#anyhow. if you happen to like it enough to continue the show shoot me an ask again so that i can tell you about episode order

[dylanlila]

let’s see if this is too science-y for me

MAL DBSHDJSJDKSKKDKSKDID MAL MAL MAL MAL MALLLLL MAAAAAAAAAAAAAL MALLLLL MAL ❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗

[ca-8]

Yakko x Reader Scenario: When You First Meet

'This is it. The beginning of the end.' 

Gripping on the straps of her backpack, (Y/n) exited the bus and stared up at the water tower that displayed the famous Warner Bros. logo. As expected, it emitted a smug aura onto the entire area; however, surprisingly, there was a slight twinge of mystery to it as well. But she didn't have time to ponder about it, so she only gave it an uneasy look and headed straight for the entrance.

Her heart stopped. She knew the place was going to be busy, but it was like an entire New York City packed in one section! So many writers, producers, actors, large men carrying heavy sets, every type of person working in film was scattered all over the place. It was like an ocean, with the people as marine life doing what they're designed to do, and (Y/n) being the puppy that was abandoned at sea.

The moment it all settled in, an involuntary realization invaded her thoughts. 'I don't belong here.'

The young girl reminded herself to breathe and rushed over to a vacant wall, then pulled out her phone. She had already sent her mother about a thousand messages telling her she was here, but since she hasn't responded, a few more shouldn't hurt. Fingers rapidly typing away, she bit her lower lip, already wishing she had stayed on that bus. 

"Oh, you're just gonna love it!" Her mother's squealing voice had already filled her skull. "You're so talented, I know you're gonna fit right in."

'Yeah, standing around all day with a bunch of people I don't know while doing something I suck at is exactly how I wanna spend my summer.' She let out a soft sigh. 'It's fine. Just shut up and make her happy, (Y/n).'

Several attempts of calling and texting later, no response. (Y/n) sighed again, and her eyes wandered over to the bustling crowd. 'No way. Absolutely no way.' But if she wanted to get the day over with, absolutely yes way.

First, she walked up to a lady looking down at the clipboard in her hands. "Um, excuse me," (Y/n) said. 

The lady's head snatched up. "KYLE!" she yelled, her eyes now ablaze with fury, "YOU IDIOT! THAT GOES IN THE WAREHOUSE ACROSS THE STUDIO!" And like there was nothing but a breeze behind her, the lady stomped off to the poor soul that had to face her wrath.

The breeze took a step back and ran around the corner. 'Maybe I'll find someone else instead…!' (Y/n) stopped and spotted a man sitting on the steps that lead to the entrance of a small building. She swallowed whatever was left in her mouth and reluctantly approached him. 

"E-Excuse me, sir?" she stuttered, hoping her voice was louder than the last time. As she got closer, (Y/n) noticed he was chuckling, and his gaze was glued onto a small piece of paper. 

"I...I did it…!" he said. She yelped and shrinked back when he suddenly jumped to his feet. "I FINALLY DID IT! WE'LL SEE WHO'S REGRETTING THE DIVORCE NOW, MARGARET!" And with a manic laugh, the man dashed into the building. 

'...Or maybe I'll just find it myself.'

It wasn't too long before (Y/n) got herself lost. Despite the help of maps that were stuck to some of the buildings, all of them seemed exactly the same. It was like a maze, and with each passing minute, she was more and more convinced that there was no finish line. Even worse, her mother was too busy to respond to anything she sent her. 

'Oh, what should I do?' (Y/n) thought for the thousandth time. No matter how hard she pinched or held them, her arms refused to stop trembling. Not too long ago, the outside of the studio became deserted and she'd hate to walk in a warehouse and possibly interrupt something important, so asking for help again was out of the question.

...Or, perhaps it wasn't. 

A tiny, hopeful smile crossed (Y/n)'s face when she heard the sounds of frustrated grunts around the corner. It was the first time she was so relieved to see a stranger. 

And thank god that stranger was a security guard. Though she wondered why he had a giant net in his hand, she shoved the curiosity as far in the back of her mind as she could and reached up to gently tap his shoulder. 

"Um, excuse me sir?" she asked as loud as she could. 

His head whipped around, revealing angry eyes and a scowl that said he was ready to kill. But right as his gaze landed on her, it changed within an instant. 

"Oh, hello!" he said with a bright smile. 

(Y/n) blinked, cocking her head. ‘What was this guy up to?’

"I'm sorry to bother you, but do you know where (M/n) (L/n) is filming? I'm her daughter, (Y/n), and I'm trying to look for her. She's not answering her phone either."

His joyful expression slowly melted into a confused one. "Uuhhh…(M/n) (L/n)?”

“Yes. She’s a part of Animal Kingdom? Do you know where that’s being filmed?”

“Oh! I know there’s a zoo around here called Animal Kingdom! I don’t think you’ll find it in a film studio, though.”

(Y/n) frowned. “...No, I mean the show. Aren’t they filming in a warehouse today? Do you know where that is?”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

Her eye twitched, and she was just about ready to drown the entire studio in the nearest ocean. “N-Nevermind, I’ll just-”

As if the universe wasn’t satisfied with tormenting her enough, the security guard suddenly launched up into the air and flew into the sky. Right before her eyes, the heavens were coated with explosives of every color that ever existed. 

“Oh my god!” (Y/n) yelled. ‘Who strapped fireworks on that guy?!’

“Oh, I knew you’d love it!”

Her eyes were ripped from the loud fireworks show as she was immediately smothered in a hug. “It’s so nice that another girl’s here! All the other ones here are either too busy or just keep shouting about a restraining order for some reason. I dunno, but anyway, I just know you're gonna love it here! Anyway, my name’s Princess Angelina Louisa Cantessa Francesca Banana Fanna Bo Besca the third! But since we're friends now, you can just call me Dot.”

This confirmed it. This was a trap set up by her mother to deliberately drive her insane, because how else can someone explain the nut jobs and talking dogs in pink dresses? 

A combination of those two things happened to be clutching her head and digging her face into hers. “...Huh?” (Y/n) mumbled.

‘Dot’ jumped off of her and smiled widely. “Sorry about Ralph by the way. I figured out you were coming at the last second and I really needed someone for your welcoming gift.” she said.

(Y/n) glanced up at the sky where the fireworks were slowly dying down. “Um...Is he gonna be okay?” she asked.  

“Of course he will!” her backpack said.

The teen screamed and threw her bag on the ground. A hand popped out and unzipped it with impossible ease, then a taller boy version of Dot jumped out, pulling up his long brown pants and flashing a grin. 

“H-...H-H-How did you…?!” (Y/n) stuttered, pointing at him. 

“What? Never heard of cartoon logic?” he said, approaching her. “And Ralph’ll be fine. His skull’s so thick, concrete’s the last thing that can kill him.”

“What-?”

“Anyhow,” he walked over to Dot and put an arm over her shoulder, “The name’s Yakko, this here’s my beloved baby sister Dot, and this is-” He stopped, staring at the empty space to his left. He leaned into Dot, whispering, “Say, uh, you don't mind looking for Wakko, do ya sis?”

Dot glanced at (Y/n) for an uncomfortable moment and suddenly shot her brother a glare. "I've got eyes all over this studio, Yakko," she warned, slowly stepping away.

Now (Y/n) certainly knew she didn't see pairs of eyes appear around every inch of her sight. 'Oh god, I didn't breath in drugs on the way here, did I? Actually, that would explain whatever the heck's going on.'

Yakko smiled as he watched his sister leave and turned to (Y/n). He walked closer to her, and she realized that his half-lidded eyes had a strange glint in them. “Sooo, your name’s (Y/n), right? A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

(Y/n)’s face heated up. ‘First I get lost, then see a guy get blown up, and now some other guy’s flirting with me? ...To be honest, this is still better than what Mom had planned for today.’

“So what brings ya’ here?” he asked.

“O-Oh, well, my Mom was supposed to give me a tour of the studio, but I’ve been giving that to myself all day. I tried finding her, but I’m pretty sure I’m nowhere near it by now.” Her eyes wandered over to the ground, but a realization made them perk back up and over to Yakko. “Hey, do you happen to know this place by any chance?”

“Know it? Please, my sibs and I live here, we know this place by heart and soul!” He mumbled something else, along the lines of “Basically made our hearts and souls”. 

Her heart jumped; finally, a piece of good news. “Really?” she said, a smile spreading across her face.

He nodded. “So where do ya’ need to go?” Before she could answer, he pulled out a piece of folded paper and moved in so close, their shoulders were smooshed together. Yakko unfolded it, and it turned out to be the biggest map (Y/n) has ever seen. “Well, from here, you’re gonna need to take a right and continue straight until you get to the Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts exhibit. But be careful, I heard some of them escaped, and if anyone asks if you’ve seen any of them, don’t tell them I gave one to Dot as a late birthday gift. Anyway, you take a left from there, then a right where you’ll see the lot where they used to shoot Game of Thrones. Now this is only a rumour I’ve heard, but I think some of the producers are still on that set. If you happen to see them, do not, I repeat, DO NOT mention season eight, or maybe just don’t mention the show at all. Actually, don’t even look at them. As a matter of fact, you probably shouldn’t even go there at all, just keep heading straight until you get to the D.C. Universe lot. Then you just take left there, then a sharp right over over, then you keep going straight until you get to here, turn up over there, turn right there, and then you’re there. Did ya’ follow all that?”

(Y/n) stared at his face, which was practically radiating with enthusiasm, and she felt her eye twitch again. “...No,” she said, shaking her head.

His smile dimmed, but it became just as bright as the sun again a split-second later. “Ah well, maps are gettin' old anyways,” he said, throwing the map over his shoulder. “WAKKO!!”

And, low and behold, another anthropomorphic dog popped out of nowhere, and (Y/n) was starting to question if there was an army of them hidden somewhere. But she had to admit, it was pretty cute how this one was dressed in an oversized blue sweater and red hat. 

“Tablet, please,” Yakko said politely, holding out his hand. 

‘You're not gonna walk me there-?'

Wakko suddenly held his head back with his cheeks puffed out, then leaned into Yakko’s hand as he forced out a small object from his mouth. After an incredibly uneasy moment, a tablet glazed in spit was in Yakko's grasp. While he praised the little guy, (Y/n) forced back the urge to vomit.

“E-Ehhhh…?” She couldn’t say anything else while her gaze frantically went back and forth from Wakko and the regurgitated tablet. 

“Oh! Where are my manners?” Yakko said. “(Y/n), this is my dear little brother, Wakko. Wakko, this here’s our new special friend, (Y/n).” 

“Hello!” Wakko greeted, who was suddenly in her arms. “You’re really pretty!”

“Ehh? Thank you? I guess??” she said apprehensively, and finally managed to make eye contact. Despite his...quirks, he's actually a little adorable... She let herself grin a little.

The moment of semi-peace was ruined when she took notice of Yakko’s narrowed eyes. “ALrighty, (Y/n)!” he said loudly, grabbing his little brother by the collar and gently setting him on the ground. “Animal Kingdom, right? Let’s get ya’ right over there.” He moved right beside her and taped the screen a couple times. 

“Um, what’re you doing exactly?” she asked.

“Doing what every person does to get somewhere nowadays.” He grabbed her waist and pulled her against him, and (Y/n) flinched from his touch. “Please keep your arms, legs, and personal items inside the tablet at all times.”

Just when she was about to question him for the hundredth time, he pressed the screen again, and her vision became nothing but white. Her body felt like it was launched into a tornado; a strong force of wind thrusted her back, and somehow, the boy’s arm kept her from flying off from his side. A second later, her feet were back on the ground, the sky was where it needed to be, and reality was back in place. 

Except for (Y/n)’s mentality. 

She stumbled around, trying to find her balance as the world unbearably whirled around her. Finally, she shook her head, and quickly turned back towards Yakko, whose face tried to tell her whatever happened was perfectly fine and normal. 

“What was THAT?” she yelled, staggering towards him and gripping his shoulders.

And he still had the audacity to have that 'why-are-you-freaking-out-so-much-we-do-this-every-Friday' smile. “Thank you for attending Warner’s Travel Tours! I would say my Agent Ralph’ll take your bags, but I left him alone with my sibs, so he’s probably in the middle of the Pacific Ocean by now.”

(Y/n) could only stare at him. Her mind was twisting and turning, trying so hard to make any sense of what happened but only making her headache grow larger and larger. And then, her thoughts just went blank.

She smirked. Then giggled. And a few seconds later, she had burst out laughing whilst holding her stomach. (Y/n) looked back up at Yakko, wiping a tear from her eye. “Th-Thank you…” she said, catching her breath. 

His smile had grown and she thought his white cheeks were red for a moment. Yakko had opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say was cut off by a net suddenly covering his entire body. Ralph was behind him, his skin and clothes burnt and ears practically smoking. “You’re coming with me, Warner!” he said.

And yet, Yakko only grinned. Like physics was his enemy, he disappeared from inside the net and appeared sprouting from the security guard’s back, cheerfully waving at (Y/n). “I’ll see ya’ around, yeah?” he said, then ran around the corner with Ralph sprinting right after him.

(Y/n) giggled and reached for the straps around her back. But when she only felt the (f/c) fabric of her shirt, her smile dropped, and a deep sigh escaped her lips. “Great…” she whispered.

“(Y/N)!” 

She gasped as a pair of arms squeezed the life out of her. Her mother spun her around to face her gleaming smile, which was immediately replaced by an apologetic frown. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get your texts! That scene took forever, but I’m glad you found your way here! You’re so smart! Anyway, I know we don’t get as much time now, but there’s still so much we’ll be able to see!...”

She rambled on and on and on and on. Her daughter’s shoulders slumped and she followed her to where she wanted her to go, but the frown on her face didn’t last long when she remembered the fun she had just a few seconds ago. ‘Maybe this summer won’t be that bad.’

[thestarrynightslover]

It’s a Good Day to Have a Bad Date

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Word count: 2,383

Warnings: Slight mentions of an OC with criminal priors, violent tendencies, and a juvenile record. A teeny-tiny bit of angst.

Summary: The reader meets Jay as she's trying to find out stuff about the guy she's about to go out with and ends up switching dates.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: Just to make one thing clear: I did some research on Illinois's laws  (not sure I got it right tho) and, apparently, this fic is very inaccurate. But I really wanted to pursue the idea, so just humor me, please 🙏🏻. Anyways, I had a lot of fun while writing this and thought about making a part two... But I'm not sure. Tell me what you think! 💗

| masterlist |

You inhaled deeply one more time before you walked into the police district. There wasn’t even a real reason for you to be so nervous about it. You weren’t a victim and you weren’t a criminal. So, what’s the worst that could happen? 

The worst that could happen was, of course, you getting a bunch of cops mad at you because you went to waste their time with some pathetic whining. It was decided, you were gonna turn back around right now, while you still had time, and just go home.

On second thought, though, it was a matter of public safety. Your safety. Which was just as valid because you were just as much of a U.S. citizen as anyone else. So you went in. 

Shit. The place was almost empty, which meant everyone would notice if you left. And they’d ask questions, so you figured you’d, at least, get ahead of them, as you walked shyly towards the front desk. There, you were met by an older woman who looked bored, and still, terrifying.

“Can I help you with something?” She asked you, while cautiously checking you out. Oh my God, she thought you could be a victim! You were such an idiot.

“Um, it’s, um, it’s actually nothing, really. I shouldn’t even have come here in the first place.” You told her while smiling a little. What you didn’t know was that what you said had only raised more flags in the sergeant’s mind, even catching the attention of a tall man writing some things down on a paper at the corner of the counter. The young detective stayed back because he knew that Platt would know how to manage the situation, but continued listening to every word of the conversation.

The sergeant, then, took her glasses off, setting them on the counter. “Listen, miss, my name is Trudy Platt and the reason why I became a cop was that I wanted to help people, in every way that I possibly could. So, if you need my help with anything, just tell me what it is. And, I promise, I’ll do everything in my power to give it to you.” She assured you and, as much as you felt this huge sympathy for the woman, you also felt even worse about making her waste her time. So you tried to fix things.

“Oh, my God! I’m so, so, so sorry! I’m not a victim in any way, thank God. I said that I shouldn’t have come here because I’m not even sure if what I wanted to ask is legal…” You told her with a nervous laugh. Hearing that, the Sergeant’s eyes sparked with curiosity.

“Well, then I probably won’t be able to help you.” She told you, stressing the ‘probably’ and making the man at the end of the counter shamelessly turn his face in your direction in order to better hear your conversation. “But… Since you’re already here, and it’s been such a slow day for the District, maybe you should just ask me whatever you want to and I’ll be the judge of whether that’s legal or not. After all, unless you’re some sort of lawyer, I should know more about the law than the average civilian.” The Sergeant skilfully baited you.

“Um, no, I’m not a lawyer.” You confirmed with a small laugh while tugging some of your hair behind your ear. “Actually, since I’ve just recently moved here to Chicago ⎼ to Illinois, really ⎼, I’m probably a lot below your average civilian.” You stated with a giggle. At that, the guy that had lost his discretion about eavesdropping started chuckling a little himself, to which the older woman responded with a look you’d absolutely hate having directed to you.

“So, Chuckles, you have nothing better to do than to stay here listening to other people’s conversations?”

“First of all, it’s detective,” he started in a mocked smug tone, “and, second: no, uh, I actually don’t. I came to fill this paperwork down here exactly because we were about to kill each other upstairs, just to get out of the boredom.” He added, raising some paper files he had in-hand. “Besides, you know how much I, too, love to help people.” He said while shooting you a charming smile. Okay, that guy was pretty handsome. “Jay Halstead, nice to meet you.” The detective informed you, holding out his hand.

“Right, um, nice to meet you too, sir.” You replied, shaking his hand. “I didn’t even say my name, what a clums!” You joked while patting yourself on the forehead. “I’m (y/n) (y/l/n).”

“Okay, just, please, lose the ‘sir’ with that one, otherwise, he’ll never let it go.” Trudy chipped back in the conversation.

“So, what was it that you wanted to ask the sarge? I can assure you that we’ll let you know if it’s illegal. After all, two judges are better than one.” He suggested, all smiles.

“Since when?” The sergeant practically barked at the younger man, just to add: “You know what? You wanna be here at my front desk, Halstead? Then be here, but be quiet and let the lady talk.” She bluntly ordered him, who decided to do as he was told.

“Alright, um, it’s just that this guy who I don’t really know anything about asked me out and I said yes, even though I got a bad vibe from him?” They just stared at you with their jaws dropped, so you added: “Pathetic, I know. But I didn’t really wanna judge him without any proof, or anything like that, so I figured that, maybe, I could try and check if he has any criminal priors or something.” You finished with a tiny embarrassed smile.

“And why on Earth would you think that we could give you this type of information?” The sergeant asked you, her expression being one of pure shock.

“I, uh…” You didn’t really want to embarrass yourself even more but felt the urge to explain anyways. “It’s just that I’m a small-town girl, okay? And, over there, everybody knew my family, so, whenever I wanted to go out with someone, my dad would just ask his buddies at the Sheriff’s office to look the guy over. And he always told me that that was really important, so, when I moved to the state’s capital, I just wouldn’t go out with anyone unless a close friend vouched for him. Because I was terrified of what I’d see and hear on the news. But here… I don’t really know anyone yet.” You blurted it all out, to two strangers! To two cops who probably had something, or somethings, better to do than to listen to your whining. “Anyhow, I’m really sorry that I wasted your time, guys. Won’t happen again.” At that, they exchanged a look, and the sergeant said:

“You know what? You’re right, kid. The world is a dangerous place. And, unfortunately, it is even more dangerous for us women. So I’m gonna look the guy up. But I’m not gonna tell you exactly what it says if something comes up.” She told you, much for your surprise, and, then, turned to the detective, saying: “If you say a single word about this to anyone, and I mean anyone, Chuckles, I swear to God that I’ll cut your tongue out myself.”

“Geez, sarge. How can you swear such an ugly thing like that to God?” He asked her, in a mockery tone, while making a hilarious expression.

“Ha! Keep that up and your tongue won’t be the only thing I’m gonna cut.” She threatened him again and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter when he made a shocked expression and put his hands protectively over his crotch.

“For your information, I wanna help the girl just as much as you, so I wouldn’t say anything. You didn’t have to threaten me.” He tried to recover, as you handed her a small piece of paper with your possible date’s name.

“Oh, I know. But I wasn’t about to miss out on the opportunity.” She shot back at him while typing the name on the District’s computer. “Okay, here it is... Wow."

"What? What is it?" You asked her, as you watched the detective perk himself over the counter to look at the screen.

"Jesus. This guy's got himself quite a rap sheet." He commented, making you shiver, thinking of what could happen to you, if you went on with the date.

"What exactly do you mean by that, detective?" You asked the man who probably noticed your discomfort, because he spoke again, in a tranquilizing tone:

"No, relax. It's nothing too bad, like violent or anything. But there's some pretty nasty stuff here." He told you, not really making you relax.

"There's something here, though." That caught the detective's eye again. "His juvenile record is sealed, the only thing I can see without a warrant is an observation from his caseworker. She says something about him having violent tendencies." She told you with a sigh, taking her glasses off again. "Look, I know that I can't tell what to do and what to not do, (y/n), but, as a suggestion? Stay the hell away from this piece of work. You seem like a nice enough girl, I'd hate to see you come in here as a victim someday."

“Oh, God, no! I heard you loud and clear, sergeant! Don’t worry about it, I’m canceling that date ASAP!” You exclaimed, agreeing with her.

“That’s great!” The detective spoke this time, sounding a little too happy about the fact that you were about to cancel a date with a man who had criminal priors and violent tendencies. So both you and the other woman stared at him. “Err, I mean because you’re not gonna go out with him.” You just giggled a little at the way he was digging an even deeper hole for himself. “Because he’s a bad guy.” He added, once again getting a glare from Trudy. “You know what I mean.” He finished, defeated, not looking in your eyes.

“Well, uh,” you started, trying to keep yourself from laughing too hard, “anyways, I can only thank you both. You guys got me out of something that could be really unpleasant, to say the least.” You told them, a bit more serious this time.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Just glad we could help.” Detective Halstead said, smiling kindly at you.

“Yeah. This time, I actually agree with you, Halstead.” The sergeant half-joked.

“Aw, that’s very kind, but, really, thank you!” You restated your gratitude, then asking: “I should probably get going now, right? Stop wasting your time?”

“It’s not like we were doing much before you got here-” Trudy began saying, but was interrupted by the detective, who quickly told you:

“Yeah, you should go. You know, cause a police District…” You knew he was right, but those two seemed like really nice people, especially after having helped you dodge a bullet, so to speak, and you’d hoped that you were finally making some friends in the Windy-City. “Anyways, um, lemme walk you out.” He offered you while motioning to the door. At that, you and the sergeant shared a look that told you she also found it weird that the detective would wanna walk with you through such a minimal distance.

“Uh, um, o- okay.” As you and Halstead walked towards the exit, you couldn’t help but notice what nice features he had. Like, your mind just kept going back to what a good-looking man he was.

“So…” He trailed off.

“So…” You answered, not really sure about what to say.

“You know, um, it’s gotta be a hell of a bummer for you. Being here in Chicago without knowing many people. This city… It’s all about finding your community.” He told you in a sympathetic tone.

“Hum…” You breathed out as you thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, well, I guess that I can only hope I’ll have better luck at making acquaintances the next time I go out to explore it.”

“Right.” The detective agreed. “Uh, listen, I know that this may sound a little too forward, but, maybe, I could show you some of my favorite places, someday? I mean, only if you’re interested! Because I don’t want you to feel like-”

“Actually, I’d very much like that! If it isn’t going to be any trouble for you…” You cut him off excitedly.

“No! No trouble at all!” He quickly assured you. “Um, thi- this is my card.” He said, lifting up a small business card for you to see. “I’m gonna write my personal number on the back of it. Call, or text me when you have some time to go out. Or if you just want someone to talk…” The handsome man added with a smile. God, what a smile.

“Okay, um, thanks, dete-”

“No, please! Call me Jay.”

“Alright,” you acknowledged, a little nervous this time, “then, thank you, Jay. Just, be advised, I can be very talkative sometimes, which means you might regret giving me this.” You warned him with a sly smile while waving the card in front of his face.

“Huh.” Jay pretended to consider it for a moment. “Is it too weird if I say I have a feeling that I won’t regret it?” He then asked you with a cute shy smile.

“Well, it sure isn’t weirder than me saying that I really hope you don’t regret it.” You confessed to him with a wink.

“Hey, are you two gonna take that flirting elsewhere on your own, or do you need me to get you a room?” You heard Sergeant Platt call out, blushing immediately.

“I’m so sorry about that!” Jay told you, looking a little flushed himself. “You should probably go now.” He added with an apologetic smile.

“Yeah, I think you’re right..” You agreed, but, as you were turning around to leave, he grabbed your wrist lightly, saying:

“Just… Don’t forget to call.” Hearing that, you snickered a little.

“I have a feeling that I won’t.” You told him, almost repeating his previous words, which got some chuckles out of him.

Now you understood the nickname.

[flying-nightwing]

Fluff Alphabet - Jason Todd

Hello guys! This is my first alphabet because I saw everyone do it and i wanted in. I took this alphabet. I had a lot of fun to indulge in Jason, because well. Do I need to explain? 

Anyhow, enjoy this little thing inspired by my feelings for Jason Todd!

Disclaimer: This is my vision of the character and in no way an universal truth

Check out my masterlist in bio // pinned!

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

Your eyes. Jason could get lost in them by a simple glance. They say eyes are the windows to the soul, and he found it to be very true the second he met you. He will sometimes doubt he’s worth your love, but your gaze is enough to reassure him at every turn. He also can’t get enough of that spark that lights up when he makes you laugh, it draws him in. Your eyes are so kind and loving, the rest doesn’t really matter to him.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

Let’s be truthful here, Jason is terrified of having kids. Everytime the discussion gets even close to the topic of family, he gets vivid images of his own father with him and it fills him with dread that he'll end up just like him. Then, he thinks about his lifestyle and how just being the Red Hood (or having been, as a matter of fact) could endanger his family. But I think deep down he craves having a family, having kids (whether they’re biologically his or adopted), because he’s just that natural caring person.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

Continuing on that natural caring person wave, Jason will usually cuddle as the big spoon. His large frame makes it ridiculously easy for himself to wrap around you completely, and he loves to see you curled up around him, safe and comfortable in his arms. He likes to know he’s shielding you from any potential danger, it just eases his conscience. But sometimes he’ll have a bad day, or a rough patrol, and he’ll wordlessly slip in your hold in bed. It surprises you every time how small he can make himself, with his head on your chest above your heart and latched around your waist holding for dear life. Then, he’ll rely on you to make him feel safe, and he’ll fall asleep like that (he also likes when you play with his hair when he gets like that).

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

Jason is insanely romantic, nobody can prove me otherwise. With the amount of novels and books he read, it would be hard not to know how to be an exemplary lover. However, doing grand gestures in public and/or expensive shits is not his style. So it isn’t rare to come back home from your job after a tough week, to see Jason lighting up candles on a rose petals covered table, smiling at you and telling you to get changed in your pajamas and relax a bit before he finishes cooking (probably one of you favourite meals, or something new he knows you’ll like to surprise you). Dancing on your building’s rooftop or driving outside the city to take a walk under the stars are also his ideas of dates. It’s always something private and meaningful and a proof Jason is a hopeless romantic.

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…))

“You are my reason to keep going on.” I believe at some point after he came back from the dead, Jason had a really hard time finding a reason to keep living (finding out he was replaced as Robin, that Batman didn’t kill the joker, etc…). He was in a really dark place and numb to everything. But then, he met you and suddenly life wasn’t so terrible. After a while, he even finds himself excited to get up in the morning (or early afternoon if he’s been on a long patrol) and smiling at random times. He wants to make an effort for you, because you deserve his best self and the least he can do is try (you still love him at his worst though, and he still can’t wrap his head around it but he’s insanely grateful for it).

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

One night, Jason woke up in sweats and screaming his lungs out. He had a nightmare where you were kidnapped and tortured by the joker the way he was; it was the first time you were the victim in his nightmares (usually it was faceless people or himself, and even sometimes his brothers. But never you). He found himself wanting to have you in his arms, needing to have you in his arms, and that’s how he knew it wasn’t just a crush anymore, that he was in deep with you.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

People have this misconception that Jason is rough, judging by the everything about him. But you would have never foreseen him to be so delicate and gentle with you. He is very strong and can be rash sometimes, but with his lover, he is always careful. He has enough pain and hurt in his life there is now way he’d put the most important person in his life through that. You have to almost beg him to be rough with you, and he’ll only let go if he’s 100% sure you’re okay with it.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

Absolutely. He’s not big on PDA but he always wants to hold your hand, especially in public. He can get uncomfortable if there are too many people around, and the little subconscious squeezes of your hand never fails to bring him back to reality and help him focus on you instead of feeling trapped. Also he’s afraid of losing you in a crowd, even if he’s tall and could spot you easily. So yeah, his hand in yours is a constant.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

Depends on how you met really. It’s hard to say really, he might have seen you as an angel, or as a simple acquaintance until he discovered your character and you grew on him. He’s a versatile boy in the people he falls for.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

Not jealous per say, but insecure. Everytime he sees you talking with someone who seems to be (subconsciously or not) flirting with you, he gets this feeling you’ll suddenly realize you could do much better than him and leave him for someone less broken, less messed up than him. It creeps in his chest and hurts like a heart attack, and it only dies down when you inevitably come back in his arms and look at him like he’s your world. Then, the storm dies and he knows he at least got one more day with you. And as much as the idea of Jealous Jason showing you who you belong to (wink wink) is appealing, I don’t think it would happen unless it has been established both of you were into that kind of foreplay and he knows for sure you’re in for the long haul with him. Then it becomes a game rather than an actual insecurity thing.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

Jason’s kisses are soft and wholesome. You can feel every ounce of love and admiration he has for you, and even if they do get emotional or even dominant at some points, it’s never forecefull. Who initiated the first kiss is nebulous, I think it was more of a mutual thing than an unilateral decision. I like to think it happened in a magnet effect, where both parties met halfway because Jason is a very respectful person in general (except if you piss him off for real) and he wouldn’t make you uncomfortable by kissing you without your consent.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

It’s gotta be you. Jason, who’s afraid of saying it and getting rejected/mocked would definitely not want to get his feet wet first (what if you laugh? What if you leave?). He will show it in his way, but he’d wait for you to say the words first. But once it’s out there? Hooty hoot. He’ll say it like a mantra. He’ll never ever stop saying it at every occasion he gets. 

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

At the fair in your city. Spending the afternoon going from attraction to attraction, having fun in the small roller coaster you were pretty sure was one heavy loaded train away from toppling down. After sun down, you went from game booth to game booth, collecting small and colorful stuffed animals and eating everything sugary and fat you could get your hands onto. You were convinced you could beat the rigged shoot the duck game, and when you couldn’t, Jason stepped in and absolutely made the smug smirk drop from the guy’s face. You walked away with a giant Panda, sleepy as hell after you sugar rush, and Jason had to carry you out of the car bridal style. That picture you took on top of the ferris wheel is on his nightstand and is his favourite possession of his. 

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

No, he’s not that kind of guy. I think he’s much more into meaningful acts and gestures than buying your love. He would sometimes spoil you if the occasion came to it, but I don’t think he’d be the type to open up his wallet as a demonstration of love.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

Aqua blue. No other reason than the fact it’s probably the color the most opposite to red. While he absolutely loves to see you wear red things (it drives him crazy in the sweetest way), he doesn’t want to associate you with the darkest part of him. You’re the beautiful blue to his glaring red, because you’re the best thing in his life and he wants to outline and highlight you out as much as possible.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

I don’t think he has a signature pet name, he probably uses one that fits with the object of his affections and the history he has with them. He’d also be mindful of what you like and don’t like, and adjust them accordingly. 

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

Libraries. The old ones that smell of paper and leather. The ones with the shelves that climb up to the wall and the old worn seats that are just perfect to sit into and read for hours. Jason loves a calm environment and a quiet victorian library does the trick just well.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

Read, cuddles, adult cuddles... ;) I think Jason likes rainy days because it gives him an excuse to spend time with you at home. He’d probably bake something in the afternoon and you might or might not turn it into a flour war, make a mess in the kitchen but make a bonding activity of cleaning it up after (he and you know when to be kids and when to be mature and you both respect the line, and that’s why it’s so fun). Rainy days are domestic days and nothing is more pure or adorable than domestic Jason. It’s a hill I’ll die on. 

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

That’s a tricky one, because when Jason spirals down he has trouble getting out by himself. But when you are down, Jason will go to hell and back to make sure you feel better. He’ll cook you your favourite thing, skip patrol to stay by your side, do a dumb tik tok dance to put a smile on your face or hear you laugh. He’d be attentive to your needs and do everything in his power to help you.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Everything. Jason is a smart boy, he’d enjoy either talking about art, or about larger questions in the universe, or maybe about the birds that made a nest outside. Jason is incredibly easy to talk to when he’s receptive to the person talking to him, and that surprises anyone who knows him on the surface or less. 

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

Massages, but only by you. He trusts you, he is as comfortable as he can get with you seeing him shirtless with his scars (no professional masseur/se will ever get up close to him), and with you touching him in perhaps more sensitive or vulnerable places. He’d close his eyes and let involuntary moans when you’d unknot the tension in his muscles (and you’d secretly enjoy having such a force of nature all putty and soft under your hands). Then it’d be cuddle time and he would be relaxed as he’s ever been.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

That’s simple: you. You’re his beautiful partner, the only one he has eyes for, so the world should see how great you are. He’d find a way to place you in every conversation, whether it would be to point out that hey, you can do that too, or because he just can’t shut up about you. That earns him infinite teasing from his family on how soft he is for you, but he can’t bring himself to care because he loves you so much. 

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

Jason wanted to marry you, and you had talked about it enough as a couple that he knew you wanted it too. But he wanted to wait for the right moment and he couldn’t plan that. The proposal probably happened at an unexpected moment, like when you tried to make him soup when he got injured and ended up messing it up bad. You came back to the couch and apologized to him profusely, and with stars in his eyes he asked you to marry him. Or when one of his enemies tried to take you while taking out the trash, but you chucked the garbage bag AND the metal lid to them, and Jason got down on one knee the second you finished recounting the story, out of breath from running back inside. The wedding was a private affair (Roy was his best man) somewhere quiet and meaningful, without too many artifices or big set up. It was perfect for you two.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

This is a hard one. I feel like Jason would be into soul/jazz, in the style of Marvin Gaye, Nat King Cole or Frank Sinatra. To some extent he is a very old school person, and I believe music is one of the topics that falls into that old school side of him. It’s just a feeling, it’s how I imagine Jason. Unforgettable by Nat King Cole would be his to-go song when it comes to you. 

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

Oh yea. Jaybird’s got the ring in mind as soon as he knew you were the one. See Wedding above.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

I don’t think he’d want a pet, because he can be absent often, or he wouldn’t have enough time. But if he’d have to, he’d get a cat, I think. Walking a dog morning and night would get a little bit much, especially since sometimes he might have trouble getting out of bed after patrol. But a cat, a rescue stubborn older cat who has seen others, that would be a match. The cat would be distant at first, but one morning he’d wake up with his grump of a feline curled beside his pillow and purring, or after a rough day the cat would bring him its toy and Jason would just. Cry. Because this little creature became his friend. And it’s so pure. (Also Jason building cat trees and climbing installations for the cat? Satisfying image).

[drabbles-mc]

Adrenaline Rush

Kozik x OFC

Request by Anon: Hulloo there, may I get a sort of all sons x female reader, but mainly Kozik x female reader, where the clubhouse gets hit, and one of the guys gets hit - and they need something to stop the blood flow, so reader takes off her shirt to reveal her sports bra and ripped abs so that the wound can be attended while they wait for Tara, and the boys are like - damn, and when reader goes to get another shirt, Kozik follows and some form of smut ensues?

Warnings: language, blood, injuries, unprotected sex, brief mentions of bodily fluids

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: I didn’t do a reader insert for this because I try not to describe and particular kind of body-type for the sake of inclusivity. I know I never really made a point to mention that explicitly, but yea. So I just switched it up and changed it to an OFC, hope that’s okay! This was also my first time writing for Kozik, so hopefully it came out alright! Enjoy xo

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The clubhouse was nothing but chaos. It had never been a place associated with calm, but with everything that the MC had been getting themselves into lately it had been a bit more of a hotbed than usual. It all came to a head when a rival MC rolled up and opened fire on the clubhouse one night.

The gunshots were deafening, and bullets were flying everywhere. Before she even fully registered what was happening, she was getting shoved to the floor, pinned underneath someone else’s body in an attempt to keep her safe. Her head smacked off the hardwood and everything went fuzzy for a minute, but there was so much going on that she wasn’t sure that she would’ve been able to keep up with it anyhow.

She didn’t know how much time had passed. It could’ve been seconds or hours that she was trapped underneath the weight of another body. The first thing that felt clear to her, though, was the loss of the weight on top of her when they rolled off. They crouched down next to her in the silence that followed the bullets, shaking her shoulder.

“Alli? Hey, Alessia,” they lightly tapped the side of her face, “You with me?”

She knew the voice sounded familiar but her brain still felt too scrambled to place it as she forced herself up, nodding her head as she tried to regain her bearings, “I’m here.”

She shut her eyes tight for a few moments before reopening them, hoping that it would make things come in a little clearer. She was rewarded with being able to see who it was that had tackled her to the ground, most likely saving her life in the process. One end of his mouth kicked up in a smile when she looked at him, glad that she was conscious and seemingly unscathed, but she could still see the concern pooling in his eyes.

“You okay?”

She nodded, “I’m good. Fine. You?”

“I’m fine. Just wanted to make sure I didn’t break you.”

He stood up and held his hand out and pulled her up to her feet. She stumbled a step and collided with his chest. In a calmer moment they might’ve let it linger, but there was too much to think about. She stepped back and shook it off as she looked around the clubhouse.

“We whole?” she glanced over at Kozik.

“I don’t—”

“No!” Jax’s voice cut through the rest of the dull noise of the clubhouse.

Alessia and Kozik glanced at each other for a moment before quickly making their way over to the chapel. They both looked at Jax as they walked, seeing the way that he was clinging to his own arm, face contorted in pain. He saw their looks of concern and shook his head, nodding towards the table. They pushed their through the small crowd of people and were met with the sigh of Juice laying on the table, blood gushing from his leg.

“You call Tara?” Alessia glanced back over at Jax.

He nodded, “She’s on her way.”

“Fuck,” Juice groaned, writhing in pain on the table.

“Stop moving,” Alessia’s voice was firm as she tried to get her thoughts in order.

She was no Tara—she didn’t have any kind of medical degree or professional training. But she’d been around the MC long enough to pick up some practical first aid. She’d MacGyver’d her way through more than a few injuries for herself and for the members of the club. She just had to figure out how to keep him alive until Tara could get there to do the heavy lifting. He was losing blood fast and she was just hoping that the bullet didn’t hit an artery.

“Shit,” she pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment, “Alright.”

She peeled her tank top off over her head and folded it into a long, thin rectangle, her fingers moving quickly and methodically. All of her focus was on the task at hand. She didn’t even realize that she’d drawn the attention of more than a few hungry, wandering eyes as she stood there in her sports bra and jeans.

She glanced over at Kozik, “Belt.”

He’d been too busy staring at her, allowing his eyes to rake over her chest and abs to hear what she’d said, “Wh-what?”

She snapped her fingers and pointed to the buckle, “Your belt. Now. Please.”

Her voice had so much authority to it that he instantly started undoing his belt without questioning it. He had no idea what she would need it for, but at that point he really didn’t care. He slid it out of the loops of his jeans and handed it over to her. She laid her shirt over the wound, pressing down hard on it to give it some pressure. Juice tensed up and cursed loudly. Her apology was passive as she slid the belt around his thigh.

“It’s gonna get worse before it gets better,” she warned him as she got ready to pull the belt tight, “But it’s better than bleeding out in church, yea?”

Juice nodded, already clenching his fists in anticipation, “Yea. Just…just do it.”

They each took a deep breath. Her eyes were on his legs and his eyes were on her. She pulled on the leather strap, tightening it as best she could around his thigh. Juice clenched his jaw tight and did his best to stifle the groan of pain that was fighting to escape past his lips. There were a few moments of utter silence as they all waited to see if her makeshift solution was going to staunch the blood flow at all, let alone enough to buy enough time for Tara to come in and do damage control.

Her split-second decision-making paid off. The blood stopped flowing. It wasn’t going to be a long-term fix, but she figured that Tara couldn’t be far at this point. She looked over the rest of his body, making sure that nothing else needed to be taken care of. He looked a little pale, and extremely tired.

“Need anything else?” she asked.

Juice shook his head, resting it back on the table, “Just a fucking doctor.”

She chuckled, “We’re working on it,” she sighed, running her hands down her face, “You owe me a shirt and I’m about to collect,” she smiled, “Consider it your medical bill.”

“Done,” despite the pain shooting through him, Juice managed a laugh, “Top drawer in my dorm.”

“You’re a gem, Juicy,” she called back as she walked out of chapel towards the dorms.

The men all watched her walk away. It took him a few moments to snap back to reality, but once he did Kozik was hot on her heels. He caught up to her in a few long strides as she was about to push Juice’s door open. She heard him behind her but didn’t say anything, mind still reeling from everything the day had already entailed.

“That was, um, impressive,” he said as you started to walk over to Juice’s dresser.

“We do what we gotta do, right?”

“Right.”

She turned around to face him once she had found a shirt that she wanted to take as her own. Surprise was written all over her face when she saw the way that Kozik was looking at her. She felt the heat beginning to rise in her face, but she tried not to let it show that his stare was getting to her. Despite the fact that he was looking at her with nothing but admiration, Alessia found herself wanting to quickly pull her fresh shirt down over her head to cover herself up.

When she went to lift it up, though, he stepped in to stop her. He pushed the shirt down, taking it in his own hands, “Don’t.”

She watched him as he discarded the shirt, tossing it over onto Juice’s bed. Once his hands were free, they instantly found their way to her sides, running all over her exposed skin as he pulled her closer to him. She wanted to blame the fact that she wasn’t playing hard to get on the adrenaline of the day, and the fact that he had definitely saved her life only a few minutes before. But she knew in the back of her mind that this had been building for a while. There was a reason that he jumped to make sure she was okay before anyone else.

Before she could overthink it, she put her hands on the back of his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. He immediately pushed and leaned into her, hands roaming all over her, grabbing whatever he could hold onto. She bit down on his bottom lip and he let out a low moan as his mouth continued to move against hers. Her hands snaked up into his hair and gave it a light tug.

He quickly wrapped his arms around her and lifted her, prompting her to wrap her legs around his waist. With ease he carried her over towards the bed, not taking his lips off of hers.

Just as he was about to lay her down, she pulled away from him, “In here?”

“What?” he smirked, “Not like he’s going to be using it anytime soon.”

She laughed, “C’mon, he almost died today. Don’t need to disrespect his room, too.”

“You saved his life! Least he could do to repay you,” he laughed as he kissed along her neck.

She couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face. She shook her head slightly but didn’t protest any further as she let him gently lay her down on the bed. He made quick work of pulling off her shoes and jeans. She couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face as he climbed onto the bed, positioning himself over her. His lips crashed back into hers as his hands ran down the toned lines of her stomach, making her shiver.

Alessia reached down and undid the button and zipper on his pants. She could feel the rumble inside his chest as he tried to contain the laugh building up inside him. He pulled his lips off of hers to push his pants down the rest of the way, a smirk etched into his expression. He peeled his shirt off as well and threw it to the floor.

She hooked her legs around his waist, pulling him as close as he would let her. He kissed her, biting down onto her bottom lip as he slowly slid inside her. She tried to stifle her moans but it wasn’t any use. Her legs shook and trembled and she knew that it was no longer just from the adrenaline of the day.

His fingertips dug into her thighs as he thrusted into her. She tilted her head back, letting out a moan, and he took that moment to bite down on the soft, sensitive skin of her neck. She tangled her fingers into his hair and held him there, not wanting to give up the sensation.

“Fuck,” she breathed, “Don’t stop.”

Stopping was the absolute last thing on his mind. He felt the way that her nails set into his back, the way that her body tensed around him, and it only encouraged him to keep going. He increased his pace and let out a low moan as her nails raked down his back. She bit down onto his shoulder, attempting to muffle her screams as she came. His nails dug into her sides as he felt him bite down onto him. It sent a brief jolt of pain through him but he loved it. He cursed quietly under his breath as he approached his own release, pulling out of her right before he did so.

He collapsed next to her on the bed, looking over at her as they both attempted to catch their breath. She glanced over at him and when her eyes caught his, they both couldn’t help but to break into laughter. She ran her hands down her face, wiping away the sweat. Kozik carefully got up and went to grab his boxers and jeans.

“Let me get something to for you to clean yourself up with,” he chuckled as he glanced around the room.

“Time for you to give up your shirt for the cause, Kozik,” she laughed as she propped herself up on her elbows.

“What? No, Alli, c’mon, please,” he laughed as he picked his shirt up off the floor, “Don’t do this.”

She held her hand out, “Hand it over. Time to pay your dues,” she laughed as he threw the shirt at her, “Besides, you’ve got other clothes here anyway. What’s the big deal?”

She threw it back at him after she had wiped herself off, shaking her head with a smile as he dodged it, carefully choosing where to pick it up off the ground from. She set about getting her underwear and jeans back on, and finally pulling on the shirt that she had decided to borrow from Juice.

The two of them stood in the middle of Juice’s room. Alessia was redoing her pony tail, and Kozik couldn’t help but to stand there and watch with admiration. She could see him looking at her out of the corner of her eye and made a point to not comment on it.

“Y’know,” she looked at herself in the mirror with a chuckle, “I might be onto something here. I look good in Juice’s clothes.”

Kozik laughed and shook his head, “You look better than he does, for sure.”

The two of them slowly made their way out of the room. They looked at each other for a moment, each with a small smile on their face, before heading off in different directions. Alessia made her way back towards the chapel to see if there was anything else to be done, or if Tara had shown up yet, and Kozik headed back towards his own space to get himself a fresh shirt. As she walked away, she could feel his fingers trace lightly along her lower back for a moment before she had stepped out of reach. She shook her head slightly and tried to contain her smile as she headed back into the chaos.

[vinylhazza]

Morgan, i NEED a blurb about e not being able to stop playing with your pussy. Like imagine it’s late at night and your reading or something and he’s just under the covers kitten licking you and just non stop touching you, poking his finger in your hole every so often and you tell him “come on e i wanna sleep” and he just comes up, lies on your chest and is like “but i wanna...” and starts to finger you while kissing your neck making you give in to him😫🥺

irresistible | ethan dolan

oh my God he literally would.not.leave.you.alone.

this could be when you’re at dinner, reading your book like you said, watching a show, on your laptop, just laying out by the pool, on the phone, he’s fucking always touching you. hands always roaming. he never stops. and it makes you feel powerful because - are you that irresistible? and the answer is yes. to ethan, you are just that irresistible.

it was your favorite book in the whole world and even if it was your thousandth time reading it, it still got you so enraptured every single time. you had always been such a heavy reader all your life, and when you had those pages open in front of you - not much else caught your attention. you were gone. that is - until you met ethan and noticed just how much he craved your attention and got a little jealous when you were so engrossed in other tasks besides loving up on him. it didn’t matter if it was laundry or dishes, making the bed, watering the flowers, or other mundane tasks that a human needs to do. you soon realized just how clingy the man actually was for you.

it wasn’t in a negative “you can’t love anything else besides me” way. it was really just this innocent need he had that he got a little carried away with sometimes. nothing spiteful or truly vendictive. it was just that ethan loved to see you so happy, and he almost couldn’t help himself when he noticed the joy radiating off of you - and he couldn’t come and make it even better for you. he always crept in to bring that happiness to the next level, that’s why you never minded about his subtle dose of clinginess.

it started out as innocent little whines while he’s laying next to you in bed, little pecks on the cheek, tracing patterns into the soft skin of your arms and down to your thighs. it was always “pay attention to me now” with a soft whisper that made goosebumps pop up all over your body.

but none of that was as distracting as his new habit. ethan has become obsessed with playing with your pussy at all times of the day. that meant he was either down on his knees, worshipping you with his tongue, slurping and stroking and sucking, slapping his lips against your folds and moaning into you with this verbato that - fuck - sends shudders down to the tips of your fingers. or he was rubbing slow deliberate circles on her clit with his fingers. maybe sometimes both. the sensations shoot through you like a zap of electricity. it’s maddening, just so incredibly distracting you’re surprised you get anything done at all.

you used to wish for an alternative for his touchiness, but you’re not sure this is what you were thinking. but you can’t say you’re complaining. he was just so damn good with his tongue too. the days he decided to bury his head between your thighs really sent you over a wild ledge. had you thinking thoughts that would forbid you from the holy land forever. made you crave him when he wasn’t there, miss his tongue, but just seeing his face made you tired somewhere inside, you knew a bone shaking orgasm would ensue soon.

your reading time was your save haven. that dedicated time had saved you from many mental breakdowns over the years, and having ethan flicking and mumbling and moaning into your folds had your eyes scanning the same meaningless paragraph for at least ten minutes straight. your sighs didn’t stop him, he was far too focused on your slick heat in front of him.

he rushed to her bedside. he rushed to her bedside. he rushed to her bedside. he rushed to her bedside. he rushed to her bedside. he rushed to her bed-

oh for christ’s sake.

“e...c’mon baby i really need to focus on this. it’s getting to a good part,” you whine, wiggling your hips in an attempt to detach his lips from your core.

no such luck, he was hungry and when he needed you, he needed you. which happened to be all the time, but he just couldn’t stop.

“you can read to me if that helps,” he mumbled against you, laying his tongue flat and licking a long strip up the center of you - your hips jerking in his hands.

“fuck- i can’t do that e, you’re distracting me i don’t even know what i’m reading anymore,” you gasp, trying to not give into him, your body exhausted from the long day anyhow, “can you please just come up here and lay down with me? we can go to sleep and continue this in the morning.”

at last, ethan is pulling away with a smack of his lips and a pout, only to begrudgingly let go of your plush hips and crawl up your body to lay on your chest, nuzzling into your breasts the best he can. the book you were reading being propped open by nothing but your left thumb, hanging in the air before you doggy ear the corner of the page (something your teachers always yelled at you for growing up) and set it halfway hanging off on the nightstand with a sigh. he’s grumbling about you tasting so delicious and it’s ‘not his fault you look hot all the time’, something that finally gets you to crack a fond smile and rub a hand through his hair to soothe him. you know he’s coming from a place of want and kindness. but it’s still hilarious for him to be upset that you said no one time to him eating you out. he forgets that you even let him play with your pussy during a family dinner at your mothers house. now that, is a story you’d never tell a soul. your cheeks burn up just thinking about it.

“you really know how to woo a girl,” you giggle softly, rolling your eyes and smiling just a bit wider when he snuggles down, smoothing a hand across the expanse of your ribs, running his thumb over the skin just under your left breast.

before it could turn into a bittersweet moment to file away in the “cherish forever” part of your brain, his hand is sliding slowly back drown your torso and to your mound again, rubbing away once again.

“seriously sweetie i’m so tired i wanna sleep,” you coo to him, knowing he’s only calming himself down and distracting himself from whatever thoughts haunted him like they always did during the night.

“but i wanna...” he whimpers, trailing off and raising his head just enough to tuck right into your neck, kissing at the soft silky skin under his lips, smoothing his tongue over sore spots he starts to suck and bite right in the middle, then peppering down next to your collarbone. and it’s hard, it really is, to resist when he sounds so helpless and desperate for you. made you feel so wanted.

then you feel it, his finger slowly entering you down below, the wet sound of his entry making him smile into your neck. he moves slowly, in case you get mad and try to slap his hand away - which you’d never dream of doing. even though you are exhausted out of your mind, slightly irritated from being interrupted from your book...you couldn’t deny the power he held over you and how convincing he was when he touched you like he did.

you really don’t know what to say, not when he’s sneaking yet another finger inside of your clenching hole, humming that you’re a “good girl” and feel “so wet” and “so tight” around his fingers. he’s a charmer, you much say, even when performing such a dirty act. he really got you going more than any man you had ever been with. he knew just how to twist you and bring you right to your knees...or rather...he knew exactly how to get those pretty little legs to spread right open for him to feast as he rightfully should.

with a huff you’re grabbing onto his wrist and grabbing at his chin at the same time, making him look at you and really understand what you’re about to say. you want him to knew the urgency of the situation. you want to waste no time. no foolery. no dilly dallying. no nonsense. pleasure then sleep.

“you better make this good, because i promise you i am no stranger to cruel and petty punishment. you want to interrupt me that’s fine, but you better make it worth my while.”

and it’s the look of pure filth in his eyes that comes after, it shocks the sleep right out of you. has his fingers pumping faster, tongue peaking from his mouth to wet his lips. he curls at the knuckle, digging up into you with a force unlike any other, ramming his fingers into you with incredible speed.

with your full submission, ethan leans into kiss you, really kiss you. a slow, deep, passionate kiss that knocks the air right from your lungs. normally you would cringe at the taste of yourself on his lips, but with the pleasure lighting up every nerve in your body, you couldn’t seem to give two fucks about the sweet but salty taste on the cushiony pink that had turned into your safe place. in fact, it turned you on even more that he ravaged you like a wild animal, that you were tasting your own arousal on his lips...and he gave it to you like a gift. he dipped his tongue in to slide against your own while his fingers pumped into you faster, harder, deeper. the wet sounds of your cunt - so delicious - bounced off the walls of his room, getting you dangerously close to the surely heavenly ending you know was coming.

your hips rock and roll against his hand, matching his thrusts, fist grabbing tight to his white t-shirt, pulling him impossibly closer and letting out that moan you’d been holding in since he started tonguing at your whole a half hour ago.

“that’s it baby, let me here you...” he praises you, smiling while he leans back to look down at his fingers plunging in and out of you at an impressive speed, “i knew you wanted this.”

with his praise, the volume of your whimpers and moans turn to louder whines and squeals - the hand wrapped around his fist now digging crescent shaped nail marks into the tanned skin. he hissed at the pain of your assault, but it only made his blackened pupils grow larger.

“i’m so close e- fuck i can feel it,” you wince at the small sound of your voice, knowing you must look so gone and blissed out with your eyes shut tight, lip trapped between your teeth. this only causes him to speed up further, pumping and kissing you deeper. giving you pleasure is what gave him pleasure, and he’s loving every minute of it.

you cum with a scream, the kind of scream that honestly shocked both you and ethan - the sheer blind pleasure coursing through you had your thighs shaking from underneath the covers- the hand on his wrist tightening like a vice - the walls of your push constricting and fluttering rapidly around both of his fingers still pressed deep into you. he pumps you through your orgasm, peppering kisses across your face, whispering terms of endearment over and over after every peck to your skin. i love you, i need you, i adore you, beautiful angel, there we go princess, so sweet for me always, doing so good. he pulls his fingers from you slowly, smiling when you whine at the sudden feeling of being so empty. you loved being filled by him. you indulged on the pleasant feeling and bonding that cockwarming provided on many nights. it’s something that soothed you right to sleep.

when you’ve finally calmed down enough to flutter your eyes back open, you see that he had tucked both fingers into his mouth, and was then sucking around them eagerly, pulling them from his mouth with a lazy smile. without another word you’re pulling him down by the back of his neck for another kiss, a kiss that is then slow paced and pacient, sliding your tongue into his mouth to taste once more. smiling into the kiss, you pull back with a satisfied sigh, holding his hazle eyes captive with yours.

“better?” you grin, pecking right against the rosy red of his blushing cheek, holding him there while you wait for his tired little nod.

“much better.”

[heyheydidjaknow]

What is this witchcraft? Me? Not posting after midnight? I’m shocked to my very core. Anyways, this is one of my longer chapters. If you have any feedback, do not hesitate. As always, previous chapter (and next when applicable) is at the bottom.

Chapter 5

“Dude, hear me out here.” You are vibrating like a kid on pixie sticks. You slide your hands apart as if to display written words. “Lightsaber.”

“What’s a—”

“Donnie.” You put your hand up before he can continue. “Imma stop you right there. I am going to take your hand and kindly ask you to tell me that you know of, or at least have heard of, Star Wars.”

“I do not.”

“That is a fucking crime.”

You have been sitting with him for approximately an hour, watching him dismantle a “Kraang bot” as you register for school and start ordering supplies. You are quickly starting to realize his knowledge of anything outside the bounds of science is limited to whatever he read by virtue of his father, which consisted of one book on Greek mythology, one on the Italian renaissance, one on ancient Japanese history, and one on Japanese folklore, or anything he learned via the interests of his brothers. Because of this, he seems to know exactly jack-shit about things you consider common knowledge, such as the concept of foreshadowing or Poptarts or Hitler outside of a general association with the name and emotion of some sort, leading to interactions like the one you’re having right now.

“It’s not a crime,” he defended. “It's just I was never really interested in that kinda stuff.”

“But it’s Star Wars!” You throw your hands up. “How do you not know of Star Wars, at least?”

“Look, you’re saying it’s really good, right?”

“Well, yeah.” Your voice lowered.

“Why would somebody throw out a good movie?”

You sigh. “Yeah, that’s fair. But!” You point at him. “But I need to watch it with you, if only out of principle. Besides,” you settle down, “it’s a very… traditionally plotted story. I still have to give you that lesson.”

“Yeah, but after I finish this.” He pushes his laptop to the side, picking up the soldering iron and moving back over to the pile of metal you know will become Metalhead.

You nod in agreement, leaning forward in your chair to watch him fuse wires. “You know what?” You smile. “I may give you shit, but it is really cool watching your whole process.”

“Hm?” He looks up at you from his lean forward.

“Well,” you shrug, folding your legs on the chair, “I just mean that it’s cool seeing how you go about building all this junk that is just… what’s the word?”

“Untraditional?”

“Revolutionary.”

He has a funny look on his face. “You think so?”

“Oh, totally.” You nod eagerly. “I told you that I thought you were one of fiction’s greatest minds, didn’t I?”

“No, you didn’t.” His face is turning red.

“Really? I swear I did the day I met you…” Your eyebrows furrow as you try to remember.

“You said something about inspiration.” He smiled softly, voice airy.

“Oh, then I—well, it kinda is the same thing.” You rub the back of your neck, feeling your own face heat up. “Must’ve—uh—misspoke. I do that,” you trail off, “kinda a lot.”

“I think it’s cute.”

You feel your heart skip a beat. ‘Oh come the fuck on. Really?’ “See,” you hear your voice rise a register, “that is so not fair.”

“Huh?” The color drains from his face as he tries to remember what sounds just came out of his mouth. “What did I say?”

“You’re not allowed to just say shit like that.” You cover your face with your hands, feeling your heart swell. “You’re not my boyfriend or anything.”

“Wait, what did I say?”

“Nope. Shut up.” You try to calm yourself down. “You didn’t mean it, whatever it was. It’s fine.”

He blinks, very confused. “You sure?”

“Totally.” Your voice is tight. “One hundred and ten percent sure.”

“You can’t be one hundred ten percent sure.” He looks back down at his project, writing your behavior off. “It’s mathematically impossible

“You wanna bet?” You start looking around the room, prior embarrassment now replaced with a desire to win this artificial conflict. “Got graph paper?”

He scoffs. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding right now?” You lean across the table, tilting his head up to face you properly, determination burning in your eyes. Your voice lowers. “I am going to show you one hundred and ten present sure right here and now as a matter of principle.”

He swallowed, face going red again. “One moment, please.” He fumbles around for a piece of paper and hands it to you, along with a marker.

“Thank you.” You smile sweetly, acting as if nothing happened as you start to sketch. “Give me a bit of time and I will show you one hundred and ten percent sure.”

He rolls his eyes, a smile coming back to his face as he calms down. “Sure you will.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Go back to your transformer while I blow your freakin mind, kay?”

“What’s—”

“Don’t even.”

“Gotcha.”

You chew on your tongue absentmindedly, remembering how much you love spacing out pixels when you hear a notification on your phone. You pull it out, read it, sigh, slide out of your chair. “I’ll be right back,” you promise, heading for the door. “I gotta make sure plot shit happens.”

“You know where to find me.”

“Always do.” You shoot him finger guns as you drag the door closed. You walk over to the brothers, currently engaged in their digital hockey match. You watch, waiting for Raphael’s inevitable victory— ‘Wow, my life is getting pretty damn predictable.’—before clearing your throat to catch their attention.

“So,” you smile, “what’s the game plan for tonight?”

They seem to not understand the question. “Yeah, Leo,” Raphael prompts, shooting a look at him, “what’s the game plan for tonight?”

He paused. “Is there some sort of sport thing happening?”

Your heart drops. “Leonardo,” you ask again, voice lowering, “you have a plan for the thing happening tonight, right?”

“What thing?”

You grab his shoulders. “The spill,” you clarify, voice quiet and sharp. “The mutagen spill. The spill I told you about three days ago?”

His eyes widen. “You said that was happening Friday!”

“Today is Friday!” You let go, throwing your hands in the air out of pure frustration. “That’s why I told you today is Friday! What, did you think I just liked talking about days of the week? That it’s my hobby to keep track of how many days I haven’t died?” ‘I mean, it is, but that’s not the point.’

“Well, it can’t be that important if you forgot about it.” Raphael leaned against the machine. “We’ll just go in and bust some heads. No problem.”

You groan. “Do you guys just have something against planning? I swear everything with you guys has to happen at the very last minute.”

“We don’t need the time to plan. I dunno if you noticed, Y/N, but our ‘plans’ aren’t exactly plan worthy.” He shrugged. “You just have to beat the Kraang out of them and that’s the end of it. It’d be like planning to raid a trailer home.”

You sigh. ‘They’re teenage boys. This is only episode six. Deep breaths.’ “Just… please try to heed my warnings in the future, alright? The last thing we need is for something to sneak up on us.”

“Alright, alright.” Leo focuses his eyes on you. “When is the mutagen getting spilled?”

“Tomorrow. The show wasn’t very specific on times, but some time tomorrow.”

“Then let’s air on the side of caution and assume they mean midnight. What’s the time?”

You pull out your phone. “Seven forty-five.”

“That should be enough time to get there, scope out the place, and be home before dinner.”

You feel the ground shake under you as a metallic clang pierces the air.

That is your cue to leave for fear of getting hit with a laser. “You can’t beat Metalhead. Also, Mikey calls him Metalhead.” You start heading out. “I’d stay and watch you guys waste time trying, but I haven’t eaten today, so I’m gonna grab food and meet you there.” You run out before they can ask any more questions.

If nothing else, all the running has been helping you get in shape. You are not typically the type to take runs, but you also are not typically the type to be pressed to see people. Loneliness is one hell of a motivator, as it turns out, and you were starving in more ways than one. You stop by the first place you see, grabbing some food item with a name you already forget—some sort of burrito, you think—and climb a fire escape belonging to a building overlooking the warehouse in question. You sit on the edge of the building, dangling your legs over the side as you wait for them to get here.

‘Do I like him?’ You pause at your question, mid-bite. ‘I mean, I had a crush on him when I watched the show, but this attachment isn’t romantic affection, is it? I’ve had crushes before, and I’m acting too suave for this to be that.’ You swallow, taking a drink out from your nameless cup. ‘Considering my emotional state? It’s highly likely I’m just latching onto him for lack of anyone or anything truly familiar in my life right now.’ You sigh. ‘But, then again, if that were the case, this feeling what be more familial, wouldn’t it?’ You conclude, whether you are attracted to him romantically or not, it is entirely unfair to both of you to pursue a romantic relationship with him unless he makes the first move. You have more faith in his critical thinking skills than in your own, anyhow. Besides, he acted irrationally enough around April as is; introducing a proper romantic relationship into the mix sounds a bit too risky, especially at such a vulnerable time in his development.

You hear the distant sounds of mechanical joints approaching. ‘Already liking this better than ninja silence.’ You spin around, hopping off the ledge and onto the roof proper as you go to properly admire the metal wonder.

It looks infinitely cooler than the show would have you believe, if possible. Each piece of its hull has a past and you can see it in every scratch, every dent. It wasn’t anywhere near perfect; you can easily see where Donatello had hammered out the shell of the artificial terrapin, where he had had to settle for using concrete, even the faintest ghosts of the pennies making up its chest piece. It was a glorious collage.

You run over, going down on your knees to look it over. “This thing is so fucking cool,” you gush, shuffling around it. “Like, totally fucking awesome!”

You can hear the pride in his voice, the excitement. “I know, right?”

You hop back to your feet, keeping yourself from jumping up and down for the sake of pride. “That is the coolest shit ever!” You grin, sitting back down and taking a drink from your soda. “You never cease to amaze, Hamato.”

“You think?” He sounds almost like a puppy, excited as he is.

“Dude, totally.” You sigh, feeling yourself mellow out a little. “But, more importantly,” you continue, clapping your hands together once, “we should be properly watching the warehouse in case they need backup.”

“Oh, right!” The robot stomped over to you, standing slightly behind you as you dangle your feet over the edge.

You take another drink of soda, feeling the excitement in the air dying down as you look out over the buildings. ‘It’s oddly peaceful up here. Must not have started the attack yet.’ You swing your legs back and forth as silence settled between you two.

After a moment, he cleared his throat. “I meant to ask you before,” he said stiffly, “but how did you know this was happening today? You never explained it.”

You silently thank him for cutting the tension, turning around to face him properly. “Well,” you start, lacing your fingers together around your cup, “remember when I said that the show Leo watches shows up a lot in episodes?”

“Yeah.” You are not exactly sure why he sounds so interested in a detail like this.

“And you know how you watch on cable?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, as it turns out,” you dig into your jacket pocket, “they release television guides, telling people when certain shows are playing, what times they’re playing, shit like that. So,” you conclude, admittedly smug that you had reasoned this part out, “as long as I know what episode is playing during that episode, I can accurately predict any actions that happen during the periods in which you guys have cable access.”

“So, you map out what episodes are scheduled to play on what days and create a timeline around that?”

“Exactly. Not a bad plan.” You pull up a document, showing him the timeline you’ve created with this information. “As long as you guys are on the grid, and as long as Leo sticks to watching that specific channel, I’ll be able to predict the movements of every major player in the series, which means I’ll be able to determine who we can and can’t fuck with based off how they act later down the line, and I’ll be able to give you proper foresight when the situation—”

Your plan is interrupted by a section of the ledge directly next to you to gain a new hole. You leap to your feet, quickly backing up and almost tripping on Metalhead as you regain your senses and hear Mikey’s panicked yelling.

“That doesn’t look good.” You watch the machine starts backing up. “I’m gonna go in and help.”

Something strikes you. “Donnie, real quick, be careful not to run into anything. The technology you’re using is susceptible to Kraang influence.”

“Relax. I got this.” Metalhead gives you a thumbs up before running and leaping off the building, crashing through the glass roof feet first.

You sigh, getting to your feet. ‘Theme of today’s episode is not to rely on technology. Granted,’ you muse, starting to climb down the fire escape, ‘this probably could’ve been solved by adopting a more intuitive controller and having a bit more experience, but I digress.’ You hop the last few feet down. ‘In any case, I’ve done all I can. If that isn’t enough, so be it.’

You hear the explosion as you start walking back to your apartment. ‘He should be coming here in about three or so minutes.’

If you did not know how this would end, you would be much more concerned. As it stands? You know the score before the game is even played.

You wave hello to the doorman as you walk to the elevator. You tap your foot absentmindedly to the elevator music, walk to your apartment, unlock the door, and step inside, picking a large box off the ground in front of it before locking the door.

You walk over and set the box down on your bed, walking back to the kitchen. You pull a Tupperware box from on top of it, pulling a red velvet cupcake from the container and setting it on the counter.

You had died the first time you had made cupcakes. When you had tried making them again from your mother’s recipe, you had found yourself surprisingly unintimidated as you slid them into the oven. Of course, you had sat directly in front of the oven and stared at it during the entirety of the baking process, but you were hardly going to let the worst experience of your life separate you and the most nostalgic, joy-inducing feeling there was. Who else was going to make cupcakes?

You dry your hands, not realizing you had washed them as you pick the confection off the counter. You peel off a portion of the wrapper, biting into the savory and sweet bundle of joy in your mouth. You moan softly in satisfaction, licking the icing off your lips as you walk back over to your bed, sitting down and reaching for the knife under your pillow. You slice the tape, sliding your baby out of its packaging with a soft smile. You reach back in, taking another bite as you pull out a smaller bag. You set the box on the ground, tossing the now-empty wrapper into it and wiping the excess frosting on your jeans, pulling the instrument from its packaging.

Your father had taught you how to play a couple of years back. You never thought you would get weepy over a musical instrument, and yet, here you are, cradling a hunk of wood costing a little more than one day’s allowance. You purse your lips, running your fingers along the neck as you check for any defects in its construction. You crack open the bag and, after about half an hour of fiddling and research, manage to get the strings onto the violin bass without snapping it. It wasn’t an exact replica, but it was close enough that you feel comfortable holding it, feel joy hearing it come in tune.

You play a scale. It sounds like heaven to you.

You put the rest of the trash in the box, laying down next to the first item you have bought. A stand for it would be arriving tomorrow. That makes you smile.

This is the start of something healthy for you. Ironically, it has started with you eating a cupcake, but, still, you have begun to come to terms with your situation. Granted, you have a long way to go; you still have not deleted your social media, wanting to look out for photographs and clips from the funeral, but this is a step in the right direction. You have to believe that.

One small accomplishment: you have kept your apartment sparklingly clean. It is not as if you have much to do, but none the less.

You find your fingers playing an almost lullaby. You stop yourself, not wanting to fall asleep before getting yourself situated. You set your instrument to the side, getting up to close and shelve your cupcake box for future use. You wash your hands again.

You slide your jacket off and throw it onto a seat, knowing you will likely need it tomorrow. You make it a habit to at least get outside once per day, now. You understand that, even if it is not vital, you need to establish a routine. You must keep moving, if only for your sake of mind.

You check to see the curtains are closed, strip, put your clothes in a hamper. You take a shower, comb out your hair, brush your teeth. You do these things consciously, now. You change into a shirt for sleeping, crawling into bed and turning off the light. Tomorrow, you will have to go down to the laundromat to wash your few changes of clothes. You will eat three meals. You will drink eight glasses of water.

You set your phone on the nightstand, plugging it in. You reach over, fingers curling around the handle of the kitchen knife as you slide it under your pillow.

You close your eyes, feeling your heart pang again tonight.

“Goodnight,” you call to no one. “Love you.”

Silence.

It is better than it was. You do not cry tonight, wrapping your arms around your pillow.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” you mumble, feeling yourself drift into unconsciousness. “Love you too.”

Table of Contents

Chapter 4 Chapter 6 part 1

[guqin-and-flute]

How did jgy deal with his migraines when he was at the Unclean Realm? Can nmj recognize when he’s about too have one?

@little-smartass said:  a-fu gets jgy sick when they’re at the unclean realm… he cannot possibly travel… but lxc needs to get back to cloud recesses… “you’ll just have to nurse him back to health da-ge” says huaisang very innocently, who wants them to make up almost as much as lxc

[I’m going to smush these two together because you are both brilliant.]

Nie Mingjue doesn’t want to recognize the signs; actually resents a little that he knows the man so well, still. That he still worries at all about him. 

The visit was doomed from the start, from the moment that Lan Xichen lands with A-Fu in his arms, hands him to Jin Guangyao and their son promptly sneezes directly into his face. It would have been amusing if it had happened to either of his other fathers, but as it was, the familiar cycle begins to creakingly turn again. 

Lan Xichen anxiously eyes Jin Guangyao, running his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and gently asks how he was feeling. Jin Guangyao smiles and shakes his head and passes it off, as he always has; “I’m fine, Er-ge. It was probably from the altitude change or the cold--nothing says he’s sick.”

Nie Mingjue wants to scoff at his naivete, but holds his counsel. 

A-Fu begins to cough, to complain of a headache, of being cold and tired and, helplessly, they take care of him as best they can with soup and rest and snuggles, knowing what is coming. Jin Guangyao maintains his smile throughout. When Xichen worries if he should even be taking his turn at A-Fu’s bedside when needed, he simply points out that he has very certainly been infected already. “This is our time to be with him,” he reasons, as if he’s being very logical and placating, expression affectionately patient. “I don’t want to waste it worrying about something that hasn’t happened yet.” Nie Mingjue wants to shake him for purposefully continuing to push his luck in what could only be called idiocy. 

The adults are having a private dinner in Nie Mingjue’s rooms when Jin Guangyao coughs for the first time and immediately holds up his hands as 2 eagle eyed gazes swivel to him with intensity. “I swallowed wrong,” he insists with that stupid little apologetic smile that means he is hiding something. “I’m fine.”

He is not.

The next few days, Nie Mingjue watches him--out of annoyance more than concern--as he slowly but surely starts displaying all the signs of ignoring his own limitations and continuing to push. His dark circles deepen, his smile wilts at the corners, and, when he thinks no one is looking, it drops off completely and he closes his eyes and just breathes. Every time he coughs, he winces, stops his hand from going to his head. Idiot. Nothing they say can make him listen because they have both tried in the past. He just widens his eyes in that way he does, smiles and finds a way to squirm out of the conversation.  A-Fu trying to run around while still lingeringly ill was as good a distraction as any. He rolls his neck and forgoes meals, claiming he has no appetite. As he always has done when it starts to get bad. 

Idiot.

It was the last day of their visit and Lan Xichen had insisted on spending the night with Jin Guangyao, a fact that Nie Mingjue is trying and, for the most part, succeeding in not being disgruntled about--thought it’s not as if the man couldn’t take a damn nap every once in a while and avoid this whole thing. It’s not as if he doesn’t know how sick he gets. He is incredibly unsurprised when Xichen slips from the room and carefully closes the door behind, lips pressed and brow furrowed. 

“It’s one of his headaches, isn’t it?”

Lan Xichen sighs and nods, running his thumb over Shouyue’s sheath. “It is. Not as bad as it’s been in the past, but bad enough. He admitted he hasn’t been sleeping well, probably because of what he caught from A-Fu and it’s probably triggered it. So, now it’s both.”

Nie Mingjue vents an unimpressed sound through his nose, arms folded and Lan Xichen shoots him a gently reprimanding look. “Da-ge, he’s in pain.”

“And if he had just taken care of himself like an adult, he wouldn’t have to be.”

With another sigh, Xichen tugs one of Nie Mingjue’s braids and moves down the hall away from the door, wordlessly asking him to follow, which he obliges. “Is A-Fu packed up and ready?”

Nie Mingjue nods, reaching out to take Lan Xichen’s hand as they walk, which makes him smile--which was the whole point. “He is. You know he’ll be alright. He always is.”

Xichen grimaces. “He can’t fly today, he hasn’t the strength.”

Nie Mingjue grimaces right back, but tilts his face to the wall so he doesn’t see. He isn’t exactly surprised, but having the prospect confirmed doesn’t make him any happier. “I figured. Well, it’s not as if I’m going to kick him out, he can stay until he recovers. We have plenty of servants.”

As they reach the main hall where A-Fu is playing some intense game that involves Huaisang’s feet and cascades of shrieking cackles, Lan Xichen looks as if he wants to say something but instead shakes his head with a sad smile, then leans in and kisses his cheek. “Behave?” He murmurs into his ear, the warmth of his breath making Nie Mingjue suppress a shiver.

“I’m not going to harass a sick man, Xichen. I’m not that heartless,” he rolls his eyes and leans his temple against his. 

“Mmm,” Lan Xichen hums, setting his chin down on his shoulder briefly. “You’re not heartless at all, A-Jue.”

After Nie Mingjue has gathered the both of them into a hug and pressed kisses to their cheeks and instructed them to fly safe--to which A-Fu had cheerfully reminded him that he had no say in--he reluctantly turns to Huaisang. “Jin Guangyao--”

“Is sick! I know, I heard from a little bird named A-Fu who very much wanted to stay an extra day, apparently,” Huaisang cuts in airly, tapping his closed fan against his lips. “Very distressing.”

“Xichen had a meeting with a Caiyi town official and it couldn’t wait,” Nie Mingjue agrees almost grudgingly. “I was wondering if perhaps you--”

“Oh, I couldn’t, I have sabre practice today!”

Huaisang does a very good job of holding his disbelieving stare, eyes wide and guileless. At least for a little while, after which he begins to waft his fan in distracting little circles, sucking his lips in to keep his smile from spreading across them. “Fine,” Nie Mingjue says, testily. “I’ll ask Zonghui--”

“Oh, he’s the one who is teaching me sabre practice today,” Huaisang blurts hastily, edging sideways for the doorway. 

“Huaisang--”

“Ah! I’m late! Farewell, Da-ge!” he calls as he sidles right out the door, leaning back in only to say, “Tell San-ge that I said hello! Hope he feels better!” This last bit is steadily fainter as his footsteps retreat at speed down the hallway.

Though he feels distinctly annoyed by the incredibly transparent lie, he heaves a sigh and sheathes Baxia in her stand by his throne before backtracking through the hallways to Jin Guangyao’s room. It’s probably more decorous for him to not pawn off a host's duties onto someone else, anyhow. And, he has to grudgingly admit, Jin Guangyao is Xichen’s other partner and A-Fu’s other father. And he already knows how to care for such episodes from when he was still Meng Yao, still his vice-general. 

His jaw clenches at the memory, grinding his teeth, but he gathers what he needs all the same.

Jin Guangyao stirs groggily at the sound of the door, but he doesn’t open his eyes. “Er-ge...I’m….” his voice his small and hoarse and for all that Nie Mingjue does not like him, is annoyed by his inability to take care of himself, and wants to not pity him, he does have to admit--he sounds absolutely wretched. 

He remembers a time when Jin Guangyao had curled into the corner of Nie Mingjue’s bed, years ago, crying silently with the pillow over his head as the Clan Leader hovered anxiously, not knowing what would help and what would hurt. Nie Mingjue grimaces and pushes it away. 

At least he knows, now.

“It’s me.” He is sure to pitch his voice low and quiet. “Xichen left.”

Jin Guangyao gives a weak start, his eyes blinking open and then squeezing back shut in obvious pain, his mouth pressing thin. Gods, he’s pale, from his hairline to his lips. Nie Mingjue had forgotten exactly how pitiful he could look when he was sick. At least this was one of the only times he can be sure he is seeing the truth from the man--no one as obsessed with control and saving face as him would ever show such obvious weakness to someone like him.

“Oh. Da-ge...you needn’t…”

Nie Mingjue rolls his eyes because he cannot scoff and quietly makes his way to the bedside, setting down his armful of supplies on the nearby table. “Hush. Talking makes it worse.”

Jin Guangyao makes a vague, thin sound that might have been agreement and falls silent, eyes slitting open again to watch him arrange things briskly, blinking slowly. This close, his breathing is wet and shallow, his pale lips dry and Nie Mingjue fights the urge to strangle him. He wants to reprimand him, to demand what he thinks ignoring illness would do but this, if he thinks that A-Fu would enjoy his father becoming seriously ill because he wanted to stay up and play pretend with him, whether he thinks at all about how this sort of thing affected the people close to him, but he bites his tongue and thrusts out a cup. “Drink. It’s water.”

Watching him slowly attempt to struggle upright snaps the last little bit of patience and he leans in and, keeping his touch light, carefully sits him up and leans him against Nie Mingjue’s side. He is searingly hot through the single layer of underrobe he wears and he squeezes his eyes shut. “Da-ge….” grinds out of him, worryingly slurred and Nie Mingjue holds the cup to his lips. 

“Drink,” he commands quietly, again. 

Jin Guangyao does. It is quiet and dark and close and Nie Mingjue is focusing on the far wall so he can pretend that Jin Guangyao isn’t tucked against his side, his heartbeat thrumming through his back like one of Huaisang’s birds against his bicep. Until he begins to cough. Nie Mingjue knows it’s bad the moment it begins. The coughs are like what A-Fu had, but worse, deep and wracking and, from the way the hand that’s not covering his mouth goes up to clutch his head, make the pain all that much more splitting. Nie Mingjue doesn’t move, doesn’t hold him--though he almost feels like he should from the way it feels like he’s shaking apart beside him. He knows that every touch is magnified, every sensation translated to discomfort at best, pain at worst. 

It ends with Jin Guangyao stifling gagging, fingers digging into the bed covers, doubled over, before they peter out on panting breaths that huff out on an involuntary half-whine. Nie Mingjue takes in a breath to speak and Jin Guangyao winces at just that--so he doesn’t. He merely carefully sets the cup down and taps his fingers against the pillow. Slowly, Jin Guangyao leans back until he’s sunk back into it, hair spread like inky, tangled clouds across it, his even paler face now shining with sweat--and tears. 

Without speaking, Nie Mingjue carefully lays one of the soft cloths over his eyes then wets another in the cool water from the pitcher, slowly wiping down his face and neck. His lips are pursed the entire time and his intent is to glare down at the idiot in his guest bed to convey just how avoidable this whole thing was, but he feels that the effect is a little muted by just how like a corpse he looks, lying there, pale and utterly still. It’s unnerving. If it wasn’t for the fast, labored breaths and his unnaturally hot skin, he would be indistinguishable from one who was freshly dead. 

Then, said-idiot swallows and asks in a ragged whisper, “Fufu...left?”

Nie Mingjue nods, murmurs, “A while ago. Xichen worried he would be too loud for you.”

The hand that lies on his chest curled, as if it wants to tighten into a fist but hasn’t the energy and he whispers, “Ah.”

“This was enormously fucking stupid of you,” Nie Mingjue points out grumpily, unable to help himself.

Jin Guangyao is silent for long enough as Nie Mingjue loosens his robe enough to wipe down his whole chest, carefully tugs his damp hair free from behind his neck that he thinks he has fallen asleep, but as he slips the cloth back into the bucket and rises to leave, Jin Guangyao twitches. “Thank….”

“Hush. Drink more water when you wake up.”

[kilyra]

You Wanted More

Eric Northman (True Blood) One-Shot

A/N:  Well, absolutely no one directly requested this, but I’m carrying on with the Eric Northman arc because...I wanna - so this is following “You Will”, “You Did, Sweetheart”, “You a Fangbanger, now?”, and “You Shouldn’t Have Come”

Training with Jason Stackhouse leaves you pretty banged up, a fact Eric is not happy about when he shows up to find you on heavy drugs for the pain.

Warnings:  Racy bits kinda, bit of gore I guess, alluding to events in the show. But not out and out spoilers. (I myself am only on S3 or 4, so this is an early Eric style fic…also, please don’t send me any spoilers).

If you want to be on my tag lists, (all or just a character) just let me know! (Credit for this amazing gif goes to @bonniebird​​. Thank you SO much!)

The pain meds were strong. Knowing Jason got them from Lafayette, you didn't ask many questions so all you really had were the basics – don't drive and don't mix with alcohol. That, and they were guaranteed to let you breathe a little easier without the throbbing and sometimes stabbing pain shooting down your side.

It wasn't until after taking a couple and immediately being hit with a wall of unstoppable drowsiness that you realized just how strong they were. But at least you weren't in pain. You may not be forced to see a doctor after all.

Focusing was impossible, but you didn't mind staring blankly at the TV and zoning out. It was better than flinching every time you moved. As you sank into the couch, letting the waves of relaxation take over, you eventually became aware that something seemed different. A breeze maybe? Did something shift? Not that it really mattered but...

Slowly, your eyes drifted to the couch beside you and you were vaguely aware there was a set of legs. Which was odd. There wasn't usually legs beside you. With effort, you followed the legs up to see Eric Northman perched on the back of your couch, passively staring down at you.

Apparently, the pills were not only strong, but they had completely knocked you out.

“Huh, well I didn't expect that.” Smiling to yourself, you let out a soft chuckle.

Eric's eyebrows creased at your greeting before swiftly falling back into place. His eyes swept over you like he was trying to figure out what he missed, but his features stayed neutral. “Yes, well, I thought it was time to have a talk about what happened at Fangtasia.”

His velvety voice was flat and unimpressed, but your heart still fluttered as it reached your ears. Although some of your dreams have started with conversations, it was a little surprising that he wanted to talk. “Is that what you thought?”

Pulling his gaze away, he focused on his dark pants, absently picking at something that you couldn't see. To be fair, focusing on something as small as a bit of fluff was next to impossible since everything seemed to have blurred edges anyhow.

“Pam did, actually. And I got tired of arguing with her about it.”

There was something oddly sensual about how he pinched at the loose thread, his nimble fingers making short work of what irritated him. Lightly biting your lip, you suddenly wanted those fingers on your skin, skilfully giving your body the attention he was wasting on fabric.

And why not? It was your dream after all.

Lightly humming a reply, you shifted your weight so you were facing the pale vampire. Taking your time, you let your gaze wander over his body. His shirt clung to him so perfectly that you could see his muscular physique almost as clearly as if he were naked. Almost.

As your eyes floated up to his, you saw he was carefully staring at you with a sidelong glance as though he didn't want to bring too much attention to the fact he was watching you. But his ice-cold eyes were so piercing, it was impossible to not be drawn in. Were they that stunning in real life, or was your mind adding that?

Tilting his head, he studied you more obviously and pulled you from your stupor. Offering a lazy smile, you shrugged playfully. “And why would Pam insist on you talking to me, hmm?”

Sighing, he smoothed his hand over the spot he had been picking at and straightened. He broke your eye contact to stare across the room before he spoke. “According to her, ever since you defended me to your roommate I-”

You hadn't expected him to actually continue talking. Normally, in your dreams, he would have responded by sliding off the back of the couch, smoothly claiming your mouth with his as he wrapped his arms around you in an unyielding embrace. Warmth was already spreading through you at the mere thought of him holding you possessively and pressing himself against you as he eased you back onto the cushions...

But instead, he was talking. Still.

Reaching over, you set your hand on his knee and, to your surprise, his words sputtered to a stop.

Clearing his throat, he tried to continue even though you already missed half of what he said. “...And while I don't exactly agree, she mi-”

Running your tongue over your lip, you circled your fingers over the top of his leg and stared up at him through your eyelashes. You couldn't help your smirk when his words suddenly died out again and his eyes darted to your hand.

The corner of his mouth tugged downward in a faint frown as his eyebrows quickly dipped low before settling back into his usual blank expression. “What...are you doing?”

Your dreams had never had so much lead-up before and you had to admit, it was a little fun to toy with him. Using him for support, you pulled yourself forward, getting your legs under you. Easing yourself closer, you were only mildly surprised when his knees opened wider with very little coaxing. Watching you with curious eyes, he gave in to your touch without resistance. You doubted the real Eric would ever let you direct him so easily, allowing you to sit up on your knees between his legs.

Although to be fair, you'd never do anything like that with the real Eric anyhow...

“I'm listening, is what I'm doing. To what I'm sure will be a lecture that I can't seem to escape even in my dreams," you finally replied with an air of smugness as you sidestepped his question.

“A lecture? In your...dreams?” His words were only slightly hesitant as he forced his stare up from your hands to meet your eyes. You thought you saw a heavy swallow, but he gave no other indication of being caught off-guard.

As you spoke, you started massaging your fingers along his thigh, steadily moving them higher. Your fingertips dug into the fabric of his pants and you distantly wondered if he even really felt the pressure. “You know, about how I can't go to Fangtasia like I did. How it's not safe for me there.”

His eyes dropped to your hands one last time before slowly dragging up your body and finally, the ice in his eyes seemed to melt. The slight change in his gaze sent a spark through your chest and down your limbs as you gripped his leg tighter.

A smile slowly etched its way onto his lips as his moment of confusion seemed to pass. When he spoke, there was an undeniable purr to his tone. “Mmm, well I suppose part of that is true. You can't go there, not like you did.”

“Not like I did? And how should I be going there?” Your breath hitched as he seemed to finally get on the same page as you. Letting your wandering hands settle on his hips, your heart jumped as his fingers traced their way along your arms. If this was like any dream before, it would only be seconds until he stopped with the pretenses and pulled you in close. Your whole body hummed in anticipation.

Instead, his hands came to rest on the sides of your shoulders as his eyes narrowed slightly. Leaning forward, his face was inches from yours as his lips curled back in a wicked grin. With a flick of his wrist, his hand shot up from your shoulder to grip your hair, holding you in place. “As mine.”

A sharp gasp ripped from your throat as a cold rush raced through you. But it only added to the flame in your core. Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you ran your hands up, under his shirt and let your nails graze his skin as you pulled yourself closer.

Quietly, a dull pain that started swimming in from the edges of your mind protested the movement. But you were far too distracted.

With a growl, he brought his face almost close enough to kiss but paused, his eyes scanning your face as though he were looking for answers. Your hand flexed from the torture of denial, digging your nails into his skin. His grip on your hair tightened and you found yourself pressing your thighs together, trying not to squirm under his grasp. Your eyelids fluttered closed as you nodded. “Yes..y-yours.”

His growl grew deeper as he closed the gap, his lips hungrily seeking you. Within seconds, his tongue dominated yours, not that you put up a fight, your lips willingly parted for him. Moaning into his mouth, you easily gave up any false idea of control, letting yourself fall into the haze of his passionate kiss as he held you in place. Under his shirt, your hand ran up his muscled torso, resting against his solid chest. Taking your hint, he pulled away and quickly yanked his shirt over his head, tossing somewhere in the room before finding your lips again.

As your hand traced further up his body, you quickly nestled your fingers in his hair. Your pulse was racing so wildly you were glad you didn't have to try and stand as you kept your balance by tightly clinging to the Adonis in your arms.

Subtly he shifted, dancing his free hand along the small of your back as he tugged your hair, forcefully breaking the kiss. Gasping, you didn't have time to mourn the loss before he dropped his head to the crook of your neck. His teeth grazed your skin as you felt him sucking a dark mark into you. Had you been awake, you would have been terrified that he was about to bite you but...since it was just a dream...the thought was shamefully exciting. Letting your face nestle against his neck, you relished the idea that, at any second, his teeth could pierce flesh and he would truly claim you as his.

Drawing the moment out, his bites were firm but not enough to break skin, quickly followed by his tongue swirling along your neck. Burrowing your face against him, you quietly moaned, enjoying the cool woodsy scent that seemed to float up around you.

As he tucked you against him, gently devouring your neck, his hand trailed down your body seeking the bare skin of your leg. A deep throbbing turned into an ache and you desperately wanted your legs wrapped around his waist, letting you grind against him for a breath of relief. Like in so many dreams before.

But as his fingers pressed into your leg, screaming pain shot through you with such force, your stomach lurched and black stars danced across your vision.

Crying out, your body went rigid except for the instinctive flinch of your leg in an attempt to pull away. Dropping your hand, you moved to slap him back but as you wrenched yourself, more agony ripped through your torso, completely stealing your breath.

You suspected before that a rib had slipped out of place, but as you were blinded by white bursts from each breath, you realized it might be broken. And the pain meds were already apparently wearing off with the rush of adrenaline.

It didn't occur to you that dreams weren't ever so painful...

Letting your hair loose, Eric continued to cup your scalp as a deep furrow formed in his forehead.

“I'm fine...it's nothing.” It tumbled out through grit teeth before you could even question why you lied.

The muscles along his cheek popped as his jaw clenched. His nose flared slightly, the only warning you had before his hands clenched around the back of your head, holding you in place again. Hissing, you tried to slip out of his grasp, but it only brought more pain as he drew his hand along your leg, pulling up the bottom of your shorts.

It seemed impossible, but his body tensed even more as he exposed the large, deep bruise that covered most of your upper thigh. Pulling them up until they drew tight, it was obvious the bruise went higher than he could see with the shorts still on. As you grimaced from the pressure, he let the fabric slip from his fingers before grasping the edge of your top.

He was determined to see just how high it went.

As he lifted the back of your shirt with surprising gentleness, you focused on your shallow breathing. The last time you looked in the mirror, you saw the bruises that covered most of your side were almost black and accompanied by a long set of deep scrapes starting near your spine and fanning out to the side of your ribcage. And you doubted it looked any better now.

Straightening, he looked deep in your eyes, not masking the quiet fury that laid deep in his stare. “Who did this?”

“No one,” you said quietly, trying not to shrink away.

“Do not make me glamour you.” His stony expression hadn't changed, but his voice dropped dangerously low.

Swallowing heavily, you fought to keep from snapping your eyes shut. Forcing a hard exhale through your nose, you pushed out each word until it got easier. “No one, alright? Jason Stackhouse was there, but I just fell off an obstacle course and hit pretty much every piece of equipment on the way down.”

For a moment, his eyes silently studied your face as though he were trying to decide if you were lying. Finally, his eyebrow flicked upwards in faint quirk. “And what were you two doing on an obstacle course to begin with?”

Immediately, your pulse spiked and you felt heat rush to your cheeks. You didn't owe him an explanation, but you did throw Jason's name out there and that suddenly felt like a bad move. But it had to be better than what you might say if you were glamoured...right?

“You were right, you know...at Fangtasia? There are things I can do to protect myself and I had heard a bit about Jason's time in Dallas so-”

Eric's sudden scoff cut you off cold. When he spoke, there was a new hardness in his tone and you knew you crossed some invisible line. “Right. And those? Did those come from him too?”

Both his eyebrows lifted, gesturing past you and without looking back, you knew he was talking about the painkillers sitting out on the coffee table. Desperately trying to keep your breathing calm as you looked up at him, you shrugged. You didn't want to give him another name. “I don't...know where he got them.”

“I think we both know it's pretty obvious, sweetheart. But what matters is, you should have come to me with this.” He spoke with a dismissive tone as he freed his grip on you.

His mood swing threw your rush of adrenaline into confusion. The bewilderment that dropped over you was so thick, and likely still drug-ladened, that you didn’t even try to move away from him even though he had set his hand down on his knee. There was simply no desire to put space between you and being tucked between his knees somehow made you feel protected. Even if he did scare you.

“I...I should...come to you for pain meds...or...?”

There was no hint of humour on his face as he continued. "Both. I can better teach you to defend yourself against my kind, more so than Stackhouse ever could. But especially for your injuries. I can't have you walking around like this, it's embarrassing.”

“...Embarrassing?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you echoed him, trying to piece together what he was talking about.

“Yes. Since I had to publicly declare you as mine, there is a certain standard to uphold. And having my human limping around, half-broken is simply unacceptable.” His silky voice contrasted the insulting words as he brought his wrist up to his lips.

Your stomach flipped as he snarled, giving you the perfect view as his fangs dropped. Without hesitation, he bit into his own flesh and you were too stunned to back away. But you should have.

Eric's lips were glittering red as he pulled back and ran his tongue over them. Holding his wrist out to you, his speech was slightly different as he spoke through his fangs. “Drink.”

Horrified, you followed his gaze down to his arm and the blood slowly bubbling from his punctures. Finally flinching back, you felt the dull pain of your side roar to life as your heart thudded against your chest.

Before you could back off the couch, his arms were a blur as he grabbed your hair and forced your head to turn. Your repeated chorus of no, meant nothing as his arm wrapped around you and forced you to spin on your knees until you were facing away from him. Soon, you were trapped between his chest and his wrist that he pressed to your mouth.

Keeping your lips tightly closed, you felt them grow slick with his blood. Jerking away, your head met his collarbone and you had nowhere left to go as his arm pressed against you with more pressure. Whimpering a pitiful cry, your hands dug into his thighs as you tried to push yourself away. But all you did was brace your back against his chest. It was useless. He had you clamped against him, utterly immobilized.

“I'm helping you, don't waste it.” His voice carried the weariness of an exhausted parent dealing with a petulant child. As he sighed, he twisted his wrist enough to force an opening between your bruised lips.

As the copper taste flooded your mouth, your gut clenched and trying to take a breath through your nose didn't help.

You were going to vomit.

But just as the warm blood trickled down the back of your throat, something changed. On a primal level, your disgust turned to need. Squeezing Eric's thighs to brace yourself, you tried to process what was happening, but everything was moving too fast. You needed his blood like you needed air and your body greedily gulped it back. On its own, one hand lifted from his knee to clasp around his wrist as if you could hold him there.

“Good girl,” Eric cooed in your ear as he brushed your hair back from your face. A shiver ran down your spine at his praise and you found yourself writhing, trying to grind against him even though you were in too awkward of a position to be successful.

Staring out into the room, you noticed everything grow sharper as your heartbeat steadied. The fog of the painkillers dissipated as a new energy vibrated its way through your chest and yet the pain didn't return. There was a faint hint of discomfort remaining, but you could feel it recede like the tide. It was a renewal like you had never experienced. And you wanted more.

Gently resting his hand on your forehead, he kept you against his chest as he pulled his wrist away. Another whine escaped your throat and was met with a soft chuckle. “No, now trust me, that's enough.”

Twisting around to face him, you frowned, ready to protest more. Before you could, he silenced you with a fleeting smile before he wiped his fingertip along your chin. Holding up his hand, you saw the wasted blood and, without hesitation, you leaned forward and took his fingers in your mouth. His lips parted slightly as he watched you suck and eagerly sweep your tongue over his skin. Keeping your eyes glued to his, you suddenly didn't care what horror had just taken place...you just wanted to pick up where you had left off. You wanted him.

And then your phone rang.

As the loud ringtone cut through the moment, your floating sensation came crashing down around you. What was going on? What had Eric done to you?

Blinking, you retreated, leaving his clean fingers outstretched for a moment until he gripped the back of the couch. A soft frown touched his lips as his eyes darted to the screen phone.

“It seems Stackhouse at least has a conscious about the damage he's done,” Eric said flatly.

Everything was clear. Too clear. The whole evening flashed before you and a growing realization became too loud to ignore. “This...this isn't a dream, is it?”

His eyebrows faintly arched before his face fell. It was slight, but the muscles twitched around the corners of his mouth and his eyes grew dull as they looked past you to settle on the pill bottle. "A...dream. Right. It seems that Lafayette broke out the good stuff."

Pulling your hands to your chest, you didn't stop him as he swung a leg off the back of the couch. As he stood with ease, you were reminded again of just how big he was as he towered over you, but somehow it didn't scare you this time. Blinking rapidly and trying to ignore the sense of loss of that descended as he moved away, you failed to stop your eyes from trailing over his still-bare chest. His sculpted muscles were pale perfection and you couldn't help your stare as he leaned down and smoothly swiped his shirt from the floor.

Once he tugged it down over his head, he nodded towards the phone on the coffee table. “You'd better answer.  You wouldn't want to keep your hero waiting.”

Although he said it lightly, as though he were cracking a joke, your stomach knotted. You knew if you didn't answer, Jason would turn up at the door and you weren't done trying to sort out what just happened. Pinching your lips together in a tight line as another shrill ring broke the silence, you finally glanced down at the phone.

And by the time you looked back up, Eric was gone.

Taglist:  @foreverfaeries​  @flower-two​  @getlostinyourparadise​   @selfishkiddo​  @angelicshinigami​  @parkersbabey​​ @thatchampagnebitch​ @mysteryoflovve​  @edweirdoddlepot  @divadinag​  @crazy-fandom-girl1​  @givemeabite​ @breanime​​ @shondlenoodle​ @hermionesalvatore84​   @dyingformyships​    @dreamers-wonderland​ @adriellej​  @sherrybaby14​

[junova]

Wishful Thinking [P.P] [S.R.]

Summary: AU!Peter just can't seem to let the past go and you with it. 

Pairing: AU!Peter Parker x Reader, AU!Steve Rogers x Reader im really a whore for au scenarios for reference peter is early 20s and reader as well (its just how imagined it tho)

Word Count: 3.5K+ 

A/N: Hey guys! It has been a hot ass minute since I have posted anything I have written and I’m little nervous if I’m being honest. Any feedback is welcome and appreciated! If you wanna give this post a little love, you would own my fucking heart. I really hope you enjoy reading this piece as much as I enjoyed writing it. It’s really close to my heart, as always pushing my emotional trauma into fictional characters! Yay! Anyhow, happy reading! 

“Don’t.” The moment those words left her mouth, he felt attacked. Who was she to tell him to not go for it? He hadn’t seen her in years and of all the places he could possibly run in to her, it was the place they met. The building which their love used to stand on and she had the audacity to say “don’t”. 

“Excuse me?” Hopefully, if he played dumb enough she wouldn’t know what he was planning. She wouldn’t be suspicious, but the way her eyebrow was arched told him differently. He definitely was not going to get away with this, easily. “Look at her. She’s happy.” 

“But do you know that for certainty? How do you know she’s getting what she deserves?” Wanda laughed. The audacity Peter had sometimes over you. Disgustingly, claiming you as if he owned you. “Because she’s no longer with you. The universe was doing her a favor.” He frowned. He wasn’t that bad of a boyfriend. Was he? 

“I loved her.” 

“Not nearly as much as you love yourself. Everyone in this room knows that. You showed everyone exactly who you were really are. After everything you put her through, do you really think it’s best to bring up the past? Just leave it alone.” 

Wanda words pierced through him roughly, but he had always been stubborn. Yes, he lied, but only because he was trying to protect you. He had a itching feeling if you knew the truth, you would have never been with him in the first place. In the moment, he had needed you terribly and even know with you a world away and wrapped in another man, he still needed you. For Peter, it went past a want. 

“But I-“ He countered back, before he was interrupted by the one person he had been trying to avoid. 

“Parker! You finally decided to show your face, huh?” Michelle hollered at her friend, but all he could focus on was who stood beside her. There she was. Less than five feet away from him, looking like a complete goddess. Obviously, she hadn’t changed one bit. Still appearing as beautiful as the last time he saw her, only this time they were all gathered for celebration. Instead of the unfortunate circumstances they had met under last time. 

Peter hated to admit, but she looked much happier. Her aura was practically glowing and he hated it. Selfishly, he hated that you looked happy because he was wrecked. Even if he had been the one to break your trust and heart in on crushing punch, it still pained him. Constantly, you were on his mind. Replaying the last conversation he had with over and over like a broken record. Maybe if he had chosen different words to break it down, you would have been able to forgive him. Maybe if he had actually told you, instead of you finding out on your own, your relationship towards him wold have been salvageable. 

Looking at you now, Peter began to feel even more of a goddamn idiot. Even now more than ever, he felt the insecurities of you being out of his league. He always knew it was a little too good to be true. That you, goddess in the flesh, chose Peter Parker to be your boyfriend. Out of every guy that came your way, you chose to be with someone like him. He swore you were the most beautiful person he had ever met in his life. The moment he looked into your eyes, he knew he was fucked. The purity of which they held made Peter forget about every little horrible event which happened in his miserable life. Wanting nothing more than to focus on you and he did for a while. He had the privilege to be the man on your arm. 

Well, until now when Peter realized there was another heavy arm wrapped around her waist. One which certainly didn’t belong to him. Had she already moved on? So, quickly might he add. There were parts of him that didn’t blame you. He didn’t blame you for moving on so quickly to another, even if it was the man he had always been insecure of. God, how he wanted to say something to you when he found out. He wanted to be offensive about and blame you for everything. Even went as far getting hammered one night, mumbling to Wanda how you had broken his heart by finally getting with Steve. You had been the one to ruin the magical bond between the both of you. Nearly pressing your contact in his phone, before Wanda confiscated it from him. 

It was the first time it dawned on him that he wasn’t worthy of you. Not anymore. 

“Yeah, I did. Not feeling so sure about it now.” His eyes directed towards yours, which caused you to divert your own towards the floor. Peter giving you his full attention, even if everything inside of you was hoping he would look in any direction but your own. God, why couldn’t you just look at him like you used to. 

“Aww, lighten up Pete. It’s only going to get worse by the second.” The distaste in Michelle’s tone was rightfully placed. She was sticking up for you. Even when you had always been too polite to say anything negative towards Peter, she wasn’t that nice. It’s not like he didn’t deserve it. 

It did in fact get worse by the second. 

Obviously, you were uncomfortable being here. The body language you presented showed it all. Your body was turned towards the man holding onto you, your own body leaning against his. Peter noticed the grip you had on Steve like he was the anchor centering you. The one thing bringing you back down from your anxiety which liked to hold you above ground. 

This exact stance, is the one who you took with him many times. You shifted your body from side to side because you were anxious, scared even. You did it when you were uncomfortable and were contemplating one what to do next. Then, there was the head on his chest. Often, you had told Peter it was comforting. Instead of focusing on your heartbeat which only seemed to increase rapidly during a heightened situation, you liked to listen to something steady. Something that could bring you out of the distress you felt yourself taking a part of.  But the hand holding, that was new. 

Whenever you were having a panic attack, you always claimed you couldn’t be touched. But here you were having one, and Steve was touching you. Maybe you had lied to Peter, too. Maybe you liked to have your hand held when panic speed throughout your mind. Maybe it was just Peter’s hand you didn’t want to hold. 

“Michelle.” Wanda warned, but frankly she didn’t care. If anyone should feel like the bad guy, it wasn’t her but Peter. 

Peter fucking Parker. 

“Are you kidding me? We’re all just gonna act like nothing happened? Like we all haven’t seen each other in months because of this imbecile.” Peter flinched, leave it to Michelle to expose the elephant in the room and shoot it dead on the living room floor. 

“MJ, just leave it. Okay?” You finally spoke up. It was obvious you were uncomfortable. Hell, everyone had to be. You didn’t want to bring conflict within the group, even though Michelle had no problem with it. 

“He doesn’t deserve to be let off the hook just because we’re all friends.” Michelle was hell bent on defending you, but you just thought the past was best left behind. You certainly didn’t want to rehash the heartache you’ve been trying to move on from. 

“Clearly, I’m not, Michelle. Okay? Tonight isn’t even about me. Can we just focus on Natasha and Bucky? Please.” She finally caved, giving him one last glare before storming away. 

“Hey, I’m gonna go talk to Bucky. I’ll be right back. Promise.” Steve whispered in your ear, before kissing your temple. “Will you be okay?” He gave your hand which was intertwined with his own a small squeeze, as if to let you know he was speaking. You gave him a small nod, before giving him a light peck, letting him know you were going to fine.  Strutted off in the opposite direction, Wanda took that as her opportunity to stay. She sure as hell wasn’t going to let Peter do something unbelievably stupid with your boyfriend mingling in the same room. 

Peter was about to speak before you beat him to the punch. 

“Well, huh. That was….interesting.” Wanda breaking the unbearable silence between you and Peter. Huh, she expected him to say something. Guess he wasn’t as confident as he appeared. 

“Michelle’s sure on one tonight.” 

“More like on her second bottle of red wine for the night. Definitely, will not remember anything she says or does tonight.” Trying to forget Peter was sitting right there you continued to talk to Wanda. It had been months since you’d seen her and you really missed her. 

She was just asking you about Steve, when her husband called her, politely dismissing herself for just a moment. Cursing Vis for calling her, how was she supposed to cockblock the biggest asshole there was from across the room? 

Minutes passed until Peter found the courage to speak anything in her presence. “You look nice.” God, he really wanted to beat himself up. How could those be the first words he spoke to you after everything had happened? 

“Peter, really?” You questioned. Even now, he liked to play the dumbass. The oblivious boy who had done nothing wrong and that only made you want to cry in anger. But you had indulged yourself in those feeling for far too long. If he wanted to play, you were out for the win. Even if your entire body was shaking in fear, you wouldn’t let him know that. 

“What? You do look nice.” Endearingly enough, his chocolate brown swirls peered out with an innocence he no longer held. How could it after he had hurt the one who he promised to love? “I don’t know. I just figured you might wanna apologize first, before handing me a compliment like we’re friends.” Peter’s body shifted, adjusting the button on his dress shirt he was sporting. Now suddenly feeling suffocated by it. Pondering, if it had always been buttoned up to the collar or if he was just starting to feel it now. 

“We are friends. Before everything, we were friends.” You leaned closer, and suddenly he had forgotten how to breathe. “We were friends, Peter. Then we dated, then we broke up.” 

“And now, friends.” Peter weakly argued. Such a child, if only he would give up and learn his lesson. “Peter that’s not exactly how the timeline goes. You have to apologize. Maybe? Just a fucking thought.” He could hear the disappointment drip in your voice, scolding him like a child who touched a lit stove top. He should apologized. Scratch that. He should have already apologized, but Peter was stubborn. Something you knew a little too well. 

“For what? The feelings I felt were obviously justified, you’re with Steve.” There it was. The one thing you felt guilty for. Steve. Your precious Steve Rogers. The perfect partner which stayed hidden, right under your nose until he made himself known. It was quite recent, but it didn’t matter if you told Peter that. It wouldn’t matter that Steve waited until you were ready. It wouldn’t matter to him that Steve had waited until you stopped crying over Peter every night for three months straight. Not pouncing on you at your most vulnerable, but waiting for you until you stood on your own two feet. All of it didn’t matter to Peter. In his mind, the only thing he knew saw was you were with Steve and not him. Furiously enough, it made his blood boil. Even if he had dug his own grave, you just had to be with him. Out of anyone you could have picked, it was the man he felt inferior to. 

“Leave Steve out of this. He is none of your business. My relationship with him is none of your concern. The moment you lied to me about her, we were dead, Peter. You used me from the very get go. You didn’t want me, Peter. You never did. I was just a rebound for you.” Then it started, always with the hands. Fingers hidden under the bar, began to shake. You were scared of this conversation. Confrontation wasn’t something that came easy to you and Peter being the most stubborn man in the world, didn’t make it any easier for you. 

“Of course, I did. I only wanted you.” And the lying started. Again. 

“You wanted me for your own selfish reasons! I wanted a life with you, a future with you. I was a complete idiot and put my trust in you. Where did it get me Peter? It left me with everything blowing right up in my fucking face.” Peter’s face paled. Never had he seen you this angry, entirely filled with rage and it was all because of him. Every negative feeling you had ever felt for him was evidently suppressed, and now your emotions were resurfacing. You didn’t even care if you were making a scene. You needed to say what had been itching at you for months. 

“I-I-I d-do-n’t. What?” Quickly, Peter became a blubbering mess. He was sitting there not knowing what to say, when all you wanted was an apology. In fact, the only thing you wanted from him. You just wanted him to realize how selfish he had been, but he simply couldn’t meet the expectations set for him. 

“You still don’t get it. Do you?” His eye twitching and his hands shaking, entangled with his own revelation. Peter thought he was good boyfriend. He showed up when it mattered. Yeah, the ending of the relationship had been a little rough around the edges, but he though he was just protecting you. He would have never been good enough for you, so he settled for someone who was. At the time, he thought he was making the right desicison. 

He really was a complete dumbass. As he was here in front of you, he realized he had really fucked up. I mean, he knew he already had but actually hearing you say you wanted a future with him messed with his head. It mad had something to do with you never actually uttering those words to him in the entirety of relationship, but only when the t’s were crossed the i’s were dotted. It just seemed terribly cruel when you were so clearly out of reach for him to grip onto. 

“Pete, I loved you and I didn’t want anyone else other than you. Then, you made me your second choice. How do you think that felt? One day were solid, and then the next you were gone. You didn’t even give me a choice because you had already made one. You didn’t talk to me. You certainly didn’t trust me with your feelings and you no regard for my own. You ruined us, Pete.” Just like that the tears began to fall and you wanted to get the hell out of here. But you had to get through this conversation, not for Peter but for you. 

There went his heart, but it wasn’t for the tears cascading down your cheek, but for what you had called him. You called him Pete. He only let you call him that, always claiming he hated and much rather his full name. Ever since he was little, he was really never fond of nicknames. Of course, until he heard you say it. Then, he fell in love with the name Pete which was sung to the tune of your voice. Deeply, did he wish you were saying it different circumstances. He dreamed of it even, but this was reality. Not his fantasy where you would come back running into his open arms. 

This was it. If he ever wanted to be friends with you again, he had to make his peace with what he had done. Peter Parker was finally giving in. “I never felt good enough for you. After college, when Gwen and I had split up, I was miserable. I didn’t what I was doing with my life. Until I met you and this whole other side of me was unleashed. Every terrible feeling I had ever felt vanished whenever I was with you. You became this light in my life, quite literally guiding me through without even realizing it. Maybe I put you on a pedestal and that’s probably why I thought I can never give you what you needed, but I was scared. Okay? I was scared you would do the same thing Gwen did to me.” You laughed bitterly, the irony of becoming what he was so afraid of you. 

“You could have just talked to me. I always there for you, always. I never left until you made me. You could have just communicated what you were feeling and I would have listened.” 

“I wasn’t ready. How was I supposed to tell you? I was paralyzed with fear as you can tell.” You sighed, as he was staring at you with those honey eyes. The nagging, forgiving side of you just wanted to bring him back in. To comfort him until all of his pain vanished, but the stronger part how he left you for Gwen consumed you. 

“Pete, I know now, but can you honestly tell me that were completely over Gwen. If you went back to her, don’t you think there were still some unresolved feelings. Love or not, you still had feelings for her. It’s okay, I just, I’m really tired of everything going on between us. How it’s effecting our friends. Michelle can barely stand to be around you and that’s partly my fault. I probably told her too much and now she thinks differently of you. The mess should have stayed between us. I just want to clean it up, Peter. I want this all to be over with. I need us to be done. Clean slate. For you. For me. For Steve. For our friends. A new beginning where our baggage stays in the past.” 

Even when you were angry, you were still kind. You truly had the purest of intentions, even after he drug your heart through the mud, you held yourself with grace and mercy. None of which he knew how you held such a tight grip on. 

Suddenly it the revelation dawned on Peter, you were forgiving him. 

“I-I don’t know what to say.” Peter sighed, any plans he had to win you back had fled and the only thing he felt now was guilt. Even though he was one hundred percent in the wrong, you were the one to wave the red flag in surrender. Always being the bigger person when he was incapable of it. Really, when he didn’t have the will for it, but you did. For the both of you, no matter how much it hurt. 

Even if you weren’t getting the answers you had originally came for.  

_______________

“How’d it go?” Steve’s arms found your waist, pulling you close to his chest. “Good, for the most part. I think we’ll finally be on speaking terms now. More accurately, I will finally speak with him.” Giving you a small peck to your shoulder, before turning you around so you were facing him. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Hmm.” You looked in his deep, ocean eyes. The love he poured into you, truly unmatched to anything you had ever felt. “Do you still love him?” 

“Like in love? Or just love? Two very different things, peach.” 

“Just, um, like in love?” His voice going up an octave higher, slightly afraid of the answer you would give him. If Steve could count on one thing, it was your honesty. Time and time again, you had showed him it was what you valued most. Considering your past, he understood why. 

“I was in love with my boyfriend, Peter Parker. The man who I thought loved me through and through. I pictured a life with him, and future with him. God, he met my parents even and they loved him to absolute death. My dad told me after we broke up, he even asked for his blessing. That he wasn’t ready, but some day he would be. Of course, the golden boy image Peter sold to them was more than believable so he gave it to him. Shit, like, how could he you know? Obviously, he was clearly still so in love with Gwen since he left me for her. I just wish I would have known about her, but he never alluded to anything about her and I never had a reason to doubt him. He was perfect with me. Right until it wasn’t. 

“So, no. I don’t. My love for him died the very moment he chose her over me.” You began to cry again, and god did Steve hate seeing you cry. Silently, cursing himself for even bringing it up in the first place, but the insecurity of Peter being your first love crept in. What if you had changed your mind one day? What if you decided one morning all was forgiven and left him? It wasn’t the most unreasonable thought. People can change. What if you would? But little did Steve know that you forgave Peter, but still were very much in love with the blue, eyed man in front of you. 

Immediately, Steve embraced you, holding you in his arms like they could protect you from any harm which came your way. Quite frankly, they very well could. In moments like these, everything else seemed to fade. He could make you forget about all the hurts of the past and center you on the future. 

“I wish I would have manned up and asked you before you met Peter.” Steve whimpered. He really had a want to protect you and it only made you love him more. You wanted to tell him so badly, but it just didn’t feel right. “I don’t. I wasn’t ready for you back then.” You joked half-heartedly. 

“I’m gonna pretend that you didn’t just gut me.” Once you started kissing him, he didn’t really have much to complain about. Sweet and soft, his lips slanted over yours perfectly. The familiar taste of strawberries invading your senses, slightly ecstatic he had finally started using the chapstick you had begged him to start using. You didn’t mind kissing his slight chapped lips, since it was Steve, but smooth was so much better in your opinion. 

“Doll, I’m sorry. I brought it up. I know it isn’t the easiest for you to talk about it. I really should be more mindful of it.” Even when he wasn’t trying, he was an absolute sweetheart. It only caused your heart to soar, more than ever. “No, don’t be. It’s important to me to talk about these things. To work through, them. You know? Evidently, I’ve never really been the greatest communicator, but I want to be. With you, I want to be better because this is the most important relationship in my life. Just you and I, peach.” 

You lowered your hands that were wrapped around his waist, before resting them on his perfectly shaped bum. You certainly didn’t miss the blush which spilled out over Steve’s cheeks, at your new position. “God, I hope no one ever finds out the reason you call me that.” Steve shamefully admitted. 

“Peach, have you seen your ass? It’s not like it’s a secret.” You giggled when he grabbed yours, and honestly you were surprised. He was never this forward, at least not in public. “Trust me when I saw no one is staring at mine, when you have an ass like that.” He gifted you with light peck before dragging you along to the group of your friends. 

But Peter? He watched the entire interaction. His eyes focused on you since you conversation had ended. It was clear you were over him, but he wasn’t over you. Surely, he could change your mind. He had done it once and he would stop at nothing to do it again. 

________________

[sapphiewrites-twst]

Change of plans, I think this is going to last about four chapters. I think went a little overboard with Pomefiore’s part 😅 It’ll be split into two parts because, again, I went too crazy with it.

Since this is Pomefiore’s part, Rook would inevitably appear. I know absolutely 0% French, so please bear with me.

Anyhow, without further ado, enjoy~

Part one Part Two

Will these things happen to me too? When will that be? Who will it be? They say it’s sweet like candy and it feels like flying.

What is love?

AFTER everyone witnessed your red-faced breakdown in Alchemy, you decided it was probably a wise idea to keep a low profile for the rest of the day. Which is exactly why you ended up next to Vil and Rook in Magical History.

Again, it was a joint class today, unfortunately for you. And it wasn’t your idea to sit next to the two. In fact, you deliberately arrived to class early to choose a seat in the far corner of the lecture hall.

However, it seemed as if luck wasn’t on your side today.

“Ah~ If it isn’t the Mademoiselle of Ramshackle.” Oh no. No, no, no. You looked up and confirmed your fears. Rook tipped his hat at you, swiftly settling himself in the seat next to you.

It’s not that you minded his company. In fact, Rook is a great person converse with, as you were both avid talkers. However, in addition to being in Pomefiore, the blonde man is the vice-dorm leader of said dorm, and that attracts attention. Which was exactly the opposite of what you wanted.

“Uh, Rook-senpai—” As expected, before you could finish your sentence, Rook cut in with a dramatic flip of his shoulder-length blonde hair. “Non, non, it’s quite alright for me to sit with you, mademoiselle.”

That’s not what I’m concerned about, you wanted to say, but you swallowed your words back and settled on expressing your exasperation. “I’m not even going to ask about what you just called me.”

“You’re concerned about something, non?” Ignoring your statement, Rook asked seriously, staring intently at your face. Slightly embarrassed from his intense stare, you let your hair form a curtain between you and Rook’s scrutinizing gaze.

A moment of silence passed. Another, then another. The silence was deafening, and you thought for sure you had offended your senpai, who just wanted to make sure you were alright. Just when you’re about to say something, your hair was lifted out of the way. The dramatic vice-dorm leader ran his hand through your hair, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Whatever it may be, feel better soon, dear colombe.” Before you could express your gratitude for Rook’s kind words, he followed up with, “Why (Name), your hair is way too dry to be healthy! Shall I recommend a better hair conditioner brand?”

Poor Epel. Boy am I glad I’m not in Pomefiore.

---

Having talkative Rook next to you is bad enough, so when you spotted the Drama Queen himself entering the room, your heart sank. Tapping your fingers rhythmically on the table (as if it would help you in any way), you chanted under your breath, “Don’t come over, don’t come over, don’t come over,” praying that the dorm leader of Pomefiore leaves you alone

All your efforts were unfortunately ruined by Rook.

“Vil! Over here, next to (Name).”

The second your eyes met with Vil’s, you knew you a goner.

Vil’s amethyst colored eyes narrowed as he strutted over to where you and Rook are seated. Bending over the desk, Vil leaned close to your face, his features showing clear displeasure. “Rook,” he began, crossing his arms. You got the distinct feeling he was looking down his nose at you. “What is the meaning of this?”

Most of your upperclassmen are pretty nice to you, despite many of their flaws. However, you knew the aforementioned upperclassmen personally, while you weren’t exactly buddy-buddy with Vil.

“Why are you seated next to such a,” Vil paused, nose scrunching up in what you imagined was beautiful disgust, “potato?”

Maybe you deemed Vil’s behavior to be petty beyond human comprehension, or maybe you were just a bit fed up with everyone’s “Oh, everything’s fine. It’ll go back to normal soon enough,” attitudes, but nevertheless, you felt a strange obligation to defend potatoes.

“Actually,” you stood up in your seat, hands on your desk, head tilted up definitely, “potato blossoms used to be a big fashion statement among royalties back in the days, so calling me a potato is nothing short of a compliment, which I’m sure was not your intention.”

You could hear Rook’s amused chuckle in the background, but you were hyper focused on Vil’s face. The Pomefiore dorm leader glared at you in pure disbelief. But before he could shoot back a retort, Trein-sensei interrupted, glaring at the both of you.

“Schoenheit, take a seat right now, next to (Last Name).”

Vil gave you a last glare, but still moved to take the seat on your other side, albeit scooting it as far away from you as possible. You glared right back, but moved even closer to the ombre-haired third year just to spite him.

The glaring went on for a little more until it was time for group studies. You stood up as soon as Trein-sensei gave the signal, looking around for more approachable people to work with.

Which immediately failed when Rook pulled you back into your seat by the hem of your blazer. “(Name)~ Don’t be like that.”

You shot the eccentric third-year a flat look. “I have to find a partner.” Rook grinned broadly, slinging an arm around your shoulders, “Ah, but are we not already partners?”

You weren’t particularly against the idea of being Rook’s partner, it’s just that you wanted to be as far away from Vil as possible. “Well, actually, uh—” But then again, you didn’t want to hurt your upperclassman’s feelings.

“We need another person, don’t we?” You managed to mutter, hoping the green-eyed third-year would get the message and leave you be. However, Rook seemed adamant to keep you as his partner. “No matter, we can invite Vil along. Now doesn’t that sound brilliant!”

Maybe for you, you thought to yourself bitterly. It seemed as if you were out of options. Vil can’t be that bad, can he?

Wrong. You were very wrong.

“You’re doing it all wrong.” Vil huffed, eyeing your answer. “Oh, come on now, Vil. It’s not that bad, mademoiselle, although some information doesn’t sound very authentic.” Rook dismissed Vil’s comment cheerfully, ignoring your face of pure annoyance.

You glanced at the clock on the far side of the lecture hall, squinting to see the time, just for a certain someone’s stupid mane of hair to block your view.

The continuous pattern of Vil nit-picking at your answers and Rook frivolously lessening the impact of the violet-eyed third-year’s snarky remarks has been going on ever since the start of the project.

It was driving you nuts, yet you couldn’t voice your utter distaste for Vil in fear of getting reprimanded by Trein-sensei, who you swore was keeping an eye on your group in particular.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Vil’s annoying voice. “Are you even listening?” He snapped, jabbing a finger at the textbook. “I already told you three times to read this paragraph for us, are you deaf?”

Before you could snap back, you heard the last of the Pomefiore dorm leader’s words, which obviously weren’t meant for you to hear, as he whispered it under his breath. “No wonder Epel decided to focus on his project instead.”

You told yourself every single day since your friends drifted away that you wouldn’t cry.

No matter what anyone said. But the annoyance and helplessness that had built up during the day was already clawing at your delicate nerves.

Vil’s comment was merely what pushed it all over.

The rush of emotions pushing against your chest, restricting your breathing was the first sign of what was about to come. The burn in your nose was the second, along with the immediate blurring of your vision.

You tried, oh how hard you tried to stop it, but alas, tears can’t be stopped.

You stared down at your lap, watching the first of many drops fall onto your clenched fists. You could almost hear the abrupt halt of all the sounds and whispers in the large room. You stood up, chair clattering to the floor behind you.

“Please excuse me,” the whisper of your voice echoed around the silent room. You couldn’t and didn’t want to see Vil’s face as each step towards the door warranted more silent questions from your classmates.

[qrovidcore]

hey what’s up tumblr i’ve now seen hbo’s watchmen all the way through Three Fucking Times and i very well may go for a fourth if given an excuse whoops and apparently i can’t stop thinking about Laurie’s joke in She Was Killed By Space Junk, no i’m not the first person to analyze this and i’m sure i won’t be the last but i sure do have some Thoughts^TM,  so here’s some meta let’s go.

major spoilers ahead for the entire series:

Hey, it’s me again. I’ve got a joke. Stop me if you’ve heard this one. There’s this guy, he’s a bricklayer. He’s really good at it. He’s a real master of his craft. Because he’s precise. Every brick has its place. Anyway this guy has a daughter and he’s gonna teach her to be a bricklayer because after all, all a man has is his legacy. So dad decides to build a barbecue in the backyard. He does the math. He figures out exactly what he needs and he shows the daughter how to do everything. Step by step. And when he finishes, it’s a beauty. It’s a perfect barbecue. Just the way he drew it in blueprints. Only one problem. There’s a brick left over. One single brick. The guy freaks out. He must have done something wrong. He’s gonna have to start all over again. So he picks up his sledgehammer to knock the thing to pieces and his daughter suddenly says ‘daddy wait! I have an idea.’ She picks up the orphan brick and throws it up into the air as high as she can. And then…shit. Messed it up.

Okay forget that joke. Can I tell you another one?

As I said, I’m not the first to break down that Laurie is referring to specific people who have an influence on the story, there’s plenty of meta posts online that’ll say the same thing. I just think this is a Really Clever way to introduce us to her, to the major players in this story, and to the events from the comic that are going to end up being referenced. Anyhow, the bricklayer here is The Comedian. Laurie’s father. I’ll get back to this and how it connects later, but given that one of Watchmen’s major themes is the concept of legacy - who carries it and how, and what happens when that legacy is painful - this is a neat little hook into that idea. Laurie’s dad’s legacy. What she’s done with it, what she’s going to do with it, how she feels about it. Again, coming back to that.

Okay. Forget the brick. New joke. Three heroes die and they all show up at the pearly gates. God’s there and he’s going to decide what their eternal fate shall be: heaven or hell. Our first hero is dressed up like a big owl. God says to him “I gifted you the ability to make fantastic inventions. What did you do with this amazing talent?” Owl guy says “I made this really awesome flying ship and lots of cool outfits and weapons so I could bring peace to the city.” God asks, “So how many people did you kill?” Owl guy seems offended. He says “Zero. I didn’t take a single life.” God frowns. “Sorry owl guy, your heart’s in the right place but you’re just too soft.” God snaps his fingers and the hero goes to hell.

I'm not super into the comic so it took me a while to get that she's referencing Nite Owl. I think this is strange since he doesn't appear in the show himself, whereas everyone else she talks about does, but I suppose it gives a more rounded-out view of the different approaches to heroism, and what exactly constitutes it, and also ties in another one of the original Minutemen. They did cut this over her arrest of Mr. Shadow in the bank, which makes me wonder about his role and why he appeared, and I still find it strange that this part of the joke wasn't about someone who had more of a presence in the show. (Though that being said, DC making fun of Batman, their own big-ticket character? 10/10 thank you for this).

Where was I? The pearly gates await our next hero in line for Almighty judgment. Our hero number two is confident he can game this out because that’s his God-given talent: smarts. Some might even say he’s the smartest man in the world. “So what did you do with that big brain I gave you?” asks God. “As a matter of fact, I saved humanity, ”says Smarty Pants. “Well how’d you do that,” asks God.” “Well I dropped a giant alien squid on New York and everybody was so afraid of it they stopped being afraid of each other.” “OK,” says God. “How many people did you kill?” Smarty Pants smiles. “Three million, give or take. But you can’t make an omelet without breaking a couple of eggs. “Christ,” God says. “You’re a fucking monster.”  “Am not,” says Smarty Pants. God snaps his fingers and our hero goes to hell.

GOD YES PLEASE DRAG OZYMANDIAS. GET THIS FUCKER’S ASS. Though the line that’s sticking out to me here is “You can’t make an omelet without breaking a couple of eggs.” Watchmen’s got an egg motif - and that’s an entire post on its own - and wow this is a place to drop it. I find it interesting that it’s given to Adrien here. Especially since it comes back later, when Will tells Angela that that’s what Jon said in justification of giving his life to stop the 7th K/Cyclops and Trieu. Eggs are used for a lot of things, but this line ties the motif solidly to a value of life here - how Adrien is the way he is because he refuses to value other peoples’, and maybe how Jon is the way he is because, when you can see the future laid out before you and live knowing how you’re going to die, how do you learn to value your own?

Okay. We’re down to the nitty gritty now. One hero left. God cracks his knuckles ready to administer the final reckoning. Now Hero Number 3 is pretty much a god himself. So for the sake of telling them apart, he’s blue and he likes to stroll around with his dick hanging out. He can teleport, he can see into the future, he blows shit up. He’s got actual superpowers. Regular God asks Blue God what have you done with these gifts?” Blue God says “I fell in love with a woman, I walked across the sun, and then I fell in love with another woman. I won the Vietnam War. But mostly I just stopped giving a shit about humanity.” God sighs. “Do I even need to ask how many people you’ve killed?” Blue guy shrugs. “A live body and a dead body have the same number of particles so it doesn’t matter. And it doesn’t matter how I answer your question because I know you’re sending me to hell.” “How do you know that?” asks God. Blue God sounds very sad when he softly says “Because I’m already there.” And so, a mere piston in the inevitable of time and space God does what he did and will do. He snaps his fingers and the hero goes to hell.

And now, we’ve got Jon. Dr. Manhattan. It's a neat moment of insight into his actions, motives, and how those are perceived by others (namely Laurie), and it's a nice thread of introduction to his previous actions to drop for audiences who haven't read the comics (actually, I can make this point about Adrien’s part of the joke too). Especially because most of what we get of Jon in-show is his relationship with Angela, his entire character arc really revolves around her and we don't see him portrayed as the contentious, unfeeling figure the world sees him as. So this sort of contrast between him as a figure and him as a person is very telling, doubly so coming from someone who it's clear knew him. And I really appreciate that there’s just as much stiffness as there is warmth to the Jon we the audience see - he’s kind, he’s loving, but he’s also very matter-of-fact and deterministic, and that bit of characterization really spans the gap between these two versions of him.

And so it’s been a long day at the pearly gates. All the heroes have gone to hell. His work done, God’s packing up to go home and then he notices someone waiting. But it’s not a hero, it’s just a woman. “Where did you come from?” asks God. “Oh I was just standing behind those other guys the whole time, you just didn’t see me.” “Did I give you a talent,” God asks. “No, none to speak of,” says the woman.  God gives her a good long look. “I’m so sorry. I’m embarrassed. Seriously, this almost never happens but I don’t know who you are.” And the woman looks at God and she quietly says “I’m the little girl who threw the brick in the air.” And a sound from above, something falling: the brick. God looks up but it’s too late. He never saw it coming. It hits him so hard, his brains shoot out his nose. Game over. He’s dead. And where does God go when he dies? He goes to hell. 

Into some Thoughts^TM that I haven’t seen anyone theorize yet(?): I think God is meant to be Lady Trieu, and even if Laurie wouldn’t know this yet that’s some brilliant fucking foreshadowing. It's not as exact, but enough parallels are there that I think they're purposeful. It makes Trieu out as the ultimate judge of everyone - and in a way, she is. She sees herself as the most deserving of power of everyone, and it's her who kills Dr. Manhattan - sends him to hell, you could say, and he knows she's going to do it. It also hints at how she's going to die too, crushed by her machine falling from the sky like the brick, because she didn't expect anyone would be capable of stopping her. And where does God go when he dies? He goes to hell. Trieu isn't ultimately above the others, and she's subject to their justice as they are to hers. 

Fitting too that Laurie is involved with the plan to stop Trieu, since, as I said I’d come back to, the girl who threw the brick is Laurie herself. Her depiction of herself in this way is representative, perhaps, of Laure's own feelings on vigilantism and what justice is, and that she's the force that's going to bring down these overblown personalities and their many incorrect uses of their abilities. Given this, it's interesting to think how the "failed" joke at the beginning connects, given that Laurie's dad is the bricklayer, and he's definitely... not a good person, or at least not in this continuity. But I wonder if it's indicative of what Laurie mentions about her parents training her up to do vigilante stuff (especially since she’s based in part(?) on a member of the Minutemen from the comic), and how she feels about her father and his work. If the brick is symbolic of his work as a vigilante, is Laurie throwing the brick in the air, and ultimately taking down the threat at the top, meant to indicate how she sees herself using what she learned from him, or - maybe and - a disrespect for his work based on her justified hatred of him?

Roll on snare drum. Curtains. Good joke. 

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

It’s not scary when it’s with you

Warning: this story depicts domestic physical and mental abuse (not between Eddie and Richie though), so please don’t read this if you’re not comfortable with that. 

Summary:  Can you write a fic where instead of marrying a woman, Eddie marries a man who looks like richie, but who behaves just like Beverly's husband? I've been thinking about it a lot

A/N: I hope this is what you wanted anon, let me know what you think. Also I would just like to say that this is partially how I experienced some abuse, but I know that not everyone does in the same way so I just wanted to say. 

Sometimes, whenever Richie is gone off to do a show or get groceries, Eddie likes to think back to his past. Well, likes is a wrong word, but sometimes when Eddie can’t help but feel like he’s not doing as much as he can, like he’s not brave enough, and then it helps to think back of the place he started.

 To the person he was before getting back to Derry, and getting all his friends back, so he can see the true progress he has made.

He’s having another one of his moments, where he is toying with the edge of the blanket of his bed while staring into an empty space full off nothing, the thoughts in his mind gathering themselves ready to take him through the entire mess that he once called his life. Like usual, Eddie’s not trying to stop it from happening, he’s learned from experience that that only causes the flashbacks to more violent.

Even years later, Eddie still can’t figure out how he let himself get roped into the relationship the way he did. After suffering through all the abuse his mother put him through, he ran straight into another sort of abuse.

When he met Chris the very first day he started working at the insurance company, he wasn’t even hiding that he was kind off an asshole. He was brushing off some poor intern when he tried to hand him the wrong coffee, and Eddie was sure that he was getting more mad and mad by the second, but then he stopped as soon as he saw Eddie. He was just so fucking charming, and when he never let that side of him out again, Eddie assumed that he had a bad day, and it was a onetime occurrence.

It wasn’t, and he got a lot worse than Eddie had seen that day.

It didn’t start out with physical abuse at first either, no instead, he used mental tactics to begin with. Eddie has no idea how he could have been so stupid to walk into the same trap that his mother had spun around him before, but alas, it happened and there was no use thinking about the what if’s. He had actually been really proud of himself for daring to go into a relationship with a man, even though his mother disowned him and refused to see after he came clean about it.

He was foolish enough to think that escaping one abuse was enough for him to be happy, but he was proven wrong faster than he hit the water after jumping of the quarry cliff back in Derry, back when he was still a kid.

Chris and Eddie celebrated his mother exiting his life with champagne and strawberry’s, and Eddie will always connect those two things to new beginnings, for the next day the mental torment began.

Chris liked to critize everything Eddie did, even complaining about the way he would clean the house, despite knowing about how germophobic Eddie truly was, and seeing firsthand how meticulous Eddie scrubbed the entire place. He found it funny to place dirt in places that Eddie had just cleaned to a T, going as far as placing a dead rat in the bathtub when he knew Eddie was going to use it right after.

Eddie had shrieked loudly, sending him straight into another ‘asthma attack’ while locking himself in his bedroom  out of pure fright. If only the memories of Derry had still been with him, he would have realized that there were worse things to be afraid of. Like IT, or Chris for example.

Eddie couldn’t even explain why that scared him so much, or how hurt he felt by the ‘prank’, because when he tried to, Chris devalued his feelings, telling Eddie to stop being such a baby, and that he was overreacting.  

He should have left after that, but he was young and stupid and he didn’t have any real friends, only his coworkers at the office who were also friends with Chris, so they weren’t an option anyhow. He didn’t even have his mother at that point either, not that that was a better alternative at the time regardless.

The longer he stayed with Chris, the more he was being brainwashed into believing that he was really blowing things out of proportions, and that he should listen to whatever Chris told him, since he could do everything better himself apparently.

He would complain about every small thing, and after a while Eddie got so tired of hearing what he constantly did wrong, that he decided to try and adjust himself as best he could to fit Chris standards.

He figured Chris was right, since all he had ever heard in his life was how delicate he was, and how he needed his mom to help him with everything, which was what Chris also told him all the time. He was always told that whatever he wanted to do was wrong, he was too vulnerable for it, and the judgment of both of his mother and Chris displayed just came out of place of love.

Eddie wouldn’t be Eddie however, if he didn’t get random burst of bravery mixed in with determination coming from seemingly nowhere.

At times, he would shoot back defenses at Chris, when he was fed up with constantly being criticized, despite knowing that would only piss him off. That was when Chris hit him for the very first time.

Eddie had only dropped a plate, but when Chris started yelling at him like he set the house on fire, Eddie screamed back. He called Chris a know-it-all, who did nothing but harass him all day, and that if he could do it better he should just do it himself.

Chris saw red, looking much like he had a sunburn, and his pupils had dilated so much the green had disappeared, leaving nothing but black in it’s wake. Eddie knew he was in trouble then.

The world seemed to crash to a stop the second his palm hit the left side of Eddie’s face, leaving an angry red mark in it’s wake that tingled for days afterwards.

Eddie laughed it off to his colleagues, claiming that he had fallen unto the side of his kitchen table at home, but he didn’t know how much of them actually believed him. It’s not like it mattered anyway, none of them cared enough to look further into it.

The hotel room had been booked faster than Chris could utter an apology, with Eddie rushing to grab a few clothes that he had stashed up in a suitcase he always had on hand for when he needed to go on a last minute work trip, nearly actually falling down when he speeded towards his car.

His act of defiance hadn’t lasted long. The thing was that Eddie had been stuck without anyway to escape his boyfriend. Which was as good of an excuse as any other, but it was still true.

Chris worked as his supervisor, so wherever Eddie went to work, Chris was there too. Even Eddie’s bathroom breaks shortened at Chris’s request, and when Eddie managed to excuse himself and go,  Chris coincidently happened to be there as well when he exited the bathroom stall.

It got so bad that Eddie took a few days of work, but he was in no position to stay home, or more correctly his hotel room, then a few days, since he really needed the money.

A new job had been whipped of the table too, since they would certainly call the last place Eddie worked at, and then they would be confronted by Chris, who without doubt had no problem with lying and twisting things to make Eddie look like the bad person.

And then there was the emotional manipulation. He would buy Eddie so many expensive things, even though Eddie never asked for that, to gain his gratitude. That way, whenever he hit Eddie, or if Eddie tried to shake Chris’s words off him and didn’t listen to him, Chris could remind him of all the thing he bought for him, and make Eddie feel guilty that he was being so rude to Chris in the first place.

After five days, Eddie moved back in with Chris, continuing the cycle of mistreatment. He didn’t hurt Eddie physically often, but the threat of it hung over Eddie’s head at every moment like a thundercloud, scaring him enough to stay quiet and listen to everything Christ said to him.

Chris was visibly delighted in the way he could say anything to Eddie and get away with it, using that to his advantages at any time. The only thing Chris never did was call Eddie ‘Eds.’. For some reason, whenever Chris would call him that, he would get so irrationally mad, that Chris was worried he was losing his control over him, so he never used ‘Eds’ ever again.

It wasn’t ‘till two years later, while having dinner with the losers for the first time in 27 years, that Eddie would remember why he hated it so much when it came from Chris.

Sometimes, Eddie would grab a pillow and smashed it to the floor a few times, imagining that it was actually Chris himself. He would gain some sense of defiantment, and he would tell himself that the last day of Chris tyranny had passed. However, by the time Chris would get home and laid one hard look on Eddie, he crumbled like a sand cookie.

The day he married Chris, was arguably the worst day of his life, even worse than the day he had to go into the sewers to save Beverly, or the day he left Derry and left his friends behind too. The Party went on till one a.m. the next day, but Eddie had spend most of the night tending to his injured foot, which Chris had repeatedly stamped upon after Eddie accidently stepped on his while dancing.

Eddie couldn’t have thought of anything he wanted to do less than get married to Chris, but he was scared of the things he was capable off, so he didn’t see any other available answer than yes when Chris inevitably popped the question.

He likes to think that if he had remembered his friends, if he had recalled the summer where he threw away his placebo medicine, then he wouldn’t have gotten in a relationship with him. It’s wishful thinking, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t roam his mind on the daily.

When Mike called him, he had felt something he had not experienced in a long time.  A feeling of white hot anger stabbed him straight in the abdomen and spread throughout his entire body like a virus.

At once, he recalled so many new memories that had been locked away in the deepest part of his brain and were now unlocking themselves, sliding back into places Eddie didn’t even know things were missing.

The recollections were still vague, things like names or particular faces not having shown themselves yet, but he did know one thing, and that was that he had survived something so out of this world that he was sure it was the devil on earth, and he had fucking beaten him.

He stood tall against a monster, what kind he was still unaware off, and he was done getting pushed over by every single person in his life, that ship had sailed.

He agreed with Mike to return to Derry as fast as possible, quickly assembling the same suitcase he used to go to a hotel the first time Chris had laid a hand on him, before turning towards the stairs to run out.

However, when he did, Chris was standing in the door opening eying Eddie with as much rage as toddler did whenever their mother wouldn’t give them the candy they had asked for and they were about to throw a tantrum.

He was sporting a wicked smile on his face too, as if just the thought of Eddie leaving him was too ridiculous to even consider.

Eddie gripped his handbag firm, glancing back and forth between the door and Chris to find the fastest way to get out. He had hoped to get out without Chris noticing, but that was clearly out of the question.

When he tried to however, he was gripped tightly by the arm, forced by him to drop the bag and walk backwards to stop the pain. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Chris had asked him in that tone he got when he was about to explode on Eddie, the one that told Eddie he should think very hard about what his next words would be.

Eddie can’t remember in detail what happened after that. He got out of the house in hurry, leaving with nothing expect the luggage he already had at his disposal, and his passport and phone. He knows that at some point Chris’s fist hit him in the stomach, for there was a bruise to show for it, but it’s not as bad as it could have been, luckily.

Eddie had thrown his ring at Chris, yelling that he wanted a divorce, and when he later sat in his car calming down a bit, he was surprised he had managed to do that.

It was like his entire being had been focused on letting out all the anger and the hurt he had experienced over the years, and he was besides himself. He panicked at first, because he had absolutely nowhere to go, he didn’t remember the losers yet at that point, until he snapped out of it and tried to focus on the task at hand, which had been to drive to Derry. It had not been easy, and it wasn’t up until IT tried to kill him and the losers, that it really slipped his mind.

It was Richie that brought it up again, after they had defeated IT in it’s lair and they shared a attentive kiss outside with the sun shining upon then while the house collapsed a few meters away from them.

The slime stuck to them like glue even when Eddie tried to wipe it off, so Eddie refused to make the kiss last long, insisting that they needed to get clean first before doing it again. He watched Richie’s face go from somber, at Eddie’s first words, to absolutely ecstatic in two seconds flat.

They skipped the quarry, opting to go get clean in Richie’s bathroom, considering Bowers blood was all over Eddie’s, and spent some time just between the two of them. When Eddie unknowingly pulled of his shirt, Richie had gasped, staring at the dark blue bruise that had formed on the place Chris’s fist had landed.

Up until that point, Eddie had done a good job hiding what happened after he left Derry, and the years of assault he suffered from, but now the cat was out of the bag and Eddie was so tired of having to hide his emotions from people, that he promptly bursted into tears.

Richie, the sweetheart that he is, even if Eddie will never say that to his face, had rushed to his side immediately, doing everything he could to stop Eddie from crying, pulling him as close as possible but still so that he wouldn’t hurt Eddie.

With his lips pressed to Eddie’s forehead, rocking them gently back and forth,  he began whispering reassurances, varying from how he would never hurt Eddie, to how he would make sure never else ever could. He later took it upon himself to tend to Eddie’s wound every night until it was healed, showing the soft and patient side of him mostly Eddie got to see.

Richie remained as loving as he did the first week he and Eddie got together. People often said that couples lose their romantic side the longer they are seeing each other , but the opposite was true for Richie and him.

He still woke up at least once a week to Richie bringing him breakfast in bed, or when he forget his lunch at the new job he worked at and Richie would prepare him a lunch and bring it to him shamelessly walking through the office.

One of his coworkers joked that Richie was like a lapdog, and he was ready to do anything for Eddie like a dog would do anything to catch a ball that was thrown. Richie proudly proclaimed this to be the truth.

‘Hey Eds?’ A voice suddenly pulls him out of his thoughts, Eddie turning around to see Richie carrying a coffee in his one hand, and a tea in the other.

Contrary to Eddie, Richie absolutely hates coffee, and he limited Eddie’s intake to one a day, since Eddie had a reputation of going a little overboard with it. If he drinks too much off the warm beverage he tends to get hyperactive to the point where he is running around like he’s a twenty-year old college student, and his hyperactive mind cannot keep up with everything that’s happening.

And that, that stupid little thing is what caused Eddie to truly realize how in love with Richie he really was. He obviously knew that he loved Richie, and he wanted to live with him or else he would be somewhere else right now, but the fact that Richie actually cared about his wellbeing, that small sign of caring someone in a way that is healthy, made Eddie understand what it felt like to be truly loved.  

Richie smiles gently at him, placing the two cups at the edge of the coffee table where Richie sometimes writes his material on, stepping forward slowly and with careful steps. He not scared of scaring Eddie finally, but even that took a long time, and he still doesn’t want to risk it.

At first, Richie flat out refused to bicker with him the way that they always did. Eddie can recall every single word of his speech in great detail.

‘Listen, Eds. I just got this with you, this whole relationship thing, and I don’t want to lose that. I love you, and I’m not too keen on things changing between us either, but the last thing I ever plan on doing is hurting you or scaring you and I don’t know when you find our bickering funny and when you’re genuinely scared. Until I do, I’m not going to bicker with you at all. You’re just going to have to survive without your mom jokes for a while. A shit okay, I’m going to stop bickering with you starting now.’

It was all meant lovingly, even Eddie knew that, but Richie glossed over the fact that Eddie wanted nothing more but to feel normal with someone. He was treated as a kid all his life, and now that he finally managed to break free from everything holding him back in life, for real this time, he was going to remain as hardheaded as he wants to be. And he wanted their interaction to include as much bickering as he damn well pleased.

He told Richie as much, who had then considered his feelings, and slowly reintroduced their bickering comments like they had never really left.

‘Oh fuck off asshole. Be a man and be convinced you’re right so I can prove to you how wrong you really are.’

With cautions. If Richie so much as saw what he thought might be a flinch, he dropped everything and let the subject die down along with their bickering.

Eddie’s path to healing had been anything but easy of course, and Richie wasn’t wrong, sometimes Eddie would get frightened over nothing, and he would be so disappointed at himself at those times.

Back at the Jade The Orient, when the losers talked about marriage, and Eddie had refused to say disclaim anything about his, Richie yelled ‘fuck you’ loudly, and it didn’t scare Eddie at all. He knows that Richie is not like that, that Richie is one big goofball who literally couldn’t hurt a fly. The insults he throws at Eddie are filled with poorly concealed affection, and the way he absolutely glows when he makes Eddie laugh makes the day appear a tad brighter.

Still, sometimes Richie will make a joke about fucking his mom, and Eddie would respond with the most fiery response he could come up with on the spot, he’ll freeze and wait for the hurt that he knows Richie won’t fire, but he still expects none the less. At those times Richie will give Eddie some space if he needs it, and if he doesn’t, he spends the whole night whispering to Eddie how much he loves him, and how brave he is.

Progress isn’t linear, but it still sucks sometimes.

Richie knows the signs of a ‘bad head day’, he calls them, where Eddie’s head fills up with bad memories and insecurities he tries to get rid of but most of the time can’t. When Eddie has days like this, Richie proceeds with caution, not wanting to make a sudden move and send Eddie even further into his head, even though Eddie always feels a bit better after laying eyes on Richie.

‘How are you doing? Can I help?’

Richie sits next to him on the bed, unclenching Eddie’s fist from the bedsheets and clutching them in his own, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.  Eddie shakes his head while looking over at Richie, since there really isn’t anything that he can do, and the moments are not as bad as they used to be anyway.

He places his head on one of Richie’s broad shoulders, using it to pillow his head and letting out a content sigh. An arm is placed behind his back, Richie’s arm twisting as best it can to rub into the lower area, the place Eddie complains about having pain the most.

‘You know, the last time I did this with someone was with your mom.’

Eddie laughed, his entire frame shaking with it as he lightly shoved him with his shoulder. It makes Richie happy, to know that Eddie is comfortable enough around him to be able to do that without flinching afterwards. He’s so

‘Brave, you’re brave Eds. The bravest man I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.’

He noses at the top of Eddie’s head, happy that he’s there and that Richie can help him in whatever way he can.  

‘Shut up’, Eddie complains, but he can’t help the pride fizzling over him at the words.

‘No it’s true. I mean who can say they survived a killer clown, a horrible mother, and a piece of shit and still didn’t let any of it bother him?’

‘Me I guess.’

‘Not you guess, you know.’

His body bent in an awkward position to do so, Richie places a kiss atop his nose, joyful when it pulls a giggle out of Eddie.

‘I don’t want to think about that. All that matters is that we’re here, and we’re together. You’re the best part of my life Rich. I hope you know that. With you, I realize that I don’t have to be scared anymore.’

To hide the tears burning in his eyes wanting to come out, Richie presses Eddie a little closer, slotting their lips together in a passionate kiss. Eddie’s lips were soft and warm, reciprocating with as much enthusiasm as he was receiving, the both of them poring their heart and soul into it. When Richie pulls away, he presses Eddie a little closer to his chest, nearly missing what Eddie says next.

‘And I also hope that you know that if you ever tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it to my dying breath.’

‘oh, I’m counting on it.’  

[beyoncesdragon]

Runaway

Pairing: MinhoxReader 

Warnings: swearing, some fighting and major asshole Minhoe 

Summary: When Thomas, a Greenie no longer than 3 days is promoted to a runner, and you who trained for month now, is being overlooked, it leads to a confrontation between you and Minho. A confrontation much needed, on top of that.

My Masterlist 

(Gif credits)

The sun hadn’t risen all too high when I reached the spot in front of the huge doors into the maze, dropping into the still wet grass. I leaned against the black stone wall and crossed my arms over my chest. I was properly pissed off to say the least. So pissed off that I even managed it to get up in that unholy hours of the morning, about one or two earlier than I, currently working as a Med-Jack, should get up. 

Currently because I was working hard on being able to change my task in the maze from Med-Jack to Runner. But observing the current course of things it looked like I could forget that. My head snapped up as I heard steps approaching me. My eyes immediately locked with a pair of brown ones, belonging to the keeper of the runners. 

Minho, the tall Asian with strong arms and short, black hair leaded the runners since I arrived in the maze and had intrigued me since then. He was rather aggressive in his way of engaging in a conversation, having a strong tendency to be extremely sarcastic. He was famous for his habit of always having the last word at any argument or debate and his quick ways of cornering you with arguments until you had to admit that he was right. But he had, through his sarcasm probably, the best senses of humour amongst the Gladers, and got along with everyone basically. Except for maybe Gally from time to time, but I assumed that this was only because the two were both hotheads. So no one could really blame me for feeling attracted to him, right? But now, now I could’ve punched him in his pretty face.

“Morning shebean…why are you up already?” Minho greeted me with a weird expression on his face. He probably knew exactly why I was here and not looking particularly happy. “Good morning Minho. I just wanted to check if what I heard is right…that you take a Greenie out into the maze.” Thomas next to him froze on spot, perfectly well hearing the bitter lilt I had purposely added to my spat out words. Minho tensed up a bit waiting for me to continue.

“So, how is he allowed to become a runner after not even being here for a whole week?!” Minho’s shoulders slumped down a bit before he fixed his posture again. “Listen…I get that you are maybe upset about that but can you not make a fuss now please? Thomas and I really need to go and…” I snorted angered.

“Why not? Why not make a fuss Minho? Listen I trained for the last two months to be in his position and – no offense Thomas, I really like you and you are a shucking fast runner and cute and all – but I have been here longer!” I hissed angrily, mimicking Minho’s pose by crossing my arms over my chest as well. Thomas threw me a puzzled look.

“No...no offense taken. But you…you think I’m cute?” Thomas asked, eyes wide. Minho rolled his eyes taking my attention from the Newbie again.

“Now Minho? I worked my shucking ass off for two whole months to be here okay? I worked as Slicer, in the Blood-House, as a builder, as everything really, just so I could one day qualify as a darn runner. Wouldn’t you be pissed off as well? Listen, if you don’t want to have me in the team then just say it right away before I embarrass myself further by exercising every damn day for it!” My blood was boiling as I finished my speech, staring angrily at his annoyingly pretty face. What I was telling him was all true and he knew: I had gotten up earlier to run rounds so I stay fit, get faster and more persistent every morning. I had learned to read the sun to find out how late it was or where I was. I had learned it all, just to be replaced by a Greenie, who was hardly three days in the Maze by now.

“It’s not even about that! It’s just that you…you just…” Minho started, but he seemed a little less confident in his arguments. That somehow made me even angrier. “That I what? Am a girl? Not fast enough? Spill Minho, don’t dare to come up with a lame excuse like not being able to expand the cadre by one more member!” I could see him slowly getting fed up with this situation, maybe with me. But I was so angry by now that I couldn’t get myself to the point where I would care.

“Can you at least listen to me, shebean!” he hissed annoyed, stepping a step closer, glaring down at me.” I pouted offended, trying my best not to feel too distracted by his close proximity.

“Shoot, runner. Tell me why I am not good enough.” I pushed out and he snorted irritated. “Good gods it’s not…it’s about you having to be able to defend yourself in a proper way!” I frowned up to him.

“I can defend myself? I learned how to handle a spear a dagger and even a gun…” he just shook his head. “Oh yeah? So how would you react if I would suddenly go crazy? What if we were in the maze and I got stung…and the poison makes me attack you? Come on, show how you handle that!” when he before seemed passive-aggressive, then he now went fully hostile. Handing me one of his knifes, he drew another one before starting to circle me. With a sudden leap, he tried to surprise me and I could block him in the last moment. Minho was fast, incredibly fast actually. He had me quickly on the ground, pressing me down onto the cold grass. With a serious glance down he rose his arm and it looked like he would actually try to stab me. I could dodge the blade quickly, and tried to roll out of his reach, but Minho was again, faster than I was. Suppressing a wince I blocked another stroke. I could slowly fear a form of fear creep up, since he seemed to be determined to hurt me.

“What the shuck is going on here?” Newt’s voice made Minho stop for a few seconds. I glanced up at him, seeing how other people slowly gathered around us.

“I’m just proving a point.” Minho pushed out, looking back at me. Then, completely out of the blue, Minho just absolutely remorseless pressed his blade against my throat. I managed it somehow to push him away, but he had quickly found his spot again, this time pining my arms down as well.

“Minho stop now, it’s okay. We got it, she got it as well. Calm down.” Newt mumbled, giving me a quick and slightly confused glance.

“Alright.” Minho jumped off me, knocking the dirt off his pants. “How you see, you aren’t exactly prepared for the maze in this way. Now step aside, we already are late, should’ve left half an hour ago.” His tone was harsh and cold and I could only stare at him. He couldn’t be bloody serious, could he? With a gulp I turned away, rushing off in anger and with tears in my eyes.

How dare he? How was that stupid exercise anyhow proof that I was ready for the maze or not? Looking back at it, I was convinced more and more, that he had done this solely because he just really needed a reason to turn me down. And that hurt, especially because he did it like that.

When Thomas and Minho returned from the maze in the evening and came for check-ups into the med jack hut, I left the tent immediately without giving them a hint of attention. The anger, that had cooled down just very slightly during the day, boiled up the second I saw Minho approaching. I heard Minho sigh softly, calling my name out but I was already gone. I had no intention to talk to him anytime soon. Not tonight at the bonfire, not after the bonfire, not tomorrow and not in a week. Preferably not ever again.

“What’s up with you?” I looked up to Gally, holding a bundle of wood in his arms. “Minho’s up.” I answered, following him to the pile of already stacked wood for tonight. “Wanna talk about it?” Gally offered, dropping the wood down. I shrugged. “There isn’t much to talk about really. He’s just acting like a total shank and I can’t deal with it I guess.” Gally laughed softly, patting my shoulder.

“That he is. I heard what happened this morning at the doors. Wasn’t cool, not at all.” I shrugged bitterly, tossing a piece of wood onto the stack. “Guess everyone heard about it. And the rest saw it live.” Gally sighed, giving me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry about that.” I waved him off. “Don’t be. There is no reason for you to be sorry about it, you weren’t acting like a dick.”

“Light him up!” Alby shouted and several burning spears were thrown at a high wooden stake with a bulls’ skull on a pole. The chanting set in and I let my eyes wander over the seemingly all happy gladers around the fire, avoiding a certain section around the fire where the runners were standing. “You want something to drink?” Gally offered, handing me a jar of liquor. I shrugged, taking a few gulps just to feel the bitter alcohol numb my tongue immediately. I wanted to hand him the jar back, when I suddenly realised that Gally was no longer next to me. Instead, Minho had taken his place quietly, looking down at me.

“Still mad?” he asked carefully, reaching for the liquor but I pulled back. He sighed. “So you choose to ignore me now? For how long do you think this’ll work out?” I huffed frustrated, giving him an angry glare.

“You seriously think, you deserve anything less? You humiliated me in front of almost everyone, for no reasonable aim at all. Let’s face it Minho, you just don’t want me on the team.” I spat out, causing him to run his fingers through his hair with an irritated growl.

“Oh can you lay off of it already! I told you…” “You started it! Go and blame yourself, you miserable liar.” I chimed angrily, my fists clenched. “Liar? Oh I am a liar now as well?” Minho argued back, his jaw clenching. All the voices suddenly quieted down, and I could feel everybody’s eyes on us. But I again, was too angry to care.

“Yes! Admit it Minho, no one would have to fight like this in the maze. You know exactly that I could never stand a chance against you. You just wanted to be sure that you had another reason why I wasn’t qualified!” Minho snorted. “Oh really? Is that how you think I…do you know what?” his eyes were blazing of anger, a vein pulsated at his neck and his whole body was tense.

“Yes. Yes, you are right. I knew that I would defeat you and I did try to make sure you weren’t qualified for it.” Though, I kinda expected it to be like that, his bluntness still surprised me. And it hurt me quite a lot.

“W-what?”

But he wasn’t quite done yet. “You wanna know why? Because being a runner is so much more than just having a good sense of direction, high endurance or being fast. It is being able to think rational, to realize when you can take care of someone you care for, or when you have to leave him or her behind, knowing that else you wouldn’t make it back. It’s about being a loyal friend but never, not once look back in hazardous situations and just run, never stop until safe.” I gulped nervously, feeling my confidence and anger melt away.

“But…but what do I have…?” I stuttered, stepping back carefully. Minho immediately followed up.

“You wanna know why or how this is affecting you? It is because I am a quite…selfish person. I could neverthink rational if you were with me, I could never leave you behind in the maze when you were injured. I would always look back to make sure your dumbass is safe and alive. And I could never forgive myself if something happened to you.” my eyes widened, thoughts of confusion and disbelief rotating in my brain.

“Does that mean that you…I mean…?” He suddenly looked resigned. “I care about you. Quite a lot actually, because I, how you maybe figured, like you. If you would excuse me no-…” he never managed to finish his now unsure trail of words, because I cut him off by leaping up and pressing my lips against his.

“And you hadn’t had the balls to just tell me? I like you too, slinthead. This could’ve been so easy…” Minho said nothing, a bright look in his eyes. Then suddenly, he pulled me up again, placing his lips back on mine. I could feel his lips turn up into a smirk before we parted again, and he brushed over my lips with his index finger. “Guess I don’t only run away from grievers love. Sorry to disappoint you, but I am not particularly brave…” he ushered amused, tilting his head.

“But it still doesn’t change a thing.” I narrowed my eyes. “You stay in here, doll. Can’t have you out there.” I hit his chest in response, making everyone chuckle. The only difference was now that I understood why. 

I still wasn't fully convinced though...but for now I would accept my fate. For now. 

[fluffyvillain]

The Bond

Chapter: 4/?

Summary: Henry and Mila meet again after two years

Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC

Warnings: A little swearing, like two words

"And what did you do after that?" Doctor Leitmann adjusted his glasses.

"I invited some friends over and I drank, a lot." Mila was completely honest as that was the deal between the two of them.

"Mhm, you see, it's not uncommon for people to swap one addiction with another and, let's face it, craving for a soulmate is sort of an addiction. Not rarely do people substitute this addiction with a different one, the one that allows them not to feel."

"I don't plan on doing that, but I have to admit that it did make me forget, even for only a few hours."

"Alright. Now, can you, please, tell me how you felt after you had left Henry at the restaurant."

Mila put both of her legs on the chair where she was sitting, hugging her shins, leaning chin on her knees. "Disappointed. Sad. Hollow. Piqued. Broken. Angry."

"Were you angry because of the way he treated you or because you didn't bond?"

"Because of the way he acted, the fact he doesn't feel the same about me makes me devastated."

"That's good, some people get angry at their soulmate because they don't feel the same way, but that is not something they chose, just like you didn't choose to feel this way for him, that is destiny. Now I'm going to ask you to do something you probably won't like, but you need it in order to begin your healing."

"Please, do."

"I need to contact Henry one more time, just to make sure. Ask him to meet you, try to explain that he got the wrong picture of you."

"Is that really necessary?" Mila felt like throwing up just thinking about it.

"I'm afraid it is, if you don't do this, you will always live with a grain of doubt."

"Well, my pride is already bruised, so what is there left to lose?"

"We will talk again last week, like we agreed. Until then, I want you to practice all the breathing techniques I showed you and everything else."

"I will, thank you."

"You have my number, if get into crises, feel free to call me at any hour."

"Thank you. Goodbye, doctor."

Mila decided to rip off the band aid right away.

 Dear Henry,

 Can we meet again? I wasn't lying about what I said. Please.

 Mila

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

10 DAYS LATER

 "So, what are your impressions after first week as a CEO?" James asked Mila.

"It's okay, a little bit stressful, but i like the position so far. And it's not like I could even make a mistake when gramps has been checking up on me the whole time."

Robert put down his glass on a table. "That's absolutely not true."

"Really, gramps? Out of 5 business days, you visited me only 4 times and you missed the 5th one only because you had a meeting outside of town." Mila raised an eyebrow at her grandfather.

"Can you blame me for wanting to help you?" Mila's eyebrow shot up even higher. "Okay, I just have to make sure that you have everything under control before I retire."

"Dad, we all know that you are never going to retire. Or you will, for a month or two." Rose joined the conversation.

"I second that." James supported his wife.

"We agree too," twins exclaimed in unison and once again their family was creeped out by the fact that they often said the exact same thing at the exact same time.

"Anyhow, I invited you here for a reason. So, you all know how I've always talked about finding my other half..." three silent nods followed, and two eye rolls - which were followed by their mother's death glare. "Well, that's not happening. I mean, it did happen, I met him, but we didn't bond. He simply doesn't feel it." Everyone kept silent, staring at her, except for uncle Blake, his eyes were fixated on the table. "I seeked professional help and I was advised to share this with my family, not to keep it inside. I've tried contacting him again, but he ignored me, so, definitely, that's it. I didn't even know that that could happen, but it can and it did happen to me." She took a deep, shaky breath.

"Cuz," Stephan grabbed Mila's hand and she expected words of support coming from him, "do you want us to kick his ass? We can do that much."

"I highly doubt that would be possible."

"Do you really think we can't do that, that we aren't strong enough? Who is that guy?" Mike supported his brother.

"Your favourite Superman."

"Christopher Reeve? He's a little dead I'm afraid."

"Okay, your second favourite."

"Cavill?"

"That's the one."

"Okay, maybe we cannot fight him, but he just dropped to the bottom of my list."

"Thanks, Mike, it means a lot to me."

"That's not fair." Everyone turned to Rose. "It's just not. Why would that happen, why to you?"

"Auntie, I will be fine, it will not be easy, but I will truly be fine. Don't you know me? I have my job to keep me busy, I will do different stuff to keep me occupied, like Sudoku, crosswords, playing video games, reading. I won't sink." Mila wasn't saying this just so Rose would calm down, she was sure she could do it, because she had to.

Robert walked over to his granddaughter speechlessly, he kissed her forehead before he excused himself to go to the bathroom, only Blake noticed a single tear rolling down his cheek, but he chose not to mention it even to his wife.

Rose insisted on staying with Mila overnight, but Mila refused. She needed to be alone, she needed to figure this out on her own. After she had bid them goodbye, she did the dishes, really focusing on what she was doing and it took her three times longer than necessary. Dishwasher wasn't even an option in her recent past or future, she used everything, every possible chore to get her mind of the way Henry felt.

Nights were the worst, she didn't know it at this moment, but it would take her months to be able to fall asleep without much trouble. Tonight wasn't an exception either, so Mila threw a blanket over her back, sitting in front of a glass wall of her living room, watching clouds get rid of excess energy, shooting up lightnings.

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

2 YEARS LATER

 Waking up 2 hours before having to go to work was difficult at first, but Mila got used to it now. Doing morning yoga and meditation became a forced habit of hers, she did it so much that she got trained to block Henry's feelings within minutes, but not this morning. She almost never got the feeling of sadness and pain coming from him and even if she did, it was for a very short time. This morning those feelings wouldn't go away, it took her a lot to tone them down to a point she only felt them in traces.

The same thing happened the next day and the day after the next one. On the third day, she could barely eat her lunch, so she retreated to her office and decided to do something she hasn't done since a few days after she had met Henry. She put his name in Google search engine and pressed enter.

  Henry Cavill breks up with a long time girlfriend as she finds her soulmate

Elaine Svensson finds her soulmate, dumps Henry Cavill

Henry Cavill is back on the dating market

 Those were the first three results. Oh, that's what's going on. No wonder he's been feeling this way. Now that she knew what was going on, she though it would be easier for her to block it. Knowing how much love he felt, it wasn't a surprise he felt that way.

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

2 WEEKS LATER

 After finishing her yoga session, Mila made herself a cup of tea. She got her phone off a charger to check her social networks, but she was surprised to see that she got a an e-mail on her personal address last nigh. She opened it and stared at it for quite some time, it was an e-mail she should've received 2 years ago.

 I was wrong, you are not just some crazy fan.

I did some research about you, I asked around, I know who you are.

We need to meet, does tomorrow work for you? I'll come to your hotel.

 Henry

 She wasn't sure whether she wanted to answer at first, but she wasn't like him, even if her response was negative, she wanted to do it. She just wasn't sure what to write, so she opted for a short one.

 FUCK YOU!

 No, that's a little harsh, it would be rude for you to write it.

 SCREW YOU! GO TO HELL!!!

 She pressed backspace until everything was deleted. Breathe, Mila. She knew exactly what was going on, he wanted her to be his rebound. Otherwise, she would feel the change in his feelings. He knew her love would be unconditional, that she would never leave him, but she wasn't anyone's second choice, not even his. She deserved better.

 Dear Mr. Cavill,

 Thank you for your e-mail.

Unfortunately, tomorrow doesn't work for me. As a matter of fact, any day after tomorrow doesn't work for me either.

 Best regards and good luck in your future endeavors,

Mila Radcliffe

 She did 15 more minutes of meditation again and then continued her day as usually, like nothing happened. Today was the day her company organized annual blood donating day. Her grandfather started it after her mother had been in a need of blood while in the hospital, even though it didn't do much for her in the end, Robert realized the importance of blood donating. He saw it as an homage to her daughter and Mila continued his legacy.

When she was done with daily reports, she joined her coworkers in a conference room where blood donating was held. She was among the last ones, she greeted her colleagues first: "Hello everyone, you are doing an amazing thing, thank you." Then she greeted the medical staff before she filled in a standard form, they checked her hemoglobin level and then she proceeded to a quick doctor's check up. "Is everything alright, doctor?"

"It is, thank you for doing this again."

"Pleasure is all mine." Mila feed access to her biceps.

"Okay, let's check your blood pressure now." Doctor wrapped and inflatable cuff around her arm, she waited for a few seconds. "You are good to go. I just have one more question. I see in the system that you are a bone marrow donor to, have you ever donated?"

"Unfortunately, no. Nobody ever matched with me."

"Chances are 1:430, but even if you never get matched, just applying is a very noble thing. Well, that's all from me, you know the procedure."

It took less than 5 minutes for Mila to finish up the blood drawl, she thanked everyone again and left the conference room. The ones who donated blood didn't have to go back to work, especially if their job involved using physical strength, hers didn't and she was used to donating blood.

She rolled down her sleeve and continued to her office. Path leading there went through the hotel lobby, so she smiled and nodded at the front desk staff and tried to hurry in order not to disturb guests and visitors sitting there, but soon she stopped in her track when she heard someone calling her once and she knew exactly who he was.

"Mila," Henry approached her, confident steps, deep voice, arm firmly outstretched towards her.

If they were alone, she would've never accepted his hand, but she didn't want to make a scandal. She shook his hand for a second and she instantly started resenting herself for feeling the same electrical current coming through her like when she touched him the first time. "I think I made it clear that I didn't want to see you," she tried to be quiet enough so nobody else could her.

"Can we go somewhere more private, please?" Henry didn't pay much attention to her when they met, but now that he looked at her, she was beautiful. She was significantly shorter than him even on heels, he usually dated tall girls, but women's height wasn't something that was of utmost importance for him. Her large blue eyes had something worm in them even though her voice was ice cold. Since this was his best option, he could make it work, it wouldn't be so difficult. Maybe one day he would come to love her, now that Elaine would never be his again.

Mila looked him straight in the eye, his eyes looked tired and dark circles around his eyes gave out the fact that he didn't sleep in God knows how long. "Only because I don't need any kind of scandal here, let alone one caused by me. You can follow me to my office."

Henry followed silently, taking his time to analyze her appearance further. Her long dark brown curls bounced in the rhythm of her footsteps, she was on a skinnier side, but her ass didn't look skinny at all.

Mila pressed her ID card against a card reader and a door opened. "Please, go ahead," she held the door for him. They passed a few offices until they reached hers. When they entered, she gestured for him to have a seat on the opposite side of her desk, across from her chair. "Okay, go ahead. What do you want?"

"I need to apologize for my previous behavior first. I couldn't even grasp what you felt in that moment when you met me. You know, Elaine left me, about two weeks ago, we were out in a club and it was over in minutes. The person I though was the love of my life left me in about 15 minutes for her soulmate, after all the years we spent together, after I moved here for her. All of that didn't matter. That's when I saw how powerful that force is. I wish I could feel the same for you."

Mila looked at his blue eyes at first, noticing a little brown patch in one. In order to focus on what he was saying, she focused on a pile of papers in front of her. He sounded hurt and a part of him wanted to help him, to console him, but the part who wanted to kill him for even thinking about her as a consolation price won. "How stupid do you think I am? No, you don't. You wish your soulmate was Elaine and now that you can't have her anymore, you came to pick up your second prize. You miscalculated a bit, I learned to live without you and I'd rather be alone my whole life than feel like a silver medal you won, when all you've ever wanted was to win gold."

"That's not..."

"Let me stop you right there, I don't want you to waste your time anymore, nor do I want to waste mine." Mila stood up, she was the one who offered her hand now first.

Henry took it and shook it gently, he really thought that she would agree, he needed her to. He wanted to belong somewhere. "If you ever change your mind, you know how to find me."

"I won't and, please, if you ever run into me, just pretend that you didn't see me and that you don't know me, it will make things easier for me. Now, if you don't mind, I have a lot of work, you know your way out." She set back on the chair and gestured towards the door. "Goodbye, Mr. Cavill."

"Goodbye, Mila."

She waited until she heard a vague click of the second door before she threw a paper clip at the door, all of her pens followed. She slammed a drawer shut and then kicked a garbage can, feeling completely helpless. Then she lay on the floor in a fetal position, hoping the pain would go away and that her tears would dry soon.

[cheryllcher]

hold up can u imagine how much angrier adrien would be if adrienette was canon?? scene rewrite

A bit longer than i expected, because here i have adrien actually being observant and know wat's happening around him. really wish we had the keep reading thingy on mobile. ://

---

"Lila?" Adrien was happily greeting the photographer for waiting for him when he saw a familiar silhouette. Too familiar in fact.

"Do you know each other? Oh myyyyyy your papa's new muse is incredible! She's been all around the world, she knows all the celebrities and she's Italian, like me." The photographer pulled Adrien into a tight side hug, before enthusiastically raving about the achievements of the seated young girl, not that those achievements were real, anyhow.

Then Liela- I mean, excuse my language- Lila said something, but Adrien didn't register any of it. He was livid, furious! He was so infuriated that he could probably catch Hawkmoth's attention, but that could be dealt with later. He had more important matters at hand than some butterfly man desperate for some jewellery.

She knew that he knew of her untruthful ways, yet she still wormed her way into having a photoshoot with him, after all she's done? Those worms don't deserve to be associated with her either, neither do rats or any animal really. Adrien put on his best model smile, turning to the photographer. (sorry i didn't know how to spell his name oof)

"Would you mind leaving us alone for a second?"

"Sure!"

Adrien caught the flash of surprise on Lila's face, before it disappeared into a sickening faux sweet smile with fluttering lashes, before turning towards the Seine. Those eye flutters won't work on me Lila, I've seen through it all. Only one person is able to do that to me with a positive response.

He walked to the other available chair with purpose, gears in his mind churning, thinking of how he can go about this. However, he caught Nathalie watching over them from the corner of his eye, and knew that this conversation was to take place somewhere more private; somewhere away from the prying ears of his father's assistant.

"Actually, I think we should take a little walk around while we chat. I could use a little warm up before the shoot begins. Shall we?"

Lila buoyantly agreed, making quick work to rise from her seat, eager to please him. They strolled to a bench by the Seine, away from the roads which didn't allow any cars to follow them, let alone a certain one. And Adrien's sure that Nathalie would be smart enough to remain in the vehicle so as to not seem suspicious. Ha! I've already known anyway. He geastured to Lila to have a seat, sitting down himself. Sight remaining on the water before him, he began.

"I've warned you once already Lila, but you didn't listen. You've hurt Marinette and that's not okay." Straight to the point.

As expected, the cunning liar quickly scrambled to defend herself, and from his peripheral vision, he could see her feigning hurt. "Me? Hurting Marinette? But she's the one who-"

"I don't know how to prove you lied Lila, because you're good at it. And didn't we already established that I am very well aware of your lies? So you can stop pretending, because I know you're not the victim in this, not in any way." Actually she wasn't good, but Adrien wanted to give her something to be proud of. But if anything she should be ashamed of it.

"I-" Whether it was to continue playing the damsel or to finally drop the act and state her piece, Adrien didn't allow her to but cutting her off yet again. He was done with her dramatics.

"Marinette is my girlfriend Lila, I'm sure you of all people should know from all the snooping around that you did on behalf of my father. I love her very much, and this means that if she is hurt, whoever or whatever hurt her will regret doing so.

"I've been giving you so many chances, Lila, I really did. I wanted to believe there was some good in you, that you would eventually learn your lesson and change for the better. But I realised I was wrong, and look where that got us."

Lila was caught off guard by Adrien's knowledge of her attempts to spy on him, and even more so when he suddenly turned towards her, pure resentment clear in his features. It was a miracle that Hawkmoth hadn't sent out one of his butterflies yet. The emotion could be felt from a mile away. For once, Lila felt true fear, her face paling and hands shaking, completely betraying her act, much to Adrien's satisfaction.

"You've hurt my princess, and I'm not going to stand for that. I'm giving you one. Last. Chance, Lila. Admit to your lies to everyone, make sure that Marinette is no longer expelled. Face the music of your actions, no matter how loud and jarring it is. You are to show the world who Lila Rossi truely is."

Lila gulped, no longer having the upper hand and feeling as if she might pee her pants, literally. She had never heard his voice so low, never seen his eyes filled eith such fury. But she dared to challenge him, stubborn as she was.

"B-but... What if I d-don't...?"

"Then you will be exposed either way. Spin as many lies and excuses as you like, but there's no running away. I know much more than you think, Lila, and I'm not afraid to make use of what I know and possess. You better know what you will be walking into."

Oh, it was no empty threat. Adrien had accumulated enough over the time since Lila returned to school. Like the fact that she threatened Marinette in the bathroom, or the recording of how Lila delved into his things and harassed him back in his room, all safely stored in his extra phone that no one knows about. Not even his princess. He abruptly stood up and walked in the direction of the crew.

"A-Adrien? Where are you going?" He whirled back to face her, and his innocent sunshine look was back on.

"I'm telling them I'm not doing this or any shoots with you. As you've been invading my personal space and I'm feeling really uncomfortable with having you near me. You'll comply with my request, won't you?Because you're such a concerned friend who would do anything to make up for what you've done wrong..." A quick shift to the same glare from earlier.

"Because we're friends, aren't we?"

And as he walked away, Lila decided that she will still take the risk and believe that Adrien was only barking and no biting will be done. Tomorrow she will resume standing her ground and see what he really has to go against her. Curiousity killed the cat after all. But deep down in her heart, in the back of her mind, she knew her reputation will perish before her very eyes before she even knew it; no matter how much she tried to ignore that thought.