#and at the time they thought anything less that three weeks early was all fine and dandy

[thementalistscandidate]

We love having absolutely life rattling realisations at 3:45am

[solbaby7]

Still Your Best

pairing: azriel x reader

inspo: Still Your Best - Giveon

warnings: jealous azriel, some teasing, sexual tension, misogyny, this some toxic relationship shit so don’t expect the right decisions to be made here

summary: You’re trying to move on after years of pining over a certain Shadowsinger but he’s not ready to let go

—

Damien was—nice.

A little predictable but he tried to be a gentlemen; held open your doors and pulled out your chairs at every dinner. He remembered the little things, was a decent cook, clean enough and worked hard.

But, you didn’t feel the spark.

Even after weeks of planned lunches and candlelit dinners accompanied with fine wines and good conversation but you couldn’t see yourself falling in love—at least not yet; not without effort. It’s partially why you’d never brought him around the Inner Circle; slightly worried about making your private life public in fears that it was moving things along too soon.

Was it normal to invite someone you didn’t love to meet your family?

There’s not enough time to really figure it out, to work out the kinds and tie lose ends before Damien is asking to meet them. “You’ve met mine.”

It was true; his family was—nice. A kind enough mother and a father who wasn’t exactly present but he was a good provider and Damien insisted that even without his dad around much, he still had a good life. You don’t think much of it until you start noticing little things; condescending responses when you tell him you’re leaving to go train with Cassian. “Enjoy it—a wife of mine will be too busy with our children to be running about playing with swords.”

You bite your tongue, deeming it too soon in the relationship to give him a piece of your mind and falling into a placating role is anything but love inducing. “You’re entitled to your opinion. It’s awfully early to be talking about that sort of thing anyway.”

Damien shrugs it off, already bored with the conversation and moving onto another. “Either way, I’d still like to meet them—your family,” Your eye twitches at the way he says it; like just because it wasn’t by blood that it wasn’t something real. “Get to know the people who’ve been stealing you away from me all week.”

You comply with a strained smile, dread beginning to settle in when you bring it up to Rhysand a few days later. You downplay it, reiterating multiple times that it wasn’t obligatory in hopes that he and the other would be busy for now and the foreseeable future.

Of course, that’s not the case.

“Don’t be silly, we’d love to meet your new boyfriend.”

He doesn’t miss the way you cringe at the title. “Oh, that’s just—that’s just wonderful. Great.”

Your mood is no less sour three days later when you’re getting ready for said gathering, form stuffed in a little black dress you’d been saving for a special occasion and you figured now was a better time than ever. Plus, the confidence boost would help sooth the nerves that wouldn’t stop swarming beneath your skin.

“That’s a little short, Angel.”

You try not to roll your eyes at the pet name—soft and sweet and completely non-threatening. As if you hadn’t spent the entirety of your life beating your knuckles into the bones of men five times your size in a ring meant for close combat.

Still, your hands slide over the fabric, staring at your figure in the mirror when you murmur, “Not too bad though right? I thought it was really pretty.”

“Very pretty, just not for other eyes.” Damien gives you a small smile, warm palms cupping at your arms when he continues as if he’s doing you a favor. “I’ll let it slide though, just this once.”

“How generous.”

It takes everything in you not to scream when he makes a point to throw a long cardigan over his arm before you leave; trying to distract you by asking for a full run down of everyone and you’re quick to skip over the fact that maybe, once upon a time, you and Azriel were more than just friends. But the steaming, boiling anger subsides when you winnow him to the Night Court, his cheeks green as he struggled to keep his breakfast down.

Damien hated winnowing and for some reason that made you love it.

Even as you soothing rub his back, acutely aware of the eyes staring into your back from the entrance doors. Damien composes himself fairly quickly, sparing you a look when you’d promised he’d get used to it after a while. “It happens,” The High Lord of the Night Court greets, a friendly hand patting at Damien’s shoulder and you don’t miss the way Azriel’s eyes roll at the gesture. “Welcome, I’m Rhysand and this is my wife Feyre.”

Damien’s eyes go wide, making a move to bow to his knees but you stop him with a gentle smile. “I apologize, I’ve never really met a High Lord before.”

“He’s just Rhys right now,” You soothe, tugging him along to introduce him to the others and they can tell it’s a little overwhelming so you’re both quickly ushered to the sitting room. “The same Rhys who always splurges on the good shit—“ You cringe at the way Damien clears his throat, a brow raised at the profanity and you have to hide the burn of embarrassment for being checked in front of your friends. “Stuff. He always gets the good stuff.”

Nesta and Mor share a glance, watching you pour up a glass just for it to be swiftly snagged by your date who offers you one too but it’s significantly smaller. “Should take it slow, Angel. It’s not ladylike to get drunk when you’re being hosted.”

Your friends watch you nod with a tight smile, quietly thanking him for looking out before taking a slow sip.

Azriel scoffs in the corner, eyes rolling as he fills a glass of his own and your jaw clenched in response, an arm looping through Damien’s to show him around. You point at art you’ve seen a million times and nod every now and then when he runs off into a winded explanation of a vase he was sure was a prized possession but you were certain Rhys had gotten it from Mor as a gift three Winter Solstice’s ago.

Cassian wanders over, striking up casual conversation that you use as a chance to slip away, re-filling your glass much higher than respectable and took it back in one go with a glance over your shoulder. “Where’d you find this guy?”

“Do you actually care or are you being a prick?”

Rhysand lets out a laugh, hands tucked in his pockets as violet eyes scan the room. “Are you even allowed to say that word?”

You scoff, a hand swatting at his arm but you can’t smack away the embarrassment that appears. “This is exactly why I didn’t want you guys to meet him.” You lower your voice, fingers toying with the stitching on your dress. “We’ve only been seeing each other a few months. I didnt have enough time to—“

“To dump him before we found out about him?”

A pause, your lips purse and your fingers twitch for something stronger than whatever had been filling the decanter. “Fuck off, Rhys. Not everyone gets to have a fairytale ending like you do.”

His voice is softer, more careful and it takes effort to even hear what he’s saying. “Why don’t you just talk to him? I know you’ve seen him brooding in the corners.”

“Azriel made himself perfectly clear,” You hiss, no longer caring who saw when you reached out to grab a whole bottle of wine and all out ripped the cork free. “He can brood in the corners for the rest of our lives for all I care.”

Your form radiates agitation, positivity seething over a nearly overflowing glass before taking hefty gulps to quench the rage but it only seems to fuel it. Taking you back to that night, the cool breeze sifting through a dragging duvet while standing on the balcony with Az. You could still feel the afterglow, body radiating perfect health and contentment when he finally faces you, a grimace on strong features. “I think I have feelings for Elain.”

It hadn’t even amounted to much, grazing fingers and hushed conversations; strolls in the garden and hours hunched over a table putting together puzzles.

But Elain didn’t want more, barely grasping at the strings of her life as she knew it and more anger burns when you’re robbed of the ability to enjoy it. Enjoy him being hurt a fraction of the amount you’d been but the feeling never comes, just breathtakingly aching love—the need to hold and cradle him close and make promises you weren’t positive you’d be able to keep. “I’m sorry,” Rhys rests a hand on your shoulder but you’re quick to shift away from it.

“Forget it, can we just hurry this night along?”

He nods stiffly, lips pursed at your agitation but it doesn’t stop him from swiftly blocking you from sight when Damien begins walking over, offering enough time for you to finish your glass and ditch the bottle. “Anyone hungry?”

Nesta grins beside her mate, a knowing look in her eye when she sits down, tugging Cassian along with her and it takes a moment too long to realize that she’d directed every seat be filled—except the one before you. Teeth grind against each other when the shadowsinger sits down, chair creaking against the hardwood as he scoots in until you felt the tips of his shoes against your own. “Absolutely ravenous.”

Azriel doesn’t play nice, smirking to himself over his mashed potatoes when those familiar shadows creep under the table, licking up your ankles and leaving goosebumps in their wake. You tense, grip slipping on your fork and Damien raises a questioning brow. “You okay?”

You refrain from looking at the dark haired man across from you and force a smile. “Perfect,” You lean in for a kiss, lips millimeters away when Damien’s head turns to the side, choking on nothing but air. It passes rather quickly but your hands curl into fists under the table, swatting away the shadows curling around your knees, teasing at your thighs.

“Damien, do tell us how you two met?”

Mor doesn’t acknowledge your grateful stare but you’re certain she’d noticed it, biding you just enough time to swiftly throw Azriel a look that could kill—but it only seems to spur him on further. “I ran into her in the city, asked her out to apologize.”

“Clumsy, are you?”

Az doesn’t even acknowledge your heels stomping at his foot, smirk growing over the rim of his wine glass and you straighten in your seat. “I try not to be but when in the presence of such beauty,” Damien grazes his knuckles against the curve of your cheek, watching as you pile food on your plate. “She didn’t have such an appetite back then though—slow down it’s not going anywhere.”

A brow raises, hands freezing in their place, serving spoon hovering in midair as his words settle but you’re quick to recover. Offering a smile, you put the spoon back, returning the dish to its place.

A beat of time passes in complete silence.

“Excuse me?”

“Az, don’t.” Maybe it’s the nickname that slips—one Azriel hadn’t heard you use in months—that forces him to clamp his mouth shut but the way golden eyes go dark is unmistakable. The others are staring; more so at your date than you but ever so gracefully you take control of the situation, resting a hand lovingly on Damien’s shoulder, sparing a quick kiss there over the cotton of his shirt. “It’s fine, he’s right, I had a big lunch.”

Rhys takes over, directing small talk and grilling Damien with subtle questions. Where he was from. His parents and their lineage and you wince slightly at the way he describes the relationship between his parents. “I suppose my family is like any other. My father always raised me to be a strong male who provides and instills order within his home and my mother handles the other duties—certainly none of this fighting mess my angel seems intent on participating in.”

Nesta perks up in her seat, fork scraping against her plate. “She’s actually really good—taught me when I first got here.”

“Be that as it may,” Damien doesn’t even seem to notice the displeased looks directed at him, the shared glances and mental conversations about just how fucking awful they thought he was. But, none of them say a thing, intrigued by your lack of irritation. In fact, you looked quite pleased with yourself, sparing the spymaster quick glances after each degrading comment—like you were getting off on his growing anger. “It’s just not how I was raised. Playing with swords isn’t where she belongs.”

“And where exactly do you feel she belongs?” It’s a loaded question and judging by the low growl that laces Azriel’s words you know Damien’s answer will dictate how the rest of the night goes. If he’d be able to leave the house in one piece.

Damien shrugs as if the response is as easy as breathing, not aware in the slightest of the cobalt glow beginning to push through the thickness of Azriel’s leathers. “In the—“

“Dessert?” You sharply interject, standing abruptly and smoothing the wrinkles in your dress. “Come help me carry it out.” You don’t even look back, ears catching on the linen cloth smacking against the table before the gentle scratch of the chair. You don’t make a sound until you’re behind the kitchens double doors, fingers raking through your hair when you spin around.

Damien is not behind you.

Azriel is, and he’s entirely too close, stalking forward with a growing snarl on god-like features. All sharp cheekbones and a dark brow, even darker hair that falls over his forehead and tickles at the nape of his neck but your eyes are caught on the shape of his mouth. The ripple of his nose and the tightly strung cord of his jaw as he cages you to the counter. “Dump him.”

The smell of his cologne nearly knocks you clean off your feet and your body’s reaction to the proximity was steadily becoming the ultimate betrayal. “What?” He watches you shake yourself from the momentary stupor, a hand smacking at his chest but Azriel doesn’t so much as flinch. “Are you crazy?”

“I will go fucking batshit if you keep throwing yourself all over that sorry excuse of a male.”

It’s the promise coating each syllable that has your thighs clenching but it’s the large hand that ghosts over your silhouette that has arousal pooling in your underwear. Azriel tracks the slow swallow you take, the roll of your throat and it’s like you’re catapulted back in time. Back when it would’ve been your right to lean forward and press your mouth to his, to let those hands roam wherever they pleased as long as he was planning on reciprocating the pleasure. Your fingers clench at your sides at the very thought and there’s no hiding your scent in the air. “You don’t get to do this. You wanted her—you chose her.” Your heart slams against your chest so hard you feared an imprint would begin to form. There’s nowhere to run; nowhere to go that wasn’t completely engulfed in everything Azriel and you have to close your eyes as to not get lost in the familiar touch of his shadows on your skin. “We are over.”

“No, we aren’t.” He noses at your cheek, free hand curling at the side of your neck to make room and you swear at yourself for allowing it. For falling victim to his fucked up game and the way he seemed to know exactly where to touch; plush lips pressing the softest of kisses along your racing pulse and he fucking groans. “It isn’t over—we’ll never be over.” So low and deep, hand tightening ever so slightly at your neck in such a claiming gesture that you have to rip yourself from the delusions beginning to set root. “You will always be mine.”

“You’re insane if you really think that’s true.” Hopefully it sounds more sure than it felt coming out and it takes every ounce of strength you have to pull away, to push through the thick cloud of darkness surrounding you until the glow of the lights were visible again. Fluffy cakes and neatly iced cookies rest on elegant trays and you can’t seem to stop yourself from grabbing one and retreating as far away as possible. “Absolutely insane.” A choked yelp escapes when you bump into the wall, mouth stuffed full of sweet dough and light icing to occupy from the grating thought of dropping to your knees and letting him shove his cock as far back as your throat could allow.

“I can be,” He nods, a smile pulling on his handsome features and your gut clenches. “I’ll be nice and ask you one time to break up with him.”

“And if I don’t?”

Shadows slink up the back of your legs, over your ass—higher and higher until they wrap ever so delicately around your neck. “Then, I’ll kill him.”

[kacievvbbbb]

Mihawk and the Red Haired Pirates

-Look I don't know what to tell you, Mihawk's epithet is literally Hawkeyes meaning he is world-renowned for his eyesight meaning that he'd probably make a good sharpshooter. And maybe Yasopp decides to test this theory with a little friendly competition. And after giving Mihawk a quick intro into how guns work, maybe Yasopp had to pull out every trick there is in the book to narrowly avoid losing to said Hawkeyes, who as it turns out is indeed very good at hitting targets and who had literally just learned how to cock a gun not even 30 minutes ago. But who's to say what actually happened, the day of November 25th at 2:35pm? Certainly not Yasopp, the record clearly shows he is undefeated.

-Once a year Ben and Mihawk go on a little trip just the two of them. They act like it's just so they can shit-talk Shanks but actually, they just go fishing somewhere in the middle of the ocean and drink horribly overpriced and fancy alcohol. Look Benn loves his crew, and would die for them but also if he doesn't get at least a week to himself once every year he'd kill them all himself. He deserves nice things and a little peace and fucking quiet and not being constantly inundated with the whims of a man child and Mihawk's the closest he's ever gonna get to a friend with taste, and he travels alone with a bunch of fancy wine. Sue the man. Mihawk who would rather nap is fine to let someone else sail his overgrown raft against the annoyingly ever-changing grandline for a week or two.

-Wouldn't it be cute if Mihawk learned a lot of his fancier cooking techniques from Roux? Like he knew how to cook to survive but watching Roux is how he learned to like properly dice vegetables and that eating fish prepared the same way three times a day is not infact a life he would like to lead. This was of course less cute to Lucky Roux who in the beginning had no clue what was happening and only felt the weight of Mihawk's otherworldly stare on the back of his neck as he handled knives. (he defiantly for at least a little bit, thought Mihawk had a knife fetish. which, he's not entirely wrong)

-To Building Snake (who I just learned is the RHP's navigator) Mihawk might as well be a modern-day miracle. In his eyes, Mihawk's sailing is proof that god exists, because only divine intervention can explain how this man ever gets anywhere never mind on time or early even. Building Snake is pretty sure he owns neither a map nor a log pose and he has never actually seen the sails of Mihawk's pretend ship unfurled or in use. Actually, he has never seen Mihawk do anything but sit menacingly on the throne in the middle of the boat, which why? If you think about it for even a second longer that 2 minutes how Mihawk "sails" anywhere breaks every law of physics and somehow even the concept of geography. Building Snake would like to dissect him and study him under a microscope but knows the boss would disapprove.

[muzzlemouths]

For prompt

“Whatever this is - it’s over”

Sun & Moon centered / 7,686 Words

You’ve been fired.

There’s no Ifs, Ands, or Buts about it, if your (former) boss’ tone is anything to go by. You got the phone call bright and early a number of days ago, only an hour before you were scheduled to go in, yet you were still expected to continue on with your shift as usual. This was just a personal heads-up; a courtesy, they said. You’ll finish out the week before they kick you to the curb for real.

You don’t tell anyone. Not on the first day, or the second, or any time soon. There are forty-eight hours remaining when you decide it may be best to keep your mouth shut all together. Would it be easier, that way? Would it hurt any less?

It’s hard to imagine your coworkers don’t suspect something. You’ve been suspiciously dispirited these last few days, jumping between pretending not to care, and outright hysteria when you believe yourself to be alone. You’ve been careful. Whatever emotion has spilled from your voice is only a drop in a turbulent ocean, its waves threatening to crash and pull and swallow you whole. You lack the energy to keep your head above water, and have just about stopped swimming all together. The thought of letting yourself drown is easier. It chips away at the guilt.

They don’t intend to let you lose the fight that easily.

“Is everything okay?” Sun asks fifteen minutes into your shift, a rearranging of the same question he’s asked every day for three days. You struggle to keep yourself from snapping at him.

“Everything’s fine,” is what you answer him with instead, “just like I told you yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that.” The blanket in your hands is folded with the ferocity of a cat wrangling prey, as though the very fibers wage a war against you. Evidently, everything is not fine. “Will you please just drop it?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he quickly raises himself from a slouch to avoid crowding you further, hands flying up in defense, “it’s just…you’ve been so quiet this week, sunshine, and you know how I worry–”

“Well don’t,” you snap – thinking better of it the moment you catch his flinch from the corner of your eye. Your hands slow against the fabric, then stop all together. You deflate with an exhausted sigh and do your best to regain some composure. “I’m just tired, Sun, that’s all,” you try to face him with a smile, “I didn’t mean to snap, I’m sorry,” it doesn’t reach your eyes, “can we just forget about it?”

He straightens further, stiffening in the joints (he gets the picture loud and clear), his hands wringing in circles, already. “Of course, star, all forgiven!” You don’t miss the choice of nickname. Moon will doubtlessly bring it upon himself to ask you the same damn question before the end of your shift if he’s already invading this conversation. “Forget about what?” Sun continues with a wink, “I can’t even remember what we were talking about!”

His effort softens your shoulders. You know he can’t help but worry, it’s in his nature, but it will only make these last two days all the more difficult. “Thanks, Sun. I promise to try and be a little less grumpy.” You produce a smile with genuine effort this time, and he appears to reciprocate by unwinding the joints that had been coiled tight.

“Any time, sunshine. Now then,” he gestures awkwardly toward the heap of blanket, “would you like some help with that? It appears to have gotten away from you. Nasty beasts, these things are. Always causing trouble!”

The fleeting relief of humor helps the waves recede, bit by bit. You let laughter wash over you instead of grief for as long as it’ll last and do your best to ignore the way an ocean of dread still laps at your ankles.

-

As expected, Moon is hot on your tail before you’re so much as halfway to the locker room when the lights go out. There’s ten minutes left to your shift and, if you’re lucky, you can spend them gathering your things and avoid him entirely. Unfortunately, your luck this week has apparently run dry.

“Leaving so soon?” He asks from the rafters, “What has you in such a hurry?”

If it wasn’t a hurry, it’d be a lingering. An insistence to stay for as long as your timecard would allow, regardless of task, dragging your feet like a child that wanted to stick around and play for only a few minutes longer. You’d look desperate – suspicious, if nothing else – and you couldn’t lead him on to what was happening.

“Got places to be, things to do,” you lie in perfect sing-song harmony, “I’ll be back tomorrow.” It’s one of the last days you can tell him so. “Don’t you have patrols to be doing?”

Your locker slams shut. Moon is behind it, his nails still dug into the cheap metal. He watches you like a shark circling its next meal. “Done for now,” he tells you. “Follow. I want to show you something.”

Do you really have a choice in the matter?

Moon leads you down a familiar path. Past the Daycare, into the theater, through the blue door. You know the route to their bedroom by the back of your hand. “Is this important?” You try not to sound impatient, but the longer you’re here, the harder it will be for you to leave. Moon doesn’t reply.

He holds the door open and ushers you inside with an expectant glare. Your hesitance to enter has his eyes narrowing further. If you didn’t know any better you would think he was angry with you, but you can’t think of what you might have done to piss him off this time.

You walk into the room if only through sheer force of will, each step a fight in and of itself, waged against the bile in your throat and the weight that’s made knots of your stomach. Just five minutes. If you can last that long, you’ll have a reasonable excuse to leave without him thinking any worse of you.

Moon continues to the wall and carefully frees a paper from its tape, pausing to stare at it between his hands if only for a moment before returning to your side. The fairy-lights you bought them are strewn along the ceiling corners and provide only enough light to see him offer you the paper. You still find yourself bringing it within an inch of your face and squinting to make out what it is he’s so intent on showing you.

“It’s from your first day here,” he supplies.

You look for answers in his voice. Motive, emotion, anything. Anything but the unreadable stare he serves you and the thin paper between your fingers. With no other options you draw your flashlight from its holster and bring it up to the page, careful to angle it away from him. Normally he would take a precautionary step back, but today, he remains where he’s at, eyes glued to you. The flashlight clicks in your hand.

“Oh,” a quick breath runs between your teeth, “this is…”

The three of you together. Sun on one side, Moon on the other, and you smack dab in the middle. Crudely drawn as all children’s art is.

You remember the day it was gifted; a regular at the daycare – black hair wrapped in a rainbow scrunchie, the first to arrive and the last to leave – she had come up to you in the moments before it was time for pick-up and tugged at your sleeve. You had spent the day stressed beyond belief and worried about your future at the company, and hardly even noticed her arrival until the art was shoved into your hand.

She disappeared up a slide before you could get a proper look at it, but her eyes found you through the bars of the playpen’s upper level only a minute after. You remember it melting away the stress in your shoulders upon finally turning it over, thinking to yourself that maybe things would work out after all.

Despair opens a hole beneath your feet as the ocean finally drags you under, starving your lungs of air and plunging you into an endless darkness. You fall, and fall, and fall—

“I know it can be…difficult,” Moon’s voice cuts through the pitch, “working here, I mean,” you force yourself to find his eyes, vibrant crimson in a sea of black, “but we can figure something out. Or– or change, maybe, if that’s the problem.”

“What?” Your body feels weightless suddenly, the plummet taking even the bile, even the knots, leaving you with nothing nothing nothing.

“You haven’t worn your daycare nametag all week,” he points out, voice straining as he nods toward the empty space on your chest, “I just – we just thought you would come to us first before transferring.”

The bottom of this great abyss arrives without warning and shatters you entirely. Here, you are no better than a whalefall, heavy bones on the ocean floor, what’s left of you will be picked apart and then swiftly abandoned.

Your knees hit the floor. Moon is quick to follow, eyes flashing wide in a fit of panic, he bends to reach your height and cups a hand over your shoulder. “Star?” The frequency in his voice-box is all wrong. It fizzles and pops with a merciful worry you’ve never been allowed to hear before. “Tell me what’s going on.”

If your world is an ocean then you are a tidal wave, crashing and breaking along the shore, and you risk taking him with you. The paper wrinkles between shaking fists as you finally collapse into a discordant sob, unable to hold it in any longer. The seafoam carries you far, far away, until his voice is nothing but wind in its current. But he’s owed an explanation, isn’t he?

“I’m not transferring to another position,” your every word is pulled like teeth and hurts twice as much, the effort it takes to continue plunging you ever deeper, buried within cold sand, “I was fired, Moon. I’m not coming back.”

His grip on your shoulder hardens until it’s almost painful, nails digging into flesh. You hardly feel it. Your mind sways on uneven waves, your body is numb, a distant part of you, heavy with grief. He releases you on realizing and hesitates only a moment before wrapping his hands around your own. His voice warbles with unspoken dread.

“Why?” He asks.

Why, indeed? You had asked the company a thousand times, and asked yourself a thousand more when their answer wasn’t enough to sate you. Maybe you weren’t working hard enough, fast enough, your efficiency lackluster in every way that counted. Maybe you spent too many hours shooting the breeze with Moon and not enough time sorting boxes of craft supplies or folding blankets. Maybe your coworkers had seen you bringing Sun flowers one too many times. Maybe the kids asked too many questions and you answered with too much, or not enough. Maybe it was a combination of these things, or none of them. Maybe it was as simple as management had made it out to be.

Budget cuts, is what they told you. Your presence was no longer a necessity. The daycare would manage fine on its own.

“I don’t know,” you end up telling him, “maybe I just wasn’t good enough.”

You don’t notice that one of his hands has untangled from yours until the back of his knuckles are brushing along your cheek. They catch a tear as it falls and let it bleed into a strand of hair, gently tucking it behind your ear. “No, no no no, Starlight, you’ve done nothing wrong,” his murmur keeps you from drifting further into the sea, a fragile tether around your waist, fraying at the seams, “I’m sure there’s a way to fix this. We can find a way.”

“I tried,” your sob rings through the empty space of their bedroom, causing him to freeze. “I did everything I could, offered what I could – I’d have worked less hours, accepted less pay, anything. It doesn’t matter!” The tether unravels fiber by fiber. “It’s too late, Moon.” This won’t last. “It’s over.”

“We can still–”

“No!” The tether snaps. You turn your cheek in the palm of his hand and flinch when it cups your jaw, angry tears pouring over his thumb. “I’m so tired of fighting this when it’s obvious that they’ve made up their minds,” you can’t look him in the eye, “Please don’t make this even harder than it already is.”

Your fingers pinch at the edges of the paper, then pull it taut, taking in the art for a final time as water-stains spill across its surface. Wordlessly, you return it to him.

He doesn’t immediately take it, staring back at you, instead, as if by some miracle you’ll change your mind. But you don’t. You get back to your feet when his hand leaves you to take it, a terrible, crackling whine spilling from his throat, the motion of your stand so abrupt his nail stings a thin line down your skin – but you don’t feel it. You don’t feel anything.

He catches you by the wrist as you turn to leave.

“Please,” he whispers, eyes wide, “let us try.”

The waves are cold and heartless. They brush against your skin with affections no less tender than this and numb you down to the marrow. “I’m sorry,” you shake him free of your wrist, “whatever this is, it’s over.”

The door shuts at your heel with a whisper, and Moon does not try to follow.

-

You don’t sleep that night. The look in his eyes haunts you like a ghost, there each time you close your eyes, you toss and turn restlessly from the time you get home to the time your alarm goes off the next morning. Though you expect the sound to be grating as always, today it is anything but. Sweet, like a lullaby. Familiar. You savor it for all of a minute before forcing your hand over the button. Tomorrow, you’ll hear it for the last time – until you can find yourself a new job somewhere else.

You go about your morning routine with a certain amount of listlessness. The waves aren’t turbulent, anymore. They’ve settled into a mindless current, the idle of driftwood on a calm ocean’s surface. You skip breakfast.

Key in the ignition, seatbelt on, you adjust your rearview mirror and swear that Sun smiles at you from the back seat. Here one minute and gone the next. You had often joked about breaking them out, one day. Showing them the world.

How foolish.

Your drive is interrupted by the lazy push of traffic, and you can’t help but feel like the universe itself is dragging its feet with you. The remnants of a nasty fender bender just ahead distracts you briefly. Your mind is drawn back to the many times Moon complained about you driving home each day in what they both considered a death machine. Bitter laughter chokes against your tongue as you pass it by, free hand rooting around for your phone so you can explain away any tardiness.

“It’s fine,” says your boss. Of course it is. You’re only here for a short while longer, anyway.

You’re half an hour past the beginning of your shift when you finally pull into the parking lot, the area busy with cars already. You do what you can to avoid your coworkers’ gaze upon entering and clock in with your head down, thoughts still distant.

There’s an abundance of noise coming from behind the daycare doors long before you reach them. Pushing forward, you find yourself between dozens of children playing in what can only be considered unmonitored chaos. Craft supplies have spilled from their drawers and made a river onto the play mats. Toys litter the walkway, forcing you to step over dolls and plastic rockets and stuffed animals alike just to get to the front desk. The chorus of unrestrained fun bleeds your eardrums.

And there stands Sun at the center of it all, covered head to toe in paint, glue, and stickers, hands shuffling with guilt behind him while your boss verbally chews him up and spits him out.

“What’s going on here?” You drop your bag behind the desk and sidestep through a sea of running toddlers before coming to a stop at your manager’s side. Sun’s head snaps upward with a vocal clickclick at the sound of your voice, the tiniest flicker of relief settling in his overheating frame.

“Finally,” answers your manager, “I don’t know what you’ve been teaching this thing, but it’s gotten far too lazy. These children need to be reigned in immediately,” he gestures wildly at the ensuing chaos, face so red and tight you think he might just pop. “Now that you’re here you better fix it. I expect everything to be taken care of when I return, or you can say goodbye to your last paycheck!”

“Oh, u-um,” you shoot a quizzical look in Sun’s direction, but his face is blank, save for the usual candid smile, “sure thing. They’ll be perfect little angels when you get back.”

Your answer is nothing more than a grunt, that of an angry and pouting dog. He nearly bodies a third grader on his way out.

Your neck cranes to shoot Sun a narrow-eyed look. “What was all that about?”

“I haven’t the slightest clue what you mean!” He chirps.

What happens next moves like clockwork. Sun turns on his heel and brings two fingers against his smile, and perfectly imitates the shrill of a whistle, seamlessly gathering the children’s attention with little more than that and a clap of his hands. “Anarchy time is over, children,” he sings, “time to clean up, up, up so we can watch our movie!”

He receives a divided wave of reactions, squeals of glee overshadowed by groans and whines of not being done with their games, just yet, but he’s quick to put a stop to that with the simple lift of a finger. “Remember, first one to clean up their area gets to help me pick out the movie,” his smile undeniably widens behind the mask, “and our snack!”

The resulting chaos is of a different variety. Children of all ages bustling around to do their part until every toy is in a pile and all the crafts have found their way back to the table. Not perfect, by any means, but it’s about as close to organization as the daycare gets until Sun has a proper crack at it himself.

He never needed your help. Not before your arrival, and certainly not now. Sure, having an extra pair of hands around makes his job exponentially easier, but he managed to uphold this business for years before you were hired. He knows just what to do.

And here, too, does he know exactly what he’s doing.

“You cheeky bastard–”

“Language!”

“–you did this on purpose.” You accusingly point a finger toward the smug expression he’s wearing, that plastered smile shining back at you like he is none-the-wiser to what you’re saying. He’s practically mocking the very implication of it. “What were you thinking!”

His head tilts thoughtfully to the side, pointer finger coming to sit atop the chin of his faceplate as if he’s actually thinking about it, “I’m not sure what you mean,” hums Sun. “Do you mean to say that I pulled every drawer from the shelves and placed every toy within reach first thing this morning? That I let the children run amuck, all willy-nilly? That I encouraged their ruckus? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Yes!”

He tuts, shaking his head in disbelief, “I would never do such a thing, sunshine! Why, I’ve just been doing my very best to keep these rowdy tots in line until you could get here. It was utter disarray without you here. Disarray, I tell you!”

You aren’t sure whether to be proud, or allow the feeling of your blood boiling to spill into something more tangible. “I know what you’re doing, Sun,” you decide on a halfhearted scold, instead, “this was risky. Too risky. What if you had been punished with more than a slap on the wrist?”

“I can hardly call that tantrum your manager pulls anything in the way of a slap,” he insists, “and besides, it all ended up just dandy. See?” He nods in the direction of a much cleaner daycare, the children already pouring over a basket of DVDs like vultures on old meat. His hand is heavy as it abruptly rests atop your head and rustles through your hair. “Everything went according to plan, petal. Stop your worrying.”

You slouch under the touch and gently bat his hand away, only half-smiling. “It’s not going to work, you know.”

“It might!”

“But—”

“I told you, didn’t I?” He turns fully now and cups your face between both of his hands, “Quit your worrying, little biter. You’re not allowed to stop trying until the rest of us have.”

You pout something fierce, a frustrated whine already building at the back of your throat. It eventually eases into the lows of a sigh. There’s no point in fighting either of them on this. Sun, especially, is aggravatingly stubborn when he’s set his mind on something. You can only imagine the plans they were making from the very second you left the night before.

Your eye catches on a subtle twitch in his fingers, and deeper still, in the depths of his chest, the whir of an overworked fan. The telltale signs of an anxiety attack that he’s barely restraining. He has every reason to be anxious, too. Sun can’t handle messes on a good day, so to go out of his way to intentionally create this much of it...

He really is trying.

“Thank you, Sun,” you take in a deep breath and hold it, relaxing with the exhale. “I’ll try and be a little less...grumpy, about all of this. Let you have a chance at trying at least.” You feel a pang of guilt at having to say it twice.

His right hand strays from your cheek while the other one stays. “Do you promise this time?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

When he taps his pointer finger against your bottom lip it tastes like sticky paint and glue. Your nose wrinkles, cheeks splitting with a smile even when all you want to do is cry. “I promise.”

-

It doesn’t work.

Why would it?

A single day of ruckus is nothing in the grand scheme of FazCo’s wallet. Sun is given a secondary scolding while being told to do better, and that’s that. There isn’t enough banking on your presence here to bother paying your checks any longer.

You still thank him for the attempt, knowing just how much he put himself through in the effort, and he remains convinced that something will change, even now. That a miracle will bring you back to them. When you say your goodbyes it’s with hope in his eyes, and acceptance in yours. You don’t notice how poorly he’s actually holding himself together.

Or the flicker of purple in his gaze as you leave the daycare behind.

-

That night is no better than the last. If this continues, you’re going to spend your final day with them sleep deprived out of your mind. It’s not like it can be helped, either way, seeing as each attempt at getting some rest violently reminds you of how little time is left. The memories you shared and the memories you had hoped to make, all taken from you in the time it will take for the sun to rise and set once more. It felt like a sick joke. Too cruel to be real.

It’s three in the morning when you receive a call.

You notice your phone vibrating on the bedside table within seconds of it, seeing as you’re still awake and watching old sit-com reruns to quell the anguish in your heart. You don’t hesitate to answer it the moment your eyes settle on the name.

It’s your manager. And he sounds – to put it lightly – like he’s going to piss himself.

“You better get your ass over here,” he half-quivers, half-snarls into the phone, “I mean it. Now.”

You’re already up and looking for your shoes when you hear a heavy thump from the receiver. “What was that?” You ask, eyes scanning the room for your other sneaker, “What’s going on?”

“I forgot something before closing and— does it matter? Just get over here!” Wood splinters around his voice. Behind that, the familiar sound of bells.

“I’ll be there as fast as I can,” you tell him, “try to find some place to hide.”

Forgetting your shoes entirely, you shove your feet into some slippers (it’ll match the rest of your attire, anyway), and throw yourself out the front door.

-

You really ought to have been pulled over sometime in the mad-dash between your house and the pizza-plex. Either the officers normally patrolling these streets are all at home sleeping like normal people, or your luck is finally turning around. Though, considering the circumstances bringing you to this point, you can’t say that’s entirely true.

The building is quiet as a ghost when you slip inside. “Moon?” Your voice spills over the empty halls and bounces back to meet you again, making the wide arching mouth of the pizzaplex feel that much more hollow. His voice does not answer you.

Instead what you hear is a rattling from the distance. The sound of metal on metal. You head for its direction in a full-body sprint while digging out the phone in your pocket, considering giving your manager another call, but ultimately thinking better of it. If he really was hiding (as he should be, if he cared whatsoever about your advice) the ring would only give his position away. You would just have to find them without it.

It doesn’t take long.

You round the corner to the sight of Moon making a meal out of your manager. Or trying to, at least. The metal bat your boss wields to ward off the normal type of intruder (already dented in to look grotesquely misshapen by now) is the one thing standing between him and a bed six feet under, and judging by the quivering in his arms, that method isn’t going to last much longer. His back presses against the floor with the entire weight of the animatronic atop him.

Moon spits and snarls, teeth gnashing behind the mask and nails carving slivers of metal from the bat that keeps his right hand from doing damage to anything else. The left hangs limply at his side with its elbow joint bent out of shape, wires exposed and barely keeping the limb pieces together. His chest is dented in a number of places, proving that the bat struck successfully more than once, though you can’t say your manager is looking any better.

Especially when you near them and get a proper look at the man who pays your checks; thick blood pools from his nose to chin, coating gritted teeth in red. The color stains his shirt and climbs the length of his body, thin gauges rivering down both arms. And his leg, fuck, the angle is all wrong–

His neck cranes to see you, face red with effort rather than anger for once. “Call your dog off!” He barks.

Ignoring the implications of that, you nod like your life depends on it (as it’s surely about to) and raise your hands into the air, daring a step closer. “Moon,” your chest feels tight, as though you aren’t getting in enough air, but you’ve done this song and dance plenty of times before. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. Can you look at me?”

And he does. Against all odds, he does. The ever briefest flicker in your direction, a long enough distraction to give your manager a chance at escape but not enough to prevent Moon from immediately trying to follow.

“Hey,” you find his wrist to stop him in place, mirroring his own gesture from only a night before. An unspoken plead.

His head does a one-eighty to look directly at you, the expression he regards you with being that of a total stranger. Icy dread sinks into the lengths of your stomach and takes your heart with it.

"Moon, it’s me," you try again, "I'm here, I’m here, can you–"

His good hand raises, fingers winding above your elbow, and for an ever fleeting moment you think that maybe he's already found his way back to you. Then your feet leave the floor.

And your body ragdolls across the tile.

It’s a fickle thing, human life. It was stupid to think you could go into this situation guns blazing and still make it out okay. But it’s here, your back against the floor and body aching like a fire ablaze, when your eyes crack open to the sight of your manager limping toward the exits – leaving you behind like table scraps – that you realize just how much trouble you’re in.

Moon’s sharpened nails tickle against the back of your throat as his fingers encircle and squeeze, the choked breath he draws forth beating against your already battered ribs.

“Moon–” His name becomes lodged in your throat, rasping violently as you feel yourself raised in one smooth motion. Your back connects with the wall with merciless force and any hopes you may have had about this, too, all being an act disappear in an instant.

Tears brim at the corner of your eyes, your vision already starting to dwindle, they burn down your cheeks for what feels like the hundredth time that week. Still, you refuse to allow this to be how it ends. You’ll get your final day here, even if it takes everything you have left. Even if you’re forced to wield the same ocean that dragged you under.

“Please,” you whisper. His grip tightens. Your lungs sting with the effort of each breath, mind racing for the right words to say when it all becomes clear to you. “We can find a way to fix this,” your eyes search for any remaining piece of him, desperate and pleading as he’d been the night before, ”just let me try.“

One finger pries away, then another.

You collapse to the floor in an instant.

Moon stares upon you with a look you can’t quite read. He recognizes the words, he has to, or you wouldn’t be swallowing mouthfuls of air right now. Even so, his level of clarity is uncertain.

“Have to–” his good hand twitches, fingers contorting indecisively, “have to keep you here,” he says. “Late. It’s late.” His hand balls into a fist, then relaxes. The black swallowing his eyes begins to recede, giving way to familiar crimson if only in small, slow increments. “Time for bed.”

The song and dance continues, even if he’s forgotten which direction to put his feet and the lyrics are all wrong. You know the meaning behind them; what he wants to say, what he’s trying to say.

So you offer him a nod, slow at first but building with your confidence. You can still save yourself. Save him. “Yeah, I was just getting ready to lie down,” you tell him around a cough, “S-See?” You point with a wary smile towards yourself, thanking your lucky stars that you decided to wear an actual pajama set to bed for once instead of just an old T-shirt and pants. There’s only one slipper remaining on your foot – the other sits abandoned a few feet from where you currently sit, having been lost in the scuffle. Moon follows your gaze to its location.

He gives you a sideways, narrow eyed expression, red slits among a field of black which blends seamlessly into the dark hallway. Then he’s lowering himself into a crouch and half stepping, half scuttling towards your slipper. It would be endearing if you weren’t skating on thin ice right now.

Bending further to pick it up, he eyes the slipper for a moment before looking over his shoulder for confirmation. You nod, once more, and bring yourself to yawn with enough dramatics that it has his eyes dilating in that special way, more red blooming and overtaking the black. The action is only half forced. You really are exhausted.

Like tiptoeing across the thinnest layer of a frozen lake, you wait until he’s finished placing the slipper back on your foot before continuing with the next part of this dance. “Will you help me get to sleep?”

He stares, eyes calculating, as if he knows it’s all a game. You’re tricking his code in the only way that still works – and it doesn’t always work – but it has to, this time, because your whole life relies on him playing along.

And he does, lending you only a nod before bending at the knees and scooping you into his arms, bridal style, at a pace that denies any chance for argument. You don’t fight him, anyway, and you don’t miss the wince that crosses his face as his wounded arm wraps weakly around your shoulders, either, barely able to keep you there.

You also don’t miss the irony of having spent two days waging war against your insomnia only to be taken in for a nap by the very person you wanted so desperately to avoid. They weren’t meant to see you in this state. Likewise, you know how much he hates you to see him like this, too. A fair trade, you suppose. Life is funny like that. And by funny, you mean unfair and horrible.

When you breach the Daycare doors, Moon makes a beeline for the nap area and sets you down on a nest of blankets and pillows. It’s normally their job to fold and sort these into their respective cubbies, so you can only imagine their displacement here was a culmination of built up stress. The image of Moon refolding each blanket again and again without gaining any proper satisfaction from it plagues your mind, reinforcing the guilt that has already begun to creep its slow fingers around your throat again.

He wordlessly settles a pillow beneath your head before thinking better of it and tossing it across the room, though the blanket he had tucked you in with remains where it’s at. Then, changing his mind again, he slumps into a heavy sit just behind you and draws you near, your back against his chest, both arms surrounding you in a hug despite the effort it takes for him to raise his left below the elbow. His faceplate bonks gently against the top of your head.

And he’s silent like this for a long, long while. Leaving you feeling tense and defenseless, never truly knowing if you’re out of the woods just yet. If he’s come back to himself. You don’t allow yourself to look back until a quiet tremor spreads through the arms holding you tight, extending to his hands, trembling fingers curling into your shirt, eventually traveling throughout his entire casing until it feels like his very exoskeleton will vibrate straight out of its frame.

A noise stirs from his voicebox that you don’t immediately recognize. Practically a whisper, at first, it strains against his mechanics like a high pitched whistle through steel pipes before the frequency snaps, becoming the whitenoise heard between television channels, loud, discordant, ugly and raw.

A sob wracks through him.

“You can’t leave,” he chokes between the static in his throat, tucking you ever closer, “please, please, please don’t leave us.”

The agony his voice wields threatens to pull you back under. You fight the sensation, forcing yourself to relax in his hold, instead, even as you suffocate within it. Tears well into your eyes for the umpteenth time and fall soundlessly from your chin to land against his arms.

After a decisive moment, you make up your mind, answering him first with a stern shake of your head. “I won’t,” you promise, “they’ll have to drag me out of here kicking and screaming.”

Your chin lifts with an effort to meet his eyes, and you smile, wry and shaky as it is, hoping that he’ll reciprocate. He doesn’t. Looking down on you with a black, oily sheen smudging his cheeks, instead. You can’t bring yourself to blame him for it. In the end there’s only so much you can do. A promise is nothing in the eyes of the organization behind their very existence.

“I’ll stay the night,” you tell him, as if it’s any comfort. He answers with nothing more than a nod, then rests his chin atop your head, again, not willing to meet your eyes any longer. More noise spills from his voicebox, weak and distant, none of it words.

It isn’t long after that he begins to sway. A subtle rock from side to side, joined a moment later by the familiar tune of his music box, its winds and clicks singing against your cheek when you turn to face his chest.

For the first time since receiving that dreadful phone call, you find yourself drifting with ease. Darkness curls around you like a warm blanket to the gentle, albeit shaky hum in Moon’s throat, soothing you ever further, despite your struggle to stay awake with him for just a little longer. Just one moment more, safe in his arms.

Sleep drags you under.

-

It’s morning when you next wake. The day is only getting started, judging by the position of the sun as it glares through the daycare windows and directly into your eyes. You are greeted by your other Sun, who smiles at the sight of your eyes fluttering open and has you wrapped up in his arms much in the same position as you had fallen asleep, though you take note of an additional blanket wrapped around you.

“Morning, sunshine,” he croaks – an odd and unfamiliar lack of excitement in his quiet tone – though you know it would be cruel to expect happiness from him after last night. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mm...actually, yes,” you admit around a yawn, “but I’m sure it was only a few hours.”

“Three, to be exact,” Sun answers you. His arms unwind, careful of the damage to his left, to finally return your freedom. He is visibly reluctant to do so. “It’s around seven, now. How do you feel?”

You shimmy out of his remaining grip and take the opportunity to stretch and turn yourself around, careful not to go very far. Sun’s fingers twitch in your absence like he’s waiting for an excuse to pull you back into his lap. “Seven already?” You dodge his second question, not wanting to get into how sore you are after being chucked like a stuffed toy across the room only hours before. Moon is doubtlessly feeling guilty about that enough as it is. “Shouldn’t you be getting the daycare ready for open?”

He reaches for you, but thinks better of it, and tucks the hand back into his lap with the other. “I just–” his voice strains, going silent. Every ray has disappeared into his faceplate to leave only the points. It isn’t until your own hand outstretches and rests against his that he rediscovers his voice. “I just wanted to spend more time with you, whatever time we had left.”

Your smile wavers, tears threatening to spill across your cheeks again right then and there. There is a telling layer of black oil coating the underside of Sun’s eyes, too, that you elect to ignore. “I understand,” you tell him, “but you’re only going to get yourself in more trouble if the daycare isn’t open on time. My boss might not let me finish out the day if that happens.”

A whine rings from his throat at the mere possibility of it, that of a guilty dog staring at the floor, tail tucked between its legs. He goes to say something, but you beat him to it.

“Come on, I’ll help you get set up, and we can talk some more in the meantime.” You look down at your clothes, remembering your impatience to get out of the house the night before, and grimace a bit. “We can just say I thought it was pajama day, or something. I’m sure the kids will love that. Let me just get some caffeine in me first and then we can–”

Cool fingers wind around your wrist while your knees are still bent, not even fully to your feet yet. His hold on you isn’t painful, but it is dangerously close to becoming so, and you don’t have to look far to see the panic in his eyes.

“I’ll come right back,” you promise, “Just a quick hop down to the coffee booth, that’s all. I’ll even bring some fizzy faz back for you.”

His whine sharpens, reverberating against his chest. “You aren’t supposed to be here in the first place, remember? What if you’re caught?”

“What are they going to do, fire me?”

It is evident by the harsh squeeze he gives your wrist that he does not, in fact, find your joke funny. Nevertheless, he begrudgingly releases his hold on you and takes to rhythmically tapping all ten fingers against his knees, instead, the metallic tink tink tink echoing even through the fabric of his pants. “Be quick, please?” He begs.

You give him a quick nod and take off in the direction of the booth with as much skip in your step as you can muster. Which, admittedly, isn’t a whole lot. Three hours is still three hours, even if it was spent in the arms of your favorite people, and you’re still feeling downright miserable on the emotional front.

The staff bot greets you by name as you shuffle up to the counter and order your usual, taking care not to burn yourself on the cheap styrofoam cup that gets handed back to you. When you turn back around, lethargic and gripping the cup too tight, you come face to face with your manager.

He looks…well, he’s looked better. There are bandages wrapped around both arms, a collection of them scattered across his face and jaw, none of it professionally administered. You imagine that even the management around here does their best to avoid a lawsuit. Though, judging by the crutches he’s using, you have to assume he went to someone with medical training after patching up what he could himself.

You expect him to be upset. Pissed off, really. Instead, he looks at you as though he’s seen a ghost. That, if nothing else, gets a laugh out of you.

“Hey, boss,” you hum, trying to act nonchalant, “having a nice morning?”

“I–” he gawks for a while longer, wetting his chapped lips. You think he looks almost normal without all the angry red and popping veins. “I wasn’t expecting you to be–”

“Alive?” You supply, cocking an eyebrow. Your smirk is definitively smothered, trying not to get too cocky with the asshole who left you to die the night before, but its presence can be heard in your tone nonetheless.

“Back at work, already,” he corrects with a strong grimace, evidently knowing he’s been seen through already. “Didn’t Moon…”

“I got him under control,” you say with an easy shrug. It isn’t the first time. Were the circumstances different, you’re sure it wouldn’t be the last, either. “Can I still keep the coffee? I know I’m not on the clock yet, but…”

“It’s–” he stills, breaking awkwardly into silence for a moment before deflating with a long and tortured sigh. “It’s fine,” he grumbles. “Doesn’t matter.”

He is silent as you pay the bot, sipping sagely on his own coffee while avoiding your eye and wearing a painfully constipated expression. It isn’t until you’re preparing to head back that he calls your name again, causing you to pause, dread rising in your gut. You force yourself to turn around.

He looks sour in the face, like the staff bot traded out his coffee’s sugar for a handful of lemons. You are preparing yourself for the scolding of a lifetime when his eyes roll, casting to the side. “You’re being demoted to minimum wage,” he tells you.

It takes a few seconds too long for the words to catch up to your brain. When at last the implications sink in, it takes real, actual effort to not smile like a kid on Christmas and jump around right there in front of him.

You settle for a wide – normal – smile, instead, but still laugh a little too loudly, nodding with enough enthusiasm to make him groan. “Sure thing,” you tell him, “I’ll be here bright and early tomorrow. O-Or whenever. Same schedule?”

“Sure,” he grunts, “just keep your dogs under control.”

And then he’s gone. Simple as that. He walks past you and into his office, shutting the door with a soundless click, and you are left in an empty hall too early in the morning, coffee going cold in your hand, a hundred thoughts racing through your mind and all of them sending you into a run back towards the daycare.

The drawing comes to mind again. Sun on one side, Moon on the other, and you in the middle – and it’s here where you can no longer stop the smile that blossoms across your face, the heat that warms your chest and sooths away every cold and aching wave that had threatened to drown you and take your heart with it.

Yeah… maybe it would all work out after all.

[tokkiwrites]

ㅤ𔓕ㅤㅤꪆৎㅤ𓈒ㅤ THREE'S A CROWD ＼ ㅤ♰ ㅤ⊹ㅤ ︵

Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x f!reader x Francisco 'Catfish' Morales

summary: your dad befriended some nice customers from his bar. fast-forward a year, they're all you can think about.

tags: pwp honestly, threesome mfm (YEEPPEEE) dbf! Santiago & Frankie, afab!reader w she/her pronouns, age gap, pet names (lots!!), Santiago has a thing with you being 'pure', virginity loss, reader is literally horny 24/7, doms! santi and frankie, sub! reader, rougher santi and softer frankie ig, dirty talk, slapping, spit (for like a sentence), choking, hair pulling, double penetration (in the same hole), head m receiving, voyeurism, unprotected p in v (wrap your dingaling!!), masturbating in the mirror for like a bit, lmk if i missed anything!!

ㅤ↪ㅤtokki's ۫ 𐑺 𝚜𝚞ׂ𝚐𝚊𝚛 ࣭ note ˑ ⌕ ࣭ ּ ➭ ive been on an oscar isaac rush for the past few weeks, and i had to. first time writing ab a threesome...sooo. im trying to write in different ways, so if it all seems jittery, apologies!!! this has like 3.6k words. its not proofread!! I TRIED MY BEST :( enjoy !!

'i need it.' was becoming like a mantra for you now. every day, needy for touches and attention, those dirty reflections that never left your mind.

of course, you've done things with boys. well, one boy, your boyfriend, and those things being your average makeout sessions and hand jobs, nothing more. you knew what sex was, of course, but the urge to experience the rougher side of it was overflowing by the day. and you know these wishes started appearing and consuming as soon as your dad befriended two customers from the bar you help him run, Santiago and Frankie. One year ago, you saw them only three times, maybe four in the span of 3 months, but their visits were more and more frequent and well, that's how their friendship started.

At first you were skeptical, unsure of their means, but you missed seeing your dad so happy and when you got to know them you realized they were good. What mattered was your dad being less lonely.

all though, that kind of changed eight months ago when, in the dead of july, you witnessed them helping your dad building a small summerhouse in your backyard. There's nothing wrong with that. Just seeing them both sweaty, with muscles bulging and hands dirty, woke something inside of you. and the fact that you broke up with your first boyfriend ever, that you were together with since 17, didn’t quite help.

So yeah, you were happy for your dad, but hated that you had to see them almost everyday and in turn sit hours on end with soaked panties on and, like a broken record, playing fantasies in your mind of these older men doing as they please with you. and you don't know why these thoughts plagued your mind just now, at the age of 21, but it was getting in the way of every aspect of your life, these wild things making you want to live inside your fantasy world and never wake up.

Today was no different: another late night at the bar. your dad went home early to catch some sleep since tomorrow he'll have to leave for three days to help his brother, your uncle, move into his new home. That's fine. What's getting you is him assigning his friends to 'keep an eye on you' like you're some sort of child. but, somehow, you can get over that. What you can't get over is how are you going to survive three whole days being just in their presence? when your dad's here, it's different. You don't need to spend that much time in their proximity, but this? you'll have to lock yourself in your room to keep those thoughts at bay.

you we're getting lost within your mind again.

what if you were to tell them about these thoughts? not that they're about them, just... you know, boy advice?

that's insane. and stupid.

would they accept should you propose you three entangled in some...activities? they'd for sure disagree- you were their friend's daughter, and whilst they didn't know you for that long it for sure didn't sound right.

what if they agree, though? one night. one night for all of your dreams to become reality..but you couldn't live after that knowing what you'd be missing forever. they'd leave after. what if you'd beg for them to stay, to have them do things even more carnal to you? if you begged maybe and gave your freedom to them.

These kinds of thoughts cloud your mind every day, and now, they are making you forget about the real world, where you were supposed to serve Santiago a glass of whiskey. as the sound of a low chuckle pulls you out of your trance, you feel liquid pooling around your palm that was settled on the bar. and when it finally awakes you, your eyes meet him again. your heart jolts, and it gets you lightheaded again.

"Oh, I'm- god, I'm so sorry Mr.Garcia...I don't know what happenedㅡ" You panic, wiping hurriedly the bar, prompting yet another laugh from the man. " 's fine, doll, don't worry. all though... your dad might turn into the reincarnation of Lucifer if he sees how much whiskey you wasted." he leans over for some tissues, wanting to help you.

"No, it's fine, I'll do it-" you smile shyly, placing your hand on top of his to stop him from moving, this in turn made him tilt his head up only a little, which awarded him with a quick glance at your barely exposed cleavage.

'untouched.' he thought to himself.

"I won't say anything if you don't." your ears pick up his voice, and for a moment, you forgot about what he was talking about. "Oh, yeah, I'm not gonna...say anything." Your lips curl into a shy smile. " Hurry and clean this up. I'm gonna take you home since you gotta close anyway."

oh, lord.

"no, that's fine. I can walk-"

"said I'll take you home." you breathe out a quiet 'oh, my god' because you're sure you've just had an orgasm from his voice only.

"See, I know you have manners ‘cause your dad taught you to listen to your elders, seems I just gotta get a little stern with you, huh?" you shake your head, not sure what to make of what he just said, but you finish up cleaning as the door opens to reveal Frankie. "why're you still here, man?" he inquired as he took off his baseball cap to arrange his perfectly curly hair better.

you can't possibly be serious.

"on duty." he laughs and points towards you. "Ah."

"You know... my dad hasn't left yet, so you're not 'on duty' as far as I know. Also, he said to keep an eye on me. Not be my bodyguards!" You try to scold them in a way. At the end of the day, you are an adult, right? "Easy miss." Frankie puts his hands up."I just arrived.”

"Yeah, well I am leaving. Alone! So please-" you move your hands as a signal for them to leave. "Excuse us for ever bothering you, miss. May we at least stay here until you close?” Santiago sarcastically banters. "I guess.." You shrug, finishing washing your hands and putting the glasses away.

you hate how much you like them. and how much you want them to ravage you. if possible, you'd let them both take you right there on the bar counter, whilst potential passers-by saw you get fucked into oblivion.

9AM, your dad left, and you can't seem to fall back asleep. the bar will be closed for these these days, so you have nothing to do except steep into your own boredom. You decide to make yourself a cup of coffee and grab a book from the shelf. With your coffee in hand, you head out to the backyard, where you settle into a comfortable chair. As you sip your coffee and immerse yourself in the pages of the book, you find solace in the gentle breeze and the sounds of nature around you, embracing the quiet moments of the morning.

this works for a while, but there's an inexplicable itch you want to scratch. with a loud whine that scares some little birds away, you head back inside to find other things to do. "Please, i can't keep on thinking about them. What is wrong with me?" You scream whisper at yourself whilst looking in the mirror places in your hallway, "like..genuinely!"

as you stare a bit more into the mirror, your hands make their way up your torso and to your breasts, nipping at your lower lip as you can't seem to ignore the warmth from between your thighs. you start imagining both of them having their way with you, forcing you to watch yourself in the mirror as they pumped your holes full of their come. touching yourself more, light fingers make their way under the shorts you were wearing, finally catching a feel of how wet you are. you moan, knees buckling as you picture both men marking you as theirs in all ways. "p-please.. Santi, Frankieㅡ"

"my, what do we have here, huh?" your eyes open wide, and still in your pants and palm still over your sensitive nipple, as two other reflections in the mirror stare back at you. "Mr.Garcia, Mr.Moralesㅡ"

"Cut the shit, doll. I think we're way past that." he motions loosely towards the indecent position you were in. "You're lucky it was us and not your dad. '' Frankie states. "I'm so sorry, I don't even..I can'tㅡ" you stutter and turn around slowly to face them, arms now falling to your sides.

"You want us?" Frankie asks you in the most serious tone you've heard him. "I- what? Huh?" you're left speechless by this sudden interrogation.

"Do you want us to fuck you, doll?" Santiago reiterated. But you stayed quiet, head low, too embarrassed to admit your true intentions. was it wrong? certainly. but was it the only thing you've dreamed about since you first saw them? Of course.

"Why don't you answer? You act like a little slut and yetㅡ" He steps closer and Frankie soon follows. "You're too shy all of a sudden? We were the ones who walked in on you, you know? touching yourself in front of the mirror like a dirty whore, huh? what would your dad say, baby?" he taunts you whilst Frankie reaches his strong grip and tilts your head up to look them in the eyes. "You didn't answer the question, sweet girl."

it takes a few seconds, but you muster up a hushed 'yes', causing them to smirk. "Show us, baby. C'mon, tell us how bad you want it." Dizzy and drunk on arousal, you succumbed to their touch, kneeling at their feet and looking up, pleading with tearful eyes in a silent entreaty to do as they please with you. but they don't budge. They wait patiently for you to show them how desperate you can get. it all overflows you, the cold floor in contact with your knees, their scent, your rugged breaths. "Please, I want- need it. I need you...so bad. need you toㅡ use me" you rub your thighs together. "Please..?"

"We'll take care of you. But...we can't promise to be too gentle. All though I don't think “gentle” is what you want." Your eyes glimmer, and your head spins. Did you hear that right? Is this really happening, or are you having the most beautiful dream, and when you wake up, you'll be sorrowful for days?

"for how long, baby, hm? since we first met? 'cause i know I've wanted to bend you over from the first moment I laid my eyes on the pretty thing you are." Frankie admits. " knew you had nothing else in this pretty head of yours, sweetheart. " Santiago laughs as he shoves your head lightly with his finger, causing you to whimper. "just wanna be fucked stupid, right? be our stupid, little fuck doll? that what you want?" and you nod in response, it takes you all of your power to not cry from how bad you want to feel them right now. "Ever done something like this?" and you shake your head no. "Shit. You poor little thing." he was right about you. He can feel his dick twitching at the thought of having you all splayed out, so innocent and untouched.

They instruct you to get undressed, clothes falling to the floor as they force you to crawl onto the couch all whilst they watch, fully clothed. getting closer to you, their calloused hands explore each part of your warm body as trails of kisses leave you hanging onto them. "gonna ruin you, baby, you know that, yeah?" of course you know. you've been yearning for this moment for almost a year.

they proceed to get naked, Santiago positioning himself in front of you and Frankie a little to your side. You couldn't believe it. This was so much more than you imagined; they were both long and girthy, with Frankie being a little more veiny than Santiagoㅡ a sight that made you drool. this will forever be imprinted into your brain.

"You look like a dumb puppy staring like that." Frankie snorts. "Haven't seen a cock before?" he's getting cockier with his remarks, as he urges you to respond. "Yes, but.. n-ot soㅡ big.." your cheeks grow red as you see Santiago's dick jump from your words. "Stroking my ego like that baby... how 'bout you stroke my cock instead, hm? can you do that for me?" anything. you were willing to do it all for them, make them so proud, they'd never want to leave.

your shaky hands wrap, barely, around both their lengths, as you stare up at them whilst standing straight so your boobs are on full display for them to eat up with their hungry eyes. you do it slow, unsure if you're doing it good, licking some of the precum from their slits from time to time, swirling your tongue around eachㅡ putting on a show. "You've done your homework, huh? Do it a little too well for a virgin."

"c'mon, hands and knees, I wanna fuck this pretty mouth of yours." Santiago pushes you back as Frankie strokes himself. "Pretty thing" he says as two digits trail down your back and help you position yourself better onto the couch. Frankie finally places himself behind you, teasingly playing with your folds, letting out a soft 'fuck' whilst feeling how wet you were. "Stretched yourself out for use before we came, right, sweet girl? You want me to help you out a little moreㅡ?"

"Noㅡ! Please.." you eagerly interrupt. "You cockslut. Haven't had an eager little thing like you since I was in college." He laughs as he positions his length in line with your hot entrance, leaving kisses down your back he slips inside slowly, and you choke out a cry, eyes brimming with tears as a sting pangs through your whole body. "sh, sh..I know, baby. I know." Whispering gently, Santiago pulls himself down and cups your face, leaning in to kiss you. As your lips finally met, time stood still, the world faded away, and all that remained was the electrifying sensation of something within you igniting. It was a moment painted with the hues of passion and longing, a symphony of emotions echoing through your soul.

He breaks the kiss and smiles down at you as the pain slowly fades away and is replaced by pure pleasure. pulling away, he levels himself and taps on your chin for you to open your mouth. Santiago hisses, tugging harder at your hair as a response to your warm tongue enveloping the tip of his dick. "shit, baby, open up for meㅡ thaat's it. good girl."

shuddering in anticipation, you part your lips further, allowing him to push deeper inside. you were already a mess- drool dripping down your chin as he fucked your mouth like there was no tomorrow, tears that stained your cheeks as he pushed your head lower; muffled moans, how you were gagging around his length, pure music for both of them to listen to.

"look so pretty, baby, mouth stuffed with cock.." you stare up at him through wet lashes as he lands a slap to your right cheek.

At your other end, Frankie was cautiously moving back and forth, not wanting to succumb to the tightness of your wet cunt that almost sent him over the edge just as he put the tip in. "so fuckin' tight, baby. fuuck-" he groans as he hits a few hard strokes, your back arching against him and fingers digging into Santiago's hips. "you hear that?" Frankie asks, moving himself deep into your hot core, letting you catch the lewd and wet noises your cunt made wrapped around him. "she's so wet for us, isn't she? poor pussy.." you pathetically whine, as Santiago pulls your head back by your hair, making you stare straight into his darkened eyes. "don't go shy on us now, doll." he laughs, delivering another sharp slap to your already heated cheek. "you wanted to be a little slut and we're gonna treat you like one, soㅡ" he tuts, thrusting into your throat before he continues, "so, really, you should thank us." Santiago pulls away, leaving your needy mouth wide open, as if asking for his shaft in a desperate plea. Frankie firmly places his rough palms onto your ass before taking his length out and you cry at the sudden lack of them inside of you. "Go ahead," he adds. "Thank us, baby, c'mon."

you lick your lips, feeling yourself dripping down onto the mattress under you, too cock drunk and embarrassed to say anything. Santiago sighs, giving your cheek a few light slaps as his other palm slides down to wrap around your throat. you gasp, the feeling so new yet it felt like something you'd been missing for so long. "i didn't take you as the ungrateful type, little angel." he coos, as Frankie reaches under to cup your breasts into his hands. "are you an ungrateful little whore?" taunting you. " 'm n-ot.." you gasp, the lack of blood flow to your brain keeping you on the edge. "you're sure acting like one." the one at the forefront proceeds, running the tip of his leaking length along your puffy lips. "and here we were..-" he stops to slap it onto your left cheek "ready to reward you, hm?" they look at each other and chuckle, as if they weren't mocking you and the pitiful mess you were. "please, I'm-" you swallow. "I'm sorry, please. Thank you so muchㅡ ! just- please, please..."

"you sweet thing." Santiago intoned "sweet filthy thing."

"I say we fuck her like she wants us to." Frankie hums from behind you, his cock rubbing against your leaking entrance. "that's what you want, right baby? want us both inside your little pussy. stretch her out and ruin you for others.." and you whimper as your cunt pulses around nothing. "Yeah, she likes that. dirty fucking girl." It was raw and intense— how their command over you ignited an unyielding desire to please them, to make them proud.

they both pull away, and in no time, your body is squished between theirs, strong arms holding you down as if you're to run away. Santiago harshly cups your face, forcing your mouth open; He gathers some spit into his mouth, for him to promptly spit it down onto your tongue. He watches proudly as you swallow it all, his thumb running across your bottom lip. Frankie was biting your shoulder, sucking at your sensitive skin as he held you by your throat in a way that's sure to leave marks.

"lift your hips for us." Santiago commands, and you do as you're told. He tangles his hand around in your hair as his other one reaches down to his cock, aligning it with your entrance. He eases in, making you throw your head back onto Frankie, his fingers now massaging your sensitive clit. "Fuckingㅡ look at her, swallowing me in one go. pretty girl.." he coos, pulling your head back by the hair to face him. From behind you, Frankie slowly lifts you up with his knees and slips inside of you, both men moaning into your ears. Tears slip past your eyes again and you cry from the pain and pleasure as your mouth falls open, unsure if you're still conscious or not. "feels good, baby? us splitting you open right here where anyone from the street can see... you like that?" Frankie was right, all it took was for a taller person to stare a bit over the fence and they'd have front row seats at this show.

" 'course she does. little whores like her get off to that. bet she'd let us fuck her in front of her dad. let him see the slut his daughter actually is." With that, Santiago finally starts to move, his eyes rolling back as Frankie pushes down onto your lower belly, as he moves his hips. "So fucking deep, shitㅡ feel that?" he laughs "want us to come this deep, huh? have you all filled up till you can't hold anything inside of you.."

"p-pleaseㅡ"

"i could fuck this tight cunt forever, god." the other in front of you grunts, the hand from your hair now focused on your nipples and one placed firmly onto your hips. Frankie had one hand on your stomach and one onto your face, two of his fingers stretching your mouth open. You let yourself be taken over by them. it felt like you were flying so high and intoxicated by them, you weren't sure how you'd recover.

"thank you, thank youㅡ" you babble incoherently.

Santiago quickened his pace, causing Frankie to do the same, and with a few more strokes, they both bury themselves deep inside your core, white warm ropes painting your velvety walls. The sudden warmth and full feeling sends you completely over the edge, having you shake and pulse around them as you reach your orgasm.

you all sit there, them deep inside of you, you between them, breathing heavily as they planted kisses upon your skin. After you came down, you realized what happened, and worse, that it was over, a thought which made you let out a pathetic sob and clench around them out of desperation. "easy girl, we still have two days left." Frankie breaks the silence. "It was you who said you wanted us to use you, no? you who wanted be our cum doll forever.." Santiago follows.

You're right where you want to be.

[hanggarae]

happy birthday jeonghan !

ONE TIME FOR THE BIRTHDAY BITCH 🗣️🔥 jeonghan x gn!reader fluff 0.9k words

“hannie just tell me what you want for your birthday” you whined on call for your boyfriend, getting louder when all he did was giggle instead of answering your question.

“baby you should be able to work out what i want on your own” jeonghan teased from the other line. “besides even if you can’t, i’d love anything you give me”

you rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see it. jeonghan’s birthday was in less than a week and you still had no clue what to get him.

you could get him a lego set or more calico critters- but he somehow managed to have every set available.

“yn..” jeonghan said quietly over the phone, “if it makes you feel any better you’ll have an extra two weeks to shop anyway, we won’t be back until the 18th”

you pouted at his words. how the hell would that make you feel better? now you didn’t know what to get your boyfriend and you remembered you can’t see him for almost three weeks.

“no! i’ll have your gift by your actual birthday”

you heard jeonghan stifle a yawn and laugh, he and the rest of the guys were probably tired. you both said your goodbyes to each other and he promised to call tomorrow morning.

while you rested your head on the pillow and looked at the ceiling, you thought about what to get him again. shopping for him really wasn’t easy.

you unlocked your phone again, fingers automatically opening the notes page you had for brainstorming potential gift ideas.

“happy birthday!” the loud cheers from his members flooded jeonghan’s ears making him smile. it had just turned midnight and they were already at it.

truth be told he didn’t care about birthdays all that much- at least not it’s customs anyway. he didn’t really mind if people didn’t call him immediately at 12am to wish him a happy birthday, he didn’t care much about a cake or gifts- he just enjoyed that it gave him an excuse to feel loved by the people surrounding him without having to be shy about it.

so when you asked him what he wanted for his birthday, it’s not like he wasn’t answering you on purpose, it’s just that he genuinely didn’t know what he wanted from you, he just wanted you.

but he’d still have to wait three weeks for that. he was still in europe and you were halfway across the world from him, living in the shared apartment in seoul.

it would’ve been early morning for you, meaning you most likely weren’t up. so he didn’t bother checking his phone for a message from you.

meanwhile, you were arguing with one of the airport staffs about your lost luggage. it had jeonghan’s gift that you bought but weren’t sure about giving him because it was a little lackluster.

“you know what just leave it. it’s fine” you sighed out exasperated, deciding to just head to the hotel jeonghan was staying at instead.

you called for a taxi but somehow none were available. you checked on the gps app and it luckily wasn’t too far of a walk from the airport.

jeonghan usually slept late, so if you hurried you’d make it before he went to bed. the rain would be a problem though. you surveyed it for a few seconds before heading back to one of the airport shops, hoping to find an umbrella.

“stupid cheap airport umbrella” you muttered as the umbrella barely kept shape against the winds, leaving you mostly soaked despite your best efforts to get it to stick to its original shape.

your phone ringing caught you by surprise and you fished it out of your pocket but the rain had made your hand to slippery causing you to drop it, luckily it didn’t break but it left a crack meaning you’d have to replace your screen protector.

you answered the call, it was mingyu.

“i’m like ten minutes away, make sure he doesn’t go to bed!” you shouted over the rain. mingyu didn’t talk for long, telling you okay before he went to bother jeonghan again.

after a few more minutes, you were completely soaked, you cringed at how your wet clothes sticking to your figure and the sound your shoes would make every time you took a step.

you checked into the hotel, your room being on the same room as the guys’ so you could trade with whoever jeonghan was currently rooming with.

you checked mingyu’s text and made sure you were standing in front of the right room before knocking.

behind the door you could hear the guys all asking jeonghan to open the door because they all couldn’t be bothered, and you smiled at the tired sigh your boyfriend let out when he got closer to the door.

you opened your arms, ready to shout ‘happy birthday’ to your boyfriend only for him to interrupt you by saying “yn? what are you doing here? and why are you- get inside quick you’re gonna catch a cold!”

he beckoned everyone else out and into their own rooms then ran to his suitcase to get you one of his shirts. “quickly dry off then get changed and throw these to the laundry” jeonghan said hastily, already helping you get your long coat off.

you smiled at him, giggling when he looked at you confused. “happy birthday hannie” you leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek.

“thank you baby” he returned your kiss with one on your lips instead, “but seriously get under those blankets unless you want to spend my entire birthday sick”

[littleredwolf]

Compromised

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Words: 1,438

Summary:  An undercover mission goes awry, but Bucky had good reason to blow his cover.

Warnings: Mentions of intended sexual assault, brief mention of using alcohol as a coping mechanism, blood. 

--

Your mind was a battlefield as you wrestled with your thoughts, contemplating your options and trying not to give into the panic that was creeping in. 

You'd been working undercover alongside Bucky for weeks, tracking an asset that could provide valuable intel on a new terrorist organisation that had recently cropped up. When your target had sent some of his cronies to request a meeting with the super soldier, you'd been less than enthused. 

"Don't worry, doll. I'll only be gone for an hour, tops."

Bucky's reassuring words rang in your ears as you paced the motel room, the ticking of the giant clock on the wall taunting you with every second that passed. He'd promised an hour, yet it had been almost three. 

Your worry gnawed at your insides. You couldn't risk compromising the mission, but you couldn't sit around waiting for the worst either. Digging out the burner phone you'd packed for an emergency, you dialled the only number you'd saved on the contact list. 

"Steve, I've lost Bucky," you blurted before he even had the chance to speak. 

There was a long pause before he replied.  

"Okay...how long has he been gone?"

"Almost three hours…"

"You didn't think to call sooner!?" 

You pinched the bridge of your nose as you felt a headache coming on. 

"I didn't know what to do! He was only supposed to meet the asset and touch base, it wasn't supposed to take this long!" 

"It's okay, Y/N, we'll find him," Steve reassured as he picked up on the increasing panic in your tone. 

"Is his tracker still on?" You asked after a moment's pause, listening intently to Steve asking FRIDAY to pull up Bucky's location history. 

"Hmm, it says here that he's been sitting in the bar across the street for the last hour…" he mused, sounding just as baffled as you felt. 

"You're seriously telling me I've been going crazy with worry and he's been sitting in a bar this whole time!? I'm actually going to kill him," you grumbled, grabbing your jacket from off your bed and slipping on your shoes.

"Try not to be too hard on him, Y/N…Bucky doesn't do things without reason," Steve offered, and you took a deep breath to steady yourself. 

"I can't promise anything, but I'll try. Thanks for your help, Steve." 

"No problem, just don't leave it so long before you get in touch next time, alright? And be careful."  

"I'm always careful, I'll let you know if we run into any trouble," you said your goodbyes and hung up, immediately removing the SIM card from the back of the phone and stomping on the device. There was no such thing as being too cautious when it came to undercover work. 

Satisfied with covering your tracks, you left your room and made your way across the street in search of Bucky. 

–

The bar was surprisingly quiet for a Friday night and it didn't take long to locate the super soldier sitting in a booth at the back. He was alone, which was a good sign, but one look at his brooding expression told you that all was not well. As you slid into the booth beside him the smell of whiskey filled your nose - Bucky drinking hard liquor was never a good sign. 

"A little early for the heavy stuff, don't you think?" You remarked, to which he simply shrugged and took a long, meaningful sip. He winced as he lowered his arm and you noticed he was favouring his left side. 

"You're hurt," you observed, leaning to get a better look and gasping at the dark patch on his shirt that he'd tried, and failed, to hide beneath his leather jacket. "You're hurt and you're bleeding! What the hell!?" 

Bucky shooed your hands away as you attempted to get a better look at his wound. "It's fine, I'm fine. It'll heal soon enough." 

"At least let me have a look, it might get infected!" You implored, to no avail. 

"Y/N, it'll be alright," he insisted, much firmer this time. You met his gaze and studied him for a moment. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that you rarely got to see, causing your worry to multiply tenfold. 

"What happened Buck?" You asked softly, placing a hand over his. 

"It doesn't matter," 

"Well it does to me…I've been going out of my mind with worry and all the while you've been here, covered in blood and drinking the one drink you turn to when things take a turn for the worse…you can't tell me it doesn't matter when clearly something has happened, so I need you to tell me." 

Bucky remained silent as he considered your words. There was no way you'd be letting this go anytime soon, so with a sigh of defeat he began to explain. 

"They took me to our target's safehouse and a load of his goons were sitting around a table playing poker…they were speaking russian but I guess they didn't realise I'm fluent because they weren't very careful about what they were saying…" 

He grimaced at the memory and you squeezed his hand for reassurance. 

"What were they saying, Buck? Was it valuable information?" 

He shook his head. 

"Then what?" 

Bucky took another swig of whiskey and studied his glass for a moment. It was clear from his set jaw and tense shoulders that he was uncomfortable with the subject matter, but you needed to know the truth. 

"They were talking about you…" 

"Why the hell were they talking about me?" 

"I'd really rather not repeat what was said," he admitted, fixing you with a pleading look. You pulled your hand away and straightened up. 

"Bucky Barnes, if they were talking about me then I have a right to know what was being said!" 

You hated how stern you sounded but you were growing frustrated in your impatience. With another grimace, he finally confessed.  

"They started arguing over a girl - going on about who would get 'first go' and who'd make her scream the loudest…" he paused, his jaw setting in a hard line. You were sure you could hear the glass cracking under the vice-like grip of his vibranium hand, and you placed your hand on his flesh arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

"I just assumed they were making vulgar jokes about their girlfriends at first…but then one of them said your name and I snapped…" 

You winced as the glass shattered in his hand, but he didn't even flinch. "They were planning on assaulting you, Y/N, as soon as I left with their boss they were gonna come here and-" 

"Shhh," you quickly soothed, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear and affectionately stroking his cheek. It was a forward gesture, but you'd been friends for long enough to know it was one that he was comfortable with. He leaned into your touch and sighed. 

"I messed up, Y/N, I've compromised the whole mission," 

"It's okay, Buck…"

"I should have just ignored them and sent you a message to get somewhere safe, but I couldn't help myself…" 

"Bucky…" 

"I should have controlled my temper - it's not the worst I've heard on a mission - but as soon as they said your name, I...I just lost it…" 

"James," the sound of his first name finally got his attention and he turned to fully face you.  

"I could never live with myself if anything happened to you on my watch, doll," he admitted, taking your hand from his cheek and holding it in both of his. "And I know I've fucked it all up, but I couldn't take that risk."

"It's okay, we'll figure something else out," you reassured with another squeeze of his hand. 

Truth be told, messing up the mission wasn't an easy pill to swallow, but when you considered what could have happened, it made the loss a little easier to accept.

"We'd better get out of here before he sends people after us," you stated, shuffling along the seat to exit the booth. You waited for Bucky to follow suit and linked your arm in his as he stood. 

"Thankyou for having my back, Buck, I appreciate it," you said, reaching up on your tiptoes and planting a tender kiss on his cheek. 

The red flush of his cheeks didn't go unnoticed. He threw his arm over your shoulder and pulled you close, kissing the top of your head as you left the bar.  

"I'll always have your back, doll," he promised with a smile. "'til the end of the line." 

[beebeetheclown]

Quiet as a Mouse

Oliver Quick x fem!reader

Summary: You attend college with Oliver Quick. He is quiet and a little strange. You think you are nothing alike, he proves you wrong when you are assigned partners for an assignment.

Notes: This is different from what I usually write so bear with me here👀 I needed to write about Oliver as soon as I watched Saltburn because I love little freaky men and I know you do too, don’t lie😏 Hope you enjoy it😊

Also, go read my bestie’s, @aurorag98’s, Saltburn fic if you haven’t already, it is perfect in every way.

Read here on ao3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🐬~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was your second year of college when you first spoke to Oliver, he was in one of your classes. You thought you were different from one another as he was quiet and you were more talkative and went out to a lot of parties. In your first year, you weren’t as extroverted, it was actually your boyfriend who helped you come out of your shell more, he was the one who dragged you out to all the parties. Now that you have been with your boyfriend for a while, you became more like him and enjoyed things that he liked, which was mostly drinking and partying.

It was hard to focus on studies when you went out a lot as it would give you less time to study and actually focus as you would sometimes go to class with a hangover. You were very smart though, so even when you felt like shit from the other night, you managed to keep your grades high.

The only reason you had spoken to Oliver was because you had been assigned as partners for a big assignment. You would much rather have the professor let you pick your own partners but he said that it was better that he picked as it would make people fool around less. He also said that it was good to get to know others.

You figured Oliver was pretty smart, he’d attend every class and you had seen him in the library often either studying or reading. You didn’t really want to be his partner though because you knew nothing about him and he didn’t know anything about you, so it would probably be awkward.

“Switch tables and sit with your partners, this will be the seating plan now as you will be working on this project until the break. You have three weeks to complete it.” The professor says.

You sigh a little, not wanting to have to sit next to him because you knew you’d most likely have to do all the talking, but you had no choice, you collect your things and go to sit next to him.

He looks up at you, and to your surprise, he’s the first one to speak, “Looks like we’re partners.”

“Looks like it.” You reply and sit next to him, “So, I guess we just decide which part we will each work on. I’ll choose mine and you’ll choose yours, we work on it individually then share them and put them together the last week before it's due.” He just looks at you with his blue eyes before looking down at the paper, you could tell something was on his mind, “Unless, there was something else you had planned.”

“Well, the professor said we work on it together, not individually.” He says quietly, continuing to keep his eyes on the instruction paper.

You grew annoyed easily when things didn’t go your way, it was something you got from your boyfriend. You didn’t let your annoyance show as you knew that you’d be with him for the next three weeks. You had to get along with him otherwise the three weeks would feel even longer.

“Yes, it’s just harder to work together as we, you know, don’t know each other well. But it’s fine, we can figure something out.” You say and then your phone buzzes, it’s a text from your boyfriend and you immediately smile and text him back. Oliver was now annoyed with you, but like you, he didn’t let it show.

“So, I think we should pick our parts now, class is almost over, I want to start early so we can finish early. That way, we’ll have free time for a while in the end.” He says as he looks at you typing on your phone.

“Alright, you can pick your parts, I’m fine with whatever.” You say, still looking at your phone. Oliver just takes a deep breath in and exhales before he looks over the papers while you stay on your phone. A few minutes pass and he has read them over,

“Okay, I think I’ll do part 1, 5, and 8. You can have the others.” Finally, you put your phone down and look at the parts he gave you, they are a lot of work but you shrug it off.

“Cool, sounds good to me.”

“Would it… be okay if you started tonight? You don’t have to do much, even a little research is fine.”

You look at him, “Yeah, I’ll start some, no problem.” You give him a fake little smile. You knew that you most likely wouldn’t start anything. Soon, class ends and you are done for the day. Your only plans now were to go to the library after dinner to help your boyfriend with his school work, he wasn’t the brightest at school, it was almost like his party life was more important to him.

Hardly anyone was in the campus library as it was later in the evening and it was closing in an hour or so. The two of you enter the library and laugh together as you hold hands and you walk with him to find a computer. When you sit down next to him, you look up only to see Oliver sitting at another table a few feet away from you.

“Shit.” You say quietly and laugh.

“What?”

“My project partner is here. I told him that I’d work on the project. I haven’t even started.” You can’t help but laugh quietly.

“Just lie to him, no big deal. Now, help me with this essay before I fall asleep.” You begin to help him and Oliver soon notices you. He can’t seem to stop studying you. He was watching you to see if you were working, seeing who you were with. He hesitated for a second but when he sees you laugh with your boyfriend and put your hands in his hair, he stands and makes his way over to you.

“Hey, sorry I don’t mean to bother you.”

You turn and look up at him, “No, don’t worry about it. Is there something you need?”

“I just come over here to tell you that I’ve got part one started, you know, for the project.”

“Oh, okay um, that’s good. You can share it next class.”

“Yeah, okay. I was just wondering if you… got any work for the project done?”

You side glance at your boyfriend before answering. Oliver captured the small glance, he was good at catching the small details of a person, the side glance told him everything he needed to know. He knew you hadn’t started, but he let you finish speaking anyway.

“Oh, yeah. I got a little research done earlier today.”

“Great, you can share it with me in the next class.” He grins a little, knowing now that if you were going to keep lying to him, you’d have to get work done now as you’d have to show it to him next class.

“Uh huh, right. It’s uh, that’s not a problem. See you next class Oliver.”

“Okay, see you.” Before he leaves, he looks over at your boyfriend for just a second with a blank expression.

Your boyfriend leans into you and speaks into your ear when Oliver is walking back to his own table, “Yikes.”

You playfully hit him in the arm and laugh. Little did the two of you know, Oliver heard the words leave your boyfriend's lips and he felt upset. He already hated your boyfriend. Oliver wanted to be better than him in some way, he didn’t know how yet, but he would find a way. He always found a way to get what he wanted.

…

The next few classes, Oliver knew that you didn’t start the work. He had listened to so many of your lies, hearing you say that you forgot your notebook, saying that your laptop with all of your work on it was dead, or that you had forgotten your USB stick. He came up with a plan, he knew how to make sure you would actually start working.

“Why don’t you just come to my dorm room tonight? That way, we can work together. I can even help you with yours.” He looks down at the table, “... Or start yours.”

You look at him, “I have started.” You lie.

This only makes him look back at you, “Look, you don’t have to lie to me anymore. I know you haven’t started. I won’t get angry with you if you come and work with me, just this one time. Please?”

You think for a moment, you really didn’t want to go to his dorm because you felt as if it would be both awkward and boring, but you did have to get work done eventually, “Okay, I’ll come over, but just this once. You can just help me get started and I’ll go from there.”

He smiles a little, “Perfect. How does six o’clock sound?”

“Six sounds fine.” He soon gives you where his dorm was located and unlike you, he was actually excited to have you over. He wanted to get closer with you, not just for the project, but in general. He found a lot of people pretty or handsome, you were one of those people.

…

You went out to dinner that night at a little pub with your boyfriend. You went out at four, you knew you had to be over at Oliver’s by six, but you didn’t see a problem if you would be a little late.

Coincidentally, he was at the pub too. Well, he was outside of the pub. He was on the street when he saw you a few feet ahead of him with your boyfriend and he watched you enter the pub. He slowly made his way closer to the building and gazed through one of the windows and he spotted you sitting at a booth. He watched you for a moment and you didn’t notice him watching. There were a few tables outside, so when one of the waiters asked if he needed something, it kicked him back into reality.

“No, sorry. Just looking.” He says, but before the waiter can walk away further, he stops her, “Hey, actually could I just get one drink?”

“Of course, would you like to sit inside or outside?”

“Inside please.”

“Of course, we should have a table open for you.” He follows the waiter inside and she begins to lead him closer to your table, you still didn’t see him as your back was to him.

He notices that the booth next to yours is empty and he knows that the waiter most likely was leading him to it, he stops in his tracks, “Hey, actually, I might just sit at the bar on one of the stools. Thanks though.” With that, he turns and walks to the bar and sits down. You were still in his vision.

While he is sitting at the bar counter, you are still at your booth just a few feet away. Your boyfriend is facing where Oliver was sitting and he sees him, “Hey, isn’t that the guy? Your nerdy project partner?”

You stop smiling before turning you back to look where your boyfriend was looking and you spot him. He is looking at you but when he catches your gaze, he quickly turns to face forward again.

“What is he doing here?” You say, half laughing and half annoyed.

“Maybe he is following you.”

“What’s the time?”

Your boyfriend checks his phone, “five thirty, why?”

“He wanted me to come over to his dorm at six so we could start this stupid project early.”

“You’re going to his place?” Your boyfriend asked with a concerned look on his face, “You didn't tell me.”

“Well, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Why can’t you just work on it at school?”

You shrug, “He seemed to really want to work on it at his place.”

“The campus isn’t far, I wonder if he walked here as well. You should ask him to walk back with us.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think we should just leave him alone. He’d probably rather walk back alone anyway.” You reply. “We should actually head back.”

He pays for your meals and begins to walk towards the door with you. In order to get to the door, you’d have to walk right past the bar where Oliver was sitting.

Your boyfriend tends to always do what he wants so when the group walks past Oliver, he stops right next to Oliver, “Hey, you’re my girlfriend's project partner, am I correct?”

You turn back to look, annoyed that he said anything even after you told him not to.

Oliver looks at him, then to you, and then to him again, “That would be correct, yes.”

Your boyfriend gives him a fake little grin, “We were just heading back to the campus. She tells me that you two are planning to work together soon. Would you like to walk back with us?”

Oliver just looks at the two of you. Before he can say anything, you speak, “You don’t have to. I can just meet you at your place. I have your dorm number.”

Your boyfriend barges in, “No, no. We insist you come with us.”

You give your boyfriend an annoyed glare but he ignores it. Oliver speaks again, “Alright, sure. I can walk back with you guys. I was planning to leave now anyway.”

“Great.” Your boyfriend replies, and soon, you along with Oliver make your way back to campus with you both.

Your boyfriend was the one who did most of the talking, once in a while, his friends would join in. They paid most of their attention to Oliver.

“So, Oliver, what brought you to the pub? We maybe thought you were following us.”

“No, I came for the same reason as you, I wanted to get out for a bit.”

“Right. But you went out alone.” Your boyfriend replies. “This must be weird to you, hey? Walking with us. I seen you around, you seem like you don’t hang out with people like us, or you are and I’m just not seeing it.”

You stay quiet and listen to what Oliver replies with,

“People like you?”

“Yeah, people like us. We party, go out, get drunk. It’s fun, you should try it sometime.” Your boyfriend continues blabbering, “I’m curious now as to why you chose my girlfriend as your partner.”

You finally speak up, “He didn’t choose, the professor did.”

“Ah, I see. That’s a shame for you isn’t it.” He jokes and nudges his arm into yours playfully.

You look at Oliver then at your boyfriend, “Stop.” You say quietly. He was beginning to get on your nerves a little. The one thing you didn’t really like about him is that he could be mean at times and he would be cocky about it.

“What? Oh, come on. It was a joke. It was a joke Oliver, clearly you aren’t offended, right?’

“No, I’m not offended.” He replies coldly.

“See? You are too soft sometimes.” He wraps his arm around you and kisses the side of your head. Oliver watched as your boyfriend held you close to him and kissed your head. There was some sort of anger building up in his stomach.

Soon, the three of you finally make it back to the campus and it is now time to break apart. You were going with Oliver to his dorm. Your boyfriend whispered “Good luck” to you before he left the two of you and it now grew silent for a moment as you both just stood still in the hallway.

“It’s just down this way.” Oliver says, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

You follow him down the hallway, the whole time your mind was only thinking about how you wanted to apologize to him for how your boyfriend was treating him. You don’t apologize right away and just walk in silence beside him. You couldn’t help but notice that Oliver smelt good, you didn’t know exactly what he smelt like, maybe a flower of some kind, but all you knew was that he smelt good.

He breaks you out of your thoughts as he makes it to the door of his dorm and unlocks it, “You don’t have your things. It’s okay, I probably have paper or something you can borrow.” He could have just sent you to go get your things as it would probably only take you about ten minutes, but he was growing impatient and he even thought that maybe if you left him, you’d run away.

When you enter his room, you look around and see that everything is clean and so organized, crazy organized. Everything everywhere was straightened out, the things on his desk, the pillows on his bed, everything. The one thing you did realize was that he had no pictures or posters on his walls, they were bare.

“No posters?” You ask.

“No, I like how it is.”

Something was on his mind, and you could tell, “Hey, I’m sorry about him. My boyfriend can sometimes say a lot of stupid things. He is kind of cocky.”

“Cocky?”

“Yes.”

He looks at you deeply and says your name, “Your boyfriend’s a dick.”

Your eyes widen, “I’m sorry?”

“He’s a dick. I don’t know why you are with him. You deserve someone better.” He walks over to his desk and gets papers out, “We should start now.”

“Hold on, you just called my-”

“Yes, I did. Can we work now, please.”

“So that’s why you are alone often. You are quiet but when you speak to someone, you insult them.”

“I am not insulting you, I am insulting your idiot boy.”

“Okay, and? That’s basically the same thing.”

“Look, I didn’t mean to hurt your little feelings, all I’m saying is,” he pauses for a minute, “What’s happened to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Last year, you were like me. Quiet, smart, focused on work. You were these things but not a total ‘nerd’. We were similar and now ever since you met this guy, you’ve acted differently. I liked you better before.”

Hearing him say all of this just makes you still in silence for a moment. You barely even remembered him from last year and he seemed to remember you so well, as if the two of you had spoken before.

“How did you know that?”

He shrugs, “I’ve seen you around. Is it fun hanging out with them? Do you like it better than how it was before?”

You think for a moment, you honestly had never thought about it before, “I don’t know.” You reply softly, “I can’t remember what I liked about being quiet rather than outgoing. Do you like it quiet? Do you like it this way?”

“I do. It’s peaceful really. But I hate being looked down on by people like your boyfriend. I sometimes want to be the way he is, not give a shit about anything and have fun.”

“Then how come you don’t go out more? You can come out with my group of friends if you’d like.” You saw Oliver in yourself now, he was alone but was too afraid to go out because everyone else felt different than him. He felt alienated.

“They wouldn’t like me. I am not like you anymore. You have changed into a copy of everyone else. At least I stay the same.”

Just as you thought you were finally getting along with him, he gets on your nerves again and you get on his. You would just be annoyed with him but his annoyance felt different, he was annoyed with you but felt a weird connection to you. He wanted you to like him but he also wanted to show you that he could be strong and that he didn’t just pretend to be strong.

“I was trying to be nice. You make it really difficult for me to like you more, you know that?”

“I don’t need you to like me, I just want you to respect me. Look at me as if I am the same as you.”

“Well, we are not the same. Maybe we were a year ago, but not anymore.”

“We are the same. Deep down, you are just like me.” He walks closer to you now, “I can see right through you.”

“You’re crazy. I came here to work on this stupid assignment and all you’re doing is insulting me and speaking nonsense.”

He chuckles softly, “You’re boyfriend was right, you are too soft, aren’t you? I am not insulting you, I am just telling you the truth. Truths aren’t always what we want to hear, most people hate the truth, but you can’t run away from it. You can’t run away from reality no matter how hard you try. Trust me.”

Your faces were inches apart now and it seems as if he has trapped you in place somehow because you feel as if you can’t move back or push him away, you just stand still and let him inch closer.

“You need help Oliver. You need fucking help. You are even crazier than I thought.”

His smile only grows, “I think you’ve got the wrong word. I am real, raw, not crazy. God, there are not enough real people here. That’s why I liked seeing you last year, you were real like me, I could feel it.” He brings his hand and tucks hair behind your ears and you let him, “You don’t have to be scared.”

“I’m not scared.” You whisper back.

“Then why’d you change yourself? You changed yourself to be better for him, changed to be how society makes people like your boyfriend cool and people like us strange. You didn’t want to be strange, so you changed.”

All of his words were true, you couldn’t believe that you only started talking to him and he was revealing truths that were hidden deeply in your mind. You thought no one else knew about your truth, but he did.

You begin to cry very quietly, a couple of tears run down your cheeks. “You are pretty when you cry, has anyone ever told you that?” He asks. You shake your head and continue to cry softly, “So quiet, so small, like a little mouse. Your eyes look all glassy when you cry, it brings out the beautiful colour of them more.”

He leans in closer and brings his tongue to your cheek, licking the tear off your skin with the tip of his tongue. You could feel his warm breath on your skin. He moves his lips to the left side of your face and does the same, bringing his tongue to lick away your tears.

He holds the sides of your face in between his hands and looks at you in the eyes, “You are like me, and I am like you. Just give it up, give in and admit that it’s the truth.”

“Okay.” You whisper.

“Let me hear you say it. I need you to say it. Tell me what I just told you.”

It takes you a couple of seconds before you obey and repeat his words, “You are like me and I am like you.”

“Good girl. Say it again.” His voice was soft but demanding. You’ve never been in a situation like this. You were under his control, his power. You were too weak to move, you couldn’t do anything else but listen to him and do as he told you. You didn’t know how he did it. Oliver was quiet, but had so much control, he had you at the palm of his hands, right where he wanted you.

“You are like me and I am like you.”

“Again.”

You keep on repeating the same sentence over and over again. You only stop when he runs his tongue along your lower lip very slowly before he kisses you. He still has his hands at the sides of your head as he continues to kiss you. You kiss him back and part your lips, allowing him to slip his tongue inside of your mouth to meet your tongue.

Your mind was running with so many thoughts, it was so loud and everything didn’t seem like it was real, you felt as if you were in some crazy dream, a crazy nightmare. He begins to push you gently backwards so you make it to his bed. When the back of your legs hit the edge of his bed, he pushes you so you sit on his bed.

“Who are you Oliver?” You ask.

He leans down so his lips are close to yours again, “Do you want to find out?”

You shake your head and continue to look into his eyes, “Why are you doing this? How- why can’t I stop you?”

“You can’t stop me because you want me. You want me just like I knew you would.” He begins to drag his fingers up your thigh, “Are you going to take off your clothes, or are you just going to sit there and stare?”

You finally snap back into reality, “No, Oliver. You are not doing this. I can’t. I have to switch partners, I have to tell the professor-”

He stops your words by putting his hand over your mouth, “Can’t you just give in for just a moment? You are so difficult. Are you this difficult with him? Does he even know how to fuck you?” He doesn’t remove his hand yet and he just looks you in the eyes. His eyes were the colour of water, but they were burning through you like fire, “Now, when I remove my hand, you are going to smarten up. You are going to be quiet and give in to what you want. No more lies, all we want here is truth, okay?”

You can’t help but nod your head and he removes his hand and the room falls silent for a minute. You were wet between your thighs and that was no lie. You shouldn’t have been, you liked your boyfriend. You felt like you couldn’t say you loved him yet but that didn’t mean that cheating on him was not a big deal. It was a huge deal, if he found out about it. Oliver was quiet, the secret would be in good hands.

“I don’t want to take my top off.” You whisper, “I will feel guilty.”

“Then take off your pants.” He brings the back of his hand to stroke the side of your face, “He won’t find out. If you stay quiet, it will be easy; he won’t catch on. All you have to do is be quiet about it. Be quiet like me. You get away with a lot more things when you keep to yourself.”

You look at him the whole time you begin to remove both your pants and panties, you are soaking wet, you shouldn’t be but you are. He is already hard in his pants, he was dreaming about having you like this ever since he first saw you.

“Now it’s my turn. I am going to remove everything and you are going to watch.” He says and pulls his shirt over his head. You couldn’t believe what you were doing, sitting half nude on Oliver’s bed and watching him undress himself. First of all, you had your boyfriend, and second, you never thought Oliver would be like this. You saw him like a deer, quiet with pretty eyes. But he wasn’t a deer when he was alone with you, if anything, he was the opposite. He still looked like a little deer, but he didn’t act like one.

Soon, he is standing in front of you naked, you don’t even look at his body and just keep your eyes on his, feeling as if it would make you feel less guilty of cheating on your boyfriend if you didn’t look at his body.

“What now?” You ask innocently.”

“What now? What do you mean ‘what now’? Has your boyfriend never fucked you good enough? I bet he just gets right into it doesn’t he, bet he doesn’t even excite you first.” He chuckles a little, “That dumb boy. Spread your legs, quit being so scared.”

You do as you’re told and just sit there, waiting for what to be told to do next. He kneels down in front of you now and admires your pussy, “Does he ever eat you out before fucking you?”

“Sometimes.” You reply, “I don’t want to talk about him, Oliver, not when I’m like this.”

“Like what?”

“Having you in front of me while my legs are spread. It’s so wrong.”

“Oh, but it’s so right. You want this, look at how wet you are. Stop pretending to be someone you’re not just to get him to like you. You’ll regret it, trust me.” Right after he says this, he latches his lips onto you and tastes you, gliding his tongue along your walls. Your hand falls down to his hair and you brush your fingers through it. A loud noise leaves your lips and it makes him hum into you in satisfaction. He ate your pussy as if he was starving.

He doesn’t let you cum, he removes his mouth from you and brings his lips an inch away from yours, “Kiss me. Taste yourself on me to know how good you taste.” You thought he was crazy and doing such a thing was bizarre, but you bring your lips to him and kiss him deeply, tasting yourself on him, “Now, I’m going to fuck you.” He says bluntly when he pulls away, “I was going to fuck you with my fingers like I’ve wanted, but you’ve got me so hard I can’t wait any longer. Maybe next time.”

“There will be no next-” You can’t finish what you were going to say as he pushes you down so you are now on your back and he stands. He pulls you by your legs to get closer to you,

“You’re going to see just how much pleasure you’ve never received, how much time you’ve wasted by fucking pretty boy when you could have had me this whole time.” He grinds his hips forward and fits himself inside you and you both let out sounds. He grins as he fucks you, thinking that he has won, he finally has you like this and made you pick him over your boyfriend.

He watches every part of you as he fucks you, looking at your stomach, your breasts, your face and how you reacted to the pleasure he was giving you. Your boyfriend wasn’t that bad at sex, but something about how Oliver was working you made it feel like your boyfriend was completely clueless on how to fuck. Oliver fucked you with such need, with a mixtare of love and hate.

“Oliver, wait.” you whimper out, “Let me ride you.”

He paused inside of you for a moment, “You want to ride me? You’re more of a slut than I thought.” He pulls out of you then the two of you immediately switch positions. He leans against the headboard of the bed and you climb on top of him and lower yourself down. You couldn’t get yourself to look at him, otherwise guilt came over you, so you just put your face in the nape of his neck as you kept moving your hips up and down to ride his dick.

Hearing your sounds in his ear along with having your hot breath against his skin already made him close. He grabs your hips tightly, digging his nails into your soft skin. “Fuck, I need to cum inside you.” He groans out.

“No, no, you can’t Oliver.” You don’t stop your movements, you wanted to let yourself come over the edge too, it felt too good to stop

“Why not? Let me cum inside you.”

“No.” You reply. He growls and then suddenly flips you over so you are underneath him again and he begins to fuck you harsher. The change of pace makes you even closer. He brings his fingers down to play with your clit and that’s all that it takes for you, you moan out loudly and cum around him. He finishes right after you. He wanted to spill inside of you so badly but he decides not to, he pulls out and spills onto your stomach.

In the end, you never ended up working on your project. You only let him fuck you and then you left and went back to your own dorm room. Your boyfriend called you later in the night and you have no choice but to answer it and act as if nothing happened. You smiled and laughed at his stupid jokes through the phone. You pretended and lied to yourself that nothing between you and Oliver ever happened. You knew that it would never happen again, hoped it would never happen again. But you wanted him so badly.

You ended up switching partners, telling your professor that you and Oliver were not getting along and having a hard time working together. The professor thought about it for a while but then gave in and switched you to work with someone else. Oliver was angry but he didn’t tell anyone the real reason why you wanted to switch so bad. He wouldn’t be that cruel to you, he still wanted you to like him. He liked that you and him had a little secret between the two of you.

He grew more than angry as more days passed of you ignoring him and his glances, he practically grew obsessive. He’d follow you around the hallways when your boyfriend wasn’t with you and you were alone, asking you why you didn’t want to sleep with him anymore and why you didn’t even want to speak to him anymore. You got angry at him every time he mentioned the two of you sleeping together and told him to keep his voice down even though he was already talking quietly.

Oliver was always sneaking around now, watching you. One night, your boyfriend's dorm room window was open, facing the campus fields, and Oliver stood there watching through the window. Watching how your boyfriend would kiss you and how your body and your face would react to his touch and his kisses. He felt himself getting hard the more he watched but soon, the two of you were out of his view as you moved away from the window. Oliver was only mad now.

He wanted to find a way to have you again; he would find a way, he always did.

[makethatelevenrings]

Breakfast for Three // J. Todd x f!reader

Requested? Yes!

Warnings: reader has a kid, swearing, talks of poverty (if u haven’t been able to figure out, I am a leftist and I am tucking my lil handkerchief into my collar and preparing to eat billionaires)

Summary: Being a single parent is hard. Being a single parent in Gotham feels impossible sometimes. Two people change things for the better. 

Listen, raising a child on your own was a test on its own. But being a single parent in Gotham? You had to be absolutely out of your mind.

But you loved your kid. You wouldn’t go back and change your decision. Every morning, you woke up to the giggles and shrieks of your four year old climbing all over you. Lucy was always up before your alarm and while you needed every minute of sleep, you would miss these moments whenever she became too cool to hang out with her mother. So you just bundled her wriggling body up into your arms and peppered her head with kisses as she laughed and wrapped her little octopus limbs around you.

Breakfast had moved from a coffee and a granola bar as you rushed out the door to work to Bluey pancakes for Lucy and even more coffee for you before you rushed out the door to get her to preschool and you to work. Every day felt like it was flying by too quickly.

Her birthday was quickly approaching and that’s how you found yourself out on the fire escape of your apartment with the baby monitor clutched between your hands and sobs escaping you despite your best efforts to stifle your cries.

You couldn’t afford any of the popular toys or games that kids were obsessed with. Hell, you could barely afford rent this month. Living in Gotham wasn’t as bad as other places in terms of rent but raising a kid was expensive and you were struggling to make ends meet thanks to work being slow. God, she was going to be so disappointed. Maybe you could start eating only one meal a day? That would save some money on groceries…

“Are you okay?”

The voice came from the shadows and the subsequent heart attack you received practically launched you into the air. The person cursed and then stepped out of the shadows. Okay, less scary but still pretty fucking terrifying. Red Hood stared down at you, or at least, you thought he was looking at you. The helmet made it difficult to figure out what direction he was facing.

“I said, are you okay?” he repeated in a gruff, no-nonsense voice. You nodded quickly and swiped away your tears with the back of your hand.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Don’t you have skulls to bash in or something?”

A huff of laughter escaped the vigilante’s helmet and you cocked your head to the side. He could laugh? He was capable of humor? Surprises were all around tonight.

“Already did that. And then I heard someone sounding like they just watched Marley and Me three times in a row and figured I should come check.” He eased himself into a crouch next to you and you admired how large and imposing he was yet he didn’t seem terrifying when he was next to you. You weren’t his target so there was no reason to fear him.

“Gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he asked.

“It’s stupid,” you muttered. You turned your attention back to the baby monitor to see Lucy fast asleep in your bed. The one bedroom apartment you rented didn’t have space for another bed so the two of you shared one. Luckily, she was a deep sleeper so she never stirred when you crawled in a few hours after her bedtime and got up early in the morning to get ready for the day.

“Nothing that makes you cry is stupid,” Red Hood retorted. “Hit me with it.”

“My kid’s birthday is coming up and I don’t have the funds to pay for anything. I can barely keep our heating on. She’s going to hate her birthday and I’ll have ruined it forever. I’m already working sixty hours a week, but I can’t ask Mrs. Hayes to watch her longer. Fuck.” You scrubbed a hand down your face and bemoaned your rotten fucking luck. Fuck your shitbag ex. Fuck the system that prevented single parents from succeeding. Fuck it all.

Rustling beside you made you look up to find Red Hood rummaging through his pockets. He let out a triumphant hum and then outstretched his hand. A stack of bills rested in his gloved palm and your eyes widened at the offering.

“Absolutely not,” you blurted out. “I’m not taking blood money from you. Who knows where that’s come from? And what if you show up in five years demanding the money back with some huge fucking interest rate?”

He chuffed out another laugh. “Christ, your mind is an interesting place. It’s legit, I promise. And it’s not a loan. It’s a gift. Take it. I’ve got enough cash.”

You watched him warily as you reached out and grasped the money. Your lips moved as you counted out the values silently and inhaled sharply once you got to the end. Three thousand dollars. That would pay rent for two months, leaving your paycheck to cushion you.

“Holy shit. Thank you. Thank you so much,” you gasped. But when you looked up, there was no sight of Red Hood. He had simply disappeared into the shadows once again. Only the rough paper of cash in your hands made you realize that it wasn’t a dream.

You spent the rest of the night going over your finances and figuring out where you could use the cash and how much you could spend on Lucy. With enough to bolster you for a bit, you decided to take her by a bakery on her way to pre-school. With her dinosaur backpack firmly settled on her back, Lucy bounded towards the bakery with you hot on her heels. Where the hell did she get all this energy?

“Woah,” a man exclaimed as Lucy tripped on a raised edge of the sidewalk. He caught her before she went sprawling onto the pavement, saving you from a torrent of tears and skinned knees.

“Gotta be careful there, kiddo,” he said as he righted her. You caught up to her finally and kneeled down to check her for injuries. Unscathed, thanks to the stranger. You raised your head to meet his eyes and thank him and found yourself captured by searing teal eyes.

“Thank you,” you blurted out. “I should really get her one of those backpack leashes.”

His full lips curled up into a grin and your heart stuttered at the sight of it. Small scars littered his tan skin, but it only added to the handsome rogue look he had going for him.

“I get it. The cinnamon rolls at this place are fu-” His eyes darted towards the squirming child in your hands. “Freaking amazing. I practically run here every morning to get one.”

Lucy gasped. “You like cinnamon rolls?”

The man shrugged. “Well, yeah, who doesn’t?”

“Sad people,” she replied wisely. You burst into laughter at the solemnity of her words and leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“I love you, kid,” you announced.

“Love you too, mommy. Can we go now?”

You stood up to your full height and the man did the same, but he was much taller than you. He offered his hand and you shook it.

“I’m Jason. How about I buy you two breakfast?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do it. If anything, I owe you.”

His smile grew and you marveled at the slight dimple in his chin. “Yeah, but this way I can be a gentleman before I ask you out.”

There was no way this exceedingly handsome, Adonis-like man was asking you on a date. No fucking way. You had toothpaste on your shirt and a four year old currently clinging to your leg. No man had even looked at you since your ex knocked you up and left.

But he was kind and genuine and there was some kind of soft emotion in his eyes that made you want to ask him how the world had hurt him. And Lucy seemed to like him from just their first meeting.

“Okay. Breakfast sounds nice.”

If only you knew how a simple breakfast would change your life forever.

tag list: @mcrmarvelloki​ @gone-batty-fics​ @someoneimsure​ @perpetual-fangirl900​ @visagebrise​ @cursedandromedablack​ @alexxavicry​ @the-wayward-daughter​ @raging-trash-of-mind​ @kat-nee​ @khaylin27​ @igotanidea​ @princessbl0ss0m​

[wiltedreamofbaldursgate]

A Gift That Keeps on Giving

characters: Astarion x race/spellcaster fem!Tav/reader word count: +1.6k Rating: T read on ao3 FF Masterlist This hasn't been beta-read.

Astarion is an absolute menace when it comes to celebrations, especially Winter Solstice. Merry Christmas! ♡

Astarion had been driving you to the brink of insanity, which wasn’t anything new to you; over time, you’d gotten used to his antics. 

The weeks leading up to the Winter Solstice, however, had been something entirely different. 

The pale elf had become unbearable, positively so. 

One would think the Winter Solstice celebration was, in its essence, a simple affair. You decorated your house with evergreen and holly, maybe even some ivy, if you felt like it. Lit some candles to expel the long night. Danced around. Exchanged presents with your loved ones. It was all rather straightforward, really.

But not with Astarion, no; things were seldom simple with him, so you shouldn’t have been that surprised. 

He’d been planning for the celebration for weeks on end and—being a gods-awful planner—had turned that nice, simple affair into a proper ordeal.

Nothing had met his unprecedented standards.

The evergreens hadn’t been festive enough, so he’d crafted straw stars as additional decorations—only to deem them hideous after you’d helped make three dozen of them.  

Candles had been needed, a whole lot—nay! a sea—of them. Astarion had wanted the entire house to be filled with soft candlelight, only to get annoyed when he’d finally realised how much of a hassle it would be to actually light two thousand candles at roughly the same time.

Astarion thought you were a terrible dancer and teaching you some proper dance steps had already ended in tears once—neither of you wanted to speak of it ever again since you had more or less promised each other everlasting love and respect and little to no bloodshed. Dancing, let alone another dancing lesson, was off the table—indefinitely.

The only thing you’d been rather optimistic about was the celebration’s gift-giving aspect. Astarion had a very keen eye for things you might enjoy; pretty little trinkets, an excellent bottle of wine, a lovely new dress. 

The only issue Astarion had with gift-giving, however, was the gift-getting. 

He’d grossly misjudged the amount of time left until the Winter Solstice, only to find—with less than a week to go—that no potential gift had been good enough to present to you. 

Astarion had let you know in great detail that every trinket he’d come across had been tacky, and that every wine he’d sampled had tasted like piss. He was also strongly convinced that every seamstress in town was blind in both eyes. 

It had been a perfect predicament and with the days being reduced to only a couple of hours of scant sunlight, Astarion had been out and about most of the time—which, in all honesty, was the best gift he could have possibly given to you until the celebration was over.

And then the longed-for day had finally come. 

In true midwinter fashion, the weak sun rays barely penetrated the grey cover of clouds, and so you and Astarion found yourself tramping through knee-high snow in the early afternoon. 

You pressed your lips into a thin line as Astarion cursed again, kicking against a wayward pile of snow blocking his way. The snow scattered prettily before settling on Astarion’s already-drenched hood. He hissed but refrained from using any more profanities—for the time being, at least.

You wouldn’t be exaggerating when you said the general mood was a little sour on this most festive of days. 

For all your Winter Solstice planning, the fact that you two were travellers with no permanent residence to hold an actual celebration in, had somehow eluded you both. It wasn’t anybody’s fault, really. Sometimes, one could miss some crucial details here and there. Things like that happened all the time. No big deal at all. It was fine! 

You gave Astarion the side eye as you adjusted the straps of your pack which was stuffed with an ungodly amount of candles and greenery.

By the time you eventually reached an inn, you were cold and miserable. The inn’s soft candlelight dancing behind stained glass windows had guided you through the gathering darkness and you let out a deep sigh of relief when the warmth of its entry hall caressed your frozen skin. 

The inn was packed to the brim, the elderly proprietress informed you the moment you walked up to the reception desk—off you go again; there was no need wasting her time.

You took a deep breath before glancing over your shoulder to where Astarion was waiting outside, shivering and unable to cross the inn’s threshold. In your time together with him, you had learned that a dagger usually worked wonders, and it did not disappoint now, either.  

The elderly lady stared at the shiny blade you’d rammed into the polished wood of her desk and recalled that the attic was quite available to lodge in after all. 

You’d thought so, too, and gave her a courteous nod before taking the key from her.

“It’s cold outside. Would you be so kind and invite my partner in, too?” 

The proprietress assured you that it was no problem at all and invited Astarion in oh so enthusiastically.

“All settled,” you said as you held the door open for Astarion a moment later. They were the first words you’d spoken to him in hours but you fell back into thick silence when you stalked up the stairs to your rooms after him. 

The attic was a cold, damp and dark place. You’d made do in worse accommodations, though—and the hot bath the proprietress had promised you would make up for it.

To your surprise, Astarion bid you to warm up first. 

Although you all but wanted to fall asleep in the blissfully steaming hot water, you washed up quickly. You wouldn’t risk pushing your luck asking for another bath to be drawn but you didn’t want Astarion to soak in cold water, either. 

Red-faced and squeaky clean you hurried from the washroom back to the attic. You’d barely made it through the door that Astarion squeezed past you down the attic stairs, leaving you standing alone in the gloomy room. 

You knew he was only sulking because nothing had gone as he’d planned once again, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t bothered by the tension between you. 

It was the night of the Winter Solstice, after all. 

Sighing, you sat down on the old bed, suddenly wishing for a decadently decorated, candle-lit parlour and maybe even some music to dance to. Almost anything would be nicer than this draughty attic room and a frustrated vampire spawn. 

Grimacing, you were just about to comb your fingers through your wet hair when your sight fell on a little box resting next to you on the bed. You hadn’t noticed it before but a soft smile was already tugging at your lips when you picked it up. 

The box held a dainty pendant necklace with the palest ruby you’d ever seen. It was a subtle little thing—not at all Astarion’s style—but absolutely stunning in your eyes. 

You wasted no time putting the necklace on before you rummaged through your pack, looking for some candles. There were enough to light up the damn house, but one or two dozen would do nicely for your purposes. 

Over the past few weeks, you’d come up with a spell that lit every candle within a room with nothing but the snap of your finger, so it took no time at all to bathe the attic in soft candlelight. 

The evergreens you’d carried around looked a little worse for wear but you covered the narrow windowsill with them anyway before hanging some holly to the shabby bed posts as an afterthought. 

The room had turned cosy enough by the time you could hear footsteps behind the door. 

Not knowing how you’d received his gift, Astarion entered the room sheepishly enough. He raised an eyebrow at the sight in front of him, but his initial surprise was swiftly masked by a crooked smile. 

“You’ve been busy,” he observed, looking around before his gaze settled on you. 

He eyed the beautifully embroidered silk robe you’d gotten him as a present for the Winter Solstice. It was a little long for you, but that didn’t really matter—you’d only donned the robe for the purpose of presentation. 

“Do you like it?” You asked, stepping closer to him. 

Astarion reached for your hand, drawing his thumb over the back of it as he took a better look at the embroidery across your chest—although his eyes stuck to the collarbone that you’d left generously exposed.  

“You know, darling” he mused, cocking his head as he cupped your cheek, “Your taste might be a little questionable at times, but…” 

Chuckling, you pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand. Leave it to Astarion to insult you to your face and have you thank him for it. 

Maybe he did have a point, though; the colour of the robe did clash a little with his crimson eyes…

“But?” You sighed as his hand wandered from your cheek down your throat, brushing against your new necklace before it vanished into your deep, silken cleavage

“But…” Astarion started again, visibly pleased by your reaction to his touch; his gift around your neck.

You didn’t break eye contact when he tugged at the belt of your robe, nor when he circled your waist with his lean arm, pulling you flush against him.

“You do have an exceptional eye for presentation, my love.”

You tilted your head back to welcome his lips on yours.

Astarion’s kiss was deep and sweet at once—intoxicating you like no wine in all the realms ever could. 

The silk robe slid down your shoulders with only a little help from Astarion’s nimble fingers; the luxurious fabric pooled around your feet like water. 

You cupped the back of Astarion’s neck with your hand, deepening the kiss as he slowly guided you backwards until your legs brushed against the bed frame.

It would be a wondrously long night and it seemed like you would even get to dance together, after all.

[httpknjoon]

(re)starting over again | kth; 10.5

plot | Your four-year relationship with Taehyung was going well and strong. Until he was involved in a car accident, resulting to him losing some memories. By some, it means everything that happened five years ago. Things he remember? His friends, his bakeshop, and his ex girlfriend from the past. With that, you tried to keep up, restarting over again.

words | 3.5k

genres | fluff, angst, amnesia au

pairing | taehyung x reader

warning/s | -

note | more angst haha I swear rainbows and sunshine are coming soon. icymi, I made a spotify playlist for this series! it gets updated every time I write for mc and taehyung. expect it to be angsty haha! anyways, enjoy reading this one. let me know y'all's thoughts.

main masterlist | series masterlist

“Are you sure about this?”

Gail, your supervisor, looked at you while holding the paper you gave her just minutes ago. Your heart beats heavier and louder as you stood in front of her. Gail was never a terrifying supervisor to you. She was always considerate. But this thing that you’re doing right now is still nail-biting. You came to work early today just so you can talk to her. No one knew about your plan except you. 

“Yes,” you replied, unconsciously fiddling with the fabric of your scrub pants.

She stared at you for what felt like a minute. You cannot even read what’s going on in her head. Her eyes wore no emotions and her lips formed a thin line. She moved her sight to the paper again. You felt like you needed to say something.

You cleared your throat, “I’m sorry if it seemed too soon.”

“Oh, it’s fine. We all know two weeks is the minimum time for notices like this.” Finally, her lips broke into a small smile, easing you for a little, as she looks at you again. “May I ask your reason for making this decision?”

You didn’t hesitate on telling your true reason, “I need to take a break and a new environment due to recent circumstances.”

That was two days ago. Gail approved your resignation letter after that exchange and was supportive of your decision. She said you can come to her anytime if you need a recommendation letter for your next employer. Your two-week notice began that same day without anyone– even Jisoo or Julia– knowing. You don’t want to disturb Jisoo because she’s already stressed enough with her wedding.

“You coming home?” Julia asked as you two get your bags on your lockers. 

You two just finished your graveyard shift at seven o clock. You just had a twelve-hour shift but you’re still off to somewhere.

You shook your head, “Not yet. I’m taking a train to Incheon.” 

Her head tilted in your direction, “What? Why? That’s like an hour's ride from here.”

“I’ll be checking this studio apartment unit I saw online,” you answered like it’s not a big deal.

Her eyes widened almost instantly, “You’re moving?!”

You quietly nod your head to her surprised question. A hint of excitement was also obvious in her tone.

“That’s far! Have you told Jisoo yet?”

“Nope.”

“How about Taehyung? Is he going to travel from there to his shop every day? And the house–”

“I still haven’t talked to him about it.” you cut her off calmly before she can ask anything else.

Julia was quick to understand what you meant. Your lips formed into a small, sad smile after saying that. Julia just waved her hand back when you waved yours as you bid goodbye. She instantly knew that moving to a new place isn’t the only life-changing choice you’re making in your life right now.

It was a couple of days before Jisoo and Namjoon’s special day, exactly three days in your two-week notice. Raindrops just happened to visit every night you have a late night shift. You didn’t notice the weather until you heard the roars of thunder while you were in the shower. 

You were busy the whole day in your room. Just cleaning up, feeling like a robot, numbly working so much but eating less. You only had a late breakfast. Taehyung made you buttermilk waffles with fruits, leaving it in a Tupperware on your kitchen counter. You ate and made sure to leave no dishes in the sink. Like a ghost, that’s how you liked to describe your recent presence in your shared home.

You find yourself busy since morning, removing photos in the frames you displayed before and folding some of your clothes from your closet to your luggage. Then, you prepared for your eight-hour shift. Just five minutes past ten in the evening, you walked out of your room ready to go.

“Hey.” 

You saw Taehyung sitting on one of the chairs on your kitchen counter. A thin sheet of smoke from the cup on the table showed he was drinking tea. 

“Hi.” you greeted him shortly.

The shorter your response is, the smaller the chances of small talk, you thought. 

“I packed you some light snacks there. Just some granola and fruits. Also, yogurt.”  

You want to feel something. The joy and giddiness you always have when Taehyung does nice things for you, pre and post-accident. Something that will make your day and shifts your mood. But you almost felt nothing now.

“It’s raining hard tonight,” he mumbled, looking outside the small window in your kitchen.

“It is.”

You tried to busy yourself with putting the snacks he prepared in your bag, not even looking up at him. Not until he said,

“Can I walk you to the stop?” 

Finally, you looked at him. He cannot assume if you’re surprised based on your expression because your face remained blank. No emotions at all.

He continued, ”I just want to make sure you’ll get to work safely.”

“Okay.” Whatever you say.

“You know, you don’t have to do any of this.” You were just looking ahead as you resumed, “You’re not obligated to do anything with me.”

“I wanted to do this.” He replied.

You knew he was looking in your direction through your peripheral vision. As much as you wanted to believe his sincerity, you don’t want to get your hopes high. He was just being nice. That’s it.

Before you go, he handed you another extra umbrella. No one said a single word. You sat away from the windows, just at the back of the bus. Because you knew damn well that you might feel guilty if you see Taehyung frozen on the same spot, waiting for your bus to leave.

“Wake her up. I’ll take out our stuff.”

Jimin unfastened his seatbelt after parking the car. Taehyung turned his head back to your direction. You have been sleeping throughout the whole night and none of them bothered to wake you up when they had a quick stopover since they knew you came from an overnight shift earlier. He got off his seat, gently closing the passenger door.

“YN….” he softly calls for your name.

It took him two more calls before you hummed and moved on to your seat. Your eyes were still closed as you respond to him, still half-asleep,

“What?”

“We’re here…”

Slowly, your eyes opened. You blink a couple times before rubbing your eyes as you sat back properly. Slightly confused, you looked around. He watched as you slowly get back to your senses and realize that you have arrive at the event venue.

“Oh…” you said under your breath. You ran your hand on your dress to smoothen out the tiny wrinkles. Unexpectedly, you turned to Taehyung, “How do I look? Did my hair–”

“Lovely,” he murmured.

For a moment there, you thought you heard a small beat inside your chest. You stare at each other’s eyes and the first thing you sense was familiarity. Then, longing. Then, abruptly, you looked away. Taehyung wasn’t sure if your eyes began glistening before you blinked away. He was about to ask when Jimin spoke outside the car,

“Is she awake? Let’s go. The rehearsal is starting soon, we still have to get these bags in the hotel.”

Thank God, you found a slight relief. Taehyung moved out of your way to let you get out of the car. Minutes later, you, Taehyung, and Jimin are walking to the entrance of the hotel when someone greeted you.

“Oh, my god. Hi!”

Yoonji, Jisoo’s cousin and also one of the bridesmaids, greeted you on your way into the small hotel meant for guests. He recognized her as one of the girls who brought you home after Jisoo’s bachelorette party. You two hugged for a quick second while she smiled politely at Taehyung and Jimin, who introduced himself.

“You can just go tell the receptionist your names. Then, they will say what’s your room number,” she instructed in a little hurry. “The rehearsal will be starting in a few minutes!”

She was pulled by another woman, who you assume is Jisoo’s other relative. You followed what she said and the receptionist was pleasant when she asked for your names. After that, she handed out two keys.

“Room 23 is for Mr. Park. Room 27 is for Ms. YN and Mr. Kim.” Kath, the said receptionist, said.

Your jaw almost dropped while Taehyung froze. Jimin, who stood between you two, immediately noticed your silent reactions. He took the initiative to ask,

“Uhm… May we request another room?”

Kath shook her head, “I’m sorry, sir. But the Kims were the ones who arranged everyone’s rooms.”

You cleared your throat as your brain began processing again, “But do you guys have other available rooms that we can pay for?” 

“We’re currently fully booked, miss. We assume the Kims already booked enough rooms for their relatives and other important guests. So we had our further rooms booked for other visiting guests in town.”

After squeezing your eyes shut while listening to her explanation, you just forced a smile, “Okay, we understand. Thank you.”

Your rooms were on the upper floor and there were only stairs. Taehyung offered to carry your small luggage for you but you declined. Both men could not tell if you were pissed as you kept a straight face until you and Taehyung stood in front of the twenty-seventh room. He unlocked the door for you two.

“Hm.” 

You unconsciously let out a heavy sigh as you and Taehyung scanned the whole room with your eyes. The room was not that… spacious. But it has what a guest needs. A king-sized bed, closet, own bathroom, a table and a chair, and flat-screen television mounted on the wall for entertainment. Plus, a big window with big curtains. 

“You know, maybe I can just go to Jimin’s,” Taehyung, who’s standing behind you, suggested.

But you looked at him, “Do you want to?”

“What?” he blinked, maybe he misheard it.

“Do you want to go there? I mean, this is a king-sized bed. I’m fine sharing it, less hassle. We can put a divider or something.” you recommended, pointing to the bed.

“Are you okay with that?”

You nod, “Yeah. Are you?”

“Okay.” Taehyungs nods too.

“Okay,” you whispered.

It was silent again after that. The atmosphere was weird and maybe suffocating. You are starting to hate this kind of air every time you’re with him. It’s encouraging the decisions you’ve been thinking about lately. Breaking the ice, you looked up at him.

“Uhm, we should go. The rehearsal’s starting soon.”

“Thank you for helping make tomorrow the perfect day for us.” 

The wedding rehearsals earlier were quick as it was not that complicated. Everyone was later invited to the rehearsal dinner. Your seats were pre-arranged. So of course, you two sat next to each other. 

Jisoo was in the middle of her dinner toast when Taehyung took a glance at you. Your sights were focused on the couple who stood in the middle of the event. Your lips formed into a relieved smile as your eyes brighten.

"Tonight, we appreciate you, the people we treasure the most. We toast to having the best wedding team ever!"

Everyone raised their glasses of wine and champagne and took a sip from their drinks. Then, everyone began talking to someone while enjoying the rest of the dinner. Everyone around you and Taehyung is having fun conversations. Even Jimin, who is now talking to some guests. After stealing another glance in your direction, he thought of making a conversation with you.

“I’ve never seen Namjoon that happy,” he mumbled as he looked at his friend.

Unexpectedly, you responded, looking at the couple, “So is Jisoo. Look at their smiles.” 

“How did they meet?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s a really good meet-cute.” you chuckled, shoulders visibly relaxing. 

Then, you began talking about the beginning of your friends’ love story. You were proud as you shared that you were present when they first met. And after days of getting blank stares and rejections from you, Taehyung can see a genuine smile on your face again. He can listen to more of your stories if that is what it takes for you two to be okay again.

The conversation plays out until you and Taehyung decided to get out of the event since guests began going too. From Jisoo and Namjoon’s meet-cute, the topic jumped to how you had a couple of double dates with them. You were enjoying telling stories that you almost forgot about that gloomy feeling you’d been having in you for days now until Taehyung asked another question while you two stroll your way back to your shared room.

“Maybe we could do that again with them?”

You turned your head at him, raising an eyebrow, “What?”

“Double dates. It seemed like we had fun with them,” he replied, hands in his pockets as he smiled softly.

Then, once again, these heavyweights slowly landed on your shoulders and you can feel something breaking inside of you, making you clutch your palm on the skirt of your dress. Taehyung quicking took notice of you pausing and looking at him with lips slightly parted and the joy in your eyes faded, worrying him.

“Hey? You okay?” he asked gently, looking at you.

With that, you snapped out of your trance and nods, “Yeah, sorry.”

God! Get ahold of yourself. You remind yourself. You remembered your things packed back at home and the resignation you signed days ago. You already had a plan and this sudden idea from Taehyung should not change any of it. Unconsciously, you let out a sigh. Taehyung’s heart beats faster.

“Did I say anything wrong?

“Oh, no.” you forced a smile as you took steps with him to the stairs. You let out an awkward chuckle, “I just don’t think we can do double dates anytime soon.”

“Ah, yeah.” he went along.

And it’s silent all over again. But this time, there was this air between you two. You both can feel that someone wants to say something to another. But, both of you two can’t. With every step closer to your room, the air gets thinner and thinner. And when you stood outside your door,

It shattered.

“Can we talk?”

“Can I talk to you?”

Both you and Taehyung said at the same time. You two were staring at each other when you said that. And when you two realized what happened, you looked away with an airy chuckle. You opened the door and he followed inside.

“So… are we going to talk here or outside?” Taehyung spoke when he saw you opening the curtains, letting the fresh air get into the room.

“Uhm, here’s fine,” you replied before inhaling again on the small balcony.

The original plan was to let Taehyung know about your plans after this event. But you just can’t keep it anymore. Especially after you reacted with Taehyung offering ideas like double date again. Taehyung wanted to wait too and he was willing. But he felt he needed to say what he wants now. It might help your relationship at the moment.

“Okay,” you whispered.

You sat on the soft mattress of the bed. Taehyung took a seat on the chair next to the table, just a few feet away from you. He watched as you bit your lip, looking down. You fiddled with your fingers and he can see your chest heave. You were visibly nervous and it makes him wonder what are going to say. 

“YN–”

“Can–”

He nods at you to continue and you did, “I was just going to ask if I can go first.”

“Sure,” he answered, leaning back in the chair.

“Okay. Thank you,” you said every word with the heaviest sigh since you find your heart pounding like crazy just now. 

With all the will in your body, you focused your sight on the man in front of you. His hair was pushed back and the first two buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned. His eyes gaze back at yours, you wished you can just communicate with him through this since it might be easier. But you can’t. And within seconds, you can feel the tears at the edge of your blurring sight.

“Taehyung…I… Uhm…” you stuttered when you see a flicker of concern in his eyes. But you continued, “I’m leaving.”

He just stared after you said that. Then, you read the confusion on his face, “What?”

You gulped, “I’m leaving this… arrangement … or whatever this is called. Us. I’m leaving us.”

Your hands shake while waiting for a reaction from him when you said that. But you cannot read his face anymore so you went on.

“I’m moving out of the house. I already looked for an apartment. I know, the house is our shared property. We can talk about the whole splitting thing when I–”

“Are we breaking up?” Taehyung finally said something. His eyebrows were scrunched and his eyes were surprised. But his tone was in between shock and sadness. And maybe mad. You cannot tell.

“Is there even any relationship to break?” 

That was the first thing that came into your mind and you barely thought about it as you said it. You matched his tone. Now, it feels like you two were overwhelmed with emotions and the silence that followed after your question helped to at least make you calm a little. 

Taehyung, on the other hand, is not off his peak of emotions. But he was quiet. He doesn’t know what to feel. He cannot tell what he’s been feeling. Even after what happened these past few days, he didn’t expect to hear this from you. 

“You don’t know me, Taehyung. I’m basically a stranger to you and I’m more than grateful to you for at least letting me take care of you after the accident. But it’s not your obligation to be with me just because I was your girlfriend. The last thing that I want is to force you to stay committed–”

You were ready to end the conversation just like that. But Taehyung cut you off,

“What if I want to? What if I want to be with you now?”

“What?”

You didn’t sound happy. Because you’re not. Taehyung sensed it, you felt quite the opposite when he said that. Still, you stumbled with words.

“Wh– No! N-No, you don’t.”

“I do,” he said like you were challenging him to say it.

You remained unhappy and let out a firm, “No.”

“I do. Why do you keep–”

“Because that would just make me feel shit! You only want me now because you learned what happened between you and Lily!”

Taehyung’s mouth immediately ran dry. For the first time ever since the accident, you raised your voice at him. It’s like watching a volcano explode. Warm drops of tears flow down your cheeks. Your lips were quivering as you continued. Your shoulder shakes as you continued,

“You can’t just choose me like that! That’s fucking unfair! I– I’ve been feeling nothing but awful and lonely for the longest time. I can’t even sleep without having a nightmare about that night! And now that I’m trying to do something for myself, you’re telling me you want to be with me? Right after talking to your ex behind my back? The ex that you originally remembered as your girlfriend? Taehyung, that’s just so fucking unfair.”

You remained seated on the bed but your hand was clutching on the sheet under you. Your voice became weaker as you reached the last sentence. Wiping your tears, you cleared your throat,

 

“If you want me now, that would make me feel like someone you just kept around as a second choice. You know?”

Hearing that, Taehyung instinctively shakes his head, “No, it’s not like that–”

“But that’s how I feel right now,” you confessed in a sad whisper. “And I’m scared that the longer I try to keep this relationship, the higher the chance I’ll lose myself in the process.”

That was another confession. After countless talks and reflection with yourself and your close friends, you knew that sooner or later you have to go for your own. It just took you long to accept it and take a step. You were hopeful then.

It took some minutes for someone to say something again. There was like a big question in the room with you, asking, what’s next. Taehyung who remained speechless in the same chair, just watched you quietly. While you got up from the bed and reached for your phone and room keys. 

“Five years was a lot to be missed and forgotten, Taehyung. I just think that if we go on our separate ways, you can focus on exploring what you lost without the pressure of being committed to me. And I can try to focus on myself again.”

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RESTARTING OVER AGAIN TAGLIST [🔧🔨 ]

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PERMANENT TAGLIST

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[vorbarrsultana]

the vampire lestat reread, pt. 1 (lestat and nickistat)

also known as "i decided to reread tvl after the season finale because some takes i've seen online give me the impression i read a completely different book two years ago". i've finished it two days ago, and turns out i have more than 5000 words of notes that significally exceed tumblr character limit. so, i had to split them into three parts.

here is part one, all about dramatic theater kids full of love, sad violinists of infinite beauty, and friends-to-lovers romances doomed by the narrative.

i love lestat.

i forgot how fun and likable tvl lestat is from page one. and how different he is from his fanon characterization!

lestatposting is fun, i get it, but i am starting to get annoyed at the amount of fanfics where lestat needs someone to help him adapt to modern times. he is doing fine on his own, thank you. it took him less than two weeks to start a rock band.

(and the whole iphone thing from "prince lestat" is more about him not seeing it as something useful since he has a mind-skype ability to talk to any vamp on planet earth, and they cannot decline the call.)

lestat is not stupid. impulsive? yes. stubborn? of course. but clever, resourseful, and cunning when he needs to be. all of this makes him a great hunter! also, really thoughtful when the mood strikes, and his quiet, existential moments have some of the best prose in that book.

i wish someone smarter than me wrote a good meta about lestat & social class because he really seems to buy into the idea of "noblesse oblige" i.e. the belief that aristocrats are obliged to take care of those less fortunate. it's present in the way he kills the wolf pack for the villagers (who live on his father's land), and later takes responsibility for the theatre troupe & remnants of armand's coven, even though he doesn't owe them anything.

also, characterization of lestat as someone socially cluesless is simply untrue. sure, he plays dumb on occasion (and hates it every time because early life illiteracy trauma), but he is also good at reading people. like, he got a pretty accurate read of armand behind the angelic facade during their first face-to-face meeting. the only people he has trouble reading are those closest to him because he heavily projects his abandonment issues on them.

lestat's struggle of being "too much" contrasts nicely with the struggle of never being enough which is so crucial to louis. hashtag made for each other.

and juxtaposition of lestat's desire to be loved for who he is and louis's struggle with identity is also delicious.

this time i also related so much to lestat's "malady of mortality" and his search for meaning in the world. which ultimately fails because he is forcibly turned into a monster, and now every ounce of happiness he might bring into the world (and lestat desperately wants to do good!) is outweighed by him killing to survive.

and marius later reinforced the belief that vampirism has no higher purpose, and no wonder that nola!lestat is a shell of his former self.

lestat's turning is the most classic horror moment of the vampire chronicles to me. the mina harker of it all. the creature of night shrouded in terror snatching an innocent victim from the arms of their love right before bleak november sunrise.

also, all the implications of what magnus has done to lestat were even more clear during this reread, and i wonder if that was the reason rolin "i-love-narrative-parallels" jones added bruce into claudia's story.

the book also explains perfectly why lestat is so well suited for vampirism. his curiosity, thirst for new experiences, and adventuring spirit are his eternal engine on the devil's road :)

however, the downside of that personality facet is that lestat steamrolls over his trauma telling himself "this is fine! look, satan, i am making the best of it", which in turn leads to the iwtv nola mess.

and i feel like this constant search for positives in vampirism (that unwilligly turned lestat & claudia share) is why they can't really relate to louis, who chose it for himself. if these two start to get too existential, the temptation to throw themselves into the fire might become unbearable.

lestat equating his loneliness with his evilness is interesting, but i have nothing to say about that for now other than equation being there.

lestat's explosive temper is also present in the book. there is a constant pattern of lestat doing things he regrets the most (like the theater performance fiasco or eating people at notre dame's steps) when he is angry or upset.

let's talk about nicki. i love him, despite half of fandom hating on him for some reason.

lestat has a type, which is "good catholic boy" with narrow view of good and evil. except louis is of a parent's favorite, conforming variety, and nicki is the rebellious one, driven to the utmost cynicism by religious dogmas.

however, despite being a self-proclaimed cynic, nicki practically drowns in catholic guilt, almost reveling in the fact that everything he does, from playing violin in the boulevard theater to having an affair with lestat, is wrong. there is no meaning in anything, and he is doomed to die a sinner's death.

he is doomed! by the narrative though.

lestat and nicki's philosophical difference seems to be that nicki (unlike lestat) does not believe in inherent goodness of the positive emotions. for him, "sin always feels good", therefore happiness they bring performing = sin.

but still, nickistat's love is so touching. after lestat ghosts nicki to protect him, he still trusts lestat's love for him and the troupe, thinks best of him, and shuts down all nasty rumours. in turn, lestat equates all the good that was in his mortal life, all his hopes and dreams with nicki. he is a symbol of everything magnus took from him.

AND THEY COMMUNICATE THROUGH MUSIC, AND IT'S THEM AT THEIR BEST, AND IT'S BEAUTIFUL.

nicki almost became lestat's charlie. when they meet face to face for the first time after lestat's transformation, he can barely contain his hunger magnified by attraction.

the most terribly sad thing about nicki is the unfairness of all that happened to him. he had seen lestat being shot right before him, then he disappeared with dying gabrielle, then the coven kidnapped and tortured him until he lost his mind.

and for nicki, the dark gift is a confirmation of everything he believes in being true. the meaninglessness of it all. evil being the only certain thing in the world. the way to fall into a deeper, darker abyss than the one that was before the mortal him. and it is a confirmation that lestat's inner light he loved so much will eventually burn out.

(his spark in the dark, if you will.)

(and lestat's dream before turning nicki hurts, because he dreams of growing up and growing old together, of maturing past magnus's eternal lelio with sunlight in his hair and summer sky in his eyes. oh, the lesdaughter of it all.)

there is certainly a parallel between nickistat's bitter "in darkness, we are equal now" vs loustat's comforting "in the quiet dark, we were equals".

[sparkymalone]

Okay, so remember how it was Kazuichi's birthday like... two weeks ago? Well, here's that birthday fic, lmao.

This took a long time just because life kept getting in the way. Hopefully the quality didn't suffer. Please enjoy~

A Sonsoudam Birthday Special!

Rating: Here be smut.

Word Count: 4593

So far, Kazuichi's birthday left a lot to be desired.

His parents hadn't done anything for him, which was fine. He didn't expect them to, since they never did. His mother had at least texted him to wish him ‘happy birthday,’ so that was nice.

Kazuichi had looked forward to spending the day with his friends much more. Hajime had made plans with some of the others to take Kazuichi out for the day. The mechanic was thrilled, since he didn't have a lot of good birthday memories.

They met up at a fast food restaurant Kazuichi liked. Most of his class was there, and the knowledge that that many people wanted to celebrate his birthday warmed his heart. He ended up crying awkwardly on Hajime's shoulder until Fuyuhiko grumpily shoved him away from his boyfriend.

Still, lunch had been nice. There was plenty of fun conversation and good, greasy food. Kazuichi had a pretty good time.

After that, several of his classmates had to leave, claiming they had other plans. Kazuichi wasn't bothered by it. He didn't need a big group to celebrate the rest of his birthday.

The remaining group decided to go see a movie. There was a new action flick out that Kazuichi was dying to see, so when Hajime suggested they go, he excitedly agreed. They made their way to the theater, got their tickets and snacks, and took their seats.

Kazuichi enjoyed the movie, but he began feeling like the odd man out part way through. He was unsurprised that Hajime ended up making out with his boyfriend for most of the film, since he and Fuyuhiko were usually all over each other when they thought no one was looking. Sonia and Gundham weren't kissing, thankfully, but they were still sitting rather close together, and Kazuichi felt his usual twinge of jealousy.

Honestly, he probably would've felt like a total fifth wheel if none of his other friends were there. Nekomaru and Chiaki were sitting between Kazuichi and Sonia, and he was thankful for the obstruction so he couldn't see his beloved princess cuddling with her boyfriend.

Unfortunately, that didn't last. Chiaki fell asleep almost immediately, slouched in her seat. Nekomaru left about thirty minutes into the movie, announcing his need to use the restroom. Kazuichi sighed, knowing he wasn't coming back.

That basically left Kazuichi alone with the two happy couples. He tried not to think about it or feel lonely, instead focusing on the movie. For the most part, he was able to ignore the others, except for when Fuyuhiko let a moan slip out or Sonia quietly giggled about something. But it was fine.

Eventually, the movie was over, and Kazuichi felt excited to find out what Hajime had planned next. He was disappointed, however, when his friend told him that he was going to bail early to get Chiaki home, since she was still falling asleep. Kazuichi frowned, but he still voiced his understanding. Fuyuhiko opted to go with his boyfriend, and the three of them began walking home.

That left Kazuichi with Sonia and Gundham. Normally, he would be thrilled to spend time with Miss Sonia, especially on a day like his birthday. But Gundham being there made the situation much less exciting.

Kazuichi turned to his two remaining friends, feeling his stomach sink as he saw the two of them huddled together, talking quietly. The mechanic considered just calling the whole thing off and heading home, but his thoughts were interrupted by both Sonia and Gundham turning to face him.

“What would you like to do next, Kazuichi?” Sonia asked, smiling brightly.

The pink-haired boy's eyes lit up. “You mean… you still wanna hang out?”

Gundham chuckled. “Of course, Tinkerer. It is still the anniversary of your birth, is it not?”

Kazuichi's chest felt warm and he rubbed it absently. “Aww… Thanks, guys…”

The three of them spent the rest of the afternoon together. They went to a few shops and then a small bakery, where Sonia insisted Kazuichi pick out a cake. He did so cheerfully, feeling completely ecstatic that Miss Sonia was buying him cake for his birthday.

Eventually they headed back to the dormitories, cake in tow. Kazuichi led the way to his room, and, after a brief debate about what to watch, the three of them enjoyed the small cake. The atmosphere was friendly and comfortable, everything that Kazuichi had ever wanted.

The mechanic was thrilled that he and Sonia were having fun, but he was surprised by how much he was enjoying spending time with Gundham. Normally he couldn't stand the other boy, considering him annoying and just generally an obstacle between himself and his beloved princess. But today, actually sitting and talking with him, Kazuichi found himself having a really good time.

As night approached, Sonia stretched and yawned. “Perhaps it's time to get back to our own rooms.”

Kazuichi's heart sank. She was right, of course, they would eventually need to part ways, but he honestly didn't feel ready yet.

Sensing his hesitation, Gundham placed a soothing hand on Kazuichi's shoulder, causing the pink-haired boy to look at him in surprise. “Your mortal form requires rest, Tinkerer. As does the Dark Queen.”

Rolling his eyes at the nicknames, Kazuichi huffed. “I guess,” he mumbled.

Sonia laughed softly. “It has been a lot of fun ‘chilling out’ with you, Kazuichi. But unless we're having a slumber party, I believe it’s time to go.”

The mechanic's eyes widened and a blush slowly spread across his face at the thought of having a slumber party with Sonia.

Gundham grabbed Kazuichi by the chin and turned his face towards him. “Spare my queen your impure thoughts,” he ordered in a low tone.

Kazuichi was horrified by the way his body reacted to the sudden, dominant move. He stammered out a reply, feeling heat rising inside of him, eyes locked with the breeder.

Sonia smiled mischievously as she looked between the two boys, immediately understanding Kazuichi's expression. “Oh, my… Perhaps you really were hoping for a sleepover.”

The mechanic turned to her, a sense of shame settling in his gut. “N-No! I wasn't thinking anything weird, I just-!” He trailed off, glancing between his two friends. He sighed. “I guess I just wasn't ready for my birthday to be over yet, y'know? It's… probably the best one I've ever had.”

Surprised, Sonia and Gundham looked at each other. They silently debated what to do, neither one wanting to abandon Kazuichi after such an earnest confession.

The princess scooted closer. The three of them were all sitting on the floor with their backs against Kazuichi's bed, and Sonia moved in until her shoulder was brushing Kazuichi's. “Well,” she began cautiously. “Maybe we don't need to leave quite yet.”

“I suppose we can spare a bit more time,” Gundham agreed, bumping against Kazuichi's other shoulder.

The pink-haired boy broke into a toothy grin. “Really? You guys want to keep hanging out?” His friends nodded, and Kazuichi couldn't help feeling warm and fuzzy. He also pointedly ignored the more complicated feelings that arose when he thought about being sandwiched in between the other two.

For the next couple of hours, they watched some show or another while Kazuichi talked excitedly, thrilled to have someone to talk to. His friends thankfully didn't seem to mind, keeping up with the conversation as much as they could.

Sonia and Gundham kept giving each other looks that Kazuichi couldn't decipher. He tried to ignore it at first, but eventually it started to get to him.

“Hey,” he said after catching it happening again. “Why do you guys keep doing that? Are you not having a good time?” His anxiety welled up inside him as he awaited an answer.

Gundham shook his head. “I assure you that we are enjoying your company, Tinkerer.”

“Then what-” Kazuichi was cut off as Sonia took him by the chin the same way Gundham had earlier.

“You have nothing to worry about,” the princess assured him, and when had she gotten so close? “We are having a burst.”

“A what?!” the mechanic squeaked.

“A blast,” Gundham corrected, and now he was much closer than Kazuichi remembered, too.

Kazuichi's heart began beating faster as he realized that both of them were closing in on him. “I'm glad, but wh-”

He was cut off again when Gundham leaned in to murmur into his ear, “We only wish to make your day as memorable as possible.”

The pink-haired boy shivered at the way the breeder's voice rumbled. “U-Uh… Thanks…?”

Sonia was still smiling at him, but there was something about her expression that had Kazuichi's pulse jumping. “Is there anything else you'd like to do for your birthday?” she purred.

Kazuichi had never been this confused - or this turned on. What the hell was happening? Were Sonia and Gundham coming on to him? Ignoring the hopeful twinge he felt, he glanced between his two friends. “Um, I'm… open to suggestions…”

The princess's gaze became mischievous again. “In my country, there is a tradition where the person whose birthday it is receives a spanking equal to the number of years they're celebrating. Does that sound like something you'd like to do?”

Looking at her in shock, Kazuichi's mouth worked soundlessly. What was he supposed to say to that? What could he say to that? Other than-

“Yes, please.”

Kazuichi was startled to realize that the plea had come from him. He liked the sound of Sonia's “tradition” way more than he thought he would. He liked it even more when Sonia clapped her hands together happily.

“Wonderful!” The princess looked past Kazuichi. “Gundham, would you please assist me?”

Suddenly Kazuichi found himself being manhandled up onto his knees and bent over the edge of the bed. He yelped in surprise, looking up at Gundham. The breeder just smirked at him, holding his arms behind his back.

“Now, Kazuichi,” Sonia began, commanding his attention once more. “Obviously a spanking works better if you remove your pants, but if you aren't comfortable-”

Before she could even finish, Kazuichi struggled out of Gundham's grip and began unzipping his jumpsuit. He didn't even consider how strange the situation was as he kicked the garment off, leaving him in his undershirt and underwear. He paused when he saw the surprised looks on the other two’s faces. “Uh…”

Sonia recovered quickly, smiling at his eagerness. “Excellent. Now resume your position.” She chuckled as Kazuichi clambered to do what she said, bending over the edge of the bed again. “Good boy.”

The mechanic shivered at her praise. He knew he should probably feel ashamed about how eager he was, but Miss Sonia was telling him to take his clothes off, so his shame could wait.

Above him, Gundham cleared his throat. One glance at the taller boy revealed that his face was completely flushed. “What now, my queen?”

Sonia surveyed the situation, eyes sparkling with excitement. She had always loved giving orders, as she was raised to do, so the feeling of power over her classmate was exhilarating. And if Kazuichi enjoyed following, then that was even better.

“Gundham,” Sonia began, drawing herself up and using her full royal aura, “spank this man.”

Kazuichi felt a brief moment of panic. He had agreed to the scenario under the assumption that Miss Sonia would be the one spanking him, so the knowledge that it would be Gundham was a little upsetting. He began to sit up, but was blocked when the breeder grabbed his arms. Gundham easily manhandled him, twisting his arms up behind him so that he could hold them with one hand, pressing his cheek against the mattress.

“Remain still, Tinkerer,” the dark-haired boy rumbled. “I will use force to keep you in your place, if I must.”

Kazuichi was horrified when another shiver of excitement ran through him at the mention of being put in his place. He was certain he was straight (definitely, probably, maybe) so he wasn't sure what to think about his sudden desire to be ordered around by Gundham, of all people.

And yet, when the breeder told him to ready himself, he did just that. He leaned more onto the mattress, presenting his backside. He took a shaky breath and then… waited.

He didn't have to wait long. Gundham raised his free hand and brought it down on Kazuichi's ass. It wasn't a particularly hard slap, but it was enough to make the mechanic yelp.

“One!” Sonia counted cheerfully.

Huffing out a laugh, Gundham repeated the action, spanking the other boy again. Kazuichi cried out again, more in surprise than in pain.

“Two!”

By the third strike, Kazuichi became acutely aware that his underwear was softening the blows. His traitorous brain told him that the whole situation would be better if Gundham was hitting his bare skin, but he fought those thoughts back. Having his bare ass out would be fucking weird, why would he want that?

Unfortunately for him, Gundham realized the same thing. “My lady, I believe these swats would be more effective without this fabric barrier.” He curled one finger under the waistband of Kazuichi's underwear and tugged on it to illustrate his point, making the pink-haired boy yelp.

“H-Hey!” Kazuichi whined.

Sonia just nodded. “Yes, I see. Shall we remove them?”

“Hey!” the mechanic cried again.

The other two looked at him in concern. “Is this still alright, Kazuichi?” Sonia asked him earnestly.

Kazuichi looked up at her, feeling a flood of emotions. On the one hand, he wanted to please Sonia, but on the other hand, being half naked in front of her was a little… much.

Not to mention the fact that Gundham was also there. Kazuichi glanced up at the taller boy. Gundham was watching him, cheeks still flushed, but his expression was neutral.

The pink-haired boy considered his options, really analyzing how he felt. This whole thing was so sudden, but the idea of a birthday spanking was so weirdly appealing, and the possibility of it getting even better certainly was tempting. Sure, letting them take off his underwear was embarrassing, but it might be worth it.

And so, Kazuichi sighed and laid his head back down, cheeks burning with shame. “I-It's fine.”

“Are you certain? Don't just say yes for our sakes,” Sonia told him, furrowing her brow.

Gundham hummed in agreement. “This is all meant to be for you, my paramour. We do not wish to push you so far out of the realm of your comfort.”

Ignoring the strange nickname, Kazuichi put on his best reassuring smile. “It's totally fine. I want to try it, too. So go ahead.”

Sonia and Gundham exchanged a look, but ultimately decided to continue. The breeder tightened his grip on Kazuichi's arms and used his free hand to peel his boxers off. The pink-haired boy helped shift his position so that the garment could be completely removed, leaving him half-naked in his bedroom with his two hot classmates, and oh god, how did this get so out of hand?!

…And did he just think of Gundham as hot?!

His inner panic was immediately stifled when Gundham's hand came down on his bare ass, producing a stinging sensation that made Kazuichi yelp. It hurt, but it also felt weirdly… good. So good that he almost didn't notice when Sonia started her count back at ‘one.’

“H-Hey,” he panted, looking up at the princess. “Shouldn't that be ‘four?’”

Sonia glared back at him, hands on her hips. “Are you talking back to me?”

Kazuichi's eyes widened and another weird thrill ran through him, pooling hot in his lower belly. “No, of course not!” he quickly insisted. “B-But I already got three-” He cut off with a shout as Gundham spanked him again.

“Two,” Sonia told him smugly, making it very clear that she would not be accepting any arguments.

The mechanic looked up at her hazily, feeling his body responding to the dominant treatment. “Two,” he agreed quietly.

Above him, Gundham chuckled. “Submitting so easily, my paramour?” He swatted the other boy's backside again, pausing to allow his partners to count. “Perhaps you are enjoying this little game more than you anticipated, hmm?”

Kazuichi glared at him. “Speak plainly, you freak-!” He was cut off again by another smack, but this time, the sound that came out of his mouth was much closer to a moan.

“I think you are right, Gundham. I think he's enjoying himself,” Sonia practically purred. She sat on the edge of the bed right next to where Kazuichi was bent over. “But, just in case he isn't,” she began, reaching out to stroke the mechanic's hair, “he should choose a safeword. So, Kazuichi?”

This situation just got weirder and weirder, but Kazuichi was more than ready to just roll with it. He leaned into Sonia's touch as his brain quickly scrambled to come up with a safeword. A thought dawned on him and he glanced up at Gundham, smirking slightly. “Hamster.”

The breeder glared at him, but Sonia giggled. “Alright, then. The safeword is ‘hamster.’”

With an unamused huff, Gundham swatted Kazuichi's ass again. “Very well, Tinkerer. You may invoke the Four Dark Devas of Destruction, if you must. Whatever ensures your comfort.”

“Shut up,” Kazuichi grumbled. That earned him a much harder smack, and this time he definitely let out a moan.

“Shall we continue?” Sonia asked sweetly. Kazuichi nodded, looking ashamed, but he still seemed to be enjoying himself.

Gundham continued administering swats to Kazuichi's backside and Sonia continued counting cheerfully. The mechanic bit his lip, trying not to let another moan slip out, but it was futile. About halfway through, he gave up and let himself enjoy his birthday spanking. He gasped and moaned and squirmed beneath his partners’ gaze.

Finally, the last smack landed on Kazuichi's ass, causing him to cry out one last time. There was a pause as the mechanic caught his breath, leaning heavily on the bed.

Gundham gently caressed the reddened skin of Kazuichi's backside, soothing the sting. “You did well, my paramour.”

“Yes, that was a wonderful performance,” Sonia assured him, running her fingers through his hair.

Kazuichi made a weak noise, mind hazy. Somehow, the spanking had felt so good, and he was now faced with the conundrum of being rock hard in front of his friends. He felt ashamed of himself, getting a boner over something so weird, but he also didn't really care. Sonia and Gundham were petting him and god, did he want them to do more.

He looked up at Sonia nervously. The princess tilted her head slightly. “What is it? Is there something else you want?”

Kazuichi was struggling to find the words. Above him, Gundham chuckled low in his throat. “I believe I know what this harlot craves.” The mechanic felt another shiver of excitement at being referred to as a ‘harlot,’ but he didn't have time to unpack his feelings before Gundham used his grip on his arms to pull him into a kneeling position, revealing his erection.

Yelping, Kazuichi struggled in his grip, blood rushing to his cheeks and his cock in equal measure. “Hey! W-What the fuck-!”

Sonia wasn't listening, just nodding in agreement with her boyfriend. “Yes, I believe you're right. Judging by his predicament, I think our pet needs a helping hand, don't you?”

The pink-haired boy blinked in surprise. A helping hand? Did that mean…?

“I agree,” Gundham replied. He moved behind Kazuichi, tightening his hold on his arms to keep him immobile. “I believe he would prefer your touch, my queen.”

“Perhaps,” Sonia purred, reaching out to tilt Kazuichi's chin up, commanding his attention. “But he will take what he can get, won't he?”

The mechanic nodded mindlessly, completely enamored by the princess in front of him. He really would prefer to have Sonia touch him, but if she told him that Gundham was going to jerk him off instead, he would gladly take it.

So it was a pleasant surprise when Sonia leaned down and wrapped her fingers around his erection. He felt an immediate surge of pleasure, and he bucked into her hand with a gasp.

The princess chuckled. “Oh, my. He certainly is responsive.” She began slowly stroking his cock up and down, smiling when he bucked again. “Gundham, please hold him still.”

“Of course,” the dark-haired boy replied, voice rumbling in Kazuichi's ear. He was still holding the mechanic's arms, and his free hand moved to grasp his hip, keeping them in place. “Behave yourself, Tinkerer.” As he spoke, his breath washed over Kazuichi's ear, making him shiver.

Sonia resumed stroking the pink-haired boy, slender fingers skimming along his length. Kazuichi moaned sharply, marveling at how soft the princess' hand was. He couldn't help staring, watching her tug and tease and squeeze and-

“Does that feel good?” Sonia asked in a low tone. The smirk on her lips clearly conveyed that she already knew what his answer would be.

Kazuichi nodded emphatically. “Yes! Mmn, please don't stop!”

“Is this what you wanted for your birthday?” Sonia purred, jerking him faster.

The mechanic wanted to answer, but her hand just felt so good, all that came out of his mouth was a moan. He nodded again, hoping that was enough.

Gundham chuckled in his ear, hot breath making his eyelids flutter. Kazuichi turned his head to say something to the other boy (he had no idea what), but he froze when he found his face only inches away from his own. Gundham raised an eyebrow at him, and Kazuichi wasn't sure what to make of the sudden fluttering in his stomach.

His brain was too clouded by lust to unpack his feelings, so instead he ignored them. He let his instinct lead, gasping and attempting to buck into Sonia's hand, before abruptly lunging forward and crashing his lips into Gundham's.

The dark-haired boy was clearly caught off-guard. He let out a startled noise, but quickly regained his composure. He kissed back with equal fervor, tongue swiping over Kazuichi's lower lip. As soon as the mechanic opened his mouth, Gundham deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into his mouth.

Kazuichi had never been this confused, but he genuinely didn't care about that right now. His hips were jerking forward with every stroke of Sonia's fingers, chasing the pleasure. He whimpered into Gundham's mouth, squeezing his eyes shut.

He barely registered Sonia's pleased hum. “You two look so cute together.”

The pink-haired boy broke the kiss in a panic. “W-Wait, but you're the one that I - ahh!” He cut off with a cry as Sonia tightened her grip. She began stroking him more roughly than before, making him gasp and writhe.

“Now, now,” the princess teased, leaning closer. “Gundham and I have agreed to share you. You should be grateful to have two dominant partners like this.” She curled her free hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer until their noses were brushing. “You should thank us,” she told him in a low tone.

Kazuichi didn't even hesitate. “Thank you!”

“So impersonal,” Sonia chided, jerking him slower, fingers gliding over his skin in long, languid strokes. “You can do better than that, can't you, Kazuichi?”

The mechanic nodded eagerly, hips bucking again. “R-Right, of course I can… Thank you, Miss Sonia!” he gasped.

Sonia gave a pleased hum. “And who else?”

Kazuichi's mind went blank for a moment before he realized what she meant. “Oh… uh…” He turned his head to look at the boy behind him. “Thank you, Gundham…”

The breeder smirked at him. “You are most welcome, my paramour.” He leaned in to kiss Kazuichi's neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. “Now, beg the Dark Queen for your release.”

Blinking hazily, the pink-haired boy returned his attention to Sonia, moaning hoarsely. “P-Please, Miss - ahh!” He cut off with a sharp cry as Gundham bit the side of his neck.

“That is not the title I told you to use,” Gundham growled, and the sound made Kazuichi's knees feel weak.

Way past the point of having shame, Kazuichi quickly changed his plea. “Ngh, Dark Queen, can I please, please cum?”

Sonia gave him a satisfied smirk. “Oh? I think you can beg better than that.”

Kazuichi was so close now, but Sonia was stroking him so slowly, and he would give anything to get off. So he begged.

“Please, please, Miss Sonia, Dark Queen, I'll be so good, please let me cum, hah… Please…!” His hips bucked helplessly as he teetered on the edge.

The princess chuckled and caught Gundham's eyes. “Shall we give him what he wants?”

Humming thoughtfully, Gundham smirked back at her. “I suppose he has been behaving for us. Perhaps he has earned his release.”

Sonia nodded in agreement. “I think you're right. So, Kazuichi,” she locked eyes with the mechanic, expression completely serious. In her most commanding voice, she ordered, “Cum for us.”

Immediately, Kazuichi's hips jerked forward and his seed spilled over Sonia's fingers. He let out a long moan as his climax crashed over him. Eventually, he sagged in Gundham's hold, completely spent.

Sonia released him and went to get some tissues as Gundham relaxed his grip on Kazuichi's arms, gently easing him into a more comfortable position. The pink-haired boy looked up at the other two, panting and slowly gathering his wits. Sonia returned with the tissues and offered some to Kazuichi.

The mechanic furrowed his brow, his thoughts finally beginning to clear. “...What the hell just happened?”

Chuckling, the princess sat on the bed in front of him. “You seemed like you needed some birthday cheer.”

“Yeah, but… what?” Kazuichi reiterated, still confused.

“We have both had our eye on you for a while now, my paramour,” Gundham answered. “Tonight provided us an opportunity to act.”

Sonia nodded. “Yes, we have been trying to figure out a way to invite you to join us, however, it's a bit hard to find a chance to ask.” She smiled, looking a little embarrassed.

Kazuichi glanced back and forth between the two incredulously. “You… But you two are dating…”

“Yes,” Sonia confirmed.

“But you… want me to join you?” Kazuichi continued.

“Correct,” Gundham answered.

The pink-haired boy couldn't believe it. “But… why? Sorry, I just never really got the feeling that you guys liked me. Hell, I thought Gundham hated me.”

Sonia reached down to take his hand. “I am sorry if we made you feel like we didn't like you. I assure you that we do.”

Kazuichi looked at her hand gently holding his own. He had dreamt of being with her for so long, so having her here, asking him to be in a relationship with her, made his heart race. But on the other hand…

He glanced at Gundham, not sure what to make of the idea of being in a relationship with the overdramatic boy, as well. The thought didn't gross him out the way he had expected it to, making him question some things about himself. But did he really want to be with Gundham, of all people?

“What say you, Tinkerer?” Gundham prompted, taking Kazuichi's other hand.

The mechanic took a deep breath and squeezed both of their hands. He gave them a toothy grin. “Okay! Let's do it!”

Sonia and Gundham smiled. “Wonderful!” the princess cheered. In an instant, her demeanor changed back to deadly serious. “Now get on the bed.”

Kazuichi's eyes went wide and his whole body felt flushed. “Yes, ma'am.”

Sorry it kinda leaves off like that, but hey! Plenty of room for a continuation/sequel! (⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)

[wyattjohnston]

take my hand, baby - brock boeser

series: take you one day at a time

summary: the lead up to the 2023 trade deadline is a little chaotic.

warnings: pregnancy

word count: 2,342

The rumours had been flying for months, a long off-season of potential trade rumours and articles about moving him being the solution to the Canucks cap-space woes—Annie checked every notification on her phone in case it was the one that sealed their fate.

At the beginning of the season it had been devastating but understandable, knowing that Brock was unlikely to see out the season in Vancouver—that even if he did, Bo probably wouldn’t.

It became a lot less understandable a month into the season when Annie stared down at the positive pregnancy test while Brock was in the middle of a weeklong road trip up the east coast.

“I should have waited until he got home. Right, Coolie?” Annie asked as he started to hover around her legs. She scratched him behind the ears. “I should definitely tell him first but probably not on the phone. You have to promise to keep it a surprise.”

Coolie woofed and Annie took it as agreement before he trotted out of the room to tell Milo.

She tapped the stick against the edge of the sink a few times as she tried to work out what was really going through her mind. She didn’t feel the fear she once had, having the word ‘pregnant’ staring back up at her, which was a relief in and of itself. Most of her worry came from having to keep her mouth shut until she saw Brock again.

Annie smiled at her reflection in the mirror, a gentle laugh bubbling from her lips.

The test didn’t leave Annie’s mind once over the next four days; it made talking to Holly almost impossible, a lovely combination of secret keeping and her mind wandering to the test—to the future.

In a moment of weakness, unable to just keep the news between her and the dogs, Annie whispered it into Tulsa’s ear while Holly was distracted by Gunnar. At seven months old, Tulsa obviously had no idea what she was being told, but it settled something in Annie to say it out loud to another human.

“They’re going to be a little younger than you,” Annie said, bouncing Tulsa up and down on her knee, “but I hope you’re best friends.”

Holly had been none-the-wiser.

In their many phone calls before he came home, Brock remained unaware that Annie was keeping anything from him. He noted on more than one occasion that she sounded happy and she just shrugged and said it had been a good week.

It was still early in the afternoon when Brock got home, a benefit of time zones counteracting long flights, and Annie was lounging on their outdoor sofa, Coolie stretched out over her legs and Milo cuddled up into her side. Neither dog did anything more than lift their heads when the back door slid open and Brock walked out.

Annie never got sick of seeing him.

“I thought you’d be working,” he said, smiling fondly at the sight and leaning down to kiss her before he scratched both dogs behind the ears thoroughly.

“I scheduled it off when your schedule came out and I found out they’d shipped you off for ten days.”

He laughed, making room for himself on the couch—Coolie was unimpressed by the disruption but settled back into Brock’s lap. Annie had to find space on his lap around Coolie, but she managed.

Brock said, “You just had me home for like three weeks; you should be sick of me.”

“You weren’t supposed to fuck up your hand again, so I couldn’t prepare around that,” Annie said, tersely, still unhappy that he’d been put in the line up so soon after his surgery. She wasn’t unhappy with him—knowing all too well that if you give a hockey player the choice, they’ll say they’re fine to play—just at the organisation for letting him.

“I don’t want to talk about hockey.” Brock sighed heavily and Annie didn’t blame him. It had been a poor road trip—2 wins in 5 games—and only exacerbated the loss record while Brock was on the ice. He had 2 wins in 11 games.

It was as good a time as any, Annie figured. Her heartbeat was getting quicker and quicker, the anticipation growing with every second she waited. It would lift his mood, too, she was sure of it.

So, she asked, giddily, “Wanna know a secret?”

“Is Holly pregnant again?”

“No, Holly’s not pregnant,” Annie said. “I am.”

“What’s the secr—wait, Annie.”

She was sure his eyes had never been that wide, that his expression had never been happier—it certainly hadn’t in the last year. He reached out for Annie desperately, jostling both the dogs off the couch, and there was no time wasted in her climbing into his lap.

“It’s why I’ve been so happy this week,” she said into the top of Brock’s head.

His face was buried into her neck, his arms wrapped tightly around her body. Her straddle over his lap was rather awkward but he was holding her so close that moving was out of the occasion, it didn’t matter, really, when everything else felt positively euphoric.

“Holy shit, Annie, I love you so much.”

His voice was watery and she could feel his tears on her skin, holding him closer was no hardship—especially not when she was beginning to cry herself.

As much as Annie didn’t want to move, she did have to clamber off Brock’s lap because the feeling in her legs started to disappear. Brock was reluctant but he stood up with her, cupping her face and kissing her breathlessly.

“Who have you told?” he asked, not sounding like he’d be upset by any answer she gave. She was certain nothing could ruin the blissful expression on his face.

“You. The dogs. Tulsa. I only peed on a stick; I haven’t even told a doctor yet.”

“This is—this is unreal, Annie,” he said, just before he kissed her again. Her legs were getting weaker with every kiss. “Should we get married?”

“I don’t need to be married. If you want to be married then we can but we can do this without a wedding.”

Brock’s arms wrapped around her waist, and he lifted her off her feet to spin her around. The commotion caused the dogs to bark and start chasing Annie’s feet, but Brock didn’t let her down.

Annie wasn’t even supposed to be in Florida with them.

About a week before the All-Star break, something had clawed at her and told her she needed to be there with them, so she re-arranged her plans to go to Disney World with her brother, his wife and their two kids:

While six months pregnant.

Brock had let it happen because of that fact, and told her to change his plans, too.

It became clear on the 30th of January exactly what that clawing feeling had been.

It was just the two of them at the hotel, Annie barely made it out of the room before retreating back inside and going back to bed and Bo having left early because of the calls he was getting.

Annie didn’t even know until Bo knocked on her door, waking her up and asking to be let in. The dejected look on his face let her know right away what had transpired during her nap.

“Want to know where I’m going?” he asked, tapping his phone against his hand.

“I guess.”

“Islanders.”

The bottom fell out of Annie’s stomach as a map of North America flew into her mind, drawing a thick red line between Vancouver and New York. That was something to deal with later.

“It’s January,” Annie chose to settle on. “Why the fuck are they trading anybody in January?”

“I don’t know, Ann.”

She stared at him, the map not leaving her mind. It was so far, further than he’d ever been before, and that in and of itself was terrifying.

“I don’t want to make this about me,” she said, furious at the tears welling up in her eyes, “but I’m going to because you’re supposed to be here for me and here after this baby’s born and Holly is supposed to help me. I can’t—I can’t do this without you. I’ve never been able to do anything without you.”

Her hands settled over her ever-growing and ever-present bump as she spoke. It had been a smooth pregnancy, all things considered—aside from some lethargy and the first trimester morning sickness, she had nothing to complain about.

It wasn’t even the birthing part she was particularly scared of.

The part that worried her the most was not having anyone around to help her—through the birth or the newborn stage. The part that was coming true in front of her eyes.

“You don’t need me,” Bo assured her, his hands on her shoulders as he stared her down in the most aggressively fond way. “If you need Holly, she’ll come back. You know that. And you have Brock, who is arguably the most important person you’re going to need.”

Annie huffed, childishly stomping her foot, “He’s going to be traded, too, so who the fuck knows.”

Bo sat her down on the bed, looking down at her as she imagined he did to Gunnar when he was getting a talking to. He told her, “If Brock does get traded, you’re not staying in Vancouver. You’ve told me all the plans you’ve got in case you have to move at the deadline.”

It was the truth, as difficult as she knew it would be. The contingencies had been in place almost since they found out, what with the trade rumours amping up with every passing day.

“If any old man in the league had any fucking decency maybe they would have traded him today when I’m six months pregnant and less fucking stressed.”

“Less stressed,” Bo laughed, throwing his head back. “Is that what you call this?”

Annie glared, her mouth pulling tight and her eyebrows doing the same. She stood, poked Bo in the chest and said, “I’m going to kick everybody’s ass between Vancouver and fucking Brooklyn. Including yours.”

Nobody had expected Annie’s baby bump to get quite so round. Holly had made a point of telling Annie that it wouldn’t get too big purely because Annie was small—in height and weight. Nobody she knew was making too many comments about it, but strangers passing on the street had no issue asking her when she was due because it must have been any moment. The looks on their faces when Annie said, through gritted teeth, that she was barely seven months along and they should mind their own business was only just enough to get her through.

Pregnancy had turned her into a stress eater, which may have been contributing to the unexpected size, and in the days leading up to the trade deadline she was eating more and more because she was trying to internalise her own stresses to avoid exacerbating Brock’s.

Up until four or five days before ethe deadline, it was impossible to separate Brock from his phone; every single buzz sent him reaching for it lightning fast only to be met with another, entirely unrelated trade, or somebody in his family’s group chat sending a cute photo. The idea of hiding his phone had tempted Annie more than once but she knew better than to add the stressing of missing anything to the mix.

Things died down in the final few days before the deadline, all the big trades were seemingly done and Brock had been promised that he was in Vancouver to stay; Annie didn’t trust those promises but they made Brock lighter and more carefree so she wouldn’t tell him what she thought.

The night before the deadline—the 2nd of March, on the back of a loss against Minnesota where not even his power play goal could take out the sting—Annie greeted Brock at the door.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” Brock said when he saw her, putting an end to the sneaking he’d been attempting.

“Slept all day in case you were up all night. Didn’t want you to be alone,” she said softly. She took his suit jacket from his arms and kissed him.

“You need sleep,” Brock argued as he wrapped her up and shuffled her out of the doorway. “You can’t stay up all night.”

“I can try.”

Brock’s smirk showed that he didn’t believe she could do it, so Annie settled on making him lie down with her in the hope that she could coax him into some rest.

He didn’t seem to be overly caught up in the deadline being so soon, happy to just lie beside her and stifle a laugh as she did her best to shuffle closer to him, inevitably neding some assistance to move the pillow that was supporting her bump but when the only thing between them was her stomach, she put her arm over his stomach and watched him with soft eyes as she started talking to him about their baby names shortlist.

Annie couldn’t say what time she fell asleep, or how long it took Brock to after her, but by the time they woke up Annie knew it was late. When she opened her eyes, unimpressed by the light that was filtering into the room from the poorly drawn blinds, Brock was smiling at her peacefully.

“What’s the time?” she asked, her voice hoarse and muffled by the pillow.

“Just before noon. I think I’m safe. We’re safe.”

A smile grew so large on Annie’s face that her cheeks started to hurt within seconds—somehow, through sheer willpower, she threw herself on top of Brock and started kissing his face. Brock’s arms tightened around her, keeping her secure on top of him, just letting the kisses happen.

“This means I win.”

“Win what?”

“Our baby is going to be so Canadian.”

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[mysterywheeze]

what a weekend, huh

I've refrained from using this blog to share my thoughts on the [gestures vaguely] situation for- well, for a few reasons. For one, I haven't been directly involved in the fandom for a while for personal reasons (I will reiterate that I am Mostly Fine). For two, until today we didn't have an official update on the matter. And for three, there's been A LOT of vitriol within the fanbase, so saying anything felt like stepping into a minefield.

Point three still stands. But what the hell? I've thrown my thoughts into worse rings.

My opinions on the whole fiasco can be summed up in four points.

ONE: Their initial plan was bad, and the way they announced it was even worse.

I don't think I have to explain why cutting off a large number of low-income and international fans is a shitty thing to do. That the initial treatment of Patreon fans was poor is, I think, similarly self-evident. And not just because we weren't initially given free access to the streaming platform; the abrupt cancellation of WW+ and early access screwed a lot of annual-membership patrons over.

We now have confirmation that Watcher needed a new revenue stream to stay operational, and that the team viewed this change as essentially a last resort to avoid layoffs or worse. We did not get this information in the "Goodbye YouTube" video. The Watcher team could have been upfront from the beginning, but they decided not to be. Instead they hyped up the announcement, even had a countdown, leading us to think that this was a sign of something good, when in reality it was a sign of something dire.

I hope we can all agree that more initial transparency would have significantly improved the audience reaction to the announcement.

TWO: The update/apology video was a good one.

They addressed why they made their decision, admitted to their fuck-up, and changed their plan. That's Owning Up To Your Mistakes 101. What we got was a compromise; they aren't scrapping the streaming service altogether, but they aren't abandoning fans who can't afford it altogether, either. And of course, they've told us that the streaming service is necessary for the survival of the company. Better late than never.

There's still a lot that they need to do before they can fully gain my trust. And I say gain, not regain, because this isn't the first time they've had a business fumble (NOTE: this is not about the HWYD incident). From Patreon rewards coming months late to factual errors in their educational shows, to what I strongly suspect is mismanagement of funds leading to their current financial troubles, they've always had flaws that ought to be addressed.

But it's a start. A good start at that.

THREE: Some fans reacted to the announcement (and to a lesser extent, to the update) in deeply inappropriate ways.

Look, I don't think you have to ~deeply adore~ Steven Lim to be a Watcher fan. I'll admit that, as a diehard Unsolved fan since 2017 who rarely watched Worth It before 2020, Steven's shows appealed to me less than Ryan and Shane's content did. The average viewcounts of Steven's shows compared to Ryan-n-Shane's shows indicates that my preferences are pretty common.

That being said, as someone who isn't particularly enthused about Steven content, I can appreciate the things he's done for Watcher and as a human being. He's always been the guy pushing hardest for Asian-American representation, as Grocery Run, Hidden Narratives, and especially his response to the 2021 tragedy in Atlanta, made very clear.

From years ago to just last week, he's said some poorly-worded and even insensitive things. He's a human. We're prone to doing that.

If you think that it's okay to insult him on a personal level over this weekend's fiasco, to drag up an old mistake he already publicly apologized for, or to make unfounded accusations about his moral character, you are solely mistaken and have some serious maturing to do. If you actually partook in any of those activities, I sincerely hope that you regret your actions and avoid repeating them. And if you're one of those people STILL trying to pin all the blame on Steven, or even calling for his resignation(?!?)... I don't know what to tell you. I really hope you become a kinder person soon.

This also goes for people who started getting personal with the other members of Team Watcher, or with their friends or loved ones outside the company. So what if Sara had an imperfect take? She's not responsible for Watcher's bad decision, and we shouldn't be dragging her into the discourse just because she's married to a guy who did a fuck-up.

And yeah, Shane did a fuck-up. It ain't cute to act like he's an innocent anti-capitalist baby being dragged into this mess by Steven. Same goes for people saying Ryan didn't play a part in this, but over the past few days I've seen way more support for Shane among conspiratorial fans than for Ryan. I'm not going to act like racial bias is the only factor at play here, clearly it's more complex than that, but making up conspiracies to protect your white fave while scapegoating the outspoken-against-racism Asian guy... it's not a good look. You have to realize that and evaluate your biases.

FOUR: The backlash to the backlash has become excessive and unhelpful.

I get it. When people are being dicks online, it's natural to speak out against it. And boy howdy, were some people being dicks this weekend. Emphasis on the some.

Yes, there's been a lot of mean-spirited, unconstructive hate sent Watcher's way over the past few days. There's also been an incredibly large volume of constructive criticism from all corners of the fandom. Some of it's been discussed between fans, some of it's been shared directly with Team Watcher. It doesn't stick in your mind as strongly as blatant hate does, but I can assure you, it's there.

And in the effort to defend Watcher against that hate, a lot of you have made it really hard for good-faith criticism to be heard.

Seriously, every time I see someone on the Wiscord politely criticize one of Watcher's decisions, they're immediately shut down by a fellow fan. Same thing happened to me in an unofficial fan server earlier today. My good-faith critique wasn't as important as the fact that some asshole could hypothetically make a similar argument in bad faith. Any attempt at a calm, reasoned discussion of Watcher's issues as a company gets drowned out with blind positivity.

Let me make my stance crystal clear: people are allowed to be upset about things that they aren't being forced at gunpoint to pay for. That's like, the the basis of media criticism. "You don't HAVE to pay for it so you shouldn't complain about it" is not an argument that should be taken seriously here on Al Gore's internet.

There's also been a lot of disingenuous use of the "don't you believe artists should get paid?" argument, because yes I do, and yes they have been getting paid. By thousands of people at once - far more supporters than most working artists receive in a lifetime. I personally have been supporting them financially since January of 2020, literally since day one. Watcher's situation evidently isn't ideal, but as far as independent creators go they're pretty darn privileged to have the following they have.

And if you think that Team Watcher has actually totally been doing the right thing all along, then you're wrong. The guys at Watcher themselves admitted that. If they really are the bastions of honesty you're convinced they are, you'll accept that. Above all, the changes they announced today are not proof that "the bullies won". If the bullies won, there would be no streaming service. What happened was a compromise, and the assholes in this fandom didn't want a compromise.

Look, I know you guys. I remember the old days, when we weren't afraid to provide feedback to Watcher when they fucked up, and over much smaller fumbles than this recent one. I know we've all put a lot of money and time into this company and the people behind it. The sunk-cost fallacy is a very powerful thing. But please don't let your hatred for bullies and love for the boys completely blind you to valid criticism. You can't entirely shield them from growing pains if what you want for them is real growth.

FIVE: This isn't a real point in the list I just had to separate my closing thoughts from the rest of the essay I accidentally wrote. Whoops.

The other day, I saw somebody (can't recall their handle, sorry) describe some fan reactions to Friday's announcement as "post-divorce honesty". It's far from the only comparison to a breakup I've seen. That phrase has been ringing in my head for a while now. Because this situation has made a lot of people reevaluate what they like about Watcher, why they became a fan in the first place, and if it's worth sticking around.

Watcher made a mistake. One that they could walk back but can't undo. Their reputation is never going to be the same as it was before. Likewise, a lot of fans said things that can't be taken back, and now that's tied to their reputation in our community. I can't blame anyone for feeling uneasy right now.

Hm. When I started writing this, I had an actual ending in mind. I don't know where that went.

Maybe that's the note I end this massive ramble on? Watcher's future is uncertain, the community's future is uncertain, so I'm uncertain about the last part of this post...? Agh. There's a reason why I'm more of a fiction writer than an essayist. It's getting late, I've got stuff to do tomorrow, and my browser's beginning to slow down from the sheer weight of my draft being open for so long.

Just... try to take it easy on each other, okay? It's been a hell of a week, and we haven't even finished Monday yet.

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

Something's wrong with Akai.

Now, one might be inclined to think that is just his natural state of being, and for good reason. The thing is: it's too early. The joint operation is in three days; Akai's not supposed to look like death already. Dark circles under his eyes are part for the course, and Rei's pretty sure in the event of a significant traumatic injury one could subsitute Akai's blood with coffee. But that stare is even more dead-eyed than usual, and Rei can make out the faint nervous twitching of Akai's trigger finger. He might as well have written his condition on a sign and stapled it to his brows.

It's distracting as all hell, and Rei's itching to grab Akai's hand and pin it to the table to finally stop it from moving. If the sniper causes more problems for their mission because he's not paying attention during the debrief, Rei is never going to forgive him. There's too much at stake. So Rei kicks his shin, deftly, when Akai threatens to fall asleep at their desk. Focuses back on the meeting. He can pull himself together, and he expects nothing less from Akai.

.

When the meeting is finally over, a grueling three hours later, he drags Akai out of the room by the cuff of his sleeve. Kudo shoots them a pitying glance, and Agent Starling is clearly trying to intercept their impending argument, bless her, before she gets held up by chatty colleagues. Suits him just fine.

He locks the door to his office behind them, lets down the shutters. This is as much privacy as they're likely to get. The bag with the gift he meant to give Akai sits forgotten next to his desk.

"What is this supposed to be?", he hisses at the sniper. Akai just tilts his head in question, lounging against the wall as if he owns the place. "You look like your own ghost."

"Ah. I was kidnapped", Akai supplies nonchalantly. He might as well have poured a bucket of ice water over Rei's head. Rei freezes, casually assaulted by a spike of fear - for the sniper, for himself. Akai's not even close to easy prey, he would know, and if they have an enemy capable of taking him out...fuck, he didn't even say anything. Rei's getting a little nauseous. The adrenaline hits, quickly ripping him out of his stupor, and blessed anger takes over. Sure, Akai seems mostly fine now, but he wasn't, and Rei didn't know a thing. No contact at all, no asking for help, no nothing. No sense of self-preservation in this asshole.

Without warning, he shoves Akai against the wall, grabs him by his sweater's collar. The sniper blinks at him. "How can you just-" walk it off? Be this calm? He doesn't even know how to finish his own thought. Rei's head is spinning. The last two weeks have been stressful already, and this is too much. There's too many questions, the how and why and when and where, but the one that escapes is: "Who did that to you?" Are they dead, he thinks, but doesn't say.

Not for the first time it looks as though those green green eyes stare right into his soul. They're too close, too bright, he'll drown if he's not careful-

And then they close, and Akai's laughing. Quietly, but Rei's so close he can feel the waves of it run through the other. Typical. Here he is, worried, and Akai's laughing at him. Rei's cheeks heat up, he's about to deck the sniper in his pretty face when Akai raises his hands placatingly. Manages, through bouts of quiet laughter: "Masumi."

Rei's spiraling thoughts grind to an abrupt halt. "What."

"My little sister?"

"I know who she is! That's not what I was asking and you know that!" Bastard.

"It was her eighteenth birthday this weekend. We celebrated."

Rei feels like he's just been sucker-punched. Are they dead, echoes in his thoughts, again. What the hell was that? He's used to anger, it's the constant companion that keeps him going, but that was simply out of proportion. Maybe the stress did get to him after all. Shit. His heart is still working double time, distributing excess adrenaline through his body. What the hell is wrong with him? No. What the hell is wrong with Akai?

Rei's fist meets the sniper's chest, unfortunately not forceful enough to cause actual damage. "Asshole. Start with that part!"

Akai's still smiling, though it's unclear whether it is at the memory or at Rei. Now that the cocktail of fear and fury and confusion is burning like acid in his stomach, Rei finds a bit of comfort in it. Crow's feet look good on Shuichi, way better than the fatigue that was etched into his face all day (though for the sake of his safety, Rei would suggest not laughing at him again anytime soon). Neither of them smile enough, not genuinely.

Rei takes in deep breaths, holding and counting, to steady himself. He's still too close - the scent that assaults him should be nauseating, but contrary to everything else in the last couple of minutes it really isn't. It's quintessentially Akai - lingering tobacco and faded-out cologne and a faint hint of coffee. He's shaken and shaking, but Shuichi is warm and steady as always, and so he closes his eyes and leans against the other, just for a moment, just for a little bit of rest. Akai goes very still next to him, his laughter fading.

"Did it have to be now?", Rei murmurs after a while, more into the sweater he's pressed his face into than the room. "Surely your family knows that this next job will be dangerous."

"They do." There's gravitas in Akai's voice, and he doesn't need to elaborate further - they both know there is a non-zero chance they don't make it out of the coming fight, even if they're careful. Akai's family works with the MI6, international collaborators for this mission; they must be aware, too. Rei fists the sweater a little tighter. Shuichi shifts, and then there's warmth all around him, pinning him in place like a butterfly.

"I wanted to be there, at least once." It's a confession, quiet in the small space they share. It speaks of selfishness, of finality, of regret for all the opportunities Shuichi has missed. Rei is all too familiar with these sentiments. He wants a lot of things, but that has never mattered, not really. His life is one of discipline and sacrifice, of all the things he ever wanted immolated on the altar of the greater good. And he gives it all, willingly, but still... Even if it was stupid, selfish, and left Akai drained, Rei is glad he still has wishes that can be fulfilled. He's not sure he could say the same about himself.

He takes a deep breath, trying to pull himself back together, and then breaks away from Akai. It's too easy, and unpleasantly colder.

The sniper's eyes are already trained on him when he dares to meet them. "Your folly can't cost us, so you better make sure to catch up on sleep." Akai raises an eyebrow, a tinge of amusement to his lips. "Hello pot." Rei's half-hearted glare isn't enough to chase the amusement from Akai's features. Fine. Maybe he has a point, but Rei sure as hell isn't going to concede it.

"Don't give me that attitude, or you can walk home. And hand over your sweater."

"That's not the one you requested-"

Lying comes as easily as breathing. "Yes, it is."

Akai looks like he wants to argue, just for the sake of it, but eventually smiles and strips out of it, tossing it at Rei (who very carefully doesn't look at how Akai's shirt rides up a bit, revealing pale skin in the process). "Thank you." Rei folds it carefully, drapes it primly over his arm.

"Alright, take that" - he points to the gift bag on the floor "and get in the car." Akai does as he's told, but can't seem to help himself, needs to get in one last jab before they leave. "Are you sure you should be driving?" As if he hasn't driven in worse conditions. Rei just grins and hightails it out of there, exactly on the verge of the speed limit.

Whatever's wrong with Akai, it might be wrong with Rei, too.

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Sweater weather AU masterpost