#anyway the vest came and i tried it on and it fits perfectly even closed and even over the thicker sweater i’m wearing rn

[ilostyou]

.

[getyouasenju]

Red Lights

a continuation to Drivers License I suggest reading it, but this can be a stand alone piece!

Master List

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Angst, Profanity, das it :)

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It was pitch dark outside by the time I had made it back to my apartment. I closed my door with a sigh, locking it as I turned to take off my shoes. Standing up I walk to my thermostat turning it up, silently cursing at myself for taking the long way in this cold weather. Making my way across the living room, I made sure all the blinds were closed for the night and then made a quick exit for the bedroom. I was drained, which was pathetic because this was supposed to be a huge moment for me and I was letting something so pitiful get in the way.

I make my way through my bedroom, throwing my keys and wallet onto my nightstand then making my way to my bathroom. I looked at my red puffy face as I snatched the hair-tie from my head groaning loudly. I hope it was dark enough so he didn't see this. Smacking my hand on my forehead I curse again, but this time out-loud. Glancing up I catch sight of my attire. Grabbing the flaps of my vest, I turn side to side examining myself. Hey.. I looked pretty good in this vest! I laughed to myself as I pulled it off and prepared myself for bed. I was determined to not let any of my hard work go to waste, to hell with him.

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“Huh?” 

I let out a confused sigh as I stood in the Hokage tower. It has been nearly two month since my promotion and I still had yet to go on any mission, I was a sitting duck. I was excited when I was summoned by the Hokage for a mission, only to to have it give away to Raidō, Gemna and Iwashi- again. “I just don’t understand,” I start carefully “Is there a reason I’m being pulled from this mission? Have I done something wrong?” Kakashi quickly shook his head “No, you’ve done nothing wrong (Y/N). You’re a perfectly capable Kunoichi. We just thought Raidō, Gemna and Iwashi would be a better fit.” He explains to me. Wait a second... we?

My eyes flicker the man standing besides him as soon as it clicks. He stood there, usual ponytail with crossed arms. So he was the reason I wasn’t getting any missions. I glare at him and try to catch his gaze as hard as I could for a moment as he tried his best to avoid it. I give in and turn my glance back to Kakashi and bow my head “Thank you Lord Sixth, please let me know if I can be of any assistance.” I respectfully make my exit as I try to hide the bitter taste that was in my mouth.

I didn’t realize how mad I was until the cold air hit my flushed face. To say I was frustrated was an understatement. Why does he have to be involved? He has officially erased all excitement for me. I didn’t want to be a stupid Jōnin anymore If he was going to play puppet master with me. Why is it his business on what missions I go on anyways? Stupid advisor. I kick a pebble and let out a frustrated groan when I hear the door open behind me and Immediately roll my eyes as I hear a lighter. I debated with myself before I turned my body towards him.

He stood a little bit from the entrance, cigarette in hand and a scowl on his face. Why was he upset? He was the one meddling in my business. I place my hands on my hips and glare at him. “Do you enjoy watching me suffer?” I question him. He looks taken back by my statement, but doesn’t respond. I scoff, crossing my arms and straightening out my back. “Why are you fixated on ruining me, Shikamaru.” He frowned, taking a final drag of his cigarette and then proceeding to throw the cigarette down. “I’m not trying to ruin you, (Y/N).” He responded plainly.

I let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, so you just take me off missions for fun? I know it’s your doing, don’t insult my intelligence.” I argued back with him, I wasn’t going to play dumb with a genius. He chuckles before addressing me. “So the whole world’s out to get you, huh?” he sneers back at me. My eyes widened, his tone was surprisingly icy. What the fuck? What the hell was he so angry about? His life was fucking great, spectacular even! I drop my hands by my sides. “What the fuck is your problem Shikamaru, you have everything you’ve ever wanted- needed! Why can’t you just let me be!” I didn’t realize I was screaming until I finished and I just felt embarrassed. All I knew is that I didn’t want the whole village witnessing a screaming match between me and my ex boyfriend. I shake my head as I turn to walk away, done with the conversation when I heard his laughter. What was so fucking funny?

“Everything I wanted? Is that a fucking joke? All I fucking wanted was you!” He hisses at me. What? I whip around, he had officially lost his damn mind if thought he could make comments to me like that after what he pulled. “Don’t you dare fucking patronize me Shikamaru!” I say, trying to keep my voice low. He went on that mission, he’s the one who admitted he had feelings for Temari. “I let you go because I knew you liked her, I gave you the opportunity to be happy!” I could hear my heart beat in my ears, I felt so much pressure in my head. “Why can’t you let me do the same.” I whispered.

“I never asked you to let me go, you made that decision for me.” He says softly. I shook my head, no- I’m not doing this with him. “Shikamaru, I’m not doing this with you, not today- not ever.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and came closer to me. “There you go, making decisions for us again.” He sighed out. Us? There was no us, he was sadly mistaken. I take a step back trying to put some distance between us. “Are you trying to say it was my fault Shikamaru?” I question him. I couldn’t believe what he was trying to pull here. I never asked you to let me go. it wasn’t too hard when he was starstuck over Temari. My eyes hardened when I got no response again. “You’re telling me that it’s my fault that I refused to be on the back-burner for your dream girl.” I whispered.

Oh give me a fucking break, she was perfect. Everything he wanted, they balanced each other- It wasn’t hard to see. “And who decided that? You?” I was taken back. Why the fuck is everything my fault now. “You came to that conclusion yourself.” I scoffed and shook my head. “No, you showed me that I was right when you came back from that mission making googly eyes at her!” He moved closer to me and I moved back once again, I could see his nostrils flare in response. “Nothing happened on that mission.” He insisted to me. “Yeah, but I knew we were on borrowed time the moment you left for it, Shikamaru.” 

He turns around putting his hands on his head and groaning. “That wasn’t true.” I cross my arms and shake my head. “But it was!” I shriek. He turns back to me. “You let your fucking insecurities cloud your judgement!” Excuse me? I was shocked. Did he just... “Did you just fucking call me insecure?” I growled at him. He let out a bitter laugh “See? There you fucking go again. You know that’s not what I meant.” He pauses and finally looks over me, eyes lingering on every detail of my face. “Yeah I had a childhood crush on Temari, everyone in the village knew it! She was my first crush, but that’s what it was- a crush. Stop comparing yourself to her.” 

“There isn’t much to compare.” I start “She’s older, beautiful- she’s perfect for you. More of your speed.” I could see him visibly stiffen. “Stop making decisions for me.” He says again through his teeth. “Stop acting like it was hard for you! And you want to talk about making decisions for people? You won’t let me go on any missions!” I argue back with him. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Listen- Shikamaru, I can’t do this with you. I’m going home, goodnight.” I plead with him to just let me go home, I was tired and I wanted to sleep for a week straight. He looked like he was panicking. “Wait- let me walk you home. It’s late out a-” I cut him off, holding my hand up. “You may not think I’m capable enough to do any missions, but I’m damn sure capable of walking myself home.”

He looked down at me with his brows furrowed. “You know that Temari and I aren’t together, right? We were never together! I meant everything I ever said to you. I don’t know where you gathered this Idea that you weren’t good enough for me, but It needs to stop before we’re ruined for good.” He finishes grabbing my hand. I was appalled. Ruined for good.. and he keeps speaking like we’re in a relationship- gosh he was giving me a headache. What did their relationship not working out have to do with me? “So what? you don’t get your dream girl and it’s my fault?” He drops my hands groaning and cursing under his breath, dragging his hands down his face again. 

“What don’t you understand?” He lets out a breathless laugh. “You are my fucking dream girl, (Y/N).”

I was frozen in place, his words running around in my head. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. “You keep talking about borrowed time.. how could my time be borrowed when It was all yours to begin with?” I shake my head, immediately trying to dismiss the admission- no. I didn’t want to do this. But he persisted. “Don’t- don’t do that, It’s true. For once, let me speak my truth to you, just listen to me! I never lied to you.” My head was all fuzzy as he looked at me waiting for an answer. 

“I want to go home now. please.” I croaked out. He stood still for a moment before looking down and nodding. “Let me walk you home, please?” I finally gave in just wanting to be home and nodded my head. I let him take my hand and lead the way. The long way of course.

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We walked hand in hand through the streets, the few people still out and about paying us little to no mind. I welcomed the silence as I thought to myself. Did I push them together because of my insecurities? I sneak a glance at Shikamaru, he was staring straight ahead undeniably lost in his own thoughts. A relationship is supposed to be a two way street, one person didn’t get to make all the decisions and look what I did. I was abruptly thrown out of my thoughts when Shikamaru came to a sudden stop.

“I’m sorry for taking you off those missions.” He apologizes to me, angling his head down at me. I don’t respond, I didn’t know what to say. After the ending of our last conversation, I was still speechless. “I just always thought we’d go on the first one together, like we talked about.” He let out a low laugh. “You know, when I found out you were being promoted, there was this small bit of hope inside me that you’d come to me first.” He shakes his head. “It was stupid, but I was bitter. I wanted to be happy for you, but when I saw you walking by my house that night, I was distraught.”

“I wanted you.” I couldn’t control my outburst. He looked at me with widened eyes, surprised. It was too late to take it back so I continued. “I was out with the girls and all I could think about was how I just... wanted you there, just like we talked about.” I admitted to him. I was somewhat embarrassed to have my heart on my sleeve like this. “So.. where do we go from here.” He questioned me. I pondered it, looking into his eyes. He was asking me?

“I thought you you didn’t want me making decisions for you, Shikamaru?” I teased. He chuckles at my response bringing my hand to his lips. “Then let me make a decision for you this time. Let’s get back together.” He insisted. This was all too much. “It’s that easy?” I asked him hesitantly. He quickly nodded at me. “You’re always an easy choice for me.” he assures me. Now I really was confused. I stand still for a moment before sticking my hand out to him.

“Friends.”

“Friends?” He repeats to me, a puzzled look on his face. I smile and nod my head at him. “Friends.” I repeated to him, pushing my hand towards him, waiting for him to shake it. He takes my hand hesitantly and shakes it giving me a tight lipped smile.

“Friends.”

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Helloooo a little sequel to the Drivers license piece I put out a little bit ago. Might have another part left in me.

Master list

Until Next Time! xxo (▰∀◕)ﾉ

[kenmasgameboy]

chapter 18: my girlfriend.

previous…next

masterlist

kuroo tetsurou came into y/n’s life when she needed him to fuck it up the most.

a/n: this chapter is an intense one, i put the trigger warnings that i could think of below. if i ever miss anything please feel free to send me a dm or an ask, i’m also always looking forward to your guys’ comments and asks, please don’t forget that i always read them. i want this to be a safe place for everyone :)

trigger warning: bullying, cursing/vulgar language, and violence (smacking, stepping and spitting). anxiety.

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Your book is dripping wet, the pages turned to a fragile paste and falling apart at the touch. Your hair was wet, buckets of water had been prepared just for you. In your honor, four older girls had decided to go out of their way to prepare a bucket of water to dump all over your head.

“What did we tell you?” Their leader, Yui, kicked you in the stomach. “I thought we were very clear yesterday that you cannot talk to Kuroo-san.”

“And then you walked home with him!” One of the other girls spoke, but at this point their voices meshed together in your head. You tried staring at a paint chip on the ground to try and keep your cool.

I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry.

Your face was pulled off the rough pavement to face Yui’s face by your hair. The beautiful girl holds a fistfuls of your hair and you can get a good look at her this way. She really was gorgeous, she had long hair that was dyed a beautiful blond. You could hardly tell her bright blue contacts weren’t real since they fit into her soft features so well. Her makeup was nothing short of flawless, blending perfectly into her skin that made her look effortlessly beautiful. She looked like an idol, an angel in stood front of you, it was a striking contrast to her harsh words she’s given you over the last week.

“And now he posted about you, too! I told you that Kuroo-kun was mine. I should’ve said something weeks ago when I saw him talk to you here.” Yui stomped her foot, “Don’t you dare lie either, I saw him at your shoe locker this morning.”

“I’m not going to lie.” You said, your voice coming out much quieter than you thought. It was cold outside, and your clothes were wet. You didn’t even want to think about your white shirt.

“Good girl.” Yui smiled, “Now let’s talk about arrangements. Since you obviously didn’t listen yesterday. And I’m what they’d call Kuroo-kun’s guardian angel. I’ve always protected him from skanky bitches like you, who aren’t interested in Kuroo-kun for anything beyond what he can do for you. It’s not my first time, and it won’t be my last either. I love Kuroo-kun more than any of you and I’ve been at this a lot longer than you.”

What the hell is wrong with you?

You were cursing at her in your head, every bit of anger poured from your veins and forced you to clench your fist. This girl was pissing you off to no end, nobody was around at this point. Your fear of shyness being easily overwhelmed by the anger of being controlled.

A part of you selfishly wished that Inuoka or Kuroo would enter this scene right now and intervene. But they couldn’t fix this for you. They weren’t always going to be with you. And you weren’t someone who was going to be smacked around by these girls anymore. This girl must’ve been the one that started those rumors about you that forced Kuroo to intervene for you. You didn’t want anyone to have to do that for you.

“Kuroo-san would never like a girl like you.” You said. You would be proud to know your face never wavered as you spoke. Your voice had only a slight shake, the only tell being the shakes of your hand. Every word granted you a half ounce more of confidence.

“Do you want to say that again, dog?” She stepped on your hand with her foot, all her spite being aimed at you.

“What? I told you I wasn’t going to lie.” You kept your face plain. She spit in it and threw you down. You wiped the disgusting vile away with the back of your hand.

“Keep talking! See what happens.” This was a bet you’re willing to take.

“You’re a very pretty girl. But you’re mean, petty, vengeful, controlling and most of all an idiot if you think I can control how Kuroo-san feels. It’s not my fault he likes me. And if you really liked him, you should want him to be happy, but instead you try to block him off from anything that’d do that.” You said it all while she hardly listened, yawning as you spoke. 

“Are you done?” She asked, you groaned in response. God she was so annoying.

She smacked you.

“You’re going to act like you know him after a few weeks? I’ve been in love with him for three years. He always has doted on me before you got here, he tutored me, gave me parts of his lunch, and he even gave me his jacket when I forgot my umbrella. Every third year girl knows that he’s mine. He’s too mature for younger girls like you, especially ones with their head in the clouds and nose in a book. You don’t even interact with anyone! What’s so good about you! Nothing! So don’t you dare try to act like you’re better than me!” She said her own speech, ending it with pushing her foot down on your thigh. Your knee scratching against the pavement.

“Kuroo-san isn’t a thing you can own..” It was taking everything in you not to cry, you’ve always had a hard time when people yell at you. But the part of you that wanted to defy authority was still winning at the moment.

“God! You’re so annoying. Just listen to me and break up with him so he can love me already! I’m tired of waiting!” Yui was yelling, you were starting to hear voices in the windows behind you crowding over. Your eyes drifted down, your shirt was totally see-through. This was so embarrassing.

You put your arms over your chest to protect yourself. You scolded yourself for not bringing out your jacket.

“No.” You said, strong and out-front.

“I think this is the most this girl has ever spoken..” 

“Normally she’s such a crybaby..”

You heard everything anyone was saying around you. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. None of those people knew you.

“You insolent little bitch–”

“Oh? Big word there, did that make you feel like an adult? You read that one in a book?” You were completely unfiltered at this point. None of it mattered to you. Your clothes were wet, your hair was frazzled, your knees scraped and your face spit on. If there was one thing you could do to protect yourself it was your mouth. You had to.

“Shut up! Be thankful your senpai hasn’t ruined your life. Just let him go! You don’t even like him!” She was really fuming, there may as well be smoke coming out of her ears. “I can tell you’re scared, just agree so we can finish this.”

“That’s not true.” You said, your face blushing as the first sign of emotion this whole time.

“Oh, look, she’s blushing.”

“She’s actually so cute.”

“Gah! I hate you!” Yui raises her hand again, the only interruption being the heavy metal door to the courtyard being opened. 

“Stop, stop! Yui, what the fuck are you doing!?” Kuroo, the man of the hour, ran into the courtyard and immediately stripping his blazer off. 

“Kuroo-kun! I’m so glad your here, she was being so mean to us! I was just–” It was Yui’s turn to panic. Her voice quivered as she quickly mustered up tears to fake.

“You think I’m going to believe that when she looks like this?” Kuroo quickly wrapped you in his blazer, the large fabric covering you. His warmth flew threw you as he helped you to your feet and held you into his chest protectively. Your cold skin stealing Kuroo’s warmth. You hadn’t really realized how cold you were.

“I heard you had a volleyball meeting today–”

“After school. Even if I did, did you think I wouldn’t come running after I hear about my girlfriend getting bullied?” Kuroo said, his hand wrapping around your head. Your face was hidden, but he could feel you gasp for breath. The emotions you had been trying to hid getting lost in his chest, your stiff fingers gripped the fabric of his sweater vest. Kuroo’s large palm straightened them against his chest, warming them. “God, she’s freezing.”

“Girlfriend?” Yui was really crying now.

“Yes. Y/N is my girlfriend, and if anyone has a problem with this from now on bring that to me.” Kuroo’s deep voice boomed through the courtyard, it was a warning.

“You can’t be serious! It’s only been a few weeks, you’ll just drop her anyways in a few days right?” Yui had never been caught by Kuroo before, whenever a new girl would try to get close to Kuroo he’d never really minded if they lost touch after a few days. But you were someone he sought out, and tried so hard to figure out, he would never let it go that easy.

“Even if it did, you have no right to do any of this. But I’ll be with Y/N as long as she lets me, because I have deep feelings for her. I don’t expect you to understand but neither of us would ever throw the other away so easily as you’re saying. So leave us the fuck alone.” You had never seen him so angry before. But still he was so delicate to you, lowering his head to your ear to whisper a soft: “Are you ok? You did awesome, but this is over now. Let’s get you to the infirmary.”

“I’m sorry.” You said, but it was muffled by his shirt. His chest was so warm and firm, it made you somewhat sad to lose the warmth when he pulled away for only a second.

“Yui, I’m sorry I can’t return your feelings. If I had known you’d feel that way, I would’ve been able to end this sooner. But don’t worry, I won’t be going out of my way for you in the future to avoid any misunderstandings.... I’m going to take her to the infirmary, and I’m telling the nurse everything that happened here.” Kuroo held a strong frame, you winced when you took a step. 

Your knee stung from the blood running down your leg. Kuroo didn’t want you to be here any longer than you needed to be, so he latched his palms under your knee and threw your arm over his shoulder. Bridal style he held you in his arms, girls squealed behind you. Your face practically being glued to his shoulder to hide your embarrassment.

The moment you were back inside you felt warmer. You squeezed him tighter to yourself. You were so afraid, allowing yourself to so easily be weak in front of him.

“W–wait.. Kuroo..” You were letting tears fall. He rolled you in his arms to better hold you there. Your hair smelled like a morning rainfall, you were so cold.

“Not yet. We’re not alone.” He said.

The rest of the time you spent in his arms was silent. And when he got you to the infirmary he was ushered to go back to his class since the bell rang.

“Please, she’s my girlfriend. Can I please stay with her?” You could hear him beg the nurse on the otherside of the curtain from where you were changing out of your wet clothes.

It made you smile, you didn’t know a title like this would make you smile. He never asked you, but he sure got comfortable with it really fast. Maybe it wasn’t real though, you tried to slow your heart beat from beating out of your chest at the thought.

“I’m sorry but school comes first. You can come see her later. She’ll be fine.” The nurse assured him. You peaked your head out from behind the curtain.

“Thank you.” You mouthed it to him and it seemed he understood.

Kuroo didn’t seem pleased, but he still nodded. He bowed to the nurse quickly before exiting. Once on the other side of the door he looked at his hands, his sleeves were still wet from where he held you in his arms. He was chilly from losing his blazer that was now with you. The view he had of the top of your head being forcibly pushed into his chest. His chest still tingled from the imprint of your face.

“Kuroo Tetsuro, you’re awful for thinking like this..” he scolded himself. He just had to pull you out of a situation that he caused, it was because of him that they were bullying you. He needed to apologize properly, but his mind couldn’t help but melt at how close you were to him. How it seemed you invited him to be closer. This 6’3” boy reduced to a crumbled, blushing mess as he squatted next to the infirmary door.

Girlfriend.

Wait.

“She’s my girlfriend....” Kuroo remembered saying that in front of everyone, “Did I... say that out loud?..”

Both his hands were used to smack himself. His face didn’t react from the shock, eyes still wide with two hand prints leftover on his cheeks. He didn’t even ask you to be his girlfriend! What had gotten into him! Even in the heat of the moment, he should have taken at least one second to ask and then ask properly later. No, that would’ve looked suspicious. How rude of him to ignore your feelings like that and announce it in front of everyone without your permission.

I’ve been so good at asking her for everything up until now. What if she’s scared of me again? No, if she wants me to I’ll start at stage 1... Maybe Yamamoto was right, I really am a simp for her..

He thought, a small smile still on his face. He was okay with that. You were so strong out there. He only caught a few moments but watching you talk back all on your own was inspiring. You could defend yourself, any normal person would’ve let it go but Yui was a different breed that Kuroo knew too well. Watching you speak so boldly was a treasure that would live in his mind, the last domino of hearing your voice say “That’s not true.” to protext your feelings for him. But that was all he was able to catch of the conversation since he couldn’t stand there knowing that your hand wasn’t shaking from the cold.

Does she really have feelings for me? Is it true? If I would’ve asked.. would she have.. his thoughts stopped abruptly as he looked to his right at the infirmary where you stayed. What were you thinking right now? Were the thoughts you had as embarrassing as his? An image of you popped in his head, probably not. His chest was so tight and warm and the thought. He can’t think like this in the situation you’re in. He should’ve tried to stay in there longer, but maybe any longer and he would’ve burst.

He looked back at his arms, the ones he held you in. The water has dried now, ang trace that you were in them was gone. He really missed that feeling. If it were up to him right now, you’d never walk again so you could always stay in his arms.

Girlfriend..

He’d have to apologize later for overstepping his boundaries and explain later but... he’d never apologize about how it felt far too natural to say.

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+ to be added please send an ASK.

[telli1206]

The Heart Will Follow (Ch. 3)

Jay’s never had a crush...until he met Carlos. And now he can’t stay away.

Carlos doesn’t know what to make of Jay’s presence, yet. But what should he do, exactly, about a boy that’s both cute AND terrifying?

A collection of Jaylos isle meetings, inspired by this beautiful headcanon I came across randomly that I can’t get out of my head. 

AO3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3: Forever In Your Mind

“So...he just...left?”

Carlos bites his lip and lets his gaze drop to his lap. He’ll look anywhere to avoid Evie’s concentrated stare right now. He can hear the concern in her voice, but it feels too new, too...unsettling, to have someone care about his safety. He’s just not used to that. At all.

“I wonder why...” he hears Evie mutter to herself, and he looks up to catch sight of her furrowed brow and lips pursed tightly in thought. When she glances up and sees Carlos watching her, her eyes immediately soften, and she places a hand over his, flashing a warm smile to try to reassure him.

“Jay is so weird sometimes,” she muses, shaking her head. “Who knows why he was out there. The important thing is, he left you alone. Right?”

“I guess,” Carlos agrees, heaving a sigh. He decides against telling Evie exactly why Jay said he had chosen to leave him alone. He couldn’t really explain what Jay had said, honestly. Why would he give a shit about how Carlos’ mom would react? And his...eyes? Yeah, he definitely didn’t need to upset Evie any further with more of Jay’s weird comments.

“I-I didn’t get the impression that he’d try to steal from me again,” he offers, and quirks a smile when Evie beams back at him. 

“Good! So let’s not waste another second then talking about that...that skeezy thief,” she huffs, and shifts her focus back to her open textbook. She flips through a few pages before noticing how Carlos has stilled, and is now sitting stiff and unmoving beside her. There’s a look of distress on his face, and his cheeks are blooming the brightest pink color. 

“Ok. Something else is wrong. What is it?” Evie demands, and Carlos squeaks quietly at the forcefulness in her tone. He’s biting his tongue, but Evie can see the way his eyes are continuously darting to the door and back.

“No! Carlos, tell me you don’t. You don’t need to...” She pinches her nose, sighing in frustration at the way Carlos shifts in his seat, his hands pressed firmly into his lap. “You didn’t go before class started??”

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t have to! I swear. It...it just came up all of a sudden.”

Carlos can feel the guilt pooling in his gut already. He didn’t want to ignore all the help Evie had given him, all the advice that she had gathered to survive Dragon Hall.

Initially, Carlos had no regrets about the cup of coffee he drank this morning. More like the exact opposite - he was grateful. 

Cruella had thrown a full mug at his head as he was trying to leave for school, which wasn’t unusual. Even though she had agreed to let him attend classes in exchange for extra chores after school and on the weekends, his departure every morning was a painful reminder to her of the chores that wouldn’t get done until later, including her breakfast dishes.

What WAS unusual about this morning, however, was that Carlos had managed to catch the mug this time without barely a spill of the scalding tar black coffee that it contained. With his mother already stomping out of the room in a fit of angry rambles to no one but herself, Carlos had taken full advantage of the hot liquid, flooding his belly and providing some satiation and warmth against the chill of the morning air.

It wasn’t until now, when the drink had caught up to his system, did the heeding of Evie’s number one warning cause him a tinge of remorse.

“Y-you’re going to have to hold it Carlos!” Evie hissed, her voice shrill with fear. “I wasn’t lying when I said that leaving class ALONE is a suicide mission!”

Carlos tries his best to settle his squirming. He crosses his ankles tightly, keeping his hands pressed firmly down to help ignore the feeling building inside. But the pressure is just too intense to ignore. He looks up at Evie just as the tears start to well in his eyes.

“Shit, FINE,” she groans, smacking her hand to her forehead. “Listen to me, ok? If you’re going to do this, there’s only one way to go.”

-----

Carlos shuffles quickly down the hall, trying his best to be quiet. Evie’s directions were very specific, and he plans to follow them perfectly. The little pangs of regret he feels for upsetting his new friend, his only friend, are still fresh, and he has no intention of hurting her like that again. Not after all she’s done for Carlos already.

“Take a right - you’ll walk past three classrooms and a bathroom. Walk past the bathroom. Do NOT use that one, Carlos. Ok? Keep walking. Promise me you’ll keep walking.”

He squeezes his eyes closed and scoots past the bathroom as promised, despite his borderline painful need to go right now. He’s not going to make it much longer, and he starts looking around at all the isolated doorways, contemplating the option of relieving himself there if he can’t manage to find the very specific bathroom Evie told him he absolutely had to use.

Luckily, he spots it just a few feet away on the other side of the hallway, exactly where Evie said it would be. He breathes a short sigh of relief as he darts across and slips through the door.  

At first glance, the bathroom looks and sounds empty. But he knows better than to trust his senses completely. So Carlos takes a quick scan of each corner and stall to confirm that he is, indeed, alone before sliding into the last stall closest to the window and locking the door behind him.

Carlos completely forgets the world around him then, lost in the exhiliration of finally being able to relieve himself. He’s had to pee for so long he can’t even stop the happy groan that escapes his lips, the pressure inside immediately gone in that blissful moment. He’s so focused on that pleasant feeling that he almost...almost...doesn’t hear the soft creaking of the bathroom door opening.

It’s a slow sound, just barely audible, but he manages to catch it anyway, the years of constant need to remain alert and attentive now on his side. He  sucks in his breath and forces himself to stop his stream, wincing in pain at the involuntary pause. He hops onto the toilet seat ledge nimbly and balances there, remaning motionless, quiet, and with his ears piqued to listen.

The door closes with a soft scrape along the damaged linoleum floor, followed closely by the pad of slow, deliberate footsteps. They pause for a moment at each stall as they move along, clearly looking for something. Or someone.

When they make a stop in front of Carlos’ stall, his muscles tense uncomfortably to make himself be as still as possible. He squeezes his eyes shut and silently wishes for whoever’s on the other side to leave him alone.

But instead, the feet step closer to him, and he hears a dry chuckle.

“Come out, come out wherever you are!” Jay sing-songs. “I know you’re in there, De Vil.”

Evil, poor Evie’s going to hate him for this.

Carlos lets out a breath and drops to the ground with a loud stomp. No point in being quiet now is there?

“Fine, fine! You caught me, ok? Just, let me finish pissing and I’ll come out. I’m almost done.”

“Aw, I interrupted your pee pee break??” Jay teases. “Sorry, pup! By all means, continue.”

Carlos rolls his eyes as he turns back to the toilet. Word travels fast at this school, and his mother’s transgressions were the talk of Dragon Hall within a day of his arrival. The puppy jokes and nicknames that have already started are beyond annoying, but there’s not much he can do about it.

He’s focused on finishing now, trying to hurry himself so Jay doesn’t have time to entertain the idea of breaking in the stall. But only a second later he can hear the lock jostling, making him jump a little and drop his aim. He curses at the pee trickling on his feet, shaking off and hurriedly tucking himself in just as Jay frees the latch and pushes the door open. 

Carlos is met with a wicked smirk, which Jay immediately drops to a frown when he spots Carlos fumbling the button of his shorts closed.

“Boo, you’re no fun,” he mumbles, sauntering closer. Carlos stumbles back, slamming the backs of his knees into the porcelain bowl of the toilet and causing him to arch awkwardly. He turns his body and catches himself on the tank before he can fall farther, taking the opportunity to flick the handle and flush before he launches himself back.

“Hey there!” Jay snorts, grabbing Carlos around the waist and pulling him close when Carlos’ body lands against him. The boy is quick to twist and squirm, freeing himself from the thief and lunging for the door. Jay is faster though, and slams the stall shut with one hand before Carlos can escape.

“Come now, C, did I say it was time for us to leave??” Jay tuts. Carlos presses his face against the stall door, biting his lip hard to avoid a snappy retort. He’s at Jay’s mercy in this stall, and doubts he’ll be a fair match against the boy’s muscles, rippling obviously from the cutoff sleeves of his vest.

A surprisingly gentle hand cups under Carlos’ chin, guiding his face away from the door. Reluctantly, he follows it, until his body is turned and fully facing Jay. His face is tipped upward to meet Jay’s smile, which seems less menacing but somehow still cocky and triumphant. Carlos can’t fight the sneer on his own lips, which only prompts more laughter from Jay.

“Ohhh, someone’s a little fiery, huh De Vil? You’ve got some balls, considering you’re the one invading my bathroom without my permission.” 

Carlos perks a brow, glaring questioningly at the brunette. “Your bathroom? I-I ...really? Ev-I mean, nobody, told me that.”

Jay shakes his head at that, and releases his grip on Carlos’ chin, letting his fingers drop to tease along his jawline instead. Carlos holds his breath at the gentle sensation, pushing himself into the door with enough force that he can feel the latch digging into his back. It’s painful, but if it’s the only way to spare some space between him and Jay, he’ll take what he can get.

“Guess that’s lesson one then, pup,” Jay taunts, fingers still lightly caressing Carlos’ face. “The halls are mine when class is in session. You got that?” Carlos musters a short nod. “Good. And that includes any place there’s not a teacher. You need to use the bathroom? Grab stuff from a storage closet? Or even just hide out in there, you gotta pay the toll.”

“T-toll?” 

Jay still feels too close, so Carlos tries to shift back more, which only produces a sharp pain when the latch scrapes him harshly again. He’s grateful for the distraction, though, when Jay dips in closer and grins wide.

“Yep. Everyone’s gotta pay up. No exceptions.”

Carlos stares at Jay for a moment, but feels uneasy when the boy is more than happy to stare back at him, their noses close and practically touching. He swallows thickly then, letting his gaze fall to the floor between them as he carefully sorts his words.

“I-I...but...Jay. Y-you know. I already told...” he looks up for a second and catches a glance at Jay’s now audacious smirk. And that makes him seethe.

“You know I don’t have anything,” Carlos states flatly, feeling a new surge of confidence. “I already told you. My mom’s a bitch, I barely get food and clothes. You think I have shit to spare for you?”

He shrinks back after his bold outburst, waiting for Jay’s response. But the thief doesn’t move, and his smirk doesn’t fade. He does take a generous step back though, allowing almost an arm’s length between him and Carlos. Carlos relaxes slightly at that, breathing a soft sigh of relief when he’s able to free his back from the painful latch. But even with the space between them now, Jay’s eyes never leave his. Carlos hasn’t even seen him blink! And the lingering stare is making him shiver.

“Well, not all tolls have to be cash and stuff, do they?” Jay retorts, licking his lips a little. “I’ve accepted, other...forms of payment. But you know that, don’t you? Smart guy like you. I know you’ve heard the rumors.”

Carlos swallows again, his mouth feeling horribly dry all of a sudden. He has heard the rumors. How could he not? Jay and Mal are the big bads of the school. There’s plenty of stories being passed around by everyone, mostly pointing out the best ways to avoid bodily harm at the hands of the two of them. And while he has heard that both are mostly appeased by money or things to hock for money, the entire student body is also aware of Jay’s willingness to trade, physical pleasures, as well. Though Evie had made it clear that it’s usually girls that makes those kind of offers, the kind that Jay is happy to accept, Carlos can’t help but wonder if that’s what Jay’s implying right now. Because the way he looks at him, and the constant lazy scans of his eyes up and down Carlos’ body, are giving him pause. 

Can Jay be asking for that? From Carlos? That seems...impossible.

But then Jay leans back in, bracing an arm above Carlos with a brow cocked and a suggestive curl to his lips, and Carlos thinks it might actually be entirely possible.

“I think you know what I’m thinking.” Jay interrupts Carlos’ thoughts with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Up to you, pup. You barged into my bathroom and used my stall. Now, how are you going to make that up to me, hm?”

Carlos chews on his lip, refusing to dare a look at Jay. He’s not sure what to say if he did, so he keeps his eyes trained on his fingers, tangling and untangling them together while he thinks. 

Fuck, he really should have listened to Evie.

Both boys are distracted then by the slam! of the bathroom door and irritably loud clacks across the linoleum.

“Carlos?? Are you in here??”

Evie! Carlos bites back a smile.

“Ev-mmph!”

A hand claps over his mouth, with Jay’s eyes wide and glaring at him. Carlos squirms, twisting away from Jay’s hand and wriggling along the stall door in the process. Then they hear an audible sigh, followed by a few slower clicks forward.

“Carlos, I know you’re in there.”

He wants to answer, but Jay keeps his hand in place, putting a finger to his own lips to silence Carlos.

“Jay, I know you’re in there, too.”

Jay grits his teeth and rolls his eyes as Evie raps harshly on the door.

“Come on, boys. Do you think I can’t see your feet? Stop wasting my time and open up.”

Jay grumbles, dropping his hand from Carlos’ mouth and giving him the chance to scurry away from the door. Jay tries to reach for him again but Carlos slides back quickly, jamming himself behind the toilet and against the cement wall to avoid Jay’s grasp.

“Well fuck,” Jay grunts, giving Carlos a frustrated glare. At that moment they here the latch click, and Jay steps back just in time to avoid the door swinging open.

“Boys,” Evie scolds, her eyes stern as they dart between Jay and Carlos, before finally settling on the dark haired boy in front of her.

“And what do you think you’re doing, Jay?” she scolds, crossing her arms as she glares coldly at him. “You know you don’t belong in here.”

“Calm down, Blue,” Jay snickers. “You know damn well I go wherever I want. Besides, you’re the one in the men’s room, aren’t you? Last time I checked, you weren’t properly...equipped, to come in here.”

He glares back at her, a proud smirk splayed on his lips. But Evie doesn’t falter, stepping forward instead and marching her way slowly towards the other boy in the corner.

“As if I’d ever want to use a men’s room anyway,” she snaps back, reaching a hand towards Carlos, He grabs it, intertwining their fingers with a relieved smile. Evie flashes a grin his way before returning to Jay with a disgusted sneer.

“And you’ve never seen what I’m equipped with, so don’t you dare try to go around talking about me like I would actually stoop to being one of your little fucktoys.”

She gives Carlos a gentle tug and he springs quickly away from the wall, following Evie’s lead to stand behind her, placing her between him and Jay.

“This bathroom is neutral territory and you know it.” Evie grits, leaning into Jay’s face. “You’re this close to doing your own chemistry homework,” she threatens with a pinch of her fingers. “I bet Jafar wouldn’t be too keen on you getting kicked out of school and losing all your marks here.”

Jay scoffs and looks away, but stays silent. Evie breaks into a smug grin, shoving Jay lightly in the chest. “So, Carlos and I are going to leave now, and you can find another form of payment elsewhere. Got it?”

She whips away before Jay can respond and struts out of the stall, dragging Carlos along behind her. They manage to reach the door before Jay stomps out after them.

“Hey! You wanna be a little bitch then we could just re-nig on our deal! What do you think of that? Just leave you to the fucking wolves at this school. Puppy, too,” he adds with a nod to Carlos. “You’ll get beat so bad the first week you’ll be begging for us again!”

Evie’s gaze softens, and she looks at Jay with a bit of pity before turning back to Carlos.

“Sweetie, go right out the door and wait for me, ok?” Evie asks gently, but Carlos’ brow is furrowed, and he looks confused.

“But-”

“Carlos, please? I’ll be right out. We just need to...talk. It’ll just take a minute.”

Carlos watches her for a moment, searching her face. She smiles brightly at him, and he finally nods and walks out into the hall and leaves them alone.

Evie gives an exasperated sigh. “Look,” she starts, and she reachs for Jay’s hand to give it a squeeze. His eyes widen in surprise at the gesture. “I’m going to let this slide, ok? I just...don’t think you’re thinking straight right now.”

Jay throws a heated glare at Evie as her lips twitch into a smirk. “You don’t think you’re being subtle, do you?” she chuckles, shaking her head. “Carlos may not see what’s going on, but he’s the only one that’s clueless, Jay.”

She drops his hand and takes a step back, reaching for the door handle. “He’s my friend,” she whispers, just loud enough for Jay to hear. “And I’m going to protect him, so just...don’t do anything you might regret.” 

Evie pulls the door open slightly and moves to leave, but pauses when she hears Jay snickering behind her.

“What, is that supposed to be some kind of threat?”

She glances up through the doorway and catches a glimpse of Carlos just outside. His eyes are wide with curiosity and worry, and Evie can’t stop herself from smiling.

“Take it however you want, Jay,” she quips over her shoulder. “I was only trying to give you some friendly advice.”

“We’re not friends,” he hisses through his teeth.

"Maybe we’re not,” Evie replies coldly, “But we’re not enemies, are we? Unless you want to change that? You know where to find me if you do,” she teases with a wiggle of her fingers.

“Bye for now, Jay-Jay.”

Evie giggles to herself as she walks out of the bathroom, ignoring the muffled roars coming from behind the now closed door and looping her arm through Carlos’ to pull him along.

“We can study at my house tonight, ok? I just need to see about fixing one little problem and then we can get going.”

[wandas-sunshine]

Free Falling

Summary: You’re nervous about Tony’s annual Christmas Ball, but Bucky is there to help ease your nerves, or maybe make them worse. Either way you’re happy to spend your time with him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1,690

Warnings: Minor alcohol mention, reader is pretty anxious

A/N: This doesn’t specify the reader’s gender, but the reader does wear a dress so I apologize if that ruins it for you guys. Let me know what you think! Happy holidays my dears

Tony Stark’s parties were legendary. His annual Christmas Ball was the event of the year. A live orchestra, the best chefs in the world, and decorations that probably cost more than your house. Or at least that’s what you’d heard. Even after years of working with the Avengers, you’d never gone to one. You received an invitation every year, and every year you’d stare at it, but never once did you attend. You just didn’t have the confidence, or a date. Fancy dance parties weren’t exactly your cup of tea. But this year there was a new variable being tossed into play.

You had just been given your invitation. The words were printed in swirling silver script that reminded you of freshly fallen snow. You were so focused on the looping print that you didn’t notice Steve joining you in the kitchen.

“Are you thinking of going?” He asked. You nearly jumped out of your skin, whirling around to look at him. He gave you a sheepish smile.

“Oh, um...yeah, maybe. I don’t know, it’s not really my thing.” You shrugged and put the invitation back on the table. Steve hummed and picked it up.

“Buck is going this year.” He stated. You bit your lip. To most anyone who had known you for any length of time, your feelings for Bucky were  common knowledge. The only person still in the dark about it was Bucky himself, and you were happy to keep it that way. “I think he’d like seeing you there.”

You wanted so badly to ask why he’d care if you were at Tony’s stupid ball anyway. Nevertheless, the promise of seeing him was enough to convince you to face your fears and RSVP.

The next issue came with trying to find something you could get away with wearing. One look at your wardrobe was enough to make it clear that formal situations were not your usual environment. So Natasha decided to take things into her own hands. She argued that you didn’t know how to dress yourself up properly.

One shopping spree later and she had you dressed to kill, though not literally for a change. Of course you were insecure, staring yourself down in the mirror and picking out all of the flaws and insecurities. You probably would have backed out if it wasn’t for how excited your friends were for you to finally join them.

So there you stood outside the looming doors with Steve by your side. You clung to his arm with trembling hands, just praying that your knees wouldn’t go weak when you tried to walk inside. He’d been awfully sweet when you’d asked him to stay with you for a moment. You hadn’t expected to be so terrified, but nearly all of the most influential people in the world were beyond those doors. You could hear the music, and the excited chatter on the other side.

“Maybe I should just go home,” You decided, smoothing your hands over the skirt of your dress. Steve’s hand rested against your shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on, you’re gonna have a good time.” He guided you gently through the doors.

The room was stunning, vaulted ceilings and wide open space. The bar was on the far end, and it was already crowded with people and lined with silver garland. The walls were lined with trees bigger than any you’d ever seen, all decorated in red and gold. There were shimmering silver snowflakes that looked like they were floating in midair. It was breathtaking really, more beautiful than any of the other parties Tony had thrown you were sure.

You didn’t get to admire the view for too long before you felt the familiar prickle at the back of your neck. You looked up to find several pairs of eyes on you, a few people even swapping whispered comments that you could only imagine were about the two of you standing there frozen at the entrance. You felt your stomach drop as the panic set in. You were no good at being the center of attention. You mentally scrutinized your appearance, but your attention was caught once again.

“Are you alright?” Your eyes snapped up, immediately meeting the steady gaze of one James Barnes. He looked like a model standing there. His black suit jacket covered his red vest and white undershirt. He’d tied his hair back into a bun at the base of his skull, and a few rebellious locks had fallen out into his face. You couldn’t help but think about how well the look suited him, what with the way it accentuated his stubble jawline.

“Everyone is looking over here,” You answered, your eyes drifting down to look at your overpriced shoes. He chuckled, and hearing that sound, you thought, may have been the closest to heaven you’d ever get.

“Let them look. You’re stunning.” The conviction in his voice made your chest fill with nerves until there was no room for your breath. You could have sworn that the floor had fallen out from beneath your feet. You were freefalling. You weren’t often on the receiving end of such compliments. Especially not from him. “Come on, everyone’s over by the bar,”

He offered your arm, and Steve gently pulled away from you. Even with your nerves, you knew it would be impolite to decline, so you rested your hand in the crook of his elbow. With two super soldiers flanking you, the crowd parted like the red sea. Unfortunately that also meant that a surprising amount of attention was turned to the person they were escorting. Everyone was looking at the three of you like you were royalty, but you were too preoccupied to notice, too distracted by Bucky.

When he left your side, you had found solace in the company of Sam and Natasha, both of whom looked stunning enough to make you a little insecure. Not that either of them were going to have any part of you talking badly about yourself. A few compliments later, and Bucky was back beside you, pressing a drink into your hand. You didn’t know what it was but you could use a little something to help you calm down. So you sipped it.

Once you had settled in with all of your friends things didn’t seem so terrible. But the whole time Bucky stayed glued to your side. You didn’t complain one bit. You were a couple of drinks in, joking with Wanda and Bucky until she was stolen away for a dance. Then there were two.

The two of you both fell quiet after only a moment. You sipped your drink and scanned the room. Everyone seemed to be having fun, but you were still pretty sure you stood out like a sore thumb.

“You need to stop thinking so much. Come on,” He took your drink out of your hand and set it down with yours. You quirked an eyebrow at him as he held his hand out for you. “Dance with me,”

You shook your head frantically. You were having enough trouble functioning just standing beside him. He still took your hand in his.

“Bucky, I don’t know how to dance.” You blurted out, pulling your hand from his even though you liked the way they fit so perfectly together.

“Don’t you trust me?” He took your hand again, this time more firmly so you wouldn’t pull it away again. “Just follow me lead,”

“I still don’t know about this,” You whined. Once he had led you to the floor, he carefully showed you what to do with your hands. With so many bodies closing in, you had no choice but to gravitate closer to him. He held you so gently, and the light scent of his cologne was dizzying. Lucky for you he had a hand pressed warm and firm against your lower back.

“You look like you’re gonna pass out,” He joked, leaning down to whisper directly into your ear. You shivered at the feeling of his breath tickling against your skin.

“I’m just nervous.” You laughed nervously at the confession. You hardly noticed how easily he was leading you to dance alongside the other couples on the floor. It was easy to follow his lead. You would, after all, follow him to the ends of the earth.

“Why are you nervous? You’re a natural,” He complimented, and you felt your body flush hot.

“It’s stupid,” You shook your head. The long silence between you told you clearly that he wasn’t letting you off the hook so easily. “I always get nervous around you,”

“Is that why you always avoid me?” He smirked, but there wasn’t the edge of disappointment or harsh amusement that you had expected from him. You nodded, your laugh fizzling into flustered giggles. This was pathetic. 

“When I’m around you it’s like my brain forgets how to work.” You confessed. You weren’t sure why you were spilling all your secrets to him, but once you started talking to him it was just so easy to keep going.

“You don’t seem to be having any trouble now.” He laughed, bright and bubbly like that thought alone made him happy. You wondered if that really did make him happy, but wasn’t that just wishful thinking?

“Really? Cuz I feel like I’m dying. Guess it just takes practice.” You were joking, sort of anyway, but Bucky grinned. He gave your waist a little squeeze and leaned down again, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered.

“Then you should spend more time with me. You should let me take you on a real date.” Your heart stuttered in your chest as his words sunk in. Maybe Christmas miracles were real, because Bucky Barnes being interested in you had to be thanks to some sort of holiday magic.

“Do you mean that?” You asked. He nodded a silent response, eyes locked with yours. “Yeah, yeah we should give that a go.”

That was the moment you finally admitted that maybe attending this stupid ball wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

[tetsuskitten]

Could u wrote some ochako/Kirishima/bakugou?? Love that dynamic

Hey there! Thank you so much for this request! I had a lot of fun with this, I hope you like it!

every day is ours by tetsuskitten (on ao3)

The journalists gathered at the front of the venue like menacing cockroaches, the camera-men threatening with their flashing lights, blinking and blinding. Katsuki felt sick already, stomach turning at the thought of having to squeeze through the mass of strange bodies, people he didn’t know touching him so easily. He fussed with his tie, trying to let up the knot so he could breath.

A soft hand came up to his cheek and he closed his eyes to breathe in the saccharine perfume that wafted through the enclosed air of the limousine. A quick kiss was laid on him, followed by a thumb, which he assumed was Ochako cleaning away the lipstick she had just painted him with.

“Katsuki.” He opened his eyes, looking exhausted beyond his years. “I’m going to remind you again. If you feel like leaving, just come find us if we’re not there. I won’t have a repeat of last time.”

“Katsuki!” Eijirou piped up excitedly. “Eri will probably be there! You’ve been whining non-stop about how you never get to see her anymore, right?” Katsuki grunted, but he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of seeing Eri, grown up, healthy and happy. Aizawa-sensei and Yamada-sensei had really done a wonderful job of taking care of her these past few years. He and Izuku tried to visit as often as they could, but work never relented, and their own family life could be busy and chaotic.

Ochako and Eijirou both planted twin kisses on his cheeks before exchanging a kiss of their own. Lovesick disasters, the three of them.

As they left the car to face the crowds, a wall of noise hit them like a tall wave rushing from the sea. Katsuki was incredibly tempted to turn off his hearing-aids but past experiences have taught him it would only work to further confusion.

A loud person announced their arrival with all the fake excitement of a football commentator.

“And here comes pro-hero Uraravity! Draped in a long pinkish gown with strikes of flaring red, she looks fabulous! Her trademark bob is adorned with striking white flowers, she is a sight for sore eyes in the red carpet tonight! And on her right pro-hero Dynamight wearing a tight-fitting burgundy suit that has all of us on our knees! On her left, pro-hero Red Riot proving that he can indeed get bigger! Look at all those muscles, people. He’s wearing a flashy red get-up, not unlike his hero suit. We love to see it!”

They posed and took pictures as they walked slowly to the entrance of the venue. Thankfully, these people had incredibly short attention spans. They waved at the newly-arrived Hitoshi, and Denki who pulled up to the curb a few seconds later. Those two had no idea what being discreet meant, or more likely, they don’t care that much if they’re found out or not.

Denki jumped on Hitoshi’s arm the second he was close enough and the other made no motion to shrug him off. Yeah, this would be all over Hero Weekly come tomorrow. Lovesick fools, the lot of them.

Blessedly inside, the noise fell to a bearable thrum. There was chatter and up-beat orchestra music, but nothing too shrill. Katsuki let himself relax into the constant of it, getting used to the surroundings, looking for their friends.

Ochako was immediately attacked by a horned-devil, Mina jumping on her the second she arrived.

“You look amazing, Ocha! What’s that shade of lipstick?! Come on, Tsuyu and Jiro are here already and we’re doing shots ! Ei and Bakugou are coming too!” Mina didn’t wait long for the boys to say no, knowing they would most likely deny her anyway, as she bounded away with Ochako, who laughed whole-heartedly at her friend’s antics.

“She’s as lively as always, isn’t she?” Ei commented, smiling at the disappearing pair.

“I already have enough of that with you two.”

“Oh c’mon, you know you miss them!”

“Yeah, whatever.” Katsuki was barely finished with his sentence before an ear-splitting “Bakugou nii-chan!” warned him of the incoming blast to his chest.

Eijirou caught him with ease as he was propelled backwards from the sheer force of Eri’s running embrace. She gave him a devious smile, all teeth and childish glee. “You’re getting weaker, Baku nii-chan… Do you need the big strong Red Riot to save you?” She joked.

“Oh you-” He started, before Eijirou grabbed her and easily hoisted her on his large shoulders.

“Don’t worry, Eri-chan, I’ll save you from the big bad Bakugou!” He said, winking at a glaring Katsuki.

“Ei nii-chan…” She called, wonder in her voice. “I can see everything from up here!” she bounced excitedly.

“Oh. Daddy’s coming this way.”

Eijirou pulled her down and smiled sheepishly as Aizawa arrived.

“And what trouble are you three getting up to?” The man drawled, slow and sleepy as always, eyelids half-closed in the harsh lighting of the venue.

“No trouble at all.” Eri offered, smiling and blinking innocently between the two heroes.

“I hear Kota has arrived.” Aizawa said slyly.

“Kota’s here?!” Eri’s red eyes opened wide and she bounced excitedly. “Let’s say hi, please?” She pleaded, as if Shouta denied her much in life. Her young eyes were bright and full of life, Shouta couldn’t help but give her a soft look in return and smile.

“Of course. Say goodbye to Bakugou and Kirishima.”

She turned around to hug them tightly and pointed in a very commanding tone. “Stay right here. I’ll be back.” And skidded away in a flurry of limbs, looking for her next target.

“She’s a handful.” Katsuki said, shaking his head with a fond look plastered on his face.

“Remind you of someone, does she?” That earned Eijirou a glare, but all he did was laugh it off.

“Come on, he’s probably already here too. Let’s find him.”

They pushed their way inside the ballroom, stopping for short greetings and snacks, until they found Izuku in a heated discussion with Ochako about… carpeting? Those two were definitely on their fourth round of drinks.

The night passed them by rather quickly, to Katsuki’s surprise. He even felt a little disappointed to go home. He didn’t get to see everyone together that often anymore, or outside of a fight, which really wasn’t quality bonding time as far as he was concerned.

Eijirou draped his jacket over Ochako’s shoulders before they stepped outside into the cold night air and she was safely cocooned in his arms, swaying only slightly and dozing off as she walked.

Katsuki opened the door for them and as soon as they were inside, Ochako nested herself between them, seeking heat and comfort. Katsuki pillowed her head on his thigh and pushed the disarrayed mess of brown locks from her eyes before placing a kiss on her temple. She snuggled closer, but didn’t otherwise acknowledge her surroundings.

When he looked up Eijirou was looking at them with that doe-eyed look he saved for moments he thought were truly manly .

She’s cute when she sleeps, Katsuki signed and Eijirou agreed.

When they pulled up to their home, Eijirou carried a sound-asleep Ochako up the stairs and into their bedroom. They took her gown off gently, trying their best not to disturb her too much, before letting her slip under the covers in her underwear.

Eijirou pulled the bedroom door half-closed and followed Katsuki to the kitchen, where he was already preparing a late night snack for them.

“Want some help?” Ei asked, arms wrapping around Katsuki’s smaller frame, warm hands slithering under his vest and undershirt.

“Make some tea. She won’t sleep for long.” He answered, letting his head fall back into the sturdy support of Ei’s chest. Eijirou snickered.

“I like you like this.”

“What? Tired out of my mind?”

Eijirou shook his head. “No. Just… peaceful.”

Katsuki snorted. “You sayin’ I’ve gone soft?”

Eijirou turned him around, hands automatically coming to rest on Katsuki’s small waist.

“The softest.” He said, stealing a long kiss from the blond before he could start protesting.

The pitter-patter of small feet on the floorboards pulled them out of their quiet late night intimacy.

Ochako walked up to them and practically fell into their embrace, sleep-rumpled, an enormous black shirt covering her frame.

“Feelin’ regret yet?” Katsuki fake-mocked, free hand running through the knots on her hair. Ochako groaned as a response.

“You know, baby, I think this dress looks much better on you than all that pink nonsense.” Eijirou told her, appreciating the way his shirt fell down her body, stopping mid-thigh. She pulled her head up enough to glare.

“That dress was expensive, Eijirou.” He hummed and grabbed her at the waist, earning a gasp before he lifted her up to sit on the wide kitchen island.

“Yes, but there was not even a glimpse of your beautiful legs.” He told her, big hands squeezing her strong thighs. “Though it did hug you perfectly here.” He gripped at her waist. “Here.” He smoothed a hand over her breasts.

Katsuki came up behind her, kissing the side of her neck and whispering. “Don’t listen to him, you looked fucking perfect, but I would have ripped that dress off you if I could’have.”

“Boys…” She warned weakly.

They paused and smiled at her, kissing her skin gently and helping her back down.

“We’re making tea and pancakes, go lay down on the couch, we’ll wake you up soon.” Katsuki told her, but she shook her head.

“I’ll stay here. Watch you cook.”

Katsuki placed one last lingering kiss on her lips before going back to mixing batter. Eijirou put the kettle on and prepared their tea before sitting down and pulling Ochako into his lap, fitting her between his legs.

They ate in silence, the only sounds heard throughout the house were the ever busy streets outside. Tomorrow was entirely theirs and there were hiking plans in motion, picnics on mountain-tops and rolling around in the dirt, swimming in the lakes. Today though, there was nothing more to do than give themselves up to sleep, huddled up together, bone-tired and satisfied, content after a night well spent.

[askmyboys]

I’d call these more, my own interpretations instead of just OCs

I’ll tell you how this happened tho, i was literally just comin back from a l o n g ass road trip listenin to the musical and my tired lil brain started thinkin bout these boys and i was like ...what if i just,, made my o w n versions of em? What if I just,, and then boom, out popped well, this-

| Names: Henry Jekyll and Edward Hyde

| Nicknames: Jekyll doesn’t much care for nicknames but Hyde calls him Jek, Hen or Hen-Hen, or Henny which he REALLY hates. For the other, it’s either Ed or just simply Hyde ...Jekyll has given him many ‘nicknames’ mostly they are hateful ones tbh.

| Genders: Henry goes by he/him and Hyde goes by he/him and it/its

| Ages: Unknown but they are both adults

| Heights: Jekyll is 5’7” and Hyde is like 6’6” for sure (even tho they inhabit the same body, fuck it, im makin the rules ..andchangingthemfromtheogthing but i say height changes when Hyde’s in control)

| Species/Races: Henry’s a human ofc and Hyde? Honestly, idk what this thing is, all i can tell you is he’s stinky

| Eye Colors: Jekyll’s eyes are a Baby Blue color and Hyde’s eyes are Blood Red (ooh e d g y man)

| Hair Colors: Jekyll’s hair is honestly a messy curly undercut and the color of it is a dark brown and he has gray on the sides meanwhile Hyde’s hair is Black and in a spiked quiff style and he also has gray on the sides

| Skin Colors/Body Types: Jek’s a BIT pale but Hyde’s a much more- his skin is definitely more so a Whitish Gray kinda color so it’s definitely more noticeable than Jek’s skin if you look close enough at that (things do have to change when a certain one is in control of the body, can’t be EXACTLY the same or else it might give away that their the same person hehe) and their body types don’t really change- Jek’s body type is skinny (nothing TOO bad ofc, just a tad bit) if Hyde had his own body he’d definitely be a more average kinda bulkier build.

| Appearances: Okay first things first- they both have circle beards EXCEPT Hyde’s is a LOT more scruffier (he also has thicker sideburns btw!) and a BIT more grown out than Jek’s which is trimmed a bit more and groomed perfectly.

Jekyll usually has the typical lab coat on and a baby blue turtleneck underneath it, he also has blue pants that he wears with it as well and some oxford shoes that match the outfit, he also wears circle glasses as well (they help him see a lot better p much whereas when Hyde’s in control he doesn't really need em actually) Henry has a GOOD amount of scars all over his body, whether it be by accident, inflicted on purpose, or something more… It’s partially why he keeps his turtleneck on mostly and the lab coat helps as well- he’s ashamed of the scars and he tries to hide them especially so no one will worry about him, also for some more minor details- he wears a black watch on his wrist as well (he has no piercings or nothin like that) that’s p much it for Jek tbh, his features are p much 100% human so uh yeye

Now onto Hyde’s outfit- And yes, keep in mind- he’s still kinda,, an entity or whatever the fuck he is inside Henry’s body essentially but he DOES change his clothes when going out- his main one for going out is usually a black cloak he wears around himself (the outfit underneath is a black suit vest with a long dark red tie (his shirt underneath the suit vest is a dark red long sleeved shirt), he also wears black pants, and dark red oxford shoes, and of course he’s got a black top hat on (the band on it is red, definitely keeping a black n red themed appearance here aint he?) (his other outfits, hm I can leave up to the imagination tbh this is just for when he’s travelling around and so other people don’t spot him nearly as easily, especially when it’s n i g h t t i m e…) he’ll wear whatever the fuck he wants, and it doesn’t have to be fancy in the s l i g h t e s t- he has a variety of options.

He also has pointed ears, razor sharp teeth (got them bear trap teeth but not only that, he’s got a lot more s e c r e t teefs than that ;) he’s a lot more monstrous on the inside than the outside i’ll say that much, Jek’s n Hyde’s anatomy does change and transform depending on who gains control ...honestly it probs hurt to have your body transform and shift like that ouchie) he also has multiple tongues, he has claws that he painted black and red for the a e s t h e t i c s ya know- and hell at this point he might as well have tentacles ...He might- but I mean if you really wanna know, fuck around and find out for yourself and fuck it- he also has a dark red devil style tail since he wanna act like fuckin Satan himself smh

...I made him a lot more monstrous than originally planned but eh its fitting- bc this is Jek’s body even with a LOT of changes in these regards, he’s got the same scars n such as that, he also wears black and red spiral gauges in his ears (I should also say, he can technically hide these features to make himself appear more human, i didnt originally intend on giving him any actual monstrous features except maybe sharp teeth, claws, n the pointed ears but here we are, he still gotta not arouse suspicion around him too much tho) also his eyes have dark circles around them, not because he’s a tired man he’s just a fucking- hellish bastard who loves to look intimidating.

| Personalities: Let’s uhh start off with Jekyll because he’s better and nicer and not nasty and gross n smelly looking- He’s kind, sweet, compassionate, caring, honestly wouldn’t hurt a fly himself- could never willingly hurt someone! A sweet babey man! He’s very intelligent- I mean,, he IS a Doctor after all, he takes pride in his work but it’s not that overbearing narcissistic type pride, he’s just proud of the breakthroughs he’s made ...Granted, there is one “breakthrough” he wished he could take back .. -glancing slowly at Hyde in the reflection of the mirror- ahem- but he’s always been pretty outgoing but a lot has changed since, that abomination came into his life, sure he still tries his best to be a good person, he tries his very damnedest to find some sorta way to separate or better yet a way to destroy this evil vile beast that plagues his and everyone else’s lives! He’d rather destroy Hyde than separate from him because even then, it's still back to square one only with worse damage since he’d be of his own free will now.

He shuts himself away in his Lab a LOT, as much as he can anyways to avoid going out and risking something more happening to anyone else, of course…

There is no avoiding the outside world forever, he needs things to eat and drink, he needs things to keep his body functioning and not to mention not going outside could drive him, well, more insane than he already feels he is- He just tries to be as quick as he can about it before the other takes control or tries to, Jek definitely has a lotta anxieties and fears, and ya know at this point I mean,, hell- the man’s got trauma- Sometimes he wonders if any of this is actually real, if he had just gone insane and was just imagining all this, sometimes his head hurt because of all the thoughts and potential scenarios along with their outcomes plagued his mind, he feels a lot of things he never thought he’d feel towards anyone, he feels anger and hatred toward Hyde but in a way aside from feeling so negatively toward the other, he can’t help but admire the way Hyde wishes to just simply l i v e, and even before this beast became apart of him… He was always anxious deep down and almost scared to take that jump when needed.

But Hyde? Hyde doesn’t seem to even c a r e! That thing lives it’s life without any care whatsoever, he doesn’t have any anxieties or fears at all it seems! In a way, Henry might even be a lil envious toward the other’s carefree attitude and that he’s free of anxieties and fears ...H-He still doesn’t want the other around, he still wishes to destroy Hyde of course, even with the envy and maybe a slight bit of admiration he has his morals and principals, and if Hyde continues to exist or w o r s e gets his own body it could prove v e r y perilous.

Now onto… Eugh, Hyde- The bastard man himself- He’s stinky- an evil bastard who really needs just a good punch in the face (god don't do it yourself tho, he’ll probs eat ur entire arm) Hyde’s absolutely disgusting, will do ANYTHING to get what he desires, he can be narcissistic in some regards, VERY prideful and greedy in many ways, he isn’t above committing murder like really, was he EVER above it? If he wanted, he’d literally murder you not even for a bag of corn chips but literally just one, psh- selling you to satan for one? Bah that’s amateur’s work! He’s somehow a minor inconvenience who can commit REALLY nasty and horrible atrocities at the same time if he feels like it, if he finds out something annoys you or REALLY pisses you off he’s going to keep doing it, he will literally try driving you insane just for the fun of it, really at this point it doesn’t seem like he HAS much of a goal but to just l i v e and cause chaos, destruction, and mayhem wherever he goes, he despises Jekyll in many ways, one being for trying to destroy him first and foremost but also Henny is just s o fucking weak, such a weak man with far too many anxieties, fears, etc- He’d be SO much better of a man if he’d simply let Hyde take control and STAY in control!

It’d make everything a lot easier, then Jek wouldn’t have to worry about ANYTHING ever again! No more of that pathetic nonsense! If it were possible, Hyde would absolutely l o v e to have his own body, separate from Jekyll, that way he could have his own life separate from that pathetic weakling’s! But… Even then, Jekyll and Hyde are one, in many ways they are absolutely apart of one another, two sides of the same coin, even with their MAJOR differences in personality and Hyde almost seeming like an entirely different entity just merely possessing Jekyll, after all, Hyde will admit it himself, he spawned from deep within Jekyll’s mind, he’s tried to get the other to see time and time again that he’s always been apart of the other deep down, Jek’s always had a more mad and evil side to him! Even if the other will deny this and take the denial to his grave, Hyde always persists in trying to get the other to see the truth in front of his eyes!

Aside from that tho, Hyde is just generally a dick and loves to mess with Jek and terrify him sometimes for literally no reason, hell he could be bored one day and decide “Hey Henny, fuck you, you suck” he loves to start drama, he loves to cause problems on purpose- Both of them would give anything to separate from each other, even if Hyde knows the truth deep down bout the both of them, even if he were always originally a part of Jekyll, it didn’t matter, that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to get his own body, away from that pathetic coward of a man!

| Side Facts: Jekyll rarely ever gets to relax or any free time, he’s too worried to give himself that in fear he’ll lose control, he’s almost CONSTANTLY fighting to keep control over the other, even though he knows it's physically impossible to do so, after all, he can’t stay awake forever, sure that doesn’t stop him from trying to stay awake as long as he can before his body practically forces him to pass out and he’s MUCH weaker than he used to be, I mean hell, given how long Jekyll seems to have been around, fighting SO much and almost EVERY single day has practically worn his body down but whenever there is an opportunity for any “free” time he usually spends it trying to figure out an antidote or a way to get rid of Hyde (I will say, before Hyde REALLY started doing bastardous n horrendous things, Jek would still get annoyed with him bc he was always that way but he actually, I’d say tolerated him more so than he does by now) and Hyde even- well, he still disliked Henry IMMENSELY so, but he definitely wasn’t as bad or as awful as he is to the other now, it was more so I tolerate you and we dont have to seriously fight or struggle with each other for control and back then Jek would even sometimes let Hyde have control.

But then… A serious incident (I wont name what exactly) but a serious incident that happened caused the two to absolutely despise each other (i didnt say up there, yes, Hyde absolutely despises Jekyll but there is some heavily hidden admiration in regards to the other’s determination, his persistence, and even somewhat of his creativity, Jekyll despite being an annoying nuisance in Hyde’s way, he does have some admirable things about him) but anyway- ever since that incident occurred, Jek has tried almost EVERYTHING he knew of to get rid of Hyde, even if separation from his body would still be bad bc that could mean Hyde would obtain his own body honestly? I believe Jekyll would still take that opportunity if he were given it, if he needed, he’d try and find someway to stop Hyde’s evil, maybe it’d be easier even if the other had his own body, he didn’t know, he just wishes he could be free from all this torment and agony like gosh damn give this man a b r e a k. Give him some fruit gummies and an appy juice carton and leave him be!

When Hyde is in control he wastes little time in finding things to do, being able to be out, to see the world, the world ripe for chaos and destruction, he wastes little time in getting straight to work with whatever his devious lil mind wants to think of- also for more monstrous purposes, back up there, I was p vague with the mention of teeth on his insides- p much teeth going down his throat and hell who knows, the bastard probably has teeth on the inside of his stomach at this rate- Another not so fun fact, this man can unhinge his jaw! Yaaay so u can see sharp teefs! ...He does have to kinda set his jaw back in place though bc god forbid Jek takes control then.

Smh imagine taking back control of your body only to have a fucking dislocated j a w wouldn’t that be hellish?

Hyde rarely ever does this for a few reasons- he only does it if he’s in the mood for just takin a big chomp outta someone (big chompy) just, just please- lock this thing away- or kill it, it's a menace to society and deserves nothing good- two more things btw, tbh I genuinely wasnt even considering inhuman features at first but ya know, I compromised- he has them he just chooses to hide them more often and speaking of, while Hyde says he’s always been apart of Jekyll (well this version I made anyway) that deep down their two sides of the same coin, can you really believe him? I mean, I’m not going to spoil it and tell ya anything in that regard, but who knows, who knows what Hyde REALLY is, whether or not he’s always been apart deep down inside of Jek or just some form of entity that spawned via that wonderful little formula.

And the final thing is, their voices are p much based on the musical ones' voices- Hyde’s is that deeper n raspier kinda voice while Jek’s is much softer and ya know POLITE sounding.

[calibancangetit]

The Final Witch’s Quarry (Part 1)

Chapter: Her Quarry

Pairings: Prince Caliban x Reader

Summary: (Y/N) finally finds a key to her revenge as well as finally meeting the one person she is destined to stop.

Notes: I JUST WANTED TO TELL YOU ALL HOW THANKFUL I AM FOR THE SUPPORT YOU HAVE SHOWN ME FOR THIS FIC! I really didn’t think it would do so well, but you all are really giving me so much love! Thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged as well as commented. It made me so happy. I’m going to start focusing on some imagines for you all as a gift. I got some ideas that I think you all will like. If you have any requests please feel free to ask. I haven’t decided if I’ll be doing any smut however, so please refrain from asking for that as of now. Thank you again! 

Prologue 

Hilda has had plenty of awkward experiences. She couldn’t count how many times she created tension so thick she wanted to just sink into the Earth and never come out. However, today was the first time she got to see that tension from an onlookers perspective.

You sat perfectly still in your seat at the Spellman’s dining room table. You were seated exactly centered at the table, where you had careful view of the entire kitchen as well as it’s occupants. Ambrose and Sabrina shifted in their seats uncomfortably as they both tried to make out the best thing to say. You let out a deep sigh as you crossed your arms; your annoyance raidiated off of you in waves.

A quick cough caught your attention as Hilda walked up to you with a tray of homemade cookies and tea.

“U-uh, it’s quite excellent to see Sabrina bring home some new friends-” your sharp glare made Hilda stumble on her words as she placed the tray in front of you-“or not. Um, where did you say you were from again, love?”

You eyed the woman beside you. She had a terrible habit of wringing her hands and patting her clothes down frequently; she also had this obsessive need to release uncomfortable chuckles to ease situations like the one you found yourself in now. It was amusing as well as agitating.

“Brooklyn.” you muttered as you lifted a cookie to your lips.

You sniffed it before taking the sweet between your teeth and savoring the oatmeal flavor. Your eyes met Hilda’s again as she watched you eat. You gulped down the cookie and let out a short awkward cough as you gave her a forced smile in order to aknowledge that you enjoyed it. She took your hint with a smile and ran off to the other side of the table to sit in and listen.

“So, um, (Y/N)?” Sabrina started as you crossed your arms again and gave her a harsh glare. “What I mainly need you to help me with is stopping Caliban.”

“What’s a Caliban?” You questioned with obvious boredom laced in your voice.

You could see Sabrina become more exasperated by your attitude as she tried to explain her plan. You listened on and off through her little presentation. You paid attention to certain key words within it like Prince of Hell, Tenth circle, etc., etc, yet your mind came to an abrupt stop when a certain competition was brought up.

“You are trying to obtain the Unholy Regalia?” You almost choked at the thought of her collecting every piece.

Sabrina and Ambrose gave each other nervous looks before nodding sadly. At this, you couldn’t help but burst into a fit of laughter.

“You realize this was made for you to fail! How could they expect you-“ you paused.

Suddenly, inspiration struck. You mind flew to the Regalia and it’s power. You smirked at the Spellmans as you drummed your fingers against the table. Things are going perfectly-at least for you.

“This Regalia is going to determine who is the ruler of hell?” You asked, twirling another cookie between your fingers.

“Yes, and Caliban is the only competitor. This man of clay seems to be hell bent, if you’ll excuse the pun, on defeating Sabrina, ruling Hell, and conquering Earth.” Ambrose bit his lip, and you couldn’t help but notice the frantic bouncing of his knee.

“And Caliban? What are his powers?”

“We aren’t sure. As far as we know he has the powers of any warlock, but he hasn’t shown us much.”

You gave a brief smile as you stood up from the table abruptly, knocking some cookies off your plate. That, of course, made Hilda wince.

“Do you know what’s funny about clay?” You asked with a face full of amusement.

The family shrugged to your little question with a series of confused whispers.

“No matter how good the sculptor, clay will always break.”

—

It had been a while since you have seen Hell. The stench of blood and death engulfed you, and torment was plastered on every suffering souls face. The walls of pandemonium were no better. Sinners were strapped against the wall and with every ten seconds of peace another 60 were spent with their bodies set on fire. You kept a straight face despite the cookies from earlier running up your throat. You were disgusted.

You felt Sage’s feathers brush against your cheek as she situated herself on your shoulder. You could feel her anxiety from being here and it was a valid feeling. She knew how you were feeling.

“So what am I suppose to do?” You asked as you flattened some of Sage’s feathers on her head.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the sight of your alli. Sabrina was an absolute wreck. She was chewing her bottom lip and wringing her hands every five seconds; you couldn’t tell if you were dealing with her or Hilda.

“Right now, you are going to be a scare tactic. Ambrose didn’t go into detail since he isn’t quite sure either, but he said Hell feared you. I’m going to need that fear.” You tried to ignore the way her face dropped.

After all, whatever was bothering her was none of your business. You were here for one reason and one reason only-

“Do you really speak to the false God?”

You blinked at the question and were about to brush her off, but you saw the way she pleaded with you for an answer.

“Didn’t you speak with yours?”

She gulped quietly before nodding more to herself than you. Guilt crept up your spine. She didn’t deserve your kindness, but you supposed she also didn’t deserve your spite. That was for her father. You could spare some advice.

“How long have you known you were Lucifer’s daughter?”

Sabrina was surprised by your sudden question but still answered, “Not long?”

“I can tell.” Sabrina stopped in her tracks at the confession. She could sense the trace of an insult and was greatly offended.

“What the hell is that suppose to mean?”

You gave her an amused look before continuing on,“I’ve known you for three days and even I can tell you are ill suited to be queen of hell just as everyone else can.”

She was at a loss of words as she tried to regain what was left of her pride.

You rolled your eyes and chuckled,“ You gotta stand up straight and quit being so nervous is what I am trying to say.”

Realization dawned on her face as she finally understood what you were trying to say. You shook your head in fake disappointment before pushing open too large blood coated doors.

You walked into the throne room where Lilith was expecting you and Sabrina. She was awfully disguised in the form of a human. It didn’t take you long to notice though. You could see through any poorly casted spell. You came to halt in front of the woman and quirked an eyebrow.

“Madame Satan,”

“Ah, the final witch. I thought you’d be-” she narrowed her eyes-“bigger.”

You gave a sweet smile and responded, "Yes, just like I thought you’d be queen. Guess life is full of disappointments. Isn’t it?

Her glare could slice you in half, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it did. Lilith made a move towards you but Sabrina quickly pushed her away.

“ Anyways,” she chuckled nervously as Lilith patted down her dress, “The court will be in soon to discuss more about the competition as well as upcoming changes I have been planning.”

Lilith hummed in agreement as she turned to face you once more to add on.

“You will be introduced as the Final Witch, who has sided with Sabrina in the competition. It should gain us some leverage. You must remain calm and seem regal despite whatever they may say. They need to know you are untouchable.”

You could clearly see the confusion laced on Sabrina’s face. She clearly had no clue who she allied with.

The sounds of heavy footsteps and high pitched cackles caught Lilith’s attention, “Here they come,”

You let out a breath as demons filed into the room. The last to enter were the three plague kings with a man following close behind them.

Sabrina seemed to take your advice since she stood before them with the aura of the greatest queen of all time. You stood tall yourself to match Sabrina as you waited for her to begin.

“Before we discuss the new regulations I plan on using during my reign, I would like to announce a very important alli of mine, who believes I am more certified to rule Hell than your prince.”

Your eyes wandered across the room as you assessed everyone’s reactions. You didn’t expect a certain pair to be staring right back at you. He was dressed in a leather vest with claws poking out of it. He was leaning against a pillar towards the back with his arms crossed. You could tell he was either very bored with the meeting or he was trying really hard to pretend to be.

“I present the Final Witch!” Sabrina shouted with a prideful smile.

The eyes of everyone in the room became filled with absolute horror as they faced you. The man from earlier smiled as it dawned on him who exactly he was staring at.

You turned away from him and cleared your throat, “I do, in fact, put my support behind Sabrina Morningstar. I speak for Heaven and Hell when I say that balance must be restored. A Morningstar must remain on the throne. Clay can not compare to blood.”

Whispers filled the room as they pondered their next step. You didn’t need to give a big speech. They knew of your hatred for the Morningstars. It was prophesied to be legendary. If you could agree with a Morningstar, then it must be correct.

“And what does your word mean to us?” A deep voice shouted from the back.

Your eyes immediately locked with the man’s once again.

“What does your word-” he said, walking ever closer to you-“ mean to me?”

You scoffed, “Excuse me.”

“Who are you to say I cannot rule Hell?” He asked.

Your eyes shot open when you finally comprehended who was in front of you.

“I’m the one soul no one could take. The one soul no one can have. I have powers that I am sure exceed what your small mind is capable of imagining. They are powers that Lucifer Morningstar gave me but could not take back. Powers that Heaven and Hell allow me to keep. They were indebted to me!” You seethed as he got in your face.

It was an obvious tactic to intimidate you, but you had definitely seen worse. Caliban only laughed at your attempt to prove yourself valid.

“Lucifer? How powerful could he be. It would seem he was tricked twice by two mere witches? Why should we let that legacy live on through her? The same witch that took down that same man, may I add.” He challenged as he pointed to Sabrina seated on her throne.

A small gasp left your lips as you listened to what he said. She’s the reason this all happened? She brought you here because she screwed up? You sent a glare at Sabrina as she tried to look away from you.

You were quickly losing traction on your side of the argument, so you had to think fast. The angered voices of the demons before you signaled that your lifespan was shortening if you didn’t find something to say, and Sage was getting more nervous by the second on your shoulder.

“Think about what you are getting yourself into. Lucifer didn’t lose to Sabrina because he was weak. He could kill you all without lifting a finger. He lost because Sabrina was stronger. She was stronger than him, so she is certainly stronger than you. I may be his enemy, but I’m smart enough to recognize the Morningstar strength.”

His eyes narrowed at your own. He was a foot away from you, and you were tempted to start a fight right then and there. However, it seemed Caliban had other plans. He smiled at you. There wasn’t any emotion behind it. It was just an unsettling simple smile. He suddenly turned on his heel and backed up from you.

“I’ll test your theory of her strength through this competition as well as yours. However, when you realize that she has dealt you some bad cards, feel free to slide into my bed for some better ones, beautiful.” A series of deep laughs echoed throughout the room.

You glared at him as he gave you a lustful look before walking off with the plague kings. Everyone allowed the rest of the meeting to go by with less trouble since Sabrina decided against sharing her new rules today. As the last of the horrid creatures left you shot Sabrina with the most terrifying look you could muster.

“You are telling me everything NOW,”

[cordonian-literature]

The Aftermath - Ch. 22

Surprise Appearances 

Summary: At the Masquerade Ball, Liam tries to spend time with Riley, and Eleanor gets herself in an odd place.

Word Count: ~5.5k

Warnings: none

*All characters belong to Pixelberry, except those that are unique to my story (I’ve also used some characters and fictional instances from Donna Tartt’s book “The Goldfinch”)*

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- Eleanor - 

Walking into the palace felt like I had walked into a movie scene. I couldn’t believe that this would be where I would stay for the next few weeks, or as Bartie told me, possibly for the rest of my life. 

Aunt Rowan, Mama, and me drove over in a limo with Duchess Olivia and Countess Hana, while the Beaumont family went in their own car. We showed up around noon, and Liam was on the steps to lead us in. He had a wide smile on his face, and he walked up to our car to help Mama get out.

Gabe rushes towards Mama, slightly pushing in between her and Liam to hug her, and I go to hug Liam. Mama laughs as they lead us to her room, saying that it was very freeing for her to walk without a cast. 

Mama’s room is connected to my room, but Gabriel’s is a little far and closer to Liam’s room. I felt a little weird about that, since our rooms had always been right next to each other, but I calm myself down and hope that it’s not permanent. 

Liam disappears for most of the day, and Mama spends time with Aunt Rowan, Duchess Olivia, and Countess Hana. Gabe gives me a small tour around the palace, with Bartie trailing behind us. 

There were also guards following us, and Gabe told me that it was weird for him, too, but Liam had said that it was necessary. 

Everything in the palace was just a collection of extremely fancy things, and things that I knew someone would yell at me for if I touched them. There were chandeliers everywhere, and the light from the windows reflected off of them. We didn’t get to go in all of the rooms since there were a lot of people coming in throughout the day, but everything I saw made me more and more excited to live here.

Before we could have dinner, Mama called us into a little dress shop inside the palace. Her and her friends spent forever picking out what to wear, but finally Countess Hana walked out in a pink dress, Duchess Olivia walked out in a sparkly red one, Aunt Rowan wore a black one, and Mama walked out from behind the curtain in a silver dress. 

“Work it, blossom!” Lord Maxwell says, suddenly appearing. He stops suddenly, looking Aunt Rowan up and down. “R- Rowan... you look... great.” His suit has silver and black squids on it. Aunt Rowan blushes. He shakes his head and with a silly smile walks towards a drawer and takes out a black mask that covers the top half of his face. He picks up another one and hands it to Mama. 

It’s covered with glitter and diamonds, and covers all of her face. If I looked away and then back at her, I couldn’t even tell that she was my mother. 

She poses in front of us, asking how she looked. We tell her that she’s like a beautiful disco ball, and she turns to find outfits for Gabe and me. 

Gabe gets a white tux with a blue vest. Lord Maxwell says that we don’t have to wear a mask, but helps Gabe find one anyway. Mama, Aunt Rowan, Duchess Olivia, and Countess Hana shuffle through dresses, finding something that would fit me. 

I stand there and wait, watching Lord Maxwell fussing over my brother. I wonder if Liam would show up, but Drake walks through the door wearing his everyday outfit. 

“You’re not dressed up?” Lord Maxwell asks him.

“No,” Drake answers. He says nothing else. 

Lord Maxwell stares at Drake, while Gabe and I look between them. “Is Jessica coming?” 

“No,” states Drake again. He looks around at Mama and her friends sorting through dresses. He walks closer to Mama, who holds up a gray dress. “Liam’s wearing something like that tonight.” 

Mama glances between me and the dress. “Come here,” she tells me. Holding the dress against my chest, she determines that it’s too big. 

“Oh, what about this one?” Aunt Rowan says, holding out a blue one. “Gabe and Ella could match!” Again they hold the dress against me. Mama walks into a changing room with me, but it doesn’t go over my head. 

“Too small,” Mama calls out. 

“Try this!” I hear Lord Maxwell say as a white dress flies over the door. “You could both match!” 

Mama helps me into that dress, but it feels itchy with all the glitter.

Finally, Countess Hana calls out, “This should fit her perfectly!” 

For the last time, Mama helps me into a poofy purple dress. I come out of the changing room, and everyone compliments me. 

“Here.” My brother hands me a purple and black mask. It only covers my eyes, but I feel mysterious.

Gabriel and I pretend that we don’t recognize each other. Mama joins in and laughs with us, but then starts telling us to walk towards the ballroom. We hadn’t even noticed that other people had came in to start getting ready. 

The closer we got to the ballroom, the more people I saw wearing bright, fancy outfits. All of the hallways were lined with unscented candles. As we walked closer to the ballroom doors, people’s heads turned in our direction. Bastien shows up out of nowhere, and reminds Mama that Gabe needs to be at Liam’s side. 

I can’t see Mama’s expression under her mask, and over all the people talking, I can’t hear her either. Gabe and I look at each other, then around the room, silently searching for Liam. 

The more I look around, the more I see that there are many people staring at my brother and I. All of a sudden, I didn’t want to do this.

I wonder if it’s too late to go back home, but then I ask myself where home even is.

I feel like I’m about to cry, and I do my best to stop myself. I bite my tongue and blink as fast as I can. Gabe notices and grabs my hand. 

“Can Ella and I go in together?” Gabe asks Mama and Bastien. They turn towards us, and then Bastien whispers something to Mama again. 

We follow him to the front of the crowd, where there is an open door. There are already a lot of people in the ballroom, and everyone is talking. I see Liam near a piano, wearing a gray suit with a gray mask, in a conversation with two other men. I wave at him, but he doesn’t see me. 

Gabe and I are still holding hands. He begins to walk forward, and I follow him. 

When we walk through the doors, someone yells: “His Highness, Prince Gabriel, and Lady Eleanor Blaise!” 

Liam had already told us that our names would be pronounced like that in public, but the man’s loud voice interrupts the steady pace of people talking. I hear whispers and see everyone’s heads turn. Gabe walks slower. I turn towards Liam, wanting to run up to him and ask him to put the party for another day. Thankfully, he sees us and motions for us to come near him. 

“Good evening children,” a tall man says. The person next to him nods, and all those lessons Lord Maxwell gave us about people’s names become useless; Because of the masks, I didn’t know who anyone was!

But Gabriel flows easily into the conversation. “Good evening, gentlemen.” He turns to Liam and continues, “Good evening, Li- Father.”

I force myself to contain a giggle. Liam smiles at us. The second man asks, “How are you both enjoying Cordonia so far?” 

“We haven’t seen much yet,” Gabriel states. “But it’s gorgeous. I’m proud to call it my home.” 

I hear the smile in his voice. Something edges at me, wondering if those words were Gabe’s real feelings or not. But I mean... it’s not like Cordonia isn’t a pretty country. It’s not like I wouldn’t be proud to call it my home. 

The men turn their attention to someone behind us. “Lord Maxwell,” the two men greet in union.

“Your Majesty,” Maxwell says to Liam. I want to give our little inside joke and say that Liam wasn’t really the king, but the way that these men talk make me feel like making a joke would be stupid. That’s the last thing I wanted these people to think of me. “Duke Hakim. Duke Rashad.”

We turn to see Aunt Rowan at Lord Maxwell’s arm. She bows towards Liam.

“C’mon, baby blossoms,” Lord Maxwell says as Duke Hakim and Lord Rashad take Liam’s attention. “Let’s go get some snacks.” 

While we walk over, I start giggling again.

“What’s so funny?” Gabe asks me. 

“You said ‘Le Father’.”

“That was a close save. Imagine if I had called him by his name in front of those people?”

I roll my eyes at his lack of amusement.

On a table at the side of the room are small plates with snacks on them. The ones closest to us are cut up vegetables with toppings. I grab a tiny plate of pieces of celery with a dressing that smelled sweet. Gabriel follows me, and we both take bites of our foot. 

“I thought zayats like carrots?” someone says with a heavy accent. 

Gabe and I turn around to see Uncle Boris in all black, without a mask. His dark curly hair is pulled back with gel. He smiles down at us, and I jump into his embrace. 

“Uncle Boris!” Gabe says. He jumps into the hug. “When did you get here?” 

“Oh, few hours ago. Had to make pit stop in Cordonia, figured I should visit my zayats.”

Lord Maxwell holds out his hand, and Uncle Boris shakes it. Him and Aunt Rowan share a quick hug, and she asks him if he was on the guest list. 

“No,” he answers. “I tell them I am Godfather of heir and they let me in.”

“I’m sure Liam would love to meet you,” Lord Maxwell says. “C’mere, I’ll introduce you—”

“Thank you, no.” Uncle Boris wipes off Lord Maxwell’s hand from his shoulder. “I need to leave early. In few minutes I have meeting. Where is your mama?” 

“I’m right here, Boris,” Mama says from behind him. They hug each other, and Uncle Boris looks Mama up and down.

“Dressing up for Prince Charming?” 

I see Mama roll her eyes under her mask. She turns to Countess Hana and introduces her to Uncle Boris. 

He kisses her hand, and greets Duchess Olivia. I can see that she’s frowning. 

“Are you here for the Social Season?” Mama asks.

“No, but have been convinced to participate a little bit,” he answers. He glances at his watch, then turns back to us and continues, “Sorry, zayats, time for me to go.” Everyone wishes him goodbye, and he disappears into the crowd.

The orchestra starts playing music, and people begin walking off in pairs. I see Liam from across the room. He’s with a woman in a silky pink gown, but his eyes are on Mama.

We had to stay with the party until dinner, so while we wait, Gabe and I walk around for what feels like hours. We bump into Liam again. He’s talking to a man who stands with a woman and two children. When Liam sees us, his eyes go wide. The man he was talking to turns. 

“Hey there, you two!” I don’t know who he is, but I return the smile he sends us. “Want you to meet your cousins, Hunter and Heather.” 

I glance at Gabe, wondering if he knew who the man was. My brother smiles at the two children in front of me. 

They’re both slightly taller than us. They wear white masks, and their outfit matches with their mother’s.

“Hi!” Heather says. Hunter just nods. 

“Why don’t you guys go walk around while your dad has a talk with Uncle Leo?” the man says. I still don’t know who Uncle Leo is, but I nod and the four of us walk away. 

Eventually we end up near the snack table again. We stand there, and I don’t know what to say to Hunter or Heather. 

“So...” Gabe tries. 

“So.” Heater says. 

“Um... are you guys enjoying the party?” 

They nod. We don’t move or talk, but watch some people on the dance floor. 

I notice Aunt Rowan and Lord Maxwell dancing together. Duchess Olivia dances with someone I can’t see, and Countess Hana dances with Duke Rashad, whose outfit I remembered from earlier. 

“This is the most boring party ever,” someone says. There’s another boy and girl walking around the snack table. I think they’re the same age as Hunter and Heather, but I can’t tell. “Even the snacks taste like burning garbage.”

“You should try some of the shrimp over there,” my brother suggests, nodding his head towards the other side of the table. 

The boy and girl look at our little group. The girl wears a purple dress, a little lighter than the color I was wearing. The boy wears a deep shade of orange, and they both wear elaborate masks with different colored feathers.

“Didn’t you hear me?” she says, an annoying tone in her voice. “It. Tastes. Like. Garbage.”

I notice Hunter frown at her.

“I think dinner is about to happen soon,” I say to her, trying to lift her mood. The way she talked unnerved me, and I wanted her to go away. 

She takes a moment to look me up and down. Suddenly, her tone lifts as she says, “Your dress is so pretty!” 

I look down at my clothes, feeling special. “Thank you!”

“Prettier than mine,” she continues, the sour tone back. “And that’s not how it works. The Princess of Auvernal should be the one with the prettiest dresses.” 

“That literally doesn’t mean anything,” Heather refutes, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“And... who are you again?” The Princess of Auvernal asks. She scoffs. 

Hunter nudges his sister and begins to walk away. Heather looks back at us, and I want to follow her and move away from these two people. But the Princess of Auvernal speaks up again. 

“I want to go play a game outside.” I notice her turn towards Gabe. “You’re going to play with us.” 

“Um...” My brother glances at me. I wished that there was a silent way to tell him that I didn’t want either of us to go with them. But I know that we can’t be rude to them. “Sure.” 

She begins walking out the front doors, and we follow her. I notice security everywhere. Some lights from inside illuminate the dark night. I look up and see stars sparkling at me. 

Some people are outside, talking in groups or pairs. A servant comes out of the front doors and announces that dinner is being served. People walk back inside, but the Princess of Auvernal and her brother walk away from the entrance, and my brother follows. 

“Perfect,” the Princess says. “No one will bother us.” 

“Shouldn’t we go in for dinner?” I ask. 

She turns to me. “You can go in. You’re not supposed to be playing with us.” 

Gabe and I look at each other, trying to figure out what she meant. 

“Didn’t you hear me?” she questions, walking up to me. I want to run away. I don’t like her. “You don’t have the proper lineage to be able to play with us. Go. Away.” 

Gabe comes in between the princess and I. “She can play if she wants.” 

The boy gives a laugh, and I try to figure out what’s so funny. 

“Fine,” the Princess of Auvernal says. “You know what? She can be our little guinea pig for this game.” 

She grabs my wrist and leads me farther away from the entrance. 

Two guards speak up from behind us. One I recognize from the entrance. 

“Your Highness,” one says to the Princess. “Your parents would not like you to stray this far from the main party.”

“Oh, shut it!” she screams. “Leave us be, or I’ll have you exiled!”

Gabe looks back at both guards, but then follows me and the Princess of Auvernal. 

We end up in a garden. I smell and hear nature all around me, but it’s so dark over here that I can barely see what’s in front of me. 

“Here,” the princess states, finally stopping. “You will go into the maze and try to find the middle. And then you, Gabriel.” She lets go of my wrist and walks to my brother. “Will go to the entrance, close your eyes and try to get back to the ballroom!”

“What?” Gabe asks. “But... that’s not really a game. Why don’t we play hide and seek or something?” 

The princess scoffs. “Fine!” she screams. “Go back towards the entrance, Gabriel. Count to thirty, and then try and look for the three of us.” 

My brother begins walking away, but I notice him look back at me again and again. 

Once he’s out of view, the princess turns back to me. “Now, Isaac and I are are going to go hide over there, and you’re going to go hide in the hedge maze, understood? If you reach the middle, I have candy for you.” 

I wanted to tell her that I didn’t want candy, I just wanted her to go away from me. 

So to get her to stop talking to me with that mean voice, I agree. She pushes me towards the maze and I stumble in. When I turn around, her and her brother aren’t there anymore. I start walking forward, but everything was so dark. I thought that there should be lights somewhere, but there’s nothing. Maybe someone forgot to turn it on, or maybe I just wasn’t supposed to be here? I turn around to try and go back, but I don’t know which way is forwards or backwards. I put my hands in front of me and feel leaves. I start shuffling to my right, trying to guide myself. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I want to cry. I try to calm myself though, saying that if I got to the middle, everything would be okay. Maybe Mama was in the middle, or Liam was. If I got to the middle, maybe this lonely feeling would go away.

- Liam - 

The children do not show up to the dinner table, but neither do Lord Maxwell or Lady Rowan. Liam hopes that the children are with them, and continues chatting with guests throughout the meal.

Leo takes a seat near him, and Liam’s heart clenches. A few seats away sat Riley, chatting with Lady Penelope and Countess Hana. Liam planned on telling one of his guards to keep a close eye on his brother, and make sure that Leo didn’t get anywhere near Riley. 

There were more people at the ball than Liam had expected. Dukes, Duchesses, Earls, Countesses, Lords, and Ladies from countries all around the world. Liam had even overheard that there were more people expected to show up after the next few events. He wondered what caused the sudden increase in attendance, and hopes that it has nothing to do with Gabriel. He wants to keep the boy and his sister away from the political goals of foreigners for as long as he can. 

After dinner, people went back onto the dance floor. There were so many women asking Liam to dance with him that he wasn’t even able to walk towards Riley and ask her if she wanted to dance. Thankfully though, the ballroom was beginning to clear out a little as people retired for the night.

Liam manages his way across the ballroom towards Riley. Lady Kiara stands with her. 

“Your Majesty.” Kiara bows. She then glances between Riley and Liam, then excuses herself.

“I hope you’ve had a pleasant evening,” Liam says to Riley. 

“Yes, actually. People were much nicer than I thought they would be. And Penelope and Kiara said that they were glad to see me again.” 

“You were quite a fixation at court. Whoever forgot about you is a scoundrel.”

“And I’m assuming you are not one of those scoundrels?” she asks, humor in her tone.

“You have blessed my existence ever since I first laid eyes on you. My heart would not allow me to forget you.”

He can’t see most of her face from under the mask, but notices in the smile in her eyes. 

“Would you like to dance?” he asks her, holding out a hand. 

She takes it. “It would be my pleasure.” The words send a jolt of heat through Liam’s chest. He turns and leads her to the dance floor, which was less full compared to hours before, but there were still many people continuing the party. 

When the music starts, both of them flow into the dance. Liam felt self-conscious holding her so close to him, but is distracted by the way she looks at him. He’s surprised at the energy in her step, finding her movements more enthusiastic than his. He matches her tempo, and she laughs. 

“Didn’t know you still had those moves,” Riley says to him. 

“I could say the same thing about you, but I’m not surprised at the way you amaze me.” 

“Really? Tell me, Your Majesty, when have I amazed you?” 

“Like I said, from the day I first laid eyes on you.” 

“I amazed you by serving you and your friends during your bachelor party?” Riley gives a light laugh, and Liam’s heart flutters again. 

“You amazed me by caring about something I thought was foolish. It’s because of you that I trust myself to follow my heart.” 

She doesn’t answer him, and they continue spinning around the room. 

Liam sees a set of French doors from the corner of his eye. 

“Do you remember this?” he asks her. 

“Remember what?” 

“Follow my lead.” 

Liam begins to guide Riley across the ballroom floor, taking a little longer than he usually would have. When they reach the set of French doors, he leads her through and onto the empty balcony. 

“Ah, yes,” Riley laughs. “Our little private get-away. You do still have those moves.” 

“Of course,” Liam responds. “Though they were a little rusty. I’ve gone too long without practice.” 

“Whatever will we do about that?” 

They share a laugh. Liam watches Riley as she walks towards the railing and looks out. 

“Does this bring back memories?” Liam asks her. 

She’s silent for a few moments. “These memories never left me. I replayed the Social Season countless times in my head over the years.” Riley turns back to him. He loves the look of excitement in her eyes. 

“I hope you remembered us fondly,” he says to her, though he wishes to ask how she remembered him specifically.

“Of course.” She turns back around. “I haven’t asked you how you felt about Regina’s passing. How are you holding up?” 

Liam laughs to himself, thinking about the information that he had gathered these last few weeks. “I couldn’t care less, and that is because I do not care at all.” 

Riley turns back to him suddenly. “But... she was still like a mother to you. At least for a time.” 

“She was no mother to me, Riley. She kept my family away from me.”

“Don’t blame her for that,” Riley begins. “That was my fault. If I had come earlier, or tried to be more discreet... or even figured out a way to come back later...” 

He walks to her and holds her shoulders. “Riley, none of that was your fault. Regina has been working to keep us apart ever since she pushed me to marry Madeleine at my Coronation.” 

“Liam, please don’t lie to me.”

He falls back, wondering what she meant. “What? I haven’t—”

“You didn’t propose to Madeleine because Regina told you to, you proposed to keep us both safe.” 

“But wouldn’t you have been safer if you were besides the king?” 

His words resonate something in both of them, and they fall into silence. 

He stares down into her eyes, and she stares back up at him. He wants to ask her to take off the mask so he could see the full extent of her beauty, but again she turns away from him.

“I can’t see any lights in the garden?” Riley tells him. 

Liam walks to her side, looking out at the dark expanse in front of them. “There are some renovations happening. A few were trampled during the night of the theft. They turned off the lights so people wouldn’t wander there.”

“That’s too bad,” Riley comments. “I thought we could go play maze tag for old time’s sake.” 

“Perhaps we can, before tomorrow’s Derby.” 

“Sure,” she answers in a soft voice. 

Again they fall into silence as they stare out into the blank night in front of them. Liam occasionally glances at her, and even though she’s right next to him, he wants to be closer to her. He holds out a hand. She turns and places her fingers gently on his palm. Bringing her hand to his lips, he kisses her knuckles. 

When the music from inside starts up again, he pulls her closer to him. They sway lightly to the music, eyes glued on each other. He feels the warm of her skin, and curses the fabric that keeps them apart.

“The night is almost over,” Riley says. “And we were only able to have one dance together.” There’s a smile in her voice

Liam’s face falls. “If I could, I would have spent the entirety of tonight by your side, but—”

“Duty calls,” she finishes for him. “I know.” 

His obligations as King were keeping him away from spending time with Riley, and he feels a sudden anger pool in him for not remembering his new priorities.

“I heard people make some comments about Gabriel and I,” Riley tells him. The anger in Liam intensifies.

“Who? Tell me—”

“Liam,” she says forcefully, her tone still gentle. “Don’t. We both know the people probably have a lot of questions. Instead of pushing them to the side, we should answer them.” 

“Of course.” He tries to pull her closer to him. He leans down towards her ear and whispers. “My responsible queen.” 

“We should probably be more discreet about this, too,” she mentions. 

“Yes.” He leans back a little. “The last thing we want is another scandal. But let’s enjoy this time while it’s our’s.” 

“I would like that.”

Their noses were inches away from each other. “The moments in between belong to us,” he tells her. 

“So nothing’s changed?” 

Liam looks away for a moment, thinking. He turns back to her. “In a way, it hasn’t. My time will always belong to you.” 

“And your heart?”

“Your’s. Forever.”

Her calm voice sounds like gentle wind when she says, “As is mine.”

They continue to move with the music, their bodies flush against each other. Neither could stop looking into each other’s eyes. Liam asks himself what was stopping them from giving themselves to each other, but he knows that time hadn’t been on their side. A small panic runs through him when he realizes that he must make up for the ten years they lost, or at least show her what could have been during that time. 

But he focuses again on her eyes, and feels calm. She was here now, in his arms. All he had to do was not let go, at least for a few weeks, and she would understand. Their lives would be the way it should have been. 

The door to the balcony opens, but Liam and Riley do not part from each other’s embrace. Bastien holds the door open, and Gabriel walks out. 

The light from inside illuminates the boy’s face. His eyes are swollen and his face is wet. The skin around his lips is red. Riley rushes towards her son, and holds his head in her hands. Liam walks towards them, looking up at Bastien. 

“What happened?” Liam asks his guard. 

“Ella and I,” Gabriel begins, managing to speak between hiccups. “Were in the garden... with two other kids, and then... I think she went into the maze... and I yelled at her to come back... but I don’t think... she heard me, and I don’t... know where she is.” The boy falls into a crying and coughing fit. Riley pulls her son close to her with one arm, taking her mask off with her other hand. She looks up at Liam with a panic. 

Liam tries to control his heart rate, but he’s breathing too quickly. He had seen Gabe and Ella walk off with Hunter and Heather. Liam wonders if it was Leo’s children who had forced Ella into the maze, but he remembers seeing them during dinner. 

With his usual stoic expression, he walks back into the ballroom and makes a beeline for the front doors. People are on their way up to their rooms or to continue the party elsewhere, and servants have begun cleaning up. Liam nods at everyone who looks in his direction. After he steps out again into the cool night air, he takes off his mask. There are already multiple guards in front of the garden, waving around flashlights. 

Liam grabs one from the guard and goes straight towards the maze. He doesn’t even need the light to know where he’s going, but how was he supposed to find Ella? Did she make it to the center or did she stop? Which direction had she taken? There was nothing that could provide them with a clue, so Liam begins calling out her name. 

They were at a slight distance from the palace, so he wasn’t afraid of anyone hearing him. Liam notices other guards enter the maze and began calling out for Ella as well. 

As time goes on and Liam passes by the middle at least twice, his head pounds with anger, and fear for Ella. What if someone had been lurking in the dark and had taken her? Where the Hell was Leo? Had he done something to her? The poor child was possibly overwhelmed because of the party, and now there was this foolish incident that must be instilling fear in her. 

Liam begins running around the maze. Suddenly, he hears heavy breathing, interrupted by the shaking of tears. His mind brings him back to the night he found Riley crying at the Beaumont’s house... but this was the sound of a child. 

Ella. 

He walks backwards, and the crying gets louder. Liam flashes the light around him, looking into corners and behind bushes. Leaning closer to the wall, he realizes that Ella is on the other side.

Liam expertly finds his way around the wall. He moves the light in front of him, and sees Ella huddled in a corner, her knees pulled close to her chest and wrinkling her dress. She looks up at him, her chin quivering violently. 

Without even realizing it, he collects the child in his arms. She buries her face in his shoulder and continues to whimper, her small hands grabbing his clothes tightly in her hands. Liam runs a hand along her back and kisses her cheek, attempting to soothe her. 

He nods at the guards he passes, and they begin to follow him out of the maze. Near the entrance, they find Riley and Gabriel waiting. Riley walks by Liam’s side, guiding him to Eleanor’s room. The guards disband. Liam hears music playing from the ballroom, and is glad that they wouldn’t bump into anyone. 

Inside Ella’s room, Riley rushes forward to pull away the covers. Liam puts her on the bed, but she doesn’t let go of his suit. He leans down close to her, and whispers in her ear: “It’s alright, Ella. You’re back in your room. I’m here, aren’t I? You’re safe.” 

He kisses her cheek again, and she lets go. She pushes her face into the pillow, and before Liam fully pulls away, he catches her say, “Thank you, Daddyo.” 

“Good night, Eleanor,” he says to her, his heart fluttering in his chest. Riley has climbed into the bed next to her daughter. She gives Liam a thankful smile, and he leads Gabriel out of the room. 

After helping Gabriel to bed, Liam retires for the night. Besides the anxiety that arrived with Eleanor’s little incident, and not having been able to spend as much time with Riley as he wanted, he was still content with the way things were. 

For the first time in what felt like a century, Liam told himself things would be okay, and he actually believed himself. 

[anonil88]

A Green Night on the Town.

Is this a modern au? No. Ruby and Christina end up meeting the neighbors as William and Hillary. But Ruby wants to go to the bar and live a little, 👀.

Ruby Baptiste X Christina Braithwhite

Inspired by comments and posts by @dreaduquesne and @taylor144. I did do some research for this, the one song is from the 1960s but we are gonna pretend it's not. If you are going to be negative just for negativity sake please don’t. Wanted to post this before tonight’s episode where this ship may go down in flames. One more ep left after tonight *insert sad emojis*

Songs in order of appearance in story: Put on my Shoes by Mary Anne Fisher, I don't know by Ruth Brown, One Man's Poison by Liz Lands, It's Your Voodoo Working by Charles Sheffield.

MATURE RATING

LINK TO STORY ON ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN 

Ruby sat in the Bentley checking her image in the side mirror. The red lipstick she reapplied was new and came in a gold bullet with roses carved into it. It was the shade Ruby and she got it on one of her shopping adventures. As Hillary of course. The matte color clashed with Hillary's choice of clothing but perfectly matched her pink dress with red and blue flowers stitched onto it. She wasn't only checking her face but looking out for unfriendly neighbors.

In the weeks she's been with Christina in the house, the looks she's gotten are usually not friendly. Kids and parents alike staring her up and down like she is trash. In her most unholy form of self they smiled "Fake ass white folks ," she thinks. They were lucky most white people did not want trouble knowing William lived with her openly. As openly as they could be, the city of Chicago has always cared less about couples like them but the people sure do care enough. Ruby glances at the door that sits far behind iron gates. 

After her day out, William introduced her to some of the neighbors on another street who had kids. Kids who looked innocent playing in the streets. A group of men talking on the street flagged the Pontiac down making Ruby tense but William's hand rested atop hers in the middle of the seat.  They spoke across her wondering where they could get themselves a car and a woman that. William chuckled and made small talk which Ruby side eyed her partner for. 

That led to them both getting out of the car introducing themselves to these men and their wives as Hillary and William Davenport. An invitation for dinner came from one wife who kept commenting on the bump in Hillary's hair too nicely. Ruby heard a little bit of Christina's snark in Williams no and tampened that response with, "Sorry we have plans tonight." Which thankfully was accepted and before then they had no plans but now Ruby wanted to spend the night dancing to music, maybe singing just a little. As herself, after an exhausting day of keeping up with the Joneses or Smiths or whatever white slave master name they probably shared with a poorer distant cousin on the Southside. Damn she kinda missed the Southside. Christina had been before but not like this.

She sees a teenage boy dragging a trash can down the driveway next door but listens to the sound of feet making their way down the walkway. Slowly she puts the lipstick in her purse that will get left in the back seat because tonight she wants nothing to hold her back. Ruby watches Christina open and lock the gate with her back turned. Hair perfectly swooped to the side even in moonlight.

The tall blonde was in a green dress fitted at the waist that was far too fancy for whatever jazz joint they were bound to end up in. It looked new but Ruby swore Christina had too big of a closet, almost big enough for two people. William had a vest in a similar color, he wore a few days ago...well she wore Ruby guesses. Christina looks nice as she saunters towards the silver drivers side and Ruby bit the inside of her lip. There was something about the way the woman was so sure and confident in her walk, how she sat, or how she inserted the silver key into the ignition. Even when she was out dressing her for a simple night on the town. Those long hands just so handling the key before slipping...

Ruby swallows her jealous admiration and rolls her eyes, "Seriously?"

"What, is this too much ?" Christina asks, smoothing her fingertips over the leather of the steering wheel. She leans over Ruby likely too close and slips a vial of William's blood in the glove box. Giving Ruby an amused stare that makes Ruby roll her eyes even harder. Christina thinks of this as a game, one they both play. There are days she has already taken her potion and is dressed in slacks eating breakfast. Ruby will saunter into the kitchen dressed in a number that makes Christina wonder if keeping Ruby hostage would be so bad. Probably, if Leticia found out there would be a makeshift army outside her front door.

"Ha," Ruby laughs out loud and Christina smiles, "You fucking think, it's a jazz joint not the Ritz. Who in the Sam Hill are you trying to impress tonight?"

Christina lowers her eyes to Ruby's lips. She thinks of just exactly who she was continually trying to impress as covertly as possible. Ruby looks away and back realizing Christina is still staring at her like....that. She does it in William's skin too, those eyes sizing her up. Two piercing blue eyes always staring at her so deeply Ruby thinks she could burst into flames. No matter the face she does find it hard to look away. 

"Don't look at me like that. I warned you about that, now drive." Ruby says crossing her arms in her lap listening to the engine come alive. Christina grins to herself but keeps her words to herself as she shifts the car into drive.

The night leads them to Vesey's where Ruby is plenty filled with free drinks. She already sang at the last spot with a band but her presence rouses the crowd that is already not slow at all tonight. The bar is more packed than normal and Ruby forgets to ask why. She did hear Sammy whisper across the bar to a man next to her something about a discreet open door to friends of Dorothy for once. As soon as her and her unlikely plus one arrived, Christina said she'd be fine on her own. 

Ruby took that for truth but tried to read her half truth anyway. Christina held her own well but not like this...this would be a first. That was something Christina would say often "a first" with practically anything it made Ruby wonder if her secret-sometimes lover had any childhood or life at all before her sister came barreling into that mansion.

The whiskey is neat on her tongue as she tosses it back quickly before blearily grinning at Sammy. Tonight felt good and light and fun. No white eyes staring at her making her feel undone in front of them. Ruby in her skin surrounded by her kin and music that was sewn into her spirit. No matter how sad the lyrics could get the beat was full of life.

"And we have our resident songstress in the crowd tonight," someone on the small stage called out. Whistles came from the bar and the crowd mid dance at the stage. Andre, the young barkeep, winking at her taking her lipstick stained glass back behind the bar.

"I guess that's my cue Dre," Ruby raised her brows at him. He nods back, touching her hand sitting on the bar lightly. He sure was cute, she thought before slowly getting up from the stool. She makes her way past the packed house and in front of the band playing. Shouts and hollers come from the crowd as she holds out her hands. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the Ruby Baptiste." The man pushes the mic in her hand and whispers good luck to her. She isn't a stranger to singing while drunk or singing well while drunk. Not even with a big audience but there is a feeling of nerves in her fingers as she grips the mic and slips it back in the stand.

"Hello Southside," Ruby says into the mic. Whistles get louder and someone bangs on the bar. This crowd definitely had some new faces in it but they were smiling or leaning against someone else like lustful animals. "Alrighty i guess y'all are entitled to a few songs."

Someone yells from a booth, "Yea, where you been Ruby left us on the south side for the north side."

Ruby laughs into the mic, " Y'all think I would leave this behind never!" She looks at the guitarist, "maybe you." Folks gossiping was always a trend her name sour on so many people's mouths.

Everyone laughs in response and she laughs quietly to herself. She whispers to the band "Put on my shoes".

Ruby sways with the band as they start before leaning into the mic.

"Should I feel a little hot, you almost drive me insane, All your good intentions. Seem to wash right down the drain, put yourself in my place. You'll see what I mean and you'll know how I feel. And you'll feel, you'll feel a pain in your heart."

Ruby scans the crowd with her eyes, landing on random spots of the crowd that look more enthused then others. Her voice still gravels out...

"Baby I've been let down more times than I can remember how you cheated on poor lil me from January to December. Put yourself in my place. You'll see what I mean and you'll know how I feel."

Her hand cradles the mic as she throws her words into it. She knows that pain even if it is not her current romance. Her heart had been split open once or twice before. Maybe that's why she held her heart back in  this thing with William, Christina, or as Montrose called them Chrilliam.

"And you'll feel you'll feel a pain in your heart. I've always been faithful and I've always been true but there's gotta be the death gotta be a change in you."

Fuck him, she thought throwing her anguish in het voice before leaning back up to scan the crowd.

"Put on my shoes for a day.

Put on my shoes for a week.

Put on my shoes for a month or two, know what I've been through."

If only she could make a spell or potion, so that Christina could understand. Understand why she gets so angry and frustrated with the woman in and outside of her own blackness. She finally finds the blonde blending in surprisingly well. Christina has a drink in hand leaning against the wall, watching her. Blue eyes sweeping across the stage as Ruby moves about the space. Instead of looking away Ruby croons out....

"Go on and have fun after all is said and done."

Someone bemoans out yes sing Ruby sing. Ruby watches Christina stare at her not breaking the tension between the two of them. If this was an empty house it would be much more obvious that Ruby had been stuck. Stuck on the way Christina clutched the glass in her hand to her lips. The way her eyes didn't waver or move from Ruby eyeing her up and down.

"Put on my shoes you'll get the blues the blues the blues if you put on my shoes."

The song starts to end and Ruby finally looks away. Her heart is beating so loudly it could probably take over for Gordy the drummer if they need be. If only Christina could know authentically how it felt to be in skin like hers. Not some misplaced gesture that could have gotten her dumb ass killed...if only. 

Christina half listens to the short woman sharing the table with her. She did not care at all what the woman was saying but she fully understood she had no power in this establishment. Magically yes, but physically she was the outsider here. If someone wanted to sit at the same table in this bar they could. This bar was thick with smoke, heat, and loud. Christina observed it all, everyone seemed at home in this small establishment. A home full of strangers that couldn't cross into Lincoln Park with that same joy and comfort. She didn't understand that feeling but she also never really had a "home" to connect to. A comfort as distant as her ability to empathize with these people.

A taller full figured woman stands next to the shorter darker one before sitting down eyeing Christina up and down. Which Christina doesn't change her one note expression for. The shorter woman is still yapping on about something and Christina flits her eyes between the two. At some point the taller one leans in and introduces herself as Celia. Christina leans in a bit to hear her and nods. Celia has a cool confidence she immediately picks up on instead of the jittery energy in between them.

"Isn't this wild Cil I've never seen a white woman walk in this place alone," the short one finally says in between winds of her story.

Celia smiles at Christina and says lowly, "Alone is right." Christina sees something in the taller woman's eye and grits her teeth a bit. She isn't alone, not really, with Ruby in the same building. But neither of them is kept and Ruby doesn't often kiss her without the pieces of William stuck to her skin. 

"What's he coming over here all fancy like for, she's just white. Not royalty." a man in the booth next to the table huffs out loud enough for Christina to hear. One purpose most likely she knows.

Christina turns and sees the owner of the bar walking over to the table with a tray holding a wine glass filled with red. A few bystanders jump out of his way or side eye him. This didn't seem like the place where people went to for a glass of wine. Sammy was his name, she remembers that from her own bits of research on her extended family. She has also heard whispers that he was or is linked to her cousin's father, in that way. He stops in front of her and places the glass on the table. 

"On the house Braithwhite." Sammy purses his lips a little at her and she crosses her eyes at him. "A request from..." the stage he mouths. She softens her look when he walks away and pulls the glass to her. Sipping it she almost laughs, it's an awful merlot that tastes like pennies. The copper taste sits on her tongue and her eyes go wide. Slipping her hand into the pockets on her dress she feels for the glass vial that should be there. After a moment of panic she feels the cold glass pulling it out a bit to ensure it's still full. It is. She sighs relief into the glass and sips it again.

The music from the band is still blaring as the crowd in front of the seating area sways and moves back and forth. No singing comes through the air and Christina leans her neck slightly to find Ruby on the stage or in the crowd. It takes a bit before a wheezy laugh proceeds and sees a man on stage with Ruby. He is swaying behind her as she holds the mic singing into the mic, 

"Could a heart so right be led so wrong if his love is weak would it last this long. I don't know but I hope and pray that he comes my way oh oh." 

Christina grips at her own thigh with the hand still sitting in her pocket.

The horn player toots out loudly and Ruby turns around lightly pushing away the tall built man behind her. It was all in good fun as the band kept playing and he sidled back up to her slipping his hands back to her waist teasingly. She hears the band transition into another song while she dances on stage. Left, right, left, right. She feels her hips sway away from the fingers resting above her dress. She recognizes this song and shakes her shoulders along to the music that's all around her. Looking back at the crowd she can see the stares that she is receiving from the men in the crowd. It is all temptation and fire from many directions but Ruby shrugs to herself. She did not come for a man, she had one of those already, which was obvious others heard about. Her core tightens thinking of that man, so adept with the way he took care of her. Where is he? She wonders looking back to the table she sent that bottom shelf wine to earlier. She sees Christina but Christina is holding a conversation with a glass half full. A conversation that Ruby blinks at, a woman, a very pretty light skinned girl is undressing Christina with her eyes. Ruby knows she can't hide the look on her face and bites her tongue. It earns her an, “Ooo gurl what's on your mind,” from the guitarist who she sees her face flare with jealousy. He’s following her gaze to the table and whistles loudly. He never thought Ruby went that way, but he didn’t know a lot about Ruby outside of rumors.

Braithwhite never looked out of place even in a place like this. She just fit in well without trying like a chameleon making herself comfortable in someone else's home. If Ruby did not know some of Christina’s truths this would concern her, but not so much now. At least even at her most sordid she was honest. The green of the dress did stand out but it felt see through to Ruby. She was pretty sure the woman on the other end could only wish for the type of knowledge she had. The alcohol and revitalized confidence in her gives her half the mind to throw her shoe from the stage. Maybe knocking Christina's eyes, that were probably not bulging as much as Ruby's liquored brain saw, back into her head. Ruby thinks better than that and sits the mic back in the stand and clears her throat into the mic.

Eyes including those blue ones find their way back to the stage. Ruby glares a bit in Christina's direction then directs her words back to the crowd. "Aight y'all this is my last song for tonight, it's something me and the boys have been cooking up."

Ruby hears the band whistle and mumble about someone having her in a mood tonight. The four count from the symbol goes off and Ruby clenches the mic letting her voice seep out,

"One man's poison is another man's meat, what's good for Johnny will kill poor Pete."

People in the cloud clap at the new sound. Folks lean up off the wall to move towards the dance area or to move with the crooning in their spot. Ruby smiles with her words as they continue. 

"I'm good at loving so make no mistake I was his gravy but I'm your steak. Kiss me baby hold me tight everything's gonna be alright."

Ruby sways her hips back and forth a bit. Christina feels her eyes getting heavy dragging up and down Ruby's frame. She catches Ruby glancing her way and licks her lips quickly before the woman turns away from her. 

"One man's evil is another man's pure, kiss me baby I want your sweet loving tonight." 

Ruby extends her leg on stage twisting it with the music as she dances with the fill of the band. Moving back to the mic she slides her hands around the tall skinny pole.

Christina empties the contents of her glass not moving her vision from Ruby. She's leaning out of her chair slightly, but tries to pull herself together. If the times allowed her to, she'd have Ruby right there on the stage and she guesses if the crowd wasn’t soaking in the way Ruby reeled them in. Ruby was full of magic and had an effect on people that Christina was sensitive to. Even the first time she heard her sing.

Ruby grins as the band keeps playing and nods to them. Which they respond with air kisses. The crowd jeers as Ruby makes her way off the stage. A man's arm outstretched guides her off the stage even though she didn't need any help. Ruby can feel fire on her skin likely from Christina at the attention from a few gentlemen as Ruby passes them on her way to the bar for a glass of water. When she makes her way towards the seating area she teasingly saunters past the table she knows the blonde is sitting at. Ruby feels the eyes outlining her from behind and hears someone excuse themselves from a table behind her. She keeps walking to the bathroom she knew was at the end of the hall. 

The sound of heels matching her stride as she opens and lets herself in the single person toilet.

Ruby swallows her moans while slowly tugging the long blonde hairs in between her fingers. Light tugs feeling soft rouged cheeks against her inner thighs. Lips kissing up against her thigh garters and stockings. Ruby exhales pulling Christina's head back up to hers.

"Is that what you wanted, sitting there pissed off because someone had your new toy."

Christina exhales feeling Ruby's nails scratch her scalp ever so. Her face is flushed, she can feel it, but she shakes out no lightly. "You aren't a toy," Christina pushes Ruby's hand away from her and leans over her. Less than inches away, "I guess I'm just a little jealous and it seems you are too." 

Ruby scoffs but doesn't deny it, instead she drinks in the way Christina looks at her. With a vigor and a hunger that makes her thighs clench against the hand there. Fingers that sting in her memories from the car stroke up and down and Ruby does something she rarely does. She leans in and pulls Christina's lips to hers.

Christina revels in the slow tongue inching along hers. Ruby's hand on the back of her head, pulls her closer, and she slaps a hand against the tile wall surrounding the mirror. She likes this Ruby whoever this Ruby is. Unattached. Christina whimpers, feeling her head shoulders pushed downward. This Ruby who kisses her even without her being William. She also feels good in Ruby who is bound and only kisses William.

"You said you'd kiss whatever I wanted Braithwhite," Ruby gathers the blonde’s hair in her hands. Sinking her red fingernails into the blonde scalp, she opens her legs wider putting more weight on the metal sink. Ruby feels her breath hitch watching Christina sink to her knees while biting her lip at Ruby's words. Christina is undoing the snap of her garter while pushing Ruby's dress further up her thighs. It's almost around her waist, but this was not the place to just strip of it completely. Ruby leans her head back in relief feeling Christina inch the lacey cotton fabric around her hips down until they are off completely. She hopes Christina tucks them in her pocket at least.

Christina sighs pushing the lacey fabric into the same pocket holding William. She lightly bites into Ruby's thigh before moving to taste her fully. There is a low shudder and the grip on her hair tightens as she dips her head forward closing her eyes to fully immerse herself in Ruby. Ruby feels the hot coils in her stomach snapping and crackling. Her free hand moves from clenching her mouth to gripping the sink. She doesn't want to ruin Christina's dress but the heel of her shoe is pressing into the blondes back. A gasp like moan escapes her mouth as a shiver runs across her collar bone.

"Oh shit," the door next to them squeaks open and shut quickly, making both Ruby and  Christina open their eyes. Christina turns her head upward to stare at Ruby. She can't say she feels any shame in her current position, but Ruby might. Ruby can only see the blue eyes peeking at her with concern and heat from the bottom of her dress. But, she feels like wetness on Christina's chin on her warm thighs. Ruby leans over to the lock on the door and twists it shut before leaning her head back on the wall. She regrips Christina's hair, "Kiss what I want."

Ruby moans out loud while music and a jazzy tune slips under the door.

“Your love is voodoo and I just can’t last. It's your voodoo working, voodoo working, voodoo working and I can't get a lick…..”

[rexsjaigeyes]

Tease - Part 2

Steve Murphy x reader | NSFW, 18+ Only!

[Part 1] [Part 3]

Words: 2,101

Warnings: lots of smut, female and male masturbation

A/N: Part 3 is coming soon!

Gasps and moans escaped your mouth as your eyes were screwed shut and your hands wandered your body. With two of your fingers, you felt how wet you were. You imagined they were his fingers teasing your entrance and sweeping past your clit.

This wasn’t the first time you had to touch yourself to the memories of what a certain tall, blond man did to you in the restroom of the dodgy bar. It had been almost three weeks since that night, but you hadn’t forgotten the way Steve gritted his teeth and groaned as his cock slid inside you.

He was like a drug that you couldn’t get enough of: the way his intense blue eyes stared deeply into your own as he bottomed out inside you; how his large hand fit perfectly over the curve of your breast; the way he whispered dirty things in your ear, causing heat to pool in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He had grunted those words in your ear before moving his head down to suck on your neck. The sound of his raspy voice was enough to make you cum, but you didn’t want it to end so quickly.

And now, even as you added a third finger to your cunt, you still felt oddly empty after knowing how amazing it was when Steve’s dick stretched you out. You moaned his name softly as your fingers picked up the pace, trying to match the rough way that he fucked you against the bathroom wall.

His mustache had tickled your face as he peppered kisses along your jaw before stealing the air from your lungs with a harsh kiss. He was in control of every movement, and the way his hands pulled your hips toward him caused bruises to form.

Arching your back off the bed, you bit your lip to stifle your moans as your second orgasm of the night washed over you. You panted heavily as you came down from your high, feeling a little tired but not nearly as satisfied as you had hoped you’d feel.

With a heavy sigh, you cleaned yourself up and resigned yourself to another restless night dreaming about Steve. Your eyes fluttered closed as your mind drifted back to the way he gently kissed you at the end of it all.

You frowned and tried not to think about the ‘what-ifs’. What if I had asked for his number?

Another sigh left your lips before you rolled over to your other side and fell asleep.

~

Steve sighed, taking a drag from his cigarette as he walked up to Javi. “They searched this whole area. No sign of him.”

Both of them were clad in their tight bulletproof vests, watching Carrillo and his men make their way back to the cars. Javi nodded at Steve in acknowledgement, a disappointed look on his face. It was yet another day that Escobar’s men seemed to be two steps ahead of the DEA and Search Bloc.

Steve squinted his eyes to combat the harsh light glinting from the setting sun. He looked around at the crowds of people who were trying to catch a glimpse of what all the police were doing.

Putting out his cigarette, his mouth opened slightly in surprise when he saw a familiar woman across the street. A puff of smoke left his mouth as he smiled, thinking the woman he spotted was you.

“Murphy!” Steve turned around to see Javi waiting for him by the passenger’s side of their car. “You comin’?”

Shaking his head, Steve pointed his thumb in the direction of the woman standing by a stall of flowers. “I think that’s her. The girl we met at that bar.”

“The one you can’t stop talking about,” Javi teasingly asked him. “Well go after her, hotshot. I’ll head back without you.”

A small smile crept up Steve’s face as he gave Javi the finger and took off his vest before throwing it into the car.

“Don’t wait for me,” Steve patted the side of the car and headed over to the woman across the street.

Once he was within a few feet of her, he ran a hand through his hair and straightened himself up. Clearing his throat, he stepped a bit closer to her and gently placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Didn’t think I’d see–” his voice faltered when the woman jumped from his touch and turned around with an incredulous gasp.

Quickly pulling his hand off her, he realized she wasn’t you. “Shit, uh…” He stepped back, not knowing how to explain himself to her as she rapidly spoke in Spanish.

Getting a little flustered, he held his hands up in surrender and could only think to say, “Tranquilo, tranquilo!”

The woman continued yelling at him, so he left before things got too heated, quickly heading back in the direction he came from. Clenching his jaw, he tried not to be disappointed in the fact that she wasn’t you. Looking up, he noticed that Javi and the rest of Search Bloc were gone, so it looked like he was walking home now.

“Fuck,” Steve muttered, his fists balled up in anger as he walked down the street aimlessly.

Should’ve just asked her out that night, you idiot. He cursed again at how his conscience seemed to be mocking him.

He didn’t really want to admit it, but he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night. Seeing the woman just now brought his hopes up: he thought maybe he’d have another chance to ask you out on a date.

His legs carried him to an unknown destination as the sky darkened, reflecting Steve’s unhappy mood. After walking for ten minutes, he took in his surroundings and recognized the street he was on. He was about five minutes away from the bar where he met you.

Steve stopped, weighing his options and whether it would be worth it to revisit the bar in the hopes that you’d show up. He licked his lips and shook his head, the rational side of him saying he was being stupid. But the other side of him pointed out that it was a Friday night and he was in the mood to drink away his feelings anyway…

“Ah, what the hell,” he shrugged and walked in the direction of the bar. He figured worst case: he’d get drunk on his own tonight and never see you again.

Four beers later, Steve’s patience was wearing thin and he was pretty sure the scowl on his face scared off anyone who dared look his way. He spent the whole night scouring the bar for you, ignoring the handful of women who gave him lustful looks or tried to speak to him.

His brow raised in annoyance, Steve handed the bartender the money he owed and got up with a soft grunt. Stumbling out of the bar, he looked around, the alcohol in his system almost making him forget where he was.

Steve’s eyes flickered to a beautiful woman across the street, and yet again, his heart leapt as his first reaction was that the woman was you.

“The fuck’s wrong with me,” he slurred his words as he shook his head and tried to sober up.

He looked away, starting to question his sanity if he was seeing you in every woman now. He was about to make his way back home when the sound of your melodious laughter cut through the noise of the busy street.

His head shot up in recognition; there was no way he could forget that adorable sound you made when the two of you were fumbling in the restroom of the bar as he kissed your neck.

A large smile grew on his face as he looked back in your direction. He was about to call out your name, but his smile fell when he noticed the man walking beside you causing you to laugh adorably.

Being drunk and jumping to conclusions, Steve assumed the man was someone you were dating. Jealousy boiled within him as the man made you laugh loudly again. He knew he probably had no right to be jealous of the random stranger, but that didn’t stop the way Steve’s eyes darkened as he watched the two of you. Getting angry at himself, he tried to push his thoughts away and trudged to his apartment.

Once inside, he closed the door a little too harshly and untucked his shirt from his pants. Tripping slightly, he made his way to the fridge and grabbed a beer before entering the living room. Placing the beer on the coffee table, he sat in front of the TV with a groan and rubbed his tired eyes. He knew he shouldn’t have another drink, but he didn’t really give a shit after what he just witnessed.

He replayed the moment behind his closed eyelids while his head rested on the back of the couch. Taking a sip of the cold drink, Steve thought of a way to calm himself down. Opening his eyes, he looked down at the table and his gaze landed on the porno that he recently rented.

Shrugging his shoulders and setting his beer down, he turned the TV on and pushed the tape into the player before returning to the couch. He took another gulp of his beer and got comfortable while the scene started.

Willing himself not to think of you, he watched the screen with glazed eyes, feeling his pants get tighter. He pushed his beer away before unzipping his pants with a soft grunt. Sliding his hand into his boxers, he wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock and groaned from the feeling.

Steve kept his eyes glued to the TV, but as he watched the woman on the screen wrap her mouth around the man’s length, he couldn’t help but imagine that you were knelt down in front of him as he stroked his cock. Letting his head fall against the back of the couch, Steve’s eyes fluttered closed as he imagined your mouth achingly close to the tip of his dick. His mind swirled with thoughts of how well you’d take him in your mouth.

In the bar where he met you, there wasn’t much time for foreplay, so he didn’t get the chance to know how good it’d feel if your tongue was stroking the underside of his cock. But as he touched himself now, he could imagine it so vividly after seeing you in person again.

His mind replaced the over enthusiastic moans coming from the TV with the way that you would sound instead. He remembered how you tried to stifle your groans so that no one outside the restroom could hear you. You were successful until he had growled in your ear to make more noise for him.

Blindly fumbling for the remote, Steve turned the TV off and continued pumping his dick in his hand while thinking back to that night in the bar. How amazing you felt with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. The way you cried out for him when he thrusted at a certain angle and hit that sweet spot just the way you liked it. The hickeys on your neck that caught his eye as you threw your head back in pleasure. Even though it was just one night, he found himself coming back to these memories over and over again, wishing he could relive it.

His hand sped up as he got closer to his release. The alcohol in his system stopped any shame from flaring in his chest as he moaned your name loudly in his empty apartment. Within seconds, he was crashing over the edge and imagining his hot load splattering on your tits while you smile up at him.

Steve slowly caught his breath, and the image of you between his legs faded disappointingly. Looking down at the mess he made, he sighed and reached for some napkins on the table beside him. Cleaning as much as he could, he wished you were really here with him so that he could have just fed you his cum instead of needing to wipe it off the fabric of his pants.

He stumbled to bed and collapsed on the mattress. The high of his orgasm was fading and he was left with that sickening feeling he got when he saw you with that man. Guess it wasn’t meant to be, he thought begrudgingly before passing out on the bed.

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

wild winter | dirty dancer; sammy guevara [ suggestive]

PROMPTS USED

Situation : Strangers / dirty dancing

Location :  In a nightclub while Sammy was on the road.

Extra: Guilty Pleasures, grinding / thigh riding + heavy makeout.

Notes: 

So... this isn’t exactly smut, but.. Thighs are ridden and hickies are left on skin. What can I say, Ginger just really, really, really loves to tease Sammy’s ass. Anyway, I found this one and I knew I had to transfer it over to this blog too. So, here it is.

Pairing:

Sammy Guevara x OFC, Ginger

Warning:

uhh.. this is suggestive, thigh riding / biting and hickies. Beyond that? Nada.

                                      SAMMY & GINGER in

                                     DIRTY DANCER;

“This place is not my scene. I’m out.” Jake Hager’s words barely registered on Sammy, his eyes were fixed on the dance floor. More to the point, they were fixed on the curvy brunette in the middle of the dance floor with the tequila bottle clutched in her hand. Each sway of her hips had Sammy tugging at the collar of a fitted black tee shirt and when he finally did tear his eyes off of the brunette, it was to discover that his friends bailed on him.

“Their loss.” he was quick to shrug it off, making his way over to the bar. He needed to sit down and compose himself because watching the mystery girl  dance had… Gotten him all sorts of hot and bothered. Downright stirred up.

He dragged his hand over his eyes to rub them and ease the strain he felt due to the low lights in the club and that’s when he felt someone press against him from behind and soft hands covered his eyes.

“What the hell?” Sammy yelped, about to turn around and punch whichever of his friends it might be screwing around with him.

“I saw you staring.” Ginger mumbled the words confidently against the outer edge of the handsome guy’s ear. She’d been eyeing him since he’d come into her favorite hangout spot earlier in the night with his entourage. She’d have been able to dismiss him as just another frat-boy tourist if he hadn’t started to openly fuck her with those magnetic and deep brown eyes of his. Eyes… They’d always been her downfall. The deeper a man’s eyes, the more of a guilty pleasure that man became. The more she just had to have them, even if only for a little while.

Her voice was whispery soft when she spoke to him, almost a velvety purr. It sent a shiver straight down Sammy’s back and he chuckled, turning on the stool to face her, eyes roaming slow and lustfully over her body. He bit his lip and mulled over his response as he leaned in slightly, reaching out, pulling her closer so that the crowd about to come past didn’t knock her over. He pulled in such a way that she ended up almost on his lap and she gave this little giggle, shaking her head as if to chastise him.

“You’re not denying it. Interesting.” she mused quietly as she moved away from him slightly, almost in a playful way. She was teasing, it didn’t take an idiot to figure that out. Sammy took a shaky breath and nodded to her tequila bottle.

“Partyin’ hard tonight, bomboncita?” Sammy had to say something to break the thick lingering tension between the two. The music was so loud that when he said it, he had to lean in. And yeah, he pulled her in closer all over again, flashing an almost teasing and bold smirk at her as he winked upon doing so. His fingers dug into her hip lightly and he swallowed hard, eyes locked on her.

Ginger’s teeth snagged on her lower lip as she shrugged in answer. She wasn’t even going to begin to think about just how damp she started to get when he used a Spanish pet name on her. Before tonight, before him.. That was not one of her known weaknesses. But something about the way he said it seemed to make it become one before she could stop it from happening.

“All work and no play makes for a dull girl. What about you, tiger?” Ginger offered as an answer, leaning in a bit more, her lips next to his ear.

Sammy bit back a groan and his fingers dug into her hip a little more. “Well, I’ve been chillin here. To make sure nobody messes with ya.” - it was a bold move, but if Sammy was anything, it was definitely true that he was a bit… territorial. And he’d been coming into this nightclub every single night since the show came to town because he was passing by and he saw her standing in the line outside.. There was just something about the way the red lights overhead bathed her in this glow.

He nearly walked into a light post that night and Ortiz and Santana hadn’t been able to let him live it down yet.

Ginger giggled, a brow quirking at his bold statement. She had to give it to the guy, he was nothing if not straightforward. She liked it. It was a refreshing change from the assholes she normally picked up at this place.

Or the ones who tried and failed miserably at picking her up.

“Aw, sweet. So you were gonna protect me, hm? Is that so, tiger?” Ginger was in full blown uncensored flirt mode. She’d grown up here, she knew the guy wasn’t a local and that most likely, he was just passing through. It really made it that much easier for her to just let her inhibitions completely go. There wasn’t any pressure, there wasn’t any potential for heartbreak. And picking up guys like this was another of her guilty pleasures. But this time something felt completely different. This felt… More natural. She was actually being herself right now, not going through her usual little act. The thought was certainly a sombering one and it left her a little dazed.

What he’d told her  came rushing out before Sammy got a grip on himself. It wasn’t like him to just blurt something out at first meeting, he was normally much more close to the vest than that. But watching her all week, he’d gotten this whole mental image of her built up in his mind.

And maybe it was the fact that he knew they’d be pulling out of town in another day that gave tonight a sense of urgency.

“ I mean, you’re here all alone.” Sammy wanted to groan at himself, stating the obvious, but it was something. He was talking to her. Not just standing there all tensed and ready to swing if anyone approached her like he had been thus far. It was a step in the right direction. Events finally lined up perfectly.

“Oh but you don’t know that.” Ginger was quick to correct as she winked and leaned in. “Do you dance at all, tiger? Or are you afraid that maybe I’m not here alone?”

“Oh, I dance.. Question is, are you sure you wanna dance with me? I can’t be held responsible for your actions.” his attempt at being suave had her giggling. When she turned to face away from him, he pouted briefly, standing there for a second or two, eyes glued to her ass as she rubbed it right against him. Letting out a low whistle, he pressed himself against her, his hands moving up and down her sides, his mouth next to her ear as he muttered quietly against it, “Fuck. If you’re not here alone, you’re not leavin with the same person you came with. Not if I got anything to do with it, baby girl.”

His hands squeezed her hips, rocking them so that she rubbed against him repeatedly. Ginger’s eyes fluttered open and shut as the strobe lighting overhead lit them up a little better momentarily. She licked her lips, pressing her ass completely against his groin and when his lips grazed against the side of her neck, she exhaled deep. The scent of his cologne, the warmth of his body, his breath against her ear and the way he strained at the dark blue jeans he was wearing; all of it combined to send her into a lustful frenzy.

And with the tequila already working overtime to assure that her inhibitions were pretty well gone, she gave into what she wanted, turning to face him, hands on her chest, gently guiding him down into the nearest chair as she straddled his lap.

Sammy grunted and growled quietly, shifting in the chair to try and get seated in a way that was comfortable for both of them, bucking against her from below. When she whimpered and grinded herself against his thigh, he gasped and his head fell back, his hands dipping down and locking across her back to hold her in place as he leaned in. “You like that, do ya?”

Biting that lip again, Ginger could only nod as Sammy centered her on his thigh completely, chuckling. She leaned in, her mouth crashing against his clumsily, their noses bumping hard causing the two of them to spring apart as they held their noses. It was Sammy who stopped laughing first, raising a hand from where he had it resting against her lower back to cup her jawline and pull her mouth against his completely, his lips latching around her lower lip as his fingers tangled in long and thick dark locks and tugged to pull her into the kiss fully. His tongue pushed past her lips and crashed against her tongue, taking over control of the kiss. His other hand raised to her hip, rocking her back and forth against his thigh, sucking in a sharp breath as the contact and the feel of her starting to get hotter; wetter.. She was practically dripping, he could feel the thigh of his jeans starting to dampen a little.

Her breathing was ragged and when she finally broke the kiss and pulled back to catch her breath, Sammy could take one look at lust blown pupils and tell that she was dangerously close to getting off. And she wasn’t the only one, he thought to himself. If she’d been grinding right against his cock and the way it strained against his jeans, he wasn’t entirely sure he could’ve stopped himself.

The little purple sundress she was wearing gave him easy access. He lowered his hand down, letting the tips of his fingers drag lazily over skin hidden away by the fabric of the flimsy little dress and then, exhaling sharply, he pulled her so that she was seated fully in his lap again, leaning back in and pulling her into another deep and dizzying kiss as he bucked against her from below a few times.

“Your place or my hotel room, baby girl?”

“My place.” Ginger managed to gasp against his neck as she danced her lips down the side, lowering her hand to tug at the waistband of clothing that was in her way and only frustrating her the more and more friction she managed to get just by rubbing herself over his cock. Her cunt was throbbing.

When they got back to her place, she wasn’t even entirely sure they were going to make it into the doorway. She couldn’t recall a time that she wanted anyone quite this badly to have her achy and dripping.

Sammy stood, not even bothering to untangle Ginger from his body. They stumbled out into the night, stopping several times to lean against walls and continue their heated kisses and touching.

–

The sun was shining bright through gauzy curtains and Sammy rolled over, burrowing into the cover until he realized that he wasn’t alone in bed. Brown eyes fluttered open and he yawned, smirking to himself as he sat there, watching her sleep for a few seconds before untangling the sheets from around himself and carefully moving her arm to rest flat against the bed again. He leaned down, brushing his forehead to her lips.

The hard part was having to leave. He was really kicking himself for not just approaching her earlier in the week.

He spotted a red lipliner pen and a napkin and he smirked to himself, leaving her a note.

Last night was the most fun I’ve had in a while, princess. But I don’t want this to be a one night thing, you feel me? I’m gonna leave my cell number. If you call, I’ll know I wasn’t imagining things and you felt something last night.

Sammy.

He tucked the napkin so that it stuck out beneath her phone and finished getting dressed, hoping she’d see it when she woke up, then he walked out, locking her front door behind her. It took him a few seconds to gather himself together but as he leaned against the brick wall of a little cafe a block over from her place, that smirk came easily and he knew he was going to be on pins and needles for a while.

Because she had to call… he couldn’t have been the only one to feel something the night before. He had this strong gut feeling she’d call. Now all he had to do was wait and see if his gut was right or wrong…

[ridiasfangirlings]

I read that massages can be very helpful to people with trauma as it helps relieve stress trapped in the body. So, Yata giving Fushimi a massage? Touching Fushimi's scar?

Sorry this took so long anon, but I was writing fic for you :D

    “Come on, Saruhiko, take your shirt off already.”

    “Tch. This is stupid.” Fushimi sat on the table with his arms crossed, body closed in and tense, the line of his shoulders held high as if he could keep Misaki out by body language alone. Yata sighed heavily, putting one hand to the side of his head.

    “Look, it'll help, all right? That King of yours said the muscles might tense up in your leg and that a massage could help.”

    “My leg. So you don't need me to take my shirt off. Since when do you know how to do a massage anyway?” Fushimi scoffed lightly, one hand falling down absently to brush against his upper thigh. Beneath the fabric of his pants he could feel the bandage still wrapped tightly around the wound that had not quite healed completely yet, a slowly growing scar. Two weeks had passed since he had returned from the depths of jungle and after a week of being told he needed to 'rest' he'd finally been allowed back on light duty to get some actual work done. His absence had clearly been felt at Scepter 4, judging by the mess that had greeted him when he'd arrived in the office, and he'd spent the last several days trying to get things sorted into something resembling sensible shape.

    He'd been living with Yata for most of those two weeks – a temporary arrangement, at least as far as he was concerned. They'd talked, but that was nothing. It didn't change the years that had come before, the things that had been said and done. Fushimi knew that, and he didn't expect things to be forgiven and forgotten.

    Yata seemed to have other ideas though, and navigating that was its own mess. And Fushimi, in his own way, was trying.

    But that didn't mean he had to consent to a massage, and he didn't know why he'd even nodded when Yata had brought the possibility up.

    “One of Chitose's friends showed me how to do some stuff a while back. You gotta stay loose in order to ride a skateboard, you know? What's wrong, you worried I'm gonna bruise your delicate skin or something?”

    There was a soft teasing edge to the words and Fushimi looked away with a huff.

    “Saruhiko, listen. You've been super stressed lately, right? Even an idiot like me can see it. Every time you come back from the Blues' place you look like you wanna stab someone. And I saw you limping! Just let me try to help, okay? If it's uncomfortable you can say so and I'll stop.”

    Fushimi glanced back from the corner of his eye, another refusal lingering on the tip of his tongue. Yata was staring at him with a look of not-quite-exasperation, like a parent trying to cajole a troublesome child and the expression couldn't help but stir old memories in the back of his mind, empty rooms and cold rain against the window – “If I was your mom I'd be totally pissed!”, pineapples in porridge – and Fushimi gave a sigh that he felt down to his bones.

    Maybe he hadn't changed at all, that he still wanted to call out even when he knew better. His leg was throbbing slightly but the pain in his back and shoulders was worse, his eyes sore from staring at a screen too long, a line of tension along his spine that made his whole body feel coiled like a spring. And here was Yata again, without being called, offering warm hands and easy smiles, and Fushimi still didn't know how to vocalize the things he wanted.

    Change, as if he could.

    “Fine.” Yata's entire face brightened at the word, so easily pleased by even the smallest of peace offerings. “But you had better be decent at this, Misaki.”

“Don't be such a worrywart, Saru!” Yata wound up one arm as if preparing to play baseball, a confident shine in his eyes. “You'll feel way better after this, trust me. It can't hurt to try anyway, right?”

    Fushimi clicked his tongue in reply and Yata rolled his eyes, still grinning.

    “So take off your shirt and lie down.”

    “You're going to do this on the kitchen table.” It was a flat statement, not a question, and Yata flushed slightly.

    “Hey, it's not like we have a massage table lying around! I put a towel down, it shouldn't be too hard on you.”

    “People eat on these things, Misaki.” Fushimi managed a mocking lilt to the last word, the sort of thing that only a month ago would have made Yata flinch to hear it, and the fact that it just made Yata smile wider now caused an odd sort of fluttering feeling in Fushimi's chest. Immediately he turned away and peeled off the layers of his uniform, coat and vest and shirt, feeling cold even though Yata's – their – apartment was kept as warm as he remembered. He'd wondered, too, when he'd agreed to move in, if Yata had always kept the place at just this temperature or if he'd turned up the heat as soon as Fushimi had given his consent to 'give it another try,' knowing how quickly Fushimi got cold.   

He hadn't been feeling quite that way lately, those old chills fading away in ways that Fushimi couldn't entirely understand. Things that changed, and things that didn't. Navigating temperature was a concern he hadn't considered, because he wasn't used to this sort of thing. He hadn't told Misaki that he'd gotten used to cold because Scepter 4 didn't have heat in the dorms, and he didn't know why he hadn't said anything when he could have at any time.

    Fushimi reached around and carefully unhooked the knife harness last, feeling naked without it even though he was still mostly clothed. He heard Yata make a sound like a cough and there was a flustered edge to his voice when he spoke.

    “So, um, go ahead and lie down. I'll start with your back.”

    Fushimi shrugged in agreement, not looking up – somehow he couldn't bring himself to take in Yata's expression right now, because his face was feeling hot again even though his torso was cold. He climbed onto the table, lying down on his stomach with his arms crossed beneath him and his chin resting on the back of his palms.

    “Well?” Yata was hesitating, and Fushimi clicked his tongue. “You were going to give me a massage, right, Misaki?”

    “G-give me a sec, okay!” Yata fumbled with a small pale pink bottle, unscrewing the lid and rubbing pearl white cream between his fingers. A scent like vanilla lingered in the air, slightly artificial, and Fushimi wrinkled his nose.

    “What is that?”

    “Um...massage cream? It's supposed to be good for your skin, and the scent's kinda...soothing, I guess? Anyway, it'll help with friction and stuff.”

    “How professional,” Fushimi said dryly and Yata gave a sheepish laugh.

    “Sorry I couldn't find anything that smelled like 'blood and flesh.'” Fushimi ducked his head and Yata gave a triumphant grin as he moved to position himself alongside Fushimi's back. Fushimi couldn't help but tense momentarily, waiting for the touch of those fingers on his skin, but Yata seemed to be wavering beside him.

    “Misaki...?” Fushimi murmured the word with his head still down, and he could see Yata's body jump slightly.

    “S-sorry.” There was a touch of fingers on his back, light at first and a slight cool shock from the massage cream, and then Yata pressed his palm into the small of Fushimi's back. “I just didn't...”

    “Didn't?” Fushimi prompted, when the silence had gone on too long.

    “Saruhiko...did you always have all of those...?” Fushimi could feel Yata's fingers dancing carefully over a thin line along his skin, where Fushimi knew a red band lay flat like a cattail across the width of his back. It dug into his sides and up along the shoulders, slightly burned in, and Yata's fingers followed the scar.

    “There wasn't time to adjust the harness.” Fushimi's voice was matter of fact, calm. He usually took the harness off to sleep, kept it oiled and clean, adjusted the fit as needed. But the last few months, doing his best to gather jungle points and then stepping right into the belly of the beast, it wasn't really all that surprising that he'd felt it necessary to leave it on even when he slept. The straps had begun digging in after a few weeks and he knew the scars wouldn't heal easily, but it was a sacrifice he'd been willing to make.

    It wasn't as if he'd held any illusions then anyway, as to his odds of surviving the mission. What were scars to a dead body, after all?

    “Saruhiko...” Yata's voice dug deep into him along with the press of his palm but he didn't say anything else, kneading at the skin, and Fushimi gave a soft hiss when he pressed too deep against one of the scars. “Sorry.”

    “It's fine.” Fushimi's voice was short and clipped. There was a ghost of hesitation in the air, as if Yata wanted to say more, but nothing came and Yata's fingers curled along his spine. Fushimi could almost imagine new scars growing there, small red marks in the form of Misaki's fingerprints, that would sink down inside and mark themselves on his bones.

    He didn't change, even after he'd burned everything and left it all behind. Misaki's touch still made him feel like he was on fire inside, no matter how much he tried to maintain ice in his veins.

    “Tell me if it hurts, all right? This is supposed to make you feel better, so...” Yata's hands grasped his shoulder blades that jutted sharp into Yata's palms. Fushimi shifted, lowering himself forward, mouth set in a line and silent as Yata put more cream on his hands and worked the vanilla scent into his skin. Yata's hands kneaded upwards, slightly rough, and Fushimi couldn’t help a small grunt. Yata paused for just a moment, obviously waiting for the order to stop, and then started again when no reply came.

    It felt...not bad, if Fushimi had to admit it. He could feel the callouses of Yata's hands against the scars and marks on his own back and Yata's movements weren't unpleasant – not entirely gentle but then that wasn't the sort of person Misaki was, Fushimi didn't expect any sort of gentle treatment. But it wasn't entirely rough either, careful in a way that seemed unlike Yata and yet perfectly suited to him at the same time, as if Yata was concentrating wholly on the pale back in front of him, doing his best to heal rather than hurt.

    The small of Fushimi's back began to itch and the vanilla scent was tickling his nose again, and Fushimi tried to keep his focus on the feeling of those hands on his back. This wasn't bad. It was... familiar, even though Yata had never done this for him before. But there was a closeness to it that reminded Fushimi too much of the old days, of falling asleep on each other's shoulders during a long bus ride, of cutting each other's hair, of bandaging each other's wounds after a fight. The sort of thing that made him want to relax even as it made him want to get up and run, the old fears burning through his veins again, warning him it wouldn't last.

    His chest itched, and Fushimi's fingers clenched slightly with the desire to scratch. The vanilla scent had turned acrid, into smoke and fire, and he took a steadying breath and tried to focus on Yata's touch.

    Nothing was going to burn. He had to try and believe that. If he didn't, he'd never move forward and he was trying, trying to be something more than what he'd always been. Fushimi took another deep breath, let the scent of the air linger in his nostrils. Vanilla, and Misaki.

“Saruhiko. Hey, Saru, you awake?”

    “Tch. As if I could fall asleep with the way you're manhandling my back.”

    “I told you to say if it hurt! Anyway, turn over.”

    “Why?” Fushimi tensed again, face buried sulkily in his arms. Lying on his stomach wasn't so bad, because he didn't have to look Misaki in the face.

    “So I can get your chest too. I told you, this'll help with the stress.”

    “Fine, fine.” Fushimi gave a heavy sigh, just to make certain Yata knew what a favor Fushimi was doing for him by following directions, and then propped himself up on his arms. There was a light draft across his bare back and the absence of Yata's fingers was somehow palpable. Fushimi swung his legs back over the edge of the table and then lay back down. The ceiling light above him seemed too bright and it made him feel light-headed as he leaned his head back.

    “Relax, okay?” He heard Yata shift, a step closer, and Fushimi kept still. One of Yata's hands touched the lower area of his stomach and Fushimi could tell by the searching of his fingers that Yata was feeling upwards towards the curves of his ribs. Fushimi risked a glance at him; Yata's brow was furrowed and his lips were pursed in clear disapproval of Fushimi's condition but he didn't say anything, just placed his other hand alongside the first and kneaded upward. The sensation was unexpected and Fushimi heard his own breath hiss between his teeth. Yata paused for just a moment, waiting again for the order to stop, but Fushimi kept his eyes averted and no order came. The hands moved again, further up, and then Yata stopped.

    “Misaki?” Fushimi glanced up at him again but Yata didn't even seem to notice. His gaze was pinned to Fushimi's chest, drawn there as if by a beacon, and his fingers had stopped moving just inches from the mess of mangled flesh that had once been the spot where his Homra tattoo had been clearly visible.

    “S-Saruhiko...” Yata looked up before Fushimi could look away and his face was painted with a hundred expressions that flitted by one by one – horror, concern, sadness (betrayal) – and Fushimi couldn't help but watch him. When Misaki felt something he felt it with his whole face, emotions written like a book across the arch of his eyebrows, pages between the downturned corners of his mouth that moved in a paragraph of harmony all together.

    Whenever he thought of Misaki it was always that sort of novel in Fushimi's head, wholly joy or wholly anger, betrayal, everything, Misaki showed it in every part of his expression. Fushimi had never been able to capture those words in his own face and so he returned Yata's look with a flat emptiness in his own expression, mouth a thin line of secrecy, sealed shut.

    “It doesn't hurt.” Lies still tasted bitter, even after all this time, but Fushimi was well used to bitterness. If it made Yata feel better, that made it fine.

    “It hurts.” The book of Yata's expression was scrawled dark with anger and something old and poisonous crawled up Fushimi's throat, the desire to laugh, to tease, to draw out all that fury onto his body. His skin felt tight, all the work Yata's hands had done loosening the strings undone and wound back into a spring, waiting to snap. “Dammit, Saruhiko, why....!” Yata shook his head and his fingers dug slightly into Fushimi's skin. The pain felt dull, like a blade.

    “It doesn't matter anymore, right?” They were past it. The scar was still there, ugly and red and ingrained in his body, disease in his blood, but they'd moved on. This was all that was left.

    “Yeah, it does!” Yata swallowed hard, one hand moving away from Fushimi's skin, hovering against Yata's own chest where Fushimi knew the twin to his own mark lay, untouched and clear. “Saruhiko....I know – we talked, and you explained and I mean, yeah, I kinda get it but – say I'm an idiot again, okay?” Yata took a deep breath, steadying himself with a maturity that shouldn't have been possible for Misaki (but then, Yata had changed too, hadn't he, when Fushimi wasn't looking). “Explain it to me in a way even I'll understand. Why did you do it?”

    “Why?” It was like bile in his mouth and Fushimi spat the words out as if trying to rid himself of a poison. “I had to. That was what changed everything.”

    “I know you didn't want stuff to change. But you didn't have to—you didn't have to hurt yourself!” Yata's words were choked and his eyes were shining as his fingers unconsciously traced the edges of the scar, and Fushimi felt lightheaded for a moment as he realized that the pain in Yata's voice wasn't the same as before, not the pain of a remembered betrayal – Misaki was concerned. For him.

“I didn't want it.” Dull words, like the mud dragging him down in his brain, and Fushimi leaned back to look up at the ceiling. “This thing...” He clicked his tongue, disgusted. “You said it, right? Our pride. Homra's pride. So I didn't want it.”

    “Homra's...” The word slowly died on Yata's lips, and Fushimi heard the rustle of fabric as the line of Yata's shoulders tensed and he leaned in. “Is—is that what you thought I...? I wasn't talking about Homra, you idiot!”

    “What else would you be talking about?” Fushimi clicked his tongue again, raising himself up on his arms so he could look Yata in the face. “Suoh Mikoto's pride. If that was the important thing to you, I wanted to burn it. The pride that took my place, I didn't need anything like that.”

    “I meant our pride.” Yata's face was turned down and his fingers trembled on Fushimi's skin. Fushimi stared at him and suddenly Yata looked up again, eyes wide, face filled with an emotion that made Fushimi's chest feel tight enough to cut off any breath he could draw. “It was ours. You and me, Saruhiko.”

“Don't lie.” Fushimi threw the words back at Yata, even though he knew that Misaki couldn't lie to save his life.

    “I'm not lying!” Yata leaned forward and Fushimi almost fell back, their faces too close for his liking even though Yata's hand had been on his chest all this time. “Listen, Saruhiko....yeah, it meant Homra's pride for a while, because you were gone. But when we got these – okay, it was cool having something Mikoto-san gave me, something that would always be here. Yours too, though – Kusanagi-san said it, right? No one else had these in the same place. Just you and me, we're the only ones who matched. And it was like – like even the Red power was saying it, that yeah, Saruhiko and I are meant to be together forever. Sometimes when I put my hand on it I felt like I could hear your heartbeat, you know? Like this was something that was sending my thoughts to you, that you could feel me and I could feel you. When I said all that stuff when you – that time in the alley, about this being our pride, I meant us. You and me. For me – for me, this always meant you and me first.”

    Yata was looking at him so intently now, that open book scrawled across his face, every feeling, no lies, no artifice, no trying to make him feel better. Just Misaki's face, feeling everything, and Fushimi's eyes slid to where Yata's other hand was pressed again his own clothes, right above Homra's mark.

    “Anthill. It was an anthill.” Fushimi didn't expect Yata to understand that when he hadn't explained anything about it yet – he'd explained things, sure, and they'd talked, but there were things Fushimi held close to his chest still, as if he was afraid letting them go would let all the cracks inside of him burst and everything would come spilling out like a flood, leaving him empty.

    He'd destroyed it because destroying this precious thing would hurt Yata the most.

    He'd destroyed it because destroying this precious thing would hurt himself the most, so he would never forget that he couldn't have anything precious.

    Yata leaned back anyway, and nodded. There was a shadow in his eyes as looked at Fushimi's scar, the hand moving away from his own chest to hover over Fushimi's mark again, not quite touching, and Fushimi wondered if somehow Yata had understood the thing he couldn't bring himself to explain in words.

    100 points.

    “You can touch it.” The words came out before he realized, and Fushimi leaned back again.

    “Huh?” Yata blinked, glancing over at him.

    “A massage needs to get everything, right?” Fushimi's words were clipped and he kept his face averted, as if he was only talking sense. “If you need to touch it for that, go ahead.”

    He could feel Yata's eyes on him, surprised, and then Yata licked his lips and nodded.

    “Tell me if I hurt you at all, okay?”

    “You won't.” The scar still hurt sometimes, itched and burned even in open air, and Fushimi's own fingers well knew the best ways to bring out those sharp stings of pain. But Misaki's hands weren't his own, and Fushimi knew this touch wouldn't bring him pain, not anymore.

    The touch was slow and hesitant at first, entirely unlike the Misaki who always ran headfirst into everything. It was careful and fluttering, as if Yata was pressing his fingers against the throat of a baby bird, an awkwardness that spoke of someone trying to keep their own strength in check. Yata's fingers traced the edges of the scar, mapping the corners of the burnt flesh. Fushimi didn't flinch and that seemed to make Yata bolder, moving his fingers along the old traces of the Homra mark that were still there – still there, would always be there, a reminder of something dead and gone, a past that he'd tried to throw away but which remained even so. It felt alive under Misaki's hands, burning in a way it hadn't for years and Fushimi could almost hear it in his ears: a heartbeat, matching his own, skipping beats as those fingers kneaded against the charred mess of his skin, gentle, soft massaging circles, and it wasn't anything like pain.

    “Saruhiko...?” Yata's voice sounded worried and Fushimi turned to meet his gaze.

    “Keep going.” Yata's heart was beating wild – or maybe it was his own, or maybe both in the same time, and he wondered if Misaki could still feel it as his hands worked along the scar. His other hand matched the motions on Fushimi's other side, one hand against the scar and one against unbroken flesh, each with the same slow reverent touch, Yata's hands tracing patterns down his sides and back up again. Fushimi's breath caught in his throat and he felt rather than heard Yata's do the same, heartbeat stuttering a staccato beat against his ribs, Yata's fingers pressing in along the old scar. It might have been pain but he couldn't feel it that way now, not against Misaki's fingers – Misaki's hands weren't his own, Misaki's fingers weren't here to tear at that flesh until bled. Misaki's hands were searching, curious, careful, mindful of his feelings when even Fushimi himself tried to pretend they didn't exist, and his back arched slightly up from the table as Yata continued his slow careful exploration of Fushimi's skin.

The vanilla scent lingered in the air again, and Fushimi sneezed.

    “Saruhiko?” Yata's motions slowed and then ceased, and Fushimi thought Yata's face looked slightly red. Fushimi's own face felt hot and he dismissed it as a side effect from staring up at the ceiling light so long.

    “Are you done?” He hadn't expected the hoarseness of his own voice.

    “Huh? Oh, y-yeah, I think so!” Yata jumped slightly, shifting as if he was a child hiding a secret. “Did...was it okay? Do you feel any better now?”

    Fushimi sat up slowly, one hand going reflexively towards the scar on his chest and then moving away – somehow it felt like it wasn't his own hand that he wanted to touch that spot now, not anymore.

    “It was...fine.”

    “Oh. Um, good? Here, you can put your clothes back on, I'll start cleaning up here...” Yata turned away to screw the top back onto the bottle of massage cream as Fushimi swung his legs over the side of the table. It was definitely his own heart that wouldn't stop pounding but he could feel the echo of Misaki's too, like a song in his ears, one that he hadn't heard in a long time but still knew all the words to.

    “Misaki...” Fushimi pressed the back of his hand against his mouth, hunched his shoulders and the let out a slow breath between his teeth.

    Change, right?

    “Yeah?”

    “....Thanks.”

    Yata's head whipped around to look at him, eyes wide, and this time Fushimi didn't look away. A slow smile spread over Yata's face and up to his eyes, like sunlight creeping across a plain, and Yata laughed.

    Fushimi's skin was still tingling all over with the memory of Yata's touch, and it didn't take even a moment's thought for Fushimi to smile back.    

Buy me a coffee?

[imasimpforstevengrant]

I feel you

Author's note:

@raven-romanoff

@maristela1968

For you again, lovelies!

This is the first smut I write after almost two years. I hope you like it!

As always, sorry for any typos. English is not my first language.

____________________________________

Summary: Follow up to "I understand you".

As his strange relationship with Harleen oscillates between friendship and desire, Arthur takes the things to another level.

Warnings: angst, self hatred, mentions of masturbation, swearing, house breaking, strong sexual themes and smut.

Words: 6.258

Part 1:

Part 2:

____________________________________

Arthur couldn't sleep that night. His mind, overtaken by a growing confidence, tormented with new feelings for her created a dark, devilish smile in his face. He closed the door carefully, taking off his hoodie, shirt and shoes, wearing only sweatpants around the house, smoking a cigarette. He sat on the couch, knees bouncing. Something in his chest burns. That night Arthur felt different. He felt sure of his actions, instead of the usual anxiety and fear. Replaying the wonderful moment which he was the protagonist of, savoring every detail, while directing to the table. Her voice echoed through his head, her smile painting across his memory, the way she looked at him. His feet weren't able to keep still and Arthur knew this hyperventilation was caused by the shock of his first intimate contact with a woman. He already planned what he would do once they'd meet again. Probably to take her to dinner or simply going to the playground with a coffee and cigarettes to spend the night talking.

Handing himself his treasured journal, Arthur searched for the section dedicated to her. Grabbing a pen, he wrote her name. Misspelled, but affectionately.

Harlen Quenzel.

He tried in vain to write anything else, because his mind clouded basking in a bliss he had never felt before.

The blinding white light coming from above the kitchen hindered the happy replay of the image of Harleen coming closer to him to kiss his lips. But he simply turned it off. The tips of his fingers touched the dry flesh blessed by her mouth. Lighting a cigarette he fantasizes now. Taking her in the floor, in the bedroom or in the couch... She would love it. Arthur guaranteed himself that. The proof was clear: she had enjoyed his sudden and explosive display of passion. He suppressed a chuckle, afraid of another fit of laughter. But it did not go further. He stood in the dark for a while, before going to the couch to try to get some sleep. His mind was way too excited to even hold his legs still. The lucky loner grabbed the pack of cigarettes, smoking another one immediately after finishing the other one. Thing was, he couldn't consummate his passion in this moment... But he certainly could let his mind fly by thinking about Harleen and her virtues for now. Arthur headed to the bathroom.

A little joy given by himself wouldn't be so bad. ________________________________________

Over the next two months, the strange relationship between Arthur and Harleen grew from a friendship that had frequent outbursts of passion to long hours of talking about anything, from work to jokes.

As much as Arthur felt a silently uncontrollable lust for Harleen, he truly felt affection and caring for her. This was shown in small gestures like inviting her to dinner or waiting up late when her shift was over whenever neither of them would spend the entire night sleeping. They had each other and it was okay with that. In was in these situations where their bond grew. It was so ironic that the one thing that prevented an actual rest to his tormented mind also allowed to have the closest and most meaningful relationship he ever had in his life.

Arthur became more introverted than he already was. He didn't talk too much at work and had the growing tendency to isolate from others. To his co-workers this was probably another demonstration of his deteriorated mental state but Arthur was too busy trying to cope with these new feelings. He was asked more than once about this but he avoided to answer, limiting to reply he was okay. At the end of the day, the party clown left with a anxious pace. His co-workers were sure Arthur had finally lost his mind. And in some way, he did. Why was he in a rush? They would never know.

It was saturday when things changed. Arthur came back from a gig to Haha's with his clown make up on. Once in, he cleaned it from his face to leave without saying anything afterwards, too withdrawn into his daydreaming. He set a foot into the bus, as always, facing the window. The lights of daylight disappeared into the darkness or the night, rain pouring out. Arthur shielded from the cold sinking into his partly tattered hoodie. By this hour, Harleen should have been in her workplace. He just hoped no one would harm her at the time of her return. Arthur thought he could wait for her at the building's entrance, making sure she was safe. Harleen would like it.

He thought this weekend would be different. And Arthur had a very good reason why.

_________________________________________

It was Sunday when Arthur got up early to clean the house and to prepare breakfast for Penny to feed during the first lights of day.

It was in this way he could focus completely on his upcoming date at night. As the day vanished for nighttime to arrive, he put a cheap cologne on, his pants perfectly ironed. Same with the shirt and red vest. And the usual yellow hoodie Harleen learned to love so much. His excitement reflected in his voice as he waved goodbye to his always distracted mother, who simply waved back, not interested on how much brighter Arthur's eyes were in that moment. Heading to the door, he heard a frustrating ask:

"Happy, can you put this letter in the box?"

His shoulders lose strength. Arthur tried his best to hide his annoyance.

"It's for Thomas Wayne".

"I know, mom", the whisper was almost inaudible. Returning to the living room, he took the letter gently just to jump back to the door to free himself, "I'll be back at night".

She just nodded. And he finally breathed his freedom, feeling more confident than ever. But his sense of victory over the world vanished as he realized he still had that fucking letter in hand. A tired sigh leaves his lips. But he ran as fast as possible to reach the first floor to get rid of the piece of useless attempt to get attention from a man who maybe didn't remember her. The rusty locker received it and Arthur at last could set a foot outside the building, crossing his arms.

Harleen arrived a few seconds later. Arthur smiled, coming closer to her. Her outfit was unpretentious but neat: black pants and sneakers, a red wool sweater. Her hair was done into two colourful buns and a few strands which fell into her face. But the thing he liked the most was that blood red lipstick... And her grin made it better.

"Hello, clown man", Harleen nuzzled his nose tenderly. It was an habit he loved from her, as any other touch. He chuckled, greeting her back. Then both got out of the building, leading to the donut shop so they could have coffee and toast.

"So, how was your week?", Harleen asked as Arthur held his cup, drinking the steamy hot liquid.

"It was fine. I had a gig in a children's hospital. It turned out great because it was a charity event".

"Really?"

"Yeah. They were... Getting money for families that cannot afford to pay treatments".

Harleen nodded, warming her hands with the mug. Arthur then returned the question. Harleen told him the bar had more regulars than usual. This caught her eye, and paid very much attention to it during the weekly shift.

"What is it?".

"People are drinking their souls out" she replied, after eating her toast, "and that's not all. There was a recently fired guy that feared if Wayne is elected mayor, unemployment and riots will get worse."

Arthur lowered his head. He ate the toast to state:

"Why do so many people believe in that man, anyway?"

"He's rich, successful and an entrepreneur. Men like him have no idea how to run a city for the simple fact that entrepreneurs like him see people as numbers, not as complex sentient beings."

"How come?", Arthur fixed his collar.

"They only care for economy, Arthur. They disregard the fact that not everyone has the same chances for success they had and therefore any help for impoverished people is nothing but a "waste of money". Wayne is convinced that everyone who receives any kind of welfare doesn't want to work." Arthur remained silent for a while, processing what she just said.

"Men like him will never know what is like to be someone like you or me", Harleen concluded, finishing her coffee.

"But at least we have our jobs" Arthur commented comically.

"Yeah, as long as we get paid" and both laughed.

The shop was almost empty, which made easier to listen to the radio while talking. This gave them more topics to talk about. But then a song came out. Arthur knew it, he closed his eyes, engulfing himself in the gloomy tune of the song:

"King of all

Hear me call

Hear my name

Carnival"

Harleen did not interrupt. She understood that Arthur, as an extremely introverted person, couldn't be interrupted when exploring, talking or listening. It was pleasant to see him glad or enjoying things for once. She smiled as he mouthed the lyrics, which he knew perfectly. As the song came to an end, Harleen extended her hand, eyeing Arthur to look for his approval. As much as he enjoyed the sudden outbursts of affection, Arthur still wasn't used to publicly show it. Harleen comprehended as well and wouldn't force him to do it. She discovered it when going back from a previous date when she just held his hand. He became a blushing mess but it didn't go further, thank goodness.

Arthur noted the hand whose black and red nail polish established a hurtful contrast in comparison to her light skin. He then looked at her. He slid his own towards Harleen's. Their hands intertwined. Another little touch and he was already yearning for her. Arthur wanted to love her without words, without distance between them. Just the two of them. He wanted so much to tell her, but didn't dare to. Despite the fact he adored her, there was something he could never tell her... Yet.

There was something Arthur loathed about himself but he did his best to not to give it too much importance, choosing to focus on other things, instead. Arthur Fleck was a man and as such, he had needs. But the need wasn't the problem. Satisfying it was. He was comprehensive enough to understand that motherly affection was the closest thing he ever had to love. Devoid of any bond with anyone else, he frequently masturbated to soothe the sexual need. Usually to porn magazines whose pages he tore up to stick them in his journal. A fulfilling sexual life was a dream, far away from his reach. He could only see it but never take part in it, as it was with everything in his life. An eternal spectator, never a protagonist. Thinking of her, lusting after her... And he wasn't able to even mutter a fucking word. He cursed the emptiness roaming during all his life. Because he had nothing to offer her except desire. His inexperience was never a problem, given his surrender to embrace a life of solitude. Until now. Her arrival to his life made him remember how much of a man he was. And her kindness just fanned the fire within him.

Harleen squeezed his hand a little more, noting his unsettled nerve. Arthur sighed, out of the gloomy, bleak storm that creeped out as a dark mist in his mind. But her face shines as a small light of hope. Her eyes promised so many good things that he couldn't bring himself to believe.

"What's troubling you, Mr. Fleck?" her smile was accomplice, as if she knew what was lurking into the labyrinth of his mind, but wanting to hear it from his mouth.

"I just... I was thinking about...", Harleen encouraged him to tell her. He inhaled deeply, lighting a cigarette to cope with the newfound stress. Once again, his everlasting negative thoughts clouded the moment. The vocal cords were unresponsive. His hand broke contact with hers to hold his forehead, looking for the right words to speak. His knees bounced. Harleen leaned in, waiting.

"Artie?"

The tender pronunciation of the diminutive form of his name turned his gaze to her.

"I think I prefer to tell you... In private".

Harleen nodded. The response sounded too dark. And she knew that if Arthur talked like that, it was something serious. They left the donut shop, walking towards the subway. It was almost empty and dark. Just a few people were on it. The couple sit down, with Harleen tangling the arm around his to tilt her head on his shoulder. Arthur kept his eyes on the window, trying to figure out how the fuck he'd tell her about it.

As they reached the last stop, they left the subway station to step up the stairs and then Arthur reached a dirty, dark public restroom surrounded on the outside of a fence. Both stopped for a moment before the gnawed door. Harleen looked up to the party clown's dark features. He pronounced no words.

"Arthur?"

"There's something I need to tell you", his murmur comes shy, cast down.

"What is it?"

He stepped away from her. His hands clasp his mouth, disapproving his thoughts. He shook his head, eyes shut. Circling his own personal space, lightheaded. Harleen came closer to him.

"Is it bad?"

Arthur glared at her, guilty.

"I mean... I don't know how to tell you. I just hope you don't laugh at me".

"Why would I do that?".

Arthur half opened his eyes.

"I want...", It took a long, deep inhalation to pronounce the first part. He coughed, to clear his throat seconds later, "I need to tell you... That I really like you... And--", he silenced his words, trying to put them correctly in his mind.

"And?"

"See" he sighed, "I've..."

Harleen widened her eyes in anticipation.

"I've been thinking about you a lot... and I would be lying if I tell you I don't want something else".

"What is 'something else'?" Harleen whispered.

Arthur processed the question. And then answered:

"It's just..." He brushed the small beads of sweat on his forehead with the palm of his hand, "I love the way you touch me, Harleen" Arthur continued, "and I simply can't get enough of it".

"Because we both need it, Arthur. I love just as much as you do. That makes it so satisfying", he chuckled, humbled. Harleen expected more of him.

"That's not all", he gazed not to her. This was the one moment that could end it all or strengthen this precious bond of theirs.

"Arthur" she called him, "don't be afraid. Please tell me".

"I want to sleep with you", Arthur finally confessed, gazing at her. His eyes confirmed the statement. He blinked slowly, wanting her to see the animalistic yearn on them.

Harleen stared at him, shocked of how much he trusted her to confess something so intimate. His breathe had shortened. His green eyes glowed like emeralds, embellished even more with his pupils dilated. The blonde invited him inside the bathroom so they could keep baring their souls. Arthur inspected the place to make sure it was completely safe to stay there. Harleen locked the door once they knew it was unoccupied.

"I don't want to beg for love" Arthur said, his voice raspy, "but I don't want to lie to you. I want to know if you feel the same" Arthur spoke in a very low voice. Harleen looked at him, infatuated before this new dark vibe from him. He looked like a totally different person. Her fingers slid into his curls.

"I knew it already, Arthur."

"And why doesn't it bother you?"

"Because I can understand why you want it".

Arthur turned to her. Never in his life he felt more expecting. Harleen explained, in very simple terms, that she found his attachment understandable: Arthur had been deprived of love during all his life and this new bond made him feel important. From becoming visible and cared for to reaffirm his manhood through sexual desire. Arthur heard every word carefully, and it made sense. Everything made fucking sense. It was through sexual intercourse that men felt loved.

Love.

It was always about love, at the end of all.

Harleen returned the cigarette to him.

"Don't blame yourself. You're a human, after all. Sex is the most pleasant of human activities, so don't feel bad for enjoying it".

"It's not that I don't enjoy it. I don't feel ready to do it, despite of how much I want it".

Harleen frowned, and her silence just made Arthur confess one of his most (if not the most) shameful secrets. Only now she knew the extent of her impact in his life. She knew a lot about him, including the seven medications he was in, but this? She had been aware of the way he looked at her, but hearing him actually admitting it out loud made her shudder. Her arms locked around his shoulders to pull Arthur to a kiss in the cheek.

"It's not a race or a competition. You just feel and act according to your instincts. Also, I'd be lying too if I said I don't want anything else" Arthur sank his eyes into Harleen's, "quite frankly, we were close to have sex the night we first talked if it wasn't because I was too tired to do so, but now, if you don't feel ready to do it, I won't pressure you to do anything".

"Starting a friendship in that way? I like it" he hummed, mischievous.

"We are not friends... Because... Friends are not supposed to touch each other. That's what lovers do. But... We aren't lovers, yet" Harleen whispered.

"Then what are we?" Arthur asked.

"We are, Arthur. We simply are" this time her kiss directed to his mouth. _________________________________________

Arthur changed his damp clothes to avoid the cold. The bedroom TV was turned on as well as the hall lights. The usual. He prepared the dinner for his mother, bathing her and making sure she'd go to bed. The conversation was the same. Thomas fucking Wayne and the fucking letters. Arthur had no interest on losing energy on nonsense, so he only nodded. He took a shower and shaved the growing beard and wore his grey sweatpants. A few observations written in the pages of the journal about his day at Haha's and Arthur felt his routine was finished, therefore he could count down to the moment when Harleen was back at home from work. His eyes darted at the clock. 1:14 am. Less than two hours for her return. He felt confident enough to go to her apartment and stay all night with her. He smoke five cigarettes in the meantime, walking over the house. Turning the TV on so time wouldn't pass so long. He sat at the couch, waiting for an old rerun of Murray Franklin's Show. An actor was to be interviewed but he couldn't focus entirely on it. He laid down. His mind pictured her beside him. However, as much as he cherished all the physical and emotional affection from her, it wasn't enough anymore. It was hard to accept it but that's just the way it was. As the show ended, an old movie ran. Arthur turned the device off. The clock sets the time: 2:24 am. Less than hour. He got up, turning the lights off, hoodie in hand and determination in his mind. Locking the door, Arthur left. He walked across the halls, stepping down to the destination: 7H. The door was unlocked, much to his surprise. The loner felt truly in home. If only she was in there for him to shower her in his affection. But he then realized the neon lights were on. His heart skipped a beat. The air seemed... Different. He stood as quiet as possible to see what was going on. The rain slightly broke the total silence that ruled the place. Arthur reached the living and then, only then, he saw her.

Harleen was placidly sleeping on the couch, wearing a two part, peach coloured pajamas. Her mane was a mess of white, blue and pink strands that fell over her face. Her head rested on a pillow and her pose revealed how comfy her sleep was. Kneeling beside the couch, Arthur leaned over her face, his fingers set aside the colourful mane to obtain the beautiful vision of her peaceful facial expression. His thumb glided over her lips, which he soon joined with his. It was slow, intimate kiss, full of subtle hunger.

Seconds later, her hands cupped his face to make the caress steadier, humming playfully. Arthur broke the kiss to eye her. Half sleep, Harleen smiled at him.

"Hey" he called, secretive.

"Good night, Mr. Fleck", she muttered, voice pasty, "another insomnia night?" but he shook the head.

"I thought you weren't here. I couldn't help it", he muttered.

“Never said I mind. Bar closed earlier and here I am”.

“Really? Why?”

“The riots, Arthur. Boss preferred to send us home before any damage could be done by the protesters”.

Arthur made room for himself in the cozy, fluffy long couch. Asking if she was okay, Harleen just replied she took a taxi to make home safely. Arthur sighed, relieved. The blonde smiled at him but didn’t move any further. He noticed that, blaming for being so inconsiderate. Getting into her apartment and disturbing her rest like that? What a awful friend (lover) he was! Recoiling with guilt and diving again in the brooding mood so typical on him, he distanced from his love. She fell asleep once more. Arthur kept his gaze on her, tracing invisible touches in her curves. She was so close yet so far. He wanted to be a part of her, to be with her.

Inside of her.

The calloused fingers held his face to wash away the shame. The nerves were too much to take. The laugh gestated in a noise initially deaf to hear from afar to a thunderous fit. Harleen jolted at the sudden outburst. Arthur couldn’t feel worse. The expression on his face was so desperate for silence that the blonde immediately went after him when he shrugged, attempting in vain to drown the horrible noise that made his vocal cords bleed. Harleen dissuaded Arthur of any idea of escape just to hold him. The mentally ill loner sank his face into her neck. The embrace didn’t stop the scandalous explosion to keep shattering the quietness of the place, sensing Harleen squeezed his faint figure, seemingly trying to put every piece of his broken yet beautiful soul to help to soothe the pain.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—“

Her voice hushed his apologize. As the din disappeared into nothingness, both returned to the living room on the couch but Arthur took a step back from her.

“Why?”

Puzzled, Harleen frowns. She gave him space to recover.

“Why what?”

“Why me?”, Arthur regained strength to ask her, staring at her for a long period of time, “of all men you can have, why me?”

For the first time, Harleen seemed upset.

“If you think I do this out of pity, you are very, very wrong” the fire in her eyes was fascinating.

“Then why?”

Harleen processed the question while Arthur desperately awaited the reason to be verbalised.

“Please”.

She gulped.

“Because you’re a good man, Arthur”.

The response was too simple to be believable, though it was grateful to hear a compliment from her. Desiring more, his stare pierced her soul, to let her take the hint. Imprisoned under the green spell of his, Harleen proceeded to continue:

“I mean- you are always trying to make people laugh, yet people don’t see you and you still continue. You love what you do, you have been kind to me, you care about your mother putting your well-being aside. Don’t you think that is worth enough?”

Arthur shut his eyes, his head to the left, lighting a cigarette while the bouncing knee betrayed his feeling of unsettlement. Harleen noticed it. Wind took words away. Actions prevailed in time.

Time! That’s precisely what he needed. Both battled uneasiness in their own, unique way. While Harleen on her own end of the couch thought on a way to help him, Arthur tried to give order to his convulsed mind. He constantly touched his forehead and chest but never dared to eye her, terrified that she would vanish. The damn cigarette placed again on his lips. The muteness grew so uncomfortable the loner returned to glare at the blonde. She slowly approached to him, searching in his face his approval to get closer. Afraid to disturb his personal space in the same way someone would be cautious when getting closer to a wild animal. Arthur gasped, his blood boiling in what seemed the exact moment that would define his life. Harleen crawled to him, reaching his shoulders to concrete her goal: sit in the space between his legs.

If Arthur believed that just a hug put him on fire, this new contact aroused him to the point of insanity. The blonde crowned the physical bond placing her head in the crook of his neck. The temptation to take her and possess her now was insufferable but he found the will to not give in into the impulsive reaction. How? He’d never know. His heart rate was so violent, so overwhelming that the threat of a heart attack was becoming more real. Harleen placed her hand on his chest, like caressing his damaged heart like a mother would do with an scared child. His lungs finally caught a calmer rhythm as minutes went by. Arthur craved new touches, new discoveries, yet he wanted to remain like this forever. He savoured the closeness of their bodies… but it wasn’t enough. Harleen surely knew it by the moment Arthur stopped smoking.

And whenever Arthur Fleck stopped smoking, it meant something serious got his attention.

As the last fire on the cigarette died on the ashtray, Arthur turned his focus completely on her. He’d return her the favour, since she invaded his personal space so shamelessly. Harleen distanced a bit from him to allow the hoodie to come off. She approved the sight with a wide smirk: despite what people could say about his figure, Arthur was not as thin as his outfit revealed. His bare upper body had a plenty of muscle in the biceps. She traced a finger across the aforementioned part to touch his jawline now, going down his neck and collarbone. Next, a nuzzle against his face to continue the intimate bond, brushing her lips with his, without kissing him. However there was no further reaction from him except for a serene look on his face at the caresses. As the touch came to an end, she kissed his mouth repeatedly, her lips curved into a smile. The gesture motivated his instinct to get the better of him. He rose his dark, thick eyebrow to let her know how much of an accomplice he turned out to be, like a warning of what he had planned for her.

It was almost a ritual. Whenever a situation turned out to be too unfamiliar or too good, his hands would act as the link to confirm his psyche wasn't playing tricks with him. But this wasn't only a situation. This was a person who unchained a situation. And how he thanked every second of it. It seemed a spark of happiness enlightened his life, for once. Probably because even fate believed that no human being should be so miserable. He needed a constant reaction from her to keep convincing himself this wasn’t a dream. To increase the enjoyment of his hands touching her, Arthur executed a move directed to her chest, gliding his hands over her breasts, covered by the thin fabric of the sleeveless shirt. Harleen gasped, eyeing the curious hands as they roamed upon that delicate part of her. Arthur was fascinated, as his grin evidently brought out.

Since he had understanding about sex, Arthur craved a woman’s touch. It began as wet dreams, continuing with the subsequent discover of porn, a source he always went to in order to provide himself a little satisfaction. He remembered the particularly unhappy time of highschool, where bullying and harsh looks were a routine. The laughing fits during class, boys from all ages mocking at him during recess. But lunchtime was the worst part. If he wasn’t beaten up, his food paid the price. Starving and tired, Arthur was relieved in part by dropping school. He wouldn’t have to deal with the brutality of his classmates anymore. Girls usually avoided him, scared by his weak appearance. He never asked a girl for a date, afraid to be taken as a pervert. He just repressed any sexual need, feeling like a depraved creep for being curious about female body.

The mental drift continued for a couple of minutes when he noticed that Harleen wasn’t too quiet now, her shortened breath revealing an intense joy at his touch. As it happened always in a moment of adrenaline, through his arms an herculean strength ran so intensely that made her sit on his lap with no problem. The most exciting part of this new bold position was that he could face his lover, aiming his interest to her neck, covering it with slow, paused kisses. Harleen supports on his shoulders, delighted at his intimate exploration. Her shortened breath became a heavy panting while the latter morphed into a loud moan. Arthur immediately looked up to the blonde, her mane tickling his face. Did he caused such wonderful reaction? Him? Arthur Fleck, the perpetual loser, the unfunny clown, the embodiment of what a man should never be?

Suddenly, the grip loosened. Arthur felt he couldn’t concentrate anymore on Harleen in the same way. A sensation similar to fainting snatched away the energy on his arms. A surge of boiling blood flowed down his groin.

Arthur knew what this meant and her thighs straddling his hips, exactly where his searing intimacy reacted to such delectable recreation.

This encouraged him to let his wildest side come out. The pale hands lifted the shirt to the level of her neck, obtaining her bare chest to devour while getting into the inner part of the shirt, leaving the barrier between skin and fabric behind his back. Harleen reared up before the fulminant demonstration of lust, screaming while clawing at his shoulders. She felt his mouth, eager and famished, assiduously paying dedication to her soft sinuosities. The position enabled her to coddle him as well.

Because he fucking deserved it.

Her fingers stirred the dark curls under the cloth, begging for more. When Arthur felt the arousal was too much to keep building it up to simple caresses, he threw the shirt aside to obtain her upper nude body to admire. His eyes widened as the glimpse was even more beautiful in reality than in his fantasies. He hummed, approving the sight, too anxious to take her and yet so insecure if she’d be satisfied.

The blonde tugged into his belt, making clear her desire to pursue a deeper insight of their relationship. Her body performed a subtle movement to make him lay down on his back. As Arthur got rid of his clothes, so she did. Once she reached her own full nudity, he covered his mouth, amazed. Forget the models in his journal. Harleen had no comparison. And she probably knew it.

“Do you like what you see, mister Fleck?” she purred, seductive. He panted, regaining the oxygen to answer.

“Yes” was all he answered. Arthur could hardly speak at this point. His eyes said everything, anyway. The tease was a gift before the beloved blonde climbed atop him. Arthur helped her, grabbing her by the hips he longed so much to trace his fingers on.

Harleen leaned over his face to grant it a last kiss, enjoying this final step preceding to the loss of individuality.

She seemed so unreal, even when her full weight upon him proved wrong. And he knew exactly what to do to prove his psyche otherwise.

The last trace of doubt disappeared completely as his own sex found itself inside of her at last. The insertion was very slow, no rushes, so both lovers could memorize every sensation. The pressure around his hardened length turned out to be a pleasure beyond the thinkable, causing a shuddering, fastened breath to crumple his lungs. He arched his back, a loud, pleasurable moan escaping his mouth. As he got used to the warm welcome she gave him, his hands held her hips to proceed. Harleen lolled her head back, moaning softly, rejoicing at his presence inside of her delicate womanhood. Stillness held their bodies together as they enjoyed the sensation brought by the union.

Arthur recovered from the initial shock before the long desired loss of his hated celibacy started to take place. Harleen, naked much to the delight of his eyes, had her white, porcelain skin beautifully shaded by the pink and blue dim neon lights. Arthur smirked at her, admiring her body with his hands, not to convince himself that he was not hallucinating but to make sure to tell her how much he had desired to do this.

Just then Harleen did her magic.

“Let me show you that you’re not invisible”.

The rhythm worked in a slow pace. The blonde’s masterful moves made him moan and groan loudly as she straddled his hips. Everything he imagined with her appalled in comparison to this. Harleen, so provocative and prodigious, was so delicate in this erotic surrender. Like almost floating in the air. Arthur wondered how much it could take until reaching the peak of the carnal pleasure. But the obnoxious thud that beat his brain even in this moment found itself defeated by this lovely and pleasurable novelty, eventually. Watching Harleen on top of him was an irresistible landscape and Arthur couldn’t be more grateful for it even if he tried.

And her moans didn’t help either. Harleen was too lost in the moment to even talk to him, restricting her vocal expressions of pleasure just to plead for more.

Arthur plunged in this novelty to feel like a man for the first time in his life. He chuckled, joyful. His concentration centered exclusively on her. Harleen was a living mess of ecstasy, away from reality. He couldn’t love her more, specially when she called his name. The grip on her hips became tighter, as the warm space that surrounded his arousal narrowed. Her moans arose to louder screams. Now that was something he wanted to hear, sliding his fingers up to her waist to her chest.

The sense of control began to disappear eventually.

The instigation inspired a new move from Arthur, who got up to enclose her waist to absorb her essence. Fastening the moves, the blonde threw her arms to his neck, increasing the union as much as they were able. Their screams echoed through the apartment, announcing the proximity of the climax.

The final frenzy took ahold of the lovers. It hit Harleen first, as the convulsion whipped her insides, her figure trembling.

Arthur was convinced his soul was living his body at the time of his climax. While Harleen allowed him to flood her with his seed, he held her hips to keep inside her the longest time possible. The passionate, fulfilling embrace that served as the conclusion to the act recomposed their sense of reality. Once the physical bond was broken, the lovers laid back in the couch. Arthur still had a hard time recovering from his first sexual experience. His lungs finally eased down as Harleen reassuringly talked to him. Arthur opened his eyes, to smile to her.

“That…” he stuttered, breathless, “that… was… fucking sensational”.

Harleen supported her head in her hand.

“Couldn’t agree more”.

Arthur smiled and didn’t resist the temptation to sink into her arms, awaiting for sleep to come. He gave himself in completely, handing his vulnerability to her. Harleen sighed, palming his back. Arthur recoiled in pain and she didn’t hesitate to apologize.

“What’s this?” Harleen was going to get up to check him out but he prevented it, shaking his head. Apparently it didn’t have too much importance for him.

“I want this” his whisper sounded legitimately grateful. He took her hands to kiss them dearly, “I want this”.

She nodded and then changed her position so Arthur could place himself upon her. Her open arms received his fragile, starving shape to grant it comfort, like remind him of how much of a man he could be. The loner muttered something, but Harleen was already sleeping. Arthur didn’t move at all, silently enjoying her chest moving up and down. He planted a kiss above her right breast and closed his eyes.

The rain intensified. And Arthur fell asleep in a state of complete inner peace for the first time in his life as the pink lights dissipated into black as his eyes slowly closed.

It was the most beautiful darkness he’d ever been in.

[straightouttaneptune]

It girl pt. 4 - Superhero debut

Pairing: Mentor!Natasha Romanoff x Mentee!Reader, Platonic!Avengers x reader, Peter Parker x Reader (In the future)

Warning: Reader being a kickass, Peter x Reader is settling in... Not much to warn.

Summary: Natasha had once joked about picking a random new recruit trainee to teach all her skills since Tony had recently become Peter’s mentor. Fury sees this as a legitimate idea, and asks Natasha to choose her protège, code name: “it girl”.

A/N: I’m so sorry it took so long! But it’s finally here, and the reader is on a mission!!! Anyways, it’s been decided that this little series will end with Part 5 or a 6, depending on how long it will be. Enjoy xx

Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6

———————————————————————

2 weeks later

“We gotta go to that Stark internship now!” You and Peter told Ned and MJ simultaneously, before rushing out of the campus hand in hand.

“Peter, gimme your backpack.” He tossed his bag to you as you placed his and your bag into a self-navigating drone you pulled out of your pack, the coordinates heading right to the Avengers Compound.

“Alright. Ready?” You turned back at Peter in his spider-man get up, giving him a thumbs up.

He wrapped his arm around your waist, flustering you a little. No matter how many times the two of you did this, the contact with his well-built body always got your heart to pick up its pace. You’d liked Peter ever since he had that crush on Liz, but you’ve never had to suppress your feelings harder than the last few weeks. There were a lot more secrets, touching, grabbing and moments spent together compared to when you were just in the same friend group.

Peter thanked god that his mask covered his obviously red cheeks, and tried his hardest not to stare at your excited, adorable face.

You let yourself feel the cool wind combing through your hair, that drop of your stomach when he lets go of the web to shoot another, the awes and gasps of the people down below and obviously being hugged by Peter.

The two of you land right in front of the door, where Bucky and Sam were bickering at each other again. Something about Sam eating Bucky’s plums again, so now Bucky was going to make Sam mow the entire field.

“Oh hey, kids. Stark, Nat, your kids are here!” Sam yelled into the building, then continued to sass Bucky with arguments that made no sense whatsoever.

“Well, you have cooties, so I saved the plums from Bucky germs. It is safer in my stomach.”

“I hate you. So much.”

You waved goodbye to Peter and rushed up to your room, ready to change into training gear. But as soon as you entered the walk-in-closet, MINT's voice rang through the room. 

"Mission gear lock: Deactivated. Welcome, Y/N Y/L/N." Your eyes widened in surprise, rushing to the furthest side of the closet to look at the Mission gear compartment. 

To your surprise, the blue shield had been taken down, revealing black combat suits of different uses. The usual one, with all black form-fitting shape, tactical with bullet vests built into the top and knives stored in various places, covert that included zero design and came with a black eye mask, and so on. You pushed the clothes aside to reveal a screen, that asked you to swipe left and scan fingerprint to continue. 

You followed the instruction without hesitation, MINT immediately replying with "Authorized personnel. Agent in training, Y/N Y/L/N. Congratulations, Y/N." 

You jumped back in surprise as the walls started moving, the clothes that were hung up moved to the other side of the wall to reveal a new one, stacked with weapons and many types of guns. 

"What. the. fuck." You mumbled to yourself in astonishment, staring at the various weaponry that seemed too high-tech to even exist on the Earth. 

"I see you've already opened my gift." Your head couldn't whip sideways any faster,  spotting Natasha standing by the entrance, leaning her shoulder on the doorway. She dressed in her Black Widow suit that you only saw on TV during the NY and Sokovia attacks. 

"This is insane. I'm allowed on missions?" 

"Only a small mission, with me supervising from the compound, okay?" She held up her finger and gave you a stern look, which you nodded happily to. You were already pumped with adrenaline, ready to take on basically anything. 

“Alright. Let’s get you to Fury. Put the one with the... blue design on.” She rummaged through the suits, finally pulling one out. It looked exactly like the ones she wore during the battle of Sokovia, except it looked a little more updated.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, body covered in full-leather or spandex or whatever the material was. You looked good. Even though it was quite the workout to put it on, it felt perfect and comfortable, every inch of the suit hugging you right.

You felt the reinforced shoulder plates, the gun holster on your thigh squeezing lightly, and the best part was, the material was engineered by Tony to make sure whoever wore it, doesn’t sweat out of their minds. The material kept it’s cool even after the workout putting it on, and you didn’t feel uncomfortable at all.

“Alright it girl, let’s go.” Natasha knocked on the closet door before her head poked out. “Grab that gun on your right, and follow me.”

Not even a few hours later, you were dropped off on a lonely hill of god-knows-where in America, left on your own to fend for yourself.

“Agent 13 will only be a few miles away in case anything goes wrong, okay?” You heard Natasha speak into your comms. “And, call me Natashenka on missions. Especially covert ones.”

“Natashenka?”

“Yeah, it’s the Russian nickname for Natasha.”

“Mm, I like it.”

You walked alone for a little while, no enemy or buildings in sight. So it really caught you off guard when a bullet flew straight beside your ear, landing itself in a tree behind you.

You recalled your past training with Natasha, rolling on the ground to find shelter behind a thick tree. Taking out the gun out of your holster, you tried to keep calm as you tried to spot the shooter. You also powered up your shock bracelet just in case.

If you were gonna do this, you were gonna do this right. Kneeling down on one knee, you aimed your gun at the man standing in front of a small army-camp looking building. With a sharp exhale, your fingers pulled the trigger and the bullet flew through the warm summer air.

The bullet buried itself in the guard’s bulletproof vest, knocking him out cold. “Good job, Y/N. But be careful. He’s not dead.”

“I don’t wanna kill anyone!” You whispered into your comms, slowly making your way to the gate. It must’ve been a severely under-staffed base since that guy you took out was the only guard outside. 

You stalked into the base, and all you could say was that it looked damaged. It looked very close to collapsing, and you were trusted to retrieve all of the files on the Avengers from this dump. 

"Hello, sweetheart. What's a girl like you doing here?" You turned around to face an unexpected number of guards, all standing behind one especially dark, suspicious-looking man. 

Your mind rushed to find you a perfect lie to deceive them, so you wouldn't fucking die in there. "Mm. Anastasiya Primanova. Sent from the base in Russia, courtesy of Strucker." You used the thick Russian accent you've heard in movies before, hoping it would sound real. "Y/N? What is going on?" You heard Natasha's frantic voice after you introduced yourself as someone else entirely. You hid the nervous hammering heart behind a cold, dead expression, putting your gun back in the holster. Please buy this, please buy this, please...

"Strucker's dead." He stared at you, inspecting you, but at least he wasn't shooting at you. 

"Obviously. I did his dirty bidding. He wrote a will. I was to take over this American base. It's quite the dump. кто ты?" (Who are you?) You used all the techniques in the book, making sure he took you in as 'Anastasiya Primanova', not 'obviously American girl on a mission'. You raised your chin and cocked your head, an unmistakable sign when one is looking down at someone. If you wanted anyone to see you as above them, you had to fake it till you made it.

"Kazimir." 

"So, are you going to show me what you've been doing or what?" Your hand rested on the gun in your holster, the other on your hip. He looked like he was conflicted, but in the end, he bought the act. He dismissed the soldiers to go back to their designated posts and signaled you to follow him. 

"You shot one of my men." He looked at your side-profile, seemingly still skeptical. But to be fair, that was justified. 

"And I'll shoot you too if you keep talking to me." Your pocket knife made a sharp slash sound as you popped it out, looking back at him warningly. "I trained with the Winter Soldiers. Do not try me." Your acting was so on-point, you had to give yourself a pat on the back for it. Threatening him as a first-impression made him fear you, even though he didn't know anything about you. It was simple psychology in the animal psyche, where one learns to fear another if they seem superior to them. 

“Oh, my god, Y/N, what are you doing?” A faint panic in Natasha’s voice was evident, but you were improvising.

He took you to every room from floor 1 to sub-levels, and you were down to the last room. Now, you had a perfect image of the whole base in your head. The base was much more complicated than you had thought, it was working perfectly underground even though it looked like a mess on the outside. The Avengers would have to come back to destroy this place.

“This is the archive.” Kazimir scanned his card to show you the inside, before taking off to do whatever evil thing he had on his schedule.

You grabbed his jacket before he could fully walk away, pulling him back forcefully. He showed you a look of hostility, but you paid his resentment no attention.

“Card.” You put out your left palm, and he uneagerly left his card in your hands.

“Thank you.” You eyed him carefully one last time, making sure he had no intention of betraying you or knowledge that you were an imposter. When he only showed bitterness, you let him go.

“Наташенька, I’m in.” You whispered proudly, but discreet in case there were any listening devices or cameras. That was most likely.

“Good job! What was the whole thing with Anastasiya and everything?” She sounded relieved, letting out a small sigh.

“Simple acting... Human psychology... The important thing is, I got the file on the USB.” You stared at the USB in your hand, letting out the breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

“Great. Now, get out of there.”

It was too easy from there. You glared at a couple soldiers on the way, made your way to the elevator and up, and just strolled out of the building. Once you were far enough, you called for the quinjet to take you back in.

“Y/N! Oh god, I was so nervous.” Natasha jumped out of the jet right as the door opened, rushing up to you. 

The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and the full realization of what you did started to dawn on you. “I just walked into a HYDRA base, made them think I was their leader and stole confidential files?!” Your organs felt like they were being jumbled up in the washing machine. You felt so dizzy you even had to hold onto Natasha for support.

“Director Fury, Mr. Fury, um, that base, that base was not what you said it was.” You crouched down to sit on the floor of the quinjet, safe and sound on your way back to the compound.

He looked to you curiously, waiting for you to say more.

“There was a place, underground, and hundreds of soldiers. You gotta- you gotta send the Avengers or something in there. There was a room, sub-level 2, where they were doing experimentations on animals, and they said they’ll start-“ You rambled while Natasha sat by your side, her face twisting into various emotions before she set her eyes on Fury with anger.

“We sent her to a fully-operational HYDRA facility?!” She shot up, her eyes wide with rage. Fury appeared more interested in how you went in there and didn’t die.

“You went inside and fooled them all? You saw- no, they guided you through every inch of the place, and you remember it?” He walked over to you, eyes narrowed and tone low.

“Fury!” 

“Right. But to be fair, you did a really good job.”

You chuckled, looking up at Natasha who still had a worried look on her face. Her sharp features softened when her eyes met with yours though, seeing how content you looked with yourself.

“Yeah. You did.” She smiled down at you sheepishly, as the quinjet came to a halt in front of the compound. The jet lowered itself on the concrete, FRIDAY’s voice ringing through the speakers. “Destination Arrived.”

A couple days later, practically everyone knew of the ‘it girl’ in the building who fooled over 100 HYDRA men and retrieved inside information and base layout that spies would take weeks to obtain.

You helped Steve make up a strategy for the infiltration, drawing him a map of every exit, every hide-out and all the places to avoid bombing. Sam started to randomly give you high-fives when crossing each other in the hall.

“What’s up, it girl?”

“Not much, Sam.”

*high-fives*

Thor would address you as “Y/N Natashadottier”, completely mistaking the whole Earth’s last-name system. You quite liked it, to be honest. A lot of times you went home to find your mother gone, her things packed with money on the table, clearly gone after your father again. In times like this, you never had anyone when you were younger. But now, you could easily show up at the Avengers Compound, and be welcomed, your room ready for you at all times. So in some ways, Natasha was your undocumented guardian.

Natasha couldn’t be more proud, everyone working in the new SHIELD was buzzing about the ‘it girl’, who was not a mutant, not an enhanced, not a genius, just a high-school girl who reads a lot of psychology books.

Peter also was excited for your big debut in the superhero world, the corners of his eyes crinkling every time someone mentions the ‘it girl’. Tony and Natasha obviously notice this, but they’re keeping quiet to see how fast you’ll get together.

Next chapter: Part 5

Taglist: @mindset-jupiter @fangirlingisajob @theadventurousqueen @gwenmxnstacy @ballerboobitch @the-lady-cersei-lannister @golden--rain @dollofbucky @sakuranomegami @elizabeth-santana-98 @anne2cold @eyeballtoes @marvel-is-a-mood @roseryss @redqueenstorm @orchideax @huntersociopathavenger @petertinglessss @marv-ells @hopefuloperaangelnerd @je11yfishwriter @iloveyou3000morgan @kewl-r @missmulti @grace-barnes-13  @samarcher79 @slow-dance-in-the-dark @intricate-melody @editsbyjenny @brenleestar @a-vvenger @princessizzy36 @sweetcrvture @itsbebeyyy @caws5749 @thenerdiverse

[imhereforbvcky]

Vivid - Part 5

Masterlist  -  Series Masterpage

Summary: Have you ever met someone who completely embodies a color? Not an aura, not synesthesia. Just… They walk into the room and when you spot them, you think to yourself, “Wow. That is a walking hurricane.” When Clint Barton serendipitously meets a free-spirited stranger, he sees red. Chapter: After you turn up unexpectedly on Clint’s mission, he tries to set things right, despite the risk.

Warnings: Swearing, mission violence.

Word Count: 2595

A/N: Okay, guys! I’m out of town still so I’m including the tags here on the original post, hopefully they work. Also, sorry this is all one big chunk. 😬

“What about him?” you asked, nodding toward a guy who passed by you with an acid wash black denim vest and a mohawk so tall you didn’t think you could reach the ends of it on tip-toes. “Is he cute?”

One friend shrugged, leaning a little to follow his path through the crowded warehouse. Another pulled a face: somewhere between a scowl and distress. Mostly scowl.

“No honey, you’re not a teenager trying to piss off your parents.”

You shrugged and nodded, chasing the bright red straw of your vodka soda. “I can’t tell. Concerts cloud my judgment. I get to having fun and I just… I don’t know, that anything-could-happen feeling takes over, ya know?”

“Yeah, that has nothing at all to do with the vodka,” Nina rolled her eyes.

This was not her scene. She was reserved and structured and liked her evenings well planned – guaranteed enjoyment.

You, meanwhile, were all spontaneity and effortless near-chaos. Nina wouldn’t even know what a pop-up concert was, much less consider attending one. But you’d dragged her along because you loved the idea and you damn well needed a night out.

The ongoing silence between you and Clint had grown into an icy dagger. You hadn’t heard from him since you’d run out of his apartment in a whirl of ice cream and shame. You wanted to be angry, but mostly it just hurt.

“Anyway, why are you prowling for punks?” Nina asked. “I thought you were seeing that guy? The midnight coffee guy.”

A more exaggerated groan had never been heard. Your head hung back on your shoulders just a moment before you dropped your forehead heavily onto Nina’s shoulder.

“No,” you grumbled. “You were right.”

“Oh, honey…”

You pulled away and began digging in your pockets, unwilling to meet her eye while you divulged another rejection, another failed leap into the dating pool.

“I was very ready to be ‘seeing’ him,” you grumbled, tearing open a little black aluminum envelope and stuffing your fingers inside. “But it turns out he’s already ‘seeing’ someone. Like… an amazing someone. A literal fairy-tale superhero!”

“I don’t… I don’t think that’s a thing…” Nina tried to slow your downward spiral.

“Oh trust me!” you nodded with raised eyebrows, dropping little granules from the black and neon packet into your drink. “It is. She’s like if a funny, caring, air-brushed version of a human come to life as an Avenger. And she was standing right there in his kitchen at two a.m. making him healthy fuckin’ food and being just… generally perfect for him. And apparently they ‘go way back.’ I just stood there like an idiot.”

You watched the little candies fizz and pop in your drink and took a sip, enjoying the distraction of the bubbly sweetness on your tongue.

“Honey, stop comparing yourself,” your friend’s comforting hand patted your shoulder. “It’s not about her.”

“No, I know.” You pouted, taking another sip and leaning against Nina as she pushed her arm over your shoulders. “It’s me. I get in too deep too fast and they never want me like I want them.”

“Okay, harsh truth time.”

“Already?”

She squeezed your shoulder.

“You are all about effortless,” she observed. “It’s great. You laugh effortlessly, find your way effortlessly, and you fall for people effortlessly. But, you expect them to match it and, honey, that’s just not how people work. Relationships aren’t effortless. Some people need time.”

“But nobody’s promised time,” you complained.

“Nobody’s promised a happy ending either.”

“Ouch.” You honestly hadn’t considered that unpleasant alternative. It left you silent and poking at the ice in your cup with the stupid red straw.

“I’m not saying your big open heart is a bad thing,” she was quick to soothe. “It’s what makes you, you. You’re like a big red hot air balloon. Most of us don’t know how you float through life like you do, with these highs and lows. Most of us are too scared for that. And honey, some people have been hurt. Some people just don’t know what they want. Give it time. Next time.”

You swung loose clumsy arms around Nina’s waist and hugged her tight to your side. “You always know just what to say. I’m glad you came out with me.”

“That’s why they pay me the big bucks,” she teased. “Next session I’m charging.”

“Therapists,” you rolled your eyes, “Always on the clock.”

“Shit! There you are!”

His voice was breathless and frantic but you’d learned to recognize it in the dark of night looking at the stars, or with a mouthful of pizza, or laughing over a tower of creamer packets. You’d know it with your eyes closed.

“Clint? What are you doing here?”

“I was…” he leaned over for a moment, catching his breath with his hands on his knees. “I w—Wait, that’s my line.”

Even if you’d wanted to, you couldn’t have helped responding to the grin that quirked lopsided across his face. It was just so easy with him. Effortless in every way.

You chuckled and looked at your feet, feeling that familiar shiver rising over the back of your neck. Finally, you let your gaze flicker over him, knowing it was a bad idea. Knowing you’d give in.

But you were startled by what you saw. No soft comfy sweats, no lived-in jeans with holes in the pockets and dirt on the knees. No perfectly fitted t-shirt that you knew would be well-worn and soft against your cheek.

No. He stood before you all sharp angular lines. Dark leather, black neoprene, and heavy zippers, like an armored motorcycle jacket trimmed in a dark dusty violet. The same leather armor cut in sharp lines down his legs to sturdy boots. Oddest, one glove covered only three fingers.

He stepped closer, reaching quickly for your hand. He looked hurt when you stepped back, frowning.

“Are you… are you with a band?” you asked, giving him another quick once over. “The opener?”

“What?” he chuckled. “No, why would you…?”

“Well, I don’t know,” you laughed right along with him like it was the simplest thing in the world, like right here with him was exactly where you were supposed to be and what you were meant to be doing. “I’m not judging… that’s a look though… the leather and…”

He glanced down at his suit. His Avengers uniform, his armor, and he outright laughed.

“I like it,” you shrugged, a sheepish smile insistently beaming over your cheeks. “It… you look good, but you um… you stand out a bit.”

“Yeah. I guess I do.” Something like a snicker, more like a snort accompanied his reply. It was so uniquely Clint: funny and absurd and so disarming. His eyes met yours again and you could read the smile all over them. they were brimming with it and you were practically swimming.

Nina’s arm eased from your shoulders and squeezed your hand. A reminder. A message: be strong, be patient. He’s not yours. She let go and stepped a few feet away, leaning on the bar within your sight if you needed her. Friends don’t abandon friends to almost-somethings come back to haunt you.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he blurted the words before he could think to soften them.

“One night only pop-up concert’s a strange place to look,” you joked.

“What?”

“The concert,” you squinted at him. “It’s a pop-up. They message a list of people like 3 hours before with the address. I assume you got one?”

Suddenly Clint’s comlink erupted with activity he struggled to attend to: It’s a set up. The concert isn’t real. Something about hostages and Clint get your ass out of there…

Bucky’s voice in his ear was nothing but noise, noise, noise when you were right here, bright and alive. You were always the midnight calm. The surest dance. Nothing could go wrong if he just stayed near you. He knew that wasn’t true, but for a minute he stood still in the center of the storm.

“No,” he shook his head, “No, I meant… I haven’t seen you at the bodega. Or the uh, the coffee shop, or—“

“I know.”

You swallowed hard, a crease deepening between your brows.

Clint was shocked by the silent push of the dagger of regret. He’d let you walk out of his apartment that day with a lie in your head and it hurt – physically hurt – to see you so pained by it. He felt like a kid who’d held the brightest, most buoyant red balloon and let it slip away into the sky.

“I miss…” you. A part of him screamed to finish the sentence, but that piece of him – sharp and poisonous – that knew he’d ruin things, had already ruined things clapped down on his tongue. “I miss talking to you. And Lucky misses you. And Marco, the uh, the pizza guy, he gives me a hard time when I turn up alone, and—“

“I miss you too, Clint.” The words came so easy to you. Like every emotion lay just below the surface, brimming, glowing, ready to burst, sometimes ready to break. To break you in two. Like right now as you swallowed another batch of tears. “It just… didn’t seem like a good idea anymore.”

“Barton! Let’s go!” the comlink squawked. He was rooted to the spot.

“I’m sorr—“

The moment he’d opened his mouth a blue streak ripped across the sky through the window behind him and landed against the building with a burst. He was close enough to feel the heat on the back of his neck in the same instant the boom reached his ears.

Pitching forward, his body crashed into yours, but he managed to recover enough to keep from crushing you. On his knees, with an arm curled over your back, his sharp eyes scanned the room.

“You okay?” he hollered over the roar of automatic gunfire and the frantic cry of the crowd.

You merely nodded, clinging tightly to the shelter he provided. Your fists curled in the smooth leather of his jacket. Quickly, he guided you behind the nearest bar – the faintest modicum of safety. Nina was there, clamoring for you, shouting your name in a wretched mixture of terror and relief.

Clint hated this about the job. How people sobbed through small victories, how fear colored everything thereafter. He wondered how it would color you. Would you still be red and bright? Would you be a fire engine, screaming for help? Would you be a red brick wall, graying in the dust of an explosion? Or the deep loathsome red of bloodshed over concrete, opaque like the muddied edges of raw garnet?

“Barton! We need you in position out here!” Bucky stood just inside the massive room, shoulder pressed to the thick steel door of an emergency exit. For a moment he gave Clint a look and a rueful frown. The very next moment, his steel blue gaze turned to the sliver of an opening he’d left at the door and began returning fire.

Clint closed his hands around yours and squeezed, gently extracting your frightened grip from him. He hated it. Every second, he hated it. But in order to protect this thing he’d found with you, he had to risk it. He had to turn into the storm.

“What are you doing?” you demanded panicked and grasping at his arm. “Where are you going?!”

Nina tugged at your arm, eyes locked on Bucky beating back the enemy at the gate. Then snapping to the room full of people: unarmed and frantic with no safe way out. It was chaos. Her eyes settled on Clint just in time to see him reach for his bow and flick his arm at the elbow, with enough force to snap the bow into shape.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he promised, hoping he wouldn’t break it. “Stay here, stay low.”

“Barton!” Bucky hollered again, “Priorities, man!” Then he disappeared through the door, expecting his mission partner to follow. To get his ass back into position.

“Clint!” you shouted as he turned and jogged through the mess toward the door. “What the fuck is he doing?” you asked Nina voice frantic to the point of shrill breaking. You weren’t really expecting an answer. “He’s gonna get murdered. He’s just a guy! He hardly sleeps, and he drinks more coffee than a camel does water! And his cholesterol must be through the roof from all that greasy pizza! And he’s… He’s…!”

“When were you going to tell me you’re buddy-buddy with the Avengers?!” Nina balked.

“I’m not!” you snapped. “I told you, it was so awkward. She was just in the kitchen when I strolled in like I owned the place, when really she and Clint have been toge—“

“No! Him!” Nina pointed, wide-eyed.

“Hi.” Clint was slightly out of breath again. He’d sprinted back and knelt to face you with a nervous smile flickering over his lips.

“Hi.”

“Bucky said priorities, so uh,” he looked down for a second. Took a deep breath and then leapt head first into the deep unknown, head blaring red alert and hoping it wouldn’t hurt too badly when he crashed into the water. “I’m Clint Barton, I—“

“I know that, Clint. I sit on your stoop like 3 nights a week.”

He held up a hand to stop you. God he just needed to get this out. “I’m an Avenger. I go by Hawkeye.” He held up the bow as proof. It was the most elaborate piece of man-made weaponry you’d ever seen. “Natasha is my best friend. Good and bad and… worse than bad, she’s there. And I’m there. That’s not gonna change, but we’re absolutely not… a thing. Okay?”

You nodded, chewing on a smile because it was definitely not an appropriate response to the current mayhem. But it was the only response you’d ever really had to Clint Barton. The midnight coffee guy. The bodega dance partner. The shitty night fixer. The can’t say no to a dog, pizza hoarder.

“I like you a lot,” his eyes were firm on your own now. Unwavering for once. “And I miss you. And I’m probably gonna need a lot of coffee and half the pizza in New York City when this is over with.”

You laughed, and it drew out a big smile in him, and a little courage too.

“And a really long nap.”

“And probably an ice pack,” you added.

“More than probably.”

You gently let your hand fall over his; the one holding the bow. You had fallen effortlessly and happily for Clint Barton, just Clint. But this Clint: bold and recklessly brave despite all the odds and all the reasons to fear... This Clint, Clint the Avenger was pretty damn incredible too.

“Can I call you for all of that? Like we did before? Once the dust settles?”

“You better.”

He nodded, resolute, determined to get to work, but with a grin lighter than he’d felt in a week. Without another thought, he kissed the tip of your nose. He chuckled to himself as he sprinted back to the door. It had been a thoughtless move, driven purely by the swelling feeling in his chest. It was all spontaneity and life. You must be rubbing off on him.

“You better! I miss that pizza dog of yours!” you hollered after him, leaning out from behind the bar with a cheeky grin.

Maybe he was rubbing off on you a little, too.

Chapter 6 >>