#apologies for the mostly radio silence on here recently

[luminitewrites]

A small (unedited) crumb of Sleuth Jesters Actor AU for you

Nobody let Moon drive or else

(Psst, @naffeclipse, I hope you don't mind that I've made the acting cast not quite like the characters they play)

[sapphic-coded]

I Swear That I Don't Have A Gun

You grew up in Ohio with your father, brother, and sister. Your family was small and strange. Because of that, you were picked on relentlessly at school. Until another weird kid showed up. Her family moved in across the street from you. It wasn't long until the two of you became friends. Your friendship became the light in your life. Until it ended suddenly. Rumors followed your friend's disappearance. Russian spies. You didn't see her again until you crossed paths at work.

Natasha Romanoff x fem Reader

Warnings: Violence. Some gore. Language that Cap wouldn't approve of. Reader is a messed up assassin. Minors DNI

Word Count: 3.4k

Author's Note: Welp. Here's my first fanfic on tumblr. I only have one chapter written, but I'm hoping my muse will stick with me so I can turn this into a series. This is lightly edited. I apologize in advance for any mistakes you come across (and you most likely will). Minors, please do not interact. Please do not copy/steal my work. Enjoy!

Chapter One: I Thought You Died Alone A Long, Long Time Ago

Mount Vernon, Ohio – 1992

The silence that filled the car wielded a tension you were all too familiar with. Your father’s knuckles were white against the steering wheel he gripped. A deep frown pulled at his lips while his cold, steel gray eyes stared straight ahead behind a pair of thick, dark framed glasses. His usual tamed black hair was a mess with strands of hair shooting out in random directions. 

Sitting next to your father, up in the front passenger’s seat, was your older brother. He was a tall, skinny boy who had just embarked into his teens. His blonde hair was parted down the middle of his head and reached the tips of his ears. His navy blue eyes stared out the passenger’s window. His lips were pressed tight. There was so much he wanted to say. If you guys were anywhere else, perhaps he wouldn’t hold back. 

Sitting next to you in the backseat of your father’s station wagon was your older sister. She was a year younger than your brother with her long brown hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. Her head was bowed, and her brown eyes were glued to the pages of her book. She was skinny like your brother, but her body was already beginning to shift into adulthood. She had started growing breasts last summer. 

You were the youngest. You had recently celebrated your tenth birthday. You were skinny like your siblings, but still very much a child. Your green camo jacket felt heavy. You were all dressed alike: green camo jackets, dark green shirts, green hunting fatigues, and heavy brown boots. It was the outfit you always wore during your hunting trips with your father.  

Your brother reached toward the car’s radio. Your father’s hand released its vice-like grip on the steering wheel and slapped down on your brother’s hand. You heard the loud smack, and your brother quickly snatched his hand back.

“I’ve had enough of your nonsense.” Your father’s voice rode a current of anger that popped the tense bubble of silence. 

“I just wanted to listen to music,” your brother shot back. “Sitting here in silence is boring.” 

Just like that another argument between your father and brother started up. You looked over at your sister. She was very much focused on her book. Your attention drifted over to your window. You did your best to tune out the argument happening up front while you watched the scenery of trees roll by. Eventually your gaze dropped to your lap. You stared at the dried blood caked around your fingernails. 

“...pointless and–”

“You are cowardly and weak!”

You can’t believe the weekend is almost over. You had spent the whole weekend out hunting with your family. Your father had parked his station wagon in a lot and marched you all out into the woods. You all had spent the whole weekend laying in the cold mud. It was your brother’s hunt. You were all following his lead. Which meant mostly laying in the mud and following tracks every so often. This weekend was supposed to end with your brother’s first kill. Instead, it ended differently. 

The engine of your father’s car stopped as you reached your house. The argument between your brother and father had ended, but you cannot recall when. You undid your seatbelt and opened the car door. The moment you stepped out onto your driveway, your attention landed on a moving truck parked across the street. A man and a woman were busy unloading boxes out of the truck and carrying them into the house. 

You noticed something else. A girl around your age with blue hair came out of the house and walked down the driveway towards the moving truck. Her pace slowed as she noticed you. You lifted your hand in a small, friendly wave. A smile had started to curl at your lips when your father’s voice called out to you. You turned away from your new neighbors and found your father standing in the garage with his hunting rifle hanging from his shoulder. You made your way up into the garage where you felt your father’s hand fall gently onto your shoulder. 

Amsterdam – 2010

You hate these jobs. Long relentless days spent circling your target. Never able to strike just yet. You had to put on a show first. Pretend to be their friend, or a business partner, or their lover. You had to act as if your target was important in some flimsy life you threw together. Your kills were always messy at the end of these jobs. You can’t help it. You just want the stupid job to be over. 

And it almost is. You have spent the past four days pretending to be your target’s bodyguard. Four days spent following your target around. You dealt with their problems and waited for the day all your targets would be together in the same room. Because the job wasn't just to kill the target you were pretending to protect. Your target and their friends had messed up. They had pissed off the wrong people. You were there to clean up the mess. 

Your target had set the long awaited meeting to take place in a fancy hotel in the middle of the day. The guest list for this meeting would be short. It included your target and you, his business partners, and their private security. The meeting wasn’t scheduled to take long. It was supposed to be a simple transaction. An easy exchange of goods and money. The details of that particular transaction did not interest you. Your interest lingers on your plan to take out all your targets. 

The dark brown shoulder holster that you wore over your white, button-up, collared shirt held one of your favorite guns. There was nothing overly special about it. It was a standard, black 9mm Beretta handgun. It was reliable in nearly all your jobs. It was your favorite because it had been your first gun. A present from your father. It marked the end of your training and the beginning of the rest of your life. If your job was to take out just the one target you had been following around, then the choice would have been easy. But the job required the elimination of all your targets. Since the other targets were bringing their own private security, once you made your move you would need to finish the job quickly. 

But the job didn’t specify that the kills had to be quiet. 

You pull on your gray suit coat. Your shoulder holster disappears from view as you stand before the mirror and button the coat. Matching gray trousers cover your legs and the black flats you wear bring a smile to your face. This job was almost over and soon you would be busy getting yourself as far away from here as possible. Hence why you chose the flats over heels. You run your hands down the length of your suit coat to smooth out any wrinkles. Your hair is pulled back into a professional, tight bun. Your right hand dips into one of the suit pockets. The pad of your finger brushes against the small, round marble nestled within. 

When your target is ready, you follow him out of the hotel room he rented and down into the hotel lobby. You follow him across the spacious lobby and into a large boardroom. As the door clicks shut behind you, your eyes survey the room. A long mahogany table commands most of the space within the room. Situated around the table were identical black office chairs. Far more than necessary for this meeting. Sitting in four of the chairs were your four other targets. Standing behind each of your targets were their own bodyguards. Sunlight poured into the room from the floor to ceiling glass windows that ran along one side of the room. 

You follow your target over to one of the chairs. He takes a seat and you stand behind him. Your gaze briefly returns to the other bodyguards. All tall, imposing looking men. They stand as still as statues, and you wonder how they do it. Do they enjoy following around power addicted fools? You spent four days with your target, and you can’t wait to kill him. 

“Where’s Tyler?” your target asks as he settles into his seat. 

“Running late,” your other target answers. 

You tune out the insults your targets direct towards the currently absent Tyler. Instead, you wonder what this peaceful boardroom will look like in the next ten minutes. Or however long it takes for Tyler to show up. There will definitely be blood. Broken glass was also a given. You doubt the chairs will make it. The hotel will definitely need to buy a new table. But you wonder if you’ll get a chance to see their faces. Just one. It’s the part that fascinates you the most. Your target’s last moment etched across their face. It reveals so much. 

The door to the boardroom opens and the conversation shared between your targets dies into an awkward silence. You turn in time with everyone else as Tyler steps into the room alone. The first thing you notice is that he is sweating. A lot. In his shaking hand he holds the handle of a briefcase. His free hand raises up and he runs his fingers through a disheveled mop of dark hair. 

“Sorry about the wait,” Tyler says. 

“Jesus, Tyler,” your original target replies. “You look like shit. Let’s just get this over with so we can all go home.” 

Tyler nods and hurries over to the table. He sets the briefcase down and opens it. One of your other targets reaches into their coat pocket and pulls out a brown wrapped parcel. The size and shape of the parcel is clearly money. With everyone’s attention on Tyler and his suitcase, you causally unbutton your gray suit jacket. 

“Just so everything is clear,” your original target addresses the others. “You give us that.” He gestures to the suitcase. “You take the money, and we don’t hear from you ever again. You don’t mention us and we don’t know you. You don’t come looking for this because it doesn’t exist.”

Tyler nods. 

“We still haven’t discussed how we are dividing our profits,” another target says. 

“We’ll discuss it later,” your original target replies. 

As the conversation shifts into another argument, you decide that this is as good a time as any to wrap things up. All your targets are in place with a few bonus players. It is time to put these boring four days behind you. As your hand moves towards your pocket, you spot one of the other bodyguards quickly lowering his head. His hand lifts up to press against his ear. You still your movements as you watch the other bodyguard. 

“We just lost our comms,” the bodyguard’s voice cuts through the argument. 

Your hand abandons its journey towards your pocket as your original target turns around in their seat to look at you. The question written plain across their face is one you can’t answer. Maybe if you had any comms to worry about then you could make a solid guess as to why they are suddenly down. But you don’t. And while you have no interest in who the new mysterious player is, you do get the sense that maybe you really should wrap this up. Quickly. 

You mimic the other bodyguards as you reach for your gun. Your fingers manage to brush against the holster’s leather before a faint beeping sound pulls your attention over towards the door. Something small and metallic rolls out from underneath the door. It rolls across the floor towards you and your gathered targets. You can barely make out what it is from where you are standing, but the quickening frequency of the faint beeping causes you to turn away from it. 

The white light that explodes from the weird object swallows up the entire boardroom. You close your eyes as the explosion drowns out the shouts from the other bodyguards. Your ears are ringing when you open your eyes. The shouts from your targets are muffled as they all scramble from their seats. The wall of glass windows shatters as men in black tactical gear attached to wires swing into the boardroom. The bodyguards who had managed to pull out their guns immediately exchange gunfire with the uninvited tactical team while your targets scramble to avoid getting hit. 

Well, you hadn’t planned to end this job on a neat and tidy note. Things were about to get really messy. 

You pull your gun from its holster and aim it at the first tactical newcomer that pointed their gun at you. Your finger squeezes the trigger, and you watch with satisfaction as their head snaps back from the bullet barreling through their forehead. Their body goes limp and drops. You spy one bodyguard already dead with their chest riddled with bullet holes. 

A second tactically geared newcomer turns their attention to you and is quick to fire. You quickly duck underneath the fancy boardroom table. Bullets from your enemy’s gun rips through the wood above you. You take aim at the guy’s leg and fire. The guy’s cry comes through crystal clear as he drops to his knee. You can’t fight back the smile that curls your lips as you maneuver your way out from underneath the table and fire off another round where you’re almost certain his mouth is. 

Another bodyguard has joined the other dead one on the floor while the others corral your targets behind them as they continue to exchange gunfire with the uninvited guests. Except, Tyler darts out from behind the weakening wall of bodyguards and rushes towards the bullet ridden table. He snatches up the briefcase and hurries towards the door. The other targets hurl curses his way as you lift your gun and aim at the back of his head. You are about to pull the trigger when the door Tyler reaches flies open into him. Tyler stumbles backwards, trips over his clumsy feet, and falls backwards. The briefcase slips from his grasp and slides across the floor and stops at your feet. 

Your attention, however, is not on the briefcase. It’s not even on Tyler who is groaning and still alive. Your eyes are glued to the person who steps through the doorway and into the room. You recognise her face immediately despite her red hair. It’s long and tied back away from her face in an intricate braid. The black catsuit she wears bears the symbol of SHIELD on her shoulders. The identity of the tactical newcomers pales in comparison to the way her olive green eyes widen slightly in recognition. Old memories, so long buried that you are shocked you can even remember them, creep in. The gun in your hand never wavers as you find your old friend at the business end of it. 

“Y/N.” 

If there were any doubts, her voice banished them. It’s her. 

“Put down the gun.” 

It’s as if a floodgate has opened. The memories are countless despite the fact that it had only been three years. So old and forgotten that they feel new. They smother the job that has taken up residence within your mind. You’re here to kill your targets, but all you can think about is the last time you saw her. How abrupt her departure had been. You remember your father’s rants about her family. 

Slowly, you lower your gun. She takes a step forward. Tyler’s groans stop, and he lifts his head up. He reaches for the briefcase at your feet. You point your lowered gun down towards Tyler’s head and pull the trigger. Your friend’s advance stops as blood and pieces of Tyler’s brain paint the floor and the briefcase red. One target down. 

The smoke pours from your gun as you gauge her reaction. The recognition you saw earlier is gone. Her face is a mask, and the frustration you feel is so familiar. 

The last of the bodyguards drop and your remaining targets are completely exposed. The remaining tactical guests close in on your targets except for one who breaks off and starts towards you. You ignore the orders the man shouts at you. Instead, you kick the blood and brain matter stained briefcase underneath the ruined table. You start to raise your gun, but the tactical guest already has his finger on the trigger. He fires and you are quick to dodge out of the way. The bullets dig holes into the wall behind you. You kick one of the office chairs at the man. It collides into him and he stumbles back. You raise your gun again but the moment you squeeze the trigger, your legs are swept out from underneath you. The bullet you fired finds a home in the ceiling as your back collides with the ground. 

Before you can move, a weight settles on you. Hands pin down yours. Strong legs straddle you as your friend’s face fills your vision. 

“Stop, Y/N.” There’s more force behind her words this time. “Don’t make me hurt you.” 

You almost laugh. Almost. Maybe if your job was done then you could have spared a moment or two to revel in your friend’s joke. But you were dangerously close to losing control of this job. You pull your legs up and manage to throw your friend off of you. You roll onto your knees and go to stand when the man you had kicked the chair at slams the butt of his gun into your jaw. Your head snaps to the side and blood fills your mouth. 

The childhood memories that have been distracting you vanish as you spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor. The man turns his gun back around to point the barrel at you. Your hold on your own gun remains firm as you look over your shoulder towards your friend. She’s on her knees as well, but that is all you are able to make out as you quickly drop back down towards the floor. A small, short bluish bolt flies barely an inch over your head and lands on the guy who hit you. Blue strings of electricity wrap around his chest as he drops with a shout. 

You scramble to your feet and head for the door. Your hand digs into your suit pocket and your fingers close around the small marble. You can hear your friend catching up to you as you pull the marble from your pocket. Your thumb presses down on the miniscule button barely noticeable to the eye. As you quickly near the door, you drop the marble. It rolls towards your remaining targets. The moment you make it out of the boardroom and into the lobby, you feel her hand close around yours. You yank your hand hard from her grip and turn quickly while raising your gun. 

You find yourself staring down the barrel of her gun. A smile creeps onto your face as you hold your gun steady. Unfortunately, your friend doesn’t find this amusing. 

“Put down the gun.”

“You first, Nat,” you reply. 

Her gun stays pointed at you when it finally happens. The boardroom explodes into a hot, blazing ball of destruction. The force of the explosion sends both of you flying further into the spacious lobby. You both hit a fancy looking pillar before dropping with a hard thud to the ground. Despite your body’s screams of protest, you are the first to climb back onto your feet. You look down as your friend starts to move. Still alive. Your gun feels heavy in your hand as that single thought runs laps through your mind. For the first time in a long time, you feel excited. 

“Sorry, Nat,” you say as you slide your gun back into its holster. “Gotta run.” 

You leave her there and make your escape. Slipping away from the scene that has now drawn a crowd is as easy as breathing. You hardly think about it. And with nobody chasing you, it’s almost painfully easy. But the further away you get, you know that’s not entirely true. She isn’t chasing after you now, but she will. You hope so. You miss your only friend.

[inuhalfdemon]

We Interrupt This Meeting for No One Can Know...

RadioApple SMUT

Rating = Explicit

Word Count = 2,768 Words

Lucifer fidgeted uncomfortably. It was the third fucking meeting this afternoon!

And, he was horny…

Incredibly horny.

Couldn’t even focus on what Alastor was currently seriously discussing with the Royals that had traveled here from the Lust Ring kind of horny.

For two months before Adam’s attack on the hotel, Alastor and Lucifer had been going pretty hot and heavy. Three, nearly four, weeks after that…they both hardly saw each other: between Lucifer’s being swamped with duties pertaining to the upheavals all across Hell and all the extra responsibilities he was overseeing at the new hotel to help Charlie with, and: Alastor doing all his normal hotel managing on top of having to re-establish and maintain his status as the Radio Demon  during the nights…they both were utterly exhausted.

It hadn’t really bothered Lucifer...the lack of intimacy. He was too busy, too tired, and too distracted with everything else for it to be at the forefront of his mind often and Alastor’s most recent rut only just ended; intimacy would be the last thing on the Cervidae demon’s list of needs right now.

But, then these past few days happened…

Carmilla Carmine had arranged for back-to-back meetings with all sorts of higher-ups from Hell’s other rings: meetings concerning the widespread news that angels can be harmed. Carmilla was currently the only weapon’s dealer all throughout Hell that specialized in angelic steel. She had agreed to work closely with the hotel going forward but, the reality was that many would want to be somehow…involved. They needed to address the issues of availability, producibility, dispensary…all the yadda, yadda…that came with that with concerning the business of her weapons. It was decided that Lucifer and Alastor would both host and attend to these meetings with Carmilla to discuss and negotiate everyone’s interests and concerns so that a process - of sorts - could be established.  

Yesterday, Lucifer’s mind started wandering from him…Today, his body started betraying him…

So here Lucifer was; horny as hell and shifting awkwardly in his seat at the far end of the long meeting table that was adjoined to Carmilla Carmine’s offices.   

Lucifer’s incessant and unflagging erection was maddeningly distracting for him. He was only just wondering if he might be able to pull off a quick wank or a subtle rut under the table when:

“Your grace?” Carmilla asked, pulling Lucifer’s attention back toward the meeting.

“Huh?” Lucifer sat up straight, blinking. “What? Sorry, I-“

 “One of the Royals is wondering what demons will be considered in the distribution of angelic weaponry and steel. Obviously, there won’t be enough for every demon in Hell; he’s mostly curious as to how that will be decided as things progress, and I thought you might like to weigh in on why and how we will be prioritizing buyers.” Carmilla explained. Alastor sat across from her further down the table; smiling and looking at Lucifer with a very sharp look.

 “Of course, my apologies I kind of…zoned out there…” Lucifer laughed lightly, quickly trying to re-gather his thoughts.

“One of the most cum…cum…cumming…” Lucifer loudly coughed and cleared his throat.  “Common! One the most cummin-COMMON issues is, ha, ha…that many demons will want to obtain these sorts of weapons for other, less beneficial means. Alastor, our resident Radio Demon and Hazbin hotelier, will be presenting Hell’s biggest penis for you all…problem! Hell’s biggest PROBLEM in regard to-!” Lucifer was sweating and his eyes had gone wide. The Royals from the Lust Ring were smirking and laughing but, both Carmilla and Alastor were staring back at him in uneasy and stunned silence.

Lucifer coughed loudly, “Heh, sorry…throat’s a little dry…um…what, what was the position…er…question, again?”

“Why don’t we take a break.” Carmilla offered; speaking to everyone, and the Royals nodded happily. “We can re-convene back here in an hour. There’s refreshments and a lounge…” Carmilla stood up to show the Royals where everything was.

Alastor watched them leave; smiling widely.

Lucifer sighed and quickly adjusted himself before awkwardly standing and going to the door. Alastor flicked an ear and followed him out. The Royals had all gone to the table where there was food laid out but, Lucifer headed straight for the Culligan in the corner for a cold drink.

Lucifer stepped aside with his cup and Alastor joined him, his smile twitching slightly.

“I know they are from the Lust Ring, and I know it’s your nature to be…accommodating but, was the crude humor really necessary?” Alastor asked him, unamused.

“I’m sorry!” Lucifer hissed, his voice dropping, speaking quieter now. “It’s been weeks, okay…I’m in a little bit of a tricky headspace, right now.”

“If you’re feeling overwhelmed, we could talk to Charlie. Really, I could agree with anyone that these meetings have become terribly tedious…”  

“That’s not what I mean…Al.” 

Alastor sipped from his water; eyebrow lifting as he considered Lucifer. Lucifer tilted his head sharply; eyes widening as he was giving Alastor a pointed look from him back down to his crotch.

“Oh…OH!” Alastor realized; ears straightening. 

Most of the Royals had filtered out of the hallway and were heading into the lounge. Lucifer finished his cup of water, then stepped to follow the last one who was heading in when Alastor reached out and gripped him by the elbow. Reflexively, Lucifer jerked his head back to see Alastor setting his cup down. Alastor never touched him in public.

Alastor glanced back at the door to the lounge to confirm that no one was watching, then his shadow quickly darted up from his feet at the floor, pulling both men back down with it so that they disappeared from the room entirely.  

 Lucifer whirled around, feeling disoriented as Alastor’s shadow left them to slide underneath the bottom of a door. They were in a small space; crammed in tightly by shelves and all manner of disinfectants, towels, mops, brooms…

“We’re in a cleaning closet!?”

“Yes, now quieter, if you please.” Alastor hissed, turning around and moving items off from one of the shelves that was behind him.

“Wha-?” Lucifer turned around in a circle again. “Why!?”

“Carmilla has security measures all throughout this entire building, no doubt. We wouldn’t be able to slip off to the hotel without her knowing and I don’t like the idea of her becoming suspicious or wondering why we may have left.” Finished with moving everything out of his way, Alastor leant over the shelving; his torso laid out of the top and his hips lifted level with Lucifer’s.

“Wait. What are…what are you doing?” Lucifer stopped his spinning; Alastor’s suggestive posture catching his full attention now.

“I’ve neglected my sovereign, and this is me addressing the consequences.” Alastor smoothly loosened his pants; pulling and shoving them down so that they crumpled to his knees.

“Wait.” Lucifer started sweating, swallowing dryly. “Was that-was that supposed to be a ‘I’ve been a bad boy…’line…coming from you!?”

“Whatever suits your fancy, Luci.”

“But, I can’t…I can’t ward the door if Carmilla’s got this place secured.” Lucifer gulped, staring at Alastor’s deer tail flicking over his tight bare ass.

“Then, we’ll just have to be quiet then, won’t we.” Alastor shot him a look.

Lucifer quickly fumbled at the clasp to his pants; clumsily pulling them lower and reaching inside to pull himself out.

Fuck, he was hard…

“You-you’re sure?” Lucifer asked Alastor, uncertainly – suddenly feeling way too overheated.

“Yes, yes. Just make it snappy.”

Lucifer stroked at himself a couple of times, stepping into Alastor backside. Lucifer let go of his length and slid his palms over Alastor’s waist; his hands gripping at the man’s bare hips – Lucifer’s erection slid over and rested against one supple buttock, the tip of it smearing pre-cum into the firm cheek.

Lucifer licked his lips. “Inside?” He asked Alastor softly.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Alastor told him indifferently, adjusting himself over the shelf more so that he was in more of a relaxed position. “I can’t say that I’m very much in the mood, myself.”

Lucifer let go of Alastor’s hips; sliding his hand to his own collar and releasing the knot of his bowtie.

“The tail, then.” Lucifer said, deciding something as he slid the fabric away from his neck.

“The wha-!? Oh, of all the lewd-“ Alastor’s words were cut off as Lucifer leaned himself forward and slipped the fabric of his bowtie over the deer demon’s head. He yanked it between Alastor’s lips so that the loop of it slid sharply into his mouth, pulling snug at the corners.

Alastor’s head bent back sharply, and his back bowed as he snarled at the makeshift gag he had been given.

Lucifer tightened his grip on the fabric; adding tension to it as he leant forward – voice low and growling: “Careful that you don’t bite through that, Al…you ruin my bowtie, and I will ruin you.”

Alastor’s ears fell back, and he submitted with a soft whine.

“That’s a deer…” Lucifer grunted; shifting himself so that he was pressed more firmly into Alastor now.

The angle was a bit awkward, but Lucifer managed to work it so that the ends of his bowtie were stuffed – clenched – between his own teeth as he leant over Alastor. It couldn’t have been an entirely comfortable position for Alastor; with his head, neck and upper spine cranked back like they were, but he yielded himself willingly.

Lucifer tilted his hip, his erect penis sliding between Alastor's bare cheeks - the tip of it pointed upward - and he groaned softly. Alastor's tail flagged side to side at the sound and Lucifer took it gently in his hands. The deer demon’s ears flicked quickly back and then forward again at the contact, but he remained still.

Moving his hips, Lucifer stimulated himself against Alastor as he played with the tail - stroking and combing his claws through the fine and silky hair. Alastor's tail was wagging softly in his hands and Lucifer wondered what it might feel like...to have that softness rubbing against the sensitive skin of his dick. 

Imagining it elicited a carnal grunt from him and he quickly shifted himself so that with every thrust of his pelvis, his hard length dragged against the base of Alastor's tail. Alastor's tail stiffened in Lucifer's hands, a delicate ridge of fur rising and standing straight down the middle.

Lucifer huffed, a sweet tension building quickly now.

Alastor shifted his hips and Lucifer's jutted in response.

Alastor's tail began wagging and Lucifer firmly gripped it by the end with one hand - holding it down so that when it moved it brushed wonderfully over and against his cock. Lucifer used his free hand to continue to pet and stroke at the tail, slowly - tenderly. A muffled sound came from Alastor; encouraging him, but Lucifer was already about to come.

The deer’s tail was so incredibly soft...it felt so nice...having it pressed against him just in that way...and he could feel Alastor's heat, teasingly close and inviting.

All Al had to do was lift his tail from Lucifer's hands, lift it and tilt his hips and Lucifer would be sliding insi-

Lucifer's rhythm suddenly stuttered, and he was coming into the strands of Alastor's tail.

He suppressed a deep groan at the pleasurable release of it, still maintaining to stay quiet. Breathing heavily, he hurriedly removed the ends of his bowtie from his mouth. Tugging on one end; he pulled the fabric away from Alastor’s face and set it aside for a moment.

“I’m holding you responsible for the clean-up.” Alastor hissed.

“Of course.” Lucifer grunted, reaching for a clean rag from the shelf.

Sighing, Lucifer appreciated the relief from all of his built-up tension; a touch of clarity returning to him now.

“Fuck…thank you, Al.” Lucifer stepped back, moving to put himself away and re-dress. “All good now.”

“Eugh, I may need a moment.” Alastor had pulled his pants back up and was making some adjustments of his own.

“Wait…” Lucifer stopped. “Did-Did that just get you hard!?”

Alastor glanced back at him, his face flushed.

“Oh! Don’t look at me like that, you lech!” Alastor snapped. “We don’t have time for this!” Alastor turned and Lucifer’s eyes dropped straight to his crotch.

Alastor started reaching for his jacket; his shadow slipping into the closet from underneath the door and extending itself to the ceiling.

“Al…that tent is pitched.” Lucifer told him. “That pecker pole is not going away anytime soon.”

“It will! Just…give it a second.”

“I’ve got a better idea.”

Alastor turned at Lucifer’s tone and then the King had him pushed so that his back was against the closet door.

Lucifer immediately went to his knees and was working at Alastor’s pant clasps.

Alastor’s face flushed vibrant red and both of his ears laid out to the sides.

“Luci…”

“This won’t take long.” Lucifer undid the last of the clasps and slid his hand into Alastor’s loosened waistband.

“Wait.” Alastor tensed. Lucifer had him pulled all the way out now and his shadow was jeering down at them in an insane grin.

Lucifer held Alastor’s length in both hands; one sliding and angling so that his clawed fingers could gently grip and stroke at his balls while the other gripped firmly at the base.

Alastor’s ears flattened lower as he nervously dry swallowed, gulping loudly. “Hold on, let’s just –“

“Help me out here?” Lucifer tilted his head and eyed Alastor’s shadow, pumping at Alastor’s length.

The shadow’s grin widened, and it dropped swiftly back down to Alastor. Hands of shadow pulled Alastor’s own hand to his face; muffling his mouth and restraining his body so that he was kept standing still against the door. The shadow’s face leered over the deer demon’s shoulder; it had a wicked grin and it’s sharp green eyes were glowing brightly.

Alastor growled lowly in his throat but, his shadow’s participation meant full consent was granted.

Wasting no more time, Lucifer slid his mouth over Alastor’s hard cock, his soft lips moving past the weeping head of it – warm and wet. Alastor did his best to suppress the groan that bubbled up from him and Lucifer felt the twitching of the engorged organ that was in his mouth.

Softly pumping his hand against Alastor’s base, Lucifer continued playing with the tightening testicles with the pads of his fingers. Lucifer’s head bobbed up and down; pushing the head to Alastor’s curving length closer and closer to that soft padding of tissue just to the back of his throat.

Lucifer could hear Alastor’s sharp intakes and outtakes of breath; the desperately quiet panting he was doing in and out of his nose.

Tilting his face, Lucifer slowed the bobbing he was doing up and down Alastor’s shaft before he gently started sucking; the tip of his tongue brushing and pushing Alastor’s apex to the roof of his mouth. Alastor shuddered and shook pleasurably from the quickly building tension and when Lucifer’s tongue slid across his slit, he felt like his eyes might actually roll into the back of his head and he softly whimpered.

Lucifer released his mouth, stroking at Alastor’s slick and saliva-coated cock.

“Shhhhhh…Al….you’re so fucking rigid.” Lucifer coached him, quietly. “Relax…lean back and tilt your pelvis…perfect. Now stay still and keep quiet!”

Alastor’s shadow tightened it’s hold, and Alastor let his head fall back.

 When Lucifer took him into his mouth this time, he took nearly Alastor’s entire length before pulling back. Clenching his teeth, Alastor fought the impulse to buck and thrust his hips and the claws of his free hand dug sharply into the wood of the door.

Lucifer’s growl of warning buzzed against Alastor’s shaft when he took him again – broken by a wet gag and a gulp - and Alastor felt his quivering tip slide deeper into Lucifer’s throat. Lucifer pulled back again; releasing Alastor’s balls he jerked both hands to Alastor’s hips, and gripped them roughly; leaving dragging claw marks as he took Alastor back into his throat, again and again, deeper and deeper.

Alastor felt Lucifer’s gag reflex tightening against him and with a muffled warning and a pitiful grunt through his nose, Alastor was coming into Lucifer’s mouth.

Moments later, both men were walking down one of the hallways, returning to the lounge.

Lucifer coughed.

“I should apologize to Carmilla.” Lucifer’s voice cracked. “I think I might be coming down with something.” He made a show at thumping his chest and Alastor sighed, saying nothing.

There was a quiet pause, then: “You know, we should cum to these meetings together more often.” Lucifer croaked.

[uupdirector]

Helloooo everyone, and a glorious Friday to you all! Apologies for the radio silence as of recent - past few weeks have had me occupied, and for my own mental sake, I've been taking it easy. While animations haven't taken much of my time, I'm glad I stuck with my commitment of only doing that whenever I felt up to it - makes things a whole less stressful and saves time for other means of working on projects and even some other activities, and boy howdy have I been storming with creativity on ALL those fronts!

Been mostly organizing my ideas together - from updating my spreadsheet, gathering synopses for ideas, and even setting up idea maps for future ideas along the road, and as for that last bit, I'm slowly but surely getting back into the concept phase for Scarlet Combine again.

Of course, it's gonna be a long road before I even come CLOSE to working on that again - I still have a lot of catching up to do with GMod, but this process will definitely help for when I jump back on that ship. I wouldn't get hopes up is all I'm saying, but I'm still looking forward to the future as I always am.

As for those "other activities", man - I NEVER thought I'd finally find a means to get back into drawing again! The Chromebook I daily drive (ASUS CM3 Flip) has been a wonderful little gimmick of mine for the past few weeks, and recently after getting my hands on a USI pen and a GREAT drawing app to scratch that itch (Concepts), it's made me BURST with new ideas. I can't guarantee what it'll lead to, and I'd rather keep it personal until then, but you might see a few new things from me on here as I continue to experiment! :D

Til next time though, hope yall have a great Friday, and here's to an even better weekend! Much love! 💙

[masterjedilenawrites]

I’m not good at making requests, so forgive me if anything come out wrong.

But, could you do something were reader and Tech are fixing some eletronics and listening to cientific things, and start talking about a wrong thing people said there, so they get distracted and when realize, they’re in to a awkward position (like him btween her legs or sth like that)

I love your writing and thanks (: <3

Omg I've been so soft for Tech lately and this prompt is perfect 💚 I hope this is what you were looking for, I really enjoyed writing it!

Tech x reader | 2k words

...making bacta the most important scientific achievement in history...

"Dank farrik," Tech huffed beside you.

You came out of your daze at the sudden exclamation and looked at your friend with concern, trying to quickly figure out what had gone wrong. You were helping him with a project, though what it was exactly you weren't completely certain of. All you knew was it involved digging into the walls of the ship and untangling a lot of wires. You'd been instructed to hold onto several of them, keeping them pulled taught out of the wall so Tech could fiddle with the other ends, and the dullness of the task had caused your mind to wander.

"What's wrong?" you asked, doubtful you'd understand any explanation, but wanting to be sure you hadn't done anything to mess up his progress.

He waved a hand at you dismissively, not pulling his attention away from the work in front of him. "Just the radio," he mumbled.

You hadn't been paying attention; it had only been turned on as background noise to keep you from going insane with boredom. And since it was tuned into some kind of scientific news frequency, you didn't really understand much of what was being said anyway.

...with the most influential application simply being in the field of medicine, providing us higher life forms with a versatile tool in maintaining our quality of life, and potentially even prolonging it...

Tech huffed again. Scoffed. Your mouth quirked at how upset he was getting. It was kind of cute.

But, you had to debate whether engaging with his frustration would be worth it. He had only recently calmed down from his outburst earlier that day, the only time you had ever seen him genuinely upset. Wrecker had accidentally knocked over a piece of machinery that was... well, something very important, apparently. No one was too sure. But Tech had spent most of the week carefully arranging its parts just-so, so that when all his hard work went crashing onto the floor, his breathing had suddenly resembled that of a charging Nexu. He'd drawn himself up, trying to match his brother's height, and ordered the poor guy to never step foot in this part of the ship again. The other Batchers had tried to defend him and were subsequently banned as well.

That left you as the only option for help.

Maybe that meant he wouldn't kick you out for debating him....

"Sounds like they're saying some pretty reasonable things. Am I missing something?"

Tech's fingers, which had been deftly working through the wires before him, clipping some and splicing others, finally froze. The clone's face tilted over to you, his eyes looking a little too judgmental through those glasses for your liking.

"You think bacta is the most important scientific achievement?" he asked. You didn't like his tone, either.

You scrunched your mouth in thought, actually giving the question serious consideration. While you mulled it over, Tech stood up from his hunched position in the wall and started pulling on some of the wires, unraveling them from their tangled mess.

"Yeah," you finally decided. "I think medicine in general is pretty important. And bacta specifically is the strongest known substance to deliver fast and effective healing."

Tech was mostly focused on the wires, but he spared you a glance.

"And treating symptoms is the most important thing for humanity? Here, hold this." He added another wire for you to hold in your hands.

You knew it was a loaded question so you chose to answer it with one of your own. "Well if it's not bacta or medicine, then what would it be?"

"Electricity," he said quickly and assertively, as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. He continued to focus more on his work and you were annoyed he didn't seem to want to offer up an explanation to his opinion, despite having made you give one. He'd finally untangled the wires and was back to leaning into the cavern in the wall and setting them into their proper places.

"Why electricity?" You hated how dumb your question sounded; obviously you understood the concept and understood its importance. You just really wanted to challenge him to give you some explanations.

"For one, most medicines would not be able to be mass-produced were it not for the electrically-run vats in which they are made." He held his hand out behind him and made a grabbing motion. "Blue, please."

You sorted out the blue wire and passed it over.

"For another," he continued, his voice sounding distant as he leaned further away into the wall, "we must ask what constitutes a quote-unquote important achievement. For example, is an achievement worthy of the title simply because it improves our quality of life? Green, please."

You handed over the corresponding wire. "I'd say it's more about preserving life. Even outside of war, there's enough injury and illness that would end life were it not for medicine to heal them."

"Ah, but in that same reasoning, electricity also sustains life. It powers sources of light and warmth, which can also provide a means of boiling water and cooking food. All keys to survival. Yellow, please."

"So does fire," you shot back. "People survived long before electricity, and there's still plenty of civilizations living fine without it."

Tech finally emerged from the wall and took the last few wires from you, the red and black ones. He met your eyes with an earnestness that let you know how much he was enjoying this conversation. "And people have survived without medicine. At least the manufactured forms that you're arguing for, like bacta. Traditional medicine is as sufficient as fire."

Before you could respond, Tech moved to the side, motioning toward the wall with his head and holding up the remaining wires.

"Now, unfortunately these last ones need to be clipped in down below. I'm not able to fit through the lattice of the floor, but someone of your stature easily could."

You stepped forward and peered down. It was a mess of machinery and pipes and beams, but you could clearly see the port where the wires had been yanked out earlier. You knelt down, resting your stomach on the edge of the wall, but paused before bending over.

"If it wasn't for bacta, you wouldn't have been born." You were confident in your comeback and thus didn't linger for his reaction, turning to bend down into the ship with your wires instead.

You were disappointed to hear his soft chuckle from above you.

"And what do you think powers the bacta tanks that hold the clone embryos?"

You were glad he couldn't see the frustrated frown on your face. While you tried to think of a new point in your debate, you snapped the red wire into the proper port. But then you realized you couldn't quite reach the black one, and started carefully shimmying forward, deeper into the wall.

"It seems we have circled back to the initial question," Tech offered in your silence. You felt his hands hold on to your hips, steadying you as your legs lifted from the floor, most of your body now inside the ship. You didn't think anything of it, though, your focus split between your task and his words. "What makes an achievement the most important? Both medicine and electricity are capable of preserving life, but neither are essential to survival. So, what criteria are we left with?"

You were finally within reach of the last port and pushed the wire into it. "Sounds like you already have the right answer, so why don't you stop teasing me and just say it?" you called up to him.

"I...I didn't mean to sound like I was teasing."

You could hear the apology in his voice, how truly caught off guard he was to hear that you had perceived his attempts at a friendly debate, a conversation, as mocking or disrespectful. Your stomach knotted up in guilt, making your journey to wiggle back out of the wall a little more difficult.

"I'm sorry, Tech," you said through a grunt as you tried to push yourself back. "I didn't mean to sound rude. I just don't know the answer."

You felt his arms snake around your middle, pulling you the last of the way out. You came to rest on your knees, breathing heavily at the sudden increase in air supply. Tech was crouched alongside you, his chest against part of your back, his arms still holding you.

"I honestly don't know the answer, either," he blinked down at you, speaking quietly. "I don't know what criteria would constitute the most important scientific achievement. I thought maybe we could figure it out if we kept discussing it."

You craned your neck around to look at him, unconcerned about the discomfort it took to do so. You needed to face him fully. "Or... maybe we don't need to figure it out? I mean, does there need to be one achievement labeled more important than any other? Can they not all be valued equally?"

"I suppose..." he relented. But only a little. "It is a fun thought exercise, though."

You smiled at that, and it made your heart flutter a little to see him return the expression. There were a few seconds between you where you sat pleasantly in each other's arms... before the realization hit that you were in each other's arms.

"Uh," Tech stuttered first. His eyes looked about frantically as if the more he saw of you practically sitting in his lap, the more he would know what to do about it.

Your face was hot and your heart thumped forcefully in your chest. But you weren't panicking. Even though you'd been around the Bad Batch for a while now, this was the first time you'd gotten physically close to any of them, especially this dorky genius, who made you feel just a little better about life than the others did. You hadn't been sure why, not until this moment, your face being mere inches away from his own. Now it clicked.

His arms had removed themselves from your frame and he was starting to crawl backward on the floor. You quickly grasped his shoulder to stop him.

"Tech, wait."

He froze, looking at you with wide, apprehensive eyes. His shoulder was tense so you relaxed your grasp and simply let your hand rest on it gently. You gave him a small smile. Thankfully these little gestures were enough encouragement for him to lean back to you. He still looked at you timidly, but he wasn't pulling away anymore. It seemed like maybe he had been feeling the same things about you.

"Yes?"

He was waiting for you to make the next move.

"So, this project," you stalled, needing just a little more time to work up the courage. "What is it again? Why did I just crawl into the bowels of the ship?"

Your face was creeping closer to his, breath gently fanning across each other, warm but refreshing.

"I... I..." Tech seemed to be short-circuiting. "I was just, uh, re... redecorating."

Your nose had just brushed his when you suddenly frowned and moved back to look at him questioningly. "Redecorating... wires?"

You were very amused at how flustered he seemed to be in this situation. But then the tables turned as Tech rolled with it.

"Yeah, I didn't like the way they looked in there. Wanted to change things up. You know me."

The smile on our face spread as he talked and you couldn't hold back your laughter any longer. You bent forward, resting your forehead in the crook of his neck while your body convulsed with giggles. Tech laughed along, bringing his arms back around you to hold you in place. When you finally looked up at him and the shit-eating grin he had plastered on his face, you knew you'd finally found your courage.

"Oh, Tech..." you chided, pressing your smiling lips against his own.

[dangercocktail]

Ranger Danger

The vibrational dance of Noah’s cell phone dragged him away from the horror movie splaying blood across his television. As a young starlet screamed and ran with poor coordination through the woods, Noah scanned the stream of incoming texts. 

“Damn,” he muttered, running a hand over his dark hair. The incoming texts were from work. As his supervisor implored Noah’s help, he discerned they needed him to come in even though he was off duty. Some sort of mild emergency that he couldn’t quite put together. Glancing at his phone’s clock, he read that it was a little after midnight. He quickly replied ‘be there soon’, flipped off the movie, and headed into his bedroom.

Noah slipped off his gym shorts and quickly dressed in the forest ranger uniform all his coworkers wore. He gave himself a routine glance in the mirror to finish buttoning his shirt. Noah filled out his uniform with a lean beefiness acquired from miles of hiking and lifting fallen trees, his sizable biceps straining the short sleeve cuffs of his shirt. With his striking brown complexion, easy smile, and muscles, Noah was a handsome representation of the Forestry Department, frequently called in to give tours to visiting government officials or bored tour groups of sexually frustrated housewives. He always maintained a calm demeanor in the most straining of circumstances, deftly handling questions with charm. He assumed the ‘emergency’ he was needed for now was something that required his level headed thinking. Weaving his belt into the buckle of his trim waist and grabbing his hat, he headed out to his Jeep.

As Noah drove into the darker recesses of the woods where his ranger station was located, he lowered the windows on his Jeep to take in the bracing smell of pine trees and cool night air. He inhaled deeply. He loved these woods. Having worked as a ranger now for almost five years, he felt at home in this forest, having hiked its expansive trails many times over.

Pulling up to Ranger Station #04, Noah saw his District Ranger standing in the soft yellow light of the station doorway waiting for him. Taking the only remaining parking spot next to the station, Noah observed that Ben and Daniel were on duty tonight, their cars parked next to the DR’s own Ranger Jeep. 

“Hey Jim,” Noah said, lifting a hand in acknowledgment as he approached the station. “How’s it going? You were slightly ambiguous in your texts...what’s going on?”

“Hey Noah, thanks for coming on such short notice,” Jim said, his smile tired but friendly. Jim was middle aged and handsome, having served in the military for several years before leaving service for a position in the Forestry Department. His body was slightly thicker than Noah’s in the middle due to Jim’s fondness for doughnuts but the small rounded softness there was offset by thick arms that easily heaved many forest obstacles.

“Ben and Daniel missed their last two audio checks so I drove over to check the station,” Jim explained, walking with Noah into the small station. He gestured to the radio log. “Last I heard from them was at nine thirty, then radio silence.”

Noah raised an eyebrow but only slightly. This wasn’t a big emergency, the guys were probably taking their time on their latest rounds. Ben and Daniel were known for getting high on these late night shifts, then strolling deep into the woods observing the enhanced beauty of the stars.

“Where’s their observation log?” Noah said, shuffling a few of the scattered papers on the desk to the side.

“Here,” Jim said, handing a clipboard to Noah. Noah flipped through a few of the sheets before reading the top page. Ben and Daniel had logged every hourly observation walk up until 10 pm. The last two spots for the day, the eleven and midnight observation, were conspicuously blank. Still, Noah wasn’t alarmed.

“They’re probably sitting under a tree marveling at the Big Dipper,” Noah said with a smile at Jim, looking up from the clipboard. He handed it back to Jim who set it on the desk.

“You’re not wrong but let’s follow protocol and run our own observation. Shouldn’t be too hard to find these two” Jim said, adding a new sheet to the clipboard. “I apologize for making you come out here but safety first right? Two man teams always”.

Jim scribbled the time, his rank, and initials in the one o’clock slot then handed it over to Noah for his own initials. Both of them grabbed a flashlight and radio, locked the station door, and headed out into the woods, following the well worn starter path every ranger had trod day in and out.

The night air settled around the two rangers in a cool mist as fallen pine needles crunched underneath their boots. They made small chatter occasionally but mostly remained quiet, something Noah appreciated about Jim. They both enjoyed the quiet of the forest, preferring the majesty of their surroundings to the noise most humans make to fill the air.

Nearly halfway through their observational walk with no sign of other rangers, Noah stopped and looked closely at a break in the trail. The trampled and well worn path of the trail continued on but to the right, the undergrowth was disturbed. Pointing it out to Jim, the two concurred that this was a recent disturbance of the forest and most likely Ben and Daniel had veered off trail, high and looking for a place to watch stars. Picking their way through the flora, the two rangers followed the new trail.

Despite the circumstances, Noah was enjoying the walk into this new part of the forest. It was rare for the rangers to disturb parts of the forest beyond the trail without good cause. Finding Ben and Daniel was sufficient cause enough to walk in these uncharted paths and Noah took in his surroundings with a slight feeling of contentment and awe. The forest really was beautiful.

The upended pine needle path continued for some time, Noah estimating nearly fifteen minutes since they had veered from the main trail. He was starting to feel slightly concerned and opened his mouth to say something to Jim when he heard a sharp slapping sound. Glancing over, he saw Jim removing his left hand from his right arm.

“God damn mosquito,” Jim uttered, wiping the remains of the crumpled creature onto his pants. 

“Yea, consistently the worst thing out he-...” Noah started saying then cocked his ear as his sentence dropped off.

“Do you hear that?” he asked Jim, tilting his head further. Jim froze in place and listened as well. Somewhere in front of them, not too far, there was a low rumbling noise. It sounded almost guttural to Noah, like water pouring from a giant jug.

Putting a finger to his lips to keep silent, Noah began carefully walking forward with Jim right behind him. The noise grew slightly louder with each step they took until suddenly, it stopped. They stopped in their tracks. Noah cocked an eyebrow at Jim and motioned with a questioning gesture of his hand, “keep going?”

Jim nodded and the two men pressed forward through the darkness of the forest and bush. Noah noted in a corner of his mind that he had never been to this part of the forest on any of his inquiries or observations; the wood seemed completely untouched by humans save for the newly beaten down path they were following. Jim stopped for a moment and appeared to be fidgeting with his belt but at Noah’s curious look, he waved them forward and they continued. Eventually they reached a small clearing by a pond that immediately struck Noah with its serene natural splendor. However as they stepped out into the clearing, they both heard and saw them at the same time. It took Noah a beat to fully comprehend what he was looking at. 

Near the edge of the pond lay a blanket and small radio, still playing the local college station. On either side of the blanket were two enormous spheres of flesh, completely naked and wobbling slightly as Jim and Noah approached. 

“What the fuck…” Noah said as he approached the shapes slowly, observing them not moving from their spot but jiggling and shaking in place.

“Oh shit, it’s fucking Ben and Daniel,” Jim uttered as he drew closest to the quivering shape on the right. Noah’s face took on incredulity as he drew close to the left. The flesh colored ball was indeed a man but blown up to enormous proportions. His legs and feet hovered almost a foot off the ground from the immensity of his ass, Noah judging it to be almost eight feet wide. The legs themselves were encased in roll after roll of fat to the point that Noah couldn’t discern where the knees might have been, the feet themselves swollen almost unrecognizable and sinking into the fat above them. Moving his eyes up, Noah took in a belly that covered half of the fattened legs and spread out in all directions, matching the width of that enormous ass, with a belly button itself six inches wide and receding darkly into the piles of belly fat. 

Two enormous breasts sat atop the behemoth of a belly, swollen and perky like two plastic grocery bags filled with pudding. They shook slightly in the night air as Noah observed the entire body jiggle, then suddenly swell out a little more. The feet at the bottom of this mass had almost disappeared. Two arms lay to the side of the massive torso, seemingly stuck and disappearing into the expanding rolls of fat as well. As his eyes traveled finally up to the face, Noah saw the faint hint of the face that used to be Ben. His neck had ceased to exist as roll after roll of fat took up the space above his breasts and connected with his cheeks. Ben’s cheeks had become intensely rosy, swollen to a state that it looked like he had a baseball in each.

Noah saw Ben glance down at him and begin to grunt, uttering something that Noah couldn’t make out. 

“Ben, what the fuck happened…” Noah said in shock, recalling the two fit men who he had joked with a week ago in passing shifts. This quivering mass of fat was at least eight times fatter than Ben had been.

“Moosh..” Ben uttered, slurping and trying to enunciate with his fat forced pouty lips. 

“Moosh!” he forcefully said, his eyes darting wildly as that rumbling Noah had heard before in the woods sounded. It was coming from Ben’s belly. Glancing over quickly at Jim and Daniel, he saw Daniel’s belly start jiggling then begin swelling in all directions. The man was expanding massively. His arms and legs disappeared into the expansive fat of his belly, leaving him almost completely ball-shaped. He was nearly nine feet around, with only hands and feet still visible on his appendages. His breasts, the same size as Ben’s, inflated as they jiggled, nearing the size of basketballs.

Noah looked back to Ben, absentmindedly slapping the back of his neck as an insect bit him. The now almost unrecognizable ball of fat that was Ben was going wild eyed, trying in vain to shout something, his lips forced even more open from the recent gains to his cheeks.

“Msssh!” he sputtered, his whole body quivering. 

“I can’t understand you..what the hell happened here Ben?” Noah asked in horror, then turned sharply when he heard Jim cry out.

Jim stood next to the enormous ball that was Daniel, holding his stomach and looking down in shock.

“Jim, what’s wrong?” Noah yelled, beginning to walk over. 

“I..don’t...know…” Jim uttered, right before the first button on his ranger uniform popped off. It was quickly followed in succession by a second and third button as Jim’s dough middle rapidly swole into a beach ball shape. His love handles quickly expanded to the sides as his chest developed two breast shaped mounds. His cheeks fattened and a double chin wobbled into place as Noah heard Jim’s pants rip as his ass followed suit. In the matter of thirty seconds, Jim suddenly looked to be over three hundred pounds.

“Oh fuck, Noah, it’s happening to me!”  Jim yelled, waddling slightly over to where Noah stood. 

“The hell is happening here?” Noah exclaimed, his eyes shooting from the fat man in front of him to the unrecognizable blobs of men to his side. The rumbling noise came back then, but this time, it started with Jim. Jim’s eyes went wide as he clutched with chubby fingers at the fattened sphere now occupying his front. The noise rose exponentially as it began coming from Ben and Daniel as well. Noah watched as Jim’s belly began growing again, pounds and pounds of fat piling on in waves. Jim began waving his arms in shock as his entire body inflated and began to take on a generally round shape, his feet slowly slipping on the wet grass of the clearing until he fell with a thud onto his immensely fattened ass. Noah observed him begin rising in the air as the fat continued to grow and Jim began to become another ball.

Ben and Daniel themselves had also grown more, their faces beginning to sink into the sheer mass of their rolls of fat. Ben was still trying to tell Noah something but it was just sputtering noises at this point. Noah backed away from the insane scene like he had observed something otherworldly, his eyes wide and his feet stumbling occasionally. A pit in his stomach had developed which he attributed to terror but as he turned to begin running, something brought him up short. A small popping sound rang through the air as he tried to run and he felt something heavy bounce on the front of his body. Looking down, he cried as watched his own midsection, now the size of a fleshy basketball, wobble and grow double in size. 

“No…” Noah uttered, stumbled a bit as his chest began to swell. He looked back to Jim who now was completely naked and becoming fully ball shaped.

“No!” Noah yelled, as he heard the rumbling begin again in Ben, Daniel, and Jim’s bellies. He grasped at his shirt as it fully ripped open, then felt his fingers clutch his doughy middle when he heard the rumbling start in his own belly. Turning to face the other fattened spheres that were once rangers, Noah felt his entire body begin jiggling then quickly begin to grow…

[vampireacademysims]

<< PREVIOUS | NEXT >> Start from: Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Belated Happy New Year and Merry Christmas the ones celebrating under the Orthodox faith. With the first friday of 2022 means this train is leaving the station again and the comic is again back on track. I could’ve started posting again during Christmas, but I decided for a fresh re-start with the new year.

So lets recap where we left Rose [or you can just click on the previous link to visit the previous page]:

Rose met Sydney, an Alchemist, that knows the location of a Siberian town Rose believes Dimitri to be at but she can’t remember the name of. Sydney refused to tell Rose the name or location of that town and is instead taking her there herself, as per orders of her Alchemist superiors. Neither Rose or Sydney are happy with this outcome, but they hop onto the Trans-Siberian train and start the 3 day journey.............

Bellow the cut are some musings and explanations about how things happened and are going forwards with the comic, if anyone is interested. The main idea is, the comic is here to stay for a while, so thank you for not giving up on it/me. (featuring some sims by @blackswan-sims)

As I been mentioning on and off, the final pages of chapter 4, full chapter 5 and 6 are finished, meaning 38 pages are guaranteed. As of right now, all the pages for January, February and half of March are edited and queued, so yay? Also not posting on Christmas gave me some extra days for editing and set myself ahead and prevent falling behind. I must apologize for, apparently, doing diddly squat during 2021, which is mostly true for the first 6 months of the year. I worked very little on the comic because I kept getting demotivated/bored/dreading having to make certain things so I avoided it like the plague. I really, REALLY, envy anyone who can self-motivate, because I sure can’t. I’m running on stubbornness and spite these days lol. I’m the kind that needs a pat in the back and a ‘hey good job‘ to keep me going from time to time or else I try to give up. So I must thank @veninorchid and her constant pom-pom waving that mostly kept me going. I also took a page of her wisdom, to stop and build a stash instead of shooting, editing and posting a page week to week, which caused me burnout constantly. So that’s what I’ve been doing since September, I been shooting and gathering material and taking pauses when I thought I needed to. This means that, if I finish all the editing fast, I can take a long rest and work on other sims pics, (mostly OC stuff like this) and start chapter 7 while I still have pages posting. I should’ve been doing this from the start, really. I’d say I’m not the brightest crayon in the box, but I just never expected the comic to be this much work. I’m just slow at editing - as in pretty takes time and I’m the type that will be editing shadows and stuff you’ll need to zoom in to 500x to be able see lol Being a perfectionist sucks, take it from me.

So I thank you or sticking around and for your support up until now. I apologize for having made you wait this long, I hope all that’s coming will make it up for the radio silence I put this under. I am sorry, but still I thank you. And hello to the ones that recently started fallowing, you guys had to wait way less.

Hopefully you’ll deem the wait worth it.

[atlafan]

Part One - “Call me Jane.”

a/n: here’s part one of nanny!H, I’m very excited about this series. I’m not sure how many parts it’s going to be, so please don’t ask lmao. Once I know how many parts it’ll be, I’ll make a master post for it. I’m just too excited not at least share the first part because Harry is just too cute in this! Feedback and reblogs are super helpful, and keep me motivated, especially when it comes to writing series. (not proofread) You can support me here if you’re able!

Warnings: none...for now

Words: 4.1K

Pairing: Harry x OC (Jane Watson)

Master Post

Harry found himself in a real bind. He was twenty-six years old, had an early childhood education degree, and the daycare he worked at was going under. He had just been promoted a month prior too, how could things go wrong so quickly? Times like this he really hated that he stayed in the states. Childcare services weren’t nearly as fucked up back home. His dream was to save up enough money to open up his own pre-school at some point, but it was really tough.

There was this weird stigma that if adult men wanted to work with babies and toddlers then that made them a pedophile or something of the sort. That wasn’t the case with Harry. His minor in school was psychology because cognitive development intrigued him. He also loved babies and little ones. He loved watching them learn and discover.

Only now, he was without a job in an already struggling field. He and the other employees weren’t exactly given a big notice before they were told the business was going under. Harry mostly felt bad for the parents of the kids that had to find new child care centers. He knew he’d have to compete with his co-workers for any available jobs, and he knew they were bound to find places before him because they were women. It was their fault, and he knew it. He was experiencing a prejudice that they must face all the time.

He looked into Care.com, but none of the jobs on there seemed like long-term gigs, and he didn’t want to just be a glorified baby sitter. He figured if he could find a well paying nannying job, he could do that for a bit until finding a job at a new facility, or even set up his dream pre-school. During his search on Indeed, he saw a position for a live-in nanny – jackpot! Live-in meant long-term, and long-term meant lots of money. It also meant he could get rid of his apartment and not have to pay rent for a while. He clicked on the ad that was posted only a couple of weeks ago.

Live-in Nanny Needed for Help with Eight-Month-Old

Minimum requirements:

·        Bachelor’s in either early childhood education or elementary education

·        At least two years’ experience working babies/children

Three professional references required

Applicant is subject to thorough background check for the safety of the child and mother.

Other tasks as needed include:

·        Cooking

·        Light cleaning

·        Grocery shopping/running other errands

If applicant is selected, they will be paid a flat rate of $1600 bi-weekly, will live in “in-law” section of the house, and a car will be provided for them. A resume, cover letter, and three professional references may be sent directly to jpwatson@gmail.com

After reading everything over, this seemed like Harry’s best bet. Some of it seemed a little too good to be true, but this was a risk he needed to take right now. He just hoped the position hadn’t already been filled. That night he spent some time updating his LinkedIn, making sure all of his privacy settings were up to date on all of his social media, and then wrote out a resume and cover letter. The last part was his least favorite because he knew a proper resume and cover letter had to be curated to the specific job, and it made things all the more tedious. By the time he was done, it was late. He didn’t want to seem unprofessional, so he waited to send the email until the next morning.

Subject: Nannying Advert on Indeed

To: jpwatson@gmail.com

From: hes2194@gmail.com

Good morning,

My name is Harry and I’m interested in the nannying advert you’ve posted on Indeed. For the last four years I’ve been working at P.B. & J.’s Child Care Center, and was recently promoted to team lead. Unfortunately, the business itself couldn’t remain afloat, and I was laid off.

Attached are my resume and cover letter. I’d be happy to provide the three references if I end up being considered for the position.

Thank you for your time and consideration,

Harry

Treat People With Kindness

He closes his laptop with a satisfied sigh after proofreading his email ten different times before he hit send. He takes a sip from his coffee, and sits back on his sofa. Now all he had to do was wait.

//

There was radio silence for two days. Harry was starting to think he would need to keep job hunting. He had bills to pay, and the last thing he wanted to do was ask his parents for help. They already looked down on his profession as it was. If he had his own car he’d become an uber driver or something, but he didn’t so he couldn’t. Then, by some stroke of luck, at 4:55PM on a Thursday, he gets an email from the address he had been hoping to see pop up.

Subject: Re: Nannying Advert on Indeed

To: hes2194@gmail.com

From: jpwatson@gmail.com

Good evening Harry,

My name is Jane Watson, thank you so much for your application. My apologies it has taken me a couple of days to get back to you. I am usually more responsive, but things have been a little crazy at work as of late. Upon further review of your resume and over letter, I would like to offer you an interview this Saturday at noon, if you are available. I can be flexible if that day and time do not work for you.

If you are able to come, and are still interested in the position, I ask that you please bring your references with you. I will want to call them right away. I am sure you can understand me wanting to thoroughly look into you before letting you into my daughter’s life.

I look forward to hearing back from you soon.

All my best,

Jane

Harry responded to her right away, he didn’t care how eager he seemed. He told her Saturday at noon worked great, and that he would definitely have his references, and anything else he needed to provide. She emailed him back an hour or so later with her cell phone number and address. For the first time in a while, Harry felt like he could breathe again. He knew it wasn’t a done deal that he’d be getting the job, but he was being given a chance, and for that he was thankful.

//

He wanted to make a good first impression on Saturday, so he made sure to wash his hair in the shower, and use his good mousse so his hair would look more orderly. He shaved to give himself that clean and sleek look, this was not a day to appear scruffy. He knew he didn’t need to be overly dressed up, but he also knew that you’re supposed to dress for the job you want and not the job you have. He irons a pair of tan slacks and pairs it with a blue button up. Not to brag, but his bum looked great in these slacks, and it was giving him all the confidence in the world. He puts on a floral tie, just to show a bit of his personality, makes sure his nail polish isn’t chipped, and makes sure all of his rings are looking shiny. He takes an uber out to Jane’s house. It was in a gated community, which he was expecting since he looked up the house beforehand. He wondered what she or her husband did for work to live in a place like this. Or perhaps she inherited the home? Either way, he was excited.

He thanks the driver, and knocks on the door as he was instructed to do. A woman with silver hair that was up in a nice bun opens the door.

“Hello, you must be Mr. Styles.” She smiles.

“Yes, hello.” He smiles back.

“I’m MaryAnne, please come in.” She steps aside to let Harry in.

“Thank you.”

“Miss Watson is just pumping, but you can wait for her here in her office.” She leads Harry down a corridor where he meets a grand double door. MaryAnne opens them and shows him inside. “Make yourself comfortable, dear. Can I get you anything? Coffee, water, tea?”

“I’m all set, but thank you very much.”

The woman nods and leaves him in the room alone. He stays standing as he didn’t want to assume where he should be sitting. There was a gorgeous desk with two chairs on the other side, but there was also a small round table with four chairs around it in the corner. She clearly held a lot of meetings here, or so it would seem. To pass the time he looks over her bookshelves, scanning over what she might be into. She seemed to be into fiction, but he had never heard of any of the books on some of the shelves, or the author. She had several by the same person. Before he could look further, he heard the clacking of heels on the hardwood floors approaching him.

Everything stopped when she walked in. Jane had her hair up in a flowing ponytail, a white blouse covered her top half, he notices that the first few buttons were left undone, probably to help with her pumping, and she had a black pencil skirt on that just came to her knees. She was short, and a little voluptuous, not that Harry was checking her out.  

“Hello, Mr. Styles, I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” He goes to stick his hand out for her to shake, but she walks around him and sits down at her desk. “Please, have a seat.”

He swallows and sits down.

“Y-you can just call me Harry if you like, Mrs. Watson.”

“I’m a Miss not a missus.” She says as she takes out a folder with a few sheets in it and a pen. “It says here you graduated Summa Cum Laude from Lesley University. That’s an incredible place to get a degree in education.”

“Thank you, I got a pretty decent scholarship, it was my reach school. I minored in psychology as well. I did my practicum hours at a daycare center that specialized in caring for children with disabilities. So, I’ve worked with all sorts of children. I prefer working with infants and toddlers, though.”

“And why is that?” She looks at him, clicking her pen, ready to take notes.

“Well, I just have more fun with them, to be honest. I like watching them discover new things. My favorite thing to do while working in the baby room at my last job was working with the babies on their tummy times. It was always rewarding to watch them get stronger. I feel like I just bond with them better.”

“I need to ask you some personal questions since this is a live-in position.”

“Of course.” Harry nods.

“Are you in any sort of relationship with anyone?”

“No, I’m single.”

“Have you ever been arrested, or do you have any sort of criminal history?”

“No.”

“I’m not one to judge, I think everyone deserves a second chance, I just have to ask these sort of things.” She says.

“I don’t have a criminal record, Miss Watson.”

“History of drug use?”

“I smoked a bit of weed when I was younger, but I don’t anymore. An edible once in a while, maybe, but never when I’m on the clock.”

“Just marijuana?”

“I’ve done shrooms a few times, but nothing other than that. Stupid kid stuff.”

“Again, not judging. I’d prefer you don’t have any drugs in the house, unless they’re for medical use. I know edibles can be prescribed by doctors for anxiety and whatnot.” Harry nods at that. “What about alcohol? You’re twenty-six, you must enjoy a drink after a long day.”

“A glass of red once in a while, sure.” He nods. “But I’m not really a heavy drinker, I never have been. I’d say if anything I’m a social drinker, but you watch me carefully at a party you’ll notice that I nurse the same drink.” He smirks.

“I’m the same way. A little bit of a buzz is fun, but anything more can be a bit scary. I actually cannot remember the last time I had a real drink.” She looks off in thought.

“Well, can’t you drink now that the baby’s here?”

“And have to succumb to a pump and dump?” She scoffs. “No way, that would be a total waste. It’s torture enough to sit there while a machine sucks the milk out of my-“ She stops herself. “Sorry.” She shakes her head. “Anyways, your resume was impressive, and you were quite articulate in your cover letter. You’re the only candidate I’ve invited for an interview.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She nods. “I really wanted someone with experience, not someone fresh out of college looking for a place to live. You’d really be okay with living here?”

“Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor. My long-term goal is to either have a daycare or pre-school of my own someday. Not having to pay rent for a while would really help me save up for that.”

“That’s an incredible goal to have, Harry.” She smiles, impressed by his ambition. “What questions do you have for me?”

“I just want to clarify, your daughter is eight months?” Jane nods. “And what’s her name?”

“Lilly.” Jane smiles.

“That’s a beautiful name.” Harry smiles. “Why exactly do you need a live-in nanny?”

“I work a lot.” She sighs. “And I’m a single mom. I want her to always have someone here that she can depend on and feel comfortable with. Sometimes my work drags me out in the middle of the night, or I have to take a phone call at an odd hour. I just want someone else here in case I can’t be if something comes up.”

“So, her father’s not in the picture?”

“No.” Her features sour a bit. “He doesn’t even know she exists to be perfectly honest with you. I found out I was pregnant after we broke up, and I decided not to tell him about her. He was a deadbeat moocher, he would have been useless.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but thank you for telling me. May I ask, how old are you?”

“Twenty-nine, does that matter?”

“No! No, I was just more so curious. You seem pretty successful to be in a home like this. In the advert, you stated I’d be given a car as well, that’s not exactly cheap.”

“You’ll be given access to one of my cars.” She says. “I’m not giving you a car, make no mistake about that.” She smirks. “I’m an author, a successful one.” Harry tries to think if he’s ever heard of a Jane Watson before, but he’s coming up blank. “You’ve never heard of me because I have a pen name. If it’s all the same, I don’t really want to share it with you. Not yet, anyways.”

“Sure…wait…are you offering me the job?”

“Not quite. I’d like you to meet my daughter. I want to see how she interacts with you.”

“I’d love to meet Lilly.” He smiles.

“Great, before we do that, do you have more questions?”

“Yes, who’s MaryAnne? Is she, like, a maid or housekeeper?”

“No.” Jane laughs. “She’s my personal assistant. I usually answer the door myself, but pumping took a bit longer than usual.”

“When did you publish your first work?”

“When I was twenty.” She smiles. “I was still in school, and I decided just to self-publish. It took off, and a few companies reached out to me. I eventually got an agent, and the rest was history. I’m a fast writer, I’m able to churn out more projects than most people, and for whatever reason they keep becoming hits. One of the reasons I travel a lot is that a couple of my works are being turned into television shows, and working out those contracts is a lot. I want to be a part of the process to make sure the stories are told correctly.”

“That’s incredible!”

“it is.” She nods. “I never thought I’d be a television producer, but here I am. I don’t really want Lilly around all that, so there’s another reason for having a live-in nanny.”

“This may seem like a silly question, but will I have time off?”

“Oh my goodness, of course! The salary is negotiable as well. You’ll have weekends off, as well as all bank and national holidays. You’ll also earn vacation time and sick leave like at any other job. You’ll be given a benefits package as well, if you need health insurance.”

“You…you provide stuff like that?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“I’ve just never heard of a nannying job quite like this before.” He blinks. “It feels too good to be true.”

“I’m just a firm believer in compensating someone properly. I believe in investing in the people you have.”

“Right.” He swallows. He almost starting to feel like he was going to be her sugar baby or something, but he obviously knew that wasn’t the case. “You asked me about my dating life, what about yours?”

“I’m also single. Lilly is my top priority, and then comes my work. I’m completely fulfilled as is.” She stands from her desk. “Come, I’ll give you a tour of the house, and of the in-law space, and then you can meet Lilly.”

“Okay.” He stands up and follows her out of the office.

She shows him the living room, which felt more like a study. There was an entertainment room with a huge flat screen, deluxe loungers, a pool table, and bar. She shows him to the kitchen which was equally as extravagant. She brings him upstairs to show him all of the bedrooms.

“This is Lilly’s room.” Jane says proudly.

“it’s beautiful, I love the light purple.”

“So do I.” She says. “My room is down the hall, don’t think you need a tour of that.” She laughs and they head back downstairs. “Here’s the inside entrance to the in-law, but there’s also an exterior entrance you can use…or if you have guests over.” Harry’s in awe of the space. It was larger than his apartment. “It’s a one bedroom flat essentially. There’s a full bath en suite, and there’s a half bath over there. Open concept kitchen and living area. It’s fully furnished as well. Feel free to decorate it however you like. I just ask that this space stays yours. There’s really no reason for you to bring Lilly in here, you know?”

“Sure, yeah. This is amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it. Let’s just hope Lilly like you.” Jane smirks, and they head back to the main part of the house, and into Lilly’s playroom. She was sitting with MaryAnne in a large rocking chair. “M, you can feel free to go back to your office if you like. Harry’s going to get acquainted with Lilly.”

“Of course.” MaryAnne stands up with the baby, and hands her over to Jane.

“She has an office here too?” Harry asks.

“Of course she does, and one of the guest rooms upstairs is hers to use when she needs it.” She kisses the top of her daughter’s head. “Lilly,” she coos, “I have someone I’d like you to meet.” She gestures for Harry to take her, and he happily does so.

“Hey, baby girl.” Harry coos. Bright hazel eyes look up at him in wonder. He lets her latch onto his index finger. “It’s so nice to meet you.” He looks at Jane. “She’s precious, Miss Watson.”

“Isn’t she?” Jane beams. “She’s really been enjoying her bouncy, and messing around with her blocks. I have some CD’s I like having her listen to as well. Oh! We did a paint with pudding night as a sensory play thing, it was a hoot.” She chuckles.

“Those are great, aren’t they? Very stimulating, and it teaches the child that sometimes messes are okay.” He looks down at Lilly and smiles. “May I sit with her in the rocking chair?”

“Please!” She gestures to it, and she sits down on the loveseat in the room. Harry sits down with Lilly, cradling her carefully. He adjusts her so she’s able to stand on his lap. She bounces herself and giggles. “Look at that!” Jane exclaims. “I love it when she does that.”

“She’s awfully sweet.” Harry smiles, and then he looks at Jane. “How much do you feed her?”

“I give her roughly twenty-four to thirty-two ounces a day. You’ll know how hungry she is or isn’t in the moment. I’ve started giving her pureed butternut squash, mashed bananas and strawberries, she’s got that puffed baby cereal as well. I’ve also started giving her ground chicken in really small doses just to get her some protein, but right now I’ve mostly been sticking to fruits and veggies. You must know a lot about what foods to give a baby?”

“I do.” He nods. “You’re still producing that much milk to give her daily?”

“I’ve almost been wishing I’d dry up. I get so sore somedays.” Jane sighs. “But I figure it’s good for her to have it while I can still make it. I’m not opposed to formular or anything…but I like bonding with her in that way. I got rid of her baby acne by rubbing my nipple on her skin, it was like magic.”

“It’s certainly a trick of the trade.” He smirks at her. “I remember learning that in one of my courses, and I was amazed. You all are super humans.”

Jane watches Harry play on the ground with Lilly for a bit. Harry was already so wonderful with her. Harry starts to smell something, and so does Jane.

“Think it’s time for a diaper change.” He chuckles and picks her up. “Would you like me to change her?”

“Yeah, I’d like to see you do it.”

He brings Lilly over to the changing table, and lays her down.

“I know you’re all warm and cozy, but I need to disrupt that for a moment.” He says to the baby girl who was babbling and blowing little spit bubbles, totally unbothered. Harry unsnaps her onesie, and lifts her legs to detach the diaper. His eyes widen at the type of diaper that’s on her. “You cloth diaper?” He looks at Jane.

“It’s better for the environment.” She shrugs. “There’s a trashcan for the…um, poop, and there’s another can for the diapers. I give her a regular diaper for bedtime just because it’s easier to change her in the middle of the night and in the morning, but daytime I use the cloth diapers.”

“Makes sense to me.” Harry disposes of everything, and grabs a few wipes to clean Lilly up. She took a powerful stinky.

“I blame it on the pureed peas.” Jane laughs.

“It doesn’t even phase me anymore, honestly.” Harry says as he gets a little baby powder on her. He grabs a spare cloth diaper, and gets it on her. He snaps her onesie back together and lifts her up. “There we go, good as new, darling girl.” Lilly blows some bubbles at Harry, and blows some back, making her giggle. Jane beams at the two of them.

“It’s about time for her afternoon nap. Would you like to put her down?”

“I’d love to.”

Harry carries Lilly upstairs with Jane. She flips on Lilly’s white noise machine, and makes sure her favorite blankies are in the crib. Harry sits down in the large chair in the corner of the room and starts to rock her gently, giving her soothing rubs. Jane watches as Lilly’s eyelids start to droop. She fights it at first, but Harry continues to soothe her until she’s out like a light. He carefully stands up and sets her down into her crib. The two back out of the room quietly, and make their way down the stairs.

“Let’s go back to my office.” Jane says, and Harry follows her there. Once they’re both seated, she starts speaking again. “Well, the job is yours if you want it.”

“Really?” Harry felt every worry from his life leave his body.

“Yes.” She chuckles. “You’ve really impressed me, and I think Lilly’s quite taken with you already. I’d love to have you as her nanny.” She takes out a few forms. “May I have your references? The background check will take about a week. How soon could you start after that?”

“Right away, honestly.” He hands her a sheet with his references.

“Here are the tax forms you’ll need to fill out, a form for direct deposit, and some information on your benefits. You can get everything back to me by the end of next week.”

“I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity, I’m so excited. I can’t wait to get started, Miss Watson.” He stands to shake her hand, and she stands as she takes it.

“Please, you can call me Jane.”

[sooibian]

Trespassing is Prohibited!

Pairing: Baekhyun x Fem!Reader ft. Chanyeol

Genre: Fluff! Fluff! Fluff! Crack. Friends to Lovers AU, University AU (ish) 

Description: Byun Baekhyun has had enough. He finally wants to ‘man up’ and make you his. But things continue to spiral out of control all thanks to his friend, philosopher, and guide (a.k.a. The Worst Wingman Ever) Park Chanyeol.

Warnings: A very rambly Baekhyun and a longwinding confession

Word Count: + 3k

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

“You want me to talk about the weather?” Baekhyun squeaked into the phone after having breathed in helium from the blown up balloon in his hand.

“The weather, politics...the economy even.” Heaving slightly, Chanyeol spoke after a moment, his usual gruff and masculine voice reduced to a wafer thin high pitched squeal, sending Baekhyun into a fit of helium suffused giggles.

Taking another drag off of the balloon, Baekhyun warbled and piped, “Say...say that again. Say economy again!”

“Eco...econo-” Chanyeol’s extreme outburst of laughter at the sound of his own voice, rendered him unable to pronounce the final syllable.

All along, you stood at the door, comfortably leaning against its frame and eavesdropping on their conversation or the blatant lack thereof. Chanyeol suddenly wanted Baekhyun to talk about the weather, politics, and the economy? You thought you’d grown immune to your best friends’ antics but they continued to up the ante and left you baffled, amused, or both every single time. 

You cleared your throat to catch Baekhyun’s attention but it fell on deaf ears. He rolled around in bed, breathing in helium, laughing hysterically, chanting the words ‘economy, weather, and politics’.

“BAEKHYUN!” You screamed at last. He scrambled to face you, wearing an expression of a deer caught in the headlights. You finally had the entirety of Baekhyun’s eight second attention span all to yourself.

“YAH! YAH! YAH! What are you doing here?” Baekhyun retaliated and then whispered something into his phone, stuffed it inside his pocket, straightened his shirt and sat primly on the edge of the bed like a child who’d been caught eating forbidden candy. He threw you an accusatory glance but there was an unmistakable hint of embarrassment and panic in his eyes.

Peering over your glasses, you snapped at him, “I’ve come to pick up my phone charger because you obviously lacked the courtesy to return it!”

“Oh!” His lips protruded into a pout and he tilted his head to the side as if in deep thought, “I’ll bring it over in the evening.”

“Why are you acting so….dazed and confused?” Slouching, you took careful, deliberate steps towards the bed and sat down next to him. Leaning into his frame, you sniffed his neck and whispered, “Are you...Baekhyun don’t tell me you’re on something!”

Levelling his face with yours, he searched your eyes before flicking your forehead in response to your wild allegation. “Shut up! The audacity! You’re the one barging into my house in the middle of the day. Trespassing is prohibited!”

Confused, you pulled away from him and asked, “What are you saying?”

The corners of his lips drooped. Brows knit together, he replied, “You should’ve called first!”

His extremely out of character standoffishness made you uncomfortable. You were clearly not interrupting anything other than a helium infused gala which, truth be told, you were greatly annoyed at not being invited to. Neither were you inconveniencing him in any way. You were to simply fetch the electronic device and head home. And this wasn’t anything out of character for you either. You’d always felt free to walk into his goshiwon as you did your own. Yet, here he was, dark hair unkempt, dressed in his usual baggy clothes, accusing you - his best friend, his emergency contact, the one he moved cities with for University, the only one who had the passcode to his goshiwon - of breaking and entering. You knew Baekhyun since the day you’d learnt to walk and in all these years he’d made you feel a lot of emotions - happiness, sadness, mostly anger but not once had he made you feel unwelcome. 

Your heart sank to your stomach at this abrupt coldness.

“Baekhyun, you took my charger, remember? My phone died.” Fighting the lump in your throat, you explained politely and proceeded to rummage his desk drawers for the said item.

“Wait!” He came trotting after you barefooted as you dashed out of his room. He grabbed your wrist to hold you firmly in place. 

While you were no stranger to physical contact with Baekhyun, these past three months since your break up had started to get increasingly excruciating for you. A slight brush of his hand with yours sent tingles through your skin, made your cheeks flame, your legs turned to jelly, and alarms blared inside your head. At first you thought it was just your hormones messing with you - he was an attractive man and you’d only recently been deprived of love and attention but you’d slowly begun to realize it was something far beyond that. Something you had an inherent knowledge of but were not quite ready to confront yet. 

“I’m leaving.” You replied matter-of-factly. Yanking your hand free from his grasp, you didn’t bother to look at him. “Helium makes you stupid!” You yelled instead, and banged the main door shut behind you.

.

.

.

After a week of radio silence (though he was still clearly avoiding you at campus) Byun Baekhyun had finally started texting you again and you realized that he was now a changed man.

He'd gotten...boring.

Every morning he'd send you a no effort good morning text along with, lo and behold, weather updates! Bland messages ending with the same emoji. Mostly alternating between 'Good morning! Don't forget to wear a mask today, the fine dust level is scary! ☺️' and 'Good morning! Don't forget to carry an umbrella today, it might rain! ☺️'

You'd almost always reply with a disinterested 👍 but he remained undeterred. 

Now it was as if Baekhyun and Chanyeol came as a package. The duo seemed to be joined at the hip and they walked in the opposite direction every time they caught you approaching them. Movements frantic, whispering in each other’s ears as if they were plotting to start a rebellion to overthrow the Government. But the Morning Daily from Baekhyun remained unchanged. Until one day, you snapped and replied with an emoji depicting another special digit used to indicate an entirely different sentiment from the sweet old 👍.

.

.

.

Later that evening you were dressed up for a double date set up by your classmate Jiwoo, your only “friend” other than Baekhyun and Chanyeol. She was to introduce you to her boyfriend’s friend who she thought was your type. Not looking for anything more than just a stress free and light evening, you decided to dress to the nines, let your hair down, and forget all about Baekhyun’s pigheadedness. 

Dabbing on just a hint of blush along your cheekbones, you gave yourself a quick once over in the mirror. It was then that a familiar beeping reached your ears and you rushed out of your bedroom to greet the unexpected visitor with a snarky comment.

“Trespassing is prohibited!” Crossing your arms over your chest, you glared at Baekhyun through your glasses. Dressed in a black hoodie, head covered in the Nike cap you’d gifted him for his birthday, twirling a pen between his fingers he just stood there, smiling sheepishly with a bag from your favourite desserts cafe in his other hand. It seemed like he’d come straight to yours after his lectures.

His gaze hesitantly roved over you and he questioned softly, “Going somewhere?”

Slinging a shoulder bag on, you averted your eyes and remarked, “It’s none of your business.” 

“Yah! Don’t be like that”, he said with a soft chuckle yet his voice bore a hint of dejection and apology.

“That’s rich coming from you. Allow me to remind you how strange you and Chanyeol have been acting since the last two weeks!”

“I’m - I’m ready to..talk about it.” He quipped, awkwardly proceeding to put the box of desserts in the refrigerator. He then very comfortably took a seat at the kitchen table.

Hands on hips, you sauntered to the main door and shook your head, gesturing for him to leave. “Not today, Baek. I’m running late.”

He pulled back the chair next to his, and drummed his fingers on the table nervously. “Come sit. I won’t take too long. I promise.”

Letting out a deep sigh, you dragged your feet to the table and slumped into the chair.

“You look nice.” Lips stretched into a thin line, he stole a glance at you and said to his cuticles instead. 

“BAEKHYUN!”

“Okay..okay sorry… so the day you came home?”

“Please stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Drawing out sentences in a question.”

Inhaling deeply, a slightly irate Baekhyun replied, “I’m trying okay.”

“Listen, first of all I am really annoyed at not being invited to that helium balloon call? So I’d advise you to think twice before saying anything stupid. Tell me...why did you two think it was a good idea -”

Embarrassed, he interrupted to get that part of the discussion out of the way. “Chanyeol and I just wanted to know what we sounded like… over the phone, you know? We sounded..err...squeakier.”

“Okay...I hate to say this but ...makes sense, I guess? Why wasn’t I invited?”

“Because - ”

You leaned in closer, questioning eyes locked with his.

“Because -”

“Baek, I’m running late!”

“It’s because we were talking about you!”

“No? You were talking about politics -”

“Politics, weather and -”

‘The economy’ The two of you said in unison, face averted from each other to keep from laughing at the recent memory of Chanyeol’s oddly peculiar way of saying it.

“Yes..so Chanyeol and I were discussing how you probably don’t see me as a man? Like … a man man?”

Face scrunched into an expression of pure confusion, your mouth fell open to answer Baekhyun but no words came out. His lower lip had begun to wobble slightly and he rubbed his palms on his thighs before continuing. “He was of the opinion -”

“You’re literally the only one to ever pay heed to Loey’s opinions!”

“Yah! Don’t shit talk my Loey!”

“Yah! He’s my Loey too! Moving on”, pinching the bridge of your nose, you urged him to continue with a curt nod.

Baekhyun straightened his spine, threw his shoulders back and explained, “We had a thought.” 

“Both of you? The same one?”

“Ye-yes?”

“This is not going to end well. I can feel it in my bones.”

“Can you stop acting like you’re better than us? Just for a moment?”

“Fine! Go ahead.”

“We thought that it was about time you started to see me that way.”

“That way?”

“The way you used to look at your greasy vermin of an ex?”

“With sheer contempt and disgust?”

“That was after. I mean like before.” Hands balled into fists, Baekhyun looked at your expectantly.

“I don’t get it.”

He gave you an exaggerated smile as if to centre himself before throwing more vague questions your way. “What is the one thing - the only thing - I can actually cook?”

“Haejangguk?”

“Exactly! Do you get it now?”

“I have a thousand of reasons ...or ideas as to how you and Chanyeol would manage to relate Haejangguk with politics, weather, and the economy but I’d rather not dive into that cesspool. Instead I’ll allow you to explain.”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows shot up in concern as he explained softly, “Haejangguk helps with your hangovers. It took me fourteen tries to master! And it was Loey who ate every single spoilt batch. Without any complaints!”

“I wouldn’t say you’re any good at it even now but...sure whatever.” Rolling your eyes, you murmured.

Your phone chimed with a text from Jiwoo but before you could answer, Baekhyun snatched it from your hands and shoved it in the pocket of his hoodie.

“Pay attention. This is more important than that loser you’re going to meet.”

“Baekhyun!”

“No, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t watch you go from one idiot to another.”

“I’ve literally only dated two guys! Why are you suddenly getting territorial?”

“I am not getting territorial! What I’m saying is…  I spent these two weeks rehearsing the right thing to say to you but - screw that! And listen. You cannot do this anymore!”

“Do what?”

“You cannot waltz into my thoughts anytime you like! For instance I’m eating a tangerine, I think of how it would magically taste sweeter if I could only share it with you. Your face suddenly flashes before my eyes and I lose my mind while I’m doing the most mundane things like riding the subway or having a meal or talking to someone. I go grocery shopping and the first thing I pick up is strawberry milk and it’s not even my favourite! But I bought a whole damn carton because you love strawberry milk! I have cucumbers! Cucumbers! In my fridge because what if you crave oi muchim with your ramen some day and woe betide me if I DO NOT HAVE CUCUMBERS! I waste 4,050 Won every week on cucumbers but it DOES NOT MATTER because it would be nothing short of a tragedy if you want something and I can’t give it to you. Like, have you looked at yourself when you get upset? When your lips stretch into a thin line and your eyes ever so slightly lose their sparkle. It makes me want to pluck the bloody stars from the sky and lay them at your feet if it means that I can make you smile again. Do you know how warm you are? I mean, like, physically warm. Especially when you’ve woken up from a nap. So, so warm. I feel like wrapping you in my arms, putting your head on my chest and just...staying like that. Freezing the moment in time. Freezing the moment in time! Look at what you’ve done to me! I'm saying these cheesy things and I'm doing boring things like studying politics and understanding the state of affairs and keeping up with fine dust levels just so that you see me differently! So that I can somehow make you believe that you can rely on me. Think of me as more than just a friend who used to pull your pigtails back in the day.” 

The beat of your heart boomed in your ears. You hugged your coat tighter around yourself as if to conceal its conspicuous sound. Your throat felt dry and your spine liquified in the face of his overwhelming confession. You had a million things to say to him. And there was one specific thing you were dying to do the moment your eyes landed on his soft, strawberry pink lips.

Eyebrow cocked, you said in a low whisper. “Why not buy a jar of oi muchim instead? It’ll surely last longer than a week.” 

He buried his face in his hands and let out a shallow, pained wail and continued. “I'm done.” He looked up at you. Eyes droopy, lips pouty. “Put me out of my misery. Look, if you don't like me back the way I like you just ...forget that I said any of this. We can go back to being what we were at 7 o’clock. It's 7:30 now, we can rewind, 30 minutes. But don't...don't...what the hell how can you just sit there and act like you're watching a freaking movie. React! Say something! Actually...don't! Oh my god this is a trainwreck! I had rehearsed the right thing to say...but I got distracted by the indentations on the corners of your lips..I think I'm having a full blown breakdown… I just want to - ugh!"

"You just want to what, Baekhyunnie?"

You took his fists in your hands, eased them open and laced your fingers with his.

He clamped his eyes shut, slouched to make himself small, and muttered. "Don't call me that!"

Giggling softly, you repeated, "Baekhyunnie?"

Baekhyun flicked his eyes open. Unabashedly studying the curve of your lips, he whispered ‘Stop.’ His hand gently rested on your cheek, eyes seeking approval. You nodded in response, feeling your face flame. His honeyed gaze darkened as he leaned in closer, a sweet scent of bubblegum wafting in the space between you. His hand found the back of your neck, lips ever so slightly parted. Finding his movements excruciatingly slow you gravitated towards him while your breath hitched in your throat. He took your hand and placed it on his chest as his silken lips melted into yours. He held you like you were fragile, like he was experiencing the sensation of your skin on his for the very first time, committing every slight brush, every single touch to memory. You felt the wild hammering of his heart against your fingers despite the thickness of his cozy hoodie, your own reacting in likeliness. 

Baekhyun held you by your shoulders and gently pulled away, breaking the most delectable first kiss you’d ever had. Tilting his head to the side he looked at you briefly before making vague hand gestures and shaking his head. He opened his mouth to say something but found himself at a loss for words. Face flushed, he opened his mouth again after a while only to clamp it shut. 

Byun Baekhyun was processing.

After having had your fun with his perplexity, you smiled at him and raised an eyebrow questioningly, prodding him to speak.

“So...does this mean we’re?” He asked, voice faintly tremulous.

Pursing your lips to stifle a giggle you teased, “Yeah?”

“Am I your...I mean...are you my….girl-girlfriend?” Averting his eyes from yours, he inquired, while shyly rubbing the back of his neck.

Half shrugging, you answered, “Depends.”

Baekhyun’s face fell. “Depends?!” He exclaimed, almost in falsetto.

"Depends on whether you want to continue sending me daily weather updates.” You deadpanned.

“This feels like a trick question.”

“Yes or no?”

“N-no?”

“Then, yes. Byun Baekhyun, congratulations, you’ve earned the unequivocal and irrevocable right to call me your girlfriend.”

“Does it mean that you didn’t like the new and improved version of me?” He asked hesitantly, face clouded over with caution.

“That wasn’t the Baekhyunnie I fell for.”

“Yah!” Surprised at your sudden blurry confession, his eyes grew into large brown circles but the moment his gaze met with yours, his expression softened again. He smiled sheepishly and spoke tenderly, “Okay...noted. You too can call me your”, he cleared his throat, took your hand in his, placed a soft kiss on it and used his most dulcet voice to say, “boyfriend.”

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

A/N: hello, hello @you-did-well-moon​ hope you enjoyed this very cheesy confession from Baekhyun! 

@exolssecretsanta​

[nightswithkookmin]

I am a hard Taekook shipper but recently Jikook have been melting my heart by being so cute and cudly and loving. I understand and i am sorry for so mhch hate from Taekookers but trust me Taekookers are a bit shaken right now. I cannot disclose my name here but i would like to say if Jikook is real or they decide to come out which i higly doubt then i am 100% in support and also ur page helped me open my eyes and see a diff sude of shipping which is needed alot more. I am Loving Love ryt now.

C'est la vie!

So sorry for the late response love. You've always been on my mind.

I get not every Taekooker is wild and rabid just as not every Joker is sane and fake woke. Lol.

I mean I'm still holding on to my grudge against your people for storming my business pages and leaving shit reviews on my books- and laughing about it? What was that? Damn. Had to change my author name and everything and I've since been publishing under an alias- let me tell you, it's no fun at all.

In retrospect, I shouldn't have called y'all's ship dead- but honestly it dead, it dried up like a drop of sweat on a dessert. What can I say? People just don't want the truth, lol- had these angry thirteen year olds and fake woke Jokers coming for my ass and my business ass on the flamingo app. Chilee. Your people don't want to be civil. Sigh.

Some people just have no sense of personal responsibility and when they get called out for it they slap you with the whole, 'no one asked you to put yourself and your business out there' - this creepy behavior and mental adroitness is not far from rapists blaming girls for wearing short shorts and mini skirts or thieves blaming people for not putting up a fence and shit to protect their property. It's fucked up.

And don't get me started on what they do to Jimin or JK... or even Tae- not to make you feel bad or anything. It's just my people suck, your people suck, we all suck square- don't apologize for it unless you plan on doing something to change it?

As for Taekook, yea I don't think there is anything wrong with shipping them. They have a beautiful bond, they are both visuals and both funny as hell. If you won't ship them I will. Lol.

Just know the reason you are shipping them? If you are shipping them because you genuinely believe they are a couple too then you need to stop shipping them and start supporting them?

And once you start supporting them then I think you'd sooner realize there isn't anything there to support in the first place. Lol.

I support Jikook because I believe with my full chest they are real and are closeted- emphasis on closeted. And for the record, they are the only queer couples in BTS.

Tae lost his queer card when he accidentally outed Jimin on that radio show. 'I think he likes men' yea, straight up het behavior. Lack of homo sensitivity.

Did you see JK's reaction when JM was asked to spill tea on their pervy behaviors behind cams? My butt quivered. Chilee, I thought he was gone out JK too. Damn.

I think the word real and closeted have come loose and cheap on these streets these days. I don't think most of these shippers when they throw it around fully understand the term or realise what it means and what it takes. If they did, they wouldn't randomly be labeling every ship as 'real' within the fandom.

If you believe Taekook is real and that they are equally hiding their sexuality as well as their relationship within the group, then you should understand how severe and traumatizing this fact is and would be for them as gay men?

The thing is, they are not just hiding parts of themselves and their identity for the sake of their careers or military or whatever if they are real, they are lying to millions, millions of people at a time about who they really are by keeping their identity a secret. Secrets are lies honey, however way we want to see it.

If they are real then they are concealing their true identity away from not just their families and friends- if they haven't come out to them, but acquaintances from work, businesses who wouldn't work with them otherwise, brands, sponsors, Heads of states, their fans....

It's one thing for a heterosexual to keep their heterosexual relationship a secret, it's another for a queer person to keep their queerness and or queer relationship a secret.

A lie as heavy as this is bound to take a toll on them, no matter how good they are at hiding it. A secret gets heavy before it gets easy. Not to sell you on anything but do you see any such secret taking a toll on Taekook? Because I see it taking a toll on Jikook.

Do you believe Taekook are closeted? Because I believe Jikook are.

Being closeted means they have to carry the guilt of knowing that each time they pander to heteronormative roles in variety shows or interviews, or imply by omissions that they are straight, or make generalizing statements about their sexuality to avoid addressing their sexuality directly or give it away, that they are lying to people and spewing half truths- seven years in a roll.

Being closeted is not a joke. It's heavy. I think you need to grasp this before you claim it for anyone.

People like to throw the 'closeted' phrase around willy nilly but fail to comprehend its weight and complexity and consequences especially for people that they believe are actually queer.

It's not easy lying to people about who you are. Unless you are a pathological liar and a psychopath, it's like drowning each day you wake up. You die a little each time. Your sexuality is a huge part of your identity and when you deny it for so long by lying and suppressing it, it's like shutting out a peice of yourself and silencing your own voice. The more you push it aside the louder it screams and the harder it fights to come out.

It's a state of constant internal struggle. You wake up everyday contemplating whether to risk the perfect life you've spent years building just so you can turn off the guilt that comes with keeping a secret of this nature.

And each time you get better at omitting or generalizing and evading questions that hint at your truth, the more you hate yourself and the more guilt you feel. This guilt can become a driving force that pushes you to make risky moves and take impulsive actions such as 'borderline outing your relationship'- does that sound like Taekook to you?

If you are not driven by the love you feel for your partner, you are driven by the guilt and neither is a great place to be if you are queer.

You lie everyday, you get caught up in the lies and soon you start believing in the web of lies you've woven around yourself such that you don't even recognize who you are or why you are, anymore. As such, you are constantly searching for yourself, to reconcile the bits you've hidden away and perhaps forgotten, and you keep exploring your identity because you are unsettled- honey, that sounds more like Jikook than Taekook to me but c'est la vie.

Being closeted is not about moments that get cut by editors, or less interactions, or being seperated or seated further apart from eachother. These are just ship street parlance. Being closeted is an attitudinal, internal attribute rather than external manipulations or influences- it's a science. Lol

Coming out may be risky for any of these boys if they are real, but I promise you hiding is much harder for them.

And so When I look at Taekook, and I see how beautiful they are yet I don't in God's honest truth see them 'dealing' with any or all of these struggles Jikook deal with or have dealt with at one point, in my opinion- forget the homophobia, the wanting to come out, the low key microaggressions they deal with even within the group- 'the Jk never stops crying,' 'the real men don't do this and that talk' talk, the toxic masculinity and internalized homophobia traits JK and Jimin used to exhibit in their early days talking about 'real men don't twerk,' 'real men don't wear rings on their pinky'- all the times Jimin have had to defend his masculinity or even femininity, or stand up for Kook's within the group. 'Men, men, men. What is men?'

Jikook are the only two within the group that in my opinion have struggled most with their identity, with embracing aspects of themselves; you hear them complain about 'living a lie' 'tired of hiding, lying' and all these are themes consistent with closet behavior that they've both explored in one way or the other and even as of 2020 they are still dealing with or 'exploring' their identities perhaps as a means to reconcile their true selves? I'm really struggling with this post because I don't wanna get salesy on your ass. Lol.

Don't get me wrong, Tae struggles and deals with issues too- mostly with loneliness, lowkey depression in my opinion, lowkey bullying- sometimes, lol and he often expresses a desire to find someone and be happy and yet 'his supporters' don't recognize that...

You can wait till Jikook come out officially as queer, if they ever chose to, to support them- Or you can choose to support them and love them now because that's what they need in order to officially come out as and when they choose to? Ok I'm being salesy. Lmho. I'll stop. Don't mind me. But think about it.

Ship whatever ship you want but support Jikook. It's all I'm asking. And by support, I mean don't exhibit any anti homosexual attitude towards them- deadass. You and I gone fight, square up toe to toe, if you do. Lol.

People don't need to be afraid of Jikook. They just need to treat them as human beings and not reduce them to a mere ship. They are a ship too yes, but they are more than that if you ask me.

You sound nice. I love you. I'm glad you enjoy my posts. Merry Christmas and cheers to our ships.

Keep supporting Jikook. Jikook is real.

Signed,

GOLDY

[random-mha-thoughts]

Hero Light (Kirishima x Reader)

Pairing: Kirishima x fem!Reader

Anon asked: “Can you do a scenario where Kirishima is married to a blind fem!reader, but recently Kirishima is not spending time with her so she starts to grow insecure thinking he not liking her anymore because of her condition and then she hears rumors of Red Riot hitting off with his sidekick. Kirishima comes home and then finds the reader crying (like a lot). He starts reassure her, apologizes for not spending enough time with her, and in the end is all fluff!!”

Genre: Angst to fluff/comfort

Word count: 1,092

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ 

a/n: Thanks for waiting for this request anon, I hope you like it!  Writing Kiri angst makes me sad because our baby doesn’t deserve sadness, but this one ends happily.  I hope you guys enjoy! It’s a bit shorter since I’m still sore and tired from my long trip, but I spent the day writing this.

Kirishima's wife has plenty of insecurity to worry about: being a normal civilian instead of being an amazing hero like her husband, not really being able to tell how pretty she looks, the fear of being abandoned, just to name a few.

Her fears came crawling up to her slowly.  It started when she noticed Kirishima coming home late more often.  Naturally being a neurotic person, no amount of reassuring kisses and hugs from her husband would quell her uneasiness, but she decided to trust that she would always up in his arms at the end of the day.

But a day came when she had to go to bed without him.  Her first thought was that he'd gotten severely injured in battle.  She can't bear Kirishima being in a hospital bed letting his life expire, with or without her being there.  Late into the night, she remained still in their bed, thinking of all the worst possible scenarios.  If he was hurt, why haven't they called me yet?!  Where was he?!

She's startled by the sudden opening of the front door, jolting up to sit.  "Kiri?" she called immediately.

"Baby?  You're still awake?"  His familiar voice echoed into their house worriedly.  His footsteps crescendo-ed as he approached their room.

His wife reached out her hand for his comforting touch.  "Where have you been?  Did something happen?'

He didn't just give her a hand, he enveloped her entire body in a hug, rubbing the back of her head lovingly.  "I'm sorry I worried you.  Something was holding me up at work."

"At least call me next time to warn me.  I thought you were dying!"  Her weakly balled up fist shakily hit him in his chest.

While that night resolved itself, a other scattered days in the next few weeks left her going to bed alone.  Although Kirishima would always call that he was going to be late, is wouldn't ease her disappointment.  Even weekends would be stolen away from them as he would be called in to work.

Through all this, she wished she could say she was strong, that she patiently waited and accepted the situation of being married to her top-hero husband Red Riot.  The reality is that she wasn't.  She felt selfish that she wanted her husband to stay home with her when his job, his duty, is to the people of the city.

Slowly, she started sinking into more negative thoughts.  What if he was purposely throwing himself into his work because he didn't want to be around her anymore?  Is he tired of her?  Did he suddenly realize that her being blind was a hindrance on their relationship?  That last one sank her heart.  He'd promised and assured her with his entire heart that her blindness didn't bother him in the least; he was completely willing to bolster her routines if it helped them live better together, and he had.  Perhaps she was becoming a burden on him.

The next thing she knew, one of the midday radio broadcasts brought a different story up.

"Hero Red Riot seems to be getting along quite well with his new sidekick, especially since they've been working on the latest villain case together."

Kirishima's wife didn't want to believe them, after all, it's just tabloid gossip and Kirishima is a loyal husband, and she would completely disregard them in any other circumstance.  But the last few weeks have weakened her inner voice of strength.  It was exhausting to constantly assure herself that everything is okay when there are constant conflicting thoughts in her head.  Amid the consuming darkness of her headspace, hearing even the possibility of her husband cheating was too much for her to take.

She curled up into a ball in the living room and sobbed.  It was mostly guilt eating at her: guilt that she was so possessive of her husband, guilt that she would even for a second believe that he was cheating on her, guilt that she was a hindrance on him.  Guilt that she was born broken like this.

"(Y/n)?"  She barely heard when Kirishima opened the front door and started running towards her.  "Honey!  What's wrong?"

Her throat was too choked up with sobs to respond to him.  When he lovingly gathered her trembling figure into his arms, she only sobbed harder.  

"Baby, why are you crying?  I don't wanna see you like this."  The flustered boy was heartbroken at the sight of his wife broken down.  "Tell me what's bothering you."  He rubs her wet cheeks with his thumbs in an attempt to comfort her.

She calms her breathing finally and clings to his back.  "K-Kiri.  I missed you," she hiccups.

"That's not the only thing is it?" he softens his gaze on her.  "You can tell me anything, talk to me."

His wife feels ashamed to say what's in her heart.  "Kiri, why did you marry someone like me?  I'm only a burden to you, and you could've had anyone else-"

"But I don't want anyone else."  He immediately places his strong hands on her shoulders and holds her face.  "I only want you.  You're my beautiful, gifted wife and there's no one else like you.  And if you for a second think that I was lying when I said I'm willing to take care of you for the rest of your life, then I haven't been a good man to you."

His wife lets out another sob at his words.  "No, don't say-"

He kisses her forehead.  "I'm sorry I haven't been here for you lately.  I promise that as soon as I finish with this case I'll take a whole week off to be with you.  I can't let my precious wife stay lonely, I wouldn't be a manly husband if I did."

"No, baby, you're the best, it's my fault-"

"Nope, I don't wanna hear it," Kirishima silences her with a loving kiss on the nose.  "We're gonna plan the best week just dedicated to you and that's final.  You wanted to go to the museum, right?  I'll do anything you want, no questions."  He bumps his forehead against her and in the sweetest voice says, "Because I love you and everything about you."

Although his wife felt ashamed for having even the slightest negative thought, being in his arms like this, smelling his familiar scent, warming herself in his strong embrace, and letting his words comfort her is still the only thing that can lift any doubts she has.  He will always be her shining light.

[stillchaoticlogic]

Falling: Chapter 3

Pairing: Raihan x Reader

Falling in love is easy…

It’s falling out of love that’s the hard part.

As you try to run from old feelings you meet someone who is determined to bring the spark back into your eyes. Raihan isn’t sure what happened in the past and he doesn’t care. He’s got one shot to make you his and he’s going to take it.

First Chapter: Here

Second Chapter: Here

Cry for Me

Gazing down at the phone on the table you watched as it lit up again for the fifth time in the last thirty minutes. You heave a sigh when Hau’s name pops up on the screen. Leaning forward you pull the phone towards you and answer it. 

“Hello?”

“(NAME!) YOU ANSWERED!” his voice loud in his excitement.

“Yeah sorry for leaving so abruptly… and the radio silence… I got a job opportunity and had to act fast. Things got crazy quickly. How are you? How’s being champion?”

“I-I wish you were here… When will you be back?” His voice is rife with self-consciousness. He’s scared.

“I...don't know…” your answer is hesitant. 

“But! I need you here! We all do! We miss you!”

“And I miss you guys too, but I need to do this for me. I need this opportunity.”

“Is this because I took your job?” he sounds guilty.

“Hau… Alola is no place for me anymore and I need to move on. This has nothing to do with you.”

“But...you left… Are you mad at Kukui? He said something seemed to be bothering you…”

“I’m not mad at Kukui, I just needed to leave. I have opportunities here that I didn’t in Alola. I need a break and to heal from some things.”

“Heal? What happened?”

“I’m tired Hau… I’m just overwhelmed with things and I have some things to sort through…”

“So you won’t talk to me about it, what about grandpa?”

Thinking of Hala, the island Kahuna and Hau’s grandfather makes you feel even guiltier. He had become like a grandfather to you and while he had encouraged you to leave, you hadn’t told him of your plans either. 

“Hau, I’m going to be fine. If I need to talk to Hala about anything I’ll call him okay?”

“So you aren’t coming back?”

“I have been offered a job in Galar and I’m taking it.”

“But isn’t that guy their champion?! What are you even going to do!?”

“I’m the new...chairwoman… of their league.”

He’s silent for a moment. 

“You’re really not coming back…”

“...No…I’m not…”

“I’ve got to go… I have a match… I’ll…”

“Hau! Wait!”

“Bye (Name)...”

You close your eyes in pain at the sound of the call ending. He’ll be fine, you know this, but you wish you had handled this differently. In your desperation to get away from Kukui you had left everyone else without an explanation too. 

“I can’t believe I fell in love with a married man…” you grumble to yourself as you throw your phone onto the table. Rotom buzzes in annoyance and you quietly apologize to him. 

Your phone rings again this time it’s Leon calling. 

You answer it and put on a brave face, “Hey Leon! How are you?”

“Hey! I’m good! I heard you had a good day with Raihan!”

“I did!” you say with a laugh remembering the banter between you and the Dragon-type gym leader. 

“Well, we’re going to start touring the gyms tomorrow! I figured we would start with the first three and then go down the line. How does that sound?”

“Sounds good! How long will the tour take? I need to start looking for a place to live and I should probably start prepping for the next tournament right? It’s a month away?”

“Don’t worry! This shouldn’t take more than a week… You can also scout places to live while we travel around!” 

“Sounds good! What time can I expect you tomorrow?”

“Does eight work for you?”

“Yeah that works!”

“Perfect! I’ll meet you tomorrow morning then!”

You say your goodbyes and the two of you hang up. The light padding of Aurora your Alolan Ninetails alerts you to her presence. Ember your non-Aloan Ninetails following close behind. The duo finds themselves on either side of you on the couch. You lean back as the fire and ice foxes endeavor to curl up next to you. 

“You know the two of you aren’t Vulpix anymore right?”

They both look mildly affronted before they settle themselves half on you and half on the couch. 

“Yes… well, I’m so excited about this bonding time…”

They promptly ignore you and continue to lay happily in your lap. You close your eyes and recall the day you just had. Raihan seems to be a fun guy, you can see yourself being friends with him. You’ll need those here, friends. You recall the way he held you while you watched the sun go down and you try to recall a recent moment when you laughed as much as you did today. A ping interrupts your musings and Rotom hovers in front of you. 

Dragon Boi: So did you have fun on our first date? Is tomorrow too soon for a second?

You: It was a rather good first date… too bad there wasn’t a kiss at the end… Where is that Leon?

Dragon Boi: Still?! You know if it’s a kiss you want I can be there in about twenty minutes right? 

You: Twenty minutes? I thought you were in Hammerlocke?

Dragon Boi: I’m staying with Leon tonight since we’re starting the tour so EARLY tomorrow!

You: Oh? Tell him to come. 

You: I’ll be waiting eagerly!

Dragon Boi: I thought we had something but you’re using me to get to Leon, aren't you?

You: Yep. 

Dragon Boi: Damn that’s cold… I thought we had a better time than that…

Dragon Boi: I thought we were going to get married, but if you really want Leon…

You: So dramatic…. 

Dragon Boi: Dramatic?!

Dragon Boi: Naw I am… I’m not gonna lie to you about that…

You: hahahahahaaa

You: I did have fun today and if you’re there tomorrow I’m sure I’ll enjoy the tour. 

Dragon Boi: Wait.

Dragon Boi: did you just ADMIT to having fun…

Dragon Boi: With ME

You: Well not if you’re going to make a big deal out of it…

Dragon Boi: Still.

Dragon Boi: You had fun today.

Dragon Boi: With me.

You: Yes…. congratulations… 

Dragon Boi: Thank you thank you

Dragon Boi: Our wedding will be spectacular

You: All I ask is that we fly away on your Flygon after the ceremony. I want a truly memorable exit!

Dragon Boi:  Ugh! I woman after my own heart. You can have anything you want my queen!

You: Queen?

Dragon Boi: Don’t like it?

You: Oh no… quite the opposite… I could get used to that…

Dragon Boi: Good. You deserve to be someone’s queen. I don’t mind volunteering for the role of your king either… just sayin…

You: Very funny Raihan…

Dragon Boi: I’m being serious! I’m just sayin if the position is open… I will happily fill it. 

You: I’ll consider it…

You: Good night Raihan…

Dragon King: Good night my queen. 

You bite your lip to keep the smile at bay, you can’t get involved with a man you just met as a means of getting over Kukui. Even if that man is sweet, funny, charming, handsome, strong and kind. Nope. Absolutely not. 

Your screen lights up indicating Kukui is calling you and without even thinking about it you mumble the word that you’ve felt all along. 

“Reject.”

Falling into bed that night your pokemon curl themselves around you the best they can. They’ve been extra concerned about you lately and they rarely leave your side. You can feel their protective auras surround you and you love it. You love them. You don’t like that they are worried, but feeling their concern makes you feel loved. 

The next morning you are greeted by both Leon and Raihan in the lobby. Raihan is quick to greet you with breakfast and coffee, both of which you take happily. 

“Ahh my hero has brought me coffee again!”

“Of course milady!”

You chuckle as you take the breakfast sandwich from him and the coffee. Leon chuckles at the interaction before he interjects. 

“You kids ready to go?”

“Hush Leon, I’m being pampered right now! Can’t you see that? You get me up at this ungodly hour and then try to deny me being showered with adoration. I think not.”

“You heard the lady, Leon… She wants me to adore her… this might take a while.”

Leon rolls his eyes at yours and Raihan’s antics, “The taxi is waiting.”

“Oh? Are we taking the goth bird taxi?” You ask as you take a bite of your sandwich.

“They are called Corviknight, and yes we are,” Leon answers.

“I want one… Where can I get one?”

“They are pretty common...They evolve from Rookidee.”

“Hmm… Rookidee…”

“We should be able to find you one today,” Raihan pipes in.

“That would be delightful! I really want to train some Galarian Pokemon…”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Dreepy! An Applin! I heard they evolve depending on the type of apple they eat. A Ponyta…” you continue to list the pokemon as you head out to the taxi.

“Dreepys are kind of hard to find… I’ll show you where they like to hide,” Leon says as he opens the door for you. 

“I have a pair of Volcarona…. Nothing is more annoying than searching for their annoying ass… I’m sure I’ll be fine!”

“You have 2?!” exclaims Leon in shock. 

“Yep… I have a pair. I was going to breed them, but they hate each other.”

“They hate each other?!” says Raihan in surprise. 

“Oh yeah… if I put them anywhere near one another they just fight.”

“That’s insane! Why don’t you ever battle with them?”

“Well I had a League sanctioned team that I had to use in Alola, and they weren’t on it. It was mostly to keep people from trying to go out and catch them. They live at the foot of volcanoes so not exactly the safest place for young trainers.”

“I can’t believe you have one let alone two!”

“I got bored…”

“Bored?”

“Yes… bored…”

“So you caught two pseudo legendary Pokemon?!”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“I really just want to know when our wedding is…” Raihan interjects as he gazes at you as if the sun rises and sets with you. 

“Wedding?!”

“Quiet Leon, can’t you see the man’s trying to propose?”

“Propose?!”

You arrive at Turrfield and head into the gym. You are greeted by a stout looking trainer with a dazzling smile. That’s why he’s the first gym leader, he instantly radiates comfort. 

“Milo! This is (Name), our new chairwoman. (Name)! This is Milo, he’s our first gym leader!”

“Very nice to meet you, Milo! I’m excited about touring your gym! Especially since I really want to know more about the gym challenges.”

“Likewise! Let me take you on the tour and explain my logic for the challenge.”

You stop in front of a large field and notice a bunch of sheep-like pokemon. 

“How cute!” you exclaim as you approach them. 

“My family is Wooloo farmers, we raise them for their wool. My challenge is to have the trainers herd about twenty of these little guys to the other end of the field.”

“What is your reasoning for having them herd them?”

“It shows patience. These young trainers have a long road ahead and a lot of work to do. Not to mention training new Pokemon is not easy. They need to prove they have the patience and discipline to advance.”

“That’s an excellent point!”

“So you approve?”

“It doesn’t matter if I approve, it’s your gym, you clearly know what you’re doing.”

“Why don’t you give it a shot?” Raihan asks as he comes up behind you. 

“Huh?” you murmur as you turn back to look at him.

“That’s a great idea!” exclaims Leon. 

“I don’t…”

“I think you should give it a shot!”

“Oh dear…” you mutter. 

You eventually relent and take your place. 

“This is ridiculous…” you mutter as you begin to herd the Wooloo towards the gate. You huff as one goes rogue and you have to chase after it. A couple of others break away and you have to roll them back. After a little back and forth you finally get all twenty at the other end. You trip and hear the men laughing at you as you pull yourself back up. The Yamper end up scaring the Wooloo and you pout as about five of them break away and scatter. With a huff, you rush back down the field until you are back at the beginning. 

“You know the Wooloo is down there?” Questions Raihan as he holds back a laugh. 

“Very funny…” you pout as you grab his and Leon’s hands and drag them behind you. 

“You’re going to help me though! Chop chop Milo!”

The three guys follow you out onto the field and you all head over to the Wooloo who are eyeing you all warily. The four of you end up laughing as you chase the wooly Pokemon up and down the field. Each one of you getting in the others way and changing directions at a moment's notice. You notice Raihan’s Rotom filming the event as you all rush around happily chasing after the Wooloo. When you had all of the Wooloo at the end of the field you all collapse at the end and laugh until you can’t breathe. 

“Was that what you were expecting?”

“It was something all right!” 

You leave the gym chuckling to yourself before you all head over to the Hulbury gym and meet Nessa. The Raging Wave is everything you would expect her to be. 

“So, you’re whipping these boys into shape?” She asks as the two of you head out of her gym. The afternoon sun drying your damp clothes after completing her gym challenge.

“Oh, you know it…”

She laughs as she bumps your arm, “I love it! So the real question is when are you going to battle Leon? You could be our next champion…”

You chuckle, “I have no intention of being a champion right now… Perhaps in the future, I’ll take him on, but right now I’m just enjoying life.”

“Like you could beat ‘The Unbeatable Champion,’” Leon says as he poses. 

“Are you posing? For no reason…?” you ask in confusion. 

“He does that… So weird…” you mumble before waving to Nessa. 

“Let’s get lunch soon! I’ll need some girl time before this is all over!” 

Raihan drapes his arm around your shoulder as you head off down the road. 

“You got it!” Nessa yells back. 

“Aww, you made a friend…” Raihan says as he pulls you close to him. 

“It would seem so…”

“That’s good, I’m glad it was Nessa?”

“Why is that?”

“Well, Nessa and I go way back…”

“And?”

“No reason…”

“He’s already asked Nessa to put a good word in for him,” Leon says with a grin as he walks along behind you.

“He did?!”

“BRO?!”

“Oh yeah…”

“BRO?!”

You throw your head back and laugh, “Dragon Boy is pulling out all the stops…”

Raihan looks away from you and goes to pull his arm back. 

You chuckle as you wrap your arms around his waist and look up at him through your lashes, “You know Rai…”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t need a good word…”

“I don’t?”

“Of course not… We’re getting married remember?” You ask as you pull away from him and rush down the street. 

“Hey wait!”

“No way!! I heard there were Vulpix at the Motostoke gym! I want to pet the baby floofs!” you yell over your shoulder as you rush off down the street.

“So how bad do you have it?” questions Leon with a laugh. 

“Pretty bad… I mean I’m pretty sure she’s perfect…”

“Yeah, I figured… you’ve already proposed and you’ve only known her two days!”

Raihan laughs as he scratches the back of his neck, he can see your silhouette as you rush down the pathway back towards Motostoke.

“Yeah… that’s a... uh…. Running joke…”

“Well, she seems to be running with it too…”

“Nah… She’s not serious… She’s been hurt and she’s dealing with herself right now.”

“Then be there for her. Be the friend she needs now and who knows man, when she’s ready maybe you will get the chance to propose to her?”

Raihan laughs, “So we’re just jumping straight into marriage.”

“Were you or were you not straight-up pampering her this morning? Just adore her and treat her like she’s the most sublime woman you’ve ever met and if things fall into place then you know.”

“She is the most sublime woman I’ve ever met…”

“Are you saying that as her fan or as a man? Remember, just like you’re more than ‘Raihan the Dragon-Type Gym Leader,’ she’s more than ‘(Name) The Alolan Champion.’”

“I know that!” 

“Just… remember to treat her like a person and not just your idol. She’ll love that too.”

“Since when did your single ass get good at giving dating advice?”

Leon glared over at Raihan, “I date!”

“Since when?”

“Shut up…”

By the time the duo arrived at the gym Kabu was chuckling as you clutched about three Vulpix to your chest. 

“I want to take them all home with me!” you exclaim as you bury your face against the soft fur. 

“I don’t think you need 5 more Vulpix when you have two Ninetails already,” Leon says in exasperation. 

You gasp dramatically, “Leon! How dare you? You can NEVER have too many Vulpix!”

Raihan laughs, “What if we head to the wild area tomorrow and find a Dreepy for you?”

You narrow your eyes but nod, “That’s acceptable.”

“Why do I feel like we just got played?” questions Leon. 

“Because you did… I was doing some research, I would also like a Toxel!”

 “Shouldn’t we be focusing on the tour?” Leon asks. 

“Oh, come on Leon! The Wild Area is right outside the city, plus we can explore while we head back to Hammerlocke,” Raihan interjects. 

“It would be nice to be able to start familiarizing myself with some of the native pokemon as well,” you chime in.

“Still…”

“Leon… I’ve been running a league for the past 3 years… Don’t worry I’ll have everything taken care of. Plus I wanted to check out the area around Hammerlocke, since it’s central, I think it would be a good city to move to.”

“Really?!” questions Raihan. 

“Yeah! That whole gothic castle look is to die for too. I’ve had my eye on it since I got here!”

Raihan smiles as he watches you go back to playing with the fire foxes, ‘Things are looking up…’ he thinks happily.

Note: Hey everyone! I hope you all had a great Holiday! I know I did! I’m having way too much fun playing FFX for the Switch. If you haven’t ever played it...highly recommend! I like this chapter but the next one will be even better! Raihan is totally catching a Dreepy isn’t he? Love. Please as always let me know your thoughts! I love hearing from you all!

[marvels-writings]

Escape (2)

| Part 1 | 

Request: Hi! I always love your writing. Everything is closed in New Zealand for at least another 3 weeks so your writing helps keeps me sane. Could you please do a Maria Hill x reader. Maybe the reader is an assassin that Maria has been trying to bring in for months but reader always manages to escape. The reader catches feelings for Maria during their many encounters and one day helps her save one of the avengers. Maria asks reader “if i asked you to stay, would you?”. Angst but Happy ending please ☺

A/N: I’m trying to procrastinate less but at the same time I downloaded software that makes a cat follow the mouse on my computer so now I have an army of cats following my mouse whenever it moves, it’s kinda funny honestly, anyway back to the story

Hideouts were always tough to find but easy to decorate. You’d recently gotten a new hideout in a cheap motel on the edge of New York, they were in debt so they let you buy the room, you could have it as long as you needed it for, you paid them whatever they needed as long as they didn’t tell anyone you were here. A lot of police had come to their doorstep to ask about you, they lied for you. 

You felt a little bad for them as you lay down on the bed, watching some random TV show while deciding where to go next. You had enough money to last a few years, enough resources and contacts to live the rest of your life peacefully and undisturbed, maybe you’d go to Tahiti, alone it would be a bit boring though.

The phone ringing quickly broke you out of your thoughts, you picked up hesitantly to find the daughter of the family who owned the motel telling you there were agents who said they were from a place called SHIELD to search the place, you told her to calm down and bid your goodbyes, quickly packing up everything you could and changing into your black and fav/color battle suit, putting a hoodie and jeans on top of it after tucking knives and guns into it. 

The agents were coming closer, you could hear it, if you got caught the entire family would be in danger, so you quickly snuck out the window after making sure there was no trace that you were ever there, you quickly walked on the roof of the entrance, realizing there were guards everywhere. You discreetly slid down the side of the roof, dusting your jeans off after. 

Maria Hill had made an appearance with about 5 more agents wearing uniforms, you raised an eyebrow and walked away as subtly as you could. One of the agents made her way to you, she seemed new so you let it pass. She had a tanned complexion to complement her light brown hair, a fairly athletic b

“Excuse me, miss?” She asked, you turned around and gave her a small smile, she seemed not to recognize you.

“How can I help you?” You asked politely, she showed you a picture of what you’d looked like when you had different hair and you’d changed your makeup, there was a little resemblance of what you used to look like. 

“Have you seen this woman?” She asked, you nodded no and she quickly thanked you before walking off, Maria hill turned around and thought she recognized you, but maintained her distance, deciding you weren’t here.

 After realizing you didn’t have a ride, you quickly called the agent back over, claiming you needed to speak to her in private. After taking her into one of the spare rooms, you apologized and knocked her out with your taser, quickly stripping her of her uniform and covering her up with your hoodie and jeans, leaving an apology note before putting on a spare mask you carried around, it let you take up her appearance. You walked out confidently, one of your knives still with you as you threw your bag in the back of the car.

“Did you find anything Ella?” Maria came up to you and asked, your eyes widened a bit but you answered smoothly, realizing the agent’s name was Ella Newman.

“Nothing, the family doesn’t seem to know anything about Y/l/n.” You answered, getting into the passenger seat of the car. Maria frowned a little but got into the driver seat, starting up the SHIELD car.

“Hungry?” She asked you shrugged, you could eat, and it wasn’t every day you got to eat lunch with SHIELD’s deputy director.

“I can eat.” You shrugged, Maria smiled a little while driving towards the city center, you remembered you still had a secret hideout with clothes you could wear.

“I’ll drop you off at your place and pick you up at 6:45?” Maria offered, you shrugged and gave her the address of the hideout, noticing her frown when she remembered that was where Y/l/n was sighted a few times, the place had been checked out, there was nothing there.

The rest of the drive was pleasant, both of you chatted about SHIELD but you didn’t reveal too much about yourself, or who you were pretending to be. Maria noticed but decided not to push, most SHIELD agents had a dark past, you were probably one of them. 

“I’ll see you then.” You winked at Maria and then walked out and into the apartment building, it was a decent place, you’d made sure it had decent clothes and food.

After she drove off, you went into your room and took off the mask, putting on a fancy outfit and putting on makeup so you looked more like the person you were pretending to be. You fixed your hair up the best you could, made sure you looked like the agent you were faking. You had a maximum of 4 hours before they discovered you were faking, you were going to take full advantage of it. 

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

After settling on a fav/color top with roses embroidered on it, black jeggings, and black sneakers you decided to slip a few knives and a small pistol in your outfit when you heard a knock at your door. You checked your appearance in the mirror, you looked like a SHIELD agent. You opened the door with a smile on your face,  Maria wore an azure blue v-neck blouse with navy blue trousers and some simple silver jewelry, a small silver necklace with a sapphire pendant, she held a bouquet of roses in her hand. 

“Thank you.” You thanked her with a dazzling smile, taking the bouquet from her and putting it on the table next to you, making a mental note to put them in the water later. 

“Of course, I know this great Italian place about 20 minutes from here if you want.” Maria offered as you quickly shut the door and followed her out of the apartment building. 

“That sounds amazing, I’m starving.” You smiled, walking to her dark blue Audi car, climbing into the passenger seat, it still smelt like a new car. 

The drive there was decent, it was mostly talking about music once Maria had made the mistake of switching on the radio to a song you absolutely hated. On the walk to the restaurant, you bantered Billie Eilish’s success. 

“I still think she just got lucky,” Maria remarked, opening the door for you as you rolled your eyes, the atmosphere of the restaurant was friendly but still fancy, you were a bit underdressed but neither of you minded. 

“You can’t get that lucky,” You argued back as the waiter led you to a reserved table that already had a bottle of wine waiting. “I mean she did win 10 grammies.”

“She won 5 awards Ella,” Maria stated, you rolled your eyes. 

“Semantics.” You shot back, Maria laughed a little, enjoying your company than most SHIELD agents.

The rest of the dinner was better than either of you had expected. Once Maria dropped her tough SHIELD demeanor, she was funnier and softer, which surprised you a little. You were more carefree and relaxed than most people Maria had met, which was a nice change of pace. You made Maria silence her phone after it pinged twice, to give you a little extra time with her. Dinner was over a little too soon, Maria offered to drive you back when you proposed a walk through the streets.

Maria found herself unable to say no, after about 5 minutes through the walk, you shivered and moved closer to her. Maria smirked and brushed her hand against yours before confidently taking it and walking, flustering you through the facade you had. 

“Let’s go,” Maria said once you started shivering, even more, you nodded and let her drive you back, talking about how underrated the restaurant was.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

“Thank you for dinner today.” You thanked Maria once she had dropped you at the apartment, she had even gotten out and walked you to your door through the apartment building.

“Anytime, I’m hoping we could do this again?” Maria asked, a little hesitant to ask you, she noticed your reluctance to answer. 

“I hope so too.” You covered it up quickly with a smile, using Maria’s blush to steal a glance at her phone, the notification read that you were a fake, you needed another distraction, you still wanted more time. 

You quickly surged forwards and met your lips to hers, Maria almost flinched back in surprise, but she couldn’t help but melt at the sudden action. Her hands came to rest on your waist, gently tugging you closer by the belt loops. The kiss distracted you from your resolve to steal her phone, you pulled away when you were out of breath, still keeping your bodies close.

“Wow,” You muttered, realizing this was the one thing you said which wasn’t a lie.

“Yeah, wow,” Maria gasped, reluctantly pulling away from you before frowning. “I don’t have your number.”

“Oh, right.” You said Maria gave you her phone without glancing at the notifications, you quickly cleared it and typed your name in with the phone number of the phone you had in this hideout. 

“I’ll see you later.” Maria smiled, you smiled back and leaned forwards to quickly peck her lips before heading into your apartment, mentally tallying everything you need to pack up before she realized, you had maybe 20 minutes, 30 if she drove off. 

You started packing up your things into a suitcase, smirking before putting the roses into a large vase with water in it after chopping off the stems in one smooth motion with your knife. You left a small note for Maria and threw all of your things in your bag, facepalming when you realized you left your other bag in the SHIELD car, you knew they would send the same car here, you needed the bag. 

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Maria left your apartment building with a soft smile on her face, thinking of the dinner as she started up her car, giving a glance to your contact before the notifications filling up her phone. She quickly swiped to view one. 

‘Y/n Y/l/n was last seen faking the identity of Agent Newman.’ There was a picture of you next to the agent who you were impersonating. 

“Shit,” Maria muttered before opening her door, gun in hand as she headed into your apartment building to find you.

| Part 3 |

Tag List: @capcarolsdanver​, @versdan​, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught​, @lovebotlarson​, @dhengkt​, @5aftermidnight​, @hstoria​, @natasha-danvers​, @veryfunnyal​, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​ , @ophelias-heart​  , @never-didbefore​ , @justarandomhumanhere​, @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all , @thatssocamryn​ , @lesbian-x-blackwidow​ , @marvelbbyx​ , @wlw-imaginesss​ , let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

A/N: Thoughts?

[pixiegrl]

For angst prompts: “Do you have a ride home?” for mashton but make it angsty

More angst? Mashton angst? Have a little bit on pre-relationship Mashton angst where Ashton comes to save Michael from his own mistake. Sometimes Michael just needs his friend to come help him out.

On ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28882590

“Fuck,” Michael mumbles, standing on the doorstep of Harry’s apartment building. Despite his mother’s, Calum’s, and Ashton’s insistence, Michael has never managed to remember to bring an umbrella with him anywhere. It normally wouldn’t be such a problem, but it had looked gloomy when Michael had left his place. Michael hadn’t thought anything of it, considering he was walking to the restaurant to meet Harry and then going to Harry’s from there. Harry had managed to remember an umbrella, which had been fine when they were walking back together, when Michael thought he would be spending the night with Harry. Now it doesn’t matter because Michael and Harry have broken up and Michael is forced to walk back to his apartment, blocks away, in the fucking rain.

“Just my fucking luck,” Micheal continues to rant, hood of his jacket doing very little to help with the drizzle that’s slowly getting stronger and stronger. Michael’s not sure what to do. He wants to talk to someone, talk about how one little disagreement had snowballed into his breakup, but Michael doesn’t know who to call. He could call Calum, but then he’d have to explain to Calum what happened and that would lead to Luke finding out and Michael doesn’t want to deal with any of their pity. He wants to go home and eat ice cream and wallow in his breakup before he has to tell anyone about it.

Michael lets the water drip down onto him, accurately reflecting his mood, walking another block before he gives in, takes his phone out, and dial Ashton. At least talking to Ashton means he won’t be alone on his walk home.

Ashton picks up on the first ring. There’s banging in the background, clearly a sign that Ashton’s making dinner. He can hear music playing the background and what could be the faint sound of the TV.

“Michael, what’s up? I thought you had a date tonight.”

“Things changed. What are you cooking?” Michael asks, trying to divert attention from himself back to Ashton. Ashton hums on the other end of the line.

“Soup. Trying my hand at chicken noodle soup.”

“You say that like it's hard to make.”

“How would you know? I’ve never seen you cook anything Mikey.”

“That’s not true! I made that pasta the one time!”

“Boiling pasta and heating up sauce aren’t cooking,” Ashton chides lightly. Michael tries not to feel a twinge in his heart remembering that Harry was supposed to teach Michael how to cook. It had been one of their date night ideas, that they could cook or bake together. It had been going well until well, this.

“Hey I resent that. You know Harry tried to teach me how to make pizza.”

“I remember you burning the pizza. But you do make a mean brownie,” Ashton says. Michael can hear his smile through the phone, his easy charm and presence. 

“Maybe I can come over and show you my secret brownie making techniques,” Michael asks. He stops on the corner at a red light, waiting for it to change so he can walk across. The rain has gotten a little harder and Michael is cold. He’s cold and wet and he wants to get home and take a shower and curl up under the covers and cry. Why did he have to live so far away from Harry? Why didn’t he take up Harry’s offer to drive him home? Michael is an idiot.

“Speaking of Harry, what happened to your date night? Not that I don’t appreciate hearing from you, but I am worried. Did something happen?”

Michael sighs. It’s better to bite the bullet now and get it over with.

“Harry and I broke up.”

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line and then Ashton clears his throat, “What?”

“We broke up. Like tonight. I’m walking home now.”

“You’re walking home? But it’s raining. Do you have a ride home?” Ashton says. Michael can hear the inflection in Ashton’s voice, worry and concern bleeding through.

“No. Harry offered, but I didn’t want to spend more time with him in the car. Listening to him apologize,” Michael mumbles again. He crosses the street when the light changes. He can hear the sound of Ashton banging around again through the phone.

“Where are you?”

“I’m not sure? There’s a Starbucks here.”

“Drop me a pin of your location. I’ll come get you and take you back to your place.”

“Ahsont, you don’t have to pick me up.”

“I do actually because you’re my friend and it’s raining and I want to come help you.”

“Ashton. No.”

“Michael. Yes.”

“I hate you,” Michael says, stopping under the awning of the Starbucks, glad to be a little drier. He doesn’t want to admit it, but it’s nice knowing that Ashton cares about him and wants to come help him. Ashton brushes it off, insisting that he’ll come get Michael and bring some of the soup with him since it’s almost done anyway and they can heat it up and have some while watching a movie to help distract Michael. Michael gives a begrudging grumble but agrees to it. He decides it’s probably better to wait inside the Starbucks, so he goes inside to wait at a table, ordering a tea to make it less awkward.

The other reason that Michael doesn’t really want Ashton to come get him is that Michael has a crush on Ashton. It’s just a teeny tiny little crush, completely harmless really. It’s just that, whenever Ashton laughs or smiles at Michael, Michael feels something funny in his chest. They’ve been friends for years and Michael thought he outgrew the crush, but clearly he has not. It was one of the sticking points with Harry, just another nail in the coffin of their relationship. Harry always felt like Michael cared about Ashton more, that Harry couldn’t measure up to Michael’s crush on Ashton, on their friendship. It’s not entirely wrong. Michael thinks he would put Ashton first, but Michael would also put Luke or Calum first too. Michael firmly believes in putting his friends first before any relationship because they’re his friends. Harry didn’t see it quite the same way, thinking that Michael’s crush on Ashton was overpowering his other decisions. Ashton would argue that having your friend call while you’re on a date asking if you can take them to the hospital to get stitches because they cut their hand isn’t exactly what Harry’s talking about, but Michael thinks it was mostly an excuse. The romance had fizzled out and they were both just waiting for the other to make the final move. For all purposes, the breakup argument hadn’t even been as bad as Michael’s mind is making it out to be. He’s just angry and cold and wet and bitter.

Ashton calls him 30 minutes later to tell him he’s parked outside. Michael ducks outside, running through what’s now a downpour to Ashton’s car.

“Fuck, you’re soaking wet. You need to learn to bring an umbrella,” Ashton chides as he puts the car into drive, taking them back to Michael’s place.

“Thank you for the advice, I’ll try to remember it the next time my boyfriend breaks up with me and I have to walk home in the rain,” Michael snips back, turning up the heater in the car. Ashton doesn’t say anything, sitting in the silence as the radio plays.

“So, what happened?” Ashton finally asks when they’ve been sitting in the car long enough for his curiosity to win over. Michael groans.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I think you should. Might feel better?”

“It’s nothing. We just….grew apart I guess?”

“Michael, you’ve been dating for a year. As of last week, you guys were happy.”

“Well, shit changes,” Michael snaps, crossing his arms and glaring out the window.

“Don’t get huffy with me. I’m just trying to help you.”

“It was you.”

“Sorry?”

“You. We got into a fight about when I took you to the hospital a few weeks ago because of the stitches. It was partly you, partly how I’m always putting you and Calum and Luke before Harry sometimes.”

“What is it about me specifically?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said partly me. Why partly me?”

Michael debates what revealing this information to Ashton will do. He figures nothing, since it’s a well known fact both Calum and Luke had a crush on Ashton when they first met him before falling head over heels for each other. No one had much cared about that information. Michael figures if he gets his crush out in the open, maybe it’ll help him move on.

“I have a crush on you. Or had? I’m not really sure, I don’t think my body knows the difference. Harry picked up on it.”

“Am I the reason you broke up?”

“God no. I think he was just making a poor excuse to end our relationship.”

Ashton hums, staring straight ahead. He’s quiet for a few moments before he finally speaks up.

“Do you still like me?”

“Like, as a crush?” Michael asks, cautious.

“Yeah. As a crush, do you still like me?” Ashton asks, hesitant.

Michael thinks about it. He hasn’t really considered it that much recently. When he met Harry and fell head over heels, he pushed his crush on Ashton aside for a while. He already does so much with Ashton, cooking together and watching movies and just hanging out that he doesn’t think dating would much change their relationship. It would just mean he could kiss Ashton and hold his hand and maybe when he spends the night, he can share Ashton’s bed.

“I mean, I always like you. Sometimes, it’s hard for me to figure out what’s a crush and what’s just me liking you as a friend because we’re so close. Why? Do you like me?” Michael responds, slowly and carefully.

“Sometimes when you brush close to me, my heart flutters and I feel warm inside. If that’s what a crush is, then yes, I have a crush on you,” Ashton says.

Michael’s silent again, pondering what that means. Maybe the hardest part of being such close friends is that it's hard to figure out what's friendship and what’s a crush. The lines are already blurred for them on a regular basis, how would they really know the difference without actually being together. Michael stares out the window, watching as they get closer to his street before he speaks up.

“Guess we just wouldn’t know without really dating. Like really giving it a go and seeing what it means for the two of us. It’s hard to tell the difference in our emotions.”

“You just broke up with Harry.”

“Well, maybe that doesn’t matter. Maybe I just want to go on a date with you and hold your hand and see how it feels. What’s so wrong about that?”

“I don’t want you to compare me to Harry or to what Harry’s said about me. I want your feelings to be real and natural.”

“I never said they weren’t. I’m just not sure,” Michael grumbles. They finish the drive in silence, radio still playing softly in the background as they pull up to Michael’s apartment building. Ashton parks the car, turning off the engine. Michael undoes his seatbelt, making to leave the car.

“Hey,” Ashton says, hand resting on Michael’s as he goes to open the door.

“Yeah?”

“I would like that.”

“Like what?”

“Dating you. I would like to date you.”

“Oh. Like now?”

“Not like now now. I mean, once you’ve had time to get over Harry and your breakup. I would like to take you out for a date sometime. When you’re over Harry and I don’t feel like you’re trying to compare the two of us.”

Michael smiles slowly. He feels something warm bubble up in his chest at the thought of going on a date with Ashton, getting to be with him, hold his hand, kiss him. 

“I would like that,” Michael says, turning over his hand to squeeze Ashton’s. Ashton beams at that, open and bright. Michael leans over, pressing a soft kiss to Ashton’s cheek, blushing when Ashton laughs breathlessly.

“Good. I would like it too. But first, you should change and we should have soup,” Ashton says, making to open the car door. Michael nods, making to follow suit. Tonight, he has Ashton and soup and the promise of movies and cuddling. And the promise of something more for the future. Hope.

[stayextrafrosty]

I am Your Future, I am Your Past: Chapter 7

A Roswell New Mexico soulmate AU

Note: This chapter is very Alex and Forlex heavy but I promise it’ll be worth it in the coming chapters

Read on AO3 // Chapter 1

Alex stared at the phone after the line went dead. He felt the sudden stab of pain in his chest. Something was clearly wrong, but he couldn’t just ditch out on Forrest. If there was something life threatening Michael would have said so.

“Everything alright,” Forrest asked? Alex looked at the black screen for another moment.

“Yea. Nothing I can’t figure out later.” He smiled. Forrest hesitated but then grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the doors of the building.

Alex had pointed out that with their combined knowledge from being in the military, an escape room might not be as hard as intended. Forrest insisted that was why they were going at it alone and not with another group. He had rolled his eyes and agreed. Never having done something like this before, he guessed it would be fun just by Forrest’s excitement alone.

“Alright. The rules are simple. You have one hour to make it out of the room. There is no reason to break anything as everything is accessible through clues. Make sure to check everything closely. Feel free to pick up props and move them around. Things such as wiring are marked off with tape, please don’t tamper with it. You will be entering the Area 51 bunker. You wake up after being knocked out in a cell with no windows. Good luck!” The guide led them down the hall and opened a door. She smiled as they stepped inside. She handed a walkie-talkie to Alex. “If you’re really stuck you can ask for a hint. But only three times.”

They stepped into the room, looking around at the walls that had been covered by what looked like the inside of a freight car. Various slogans were spray painted in big red and green letters. ‘We’re not alone!’ ‘They lied!’

Alex laughed at all of it. A mannequin dressed in a marine’s uniform stood motionless in the corner, wrists and legs bound to the wall by chains. He shuddered. If only they knew how real that situation could be. The door clicked shut behind them and the lock thunked closed ominously.

“I never quite understood why these things are horror themed,” Forrest said, looking around.

“Well, why else would someone be locked in a room?” He nodded in agreement.

“I suppose you’re right. Ok. I’ll check the bed, you look though that guys pockets,” Forrest instructed. He didn’t know what he was supposed to be looking for, but he listened anyway.

Walking up to the marine, he noticed it was way bigger than he thought. Alex wasn’t even short but this thing towered over him. He looked around on the outside first, feeling for dog tags or pins. Not that there would be any. His first instinct would always be to identify a body in uniform.

“I found a magnet hidden in the pillowcase. What’d you get?” Forrest stepped up next to him as he located the chain for the tags. Alex pulled them out only instead of the tags, it was a key. The chain had been modified with a clasp to make getting it off easier.

“Any idea where this goes to,” he asked, looking at Forrest.

“You know, for an air force captain you really aren’t observant, are you?” Forrest laughed. There was no malice in his words. “There’s a locked box right here,” he said, grabbing Alex’s hand gently.

He felt stupid. Even if Forrest was just poking fun at him, he should have taken in his surroundings better. Just like he should have at his house. Just like he should have at the barn a week ago. He jumped when Forrest shook him.

“Alex? Are you ok? I said your name a couple times.” He looked anywhere but at Forrest.

“Sorry. Just spaced. Where’s the box?” He pushed past him and crouched down. The lock seemed old, but it could have just been decorated like that. None of this was real.

“Is this triggering something? You can talk to me about the PTSD you know.” He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He sighed.

“It’s not PTSD. My triggers are a bit more specific.” He looked over his shoulder and up at him. He gave a small smile. He should be trying to enjoy himself. “Thank you though. Now let’s figure this thing out.”

Alex popped the lock open, pulling out an old satellite phone and folded piece of paper. The phone had no batteries in it. Alex turned it over a couple times to look for writing but there was none. He handed it to Forrest before unfolding the piece of paper.

“555 444 4 44 8 7777 666 88 8,” he read out loud. It was so simple yet he couldn’t place what it was referencing. Maybe he was just overthinking it. He could break into heavily secured data bases in minutes but something designed for the general public was tripping him up? He stood to show the note to Forrest. He hardly glanced at it before realization spread over his face.

“You know, you get a little line in between your eyebrows when you’re thinking too hard,” he teased. He reached up, rubbing his thumb over the area on his forehead, forcing Alex to relax. “Think like a normal person instead of an elite hacker,” he suggested, handing the piece of paper back to him.

Alex took a breath and looked again. The sequence of numbers was familiar but not like it was recent. Like it was accessing years old knowledge he had tucked away, not knowing if it would ever be useful again.

“Here. Look,” Forrest said, handing him the phone again.

The numbers had corresponding letters. Years old memories of his first cell phone came rushing back. Hitting numbers one too many times and needing to go through the whole cycle again to get the letter you wanted. And yet everyone still managed to type out whole paragraphs in under a minute.

“I can’t believe I forgot that,” he said, starting to laugh. Taking a closer look, he corresponded the numbers to their proper letter. “L-I-G-H-T-S-O-U-T. Hit the switch.” Forrest smiled and nodded, stepping toward the door.

The room was dark for a moment, but then lines and lettering started to glow. A few UV lights lit the room. Handprints led the way to a spot in the corner behind the bed. They abruptly disappeared three feet from the other wall, hinting at a door. The two of them headed over and felt around for a latch or grip to open it. Nothing.

“Hey, look.” Forrest was pointing at a grouping of paint made to look like someone focused more attention on that spot. He held the magnet up and moved it around that spot. A latch clicked and the door popped open enough for them to grab the edge. Alex rolled his eyes at the trick, but he had to admit, he was having a good time. They stepped into the next room. It looked like a repurposed dentist office.

There was a large box off to the side and a chair with surgical supplies in the middle. There was also a pile of folders and files. The two of them shared a look and grinned.

“Alright. Seems easy enough,” Alex said, feeling more confident and comfortable than he had in a long time.

-

“Ok well we both checked that file cabinet and there was no key in there. I’m telling you, it’s rigged.” Alex laughed at Forrest’s frustration. They had gotten stuck in what they think was the last room.

“I told you to make sure you pulled the drawers all the way out,” he said, smiling.

Forrest shook his head and pulled his keys out of his pocket. Alex had teased him earlier when he showed up at his house in a normal SUV. The van was for ‘special operations.’

“Well, regardless of the outcome, I think we made a pretty good team.” Alex felt the heat rise to his face at no fault of the sun. He nodded in agreement and stepped up to the passenger side door.

“As an apology for being bossy once I figured out what was going on, I’ll buy you a drink,” Alex said, pulling the door open. Forrest grinned.

“Looking to spend more time with me? I’ll take that as a good sign. Planet 7?” Alex tried not to stumble over himself at the mention of the local gay bar. It wasn’t official but it was known to attract those from the community.

“Actually, I was thinking The Wild Pony if that’s ok with you?” Forrest shrugged. Didn’t matter to him.

“You’re buying so I can’t complain.” Alex rolled his eyes and hopped in the car.

It’s not that he was opposed to Planet 7, he just wasn’t sure if he could properly hide from people if he knew them. The Wild Pony was a local’s bar. He knew the crowd and could avoid conversations if he needed to.

And maybe Michael will be there to see you with Forrest…

He shook the thought out of his head. Whatever Michael had wanted to say to him earlier, it had nothing to do with Forrest. That little pang of something earlier was just him feeling guilty about shrugging him off. But he had nothing to feel guilty about. He was free to spend his time with whoever he wanted.

The ride was mostly silence. Just enjoying each other’s company was enough. The radio played softly, occasionally fading out and back in. Alex glanced down at Forrest’s free hand on the arm rest between them. No one could see them in here. It would be ok to hold his hand.

He reached across slowly, first resting his hand next to his. They had only held hands briefly in the escape room. They were soft and steady. Gentle even.

He reached his pinky out, brushing against the side of Forrest’s hand. He saw his head turn slightly but he never looked away from the road completely. Alex moved his hand closer. Then he pulled away. But before he could worry that he had done something wrong, he was placing his hand back down, palm up. Encouraging Alex to take it, a gentle smile settled on his face. Alex couldn’t help but smile too as he wove their fingers together.

He ran his thumb over the back of his hand. The smooth skin was nice, but something felt like it was missing. He found himself wishing there were calluses. That his hand was a bit warmer.

Alex hardly noticed when they pulled into The Wild Pony parking lot. He jumped back into reality when Forrest released his hand to get out of the car. He cleared his throat and climbed out himself. He shoved his hands in his pockets as they walked. A brief moment of confusion crossed Forrest’s face but it was replaced with a smile.

They pushed through the doors and Alex immediately looked for Maria. He watched her as she took inventory of the bar before the Saturday night rush. The bar was still mostly empty.

“Go grab a booth, I’m just going to say hi to my friend,” he said. He nodded and headed in the opposite direction. Alex made his way through the tables to the bar. He knocked a couple times to grab her attention. She turned with a fake smile on her face, ready for whatever customer was going to be there. Once she recognized it was him, it changed into something softer. But something still seemed off.

“Well look who it is. The one who doesn’t return my calls when I think I have a lead,” she joked. Alex smiled at her.

“I’m sorry. It’s been a crazy few days.” She nodded understandingly. To be honest, he just didn’t know what to say to her after Michael’s confession in the hospital. “Can you get me two of whatever the special on tap is?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Two?” Alex looked over his shoulder to find Forrest. He watched him, a sweet smile on his face. Didn’t even turn away when he was caught, making Alex blush. “He’s cute. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she joked, winking. He rolled his eyes and she pulled out two glasses filling them expertly.

“Did you and Michael find anything? He called me earlier today, but I was busy.” Her smile fell, looking more sad. His eyebrows drew together. What had they found that warranted a look like that?

“Well… we didn’t find anything. I left earlier than planned.” Alex reached for her hands as she wrung them together. What was she nervous for?

“What happened, Maria?” She took a breath and tried to paste on a happier face., like whatever she was about to say didn’t bother her.

“Michael and I… We won’t be working together for a bit.” Alex still didn’t understand. Did they have some sort of argument? Michael would probably come apologize to her before the day was out. She must have seen the confusion on her face. “Alex… we broke up.”

Anything he was going to say left his thoughts in a second. What could have possibly happened that would push them to that? They seemed so happy together. And Maria wasn’t one to give up something she loved so easily.

“What happened,” he finally asked? She shook her head and smiled.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell you when you’re not in the middle of a date. Now go have fun.” She didn’t give him time to respond before moving to the other end of the bar to ask a day drinker if he wanted another round.

He grabbed the two drinks and headed back to where Forrest was sitting. He set the beer in front of him.

“Sorry about that.” He looked up from his phone, moving the glass closer to him.

“Don’t worry about it. Things looked pretty intense. Everything alright?” Alex wanted to tell him. But he also didn’t want him to get a bad impression of Michael when he didn’t have the full story.

“She and her boyfriend broke up. She wouldn’t really give me details but I’m sure she’ll tell me soon.” Forrest looked over to the bar. He frowned as he watched her.

“Wasn’t she dating Michael? Ran into her a couple times at the hospital.” Damnit. He remembered.

“Yea. But she made it sound like it was a mutual thing. I don’t think they’re on bad terms. I just wish I knew what happened,” he said, taking a sip from the glass.

“Well I’m sure she’ll tell you eventually.” He reached over to rest a hand on his arm comfortingly. He knew he shouldn’t speculate about what happened between them. But something in his chest told him it might have to do with the curse. And by extension, have to do with him.

-

Michael had paced most of the day since hanging up on Alex. He tried calling Maria, but she never picked up. He needed to do something. Waiting just wasn’t cutting it. He tried triggering more visions by reading that journal front to back.

He didn’t know who those two were. They started as friends and it grew to more. Thomas was forced to present himself as his sister and twin who was often ill. Samuel was a child of the servants. Thomas’ father was a grade-a bastard who needed to control everything. He threatened Samuel’s life more than once. Then it was the Manes family who was supposed to provide the sacrifice for the year. So, the two of them ran away.

“Sounds a lot like the original story,” is what Isabel had said. He was tempted to agree but the original was a princess and a slave. And even if there was the possibility of that being true, he wouldn’t be able to find out. The last entry was the night they ran.

He needed to figure out what Jesse Manes did with those original scrolls. Max refused to let him anywhere near the soldiers that had ambushed them. He said they hadn’t said a word about who they were working for. Michael knew in his gut it was that asshole.

A knock on the wall pulled him from his thoughts. Isabel looked at him sympathetically.

“You’re going to run a hole through the floor if you keep pacing. Instead of overthinking why not do something productive? Give Sanders some extra help at the junkyard. It’ll keep your mind busy.” She stepped toward him to rest a hand on his arm.

“I have to figure this out, Iz. This vision wasn’t like the shared dreams. It felt like a message. This could be what we need to break the curse. I don’t know how yet, but it’s got to be a clue.” He pulled away from her, picking up the journal again, thumbing through it mindlessly. She sighed and took the book from his hands gently.

“Look, I get it. Breaking this curse is the most important thing but you can’t do that if you burn yourself out. Let’s go.” She grabbed him, pulling him out of the study. He knew she was probably right, so he let her pull him along. “We’re going to go get a drink and then you’re going to clean up that bunker for whatever it was you were planning to do down there.”

Michael raised an eyebrow at her. He never told her his and Alex’s plan. Max must have spilled. Damn him. The less people knew what was going on the easier it would be.

“Fine. But let’s avoid The Wild Pony if you don’t mind.” Isabel snorted.

“Please. Even I’m not that cruel.”

-

He didn’t pay attention to the name of the bar they walked into. It was smaller than the Wild Pony, but Isabel had said it was still considered a local’s bar. At least there wouldn’t be any sort of alien hunting enthusiasts.

The colors all over the place made him feel out of place in this cowboy hat and stained jeans. Where in the world has Isabel dragged him? She sat them down in a booth then waved to the bartender and batted her eyelashes. Michael looked between the two of them.

“You know her,” he asked, surprised?

“We hooked up a few times. Let’s just say she was my, awakening?” Michael nodded in understanding. “She’s really cool and nice but it’s not serious.” Alex was his ‘awakening.’ But he seemed to be a lot harder to shake. There was never any ‘just hooking up’ with him.

The waitress came over holding two colorful drinks. Michael rolled his eyes but he could enjoy something like this. The blue and purple faded into each other. He shot Isabel a look.

“Where exactly are we?”

“You weren’t paying attention? Planet 7. The local LGBT bar.” He hummed in realization. That explained all the colors. He didn’t even want to know what the drink he held in his hand was called. Probably some pun on ‘bisexual.’

“Not that I don’t appreciate the change in scenery, but why here?” A mischievous grin settled on her face. “If you say it’s cause you wanna get laid, I’ll just leave now,” he joked. She rolled her eyes at him.

“While that might be nice, no. It’s not why we’re here.” He took a sip of his drink. Rum. It wasn’t his favorite type of liquor but the drink wasn’t half bad. It was certainly fruity.

“You just gunna sit there and watch me chug this or are you gunna tell me why?” She looked around before leaning close.

“Forrest is a regular here. I figured it you wanted more information on the guy…” Michael groaned. He loved his cousin really, but sometimes she was not the brightest. People don’t normally go around talking about other people to strangers.

“Look Iz, I’d rather not think about him at all.”

“I know Max told you to consider bringing him in on the curse secret. Or at least part of it. You should know who the guy is.” He ran a hand though his hair. She was right, but what could he get from these people that he couldn’t get from a quick google search or from Max?

“I can see you doubting my methods but trust me, you can get interesting stuff from the people in town.” He sighed. Might as well let her do her thing. She was the socialite of the family. He waved his hand, signaling to the rest of the bar.

“Well then where do you suggest we start?” An evil grin settled on her face. What was she--?

“Hey Blair, I have a question!” The bartender from earlier returned to the table. Isabel rested her chin on one hand and played with the straw in her glass with the other. “Have you seen Forrest around recently? My cousin here is kinda into him,” she said sweetly. Michael just about choked on his own drink.

“Iz—”

“He was last here a few days ago. Seemed a bit distracted. At least your cousin has good taste. Even though I don’t like guys, he’s always nice to look at. Really sweet too.” She looked over her shoulder at a group and continued, “James might be able to give you more info. They dated for a while, but it didn’t work out. They’re still friends from what I can tell.”

Michael glared at Isabel. She thanked Blair before casually taking a sip from her drink. So what if Forrest was good looking? Even by lesbian standards. Sure Michael wasn’t blind. Maybe he was always focused on Alex that he never thought about it before.

“People here love romance. Everyone’s always trying to set people up. Just for the drama of it all,” she said, laughing at the look on his face.

“So, why’d you throw me under the bus? Why not just make up a person?” He shook his head at her giddy expression.

“Because then it looks like we’re fishing for information.”

“Ok, but we are,” he pointed out.

“But they don’t have to know that. Let’s go.” She suddenly stood, grabbing his arm again. There really was no stopping her if she was determined. “James!” Isabel called as they walked up to the table. The guy that turned was on the muscular side, probably played some kind of sport.

“What can I do for you,” he asked, smiling?

“Blair said you used to date Forrest Long?” Everything about this screamed ‘bad idea’ to Michael. They shouldn’t be prying into his life like this.

“Yes, but why?” He raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of them. Isabel looped her arm through his, pulling him forward.

“My cousin here has a bit of a crush. He’s kinda shy and every time I try to encourage him, he just gets nervous,” she said, stealing his hat that he was trying to hide behind. The blush on his face was definitely noticeable. He hoped this wasn’t what she did to people who had real crushes.

James chuckled and shook his head before taking a sip of his drink. He turned towards them fully for the first time, a knowing grin on his face.

“That guy has always been popular. He’s really great. Thoughtful, caring, always tips more than twenty percent. He’s supportive and crazy smart. He can take a dumb idea and turn it into the best. Probably one of the best relationships I ever had.” He seemed to be smiling at the memories. Michael shoved his hands in his pockets, pretending to be nervous.

“If it was so great, why’d you break up? If you don’t mind me asking…” James shrugged and shook his head.

“There were too many secrets. The nature of his job just made it hard for him to tell me anything. It just ended up getting in the way of our trust in each other. We’re still friends and I wish him the best.”

“But doesn’t he work for the police? In a place like Roswell how many secrets could there be,” he asked? He laughed a bit.

“The police stuff he does wasn’t the problem. It was the other stuff for the military. But let me make something clear. If you’re really into him, go for it. He’s a great guy. And maybe things have changed. Now I can’t tell you everything about him. That takes the fun out if it.” Isabel let out a small giggle and thanked him. Then she was pulling Michael away and back to their little booth.

She plopped the hat back on his head then crossed her arms, just smirking at him. He would admit that knowing he still did work for the military was helpful. But what exactly was his title? He was a weapons specialist for the police but what else?

“Fine. I’ll admit that some of it was useful. But we still need a google search and whatever information Max can get,” he pointed out, fixing his hat.

“Fine, just dismiss my perfectly executed plan,” she huffed. Michael laughed and rolled his eyes.

“Yea about that… Never do it again,” he said. The grin returned quickly.

“No promises,” she said, winking.

-

Alex lost track of time again. He and Forrest had sat and talked through the dinner rush, the weekend drinkers and the bar had started to wind down. Everything was just so easy.

“You did what? How did you get away with that? My second in command would have had my ass for sneaking out,” Forrest exclaimed.

“I told you. I became best friends with my second in command. She covered for me a lot when I wanted to meet up with a guy. Now it was only when we had time off, but she was pretty awesome.” Forrest laughed and shook his head.

“Wish I could meet her. She still in the service?” The smile fell from Alex’s face. He didn’t even know if she was still on this planet.

Staring into the amber of his beer, his thoughts drifted. He doubts she died. An angel can’t just die, right? Forrest noticed his shift in mood. He reached across the table to take his hand, rubbing his thumb over it comfortingly.

“She’s uh… missing,” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry. That can be worse than just being gone.” Alex nodded slowly. He squeezed his hand. “Hope makes everything harder. But we need it just to survive.” A tear slipped down Alex’s cheek. He wiped it away quickly.

Forrest gave him a gentle smile and stood, still holding his hand. He moved to stand in front of him. The raised table and seats made them about the same height this way. He looked around the bar then stepped closer.

Forrest pressed a quick gentle kiss to his cheek. His eyes flicked around the bar, panic settling in this gut. No one seemed to be watching but he couldn’t shake the feeling there was.

Alex wanted to kiss him. To accept the comfort he was offering. But every part of his body screamed to run. To not associate with him until it was safe. He didn’t want him to get hurt. What if his father found out? What if…

“Hey. It’s ok,” he said gently. His smile was sad but understanding. “I’ll drive you home.” Alex nodded and pulled out his wallet, tossing a few twenties down. It was probably too much but he didn’t think about it.

He followed Forrest without a word. Even the car ride was mostly silent. What was he supposed to say now? Maybe he should apologize for the way he reacted? Thank him for the thought anyway?

They pulled into his driveway and he shut the car off. They sat there for a moment. Alex picked at his nails. He took a deep breath.

“Forrest, I—"

“You don’t owe me an explanation. I get it. But if you ever want to get out of that closet, you let me know. I’ll walk you to the door.” He smiled and hoped out of the car. Alex knew he shouldn’t let his father or other past experiences get in the way of this.

What happened with Michael was different. He still felt awful about it, but he couldn’t let that hold him back forever. Thinking of Michael made his chest ache. He knew he needed to find him. The dream had told him so. But was he ready to be found?

He shook his head and jumped out of the car. Hurrying to catch up to Forrest. The motion sensor lights clicked on.

“I had a really nice time today,” he said, pulling a key out of his pocket.

“Likewise. I hope we get the chance to do it again.” Forrest smiled and leaned against a pillar. Alex smiled back, pushing the door open. “I’ll see you around, Alex.” He turned and started back to his car.

“Forrest, wait!” He stopped and turned. An eyebrow raised.

Before he could second guess himself, Alex took his face in his hands and pressed his mouth to his. Forrest ran his hands over his arms, pulling him closer. It felt good, like he didn’t have to worry about anything. But a little voice in the back of his head kept him from lingering too long.

He pulled away slowly, breathing heavy. A small smile sat on Forrest’s face, as though he expected nothing less from him.

“I like you. Just give me a little time,” Alex murmured.

“I’ve got nothing but time. I just hope it doesn’t take too long.” Alex chuckled and released him. He watched as he pulled away, flashing his brights in a final goodbye.

The dull ache settled in his chest. He ignored it only until he made it to his bedroom. It slowly become impossible to ignore. Something wasn’t right. Michael was calling for him.

[ottelis]

"I gave you my life, Eliott," Lucas's voice shatters, splinters.

Eliott replies softly, broken, hollow, "And I gave you mine."

"No," Lucas says, low and dark. "No, you didn't."

.

.

aka: eliott and lucas grow up together, but are separated when eliott is institutionalized in paris after a severe depressive episode. they reunite two years later when eliott is released, but everything has already changed before their eyes.

epigraph. i. ii. iii. iv.

04—charcoal

tw: uses of the q slur and mentions of death, suicide, and electroshock therapy

july 18th, 1968

12:58

caen, france

~

The days start blurring together again, but the colors are a little clearer, rarely mixing and mudding together. Eliott thinks Friday was mostly gray; Saturday was a pale, sky blue; Sunday was a rich, muted green; Monday was a peachy pink; Tuesday, was a pale, pale yellow; Wednesday was a faded white; and today, Thursday, is a pastel orange. But all Eliott could think about all week was Lucas.

I don't know what to do, Eliott.

I'm sure you understand that your loyalty isn't as precious to me now as it was when we were younger.

We can't be together anymore. I was wrong back then. I'm not a queer. I know now. 

I don't think so, Eliott.

In that moment, I wanted to hurt you. And I knew that what I said would hurt you.

In your letter, you said that you just wanted to know if I would nurture your loyalty a little longer. I will. If you'll let me.

All these same words, swirling around in his mind until he's dizzy, until they burn behind his eyelids every time he closes his eyes. And he hears Lucas's voice through it all, every inflection of disappointment, fatigue, frustration, despondency, and hope, and Eliott feels the sting of it all over again. 

But Eliott doesn't feel devastated. He still feels that lingering sense of acceptance, and it veils him in a thin cloud of depression. Thin enough to see through, but thick enough to darken his surroundings, to start draining the color from everything ever so slightly. It's like a pain, an ache that doesn't hurt too terribly, but it still lingers, constantly trying to keep making its presence known. He can't deny that it's there, and he can't push the pain away as easily. It's bothersome, and it's dark.

He just can't figure Lucas out. And he can't figure out why he let himself accept Lucas's apologies so easily. He should've fought back. He should've asked him more questions, challenged more of his recent actions. He should've let himself take control for once instead of following Lucas's lead, only reacting instead of acting. He should've done so many more things in that moment instead of being so passive, but he can't picture himself taking the initiative again and marching up to Lucas's door and demanding he answer. Perhaps, a small part somewhere in the maze of his mind surrendered that day where the grass ends, and it took over the other night. And maybe that little spec is strong enough to convince the rest of his mind, his body to simply give up. Let Lucas move on. Let him marry Chloé, let him go to Paris for medical school, let him live a new life. Maybe there really is a parallel universe where they won't be together forever, and Eliott just happens to have the crushing misfortune of living in it.

He wanted to tell his mother what happened that night. But then he would have to admit that he's hurt Lucas more than he already has, and that he's upset because he finally knows that Lucas didn't love him as much as he loves Lucas. He finally knows that Lucas probably never loved him like that at all. And he's not only upset, he's afraid. Afraid that he'll come to the same realization that Lucas has. Maybe they really were just two stupid boys who needed more love than they had, so they turned to each other. They fell into each other's arms and crashed into each other's lips because they had nowhere else to go, nowhere else they felt safe taking refuge in. Maybe it all really was some passing fancy, something convenient that they took advantage of the few moments they had it. 

Maybe the love that has driven Eliott his whole life, the love that has shaped him and raised him up into the man he is now, was never truly real.

A part of him is happy this didn't destroy him as much as it could have, but a larger part hates that he's not as upset as he should be. He's practically lost Lucas, his best friend and, dare he say, the love of his life. He should be wailing and gnashing his teeth and pounding his fists into the earth and crying out in anger at God, at fate, at whatever thing has taken almost everything he loves away from him. He should be surging through every day with a hungry, raging flame of anger. Or he should be in such mourning that he fears his eyes will never be dry again. His whole body should heave with his sobs, his mouth should always taste of the bitter salt from his tears, he should feel the strain on his heart, wait in perfect patience for the moment it breaks and he'll finally be free from his pain. He'll forever be known as the boy who died of a broken heart, who died because he loved someone far, far too much. He has a right to feel angry, to be completely shattered. But he doesn't. He's just tired. And he doesn't know how to wait for Lucas to reach out to him and tell him that he's ready to talk. He doesn't know how much longer he can be in this depressed, almost apathetic state before it morphs into something worse, something he can't control. He just doesn't know.

Him and his mother are eating lunch as his mind is still running rampant, trying to hold back all the feelings of guilt and depression so she won't notice. It's trying to find a solution, too, though it isn't sure which problem it wants to fix. Eliott isn't sure, either. He isn't sure where to begin, or if any solution will actually work. His confusion, his desperation is growing, and he doesn't want it getting out of control. He doesn't want himself to get out of control. Not again. Every time he loses control, he—

"Eliott," his mother begins, her voice soft, a little sad. "I'm thinking about visiting Papa today. Do you want to come with me?"

Eliott looks up, blinking away his reverie. He takes a deep breath as he tries to think about her question. The last time he was there, his father's memory helped him more than he thought it could. And maybe he could tell his father everything that happened. He could tell him the truth about everything, all the truth he never got to tell him when he was still alive. Yes, he won't be able to answer, or give him a hug or tousle his hair, but maybe if Eliott just says the words out loud, he could start feeling better. Maybe.

He nods, giving her a small smile. "I'll come."

She smiles back at him. There's something shining in her eyes, and he can't tell if she's happy or if she's about to cry. "Good," she says, her voice wavering slightly. She clears her throat. "Is it okay if we go once we finish our lunch?"

He nods again. "That's okay."

"I know you've been feeling down again, honey," she continues, still quiet. "And I think this will help you."

Eliott bites his lip, but nods. "I think so, too."

"I love you," she says, reaching across the table and placing her hand on top of his. "You know that, right?"

"I know," he smiles. "I love you, too, Maman."

Eliott doesn't eat much of his lunch, but his mother smiles at him understandingly and offers to wrap it up and save it for later. He smiles back at her and accepts.

"I can make us some tea when we come home," she says as they walk out the front door. "Does that sound good?"

"Sounds good," Eliott agrees. "Thank you, Maman."

"You're welcome, honey," she smiles, kissing him on the cheek. "Ready?"

He nods, and the hum of the engine and the music on the radio is almost soothing as they make their way to the cemetery.

It's a beautiful day, but not quite as beautiful as the day his father died. The air is just a little too humid and stuffy, the wind is a little too harsh, the sun a little too dim. But his father always liked summer. He was rarely sick when it was warm, and he usually felt strong enough to go down to the beach with Eliott and splash around in the water with him. They would go down to the library and read books together, or just wander around the town. His father was so close to seeing another summer, but he was too sick, too weak to live another day. He wonders again if his father's half-open eyes saw one of the most beautiful days France had ever seen before he died. He hopes he did.

He blinks as he hears the engine and the music suddenly cut off. They're here. The cemetery doesn't look nearly as dreary in the broad daylight. Most of the markers are a light, weathered gray, and the grass is a much brighter, healthy green. The eerie silence of the place is interrupted by the soft rustling of leaves, branches in the wind. It's almost beautiful.

He hears his mother unbuckle her seat belt, so he does the same. He takes as many deep breaths as he can. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to the idea of only seeing his father in a cemetery, and only seeing his name, and only seeing the two little dates and knowing, in between them, how little time he spent with his father. It's a strange feeling. He always feels a ghost of a shiver running along his spine here, but yet he's filled with a catharsis, a kind of comfort.

He follows his mother to his father's grave, and he sees tears in her eyes. He puts his arm around her, and she rests her head on his shoulder.

They reach his grave, both releasing a heavy sigh. She doesn't weep like she used to. He can hear her sniffle, but he can't feel her trembling. Still, he holds her close, holds her up. He knows she still needs it.

They stand there for a moment, silently mourning. Not very many thoughts have run through Eliott's mind, and he hasn't yet cried a single tear. He only feels that lingering sadness he's felt the past few days, and the pain of it is dull, yet plunging. He hates how he barely feels anything right now.

"Maman," Eliott begins, speaking past the familiar lump in his throat. "Can I talk to Papa? Alone?"

She looks up at him, worry written all over her face. But she smiles. "Okay. I'll be in the car."

"Thank you," he smiles back, enveloping her in a tight hug. 

She pulls away, kissing him on the cheek before walking away.

The cemetery is eerily, eerily quiet before Eliott finds the courage to speak.

"Papa," he begins shakily, taking what feels like his millionth deep breath. "I need to tell you something. I never got the chance to tell you this while you were alive, but," he pauses, trying to taste the words before they come out of his mouth. They taste strange, unfamiliar, but they're right. "I'm queer, Papa. I... I don't know if there's a better word to describe it, but I don't think my heart falls in love with just boys, or just girls, or just boys and girls. It just falls in love. It runs rampant and it drags me along and I can't help but listen to it and follow it. And, somewhere along the way, it fell in love with Lucas. I don't know when or why or how it happened, but it did. And, not long before you died, he told me he loved me, too. And then we kissed. And, suddenly, we were calling each other mon amour and finding little places where we could kiss again and fall even deeper in love," Eliott chuckles as a single tear rolls down his cheek. "I wonder if people saw me back then and wondered why I was so happy. And not the happy I am when I'm manic. Truly happy. I've never been so happy in my life, Papa, I swear it. I didn't even need to be around him to be so beyond happy. I just had to say his name, or picture him in my mind, and my heart would soar. I was in love, Papa, I am in love," His smiles, his laughs disappear. "But he's angry with me. Or, he was. I'm not sure. When I first came home he was. He was angry because of what I did before I had to go to the institution. And he didn't talk to me for weeks, and he started talking to me again the other day at his birthday party. But he doesn't want to talk about anything that happened before. I think he's hoping I'll just forgive him and then we'll never have to talk about any of that again. He... He feels so much but he refuses to let it show on his face. He refuses to let other people see it. He refuses to tell anyone about it. He's stubborn and he bottles everything up and then he lashes out and then he realizes how much he can hurt people and he hates being reminded of that, of how powerful his words are, how sharp his tongue is. And... I don't know how to help him. He's worse than he was when we were younger. And I know in the back of my mind that I'm probably the reason why he's gotten worse, but I don't know how to help him. He won't tell me how. I know every inch of him except for his mind. His skull might as well be empty for me. I can't figure him out anymore. And I think he's given up on figuring me out, too. And... he's engaged now, and he says he never loved me the way I loved him. And when he said that, I think it confirmed everything I was already thinking, and I was okay with it. I accepted it. Well, parts of it. I don't think I could ever forget how happy he made me. That's the part I can't seem to accept. If he didn't love me the way I loved him, why did that make me so happy? Why did I take his little crumbs of affection and let my smile spread and let my heart fall in love with him? I just... I'm afraid that this is really where we grow apart. I'm afraid that universe is branching off into other universes and we're on completely different paths. And, if we are, if that's what's happening, wouldn't it be my fault? I chose to try to take myself away from him, and now he's made his choice, too, I think. I don't know what to do, Papa."

He knows his father couldn't answer, but when the silence comes back, unsettling and snaking underneath his skin, it makes the lump in his throat break open in a strangled sob. He breathes, slowly, rubbing at his eyes. He breathes, breathes. He walks away, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. He breathes again, as slowly as he can. He calms himself down, leaving himself with that lingering, prickly sadness that's been haunting him for days.

He hopes he doesn't look like he's been crying as much as he has been when he reaches the car and climbs into his seat.

"Are you okay, honey?" his mother asks almost immediately. "You look like you've been crying."

He nods, taking another deep breath. "I just miss Papa."

It's not a lie, but his father isn't the only person he misses so much he feels like he could burst.

"We'll get you home and I'll make you that tea I promised," she replies, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Would that make you feel better?"

Eliott nods again, smiling a little. "It would."

His mother doesn't try and talk to him as they drive home, which he appreciates, but it's still a little too quiet for his taste. He turns up the radio a bit, even though he isn't particularly fond of the song that's playing. The day is still beautiful, his sadness still haunts him, Lucas is still quiet and distant, his mother is still far kinder than he deserves, and his father is still dead. Everything has changed, but in this moment, nothing has.

They arrive home, and Eliott sits at the table as his mother makes tea. He looks out the window, towards the water, watching the waves lap and froth and imagining the music they must be making. He still hasn't gone swimming since he came home, but whenever he entertains the idea, something holds him back. Lucas can't come with him, and neither can his father. The last time he went swimming alone was when he tried to let the waves crash over him and sweep him away. He's not afraid of the water, not like Lucas is now, but he supposes he's at least wary of it now. Maybe, if Lucas really does want them to be friends again and tries to fix things between them, they can go swimming like they used to. They could wade out, little by little, so Lucas doesn't get too scared, and the chilly sting of the water will wash all of Eliott's bad memories away. Couldn't they?

The kettle boils, and the waves seem to calm.

He turns his gaze back towards his mother, who began to pour the water into their mugs. He smiles at her gratefully as she hands him his, chuckling when she reminds him that the tea will be hot.

"So," she begins, setting Eliott ever so slightly on edge. "What did you tell Papa about?"

Eliott sighs, bobbing his teabag above and below the water. He decides to tell the truth, at least a piece of it. "Lucas."

"Have you heard from him again at all?" she asks carefully, adding sugar to her tea.

Eliott shakes his head. "Not at all."

"You're sure you don't want me to talk to him or Madeleine?" she asks again.

Eliott nods. "He'll talk to me when he's ready."

"It's been almost a month since you came back, honey," she replies. "What's holding him back?"

"He has his own life now, Maman," he shrugs. "One that I probably need to stop intruding on. I don't think he wants me in it."

"Why wouldn't he want you there with him?" she asks, almost frustrated. "You two have spent almost your whole lives together. You go away for two years, and suddenly he doesn't want you around anymore? It doesn't make sense."

"I told you what he said," he sighs, putting his tea off to the side. He's still not angry. He's just still tired. "It wasn't the two years that I was gone. It's the reason why I was gone for two years. It's because I tried to kill myself."

The words fall from his mouth so quickly it makes him feel sick to his stomach. It makes the color drain from his mother's face. It makes a tense silence fall between them.

"I'm..." Eliott chokes out. "I'm sorry, Maman. It's just that I can't undo what I tried to do that night. I can't unwrite those letters I wrote, or unthink the thoughts that made me want to try in the first place. I can't unmake Lucas's anger. And I don't think I can unbreak our friendship. He'll patch a hole in it then move on and never look back like he always does if he decides to talk to me again."

"Honey," his mother starts, but the word dies in her throat and she doesn't say anything else.

He shakes his head, running his hands through his hair. "I wish he would just talk to me and tell me he just doesn't want to be friends anymore so I can stop hoping and wishing that things will go back to the way they were. No matter how much things keep changing right in front of me, a part of me still keeps imagining a world I remember, a world that's kind to me. I wish he would tell me if he's going to kill it or nurture it. It's tearing me apart. He's tearing me apart."

She doesn't know what to say. He can tell from the way she purses her lips and the way she can't quite look him in the eye.

"It's okay," he tells her. "I wouldn't know what to say to me, either."

She sighs, lightly tapping her fingers on the table. "Maybe you could write everything you're feeling? Or maybe draw?"

Eliott shrugs, but the idea flows easily into his mind and lifting his spirits, if only slightly.

"You haven't drawn in a while, haven't you?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "I gave Lucas a drawing for his birthday, but I don't think I've drawn anything like I used to since Papa died."

"Do you want to try it? We can go and buy some supplies," she proposes, hope in her eyes.

He nods. "I'll try it."

july 20th, 1968

01:11

caen, france

~

As much as Eliott believes drawing will help him, he's had to work up the courage to simply pick up the new charcoal pencils his mother bought him yesterday, let alone put them to paper. His mind is full, as always. Full of emotions, memories, ideas of what to draw, ideas of what he would say to Lucas whenever he's ready to talk. if he didn't know better, he would've thought he was in another mania based on his scattered mind alone. If he was in a mania, the thoughts would've pushed him, urged him forward as he followed every wit that crossed his mind. But his thoughts are suffocating him, backing him into a dark corner. His mind seems to be teetering on a fine line between mania and depression, and it reminds him of the day he tried to take his own life. And that terrifies him.

He remembers someone saying that when anniversaries of traumatic events arrive, people's emotions are heightened to a frightening degree. Anxiety, depression, fear, despair. Today marks two years since Lucas's drowning, and two days from now will be two years since Eliott's suicide attempt. He hates how close together two of the worst days of his life are, but things were so different back then. Eliott was frightened, desperate, traumatized. Lucas was dead for the longest, most frightening ten minutes Eliott could imagine. How could he ever forget that? How could he ever recover from knowing that beloved body was ever lifeless? How could he chase away the frightening possibility that Lucas's heart stopped before Eliott could cling to him and swim desperately to shore? How could he live knowing that Lucas's drowning was all his fault?

Last year, Eliott's mental state while he was at the institution was deteriorating rapidly, and the anniversary coincided with another failed medication trial. He spent the anniversary of Lucas's drowning with the bit in his mouth and the shocks ripping through his brain, and he spent the anniversary of his suicide attempt still reeling from the shocks, too weak and disoriented to spend too much time dwelling on remembering. He doesn't want to spend the anniversaries this year in that same situation, but his terror only grows at the thought of having to deal with it with a somewhat clear mind.

And how Lucas must have felt, must feel. All because of Eliott.

He shakes his head, shakes away the memories, the possibilities, the blame. He looks back down at his new sketchbook, feels the chalky charcoal rub smoothly against his fingertips. He takes a deep breath, letting his eyes slowly close.

Breathe. Create. Forget. Just for a minute or two.

He opens his eyes, and he touches the charcoal to the page, letting his mind control his hand. Whatever's on his mind, it'll speak in tones of dark black or faded gray. The picture will be black and white, but Eliott's heart will provide all the color.

may 27th, 1966

19:47

caen, france

~

The sun is setting, kissing the water and making it blush a fierce gold as Lucas kisses Eliott softly, gingerly on a rippling sea of wrinkled bedsheets. Their legs are tangled together, and their foreheads touch and their noses tickle against each other. Lucas weaves his hand through Eliott's hair, wrapping the occasional strand around his finger if he finds a small curl. Eliott can feel Lucas's eyes on him, but he's staring at the little mole on his neck, the dip of his collarbone, how his skin turns into something like honey in the light of the setting sun. 

"He'll be okay, Ellie," Lucas finally says, still the softest, kindest thing that ever sang in Eliott's ear. "He'll get better."

"It's different this time," Eliott mumbles, fidgeting with the collar of Lucas's shirt. "He's never been this sick before. Never. I'm just waiting for Maman to call and tell me that he's dying, or that he's already dead. It could be any minute now."

"She won't," Lucas replies, kissing the tip of Eliott's nose. "He has some of the best doctors in the country looking after him. They'll make him good as new."

"My papa's been sick my whole life, Lu," Eliott shakes his head, tears filling his eyes. "Every time he gets really sick or he goes to the hospital, all I ever hear is that he'll get better. Someday they're bound to be wrong. Someday he'll be too sick and the doctors won't be able to save him."

"He's not too sick," Lucas reassures, but his voice is thin, almost breaking. "He's not too far gone."

"You keep saying that," Eliott says, finally looking up at Lucas. He sees something in Lucas's eyes he rarely sees; pity. 

"How could I tell you that your papa might die?" Lucas sighs, closing his eyes. He shakes his head, opening his eyes again and gazing at Eliott with that same pity. "I know what it's like to lose a father, but not like this."

"You don't have to tell me," Eliott replies. "And you don't have to try and tell me things you don't believe."

Lucas is quiet, biting his lip and avoiding Eliott's gaze. Ever so quietly, he says, "I know."

"Lucas," Eliott begins, taking a deep breath. "Hold me. Please. Hold me until this is all over."

The corner of Lucas's mouth turns up into a sad, half-smile. "Okay."

Eliott manages to smile back as he cuddles closer to Lucas, resting his head on his chest. He feels Lucas's arms enfold him, holding him tightly yet softly. He feels Lucas kiss and whisper into his hair, feels his thumb gently caress his arm. He listens to Lucas's heartbeat, feels the soft cotton of his shirt brush against his cheek, smells his salt and his sleep, and he prays that somehow, Lucas is right.

Lucas's breaths start evening out, and his heartbeat slows. Eliott looks up and sees that his eyes are closed, and that his lips are parted ever so slightly. Lucas could always fall asleep so easily, and Eliott always envied him for it. But he smiles, kissing the tip of Lucas's nose, his forehead. He doesn't stir, and he snores quietly.

Eliott watches him for a moment, studies the way his long eyelashes fan against his cheek and are lengthened by their own shadows. He watches the small strands of hair falling over his forehead drift on the breeze from the open window, from Lucas's breathing. Lucas smiles, ever so slightly, in his sleep, and he sighs contentedly.

He's so beautiful, Eliott thinks. How did I ever deserve him?

Eliott carefully pulls himself away from Lucas's hold, finding his bag and pulling out his sketchbook and pencils. He climbs back onto the bed, still careful about waking Lucas. He starts drawing Lucas's head, etching out every sleepy line in his face, every messy strand of his hair. He draws the sloping line of his neck, the hills and valleys of his shoulders, the slightest curve at his waist. He draws his open hand resting by his face, his fingers slightly curled and his palms almost completely shadowed. He tries to draw all the little fibers he can see in Lucas's shirt, chasing the hems and trying to reign in every loose thread. 

He stops drawing for a moment, wishing he had a colored pencil that matched the shade of Lucas's skin in this light, and what such a color could be called; pale honey, ambrosia, euphoria, tenderness. He tries to commit the color to memory, the perfect blend of oranges and yellows and dusty pinks. His grin widens at the thought that maybe, if the world is kind to them, Eliott will see this color over and over again. That he'll see the love of his life look so heavenly every day, and be reminded again and again that Lucas is his, and that he is Lucas's. That he'll fall deeper and deeper in love until he forgets what it's like to live in a world where his soul wanders aimless, alone. He offers up another prayer that, like they say, thoughts will become words, and words will become actions, and that actions will become habits. For Lucas is the most addicting and yet satisfying habit Eliott could ever have.

His heart sinks, just a little, as he studies his drawing. It's beautiful, but not as beautiful as Lucas truly is. His heart sinks, just a little further, as he imagines people thinking Lucas is one of the most beautiful people they've ever seen, without ever seeing him like Eliott does.

He leaves his sketchbook on Lucas's nightstand, carefully crawling back into his arms. But Lucas stirs, and his eyes slowly blink open. He smiles when he sees Eliott, tilting his head down to kiss him again. Eliott kisses him back, hoping Lucas can taste the love that fills his chest and presses against his seams, the love that only appears as long as Lucas lives, breathes, sings.

"Why'd you get out of bed?" Lucas asks, his voice deep and crackling.

"I drew you," Eliott replies. "While the sunlight was still shining on you."

"You did?" Lucas grins, tracing Eliott's cheekbone with his thumb gingerly.

Eliott nods, grinning back at him. "I did."

"You'll have to show me when I'm less sleepy," Lucas says, kissing Eliott again. It's soft, slow, smiling lips against smiling lips. "I love you so much."

Eliott feels his heart glowing, bursting. He kisses him a little deeper, a little harder, making the smallest moan rumble from Lucas's throat. Eliott slows then, breaking away for a moment before kissing him again, gently, patiently. Lucas melts into him. They stop for breath, almost chuckling at each other out of pure joy.

" I love you, too,"  Eliott says against Lucas's lips. "More than anything."

They become like the waves against the shore, their lungs harmonizing in slow, sweet sighs. They hold each other, their bodies fitting together and clinging as tightly as they can. They slowly fall back asleep, braving the darkness they're entering together. The wind flows through the window, gathering their secrets and vowing that they'll keep them, falling silent and dying in the sky's throat. The moon is still bright, her freckled face smiling sadly as she watches them, knowing all the threads of the universe and knowing how they all tie together. She whispers, sings, "All is well. There is a calm after the storm, a peace after the war, a warmth and a comfort when burning heat fades away. Brave through, my darlings. To be brave is to be alive, to be well. All I ask is that you remember, still, to be gentle all the while."

The Lallemants' phone rings.

july 20th, 1968

10:17

caen, france

~

Eliott wakes with a jolt from a dreamless sleep. The sun is well on its way through the sky, its rays almost completely lighting up his room. He sits up, fighting against his head and heart weighing him down to his bed. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and tries to ignore the throbbing pain in his skull. He looks down at the floor, where his small binder of drawings lies open. On the left hand side is the drawing he made of Lucas while he was sleeping, the last serious drawing he ever did before his father died. The pencil markings are weathered slightly, the page stained a pale, pale yellow. On the right hand side is the drawing he did a few hours ago, another of Lucas, but the way he looked the moment he opened the door and saw Eliott there. Eliott reaches down and picks it up, studying it more closely. 

Lucas's mouth gapes open slightly, highlighting his cheekbones and his jawline, exposing his teeth. His eyebrows are raised, curtained behind stray locks of his hair falling over his forehead. His eyes are wide, sparkling with something like shock, despair, confusion, realization, recognition. Eliott still hasn't figured out what that something is, or what he can call it, but he thinks he'll never be able to forget it. It should've struck him to his core. It should've warned him that something was wrong, that something was different. But he didn't see it, then. He was too blinded by Lucas, by the future he thought they could have together, loving each other like they used to. 

Eliott briefly entertains the idea of what could've happened if he had listened to that ghost in Lucas's eyes, if he had just walked away right then and there. He wonders which is worse: knowing Lucas is angry and knowing the distance that's growing between them is all his fault, or not knowing why Lucas is upset and letting their friendship fall apart, wither away naturally. Which is worse? Animosity, or ignorance?

He sighs deeply, putting the drawing back in his binder. He wants to reach out to Lucas today, somehow. He probably won't try and talk to him, not yet. Maybe a letter?

Eliott tears a blank sheet from his sketchbook and moves over to his desk. His hand hovers over the page as a thousand words flit across his mind, as he tries to catch the ones that feel right. He starts writing.

 Lucas,

I've been thinking about you, and us, and everything that went wrong. And you were right. I was selfish. I was foolish. I was a boy. I was sick. I'm still sick. My sickness will never go away, no matter how many shocks they gave me, and no matter how many times I scream and pray for it to leave me alone. It hurts people and sometimes I can't stop it. It's hurt you so many times. I've hurt you so many times.

I was sick that day. A dizzy, euphoric sick. I was in love with you. And your name, your face mingled with my mania and it took me higher than I've ever been before. I couldn't imagine being away from you for even a second. So, I woke up at dawn and bounced around my room and thought about all the things we could do together as I got dressed. Then I went over to your window and woke you up, and we raced each other down the street until we couldn't breathe and our sides were aching. Do you remember us finding almost every alley and kissing until our lips started turning blue? Do you remember me dragging you to almost every shop and promising to buy you anything you wanted? Do you remember that whole morning, the beginning of that afternoon? To be honest, all of that is a little hazy for me. All I remember is you. Your smiles, your laughs, your breathing, the taste of your lips, the feeling of your skin. All I really remember is you.

But what I really remember is when we got to the beach. I'll remember that hour as long as I live. I'll remember those ten minutes as long as I live. But everything I felt then is nothing compared to what you went through. I'll never try to understand it, because I don't think I ever could. But what I do understand is that you never would've gone through what you did if it weren't for me. If I hadn't been sick, or if I had been able to control it, or if I wasn't so attached to you, or if I didn't love you as much as I did, you would've never known what death tastes like, or seen his dark, inky face, or felt his cool, welcoming embrace. 

You told me the day I came home that you don't go near the water anymore because it reminds you of me. It doesn't remind you of dying. You're not afraid of drowning again. It reminds you of me. I took that away from you. I took all the memories of splashing in the water, and watching the waves breathe against the shore, and I tainted them, darkened them before your very eyes. I almost let the water take you. I almost let it take me, too. The water consumes, erodes, strangles. Just like I do. 

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't blame you for not being ready to talk. Take all the time you need, Lucas. Live your life a little more. See what it's like without me. See if you're happier. Because you deserve all the happiness in the world, Lucas. You deserve to breathe every particle of it, swim in every drop of it. And you deserve even more than that. You deserve love. Dizzying, breathless, heart-racing love. I don't know if I can give that to you. I think I've given you all the love I have. I want you to decide if it's enough, even though you deserve so, so much more. I've told you before that I'll be waiting for you, and I still will, but if you decide you need to walk away, I will, too. I'll stop waiting, and I'll let you find the happiness and love you deserve. I won't blame you. How could I? Maybe Chloé really is the love of your life, and maybe she can be the one to give you everything you deserve. I won't blame you for that either. How could I?

I feel that I'm full of hope, Lucas. A part of me hopes that I can learn how to control this sickness, figure out its warning signs, its weaknesses. Another part hopes that my touch and my heart will soften, and that my mind and tongue will calm. But there's a third, larger part that hopes for nothing short of the best for you. It hopes that no more of your tears will be shed unnecessarily, that your mind will never worry for another unnecessary second, and that your heart will glow as brightly as it can until it must dim and flicker out. And may your heart live as long as it can. May it bleed scarlet and passion and loyalty. May it sing with all its voice. May it guide you down any dark, winding path and carry you every step of the way. May it love so fiercely that it may burst, but it's not afraid to. And may you hold it, nurture it. May you live.

Yours,

Eliott

 He sighs deeply as he sets his pen down, reading over his words again. He's exhausted, and his heart aches, but it feels right. He folds it and places it in an envelope carefully. His hands starts shaking again as he writes Lucas's name, and he hopes he'll recognize his handwriting. He seals the envelope, the lingering sadness he's felt for days dulling, numbing. He takes another deep, deep breath and leaves his room, walking down the stairs to deliver the letter to the Lallemants' mailbox.

"Where are you going, honey?" his mother asks from the kitchen, looking up from her bowl of cereal.

"I'm taking this to the Lallemants'," he replies, not waiting for her response. He tells her that he'll be right back as he closes the front door behind him. 

The sun is still shining brightly, but he can see dark, looming clouds peeking over the horizon. The waves are loud today, crashing against the shore with a shout, a cry. It's hot, stuffy. He picks up his pace, almost jogging to the Lallemants' mailbox.

He opens the slightly rusted mailbox, its creaking grating against his ears. He winces, then shoves the letter inside. But the sadness starts to come back, slowly, just beneath his skin as he does. He shuts the mailbox and hurries back home, the sun shining brighter and the waves crashing louder and the heat becoming unbearable. 

He stumbles as he walks up the porch steps, and he lets himself fall, exhausted. Tears are suddenly spilling out of his eyes, and there's a strong, familiar weight crushing his chest. He hugs himself, rocking back and forth as the tears become loud, choking sobs. His mother must've heard him, because he suddenly feels her arms wrap around him.

"What's wrong?" she asks through her tears. "My baby boy..."

He wails into her shoulder, feeling his heart shattering slowly, slowly into pieces as the acceptance becomes full, filling his chest and nearly stopping his breath.