#and the entire time he’s muttering to himself trying to convince himself it couldn’t have been him there’s no way

[atrium-hq]

ranboo :)

[ichorai]

dlz ; jake lockley.

track ten of DEAR SCIENCE.

pairing ; jake lockley x gn!reader

synopsis ; jake lockley wasn't your husband. steven and marc were. jake was just... he was just there. a ghost living in your house.

words ; 3.5k

themes ; angst, mild fluff, married au

warnings / includes ; suggestive, implications of sex, jake is a rough kisser e_e, mentions of injury/blood, mild cursing, marc and steven both have appearances, jake is emotionally constipated, jake calls reader peach !! reader is a sweetheart <3

main masterlist.

Jake Lockley didn’t like your perfume—it was almost nauseatingly fresh and its smell permeated through his own clothes so that he’d often walk out smelling like he had doused himself in Febreze. 

He didn’t like the way you’d hum to his favorite songs while doing the dishes. Nirvana, Elliott Smith, Radiohead—were you singing them on purpose just to annoy him? Nearly every night, he could hear your faint voice drift into the living room, where he was reading the same three sentences of the daily paper over and over and over again because he couldn’t concentrate on anything but your endearingly inconsistent mutters to the music.

He especially hated when you’d walk out of the bedroom in nothing but Steven’s shirt loosely draped over your form, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from your heavy-lidded eyes. There was just something about seeing you at your most vulnerable. You were comfortable around him, and that made Jake uneasy.

When Jake fronted, he slept in the guest room. Marc had convinced him not to blow more money staying at a hotel—and Steven was trying to persuade him to at least sleep in the same bed as you. After all, they were married to you. 

But Jake wasn’t your husband. Steven and Marc were. Jake was just… he was just there. A ghost living in your house.

The very thought of sharing a bed with you made a chill dance down Jake’s spine. He could never. As appealing as the thought of having you slotted between his arms, sleepily recounting how your day went to him, sounded, he couldn’t ever have that. Jake Lockley wasn’t a domestic man.

His hands would always be dripping with blood that wasn’t his, no matter how hard he tried scrubbing it away.

There were times Jake felt a morsel of regret. He was nowhere near nice to you, and yet you still spared him that infuriatingly patient, sweet smile, always telling him to stay safe before he left to drive his cab around (or do Khonshu’s dirty work), and never failing to whisper good night before slipping into your bedroom. 

Sometimes he had a queer, niggling feeling scratching at the pits of his stomach one would commonly refer to as jealousy. He knew that Marc and Steven got to hold you, kiss you, tell you they loved you as they pleased. 

Jake couldn’t do that. Jake wasn’t even entirely sure he was capable of loving someone. 

What made it even worse was that Jake learned about you through them—not because he ever actually tried to get closer to you.

He knew you loved apricots, but not as much as peaches. He knew you loved lighting scented candles whenever it rained. He knew you named each one of your house plants. He knew you were only slightly ticklish. He knew you had a tell; your nose would twitch and your eyebrows would quirk upwards whenever you lied. He knew from Steven to kiss just above your pulse point against the column of your throat to make you melt into him. He knew you had a birthmark between your thighs from when Marc—

Yeah, he’d rather not think about that one.

Jake knew you cried a lot—that one he learned on his own. He could hear you through the walls, but you probably weren’t aware of that fact. 

One night, Jake sat in the living room, staring into nothing, heart twisting angrily at himself until he couldn’t take it anymore, storming out of the apartment after shoving his hat onto his head and grabbing his cab’s keys. Steven and Marc had yelled angrily at him the whole time, but he learned to block their voices out. 

He wasn’t very good in the emotional department, that was abundantly clear.

When he came back home hours later, having driven around the city several times to clear his head, he tried to be as quiet as possible. At an hour as late as this, you were bound to be asleep, right?

But alas, there you were, curled into the corner of the couch, head uncomfortably lolled onto your shoulder. The house was entirely dark save for the dim glow of the television, casting a blue luminescence over your dozing form. Long shadows kissed the slopes of your features, softened with sleep. He noticed that there were tear tracks faintly outlined over the skin of your cheekbones.

Jake froze at the doorway for a moment. Were you waiting for him to come home?

He pushed down any and all intrusive thoughts, begrudgingly shrugging off his coat and hanging up his hat. A calloused palm carded through messy, coffee-hued curls. 

Heart dipping heavy within his chest, Jake stalked forward to turn the TV off, setting the remote down on the coffee table. He stood over you for a moment. A frown twisted at the corner of his lips, drawing his brows together.

Jaw clenching, Jake stepped away from you, slipping into the hall. He leaned against the door to the guest room for a moment, huffing out a low groan. Gods, what in the hell was he doing?

After another minute of frustrated hesitation, Jake willed himself to make his way back into the living room. You were twitching in your sleep, eyelids fluttering with what he could guess were the beginnings of a harsh nightmare. 

Gently—or, as gentle as a highly-skilled mercenary could be—Jake hooked an arm beneath the crook of your knee, the other looping over your shoulders and neck. When you stirred, Jake could only quietly make hushing noises, wincing at himself. Thankfully, you didn’t fully awaken, a soft noise falling from your lips as your nose turned to press against the fabric of his shirt obscuring his chest, just above where his heart scratched at the walls of his ribcage.

He kicked the door to your bedroom open none too silently, eager to set you down. Get as far away from you as possible. The sound of the doorknob thwacking against the wall behind it made your lids shoot open, and you groggily mumbled incoherent phrases under your breath before peering up at him with confused, watery eyes. He cursed internally.

“You’re back,” you said, voice hoarse with disuse. “You okay?”

There were lots of things Jake wanted to say to you at that moment.

No, I’m not okay. Were you waiting for me to get home? I’m sorry if I made you worry. I’m sorry I’m such an asshole. Am I an asshole? You shouldn’t ever wait for me again. What were you dreaming of? Was it a nightmare about me?

Instead of any of that, Jake merely set you down onto the mattress with a grunt, dusting his hands onto his pants. He glared down at you as if he was angry—and he was, but not necessarily at you. 

But wasn’t he, though? He was angry that you were just so… so kind to him. He was angry that you were patient. He was angry that you were so easy to love. 

“Go to sleep, peach,” he gruffed. A hot flush coursed over his face at the nickname that had unintentionally slipped out. To his relief, you didn’t seem to notice.

Your sleepy expression seemed to cave in on itself and you dazedly nodded, head falling back into the pillow. 

If only he could slip in beside you, entangle his legs with yours as you kissed softly over his tense face, call you his.

Jake nearly slapped himself to get his head screwed on straight. He spared your already-sleeping form one last glance before trudging out of your room. Hurriedly, he threw himself into the guestroom, ripping off his shirt and pressing a palm flat against his chest to quell the racing thunder of his heart.

You were not good news for him. 

You didn’t see Jake for weeks after that incident. 

A part of you was glad—you were beginning to miss the sound of Steven’s sweet voice, his tender touches, his passionate kisses. You missed Marc’s back hugs, his strange fixation with your bare legs, his lopsided smiles.

The other part of you, however, wondered about Jake.

“Does Jake ever… say anything to the two of you?” you asked Steven one day, stirring sugar into your steaming tea as you leaned against the kitchen counter. Your husband looked up from the novel he was reading, pushing his glasses up his nose while considering your question. 

“Sometimes. Mostly stays to himself—quite the quiet bloke, innhe? Why, love?”

Your bottom lip trembled as you glared into your tea, as if it was the source of all your troubles. Steven was immediately out of his seat, tugging you close until your forehead rested upon his clavicle bone. You sniffled into him, crushing your eyes shut with shame. 

“Does he hate me?” you asked, voice cracking. “I don’t… I don’t know what I did to make him—”

Steven immediately held you all the closer, crooning out, “No! No, of course not, silly. He’s just… he’s just having trouble with himself, that’s all. Doesn’t really talk to us much, either. It’s not you, love, I promise. In fact, I’m nearly certain he fancies you.”

“You’re not just saying that?” you said, scrutinizing him with wide, glassy eyes. “I don’t need him to love me like you and Marc do. I just… it’s hard when it feels like a man with the same face as your husband hates you.”

Steven’s expression crumbled, and he kissed over your left eyelid softly. “I know. I’m sorry, darling, I can’t imagine what that’s like.” Rubbing soothing circles over your back, he urged you to take a seat next to him, leaning over to move your mug of tea from the counter to the kitchen table. “Come on, I’ve got an amazing poem I want you to read.”

It was only two days later that you saw Jake again. You strode through the door, juggling grocery bags in one hand and a stack of books you borrowed from the library in the other. With a huff, you set the groceries down in the kitchen, turning around to see Jake quietly observing you, leaning against the fridge. You bit down a startled scream, flinching at his unexpected presence. 

“Oh,” you said after a second of flustered silence. “Hi, Jake. Didn’t see you there.”

He was observing you with such a sharp gaze that it felt like his irises were cutting straight through your flesh. Finally, he pushed away from the fridge, slowly moving towards you until he stood just in front of you, about an arm’s length away.

“Jake, what are you—?”

“I don’t hate you, peach,” the man said, all gravelly and brusque.

It took you a moment to fully register what he was saying. “Oh,” was all you said, parroting yourself from five seconds ago in a rather poignant manner. “Well… I don’t hate you, either, Jake. Far from that.”

You could see the struggle in the dark depths of his irises. Turmoil raged behind those narrowed lids, and you couldn’t bring it in yourself to look away, not even if you tried. 

Feeling bold, you shuffled forward to slowly raise your hands, cupping Jake’s face within your palms. His glare seemed to harden at first, always so angry at things for not going the way he expected it to go, muscles tensing beneath your touch—but when your fingers gently scraped over his stubble, he could feel himself letting go, practically liquefying into you.

“Why are you like this, Jake Lockley?” you murmured, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones. The action made his eyelids flutter shut. He’d never let himself be this vulnerable in front of you before. He wasn’t prepared for his walls to come crashing down around him so quickly—so easily. “Did I do something to upset you?”

All previous inhibitions thrown out the window, Jake grumbled out a small, “Yeah. All the fuckin’ time, peach.”

You quirked a brow. “Go on, then.”

One of his eyes opened before sliding closed again. “Where do I start? You smell too good—I can never concentrate around you. You’re always singing my favorite songs and it’s buggin’ the hell outta me. You’re always so nice to me—even though you know I’m not like your precious Steven and Marc.”

Something akin to a guffaw fell from your lips. “Well, first of all, thank you? Somehow you managed to compliment me in the rudest way possible, and I commend you for that. Second, I know you’re not like Steven and Marc. But I still love you all the same.”

The kitchen grew so quiet, Jake could’ve sworn he’d be able to hear a pin drop.

His heart began tripping over its own gallop of a pace. You’d said it so easily, so swiftly, as if loving him came as naturally as breathing. 

Jake found his eyes falling to your mouth, slightly puckered to the side in thought. 

Noticing his sudden change in demeanor, you started saying, “Jake—?”

“Can I kiss you?” he interrupted, glowering at you with a newfound fire crackling behind his eyes. 

You blinked once, then twice. Then you nodded.

A small sigh of content that made Jake far too excited for his own good escaped your lungs as he dove forward and melded his lips with yours, dipping you backward ever so slightly in the midst of his vigor. 

He kissed differently than Steven or Marc did. Steven was languid, careful, and tender whilst Marc was feverish, calculated, and explorative.

Jake Lockley, however, kissed like a mad man. He was all tongue and teeth, desperately furious with his motions, kissing you as if it was the very last time he’d have the chance to do so. His nose slotted against yours, brushing against your cheek as you caved into him, arms winding over his neck to pull him ever so close. 

His fingers immediately clutched at your waist, one moving upwards beneath your (Marc’s) shirt to lightly scratch over the skin of your ribcage and the other shifting lower to tug over the back of your thigh. 

Gods, you just felt so right. 

“Mmh, peach,” Jake growled into your skin as he traversed down your neck, biting at the spot just above your pulse point, which made a low, desperate noise scratch at the back of your throat. He’d do anything to hear that noise over and over again.

“Why do you call me that?” you panted out, fingers threading through his haphazard curls to haul him away from your neck and back onto your lips. 

“You like peaches,” he breathed into you, a groan of agony rumbling from his chest when you nipped at his bottom lip with a hum of approval. “Don’t you?”

A choked sound was all you could let out when he shoved you none-too-gently against the counter, bending over to accommodate for his eager lips over yours.

“I love them,” you whispered once he parted away to catch his breath. 

There it was again. The L word. 

Fuck, he couldn’t do this.

Suddenly, as if snapped back into reality, Jake halted any and all ministrations, nose only a hair's breadth away from your neck. You smelled so damn good, so tantalizingly tempting, lips raw-bitten and skin flushed with heat.

But Jake couldn’t. You didn’t belong with a person like him. With Steven? Yeah, of course. With Marc? The idiot loved you too much to ever let you go, even if he tried to. 

Jake would bring you nothing but pain and misery and the thinly-veiled threat of danger. 

“This is a mistake,” he said, voice rough with tremendous restraint.

He thought that if he kissed you, all these stupid feelings would wash down the drain, as if you’d be able to suck it all out of him like a goddamn love vacuum. But, no, it was as if just having a taste wasn’t enough. He needed the rest of you. He needed all of you.

But he couldn’t.

“Jake…” Your voice was quiet, breaking off slightly when he let go of you, stepping back while glaring a hole into the ground. 

With the maturity equivalent to that of a prepubescent teenager, Jake stormed out of the kitchen and into the hall, slamming the guest room door behind him so hard that the picture frames of you and Steven and Marc on the walls rattled. 

A week passed by until you saw Jake again.

You were in bed with Marc, shivering as he ran his palms down your waist, swatting his hands away while gritting out, “That tickles, Marc!”

He hummed noncommittally, pressing kisses down your shoulder, nosing your cheek affectionately. 

“Tell me about this one,” he whispered into you, taking your hand to trace a thin scar over the inside of your wrist.

“I was seven,” you whispered. “This boy pushed me off a swing in the playground. I threw my hands out and a rock got me bad—fractured my wrist, too. I don’t remember much, but I remember there was a lot of blood. I’m pretty sure the poor kid was the one that ran screaming for a teacher to come help.”

Marc regarded you with a look of pure adoration, thinly laced with amusement. “Did you really just call the bastard who pushed you a ‘poor kid’?”

You barked out a laugh and he pressed a lasting kiss over your faded scar.

“Alright, your turn. Tell me about this,” you playfully pressed your thumb between his brows. “You got a little divot here. Been furrowing your eyebrows too much, huh? And you wonder why I call you the grumpy eagle muppet.” When he rolled his eyes, you chuckled out, “What? Listen, it’s not my fault Khonshu got rid of all your scars! I gotta work with what I’m given, here!”

“That’s enough out of you,” Marc bit out, though you could tell he wasn’t really being serious with the smile that pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Okay, turn around. Sleep time, baby. Love you.”

You hummed in mild contentment, turning around so your back molded perfectly against his chest. “Love you, too, Marc.”

The rise and fall of his chest was deep, rhythmic, so calming that you were just on the brink of sleep—

Until it stopped.

You could feel the body wrapped behind you stiffen. Immediately, you knew this was Jake.

With a lump lodged in your throat, you hesitantly turned around, only to be met with Jake staring back at you, wide-eyed. It was dark, so you could just barely make out the upset tautness of his features.

Jerkily, he started moving to clamber off the bed, all but shaking you off of him like you were a pesky insect.

No. No, you wouldn’t stand for this.

“Jake,” you said firmly, reaching out to wrap your hand around his wrist. “Stay. Please.”

Mute, the man shook his head, legs slipping out from beneath the blanket. 

Desperate, you sat up, wrapping your arms around his midriff and pressing your cheek into his back as you said, “You deserve love, Jake. You deserve my love. Please, stay.”

For a moment, you wondered if he’d just push you off again. Disappear into that guestroom you were too scared to venture into when he left for work. Just when you were on the near precipice of relinquishing any and all hope, you could feel Jake’s shoulders sag. His head hung low as he sighed.

Wordless, he shifted around and you let go of him so he could slip back under the covers. 

Tentative, you laid down next to him, shifting so your head could rest over his chest. His arm jostled around to rest comfortably beneath your neck. 

Jake held you differently from Marc and Steven.

Jake held you as if he was afraid you’d break apart. Jake held you like he had to be ready to let you go at any moment. Jake held you like he was afraid to show you just how much he loved you.

You craned your neck upwards to press a light kiss to his stubbled jaw, then settled back down.

You heard Jake sigh, but this time, it was one of pure relief—utter bliss. It was quiet, but it was there.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered finally, nose tucked into your hair. “I’ll try to be better with you. I’ll try, peach.”

Nodding minutely, you intertwined your hand with his free one, playing absentmindedly with his fingers. “I know.”

Just before your breaths evened with sleep, Jake could only barely hear you drowsily mumble out, “I love you, Lockley.”

He knew you were already asleep, which made the feat of saying it back somewhat easier for him.

“Love you, too, peach.”

[callsign-rogueone]

alone with you - l.m.

Liam Mairi x reader part two of Liam and Spark's story. words: 3.0k 🏷: Fourth Wing spoilers (spark knows things that Violet doesn't lmao), sparring and a tiny bit of blood, reader gets injured but not to worry, someone takes care of you. no pronouns used for reader but Liam does call you a girl. Tuile being a bitch (wbk) and perhaps some answers about what happened in spark's first year at basgiath... I'm still not good at writing fight scenes, sorry lol

Another year, another round of challenges. Another opportunity to show the entire quadrant that you’re not here to fuck around, nor to make friends.

You loosen your muscles as Emeterrio discusses the rules of engagement, cracking your neck and stretching out your arms, taking mental inventory of all the weapons on your body -- even though it’s frowned upon to use them in these fights, you keep the array of knives at the ready.

“I see the general’s girl has survived the week,” Tuile muses. “I’m almost impressed.”

You cast a glance across the room, seeing her standing next to the cadet who was in front of her in line for Parapet, the one she’d traded boots with.

“It’s only a matter of time,” you mutter back. 

Even though Xaden had convinced the two dozen of you to leave her alone, it’s likely that somebody else is going to see how fragile she is and walk right up and snap her in two, to thin the herd -- not that she has a real chance of making it to threshing anyway, not without some divine intervention.

But she’s a perfect little Navarrian citizen, so she must pray to their gods every night before bed. Maybe they’ll help her, because you sure as hell won’t; you have a reputation to maintain, and there’s no rational explanation you could give her for why you would want to help her at all, not without jeopardizing the entire revolution -- she might not take after her traitorous older brother, who as far as she and everyone else in this death trap of a college is aware, is dead.

She seems to notice you watching her, locking eyes with you for a split second and quickly averting her gaze. She’s afraid of you and all of your friends, unaware that your respect for Brennan is what’s keeping her alive right now.

Fear is a requirement for survival here. Maybe she’ll make it longer than you’d thought.

It’s not a surprise to you at all that your name is called first, nor that you’re matched with the largest cadet in the class. It became clear to you last year that the professors aren’t making these assignments randomly. It couldn’t be a coincidence that they keep pairing you with the best fighters -- but never with another marked one, even though you’re all at the top of the class.

No, they’re probably entertained by all of this, betting on you like racehorses or wild dogs, placing wagers on who would come out on top. If anyone’s putting money on you, you’ve made them a killing -- you’re undefeated. 

But that would require someone else to bet against you, and while you may not respect all of the professors and leadership, or any of them, really, you don’t think they’re dumb enough to throw their money away like that.

“We meet again,” he says with a sick grin that makes the scar below his eye stretch and contort.

You don’t respond, taking one last survey of the seven blades on your body, but you’re not dumb enough to touch them, lest he see where they are and try to take them himself, like he did earlier this year.

He’d wrapped his fingers around the wooden hilt of the blade that Liam had given you before you left for Basgiath, intent on putting it through your heart, and you’d seen red.

“You should have taken his eye out.”

“I gave him that scar as a warning,” you reply evenly. “It’s up to him if he’s going to heed it or not.”

You’re at it as soon as Emeterrio says go, taking turns lunging at each other and blocking attacks.

You’re evenly matched, despite the size he has on you. He may be stronger, more intimidating, but you’re faster, and you know what you’re doing. You know where to hit and when, your strikes much more precise than his.

Still, Liam’s heart races.

It was one thing watching you mess around with Bodhi in the courtyard, but it’s another thing entirely seeing you fight as if your life depends on it -- and it does. There’s a very real possibility that one of you is going to be spending the evening in the infirmary, or the morgue, after this ends. 

You fight like Xaden, like himself and Bodhi and Imogen and everyone else his brother had a hand in training, but with an edge he’s never seen from you before.

He hesitates to put a name to it, but there’s something in your eyes akin to a wild animal’s as the pair of you stalk circles around each other, planning your next attack.

“It’s not polite to play with your food,” Tuile chides.

Fine. You’ll finish this, if only so she’ll shut up and leave you alone.

The other cadet has the same idea. 

You charge at the same time as he hurls a dagger in your direction, and you hit the ground at the last second to avoid being skewered. You start to press up to your feet, but he stomps a boot into your back, pain ripping down your spine. You swallow a scream, digging your nails into the sticky foam beneath you.

The mental wall separating you from Tuile crumbles, that familiar white-hot anger flowing through you. “Do something.”

You unsheath a dagger, reaching up and swiping it across his calf, and he hisses in pain, releasing you and taking a stumbling step back.

It’s easy enough for you to knock him off balance, landing three consecutive blows to his ribs and a swift kick to his stomach that sends him to the floor.

You’re tired of this already. It’s lost its novelty, and you really need to sit down -- there’s black spots clouding your vision, and the pain in your back has gotten impossibly worse.

“Do I have to kill you in front of the kids, or do you yield?” 

“I yield,” he rasps, still clutching his leg.

You lean down, wiping each side of the blade on his shirt before you sheath it.

“Sloppy, but satisfactory,” Tuile comments — that’s high praise from her. Maybe she’ll give you the evening off from her snide remarks.

You slot yourself between Liam and Bodhi, leaning against the wall as casually as you can; every movement has pain spreading across your lower back and shooting down your spine. 

You try to focus on rebuilding the wall she’d knocked down, brick by brick, taking deep breaths and forcing the anger out of your body.

Liam reaches for you, looking worried.

You speak under your breath, not moving your lips. “Not here. Not in front of everyone.” 

He pulls back without protest, understanding why you don’t want him helping you where the rest of the quadrant can see you, don’t want them to see the look of concern on his face and his hand on your arm and identify him as your weakness.

You may very well be the most hated person in the quadrant, being marked, bonded to one of Navarre’s nastiest dragons, and unafraid to draw blood in challenges. There are several cadets in this room who wouldn’t hesitate to go after Liam if they thought it would hurt you -- and it would. 

You don’t care what they do to you, what pain they inflict or what scars they leave on your body, but if anyone so much as touches Liam, they’ll lose the use of their hands. 

You breathe through the pain and keep your eyes on the fights unfolding in front of you; making note of who favors what side of their body, who gets sloppy after more than a minute, who yields because they don’t have the stomach to take things further.

Most of the cadets think this is the one class you don’t have to study for, but they’d be wrong -- there’s a reason you always come out on top, and this is it.

The class ends without Liam’s name being called, which is a relief, even though you don’t doubt his skill on the mat — it’s off the mat that you’re worried about. 

Almost everyone heads straight to dinner, but Liam hangs back, getting your attention with a barely-there touch to your elbow. You look over at him, and he nods in the other direction, toward the dorms. 

Of course he’s going to insist on checking your injuries himself, as he always did in the years you trained with him and Xaden. He doesn’t seem to think anything has changed between you in the year you’ve been away.

Sooner or later, he’ll realize he’s wrong.

You wait for nearly everyone to be out of the gym before you leave, leading him up to the second floor in silence and unlocking your door with a wave of your hand, gesturing him inside -- thankfully there’s nobody in the hallway to see you.

You haven’t been alone with him in a full year. A year and two weeks, if you want to be precise. The day you’d said goodbye, and nothing else.

You busy yourself with digging through your desk drawer to find the nearly-empty tin of healing balm, handing it to him before you turn away, gritting your teeth as you pull the shirt up over your head. 

If you weren’t pouring every ounce of energy you have left into keeping yourself upright, you might have it in you to be embarrassed about the amount of skin you’re exposing to him, the history of your first year at Basgiath on full display. But it’s Liam. Liam isn’t going to judge you, isn’t going to pry; he’ll just keep giving you that soft, concerned look -- which is somehow almost worse.

There’s a moment of quiet as he takes it in; the dark blue, nearly-black silhouette of Tuile that spans your shoulder blades and continues down your back, disappearing into the layers of thick linen wrapped over your chest, the full extent of your rebellion relic, winding down your arm to your wrist… 

Then he sees it, the nasty bruise starting to form on your back, below the hem of your bindings. The other cadet had hit you square in the spine, a blow that could very well have been paralyzing had it been delivered at a slightly different angle with slightly more force. That’s probably what he’d intended.

Liam isn’t particularly religious -- none of you are, which was a major reason why your parents had wanted to secede from Navarre -- but he still sends up a silent thank you to the powers that be that you’re okay, standing in front of him mostly unharmed.

You grit your teeth, keeping your eyes shut and gripping the shirt tightly as Liam’s hand rubs over your back, working in the healing balm. 

There’s something about the feeling of his skin on yours that is more uncomfortable than the aching bruise or any of the other injuries you’d sustained in that fight. 

You can handle the brush of your hands, a touch through layers of clothing and armor, eye contact and whispered words and smiles — all things that are acceptable behavior between friends — but the tenderness of this whole thing is overwhelming; being alone with Liam in your room, his bookbag on the floor, standing behind you rubbing a hand over your back, the other on your waist to hold you steady because you’re fucking trembling.

Maybe you are a little embarrassed after all.

The skin feels warm and tingly, a sign that whatever healing herbs within the sticky paste are working, soothing the aching muscle. Your entire body feels warm. It’s unbearably hot in this room, but Liam doesn’t seem to mind, still dressed in his flight jacket and full uniform. 

He moves his attention from your back to your side, murmuring a soft apology when you startle at the feeling of his hand smoothing over your ribs.

You take a breath, letting him work more of the balm into the spot where the other cadet’s fist had landed.

He finally pulls back, letting his hand linger on your waist until he’s convinced you won’t fall over. “Anything else hurting?” he asks gently.

“My head,” you admit to the wall. “But that never goes away.”

You pull the shirt back on as quickly as you can, done feeling exposed, and fight to maintain an unaffected expression as you turn back to face him.

He looks at you for a few seconds before it dawns on him -- the persistent headache, the flatness of your skin and your constantly racing heart, the way you’re bracing yourself with a hand on the desk, how tired you look and feel… “Spark, when was the last time you had water? Or anything to drink at all?”

Liam has always been too observant for his own good. 

You take a moment to think about it, another definite indicator that something is wrong. “Yesterday,” you answer quietly. “At dinner.” 

His eyes widen almost imperceptibly. It’s been a full twenty-four hours -- you’re supposed to be at dinner right now. It’s a miracle that you hadn’t passed out on the mat this afternoon.

He doesn’t scold you, doesn’t tell you how bad that is; he just squeezes your hand gently, taking the water bottle out of his bag and uncapping it. He can see you hesitating, knows something is wrong --  it takes a lot to rattle you, but you’re looking at the thing like it’s going to bite you.

“Three sips?” he asks softly.

That seems doable.

You take the bottle from him, holding it for a moment, feeling the weight of the metal and the energy flowing through the water inside it. It’s clean, calm, not murky and angry like the river water that Carr had made you practice with last year, but that doesn’t matter; in your hands, it’s the most dangerous substance on the planet.

And as fate would have it, it’s necessary for your survival.

You’re just grateful Tuile is off doing gods-know-what and not making her usual smug commentary -- she’d left after you’d won that challenge match, but she’ll be back soon enough. 

You raise it to your lips and drink, wanting to get it over with. The water is cool and crisp, breathing life back into your mouth and soothing your throat as you swallow, your body singing in relief as you give it what it’s been deprived of for months now. 

You take a moment to breathe, comforted by the air that continues to flow into your lungs and back out. Liam is standing in front of you. You’re okay. Two more. You can do this.

You bring it back up for another sip. You hadn’t realized how much you needed this, how much better it would make you feel. You take the next one in quick succession — that’s three. You’re done. 

You hate to admit it, but you feel better already.

Liam is still watching you with that soft, worried expression, though it’s less severe now than it had been earlier. You can see the gears turning, knowing he’s wondering why this was such a big deal for you; but there’s no judgment there, just genuine concern for your well-being.

You decide to tell him the truth, or part of it.

“I almost drowned when I channeled for the first time,” you say quietly, gazing back down at the half-empty bottle. “It was fucking terrifying. I couldn’t shower alone for a week. I needed one of the girls to come into the bathroom with me and face the wall, just talking to me the whole time. Then we realized Bo can counter signets. He’s been helping me control it, but…”

So that’s what Xaden had meant when he said that Bodhi was helping you deal with things. He wonders if there’s anything else his brother hadn’t told him, anything you aren’t telling him, but he won’t demand an answer from you -- he knows how difficult it must have been for you to tell him what you did, and he won’t push you further.

He takes the bottle back and caps it, gathering you into his arms silently, the way he’d wanted to back in the gym. He’s careful not to put any pressure on the injury, keeping his hands well above the bruise -- one between your shoulder blades and one on your ribs, on the side that you hadn’t been hit.

You rest your head on his shoulder, speaking in a whisper. “Thank you, Li.”

His lips brush over your hairline, where the ache is the worst. “Of course, sweet girl.”

You don’t want to let go of him yet, but you’ve already been holding each other longer than is appropriate for friends -- and that’s all you are, for the time being. 

He finally pulls away, and you could nearly cry at the loss of contact. 

“I need a minute,” you manage. “You should head down.”

You’re reminded again of why you love him so much as he nods in understanding, shouldering his bag and giving you a soft smile before he heads out your door.

All good things must come to an end. 

“Sweet? He must not know you at all.” 

“He knows me better than you ever will,” you snap back. 

At least she waited for him to leave, for you to be done with the water, or you would have some serious explaining to do.

You build up the wall again before she replies, and though it isn’t strong enough to block her out completely, she doesn’t push against it or knock it down -- she must not feel like getting into a pissing match with you right now. 

Good. You don’t either.

You notice he left the bottle on your desk. You manage another three sips before you finally head down to dinner, where you slide into the open seat beside Liam, silently pushing the empty bottle toward him. 

“I’m proud of you,” he whispers, not wanting to draw any attention from the group around you, who are all immersed in hearty conversation.

You haven’t heard those words from anyone in a long time. They mean more to you than he could ever imagine.

[catboyieejeno]

your lazy morning drabble w donghyuck was super cute 🥹 could i request a slight angst/fluffy drabble with how jaehyun would spoil his partner when he realizes they are going through a hard time? thank you 🤍🤍

comfort; jung jaehyun

pairings: bf! jaehyun x gn! reader (mentions of reader having hair tied back, but no pronouns)

contents: cursing, established relationship, slight angst, jaehyun cheers reader up, ending is all fluff :,(

Your boyfriend prided himself in learning and knowing everything about you; he knew you better than anyone, and even you couldn’t deny that.

Jaehyun had memorized your endearing quirks and habits, learned to appease your unique sense of humor, mentally noted your list of pet peeves, watched warily for signs of your stressors. He knew these things about you practically better than he knew himself. He was observant, patient, a good listener. All of the qualities that made you so very sure that you were in love with him, and he with you, because who else would make the time and effort to know you so well, if they weren’t.

A few months into the relationship, Jaehyun noticed the slight mood changes you would go through, where for a month or so, you would feel fine, happy, whole. Then, out of nowhere and entirely unannounced, a wave of stress would hit you. You had a sensitive soul, one prone to be affected by the external factors that were out of your control, and when too many things went wrong all at once, you would break down.

His heart ached every time he realized that he couldn’t always make it better, but nonetheless, he never stopped trying.

Today was one of those days. Your really, really shitty days.

Earlier in the week, you and one of your long term friends had a fight and stopped talking. A mere two hours later, you got stuck in the middle of a rainstorm waiting for the train home. The rain caused you to get sick with migraines, nausea, and fever galore, which you had to endure every day of class for the remainder of the week. Your sleep schedule was suffering, since you were in a constant battle with your illness which wore you down. The medication you needed barely aided your symptoms, only serving to make you drowsy, and the countless stacks of notes you needed to study for today’s midterm were relentlessly packed with information. A midterm worth a considerable, significant amount of your grade, which you failed with a 47%.

The front door slammed behind you, bag crashing to the floor as you stepped inside your apartment. You kicked your shoes off to the side, disregarding where they may have landed, keys flying onto the couch. With your lip caught between your teeth, which you were convinced was the only thing keeping you from crying out of pure frustration, you shuffled down the hall and straight into your bedroom.

As you stepped inside, Jaehyun’s head snapped up, eyes momentarily lighting up at the sight of you until he took note of your expression.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he cooed, arms pushing himself off the mattress. He hurried over to you, ready to pull you into his arms, but your outstretched hand halted him and kept him at a distance.

With the most docile tone you could muster, you muttered out a single phrase, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Jaehyun gave you a curt nod and watched, frozen in his spot, as you stormed around the room, grabbing the clothes you would wear after your shower. His eyes followed you, seeing as you drop them on the corner of the bed. In one motion, you yanked the tie out of your hair and left it on your nightstand, fingers scratching at your scalp to soothe the soreness of having it tied back for so many hours.

Your gaze landed on the desk in the corner of the room, where all your study guides, notes, and cheat sheets laid sprawled out, mocking you. Maybe if you had studied harder, if you had stayed up later. Unable to look at them any longer, you ran over, piling each stack one on top of the other and slamming the papers face down against the wooden surface. You shut the textbook with a boom, and picked up the now useless notes you had made, crumbling them up within your fists, hoping you’d find some relief by crushing them into nothing.

It wasn’t until Jaehyun came up behind you, placing his hand ever so carefully on your shoulder and uttering a small “Babe?” that you noticed the hot, angry tears pooling at your eyes.

“What?” You snapped, turning around, “I’m not in the fucking mood, Jae. I already told you I don’t wanna talk about it right now.”

His lips pursed, taking in your words. “Okay.” was all he managed to say.

You continued on your track without sparing him a second glance, grabbing your clothes and going straight into the bathroom.

You spun the shower handle to the highest degree and began to peel your clothes off your body, discarding them in the hamper. For the first few seconds that the hot water hit your skin, you felt relief, as if just for a moment, everything terrible that had happened this past week was not real, like it was not hurting you. You squeezed your eyes shut, basking in the blissful feeling, until your ears pick up the sound of your front door closing and your heart dropped.

Your hand flies to shut off the water, and you wait for a moment in silence, yearning, pleading with yourself that you had only imagined the click of the door.

Timidly, you call out, “Babe?”

There was no response.

“Jae?” Your second call is louder, although somehow weaker and tainted with guilt.

Jaehyun had stormed out, undoubtedly because of the way you spoke to him.

“Fuck,”

Finally, for the first time this week, your tears come spilling out as you switch the water back on. It muffled your sobs, but it no longer soothed the hurt in your chest.

You can’t remember how long you stood there, pouring out all your pent up emotions; you had no defined measure of time, but you were there long enough for the water to start going cold, leaving you no choice but to step out.

Your tears eventually stopped as you finished dressing yourself, and you wanted nothing more than to wrap yourself in your blanket and go to sleep.

Truthfully, you wanted to be in your boyfriend’s arms, to feel held and loved by him as you rambled on about all the things that had upset you, knowing he would not only listen to you, but hear you.

The bathroom door opened and shut behind you, and as you turn to your bed, just about ready to collapse into it, your feet skid to a stop.

Sat on the edge of the bed was Jaehyun, a bouquet of the prettiest pink tulips in one hand, an iPad in the other. Organized on the bed was an assortment of your favorite snacks and comfort foods. You take a look around, mouth agape, as you notice the white sheet hung up on the wall opposite of the bed.

A projector illuminated the opening credits of your favorite movie, the one you had been begging him to watch with you for forever, onto the smooth surface. The room light had been dimmed, replaced by fairy lights that glowed a light shade of purple. The pillows and blankets had been propped up into the shape of a fort. Your nightstand was full of your favorite skin care masks and creams, along with a new and neatly folded silk pajama set and white slippers that matched the exact outfit Jaehyun was wearing.

“Are you insane-“

“I know you said you didn’t want to talk about what happened and I’m sorry for pushing it earlier, but I couldn’t just let you be-“ he cut you off, but you were quick to interrupt him, kneeling in front of him where he sat on the bed.

“No, no, no. I’m sorry,” you shook your head, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you, it was just misdirected anger and I know that’s not an excuse,” You rambled, bringing a hand up to cup his face, “Baby, you didn’t have to do all this,”

“I don’t care about earlier. You’ve been so upset all week, I couldn’t stand to see you like that anymore.” he explained. Jaehyun sets aside the two gifts in his hands, pulling you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around you.

“I thought you stormed out,” you confessed, “I heard the door close and I thought-“

“I would never, love,” he pressed a soft kiss to your lips and gestured around, “I only went out to get all this,”

“I can see that,” you giggle, “You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

His fingers came up to brush your wet hair behind your ear and he kissed you again, moving his mouth smoothly against yours. The feeling of bliss returned, and you swore you could’ve melted right then and there in his arms. The comfort you felt in his hold was incomparable.

When you pulled away for a breath, you looked around once more, taking in the sight of the room and gifts.

“An iPad?” you raised a brow.

“I was tired of seeing you scribble in those notebooks every day.”

Your head tilts back in laughter as you hold him close, thanking him. He started going on about the matching PJ’s, urging you to put yours on so the two of you could match, and you sighed, just about ready to get off his lap and change. Admittedly, you were anticipating his reaction to the movie and the night ahead. Before you get up, however, you remind him of a simple fact.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

+.*·

requests r open

+.*·

[iridescent-petrichor]

silence feels better with you, chapter one

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

Warnings: none

Words: 2K

A/N: whew that 10k fic ended up giving me multiple months of writers block apparently but I'M BACK (and on my birthday no less :D)

Next Chapter

It wasn’t entirely surprising when you hadn’t heard from JJ in a few days. You knew his dad had just gotten out of prison, and you knew how hard things got for him in times like that.

Still, it worried you when you checked John B’s house for the third day in a row only to be told that he hadn’t heard from or seen JJ either. You’d even swung by JJ’s house a few times, but you never stayed long. His dirtbike was never parked in the gravel driveway, but you’d always see JJ’s dad’s truck, and that was enough to scare you into searching elsewhere.

After days of texting JJ with no reply, begging him to come over, you finally got a text that made your day a little brighter.

I’m coming over.

You waited patiently for JJ, opening the front door before he even got the chance to knock, ready to greet your boyfriend with a whole plan of what the two of you could do together to wind down from whatever stress JJ's dad had surely induced.

The look in his eyes made the words die on your tongue.

He stepped inside, and you closed the door behind him, trying to pretend the tension in the air didn’t exist.

“We need to talk.” JJ finally mutters after a few seconds of painful silence, glancing between the floor and the pictures hanging on the walls of your parents' house.

You froze, eyes wide. Those four words alone were enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

“Yeah,” You start hesitantly, barely managing to speak above a whisper. “Yeah, uh- are you… okay?”

Every part of you wants to step towards him, collapsing into his arms and hugging him tightly until whatever was wrong went away. But you couldn’t. JJ may have been a few steps away, but you knew he his mind was miles and miles away from you. You knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t accept your comfort. Not like this.

Every part of JJ wants to just break down and run into your arms and tell you everything plaguing his mind. But he’s spent too much time with his dad recently. His walls are up too high. So he just stands there, staring at the floor, at the wall, at anything but you.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Your heart practically stops beating, staring at JJ with wide eyes. There’s a tense moment of silence where you’re praying you heard him wrong. Then, you start praying that he misspoke. That if you were silent long enough he would tell you he didn’t mean it, that he loved you and wanted to be with you forever.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

“JJ-”

He cuts you off instantly, not wanting to hear the heartbreak in your voice. “Y/N, no-”

You shake your head, your voice cracking as you try to speak. “JJ, don’t-”

“Y/N.”

You fall silent the instant JJ utters your name, saying it as if it’s a warning.

“I can’t do this anymore.” He repeats, finally looking you in the eyes.

A sob rips its way from your throat, and you have to force yourself to take a step away from JJ.

“Please, just- what happened?” You manage to choke out. “What’s- JJ, just talk to me-”

You knew JJ better than anyone. You knew the self-hatred that was swirling around his mind. You knew he was just lashing out because he felt unworthy, but his words and the harsh look in his eyes still stung.

“It’s better for both of us.” He says, shoving his hands into his short pockets, his gaze falling to the floor again.

No matter how much you tried to convince yourself this was just another one of JJ’s moods, you couldn’t help but feel like your world was crashing down around you. Your hands were shaking as you tried to take a step towards him, but he took two steps back, refusing to meet your eyes.

“JJ, please-” You hated the way your voice sounded, so broken and small, so quickly brought to tears by JJ’s words.

JJ took a deep breath, steeling himself before meeting your eyes again.

“We can- we can work through this-” You try to say, pleading with him.

“Y/N, we’re not-” He was already shaking his head, and you have to force yourself not to break down.

“No, we can- we’re fine, we can-”

“Stop-” JJ’s gaze darkened. “You can’t- just-”

“Just listen to me, please-”

“Y/N, I need you to-”

“JJ, just listen-”

“Y/N, just shut up!” JJ finally snaps, making your blood run cold as you stare at him. He looked so different from the boy you fell in love with that you couldn’t even recognize him anymore. “It’s done. It’s over. We’re done.”

“I love you.” You couldn’t help but whisper, hoping against all odds that it brings the love of your life back to you.

JJ stiffened at your words like they’d had the opposite effect on him.

“Goodbye.”

You barely had enough time to react, let alone respond, before he was already out the door, slamming it behind him so hard that a picture frame on the shelf nearby rattled. It was an old picture – one of you and JJ when you were kids. The two of you couldn’t be older than thirteen. JJ was stood beside you, his messy blonde hair in need of a trim. He had you pulled close to him, both of you grinning from ear to ear. It was after a long day of surfing, and you were both a little sunburnt and had flakes of sand all over you.

After a few moments, you spun the picture around to face the wall, unable to look at it any longer.

The silence of your house was getting to you, and you barely stood there in the aftermath of the breakup for more than five minutes before you were throwing your shoes on, making your way to Kiara’s house.

The second Kiara opens the door, her eyes widen, taking in the tear stains on your cheeks.

“Jesus, what the hell happened?” She instantly steps aside to let you in, and you can barely keep your composure, breaking down into tears the second she closes the door. You collapse into her arms, sobs racking your body.

It felt like you couldn’t breathe, and you clung to Kiara as tight as you could, your words barely coherent.

“He dumped me.”

Kiara pulls back just enough to look at you, sheer surprise on her face. “He what?” Her grip on you tightens protectively. “JJ fucking dumped you?

You don’t bother responding, knowing you’ll barely be able to get the words out as you stutter out another sob.

Kiara steadies you, giving you just enough support to keep you on your feet. Ever so gently, she brings you upstairs to her room, setting you on her bed and putting an arm around you.

Neither of you say anything for a while. Kiara stares at you, waiting for you to gather enough strength to talk about what happened.

There’s a moment where you aren’t quite sure if you’ll ever be able to speak about it. You cling to Kiara tighter, burying your face in the crook of her neck, unable to stop the tears from flowing.

“I love him, Kie.” You finally manage to say, pulling away from her long enough to wipe at your eyes. “I love him so much. It hurts so much-” A new round of sobs hit you, and you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes to wipe the tears away.

Still, Kiara stays silent. She continues rubbing your back, knowing that you just need to get it out now.

“I feel like my heart was just ripped out.” You croak, your throat hoarse from all the crying. “I miss him so much already. I need him, Kie-”

Kiara pulls you closer, hugging you tight and whispering soothing words, trying to calm you down from this heartbreak.

“I love him so much. I don’t even know what happened.” You sob, falling into her embrace again. “I feel like I failed him somehow.”

-

JJ, after storming out of your house, finds himself where he always finds himself – at the only place he’s ever called home.

He slams the door behind him on the way into John B’s house, startling the boy sat on the couch watching TV.

“Jesus, JJ.” John B mutters, reaching for the remote, turning the television off, and looking up at JJ. “Are you trying to break my door off its hinges again?”

JJ doesn’t answer, walking past him to the kitchen and grabbing a beer from the fridge. He pops off the cap, moving back to the living room to collapse onto the couch beside John B.

“What did you do?” John B asks, shifting in his seat so he’s facing JJ.

“I ruined everything,” JJ says under his breath, his eyes glazed over as he stares straight ahead at the wall. He takes a long drink of the beer.

John B recognizes the look in his eyes all too well. Sitting up a little straighter, he tries to get JJ to look at him.

“What. Did. You. Do.”

“I dumped her.”

There’s a thick silence in the room, and JJ sighs. He’s so tired of the tension that’s been following him around.

“Why?” John B asks after what felt like an eternity of dead silence.

JJ doesn’t respond right away, taking another swig of beer. He’s barely responsive, just staring straight ahead, his eyes blank.

“JJ.” John B nudges him, trying to get him to focus.

Still nothing.

“Hey, c’mon man.” John B nudges him again, harder this time as JJ takes a final sip of his beer.

Something snaps inside of JJ, and he stands suddenly as if the weight of what he did finally hits him, throwing the empty beer bottle into the kitchen of the Chateau, barely flinching when it shatters on the wall.

“JJ!” John B snaps, standing and grabbing his shoulders to get JJ to focus on him.

“I ruined fucking everything, John B!” He yells right back. “I broke up with her, okay? I fucking- I needed her, but-” He trails off, taking his hat off and tossing it across the room, running his hands through his hair.

“JJ, you gotta calm down.” John B tries to say, worried that JJ’s spiraling out of control.

“Calm down?” JJ turns to focus on him, eyes blazing with anger and frustration and heartbreak. “I just ruined the one thing I got goin’ for me, and you want me to calm down?”

“JJ-” John B stares JJ down, trying to ease the tension he knows is building in JJ’s chest. “Why’d you do it?”

“Because she deserves better, man,” JJ says, the anger in his tone dissipating into a broken sort of pain. “I mean, c’mon, we all know she’s gonna go far in life. She can’t have me dragging her down. That’s not fair to her. It’s- this is for the best.”

John B doesn’t speak for a moment, his brows furrowing in thought. He’d seen JJ get self-destructive before, but he knows that when it’s this bad it always leads back to Luke Maybank.

“JJ-”

“It’s for the best,” JJ repeats, giving John B a look as if to say there’s no room for argument. Because, in JJ’s mind, if there’s an argument to be had here, if he’s wrong, then he’s just made the biggest mistake of his life for nothing.

Maybe he has anyway but he can’t afford to think about that. He refuses to.

Instead, he sits back down on the couch, burying his face in his hands, trying to calm himself down. He can hear John B talking, but he tunes it out, his mind just replaying the pain in your eyes, the way your voice broke, the way you begged him to stay.

It takes everything in him to not throw something.

It takes everything in him to not go back to your house, begging you to take him back.

[icallhimjoey]

Picture this: y/n comes home very drunk from a night out with her girlfriends and is trying to jump his bones the whole time while Joe is taking off her make up, giving her water, and changing her into comfy pajamas 🥰

just in time for halloween, i themed this request for all of my spooky babes (a little, it's whatever) enjoy! Wordcount: 2K

----

Soft Hands

“Fuck. So, none of them fit?” you said, speech slurred slightly, giving your set of keys another double take. You tried to focus your eyes extra hard on them properly, again. Then you gave it another go, holding a key you knew wasn’t meant for this lock, but, maybe it was, you know? Couldn’t hurt to at least give it a little try.

Joe was laid out on the sofa, TV displaying a random Halloween film that was on with its volume turned low, his attention mostly on the phone in his hands.

He’d heard you from the moment the taxi doors had opened, filling your quiet street with loud girly screeches that shouted drunken heartfelt goodbyes and laughed when you had tried to slam the door shut, but missed the door entirely with your hands. You’d already committed your body weight into it and practically launched yourself onto the pavement. One of your friends had to then also climb out to make sure you were okay and had to drag you away from the car by your arms, so they’d be able to drive off without catching any of your limbs under the tires.

You were all giggles and swirly vision, which was ultimately why you’d tried to open your front door with the wrong keys.

After finally locating the right key, missing the lock with it about six times, suddenly, it fit, and you stumbled into your flat.

Joe couldn’t help but chuckle softly to himself as he’d listened to you muttering swearwords under your breath outside on the doormat, eyes still glued to his phone.

He hadn’t gotten up to help but had instead been curious how long it was going to take you, gaging how drunk you were before he’d even laid eyes on you.

“Hands up, it’s the– it’s the police,” you spoke into your flat after slamming the door shut behind you and you heard Joe snicker from the sofa.

“Eddie, you’re a wanted fu– fugitive, give yourself–” you hiccuped as you slowly took careful steps into the living room, trying your very best to remain steadily on your feet.

“Give yourself up to the law,” it was difficult to remain stood up with your arms unable to help you balance yourself as you held out a plastic toy gun that scanned the room before it landed with its barrel pointed at Joe.

“Hopper...” Joe said from his spot on the sofa in an American accent as if he was stood face to face with his arch enemy.

Then he paused for just a second before laughing loudly and exclaiming, “Your full bum is out!”

It took you a second too long to pan your eyes down, noticing how your skirt had fully run up over your cheeks, exposing your underwear through your sheer tights.

You huffed a laugh at the look of it.

“Oh,” was all you could say before sloppily trying to straighten your outfit, but it was to no avail. You wanted to get out of it, anyway.

“Did you have fun?” Joe put his phone down and grinned at your messy hair, the aviator sunglasses all tangled up on top of your head, and Joe thought back to how just hours earlier you’d been faffing at it for ages with your straightener.

It had been a while since Joe’d seen you like this, a full mess of a girl.

You’d been stupidly excited for Halloween this year, but your boyfriend hadn’t been. For obvious reasons. Not in the mood to pose for a million photos with people dressed like Eddie Munson, he’d decided to just stay in for the night and maybe hand over some sweets if kids were to ring your doorbell.

You’d been all pouty and sulky about it – “Come on, dress up as Eddie yourself, no one will assume it’s actually you! – and even tried convincing him to come along by dressing up as a stupidly slutty sheriff, overdoing it completely.

Like you were meant to, on Halloween.

When your friends had picked you up earlier that evening, you'd pointed at your boyfriend and confidently said, "Don't wait up," before immediately regretting it, laughing, and saying, "No please wait up, I'm going to get so drunk.”

You'd been right.

When you’d stopped sending Joe pictures of you with random people dressed as Stranger Things characters and instead, had started trying to Facetime him, he knew it was only because you were too far gone to text coherently.

 “I got hit on tonight,” you replied to Joe’s question giddily, almost erratic, like you’d revealed a very exciting secret and stalked your way towards him.

“Did you?” Joe chuckled, still in the same relaxed position on the sofa, legs outstretched along the seats, moving them apart slightly as you got closer, bracing for impact.  

“I did,” you smiled until your eyes went squinty, so pleased with yourself for it.

“Everyone loved sexy Jim Hopper,” you let yourself fall onto Joe.

“Sexy Jim Hopper got a lot of free drinks tonight,” you sighed heavily, the alcohol thick on your breath, and you pressed your face into Joe’s chest. You could just go to sleep right there.

“Mmh, well,” Joe mused as he gave you a squeeze. “Sexy Jim Hopper smells like it too, come on,” Joe patted you on the bum, urging you to get up off of him as he tried to sit up himself.

You didn’t do anything to help him, eyes already closed, making Joe grunt loudly as he fought against the bodyweight of the two of you. He continued to push you back up onto your feet before guiding you to the bathroom by your shoulders.

Joe ended up having to curl his arm around you to open the bathroom door, because when you reached it, you just stood in front of it and held your toy gun in your hands, pressed up to the side of your face.

When the door swung open, you stretched your arms out and as you did, the toy slipped from your hands and loudly clanged as it landed in the tub.

“Jesus Chr– how many times have you done that tonight?” Joe ducked down and flinched in reaction to the sudden loud noises. You just gave him a dumb smile, remembering the amount of times you’d scurried across the length of the several bars and pubs you’d visited to retrieve your prop.

“Guns can be a weapon in more ways than the obvious one,” you tapped a finger to your temple as if you were feeding Joe a crumb of great wisdom. If you’d said it any slower, you’d have been talking backwards.

Joe pulled down the lid to the toilet seat and made you sit on it. He then reached for your toothbrush, dotted on a bit of toothpaste, and turned back to see you slumped back, head hanging totally unsupported, and your eyes closed.

“Baby, come on,” Joe said, not getting a reaction out of you. He looked at you a second, reached a hand over, hesitated for a moment, and then went for it anyway.

Hunching over you, he grabbed your cheeks in his hand and squeezed his fingers together until your mouth opened. He was ready to brush your teeth for you like you were a toddler. You whined loudly, frowned deeply, and smacked his hand away before he could, though.

It resulted in your toothbrush falling from Joe’s hand and landing face down onto the tiles.

“What are you–” Joe started, then sighed, frustration building.

“Bed,” you moaned, reaching out to use Joe for leverage as you wanted to get back up on your feet.

“No, no. I remember you specifically telling me that I wasn’t allowed to let you fall asleep in your make-up,” Joe pushed you back down before reaching for your toothbrush and tossing it into the sink.

As his face moved closely in front of you, you suddenly grabbed hold of it with both hands, your grip entirely too strong for it to be cute or endearing. You squished his cheeks together, leaving his mouth a funny shape that you pressed a few rough pecks onto.

“Look at this man,” you said, and let your frown grow deeper as your grip became stronger.

You wanted to crush him like you’d want to squeeze cute kittens, entirely unable to handle the overwhelming feeling of adoration you felt.

“So handsome.”

Joe wrapped your hands into his own softly and then slowly pried them off him before pressing a kiss onto your lips. Drunk you had a weird way of showing affection, but Joe was kind of into it and he couldn’t stop the smile that tugged on his cheeks.

“I’ve been saying it all night,” you said, head now falling back against the wall behind you as you watched Joe reach for your make-up wipes.

“No thanks, I’ve got a handsome boyfriend. Thanks for the drink, I’ve got a handsome boyfriend. Shame my boyfriend’s not here, he’s very handsome.”

“Eyes closed,” Joe said, now holding a still folded wipe in his palm and when you closed your eyes, he swiped it across your cheeks with an incredibly careful touch.

“No,” you corrected him and pressed his hand harshly into your face. “More pressure, soft hands,” Joe huffed a laugh at the given nickname. 

Joe obliged, but when it came to your eyes, he didn’t want to hurt you. With soft downstrokes over your lashes, Joe wasn’t getting rid of any mascara or any eyeliner.

"Your hands, they're too soft!" you whined in annoyance before taking over, rubbing harshly at your eyes over the wet fabric.

“Careful!” Joe directed. “We’re removing the make-up, not your actual eyes,” and you giggled until it made you go floppy.

It took entirely too long, and way too much effort to eventually untangle the sunglasses from your hair, get you out of your outfit and miraculously to also brush your teeth.

When Joe finally announced that he was going to take you to bed, you’d wiggled two tired eyebrows at him suggestively.

“Oh yea? What’s my handsome boyfriend going to do to me?” you tried your best to be seductive, failing miserably in your drunken haze, barely able to carry yourself into your bedroom.

“Your tired boyfriend is going to make sure you don’t get any sick on the sheets or choke on your vomit,” he said, pushing you into your bedroom by the shoulders like he’d gotten you over into the bathroom earlier too.

“No, you’re so boring, I didn’t dress like that all night for you to just go to sleep,” you said, hands reaching behind you to grab at his crotch. Joe only narrowly managed to avoid them.

The second you saw the bed, though, you were gone. Plummeting into the pillows, you didn’t even bother getting under the covers properly.

So, Joe helped, slinging your legs into the bed, pulling the covers over you, placing a bucket down next to you alongside a tall glass of water on your bedside table with a painkiller carefully placed next to it for when you’d wake up the next morning.

When he got into bed next to you, Joe was surprised when you moved over closer to him as he got comfortable.

“Come here,” you said with your eyes closed, and Joe wasn’t sure if you were still awake, or talking in your sleep.

“Get it up here near my face, I’ll suck you off,” and Joe paused to look at you, a laugh stuck in his throat, ready to slip out at a moment’s notice, but then he swallowed it when he saw that you’d truly fallen asleep now.

“Sleep tight,” Joe pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, wrapping an arm around your waist, fingers curling 'round the side of it and nuzzling into you before letting himself drift off to sleep as well.

-----

(yea i added that pic after the portland '24 con bc of what he said, sue me)

-----

The Taglisted: @ghostinthebackofyourhead @kiwisa @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @xomunson @sadbitchfangirl @jssmth5 @nobody-000 @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @eddiemunsonfuxks @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @thefemininemystiquee @dirtyeddietini - add yourself  

[cuddlepilefics]

Reassurance

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Chan

Caregiver: Changbin

prompt @whumpril

No one’s POV.:

Chan was glad that they didn’t have any real schedule today, only having some songwriting with the rest of the members. It was somewhat special to have the entire group hang out at the 3racha dorm to write music together because it was so much more complex the more people were involved but at the same time, the songs were more meaningful if more members contributed their ideas. Doing it at one of their dorms was also a pleasant change as compared to the studio because they didn’t feel as pressured and Chan was glad to not have to go out at all. The thing was that the leader had come down with a bit of a cold over the previous night and woke up with an annoying buzz in his sinuses, making it hard for him to focus. He didn’t plan on telling the members about not feeling well, mainly because he didn’t feel like it was bad enough to be mentioned but also because he was the leader and eldest. He was always fine.

It wasn’t like Chan could hide his symptoms forever though. Sure, the headache and fatigue were easy to play off but his nose really made him struggle. It always felt like it was running but when he tried to blow it, it was blocked and gosh, did it itch! With Chan constantly scrubbing at his nose, it had turned an irritated shade of pink not long after he had gotten up. Hyunjin had pointed out the slight rasp to the leader’s voice but it was still early, so the dancer was easily convinced that it was just his hyung’s morning voice. Getting everyone settled in the living room was a little chaotic, so no one noticed Chan heading to the bathroom to blow his nose but they did hear the forceful sneeze he triggered. For some reason, blowing his nose had only left it more sensitive.

On his way back to the living room, Chan grabbed himself a glass of cold water because his throat was slowly starting to ache, the harsh sneeze no doubt having strained it. Plopping down on the couch, the Aussie felt like all his strength had left him and he leant into Seungmin’s side, trying to get comfortable despite the deep ache all over his body. Thinking Chan just wanted to tease him again, the vocalist shrugged him off and reminded: “Hyung, just because we’re at your dorm doesn’t mean that we don’t have to work, so let’s please just do something useful.”

The rejection hurt though Chan understood his dongsaeng’s reasoning and also knew that if he admitted to not feeling his best, they’d probably be a lot more understanding, but he didn’t want his cold to interfere with their work. Well, he didn’t intent for it to interfere with their work but there was only so much control that he had over it. Not wanting to annoy the members with his sniffles, Chan tried to avoid it at all costs and instead sat with the cuff of his sleeve permanently pressed against his nose, the fabric slowly growing damp while his skin started to chap. He couldn’t fight off the urge to sneeze though.

Though Chan usually had the habit of blessing himself after every sneeze, his sneezes soon came too frequently to bother. Besides, he was already causing so much disruption and didn’t want to cause any more by commenting on it every time. Maybe he should just tell the members that he was sick. His eyes were already watering badly from the congestion and the sinus headache and fatigue made it close to impossible for him to focus on his task anyway. Chan didn’t really have much time to ponder it though, his breath already hitching again. Ducking his face into the crook of his arm, the leader caught two loud sneezes and despite his best efforts at muffling them, they still startled Jisung enough to make him drop his pen. “Next time a warning would be nice”, the rapper muttered as he shakily picked up his pen. Rolling his eyes, Seungmin teased: “I’ll probably suffer from hearing loss due to a burst ear drum by tonight if you keep going at this rate.”

Knowing that their comments were just friendly banter, Chan tried to not let it get to him but for some reason it still left him feeling self-conscious. He had tried stifling his sneezes before and knew from experience that he wouldn’t be very successful and only get a worse sinus headache in turn, so it wasn’t really worth it. Feeling his nose tingle again, Chan’s heart started to race and he hurriedly scrubbed the back of his hand against his nose to ease the sensation. It didn’t do much except for making his skin burn but he really didn’t want to sneeze again. Sadly, there wasn’t much the Aussie could do about it and he soon lost the fight. The sneeze ended up wetter than expected and had Chan scramble to grab a tissue, making Jeongin chuckle: “I guess I’ll bring an umbrella next time I come over.”

By now, Chan expected that he was probably running a fever too. The members’ teasing wouldn’t usually affect his emotions like this, so there had to be more at play here because right now, he felt ready to cry. Sure, he was well aware that his sneezes were quite loud but he didn’t choose for them to be this way. To make matters worse, Chan’s nose was still itching and he could feel the need to sneeze rise again. Harshly rubbing his nose into the cuff of his sleeve, he tried to fight it off but his breath already hitched desperately. Chan caught a throat-scraping sneeze in his fist and gave a scratchy cough afterwards, eyes watering as they locked with Changbin’s. Something about the hoarse sound told the rapper that there was more going on than his hyung’s nose being sensitive, so he offered for all of them to take a short break.

While Chan made a beeline for the bathroom to properly blow his nose, knock back some medicine and to also get away from the members’ prying eyes, Changbin headed to the kitchen and brewed a cup of tea. The rapper also stirred in a generous spoonful of hones to hopefully soothe Chan’s throat because those last few sneezes had sounded rough. Everyone was still doing their own thing when Changbin approached the leader, steaming cup in hand. “Hey”, the rapper smiled softly, “I made you some tea. If I asked you how you’re feeling, would I get an honest answer?” Gratefully wrapping his hands around the warm cup, Chan sniffled: “Thank you. Tired, frustrated and humiliated, I guess.” – “Now, why’s that?”, Changbin frowned as he led the older to his room, so they’d have more privacy to talk.

Almost tearing up, Chan took a seat on the edge of his bed and muttered: “I-I, I don’ wanna sneeze so much. I don’ wanna sneeze so loud. It’s – It’s annoying and gross and –“ – “And it hurts, doesn’t it?”, Changbin hummed, rubbing the other’s back when he received a pathetic nod, “It’s not annoying or gross or anything like that. It’s natural. You’re sick, I bet you’re running a fever with how warm you feel through your clothes.” Chan hummed in confirmation, admitting: “Just took something for it. Mind’s foggy an’ my emotions are all over the places.” – “Is the teasing getting to you? I noticed you were really quiet… except for all the sneezing”, the rapper asked, gently brushing Chan’s bangs out of his face to get a proper look at his glossy eyes and bright pink nose. The older shrugged and mumbled: “I know they mean no harm….” – “That doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect you”, Changbin pointed out, “You don’t need to be self-conscious, hyung. You’re sick and sick people sneeze. That’s okay.”

Changbin decided that there was no use in Chan trying to write anything while his mind was so hazy that he couldn’t focus. Repeatedly running his fingers through the Aussie’s hair, he hummed: “How about I go talk to the others? We can postpone our session to either tomorrow or maybe in a couple of hours when your fever went down a bit?” – “But we already started and everyone’s here”, Chan sniffled, twisting to his side with a forceful sneeze. The younger handed him a tissue and promised: “They’ll find something else to do, hyung. There’s no way they will get bored. Maybe some will continue noting down their song ideas for a little longer, maybe they’ll enjoy a few fun hours of free time. Nobody will be upset at you though, don’t worry. You should only focus on resting. If you want, I’ll stay with you for cuddles. We could watch a movie or something, at least till you fall asleep.” – “I keep sneezing all the time though”, Chan frowned, giving a thick sniffle as if to prove a point. “You really think I would’ve offered if that was a problem?”, Changbin sighed exasperatedly, “You’re human, that’s only natural and it’s okay.”

After telling the group about Chan’s condition, Changbin joined the leader in his room, carrying a box of tissues and a bag of cough drops. “Is there a specific movie you want to watch or should we just cuddle?”, the rapper hummed as he placed the items on the nightstand. Scooting to the other side of the bed to make room for his dongsaeng, Chan mumbled: “You can pick a movie, so you don’t get bored. I’m perfectly content with just cuddles. Might fall asleep soon anyway.” – “That’s okay”, Changbin smiled, slipping under the blanket next to Chan, “I’d be so happy if you managed to get some sleep. You’re exhausted, aren’t ?” With a hoarse hum of confirmation, the leader nuzzled his face into Changbin’s chest, relaxing when the other draped an arm around his shoulders.

Though Changbin repeatedly reassured Chan that he wasn’t bothered by his sneezing at all, the Aussie still tried his hardest to hold back. That was close to impossible, his nose so unbearably itchy. Scrubbing at his nose with the cuff of his sleeve, Chan attempted to soothe the itch but only managed to earn himself a scolding from Changbin for messing with the already raw skin before sneezing anyway. “Why do you insist on hurting yourself?”, the rapper sighed. He had eventually turned on the TV to watch a random drama, mainly to give Chan the impression that he wasn’t paying attention to him and his struggle, so he’d hopefully stop being so insecure about it.

The truth was that Changbin only paid attention to Chan, completely drowning out the TV, so he of course picked up on every little sniffle and frustrated whine as the older struggled to breathe through the tingle in his sinuses. Occasionally, his breath would start to hitch but when he lifted his hand to rub at his nose, Changbin caught it and linked their fingers. The leader whined hoarsely, nuzzling his face into Changbin’s shirt to quell the itch but it didn’t help. With his hand trapped, Chan aimed two rough sounding sneezes down at the blanket, giving a stuffy cough afterwards. Lightly patting the Aussie’s curls as a blessing, Changbin handed him a cough drop. Though Chan usually didn’t like his hair being messed with for the fear it’d fall out faster, Changbin’s touch was so light and gentle, it made him drowsy in no time and he was soon too out of it to try and fight the urge to sneeze.

When the rapper was confident that Chan wasn’t going to rub his skin raw anymore, he let go of his to at least allow the older to cover. Knowing too much attention would fluster the leader, Changbin refrained from blessing him but acknowledged each sneeze with some form of affection, either running his nails against his scalp or holding him a bit tighter for a moment. Just showing that he was there and that he cared without calling the older out. It was just the reassurance, Chan needed.

[minhyeong]

DOJAEJUNG + TRIANGULAR THEORY OF LOVE !

[ doyoung ] empty love: commitment with the absence of passion and intimacy

There were days when the realization drew him in like a whirlpool, and he would sink into a kind of sadness that was forbidden to the touch. There were days where he sensed the nagging presence of an ache, but he would convince himself that all he needed to do was carefully shut it away. 

Today, however, Doyoung has come to terms with the fact that sometimes people stop being in love. Somewhere along the line, he built a pane of glass between you and him. As the time slipped by, the days became so alike that he didn’t even notice how you both grew up and grew out of each other. Sometimes, he still thinks he can see himself growing old with you, inexplicably in love until the end of time. 

Today, however, Doyoung has come to terms with the fact that you were always separate.

“I don’t even know what to say,” he admitted, his hoarse, low whispers drowned out by the late evening wind. His fingers twitched as he slid back into his seat as far as he could to put some distance between you and him.

It was a cold evening, the type of cold that reached your bones and made you want to pull him closer than ever.

But his words were beyond icy.

“I don’t know what would be fair to say to you after all this time.” He let out a hollow laugh that pained his lungs. “I think...” he trailed off, fumbling with his words as if he was trying to find the least painful way to hurt you. “I think I might be a horrible person.”

For a second, you believed him. Doyoung had left you with more scars than you could count. Then, you realized he had desperately held onto an emptiness that had fossilized long ago.

“I understand.” You kept your mouth pressed into a tight line, trying to pretend he couldn’t see you. 

The room was too still. The drum of your heart was heavy and unbearable and dragged you down. The possibility that you were his crippling affliction crawled its way up your throat until you choked.

Doyoung drew your attention back with a soft murmur, the guilt flitting across his features when your gazes locked.

“Thank you.” He fell silent again, chewing on the insides of his cheek, plagued by uncertainty. Finally, he expelled a shuddering breath that left a fleeting, misty cloud. “I’m sorry.” 

You watched him through the pane of glass, and a strange feeling settled somewhere deep in the pit of your stomach, like the world was closing in again. 

“It was a privilege to love you.” He smiled half-heartedly, and you realized that his eyes had turned dull and dreary with time. Perhaps you’ve always noticed but simply didn’t want to come to terms with the impending end.

Today, however, Doyoung has.

So you forced yourself to turn away, forgetting how to cry.

I wish I still had the privilege to love you, you wanted to say, but Doyoung was already light years away.

[ jaehyun ] romantic love: passion and intimacy with the absence of commitment

There was no right or wrong way to fall for someone. You couldn’t recall the exact point in time that defined the very moment your feelings for Jaehyun shifted beyond platonic. It was all subtle until it turned you into a nervous wreck around him.

But you were bad at having crushes, so you spent all your time convincing yourself that your heart wasn’t moments away from leaping right out of your rib cage whenever he was around. 

The biggest problem was: he was always around. It was impossible to figure out whether you had forced your way into his routine or the other way around, but you had become so comfortable with his presence that it scared you. 

“People keep on thinking we’re dating,” you muttered, mindlessly scrolling through your phone as you sprawled your limbs across the entire couch.

Jaehyun laughed, not even sparing you a glance from where he sat cross-legged on the ground with his back against the couch. He fixed the cushion that almost slipped entirely off his lap until it was tucked under his elbows again. “What’s wrong with that?”

“What do you mean?” You peered at the back of his head incredulously, shooting him a look of utter disbelief. “I still want to find someone and fall in love, and you’re definitely scaring everyone away.” 

You didn’t catch how he suddenly became mildly irritated. His jaw clenched, shoulders going rigid. Then, he sharply exhaled before composing himself. “Didn’t you just go on a date a few weeks ago? With that guy who didn’t even have enough sincerity to bring you out to a restaurant?”

“That’s not true,” you refuted, tone softening as your confidence gradually vanished. “Remember how he made that romantic dinner for me?” 

“He microwaved you pizza.” 

You sneered at him. Even without looking back, Jaehyun sensed the slow uncoiling of annoyance and defeat as you went quiet. 

A tense silence clung to the air. His features contorted into a grimace as he contemplated his options before he finally raised to his feet. “Move your legs for a second,” he mumbled, slinking into the gap between your suspended legs and the couch. With splayed fingers on your knees, he lowered your legs down again until they settled on top of his lap. 

“If you want to fall for someone, can’t you just fall for me?” 

You were taken aback, mind short-circuiting, furrowing your brows in confusion at what that could imply. The phone nearly slipped out of your clutch when you strained your neck up to question him just to find him already looking at you. It was unnerving. The inexplicable emotions that were set ablaze suddenly terrified you. 

You wished he didn’t look at you as if he liked you back.

There was no right or wrong way to fall for someone. The bold comment undeniably changed your perspective on the relationship and sent you tumbling head first. 

But you were bad at having crushes, so you reacted instinctively and coiled back. You coughed out a strained, choppy laugh, frantically ripping away from his touch as you swung your legs off his lap. The waver in your voice and the red that permeated your cheeks in seconds weren’t helping. 

You were bad at having crushes, and Jaehyun felt a lot like free falling with nothing to hold you back from gracelessly plummeting.

But maybe someone will catch you for once. 

“I already did.” 

[ jungwoo ] infatuated love: passion with the absence of intimacy and commitment

Love at first sight was cliche. You were not normally impulsive enough to play that game, always guarding yourself because you found more safety in a love that burned slow and bright and took time.

But when you sat around the table littered with a pile of half emptied bottles and toppled over solo cups, sandwiched between your group of intoxicated friends who could barely control the trajectory of their limbs yet insisted on playing a round of truth or dare, you thought maybe taking a risk wasn’t so bad for once. 

“I dare you to kiss the next person who walks into the room.”

You scoffed, waving a hand in disapproval. “That’s getting old. I'm not kissing anyone.”

And you were adamant despite all the booing you received, but all of it crumbled like sand defending itself against the waves when Jungwoo walked in. 

The flickering lights danced across his features, and you couldn’t help but stare through your slightly hazy vision, wondering if you were still in the right plane of reality. The soft flutters in your chest escalated into irregular palpitations. You had to blink a little extra harder to ground yourself. 

You couldn’t quite put your finger on what made him different from everyone else. Perhaps the music that reverberated around your head was messing with your ability to think straight, or the alcohol in your system made you a little more reckless. 

But it was impossible to look away now that you’ve seen him. 

"Okay, I'll do it,” you muttered, shrugging as nonchalantly as you could possibly feign. “I mean, rules are rules.”

Jungwoo was already focused on a conversation by the time you gathered enough courage to cross the room and past all the bodies to get to him. There was a sweet, slightly pungent smell of sandalwood and violet as you approached him. 

Love at first sight was cliche, but perhaps the butterflies that people described were real. 

Being struck by his looks was only a small fraction of what you felt. All you knew was the sudden wave of an unfamiliar feeling was utterly frightening. You almost wanted to pivot on your heels and sprint in the opposite direction when he noticed your presence and turned his body toward you. The scent of his perfume invaded all your senses until your head felt weightless. 

“Hi,” he chirped, gently tilting his head to the side, gazing at you as if he had known you all his life.

Your heart lurched a little, all words knocked right out of your mouth as your chest thumped along with the boosted bass. When you eventually allowed yourself to meet his eyes and trace the outline of his face, you threw all caution to the wind, helplessly hypnotized by his tender smile.

It took every ounce of you to not kiss him.

Love at first sight was cliche, and while you couldn’t quite say you were in love with Jungwoo yet, you wanted to be.

[porcelana-r0ta]

The Curse of Sight, Part 3

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 4]

Summary: When Wes Weston meets Tim Drake-Wayne, the dots start connecting. And those dots form a Bat.

Ao3 Link (available only to Ao3 members)

When Wes gets home that night, he cuts off the part of Tim’s note with his name. His contact information has already been added to his phone, so he tears that part of the note up and then trashes it. The part containing his signature, Wes dumps into an envelope and scribbles out a note on a different sheet of paper: 

You owe me one. 

                —Wes

Wes seals the envelope, stamps it, and writes Tucker’s address in the center, and uses one of his mom’s fancy returning address stickers so he doesn’t have to write anymore. Then he rushes out the townhouse and drops it off at the USPS outgoing mailbox, and rushes back inside before the powers that be decide Wes should be mugged again.

Tucker may be one of the Gaslighting Trio, but he was still nice enough to help Wes in their computers class. 

xxXxx

Wes: Hi, it’s Wes! You gave me your number yesterday so I could give you coffee next time I went on a coffee run?

The reply comes unexpectedly fast for someone who runs a Fortune 500 company and is a whole entire vigilante, but maybe the coffee addiction is just that strong.

Tim: Wes! Yes, please. Have you left yet?

Wes: No, I haven’t even made the mobile order yet. Wanted to give you time to respond. Why?

Tim: Just a sec

Wes stares at his phone from his place in his mom’s office, where he sits in a brown suede chair that sits in front of her desk. His mom is typing away on her computer, a look of concentration on her face. 

“Huh,” he says to himself, then exits the chat to return to putting in orders. He’d like to just click on a past order and reuse it, but Felix and Kourtnie are always changing their orders. He’s convinced it’s because they hate him, but maybe it’s that he’s letting his experience with Jade color his vision. 

“What is it, sweetie?” his mom asks without pausing in his work. 

“Well, Tim asked me to text him next time I went to get coffee. And like, I did. And he answered, but then told me to wait a sec.”

“Can’t ignore orders from the big boss,” his mom says, and Wes nods. 

“Yeah, but I think Kourtnie will die if she waits too long for her caffeine fix.”

“She’ll have to get over it, or stop by Batbucks before she comes in.”

“I don’t think she wakes up early enough for that….”

His mom snorts, “You’re right on that front. How did you even meet Mr. Drake?”

He shrugs and looks back to his phone, “I dunno. He pressed the elevator button for me a few days ago, and now suddenly all of this—” he gestures to everything, “—is a thing.”

“Teenagers,” his mom mutters under her breath. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing. Just that you suck at describing things.” 

“You’re mean. I’m disowning you as my mother.”

“Have fun on the streets of Gotham.”

“I’ll sell your credit card numbers online to buy a bus ticket back to Amity.”

“Greyhounds don’t go to Amity. Try again.”

“I’ll hitchhike and get serial killed by a semi-truck driver to get back to Amity. Then I’ll come back as a ghost and haunt you and Gotham.” 

“Not Amity Park?”

“No, they have other problems.” Like the Guys In White. Gotham has issues, but at least they aren’t government-mandated war crimes type of issues. 

His mom goes to say something, but a knock at her office door stops her. She finally looks up from her computer and makes eye contact with the interrupter, and says, “Oh, come in, Mr. Drake.”

Wes has to physically stop himself from whipping around, “Oh, hey, Tim! What’s up?” 

This is it. He’s finally figured out what I figured out and now he’s come for my kneecaps.

Okay, that was dramatic, even for him. He was making the Bats sound like a little family of mob members. Really, they were just superheroes. They couldn’t do anything harmful to Wes. At least not physically.

….Would they erase his memories? Is mind-fucking considered physical harm? 

Wes breaks into a nervous sweat. 

“I just want to help Wes out with his coffee run,” Tim explains with that charming Wayne smile that wins the hearts of anyone who feels. “I hope you don’t mind me going out with your son, Penny?” 

“Not at all,” his mom answers. “Have fun, boys. Oh, and Mr. Drake?”

“Yes?”

“Tell your brother to stop flipping off the cameras every time he spots paparazzi.” 

Tim winces, “I’ll send the message, but we can’t really run a business and control Jason at the same time.”

Jason Todd. As in Red Hood, the second Robin. The one who was pronounced dead overseas, but was miraculously found safe and somewhat sound several years later. Fantastic.

Wonder how much of that death was real? Wes has had enough ecto-exposure thanks to his stalking hijinks in Amity Park to know when he’s around others who have been touched by Death. He’s about 60% sure he could clock that in Jason Todd if he ever happened to get near him. 

Hopefully while in his civilian persona. Wes is uninterested in meeting any more vigilantes, thank you very much. 

They say their goodbyes to his mom and he gets up to follow after Tim, his knees a little wobbly. How long can he pretend to be nervous about hanging out with the guy who signs not just his paycheck, but his mom’s? 

They walk through the PR Department and make it to the elevator, painstakingly going through the motions of small talk. Wes is aware of every word he utters, carefully asking himself what could be taken the wrong way, and what is innocuous enough to say. 

“So what did you want from Batbucks?” he asks as the elevator lowers. 

“Oh, the same as what you got last time,” Tim answers, and Wes abides by that request with a single press of a button. Their conversation moves to favorite TV shows as they leave WE and head to the crosswalk to make it to the Batbucks across the street, and once there, Wes pushes the check-in button to signal to the baristas that he’s there for pickup whenever the order is finished, and they take a seat against a wall and far from the windows. 

“A Trekkie, huh?” Tim asks when Wes tells him his top five TV shows. “And a crime fan, too.”

Wes shrugs, fiddling with his fingers, “I like to figure out the ending before the characters do, and honestly, I just like George Takei.”

Tim tilts his head, “That’s fair. I like crime shows, too.”

Haha yeah, I bet you do.

“What’s your favorite?” Wes obligingly asks. 

“Oh, Criminal Minds, easily. Spencer’s a great character.” 

Wes wonders how a person with two full-time jobs like Tim has time for hobbies that include 40-minute episodes. 

“You just like seeing characters in pain, don’t you?” 

“I do not!” Tim protests, affronted. “I just think he’s a good character! With good development!” 

“That’s what I’d say, too,” Wes teases. 

Tim shakes his head, “You’re impossible. He’s just a good character! He’s so smart and awkward. What’s not to love?” 

Wes gives a half-shrug, “I mean, I guess that’s fair. He is a good character. But I’m more of a Garcia person.”

“They really make the show,” Tim agrees. “Their dynamic is iconic.”

“Speaking of iconic….” Wes takes a deep breath disguised as a sigh. Okay, so if he were going to be interrogated, it would have happened by now. So it’s probably not happening unless he’s going to see a Bat on the fire escape tonight. But if he can just reveal a tiny bit of his hand—just a little smidge—maybe he can avoid suspect altogether. 

“Yeah?” 

“I have to ask,” Wes says nervously. “It’s definitely not my business, but yesterday, when I dropped off the coffees…. I kind of saw the picture of that villain? And I was wondering… who told Mr. Wayne that the villain had a sticker of a My Immortal quote? Who had to explain to him what My Immortal is?” 

Because surely Tim knows, if not from having read the infamous fic then from doing research about the villain. 

Tim smirks and says, “That’s the best part, Wes. Bruce already knew.” 

He choked on air, “You’re kidding me!”

“I’m not. I’m really, really not. You didn’t hear this from me, but,” Tim pauses, giving a playful, sneaking look around for any listeners, and he whispers, “my brother Dick referenced it so much that Bruce read it himself.” 

“Bruce Wayne. Read My Immortal.” The fucking Batman read My Immortal? Willingly? 

“Oh yeah, he did.” 

“Did… did he recognize the quote? Did he remember?” 

“No, but he did when Dick said, ‘Damn, I hope Batman puts his middle finger up at that prep villain.’” 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Wes knows he’s getting a modified version of what really happened, but he can fill in the gaps. Nightwing quoted My Immortal to Batman. And Batman recognized it because he once read the fic in an effort to relate to his teenage son. 

Well, vigilantes are human, too. Why shouldn’t Batman know who Vampire and Bloody Mary are? 

The next few minutes pass in friendly conversation before their order name is called, and both get up to collect. Wes tries to get two out of the three carton holders, but Tim intercepts. 

“Tim,” he says, half-chastising. 

“I just like helping! And this is getting me out of a board meeting.” 

Wes’s face screws up in distaste. “Well, that’s fair, then.” 

They make their way back to the 73rd floor of Wayne Enterprises and they are hounded in the way that has become so expected for Wes. A new addition to the coffee delivery is Rebecca’s eyes lighting up upon seeing that Tim is helping Wes. 

“Did you like last night’s meme, Mr. Drake?” Rebecca asks, collecting her venti iced mocha latte.

Tim nods, “I did. Nice work on the Photoshop. And the filming equipment should be down today.” 

Wes watches as Rebecca does her best not to squeal in excitement, “Thank you, sir!” 

He nods and turns to Wes, “I’ll see you later, yeah?” His black bangs do nothing to hide the way his eyes crinkle at the corners.

Wes nods wordlessly, his throat suddenly tight and full. Tim’s smile widens and he leaves for the elevator. 

When the doors close on his figure, Rebecca jams her index and middle fingers into Wes’s ribs, “Oh my god, were you two on a coffee date?” 

“Ow, Rebecca, what? No! He just wanted to escape the board.” Wes rubs his ribs comfortingly, his muscles stinging. “That hurt, what the hell?”

“Sorry!” She’s not sorry at all. “Do you think we can get him to do a TikTok for us?” 

He spares a glance at the elevator, which has long since taken Tim up to whatever floor he haunts. “Maybe? It’d make sense, considering the whole CEO thing. Why wouldn’t he be in a TikTok at some point?”

“No reason,” she says, but there’s a fire in her eyes and a mischievous cut to her grin that she fails to hide behind her coffee. Wes’s gut curdles in dread. 

“You terrify me.”

“Thanks! Now come to my office. You need to practice your lines for the TikTok.”

“I feel like my mom has to sign some kind of release form if I’m going to be on the WE TikTok,” he warns, but dutifully follows after her. “Also, you have a cubicle. Not an office.” 

“Hush, or I’ll take away your stool. And your mom already signed one, so ha.” 

“Hushing.” He mimes the action of locking his lips and throwing away the key. 

“Ugh, you’re adorable.” 

They get to the cubicle and each takes a seat, Rebecca immediately sorting through several stacks of papers before making a triumphant noise and handing him a sheet. Wes takes it and stares at it uncomprehendingly for a few seconds. 

“Rebecca, this is just stage directions and the lines to that Cunk on Earth audio.” 

She nods, “And if we get the TikTok approved fast enough, maybe we’ll even post it when the trend is still semi-popular.” 

“And what will I be actually saying?” 

“Don’t worry about that. Just focus on being able to lip sync.” 

“Oh boy."

xxXxx

Wes had thought he would have at least a few days to get used to the idea of having his face plastered all over the internet. Unfortunately, it would seem he underestimated Rebecca’s work ethic when it came to something she wanted because she only made him do three retakes, and then she made quick work of editing. Wayne Enterprises' first-ever TikTok would be ready to go live in the morning with his mother’s and Tim’s approval. 

The TikTok in question is Wes standing in the Wayne Enterprises lobby, smiling wide and happy at the camera when he first begins talking: “It’s hard to believe I’m walking through the ruins of the first ever city.” He pauses, drops the smile, and says, “Because I’m not: that’s in Iraq, which is miles away, and fucking dangerous.” Then, he holds up two cartons of coffee into the camera frame, all filled with (secretly) empty paper venti cups, and is swarmed by various WE employees who volunteered (or were coerced by Rebecca) to be in the TikTok. 

Rebecca doesn’t let him see exactly how she subtitled the video, but he can guess. And sure enough, when the TikTok profile and video simultaneously go live the next day and Wes sees it, he is proven mostly right. 

“It’s hard to believe I’m the new face of Wayne Enterprises’ official TikTok. Because I’m not: I’m just an intern, and I get the f*cking coffee.” 

Rebecca had even captioned it as if he were the one writing and posting: It’s at least a paid internship. The words are then followed by a string of hashtags. Well, that just goes to show that you can’t trust corporations’ social media, even if they do try to come across as real and friendly and like a person who could be your friend. Parasocial relationships are dangerous, who knew?

“The likes and comments are coming in fast,” Rebecca says, staring down at the WE phone that Tim had sent down with the filming equipment to use for the WE TikTok. She’s also done more than she needed to with it, downloading other social media and logging into them on her personal profiles. Wes didn’t comment on it, even if he did think it was not the smartest move, but she said it was so she could get away with “studying” current trends easier. 

“It is Wayne Enterprises,” he remarks. “It’d be like if, I dunno, if Superman finally downloaded TikTok. But, like, this is more corporate greed than ‘protecting humanity’ type of thing.”

“That’s true,” she nodded. “But I mean, the Waynes are pretty generous. I make more here than I would anywhere else.”

“Yeah, fair. And paid internships aren’t exactly common, either.” 

Wes wouldn’t admit it, but while he’d given up on proving the Fenton-Phantom conspiracy and other identities, he did still have a bit of a stalking problem. So when Google sent him a news alert about the Waynes making a press statement about the break-in, he immediately hit it to read the article while Rebecca read new comments on TikTok aloud for him to hear. 

The Waynes Speak About Break-in At WE

The article discusses how grateful they were to Batman and his flock for stopping the break-in, even if they hadn’t caught the new villain. Really, it’s just a puff piece about the Princes of Gotham’s perception of the Knights of Gotham. And considering Wes’s insider knowledge, the article comes across as a little condescending and self-praising, and he’s close to exiting the website when a throwaway comment near the end of the article catches his eye, and he reads on. 

VV: And are you at liberty to say what the villain was looking for? Is it something we should have our eyes on?

BW: [laughs] Well, it’s something that has been spoken about before, I believe? I think Tim could tell you more about it than me. He’s definitely got the brains. You know, when he was—

TDW: Haha, thanks, B! I can’t give too much away because the lead scientist on the project, Dr. Michelle Amir, will get upset, but I can say that we’re expecting a breakthrough in renewable energy. 

VV: Are you sure that’s all you can tell us? 

TDW: I’m afraid so. Dr. Amir is very protective of her research.

VV: And it would seem with good reason! It’s a good thing Gotham’s own….

…And the interview returns to preaching the Batfamily’s praises.

Wes has to roll his eyes at the Brucie Wayne persona trying to take every conceivable opportunity to gush about his children. 

Still, he recognizes that the article was published just a few hours after the TikTok started to go viral. Any reports about the WE break-in will be buried under tabloids dissecting the new TikTok profile and what this means for future WE advertisements. Clever, and exactly what he expects from the Bats. 

As he exits the website, a text notification pops up at the top of his screen. It’s from Tucker Foley and all it says is, “YOU!” in all caps. 

He sighs as a rush of other texts hit his phone from his classmates at Casper High, some even including the link to the TikTok. 

And so it begins. 

xxXxx

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[hinasakuino]

Belaud

18+ :) minors & ageless blogs dni, established relationship, Nanami x Reader, Female embodied reader, oral (male & fem receiving), slight dirty talk, reader is referred as baby/princess, Unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare & fluff (they say ily so many times but I’m not apologizing for that) (more notes at the end :) 3.8k words of fluff n smut :)

Nanami celebrates your birthday with you :)

I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t self indulgent 😏

The sound of thunder made your eyes snap open, you sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes and yawning as you glanced at the time. It was almost 10 am, and the rumbling sound of thunder caused you to be more alert. You looked to your right and realized Nanami wasn’t in bed. You got up and walked to the wide windows to survey the sky, stopping to pull on his discarded shirt, you smiled as his scent flooded your senses, the other clothing on the ground a gentle reminder of the actions that took place the night before made you blush just a little bit.

The clear blue sky that greeted you and your Boyfriend yesterday was now replaced with the grey swirls of clouds, and harsh winds.There were small puddles on the ground, the telltale sign of rain letting you know it had already rained at some point last night. You knew there was a chance of more rain today but you were hoping the rain would hold so that you’d be able to enjoy a day at the beach and then a dinner with the love of your life under the stars but it seemed like the weather had other plans, that included souring your mood just a little on one of the happiest days of your life. Your birthday. You sighed and crossed your arms just as a bolt of lightning scattered in the sky. Stepping away from the window you sat down with your phone you began replying to birthday related messages.

“Princess are you awake?” You hear Nanami call from somewhere in the villa. There isn’t a door to the bedroom so you walk out, taking your phone with you and going to find him.

It wasn’t hard to find him, though the villa was big, the smell of food led you to your lover, plating breakfast. With his back turned towards you, shirtless and in his briefs you chuckled at the sight, in awe of him being able to cook a full course without burning himself, it was something you considered a talent.

“Happy birthday baby,” he says softly when you approach the marble island, leaning forward to steal a piece of fruit from the bowl on the tray.

“Thank you babe.” You say sweetly smiling at him, the taste of the blueberry bursts on your tongue and you try to reach for another one your stomach grumbles reminding just how hungry you actually were. Nanami slaps your hand away scolding you jokingly and makes you sit on the stool in front of the island.

He pushes the plate of food in front of you and walks around the counter to press a soft kiss to your forehead and then he wraps an arm around you hugging you tightly.

Your heart swells you have to admit it, you still couldn’t comprehend the fact that Nanami was able to convince you to take a two week vacation to Bali let alone pamper and treat you like a princess the entire time, so far this had been the best birthday ever and you hadn’t even gotten to his gifts.

Before you dive into the food, you snap a picture for the gram which Nanami rolls his eyes at, but you need to show everyone the beautiful spread he’s prepared, scrambled eggs to your liking with turkey bacon, three perfectly round pancakes with strawberry cut up into a heart and dots of whipped cream, with the bowl of fruit.

“You and your pictures,” he mutters, laughing when you pinch him.

“I also want everyone to see how lucky I am to have such an amazing boyfriend slash personal chef.” You say placing your phone down and taking a bite of the turkey bacon.

“Did you go to town or something for this? Or did the kitchen come stocked?” You ask curiously, he takes a sip of his coffee and sits on the stool next to you, you lean into him unconsciously, your body leaning on his warm chest.

“I paid extra for the workers to stock the kitchen.” He admits and you nod and offer him a bite but he declines, taking it upon himself to cut the pancakes in perfect triangles.

“How’d you sleep last night?” He asks, making small talk as he fed you the pancakes.

“Like a baby, that mattress has to come home with us, I was asleep within 5 minutes,” You exclaim.

“Yeah your snoring almost kept me up all night,” he says, making you push his shoulder.

“I do not snore!” You protest but he just chuckles.

“It’s okay princess, everyone snores, it’s perfectly normal especially since you’ve been working non stop. This vacation was much needed.” He stands and places another kiss to your head when you finish the fruit bowl, he places it in the sink and you start working on the eggs.

“Well yeah, bills gotta get paid,” you mutter and he rolls his eyes.

“I’ve said it countless times, if you let me—” he starts but you cut him off.

“Noooo!” You say, waving your hands and shaking your head no.

“Or even if you move in, it would reduce the stress of bills on you and you could focus on school,” he says the last part matter of factly but you ignore him and push your food around on the plate.

“I’d feel terrible if you did any of those things.” You shake your head no again, Kento doesn’t say anything, and a comfortable silence sits between you two. Your phone vibrates signaling a call but you ignore it, focusing your attention to Kento who’s now rubbing your exposed thigh.

“You should answer that.” He says, closer now, he rests his head on your shoulder, his hand moves high, resting on your inner thigh. You shake your head no, finishing up the eggs, you down the apple juice he’s placed on the tray and turn forwards him.

“Seriously, thank you Ken,” You say, your hand rubs his cheeks affectionately and he hums leaning into your touch.

“I wish it wasn’t about to rain,” you say looking at the sky from the large windows in the kitchen.

“I wanted to swim,” Nanami says, sighing. “Since you’re Queen for the day, what shall we do your highness?” He asks, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You sigh and shrug just as you hear the pitter patter of rain coming down.

“Guess Hiking is out of the picture,” you joke. “We can just watch a movie, and if it’s not raining later we can get dinner, but honestly if it rains all day and we don’t get out I’ll be fine, we’re in Bali that’s a good enough gift already.” Nanami makes a noise in disagreement but doesn’t say anything.

“Speaking of gifts though,” He stands and runs to the room, and then comes back with two small bags and three boxes.

“No, I can’t accept that.” You immediately stand but he’s already placed the gifts down and pulls an envelope from behind his back placing it on top of the boxes.

“Go ahead, open them,” he encourages, smiling. So you do, starting with the envelope. Your name is written on the front in Kento’s perfect handwriting. Inside is a pink card with white flowers decorated on the front, you open the card, and read over the short paragraph he’s written inside, smiling as you do.

“This is so sweet Ken, I love you.” You say, a watery smile setting on your face.

“I’m surprised you didn’t just ditch the card and take the gift cards.”

“Please if you’re admitting how madly in love you are with me, I’m going to want to read that first but ooh gift cards?”

You go through the five gift cards, one for a local coffee shop that you go to on your way to work, one for target Nanami laughs when you see the amount, knowing there’s a chance you’d still call him because you went over budget, he knew you loved your shopping and the other three are for makeup and clothing stores.

“Now onto these,” He hands you the bags first. You feel your face heat up as he watches you take the paper out tossing them on the counter.

“Kento! Shut up!” You shout, pulling out a smaller red box, the gold lettering glitters under the lights and you open the box excitedly, squealing when you see the white gold band and matching bracelet. You close the box and hug it to your chest.

“I was saving to buy this,” you say breathlessly looking up at him with tears in your eyes.

“I know, I saw it on your board.” He says, you hold your hand over your heart when he mentions your vision board.

“Check the other box out,” He nudges you and your eyes go wide.

“There’s more?!” You exclaim he nods and smiles watching you pull out two smaller red boxes.

The first box is a matching ring to the bracelet, and the second box is earrings, they look similar to the bracelet and the earrings but the earrings have four four diamonds on the hoops.

You put the gifts on the counter and stand to wrap your arms around his lean frame, he accepts the hug, pulling you closer as you sniffle in his side.

“This is the best birthday ever and I don’t care that it’s raining, I love you so much.” You sob, voice muffled in his chest. You feel him shaking with laughter and look at him.

“You have more to open,” you nod and go to the second bag, doing the same thing with the paper, you laugh, it’s an iPad, he knows you’ve been hanging onto that cracked one at home for years but you were too attached to ever let it go. Alongside the iPad are accessories.

You move on to the boxes, smiling when you see that they’re heels, one pair is black with the gold YSL lettering going down the heel, the second is an open toe Jimmy Choo heel also in black and the last pair is from Jimmy Choo as well, this time in silver.

“Do you like them?” He asks, smiling as you inspect the heels one pair at a time, it doesn’t take you long to try them on, you determine the YSL are the prettiest of them all and begin modeling them for Kento.

“I love them so much. I love you so much, I can’t believe you got these for me,” you stop in front of him, the added height has you eye level with his lips, without warning you press against him, kissing him soft and slowly.

He reciprocates almost immediately, his hands going to your hips pulling you firm to his chest. Your body reacts immediately, you sigh into his kiss, melting in his arms as you let his expert lips take over.

“Mmh.” You break the kiss to catch your breath and look at him through hooded eyes.

“No princess, if we continue then how will we get you to dinner later?” He smirks at your pout and presses his lips to your so softly it has your knees buckling. He chuckles and let’s you go, you fall back lightly on the sofa, still wearing the heels, you trace your foot up Nanami’s bare leg seductively, he stops you before you can reach your foot to his bulge.

“C’mon Princess, don’t be like that, there’s still a secret room you’ve yet to discover,” he smiles as your eyes glint with excitement.

“Okayyyyy, but you have to carry me,” You say jokingling as you get up but without question, Nanami picks you up like you weigh nothing, tossing you over his shoulders and into the bedroom.

******

Unfortunately the rain remained a threat that ruined your birthday dinner plans. Nanami still made it up to you, allowing you to play dress up and take pictures with you to post when you got back from vacation. You decided to keep the last outfit on, a black velvet dress that stopped mid thigh. You still wore the heels he had gotten you, as well as the jewelry and watched as he cooked while music played softly on the speaker.

As if sensing your eyes on him, Nanami looks up from cutting vegetables and smiles.

“Something on your mind beautifu?” He asks, he slides the carrots into the pan and starts working on chopping up potatoes.

“No, I’m just in love right now, the rain might’ve ruined the day but you saved it, and I’m just so grateful for you, I haven’t enjoyed a birthday in so long,” you smile dreamily at him, you don’t miss his face turning a pink shade, as he talks.

“Oh love, I’m happy you’re enjoying yourself,” He wipes his hands on the towel then walks around to give you a kiss, reassuring and sweet, calming any negative thought you were reliving.

“If you keep rubbing me like that I might burn the food,” he says against your ear, you pretend not to hear him and continue running your hand along the length of his already hard dick. It always amazes you how easy it is for you to turn him on.

“Someone once said let it burn,” you tease, giggling when he nip at your ear.

“Soon my love, let me finish dinner, and after that I’m all yours,” he kisses you again this time more passionate and enough to have you squirm in your seat as you feel an ache settling in your cunt. You whine when he pulls away.

“So needy today.” He jokes, he goes back to cutting celery and you pout begging the heavens above to speed up time.

*****

Full on love and food you find yourself undressing into your swim suit, the rain had stopped, the sun was setting and you were going to spend a romantic evening in the hot tub with your lover it was almost too perfect of a way to end your day.

Nanami watches you from the sliding door, and you make it a point to tie the bathing suit bottoms slowly so that he could get a glimpse of your ass knowing it would be the first thing he’d rip off of you. You do the same with the bikini top, adjusting the triangles so they covered your nipples. When you were done putting on a show for him, you skipped happily out of the door and dipped a toe into the water. It was warm and inviting, Nanami helps you in, though the hot tub is spacious, he pulls you to his lap.

You’re on him immediately kissing a path from his collarbone to his neck, careful not to go crazy with marking him.

His hands grope the fleshy part of your ass and push you down on his erection, you moan against his neck, he was finally giving you want you wanted.

“Ken,” you breathe against his ear, a groan escapes his lips, and he lets his hands wander to grab one of your tits, he easily bypasses the swimming top and pulls at your nipple loving the way you gasp against him. You try to keep up with him, tugging the back of his hair just like he likes but fail miserably when he sucks your nupple into his moth, expert tongue rolling and licking the bud until you’re whining against him.

“Ken please,” you moan, he lets out a throaty chuckle and raises his head.

“What’s up princess?” He asks, sucking a love bite to your shoulder.

“Touch me please,” you beg, you meet his lips, kissing hungrily, devouring his taste, he matches your pace, a hand slots in the back of your hair tugging you back so that he controls the kiss, his tongue slips past your own, relishing in your taste.

Nanami breaks the kiss, he’s not against hot tub sex but he thinks of you far too precious to be taken in a place many others have done it. You protest when he makes you stand, he steps out first so you don’t miss the tent his dick makes in his swim trunks, he offers you a hand, practically yanking you out of the hot tub and back into the room.

You’re in sync, taking off his swim trunks just as he unties your top, before he can stop you, you sink to your knees and kiss across his abdomen, then the patch of smooth skin above his cock.

“Princess, you don’t have to,” Kento starts but you’re already kissing the tip of his dick, silencing the words in his throat. You smile at him mischievously, before incorporating your hands, you palm his balls, and spit on his cock, running a hand up and down his length slowly, he moans loudly, his hands lifting and going back to his side as if he wants to touch you but can’t.

You suck the tip in, and grab one of his hands to press to the back of your head, he lets out a shaky breath and pushes your head down his length, stopping when he hears you gag, you go further, wanting to please Kento.

“Just like that baby girl,” he huffs out, you bob your head up and down, making sure to deep throat him everytime you take him back in your mouth. He sighs and gathers your hair in one hand, and holds your jaw, he pumps his cock in your mouth slowly watching as your eyes pool with tears. He grunts when he feels himself in your throat, your throat constricts just a bit making his legs shake and he pulls away letting the head of his cock rest against your lips. You plant open mouth kisses on him until he’s pushing you back, and then pulling you up.

“Bed now,” he huffs, you chuckle but climb up lazily, laughing fully when Nanami pushes you flat on your stomach. His hands caress your thighs, then your ass, he stops to pull your bottom up, making your arch your back for him.

“So pretty,” he mumbles, you feel his breath fanning over your exposed backside, you hide your face in your hands when you feel him trace your sex with his finger, the wet bottoms sticking uncomfortably to you. You whine and kick your foot at his teasing, he simply slaps your ass leaving a sting to ripple through the cheek.

“Behave.” He says in warning, and unties your bikini bottom just as slowly as you tied them up and when he finally takes them off you thrust back inviting him to take you.

He kisses your cunt, so soft and warm, you feel a gush of wetness sticky between your thighs, that he licks up with no problem, he moans into your pussy, the vibrations go straight to your clit and you can’t stop yourself when you reach behind to push his face further into you cunt, it’s what he wants you to do, he loves letting you take your pleasure from him just as much as he loves giving you pleasure.

“Ken, please,” your whine is muffled by the pillow but he obliges you, licking into your velvet walls, suckling on your puffy clit and tracing a finger teasingly down your slit.

He slips his finger in, and you shudder, the ache in your cunt finally being relieved, he can’t help smirking as he watches you come undone just from one finger.

When he feels your pussy squeezing tightly, he groans, and needs to be inside you, you whine at the loss of his finger but quickly moan when you feel him pressing the head of his dick into your wetness.

“Fuck princess you’re always so tight for me,” He groans, your pussy is hypnotizing to him, pulling him in, squeezing perfectly around his dick he groans.

“It feels so good Ken, so good baby,” you moan, you push your hips back to meet his thrust, he grips both of your hips and moves you up and down his length until your muffled cries turn into long drawn out moans and sobs of curses mixed with his name.

He reaches around, his hand finds your puffy clit, aching and needy as he pounds into you.

“Ken baby that feels so good, I’m gonna cum,” you warn, your hips buck backwards you fit so perfectly under him, and the way you’re squeezing his cock has him teetering on the edge of cumming but he refuses, wanting to feel your pussy milk his cock first.

“That’s it baby, give it to me, you wanna be a good girl for me baby?” He taunts, his words going straight to your core. You whimper but nod, you feel that first wave of your orgasm pushing you over the brink, you close your eyes tightly, your hand grips Kento’s arm as you try to stop him from overstimulating you but he doesn’t stop, instead he plows into you faster, chasing his own relief, he grunts loudly, and you feel his cock jumping in you, warm liquid fills your cunt you can feel the mixture leaking out of you.

Nanami falls on your back, covering you fully. You stretch as much as you can and feel yourself relaxing as he kiddies the back of your neck and shoulders.

“Happy birthday princess.” He kisses your temple and smiles when you push him. You whimper when he pulls out, the loss of his cock in you leaves you throbbing, you smile guiltily at him as he pulls you in for a hug, you stop him with a hand on his shoulder and climb in his lap.

“Already baby?” He asks and you smile, nodding as you align his cock with your entrance, you sink down slowly smirking at the way he throws his head back.

“You’re insatiable.” He groans, squeezing your hips as you bring yourself up and back down creating a slow bouncing rhythm. He’s sensitive, you can tell from the way he bites his bottom lip, but he’s also close to another orgasm so he lets you ride him until you’re both cumming, he holds you down and thrusts his hips up, pushing his cum deep inside.

It’s almost 1am when you’re finally unable to move, Kento has to carry you to the tub, let’s the warm water unravel the knots of tension in your back, he does give you one more orgasm and it’s so sudden that you cling to him in the waters, seeing stars afterwards.

“No more please,” you mumble into his chests, he laughs as he drags the loofah across your back.

“Okay no more,” he agrees.

You let him continue washing you off, you’re pretty much dead to the world when he transfers you to the bed, but you do hear when he whispers how much he loves you before you doze off to sleep.

[a-strange-echo]

My only star

Pairing: Umbrella!Ben Hargreeves x gn!reader

Word Count: 1269

Summary: During your nightly meeting, Ben wants to tell you something important, little did he know, you also have something important to tell him but you're sure he won't like it.

Warnings: a little angst but fluff in the end, mention of abuse (thanks Reginald). Beta read (for once)

Author's note: I noticed it's been a while since I posted something and I just finished watching The Umbrella Academy for the second time so I just had to write something for our favorite Benny boy. It's sort of a fix-it fic but not entirely; also I might write a little piece that comes after the events of this fic if anyone is interested. As always: English is not my first language, tell me if you see any mistake, I will correct them.

It wasn’t the first time Ben slipped out of his window to escape in the middle of the night but this time it felt different. He couldn’t really explain it, maybe it was the fact he was more determined than ever to tell his best friend what he had been dying to say for years or maybe it was simply the fact he would be able to see them after a long time. Whatever it was, Ben was sure nothing could wipe the smile of his face tonight. Except perhaps the news his best friend was about to deliver to him; although he didn’t know that yet.

He found them sitting on the edge of the roof, legs dangling above the void, head turned up toward the sky as they watched the stars, waiting for him. Ben felt his heart skip a beat. The way the light of the moon and the stars shone on their face gave them an ethereal glow; it made them look like an angel. An angel made of starlight, Ben thought. He was almost convinced they truly where one in this moment. He approached as quietly as he could, not wanting to disturbed them and whatever thought were swimming in their head. Now closer, Ben could see the reflexion of the stars in their eyes and he swore they never shone brighter.

"-Careful starlight, don’t want you to fall." Ben whispered as he put his hands under their arms to pull them back a little, distancing them from the edge.

"-Hi Benny." Y/N responded, voice small.

As he sat next to them, Ben realized their eyes were shining brighter than usual because they were wet with tears. Worry immediately seized him.

"-Are you okay, baby?"

"-Yes, I just have something to tell you." they sounded so serious and he didn’t like it; it wasn’t like them to be so serious.

"-I too have something to tell you"» he tried to cheer them up with a smile but it came out small and worried.

"-I think it’s better if you go first." Y/N said, wiping their tears out of their eyes.

"-You sure" he was nervous and he knew Y/N could tell.

"-Yes." They took his hand in theirs and placed them on their lap.

Ben took a deep breath before exhaling slowly, trying to calm his nerves.

"-Y/N, we’ve known each other a long time now and-" as he raised his eyes to meet theirs, the words died on his tongue. Their bright eyes were fixated on him and his mind went blank, any sentence of the big speech he prepared disappeared of his head. "I love you." he finally sighed with heart-eyes, hoping his eyes could translate everything he felt for them, "so much." he added after a short pause.

It was quiet only for a few seconds but it felt like an eternity for both of them, until Y/N pulled their hands out of Ben’s and covered their face with them, muttering under their breath.

"-I should have went first." Y/N said more to themselves.

"-Why? You don’t love me the same?" Ben asked, now completely scared and a little hurt.

"-No! No, no..." Y/N panicked then saw how Ben leaned away from them, body closing on himself and panicked even more. "Wait, no. I-" they took a breath in. "I do love you Ben, believe me I do with my whole being and if love could be burned, I swear my love for you would be the only thing making the stars in the sky shine."

Ben blushed a little upon hearing these words and his heart skipped a beat again. He will have a heart attack because of them one day, he’s sure of it.

"-Then what’s wrong, baby?" he placed a hand on their cheek and smiled softly when they cupped his hand with theirs and leaned in it, closing their eyes.

"-I’m leaving." they managed to get out through a cracking voice. "I found the job I’ve always wanted but it’s in another city, far from here."

"-That’s awesome!" he tried to sound as excited as he could at the moment, their last words still echoing in his head. "Now you can do what you love, what you’ve always wanted to do."

"-I know but I don’t want to leave you here, any of you actually. I don’t want to go knowing that I’m leaving you behind to endure Reginald’s abuse; knowing that I won’t be able to comfort you after a mission. I know how much you hate using your power and how much it affects you, I don’t want to know I’m leaving you to suffer alone while I’m out there, doing something I love."

"-Ho, darling. Come here." Ben said as he pulled them in a hug. He pulled them on his lap, holding them as close as he could. "You always had a heart too big for your body."

"-I’m so sorry, Benny." Y/N cried, burying their head in Ben’s neck.

"-Hey, it’s okay, I’m not mad." he smiled. "When are you leaving?"

"-In a few months, I still need to find a place to live."

"-Okay, so that leaves us enough time to part ways properly." Ben smiled in their face.

"-I guess so." Y/N smiled too before leaning closer.

Ben’s eyes dipped to their lips, his tongue coming out to lick his own. When their lips finally made contact, there was no fireworks or butterflies in their stomach. All there were was a feeling of belonging, like they belong together, but it also felt right, as if it was meant to be, they were made for each other. This kiss was like coming home after years of absence.

"-It will be okay, Y/N, I promise." Ben said when they parted, a smile playing on his lips that he just licked.

"-I’ll find a way to get you out of here. And all of your siblings if I could but you come first."

Ben wanted to say that they didn’t have to do that but he wouldn’t just let go an opportunity of leaving this hell hole. He wanted to get out as fast as he could, even bring his siblings with him if he could but he knew he couldn’t.

"-Try to fit in Klaus, he needs it more than anyone else I think. And Vanya too."

"-You, Ben Hargreeves, are way too sweet for this world." Y/N had a teasing smile on but they meant every word of it. "I’ll get you out first and I’ll see for the others later." They said as they got up, pulling Ben up with them, the time they had together coming to an end. They never had enough time together in their opinion.

"-I’ll see you tomorrow?" Ben said but it sounded more like a question.

"-Of course, wouldn’t miss an opportunity to see my boyfriend." they winked, squeezing Ben’s hands as they had yet to release them.

Ben grinned and dropped his head, trying to hide his blush upon hearing what they called him.

"-I technically didn’t ask you that yet." He responded.

"-Well I’ll do it.» Y/N grinned. "Ben Hargreeves, will you do me the honour of being my boyfriend?"

"-I will." he said, leaning his forehead on theirs.

Y/N giggled before closing their eyes and basking in the moment with their boyfriend, enjoying the simple feeling of having him so close.

"-Goodnight, Benny, I love you." Y/N said before parting from the boy.

"-I love you too, darling, goodnight." he smiled, his fingers lingering in Y/N's hand as they retreated.

[ihatecoconut]

Missing Scene - Once and For All

Read on AO3!

There’s something soft in the way Katherine takes his hand, pulls him back towards the ladder, but there’s also a barely contained glee in the way she moves, her other hand still clutching her notebook.

He’s halfway down the ladder before he thinks to ask. “Where are we goin’?”

“To find the others – Davey, Race, Spot. I think they might have taken some others with them, I’m not sure, I came looking for you.”

“Ah.” They reach the bottom of the ladder and she holds out a hand to help him down, like he’s the lady and she’s his guy. “What… what happened? After I left?”

“After you walked out, you mean?”

She doesn’t let go of his hand as they begin to navigate the streets, instead tucking her own into his elbow. It puts his arm at a weird angle, but he can’t be bothered to care.

“Sure. After I walked out.”

“Spot demanded that everyone vote, but it kind of fell apart. All of Brooklyn voted to strike, though.”

“Huh.”

She hums. “Davey was trying to get everything back under control,” she pauses, and he can feel her eyes on the side of his face, “he was convinced there was a misunderstanding, just wanted time to work it out.”

He sucks in a breath and says nothing. Was.

“He really believes in you, you know.”

“Well, that makes two of you.”

He’s expecting anger, shouting, accusations, and somehow the utter silence he is instead greeted with is disconcerting to say the least.

Davey, Spot, Race, and some of his own boys are gathered around a table, most likely discussing the next move, although most of the Manhattan boys clear out as he and Kath walk in.

She lets go of his arm almost immediately, moving instead to Davey’s side and putting a gentle hand on his arm. Gentle, but there’s a tension there that suggests she’s ready to stop him from doing anything rash.

No one says anything. Jack is left alone in the doorway, all eyes on him, feeling more exposed than ever before.

“What do you want?” Davey asks, turning away again. “We’re a little busy tryna’ run a union here.”

“Davey,” Kath whispers, “just give him a chance to explain himself, yeah?”

Davey waves his hands, like he’s inviting Jack to get it all out in the open, but the sight of his back, of Race and Spot both watching him out the corner of their eyes, stifles any words he might have had.

“Yeah. Some explanation.”

“Pulitzer threatened you.” He blurts out, the words coming like a confession. “You and Les, he said he’d take you both away, lock you up in the refuge.”

Kath already knew that, but he watches the line of Davey’s shoulders tense up again, and sees Race and Spot exchange a glance.

He swallows, hard. “They… Snyder was there, the Mayor too, they…”

“They were threatening a raid on the rally,” Kath finishes quietly, and whatever warmth her presence already brought doubles at the way she can read him so easily.

“And the money?” Davey asks, the line of his shoulders still tense.

“I don’t care about his goddamn money, I never wanted it, I just wanted the reassurance that they were gonna leave you alone and… well, and then I thought I might as well leave since…”

“Since we wouldn’t want you around?” Davey finishes, finally turning back to face him. “Jack…”

“Kath has a plan,” he continues, quickly, quick enough that the urge to go to him, wrap him in a hug and never let go couldn’t quite form itself, “we spoke…”

“Oh yeah,” Spot mutters, “I bet you talked a whole lot,”

Her implication is kind of undermined by the fact that she had been leaning on Race’s chair the entire time, swaying in so close her weight is practically on one of his shoulders.

“Yes!” Kath continues, ignoring Spot and picking up the thread of the plan. “We want to print this,” she pulls out the notebook and holds it up.

Davey steps closer to her, impressive since they were practically shoulder to shoulder already and puts his hand over hers, leaning in to read the writing. It should spark something jealous in Jack, that the girl he loves is so close to another man, but the only thing it sparks is a feeling of relief, of rightness, that this is how everything should be.

“It’s good, Kath,”

She smiles, a little self-conscious. “Most of the words are Jack’s.”

“Modesty,” Jack finds himself saying, a playful mockery of her words only a few days earlier, “is not a quality I would have pinned on you.”

She side-eyes him, but she’s smiling.

“Great.” Spot says. “And where, exactly, are you proposing we print this?”

Kath nods, bouncing on her toes. “Yes! We were talking about this, and I think Jack knows the one printing press in town my father doesn’t control.”

“Your what?”

Ah. Right.

“How do you know what Pulitzer was proposing?” Spot adds, finally moving off of Race to come round and stare at Kath. “You said he had those people in his office, was planning a raid. How’s you know that?”

“Right, uh. My um, my byline, the name I publish under is Katherine Plumber.”

Davey and Race were staring at her like she’d grown two heads.

“My actual name is, um, Katherine Pulitzer… I’m… he’s my father.”

“Holy shit.” Race offers. “I did not see that coming.”

“Yeah, sorry, I probably should have told everyone sooner…”

Davey sighs, loudly, rubs at his forehead. “Anything else? Any other random, unexpected truths people want to drop?”

“Spot an’ I are going out.”

Jack stifles a laugh. “He said unexpected, Racer.”

And just like that, the tension in the room is broken, the uncomfortable blanket that had settled vanishes and it’s just the five of them again.

“You can get us a printing press?” Davey asks, “to print this?”

“And people to print it,”

“Well, shit. I guess we’re doing this.”

Kath squeezes his hand, even as she turns to Jack, “Meet me outside the distribution yard? I can get us into the basement from there.”

He nods. “Racer, you wanna go wake up the fellas? I think we’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

Day 8: Sensory Deprivation

(Disclaimer: neither of the characters in this story belong to me. Both Phantom and Bones are the property of Nathan Sharp/Give Heart Productions.)

(Trigger Warnings: implications of illegal business, implied chronic pain, mentions of death/dying, descriptions of water/floating, skin-flaying, exposed bones, blood, similarities to an out-of-body experience, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6 Day 7 Day 9 Day 10 Day 11 Day 12 Day 13

Out of habit, Bones cracked his knuckles as he wandered down the hall. 

He had no idea why he’d developed aforementioned habit; it wasn’t exactly uncommon for his joints to crack with enough volume that you’d expect them to start glowing in the dark. Then again, he’d had more than enough time to learn how to tune out those noises. Even when he found himself in areas that managed to be eerily quiet.

Like this one, for instance. 

A decent amount of time had passed since coworkers and customers alike had vacated the club. All the lights had been turned off. Now, had Bones still been fully alive, that would’ve caused problems (mainly him getting an excuse to fuck up someone else’s night due to tripping over the decor a few too many times). However, Bones was not fully alive. Death was strange—yes, it took a lot of things away, but for whatever reason, it also ended up having a few things to give. 

Not like that made it any better, mind you. 

Having supernaturally heightened senses didn’t make up for having fragmented memories, for having to operate under a nasty mixture of exhaustion and restlessness, for having to know that you’re part of the proof that something is fundamentally wrong with the world—

“Boooones,” a familiar voice called from elsewhere in the building. “While I always appreciate lurking for dramatic effect, I don’t have all night.” 

“. . .Yeah, because you’ve never taken your sweet damn time on things,” Bones snapped back, knowing that his terse tone wouldn’t hide how he’d flinched. 

“Touch’e, but that’s only when I know I can get away with it,” Phantom replied, sounding much closer than he actually was. “C’mon, you’re gonna want to see this.” 

Bones rolled his eyes, but still turned on his heel and started traipsing in the direction of the sound. “Sure I am.”

  Despite there still being a few good employers out there, any relationship between worker and boss would always be just a tad strange. Especially if the boss in question was an outer monstrosity in disguise.

While Bones didn’t exactly fear Phantom—as a revenant, Bones was typically one to be feared—he still knew better than to just let his guard down around him. He wasn’t about to try calling himself a saint, but seeing some of the things Phantom had done to “take care of business” made him a bit relieved that he couldn’t sleep anymore. Other times, Phantom’s eccentricities just got on his nerves.

Bones knew things could’ve been much, much worse. Yeah, it was a complete and total bitch to have hollow pain thriving inside him like a colony of parasites, but part of him still understood that he was making the best of his circumstances. 

Eventually, Bones found himself behind the bar counter, facing the huge cabinet that had been built into the entire fourth wall of this room. He paused, having to dig through the duffel bag of stuff he’d been instructed to bring tonight. It only took a few muttered profanities to convince said bag to let him fish out a silver key: its bow was adorned by a picture of a flower with an eyeball in the center of its petals.

Bones ran his fingers along the bottom of the center shelf, quickly finding a well-hidden hole that the key’s biting cuts fit perfectly into. A loud CLACK rang through the empty room as he turned the key to one side, prompting the cabinet to perform an amateur recreation of The Red Sea. The organized collection of bottles rattled on their shelves, but not a single one went shattering to the floor. 

Bones hovered in the familiar, freshly-revealed hollow doorway. It wasn’t imposing to him; he’d done this at least a hundred times by now. This hidden staircase was just so fucking steep. He knew for an absolute certainty that it would be impossible to run up or down it without tripping on one step and bashing your head against another. 

Dull pain flared around his ankles and raced up to his kneecaps. Bones ground his jaw, putting a deathgrip on the railway as he began descending. The halves of the cabinet reconnected behind him, but that didn’t leave him in total darkness. Colorful light flickered at the bottom of the stairs, casting shadows that danced similarly to those of a fire. They seemed to be trying to reach up along the steps. . .

Though he didn’t stop walking, Bones felt his hackles raise. They didn’t lower when he realized that soft music was slithering into the air. 

The club’s basement was in a state of functional chaos. Chests and crates that came in a plethora of sizes almost outlined the room, stacked on top of one another and pushed up against the walls. It always felt like there was a different amount each time Bones had to venture down here. (It also wasn’t one of Bones’ responsibilities to keep track of them all. He’d already learned the hard way that you couldn’t just open them.) 

He immediately discovered Phantom in the center of the room, his trademark claw-handled cane softly thudding against the floor as he paced around. . .something.

The unfamiliar object seemed to be eight feet long and four feet wide. It was coated in a silver finish, shaped similarly to a snake’s egg. The top half of it hung in the air, supported by simple hinges on either side. It glowed from the inside with that same color-shifting light. It was the source of the music, too. Bones’ instincts told him that those gentle notes were being produced by whatever was in there. Like a monster’s voice echoing from the bottom of a well. 

“What the hell is that supposed to be?” Bones called, feeling his brow furrow as he loomed by the foot of the stairs. 

Phantom came to a halt on one side of the glowing object, turning his head to offer a cryptic smile. “I sent a message about having something in store for you earlier this week, didn’t I?”

“The novel-text you sent me was just rambling about how I needed to keep your clients in line because you’d be busy rearranging the reality in this part of the building,” Bones replied pointedly. 

Phantom clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “This is a sensory deprivation tank. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard about them by now.”

“I have,” Bones argued, “but unless you’ve cooked up some weird plan to turn this place into a spa, I’m not sure why we suddenly need one.”

Phantom beckoned Bones to come closer. “I mean, what we calculated as your deathday is coming up.” His grin slightly widened to showcase how his teeth were slowly but surely becoming sharper. “And I’d be a real jackass if I didn’t get you a present, right?”

Bones scoffed as he wandered over, hoping his aggravation would mask his reluctance. He made sure to keep some distance from Phantom, standing by the opposite side of the tank. “Not like that would stop you from being a jackass every other day.”

“Meh, fair point,” Phantom confessed. “But don’t worry, I won’t say I told you so after you see how great this thing is.” He reached up to pat the tank’s lid as though it was the hood of some snazzy car. This helped Bones finally realize that the tank’s exterior wasn’t smooth. Rather, it was covered in symbols that looked like animalistic mouths and eyes. He couldn’t tell whether they’d been carved into or sculpted onto the original material.

Before he could stop himself, Bones peered at the tank’s interior.

His stomach immediately sank. 

The color wasn’t beaming from a light further inside. No, the tank’s liquid itself glimmered. If you didn’t know any better, you might’ve assumed that a bunch of bathbombs had just dissolved in there (and that the combination of all their colors miraculously wasn’t reduced to some ugly shade of brown). 

The liquid also looked fresh,  clean. And while that wouldn’t be something to complain about. . .it meant that Bones could see the bottom of the tank. The longer he stared, the more the tank just seemed to keep going down, down, down into a gaping black pit. Even with how far away it appeared, it still looked so much larger than the tank itself. 

“Pretty sure these things are only supposed to hold ten inches of water,” he muttered, unable to take his eyes away from the hole. 

“First of all, the stuff in there isn’t water,” Phantom casually mentioned. “Second of all, that capacity is only the standard for the tanks that humans use.”

Bones’ neck gave a sickening cRiIiCk as he turned his head to stare at Phantom. “. . .If that stuff isn’t water, then what the fuck is it?”

Phantom shrugged. “Not important.”

“I’m inCLINED TO DISAGREE.” 

“There’s no hydrochloric acid in the elixir,” Phantom tried. At the way Bones snarled, he continued, “And even if there was, you know it wouldn’t kill you.” 

“That doesn’t mean it couldn’t hurt me in a way that might make my limbo even worse!”

“I never said anything about hurting.” Phantom sighed. “Look, as much as I’d love to infodump, I literally can’t tell you how I managed to whip it up. It’s just one of those types of knowledge that only certain species can process.”

“Oh, so you think calling me an idiot in a roundabout way is just gonna reassure me?!”

“Hey.” Phantom growled, a newly-forked tongue flicking out of his mouth. His voice seemed to grow, as the air now shook when he spoke. “It’s not my fault that so much shit doesn’t make sense. I didn’t write the rules for these kinds of things. I could’ve used the past few days and nights to get plenty of other shit done, but instead, I focused on building this because I wanted to try and help you out.” He took a single step forward, thin columns of smoke beginning to drift out of his eyes. “So don’t put any fucking words in my mouth, alright?”

Bones’ mouth opened and closed with nothing coming out. While the eye-vapor didn’t actually float near him, the smell still had quite a bite to it. Not to mention how it made his throat feel like sandpaper. He subconsciously straightened his back, though he was still stubborn enough to keep grimacing. He dipped his head for just a second or two to get the point across: Fine, I get it, you can stop emitting surreal dread now. 

Phantom responded with a short, low hum. The smoke stopped pouring as he blinked. “Anyway,” he pronounced. “There’s a reason sensory deprivation therapy is such a hot topic. Several reasons, in fact: at first, it was thought to just help with psychological problems. Now, it’s been proven to have plenty of physical benefits, too.” 

“Thanks for the reminder that I have a lot of problems in general,” Bones snorted. “But like you just said: that stuff applies to tanks made for humans. So what does that mean for this tank?”

“It means,” Phantom replied, exasperation seeping into his mischievous calm, “that this tank will work even better than the ones made for humans. Because I’ve designed it to give its user an experience that human bodies can’t handle.”

“It’s kinda impossible to list all the things humans can’t handle.” Bones glanced back down into the tank. The dark cavity at the bottom seemed to be stirring the liquid all around it. The odd, subtle movement almost resembled breathing. 

And yet. . .a voice in his rotten mind started begging him to touch the elixir, to dive into the tank headfirst. Another voice popped up, snidely quoting, This is my hole! It was made for me! (It made more sense than the vibes the tank was giving off, since manga was one of the few things that actually didn’t frustrate Bones these days.)

“What makes this experience so special?” Bones inquired before any vague euphemisms could barge their way into the strange compulsion.

“That’s something you’ll have to find out yourself,” Phantom answered. “I’ve already given it a test run, but I’m pretty sure it can’t have the exact same effect on whoever else uses it.” 

“Wow. That’s not concerning at all. This sounds so damn promising,” Bones deadpanned. 

“Oh, c’mon! It’s functioning safely!” Phantom contended, slightly throwing up his arms. “Think, Bones: you’re my right-hand. Why would I want to hurt one of the most capable people on my payroll?” 

“Why are you obsessed with harvesting the souls of your contractors?” Bones retorted. “You pretty much never have a reason to do something, but that doesn’t exactly stop you.” 

“You’re just complimenting my work ethic, y’know,” Phantom smirked. 

Bones huffed an agitated sigh, feeling the bags under his eyes actively grow wider and darker. A splintery sensation stabbed into his brain (a tiny part of his skull had probably tried to cave in).  

Phantom tilted his head, taking a few steps closer. “Look, this isn’t getting us anywhere. Don’t you remember the voodoo dolls we started selling last year?”

“How could I forget?” Bones murmured, holding back a shudder at the images of Phantom’s body contorting in time with that first test doll. 

“Well, those have proven to be pretty good painkillers for you, right?”

“. . .Right,” Bones relented. 

Phantom nodded. “That’s what this tank is meant to be. Another type of painkiller for you.” By now, his demeanor had returned to its usual levels of smug and shit-eating. But Bones was quick to spot something else in Phantom’s eyes. He didn’t know what it was, but it didn’t seem malevolent. “I’ve adjusted the tank’s settings; your session will only be fifteen minutes long. Plenty of time for you to see how you like it without feeling trapped. Just try it out, okay?”

Bones felt his lip start to bleed before he’d even began chewing it. He paced around the tank, inspecting every part of it that was in eyeshot. There was no lock on the top half, no hidden compartments anywhere. The only parts of it that didn’t look normal were its depth and that chasm. . .

Then again, Phantom was a chaos deity. Bones was the living dead. Normal wasn’t really an option for anything that involved either of them.

“Fine,” Bones eventually proclaimed. “But if this does end up doing something I don’t like—”

“There’s only so much you can do to me, and even that won’t stick,”  Phantom interjected, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

As he spun his cane in his hands, his skin started burning from the inside. . .Well, it quickly ended up burning on the outside, too, since flames erupted from his eyes and mouth. The fire enveloped Phantom, then spent the next few seconds coiling around in the air. At least twenty eyes stared at Bones. Bones stared right back, folding his arms across his chest. Leave it to Phantom to go apeshit with dramatic exits. 

The monstrous display surged up through the ceiling, leaving an assortment of blisters to spread along the paint. Even after it completely vanished, that still didn’t stop Phantom from calling, “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”  

And with that, Bones was suddenly alone in the club’s basement. His ears rang as he paced a few more laps around the tank, still searching for any threats. Or, his ears tried to ring, at least. That soft music crawled through the tank’s liquid and up into the air. He still had no idea what could be producing it, but he couldn’t deny how...grounding it felt. 

Having cameras down here would’ve just been a complete idiot-move on Phantom’s part. Still, Bones retreated to the darkest corner of the basement, dragging his duffel bag along. A couple minutes passed before he trudged back over, letting the tank’s glow stretch over him and the bleach-dye trunks he was now wearing. 

Bones stood before the tank, pursing his lips, giving it one more tense stare. When the tank failed to reveal itself to be a mimic or spontaneously combust, he carefully lowered himself to sit on the lower rim. He instinctively grit his teeth, bracing himself as his feet dropped into the elixir with a soft splash. 

He didn’t touch the bottom of the tank, obviously. The elixir seemed to softly churn around his legs. It felt. . .just like water. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t hot, either. Bones gave a few experimental kicks. Ripples were sent shivering throughout the tank, but that was pretty much it. It didn’t start boiling. No swarms of piranhas manifested. 

After a few more seconds, Bones finally barked a resounding, “Fuck it.” He reached up to grab hold of the tank’s top half, pulling it closed over him as he pushed himself off the rim. 

Due to no longer needing air in his lungs, Bones didn’t automatically float like a human would. Despite all the things he’d forgotten about his former life, the basic necessity of swimming clung to his mind like a stubborn leech. He stared down at the chasm so far beneath him. The chasm stared right back, not really contributing unless you counted whatever creature could potentially be lurking in its darkness.

The music got a bit louder, now that it was more contained, but it somehow didn’t bounce along the tank’s ceiling. 

Curiosity wormed its way into Bones’ paranoia. He swam a few laps around the tank’s perimeter, still testing, still waiting. The thought of circling like a shark made him feel a bit more secure, a bit more in control. 

Even so, he eventually got bored of it. 

If he wanted to see what this tank could actually do for him, then he’d have to stay relatively still.

So, Bones paddled into the center of the elixir. 

He maneuvered himself onto his back, letting his arms unfurl and reach toward nothing. 

He let his head roll back. And as he felt the elixir filter into his hair and creep around the corners of his face. . .he realized how the music felt solid. Tangible. 

As though it and the elixir’s ever-changing color were part of a living mass. 

Bones swallowed a lump in his throat. He’d sink if he stayed like this, but he wouldn’t drown. He could always just swim back up to the surface. 

His dry, sore eyes drifted shut as the elixir washed over his skin. He just barely felt the cool air disappear. 

But his vision didn’t turn black. He could still see the colors of the elixir.

As a matter of fact, he saw a blurry shape somewhere in the tank. 

Bones immediately wanted to panic, to start thrashing his way up to the surface. He wanted to, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. All he could do was listen to the music and watch the shape as it got closer and clearer. . .

Bones’ mind didn’t turn blank when he realized that the shape was himself, that he was somehow looking down on his own body as it kept capsizing. At first, his anger and fear threatened to make his head explode (mainly to spite Phantom, since having to clean bits of brain and skull out of the tank would not be very fun). It felt like at least an hour had passed before confusion finally attempted to take center-stage. Though he saw his eyes refuse to open, he also saw himself grind his jaw, saw himself carefully wave his arms. 

Bones was still in control. He was just. . .having to watch. 

He expected his spine to take the drifting as an excuse to contort. He expected his lungs to shake with a chorus of awful snaps and pops. He expected his abdomen to start bloating like that of an actual drowning victim. 

Nothing like that happened.

The music wasn’t letting any of those things happen. 

The music didn’t give him a chance to start questioning what this meant.

The 

Music 

Was

The

Only

Thing

He

Could

Feel 

There was no pain or panic as the music actively crept into Bones’ head. It was lapping at his skull, oozing down his spine, spreading along his ribcage. 

The numbness was, miraculously enough, a good kind of numbness. 

Bones wanted to swim, to move along in time with the music’s notes. But the music told him that he needed to stay still right now, that things would be easier if he did. So, he obeyed.

The elixir must have wanted to obey the music, too. Because, right as Bones’ body got within five feet of the chasm. . .he stopped sinking. 

The thought of opening his eyes barely even occurred to him. He could still see himself. And even if he couldn’t, he was still listening to the music. As long as the music kept playing, nothing bad would happen. He was sure of that. 

The elixir began to churn, but Bones remained perfectly still. 

Thin lacerations began opening up on his skin. They started at his fingers, then proceeded to grow longer and longer. They stretched over his hands, up his arms, around his neck, over his face and chest. (This wasn’t really anything new, but for the very first time, there was no stinging sensation for Bones to wince or hiss at.)

The spreading cuts grew deeper and deeper, prompting Bones’ blood to begin seeping out and leaving misty trails in the elixir. It almost looked black against all the colors. It didn’t drift up to the surface. Instead, the blood glided around Bones like a school of tiny fish. 

Once the gashes managed to carve themselves over every square-inch of his body, now resembling a network of tree roots, Bones’ skin began to twitch. Almost like a hangnail, a corner of skin lifted away from the tip of Bones’ index finger. That particular strand became longer and wider as it continued peeling itself off in a spiral. This set off a chain reaction: more and more sections of flesh shivered as they detached. Blood was now spilling out in clouds that nearly hid the entire scene. 

But Bones could still see everything. 

Threads of skin started slithering off of his face. Even as his eyes were forced open due to their lids peeling away, his perspective didn’t change. 

The music was still keeping him company, so he didn’t start thrashing or screaming.

It took a little over five minutes for his skeleton and organs to be rendered bare. His blood continued circling around him in a lazy whirlpool, but his skin apparently had other ideas. One by one, the fleshy strands moved downward, wavering like eels as they vanished into the darkness of the chasm. 

Bones almost felt like he was asleep. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually slept.

Had his heart just twitched? Were his intestines shuffling? 

He couldn’t be sure, because as he kept staring, the gore slowly grew blurrier, fading in and out of eyeshot. . .

Far too quickly, the music came to a halt. The new silence only lasted for a second or two. Then, a low, buzzing alarm droned into Bones’ ears.  

A loud gasp tore its way from Bones’ throat as he sat up, kicking his legs and thrashing his arms. He blinked, watching as the tank’s lid drifted open above him with a soft, electronic hummmm.

Air collided against his skin, feeling cool considering how he was soaked in the elixir. 

Bones froze, immediately reaching up to touch his face and neck, craning his neck to look at his torso. All of his skin had returned to its rightful place. One top of that. . .he couldn’t see any bruises or scabs or leaking cuts. 

The pleasant numbness was gone. He scowled; a headache was just starting to blossom beneath the bridge of his nose. 

But it wasn’t on-par with a migraine. 

In fact, it was nearly overshadowed by how. . .clean Bones was now realizing he felt. 

He didn’t feel healthy (he was dead, after all), but the feeling of a hot shower and a deep-tissue massage combined. . .it was enveloping him.

Inside and out. 

Bones’ expression shifted so quickly he almost got whiplash. 

He stayed floating for another moment.

Then, he clambered onto the tank’s rim, heading for the basement stairs, not caring one bit how he was dripping and leaving wet footprints everywhere. 

He needed Phantom to show him how to adjust the tank’s settings. 

He needed to spend some more time in there. He needed to have another session—he needed to have at least one hour-long session per day. . .

@that-bat @sammys-magical-au @ineedallofthehugs @th3w00ds @captainrose35 @nwtbobsessedemo

[moonpiepig]

Love-struck - Chapter 6

On the surface it was cold and the first few rays of the morning sun exposed a light, ivory mist that rose from the damp ground after a long night of rain. Far below, bright candles illuminated winding passageways, rousing sleepy inhabitants from their cosy beds. The air was electric with muted conversation as crowds of famished villagers were herded into the dining hall, eagerly awaiting thick slabs of streaky bacon, crispy hash browns, and fried eggs piled upon chipped plates. 

Y/N awoke sometime mid-morning, bleary-eyed, as the makeshift door scraped harshly against the stone floor. Whispers of slow shuffling and hushed cursing disturbed the peace as Laxus squeezed himself through the doorway, trying desperately to not wake her. She caught a glimpse of him clutching two steaming mugs, with a squashed loaf of bread under one arm and a cutting board under the other, before closing her eyes and pretending to sleep. Forcing deep, slow breaths and concealing a smile, she listened to Laxus gently place some of the breakfast items onto the coffee table by the entrance and the scent of freshly baked goods filled the room. He stood still for a moment,  not making a sound, contemplating what to do next. 

The pallet protested as he perched by Y/N’s side and took a moment to observe her. His hand, warmed from the coffee, brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen across her face. She fluttered her eyes open and displayed a convincing act of awakening, before focusing on Laxus and the large, clay mug he extended towards her. 

“About time…” he teased, his mouth curling into a smug grin. “Morning is almost over. I had to fight an army for this breakfast.”

She took the mug, feeling the soothing warmth burn her fingers, and mumbled thanks. She hadn’t slept so deeply in over two years and the built-up fatigue lay heavy in her muscles, pulling her back under the blankets. Laxus brandished a bunch of grapes and removed cutlery, smoked cheese wrapped in a faded patterned cloth, and a jar of apricot jam from his pockets. He reached for the bread and tore off a chunk, slathered it with jam and handed it to her as her stomach growled with anticipation. They ate without conversation, savouring both the food and the quiet intimacy, clinging eagerly to the remnants of the night before.

It didn’t last long. It couldn’t. An uncomfortable shroud fell over them after they had finished eating. Laxus cleared away the mugs and the cutlery, the chance to discuss what was on their minds fading quickly. Y/N brushed some crumbs off the bedding and straightened her back just as Laxus inhaled deeply, unable to meet her gaze. 

“Listen Y/N… About last night-”

“Laxus… We should talk about-”

A loud knock on the door startled them and a tall, well-dressed man with tousled hair and a faint stench of body odour stepped inside, eyeing them nervously. 

“The… Um… The mayor would like to see you both,” he stammered.

Y/N looked at Laxus. His cheeks were still faintly flushed from the words he had been unable to speak, his eyes a little bloodshot from lack of sleep, but his face gave no inkling of what he was thinking. The discussion of the previous night’s events would have to wait. Whether she felt she and Laxus could wait long was another thing entirely. She waved a hand dismissively at the man and informed him they would be on their way soon. He scurried away and they prepared their things, falling back into a more agonising silence.

***

They strode down a long, empty corridor towards the mayor’s office. It wasn’t hard to find, what with it being the only cavern underground that resembled a fully finished room. A large ornate door, clearly scavenged from a church or some other grand building, stood tall, keeping a watchful eye on all visitors.   

The entrance was cracked open a little and they could hear the mayor's gravelly voice inside, muttering to himself. As they drew closer, a few words drifted from the office, freezing Y/N to the spot, her hand poised, ready to knock. Laxus noticed her hesitation and raised his eyebrows in question. She shook her head dubiously, her wide eyes unable to focus on her surroundings. Surely she had misheard the mayor’s words…

“May Lord Zeref return.” 

A shiver ran down her back and she flinched as though stabbed with a poker as Laxus leaned over her and rapped sharply on the dense wood. The short, elderly man answered at once. He stepped back with his arms spread open in welcome. Catching her horrified reflection in his glasses, Y/N painted a kind smile on her face and extended herself to her full height before stepping inside.

“Welcome! Good morning to you both,” he boomed. “I thought I’d check in and see how things are going with that blasted beast.” He sank into a grand, leather chair behind his desk and rested his chin on his palm, giving them his full attention. If he is an old member of the commune, Y/N thought while taking in his suede suit with thick brass buttons, he certainly didn’t live a similar lifestyle now. Laxus clearly had his own opinion on the man and the mayor’s eagerness wavered momentarily when he snorted in disgust and crossed his arms.

“You know, I don’t remember agreeing to help in the first place,” he sneered, eyes locked onto the wrinkled face.

Y/N thought she saw a flicker of annoyance harden the mayor’s gaze, but his smile grew in reply and he nodded sympathetically. 

“You are right,” he said softly, his face forlorn. “I speak on behalf of all the citizens here when I say I sincerely apologise for the way we treated you when you arrived. As I explained to your companion, we are tired of living in fear of the beast, and being unable to fight, back since none of us have any real magic talent, has made us quite desperate.” 

“Fine,” Laxus held out his hand after a long pause and the mayor took it. “I agree to help on the condition that we get the money you mentioned to my… companion. Oh, and if you try anything I don’t agree with, I will make everyone here pay the price.” An amber spark shot through his fingers, and the mayor flinched, quickly releasing his grip. 

Not waiting for any more pleasantries, Laxus regaled the details of their attempt to confront the wyvern yesterday and Y/N took the opportunity to closely examine the interior. The natural cavern walls were hidden behind large bookcases stuffed with famous titles, moth-eaten tapestries and a large variety of aged paintings. The mayor was seemingly a collector who took pride in the facade his objects offered him. She strolled around the bookcases, scanning the musty contents. Laxus gave her an inconspicuous glance as she completed the full circle, ending up back by his side and letting out a small sigh of relief. There were no apparent links to her past here. No demonic statues. No black books.

“Well, I wish you luck,” said the mayor, pulling Y/N from her thoughts. “I do hope you can help us. A word of warning before you go, some of these buildings are old and unstable. Best to stay on solid ground if you have a choice.”

He regarded her with a fixed grin, his eyes narrowing as if he could read her thoughts. She nodded at him in farewell before following Laxus out into the passageway.

***

The monstrous beast glided in circles around the decrepit church tower, its beady eyes transfixed onto the glittering, gold bell within. Y/N and Laxus clambered out the entrance to the caves below and took shelter in a shallow doorway behind the church, hidden from view. 

“Okay, let’s think of a plan,” said Y/N, her eyes glued to the massive, winged creature as it perched on top of the tower roof. “I say we-”

She felt the air shift next to her and whipped around just in time to see Laxus rush into the street, golden energy crackling menacingly around him.

“Glad to see you came back for round two!” he yelled as he rushed forward into the wyvern’s path. The lightning coursed up his right arm and grew in intensity and he slammed his fist into the wyvern’s side. Y/N clamped her hands over her ears, barely filtering out the deafening screams from the beast plummeting to the ground and scattering clouds of dust across the village. Laxus turned to check on Y/N and she cried out as the beast’s head burst forward with unnerving speed, sharp teeth bared and strong jaws prepped to grab onto an unguarded limb. Laxus dodged left. Y/N sprang into the air in a streak of dark energy and hurtled downwards, crashing into the top of the beast’s skull with a crack. She felt Laxus’ reassuring warm hand on the small of her back as she created some distance between herself and the beast, preparing for the next move. The wyvern scrambled away. They both lunged forward to grab onto the spiked tail and Y/N recoiled as Laxus’ boot came into contact with her stomach, nauseating her and jolting her off course. She heard him curse before he was quickly dragged away, leaving her behind. 

Sprawled on the ground, she coughed a mouthful of dirt and mentally scanned her aching body. Nothing broken. She hoisted herself up and took a moment to watch Laxus being swung around like a rag doll, leaving her with a twinge of satisfying justice as she clutched her aching abdomen. After a few minutes, he regained his balance and dug his heels into the ground, leaving a deep trail in the dirt and slowing the wyvern. Violent yellow light danced through his body and along the creature. It jerked and twisted, clawing at the source of its pain and Laxus bellowed incoherently as the lightning grew stronger. The beast gave up fighting and started to inch itself towards the church, its roars rattling Y/N to her core. Its eyes fixed unwaveringly onto the shimmering bell.

“Laxus, wait!” Y/N called out. Laxus, unable to hear her over the chaos surrounding them, released the tail and moved closer to the creature’s head. Y/N sprinted towards him, hand outstretched and shouting so hard her throat turned raw. He raised his arm to give the final blow, energy surging around his clenched fist and she crashed into his back, redirecting the lightning towards a collapsed library.      

“What are you doing?” Laxus roared, inches from Y/N’s face, and rage lit his eyes. She shrank away and he stumbled backwards once her face came into focus and the light around him extinguished immediately. She furrowed her brows and took a deep breath before pointing towards the bell tower. 

“It was trying to get to the tower.”

Laxus turned to the direction she was pointing in and eyed the wyvern warily but it lay still in the dust. It heaved a giant sigh and its gaze remained fixed on the bell. Laxus grunted, acknowledging the peculiarity. 

“Did I hurt you badly when I kicked you?” he asked, his expression hidden from her view.

Y/N snorted. “It’ll take more than your boot to take me down.”

They stood in silence for a moment, recovering their strength and composure. The morning’s unspoken words hung heavily above them. Y/N stepped by his side and took his hand. Eventually, Laxus faced her and grinned widely.

“Looks like we’re a bit out of practice,” he said. “We’ll end up killing each other before nightfall.”

Y/N laughed and squeezed his hand gently. Still cautious around the frozen beast, they made their way to the church ruins and climbed the tower. Y/N heaved herself over the edge and gasped. Laxus, not as agile and therefore a bit slower at scaling the wall than she was, called out questioningly and began to pick up the pace. Underneath the bell sat a crate containing three large, shimmering eggs covered in jade scales. 

“Well that explains a lot,” Laxus muttered behind her. 

Y/N peered down at the unmoving creature. “Wyverns lay eggs in nests, usually caves. There is no way they ended up here naturally.”

“So someone took them? Why?”

“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “It has to have been one of the villagers. Wyvern eggs are quite valuable but even so, surely they would have said or done something once the attacks started?”     

Laxus sighed and ran a hand through his unruly blonde spikes. “I’ll hunt them down and make them talk when we get back but in the meantime, we can’t leave these here.”

After much contemplation and some bickering, they decided to create a basket using the debris littering the town square and attach a rope thick enough for the wyvern to curl its talons around. The creature watched them approach but stayed still, accepting their presence with a sharp exhale. Y/N placed the basket beside the wyvern's head and extended the rope before joining Laxus on his way back underground.  

***

Once Y/N reached the bottom of the ladder, Laxus placed his hands on her waist and drew her closer to him. 

“So listen… As far as I’m concerned this is a job well done,” he murmured. “You tell the mayor, I’ll pack the bags and we can be on a train by sunset.”

“Deal. I’m sure he can find the thief without our help.”

He kissed her forehead before parting and she watched him until he disappeared around a bend before walking in the opposite direction. A smile played on the corners of her lips and she felt lightheaded as she thought of ideas for their next destination. The snowy mountain tops in search of the best strawberries in all of Fiore? Sailing down a river in Margaret Town together or perhaps relaxing in the hot springs at Pegasus Village? She reached the mayor’s office, rapped a short rhythm on the door and stepped side to side as she waited for a response. Several minutes of silence passed. Eager to head back to the room to help with packing, Y/N gently opened the door and slid inside. Her breath caught in her throat, choking her as she noticed the mayor standing poised like a statue in the shadows of the room. 

“Wha-?” she exclaimed, startled and taking a step back.

“I see you found the eggs,” he said quietly. “I believe I hired you to kill the wyvern, NOT to snoop around and give away what isn’t yours.”

Realisation dawned too late and Y/N balle her fists tightly, ready to fight. “You stole her eggs? But why?”

The mayor stepped towards her, tutting, his expression hard and menacing. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand and cupped her chin, closing the gap between them, the damp sweat on his skin making her shudder.

“You really are like your mother,” he whispered, stale breath caressing her face. “I do hope Zeref can forgive us for her mistakes.”

[floral-and-fine]

Change in Me part 2

Jacob Seed x female reader

part 1

warnings: modern AU

summary: Jacob is a retired veteran who reluctantly helps his new neighbor one day. As a way to say thank you, she invites him over for dinner. This leads to Jacob having conflicting feelings especially as their relationship progresses.

a/n: Sorry for the wait! I’ve had this done for awhile… hopefully I’ll start part 3 soon! Thank you @ewokiee

When the large work truck pulled into the yard next door, Judge, Meat, and Recruit all perked up, rising from their spots on the sofa and headed towards the door. Even Jacob was curious when he heard the truck door slam, slowly getting up from his chair, he wandered over to the window. 

His curtains were drawn. In fact, they had been that way since that night. It was all part of his plan to ignore you. He stayed holed up in his house most of the day, only leaving when he was absolutely positive he wouldn’t run into you. Fortunately, you stuck to your usual schedule, making it easy for him to avoid you. 

Though, he didn’t want to linger on the fact that he learned your whole routine in such a short time of you moving in. He also didn’t want to think about how he kept having those dreams about you even though he hadn’t seen you since dinner that night. 

With his index finger, he carefully parted the curtains just enough to take a peek. His jaw clenched as he watched the stranger in his gray coveralls and tool belt nonchalantly approach your door. 

Jacob huffed and turned away. He didn’t like this at all. 

He paced back and forth, frowning while trying to convince himself that he didn’t care and that he didn’t want to be the one helping you. This was a good thing, you should get help from some other man. It was better than bothering him. Plus, this guy wouldn’t care, and you wouldn’t invite him for dinner, he was getting paid to do this after all. 

But then he heard you laugh, it was a sweet little giggle that rang in the air lightly catching his attention. Immediately, he found himself at the window again, this time glaring at the exchange between you and the worker.

You swayed slightly side to side with your hands behind your back as you gave the stranger a friendly smile while explaining the issues you were having with the plumbing. The man was grinning like an idiot, in response, his hand rubbing the back of his head like he never spoke to a pretty girl before. 

Jacob’s stomach twisted into knots, he hated himself for letting this get to him, he wished he never got involved with you at all, but what he wanted most this very moment was to punch that man’s stupid face. 

Without thinking, Jacob marched outside. He had no idea what he was going to do or say, but he couldn’t ignore it and he couldn’t just stand there and watch that fool gush over you.

“Hey,”  Jacob said gruffly, but still friendlier than usual, as he walked over to your house. 

You blinked in surprise, but immediately smiled at Jacob. It was far better than the smile you gave the plumber. You looked happier, brighter, prettier for him. In fact, your entire face lit up and your eyes sparkled when you saw him. 

That alone eased the rage he was feeling moments ago, he could tell you preferred him over this other guy. 

Getting a better look at the stranger, Jacob wanted to laugh, he was obviously weak and puny, didn’t look too smart either. On plumber’s gray coveralls was a name patch that read Guy. 

Jacob resisted the urge to knock him flat on his ass. Instead, he kept his eye on the prize and turned his attention towards you. 

“What’s the problem?” Jacob asked, pushing past Guy as he walked up the porch stairs. He stood right between you and the wimp, making sure all you could see was him.

He could feel Guy staring at his back, probably angry at him for just showing up and interrupting his poor attempt at flirting with you. 

“One of the drains is clogged and the water pressure in the shower is horrible,” you explained, looking up at Jacob. 

“I see,” Jacob muttered quietly, before leaning in towards you. He was so close that you could feel his breath tickling your cheek as he continued. “Got a minute to talk?” He whispered.

“Sure,” you nodded, curious as to what he wanted to discuss. 

In an oddly familiar fashion, Jacob placed his large hand on your lower back and guided you back inside your house. Before going into the house, he shot Guy an ugly look, somewhere between a scowl and a snarl. 

“What is it?” You asked, tilting your head. 

“I can do it,” Jacob stated plainly. 

“Do what?”

He sighed, “I can fix the clog and the water pressure.”

Your eyes went wide, stunned by his generosity once again. “Really?”

Jacob nodded looking at his boots for a moment, “It’s an easy fix.”

He didn’t know that for sure, plumbing was one of those things where a small job could easily turn into a big one, but he didn’t want that plumber around, so he’d do it and get it done. 

“Oh my god! That would be such a big help!” You clapped your hands together and bounced on the balls of your feet. “And I’d much rather have someone I know than some strange man, especially with it just me and Bonnie in the house.”

Jacob looked up and met your eyes, he hadn’t really even considered it like that. Why hadn’t he?  He knew better than most how dangerous this world can be, he knew not to trust people and keep them at a distance. 

His eyes narrowed. You were right, absolutely right, with it just being you and the babe, it wasn’t safe or smart letting just anyone in. Perhaps that’s why he rushed over. 

“Ever think about upgrading the security here? Better locks, maybe even a security camera or motion sensor lights?” He questioned, his mind already racing. 

You shrugged, “Sounds great, but I can’t really afford all that right now.”

Jacob grit his teeth, mulling it all over. 

“I better go explain to the plumber that his services are no longer needed,” you said, heading towards the door. 

Jacob’s hand caught your arm, fingers wrapping around it right above the elbow. “We’ll talk more about the security stuff later, I’ve got some stuff around the house I ain’t using.”

“Thank you, Jacob.”

A sudden cry from upstairs drew your attention. 

“Sounds like Bonnie just woke up from her nap,” you said, shaking your head. “Do you mind telling the plumber he can go?” You asked Jacob. 

He nodded, watching for a moment as you rushed upstairs. 

Jacob stepped back onto the porch, arms crossed over his chest as he looked down at Guy. “You can go,” He said bluntly. 

“Oh uh, but, what about…” Guy stammered almost incoherently, immediately stepping back as Jacob took another step forward. 

Guy licked his lips nervously, “S-sorry about anything I may have said earlier to your girlfriend, didn’t know she was spoken for.”

Jacob paused, raising his eyebrow, but didn’t bother to correct him. “You better be,” he threatened, getting some kind of twisted pleasure watching the guy squirm. 

“Yeah, of course, I'll just be on my way now,” Guy explained, practically running towards his truck, afraid to accidentally piss Jacob off. 

As the work truck pulled away, Jacob relaxed a little, he felt triumphant watching the puny man scurry. 

Figuring you still had your hands full, he went back to his house to gather some tools and supplies so he could get started right away.  

…

Cleaning off his hands with an old rag, Jacob smirked watching the water run from the shower head. He did a damn pretty good, the water pressure was nice and strong, and the kitchen sink was draining again like it was brand new.

He felt a strange sort of satisfaction, on one hand he was proud of his work, of course, but he also felt good, he felt right. Taking care of you and your daughter felt right, even if you weren’t exactly his. Yet, there was a small voice in the back of his head that kept saying it was just a matter of time. 

“Hey,” you chirped, popping your head in. “Turkey sandwiches alright for lunch?”

“Sounds good,” Jacob answered. “Just gotta clean up this mess and I’ll be down.”

You nodded before skipping back downstairs. 

Walking down the steps, he paused at the last one and took in the scene before him. You were on the couch, your legs curled underneath you as you watched local TV while eating. Bonnie was on the rug, stacking blocks and babbling about all sorts of things. It was an endearing picture, simple and peaceful. 

He noticed a plate sitting on the coffee table for him and the vacant spot on the couch across from it. Then a thought crossed Jacob’s mind that he was the piece missing from this picture. 

Finally spotting him at the bottom of the staircase, you turned slightly and smiled patting the spot next to you. “Come have a break and some lunch!”

Jacob groaned a little as he sat down, he didn’t like to admit it, but he wasn’t a spring chicken anymore. He picked up half of his sandwich and took a couple of big bites. 

The noise of the TV was drowned out as he focused on eating. He wasn’t big on television or movies really, he used his time more productively, typically working on his home, garden, or preparing for the future. When he did relax he read or played with the dogs. Occasionally, he’d go camping or fishing for a few days. He wondered if you’d ever like to go with him. There was a place close by where he could rent a cabin by the lake, nice and remote. Suddenly he sensed you tensing beside him. 

On the news, there was a report about a missing child, apparently the kid was taken from his home in the middle of night right from his bed. 

Your eyes furrowed with worry and sadness, staring at the screen while the reporter went into further detail. Instinctively you reached out and held Jacob’s hand. You squeezed it tightly, becoming engrossed in the news story. 

Jacob hadn’t really been paying attention until he felt your hand on his. He gazed over at you from the corner of his eye, your face was quite expressive, he could tell almost exactly what you were feeling and thinking. 

You were concerned about the safety of your own child, thinking about  how you would do anything to keep her safe. He knew it probably wasn’t easy to be a woman on her own, especially with a small child. 

He almost missed the warmth of your hand as you pulled it away grabbing the remote and turning off the TV. 

“Sorry,” you muttered, unsure why you felt like you needed to apologize or explain. “But I couldn’t hear any more of that.” 

He looked at you, and with a little hesitation patted your knee, “you’ll both be alright. I’ll make sure of it.”

Your eyes softened taking in the tough older man, he appeared so serious when speaking and honest, something about how his blue eyes didn’t waver when he spoke and the tone of his voice was calm and soothing. 

Jacob cleared his throat, suddenly aware of how that may have come out, “We’ll get you set up with better security starting tomorrow.” 

“Oh, yeah, right,” you laughed lightly. “Of course.”

You saw Jacob out, carrying Bonnie in your arms. “Good night!”

“Night,” he muttered back. 

Jacob could hear his dogs from the porch making a fuss, but his mind was preoccupied. He was already thinking of installing a motion sensor light outside your house, changing the locks to the front and back door, maybe he could even convince you to have one of the dogs over at your house. He’d pity anyone stupid enough to break into his home with his pack waiting. Either way, he’d make sure you were safe.