#but I’ll start reading something lighthearted and wonder I start feeling more and more uncomfortable the further in I get

[quietplaceinthestars]

I wish people who write lotr fanfic didn’t inevitably end up writing low key constant emotional abuse to their blorbo.

[tojitiddies]

✰ TEACH

pairing ⋆ toji fushiguro x fem!reader

synopsis ⋆ in all your years of teaching you’ve never encountered a parent like toji.

warnings ⋆ vaginal sex, oral sex, creampie, dacryphilia if you squint, dumbification

ꔵ the first time you ever saw toji fushiguro was around second month of school, when megumi had began acting up in class. you knew megumi to be a spoiled rich kid, as he was always being dropped off and picked up in sleek black cars with tinted windows, along with his older sister tsumiki. sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of the driver if megumi ever needed assistance getting his bag out the car, but that was the only semblance of adult supervision you’d seen megumi receive outside of school faculty.

megumi was always dressed crisply and his meals efficiently packed. he really didn’t seem to understand the concept of sharing or caring and relied on his tiny fists to solve conflicts. this was all a stark contrast to his sister tsumiki, seeing as his older sister’s teachers only sang her praises. truly you had tried to get through to the seven year old, but out of all the trouble makers you’d ever taught, megumi really liked to work your nerves.

which brought you here, at a parent-teacher conference with megumi’s father, toji fushiguro. his large figure looked comical as he sat in one of the small plastic, colored chairs, usually inhabited by first graders of course. he wore a plain black t-shirt and white slacks. he also had a black blazer that he he had draped over the side of his chair. the side of his lips was decorated with a menacingly large scar that twitched occasionally as he listened to you speak.

“... all i want is for megumi to have a good time here in first grade. i know he and his sister are new so making an adjustment may be difficult, but i’d like to make the transition for young megumi as smooth as possible.” you finished as you fiddled with your fingers.

toji shifted in his chair with a slight grunt. “mrs. ____ is it?” he asked. you shook your head.

“just miss actually.” you corrected him shyly. his entire demeanor was so intimidating you didn’t want to insult him. you almost miss the mischievous glint in his eye as you lift your eyes to face him again.

“i understand your concerns with my son. i had no idea what a little shit he was being. especially to such a beautiful young woman as yourself.” his tone is suggestive, contradicting the polite smile adorning his lips.

you smiled uncomfortably. “thank you, but i would never think of your son as...a little shit. i’m sure he has a sweet side somewhere. which is why, i thought maybe megumi could benefit from some sort of counseling?” you suggested, pushing forward a slip of paper. toji leaned forward taking the document from the desk and began to read over it, his brow quirking up in interest. “alongside being a first grade teacher i also serve as a counselor here at the elementary school.” you began to explain. “although i’ve never counseled a student of my own in fear of bias, i think it would be wise if megumi had someone whom he was acquainted with.”

toji set the slip back down and set his gaze on you. you squeezed your thighs together as he fixed you with his stare. he really was intensely attractive. “hm, how unfair is it that my son gets more alone time with you than i do?” this time he smirked. so it wasn’t your imagination, he was flirting with you.

“mr. fushiguro?”

“i’m only teasing teach.” he chuckled. “i agree. i think we could all benefit from megumi’s counseling,” he folded his arms over his broad chest, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt. “so when does he start?” your eyes zoned in on toji’s biceps before blinking back up at him he pretended not notice you ogling him. “ah well...next wednesday perhaps? all i need is for you to sign the slip.” you said sliding him a pen from your desk.

your fingers brushed against his as he took the pen. you tried to ignore it, knowing he was probably only try to get a rise out of you. he began to scribble his signature, once he finished he stood up from his seat and you followed suit. “thank you mrs. ____ for contacting me.” he said, holding out his hand for you to shake.

you took it, letting his large hands envelope yours. “ah...again it’s just ms. ____. i’m not married.” you corrected him again with a lighthearted laugh. toji smirked at that before he leant in towards you. startled, you froze, afraid he might kiss you, until you realized he was only leaning towards your ear. “we’ll be in touch then, ms. ____.” he spoke in a lower tone. you were left standing there completely dumbstruck as he retrieved his blazer and threw it over his shoulder.

“yes...” you murmured quietly in response as he left you alone in the classroom.

ꔵ three months into counseling with megumi you had begun to see progress. his angered outbursts only came in waves and he had stopped using his hands and started using his words. his attitude toward you had also warmed up and he had even began giving you hugs. you were happy all the exercises you’d been working on with him were finally starting to pay off.

the only big issue? his father.

every time you spoke to him there was always a flirty or suggestive undertone. he never crossed the line but he would constantly get close to doing so. there was one counseling session a couple weeks ago when he came to pick up megumi (something he had suspiciously started doing ever since your counseling had started). you were both standing outside the door of the classroom, with megumi inside coloring, as you briefed toji on his counseling session.

“so he’s doing well then, i’m glad. but how are you doing teach? i know dealing with these little brats all day can’t be good on your stress.” he said, resting his hand on your forearm. you glanced down at his thumb caressing your skin before laughing nervously, brushing his hand down. “ah...really i’m alright mr. fushi - “

“i’ve told you to call me toji.” he interrupted, his voice dropping to that low tone once again.

you cleared your throat, trying to settle the butterflies that formed in your stomach. “thank you toji. but really i don’t mind it. i’ve been doing this for almost eight years now..” you tried your best not to let your voice waver under this suggestive tension.

toji stepped forward, the space between the both of you becoming almost non existent as your breasts came in contact with his chest. “well just know teach...” he murmured, lifting his fingers to your chin, “if you ever need any stress relief - “

“papa!”

you jumped back from toji like a frightened feline, while toji stood in place clearly unfazed by his child’s sudden presence. you’d been so focused on trying not to jump toji’s bones right then and there, you hadn’t even noticed megumi open the classroom door. “can we go home now? i’m hungry.” he whined, brandishing a cute pout on his face.

you couldn’t help but smile at the cute kid. toji bent down and picked him up, resting him on his hip. “hungry huh? well you can eat this knuckle sandwich for interrupting ms. ____ and i.” he teased, playfully twisting his fist into megumi’s face. megumi giggled slapping away his large hand before turning to look at you. “sorry ms. ____.” he apologized sweetly. yet another skill he’d learned from his counseling sessions.

you grinned and leaned forward to pinch his cheek. “don’t worry about it lovebug! it wasn’t that important anyway.” you chirped, glancing over at toji to see his lips twitch into a frown. you held back a giggle at how identical his pout was to little megumi’s. you leaned into the classroom to take megumi’s backpack off the hook, which toji took and swung over his free arm.

“say goodbye to ms. ____, megumi.” toji instructed. megumi raise his arm to wave, which you met with a small high five instead. “i’ll see you in the morning megumi!” you cheered. toji glanced back at you briefly. “don’t forget about my offer ms. ___.” he said with a wink, before turning back around and walking off with his son.

once he and megumi were out if sight you fell back against the classroom door with a whine. toji fushiguro would truly be the end of you.

ꔵ the afternoon sun shone through your window as you finished up the last of your student reports. as you began to pack up, you heard a knock at your classroom door. “come in!” you called out, not bothering to look up from your work.

you sighed as you gave up on organization and just began to sweep the papers into a folder, but before you could finish, a large hand fell on top of yours. you let out a yelp, looking up to find toji fushiguro smirking down at you. he looked as though he’d come straight from work, blessing you with a tight button down shirt and black slacks. god, he was a work of art.

“afternoon teach.” he greeted you.

“mr. fushiguro what a surprise. what are you doing here? megumi’s gone home already hasn’t he?” you asked, trying to keep calm as a million more thoughts raced through your mind.

“ah, that’s right. he’s long gone. ‘s just you and me.” he said as he fixed you with his strong gaze, his hand closing around yours. “i came because i wanted to thank you. i haven’t seen megumi like this in awhile. i know this was mostly a school thing, but he’s been less of a little shit at home too,” he informed you, his thumb slowly caressing your hand.

you were becoming putty under his touch. “yes...i’m glad gumi’s doing do well at home too. all i want is the best for him.” you answered, stumbling over your words a bit. toji brought your hand up to his lips kissing your knuckles. “mhm...so i was wondering if you’d thought about my offer?” he asked, looking back at you through those lustful eyes.

“mr. fushiguro - “

“toji.”

“t-toji...i’m delighted you would pay me a visit simply to thank me, but it really isn’t necessary.” you could feel his aura start to envelope you, the tension between you two thickening with lust. the most he’d done was kiss your knuckles and already you were trying to keep from rubbing your thighs together.

still holding firmly onto your hand, toji began to walk around your desk. “ms. ____, i insist you let me properly thank you because i feel you’re deserving of it. do you not?” he murmured, gingerly pulling you up out of your seat, guiding your hand towards his chest. your fingers instinctively hooked around the fabric where he’d left his shirt unbuttoned. his other arm snaked its way around your waist.

“toji...we shouldn’t. this is highly unprofessional, i could get fired. and what about megumi?” you rambled, trying to keep your composure. toji leaned down and began to press sweet wet kisses down your neck. you sighed out, letting your hand fan out across his chest.

“megumi will be fine teach. no one has to know anything as long as you can keep a secret. now let me take care of you.” he whispered, licking a stripe up your neck. his knee came to situate between your thighs, you wasted no time grinding against him. a soft moan escaped your lips as you let your head fall back against your shoulders.

“kiss me...please?” you mumured, hooking your arm around his neck. toji’s scar twitched as his lips formed a smirk. he lifted his head, grazing your lips against his before pressing forward. the kiss was rough and sensual, both of you devouring each other in a clash of lips and tongue. you moaned into his mouth, continuing to grind against his thigh. when your lips finally separated, a string of saliva connected you before dripping down onto your blouse.

“enjoying my thigh teach?” he taunted, flexing his thigh muscles and causing you to let out a breathy moan again. “y-you’re teasing me.” you whined desperately trying to grind your clothed clit against his thigh muscles. the hand on your waist slid down taking your thigh and pinning it to his waist, granting you better access. “so needy for me hm?” he murmured into your ear, taking your lobe between his teeth. “tell me what you want baby.”

your hand fisted his collar as you desperately ground yourself against him. “please fuck me toji. i can’t take your constant teasing anymore.” you whimpered, nuzzling into his shoulder. toji chuckled at that before reaching behind you, clearing your desk in one fell swoop. papers and files fluttered to the ground as he lifted you up on top of your desk, spreading your legs.

you both hastily begin unbuttoning your shirts, one of your buttons popping off in the frenzy. toji chuckles as he lowers himself to his knees, his chest muscles rippling as he moves. “i can’t believe you have the nerve to walk around in a tight little skirt like this.” he laughs wickedly, sliding up your pencil skirt until it bunches up at your waist. you feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment as the wet spot in your panties becomes noticeable. toji slides his finger up your covered folds, the slick coating his finger prints. “how lovely.” he purrs to himself.

“please...” you whine breathily, scooting forward hoping he’d take the hint. he chuckles darkly blowing against your clothed clit before pulling aside your underwear to marvel at your dripping cunt. “look at that.” he marvels before letting his tongue dip between your folds. you let out a choked moan. it had been so long since you’d been touched this way by someone other than yourself, it felt like heaven. he paused only to hook his fingers around your panties and discard them who knows where.

just as quick as he was gone, he’s back to hungrily bury his tongue in your cunt, switching between prodding your hole with his tongue and sucking your clit. your fingers fisted his raven hair, as you loudly praised his skill through moans and chants. the wet sounds of him slurping and licking up your arousal egged you on to grind against his mouth. waves of arousal just keep coming, whatever his tongue couldn’t catch dripping onto the desk.

your thighs threatened to close around his head as you felt yourself coming close to climaxing. “fuck stop! toji i’m gonna cum,” you whine out, weakly trying to push his head away. you hear him hum in amusement as he instead, moves his hands up to spread your thighs back further. his tongue works your hole, slowly spreading it wider before he’s able to curl his tongue inside. you let out a loud cry, your hips jerking and bucking as you’re overwhelmed with pleasure. your vision spots as you cum all over his tongue, your thighs threatening to snap around his head but his hands keep you in place.

toji finishes licking up the rest of your arousal before rising up from between your legs, towering over your trembling figure. one hand comes up to your chin, roughly tilting your head up to look directly at him. “open,” he commands, to which you obey immediately. your tongue rolls out lewdly as he spits your arousal down your throat. “good girl,” he purrs. “now turn around, i’m about to fuck the living daylights out of you.”

eagerly you turn around on your stomach, thankful for the desk supporting your torso as your sure your wobbly legs would not be able to. you hear toji unbuckling behind you as your spread your legs slightly, swaying your hips hoping to entice him to move a bit faster. toji’s hands come to spread over the globe of your ass cheeks, kneading them in his palms.

“you’re so fucking sexy. i’m sure you already know ever since we’ve met this ass has been all i ever think about.” he chuckled, letting his hardened cock slide back and forth between your folds. you let out a whine moving your hips back against him. “i want you to fill me up so badly, please hurry.” your croak out, your voice hoarse from your previous climax. toji brings down his hand against your ass harshly, receiving a yelp in response. “and who you do you think you are ordering me, huh teach? i’m not one of your little first graders baby,” he grunts, spreading your ass cheeks again, letting the tip of his cock tease your aching hole.

“beg for it.” he taunts in a sing-song tone, sliding his cock up and down and against your cunt. your let out a small puff of air as you turn your head back to look at him with your pleading eyes. “please toji...please stuff me full. i haven’t been fucked in so long i wanna be filled up please.” you whimpered, your hips stuttering against his cock, now lubed up with all the juices he’d collected. your begging seemed to please toji, his scar twitching as his lips formed a smug smirk. “good girl.”

toji slammed his cock inside you, no regard for easing you on to his length whatsoever. tears pricked your eyes at the sharp pain, your insides spasming around him. “shit, you feel like a fucking virgin squeezing me so tight. you weren’t kidding about not being fucked in so long, hm?” he chuckled. you didn’t get the chance to respond as he was already pulling out to slam back in. it hurt so good, the pain and the pleasure of being stretched around his girth. he continued to thrust harshly inside your cunt only receiving broken moans and strings of curses from your lips.

his hand came to your hair, his fingers roughly grabbing your head back. your arousal began to return once more, dripping down his cock and making the most obscene squelching and sucking noises. “such a naughty teacher, letting a parent fuck her right in the classroom, huh?” toji’s gruff voice came from behind you. you whined, one of your hands reaching behind you to spread your ass cheeks to grabt him more access. “feels so fucking good, fuck me harder, please.” you manage to say through clenched teeth. “harder baby? you got it.”

before you can even think to react, his arms come to circle around your thighs, lifting you up against his chest. you let out a small cry, your arm instinctively circling around his neck for upper support. toji holds you up, legs spread over his cock. the cool air of the classroom hits your clit causing you whine out in frustration. toji chuckles. “impatient, are we teach?” he murmurs before ramming his hips up into you, his cock sliding back in immediately. “fuck!” you blurt out in surprise.

this new position had him hitting you in places no one had ever discovered and your tits bouncing up and down with fervor. your cunt fluttered, hearing his grunts so much closer to your ear. your lips fall slack, your tongue rolling out ever so slightly as he fucks you dumb. everything just feels so fucking good. “fuck keep squeezing around me just like that teach, i’m gonna cum.” he growls into your ear “fuck...stuff me full of your cum t-toji,” you sob, feeling yourself come closer to your second climax as well.

you bring your free hand down to your clit, rubbing it slow in contrast his quick thrusting. you wanted to savor this feeling. “god, keep touching yourself just like that baby,” he moans, swiveling his head to sink his teeth into to your shoulder. everything seems to slow, the pleasurable drag of his hardened cock against your walls, him hitting your spot just right, the way you sucked him back in as he pulled out...

“toji i’m - “ you can’t even finish before a wave of pleasure knocks over you, your vision spotting once again as he brings you to your climax for a second time. toji continues to fuck into you faster chasing his own high before you feel the spurts of thick cum filling your insides. you’re barely able to think, your fucked out daze taking over. you barely notice him move you off his softening length to set you down. you immediately grab ahold of him, your legs unable to support you at the time. you can feel his cum and your arousal begin to trickle out from your cunt, earning a satisfied whine from your lips. toji laughs softly, leaning down to press a kiss against your forehead. “i haven’t had a good fuck like that in awhile. you were better than i imagined, taking me like that.” he spoke, his voice sounding muffled to you as your daze still hadn’t worn off. you hum softly nuzzling into his warm chest.

toji bites his lip as he looks down at you, you’re just so fucking cute clinging to him that way. he lifts you up on to the desk, carefully dressing you back up. he can’t find your panties so he just pulls you skirt back down from where it had gathered at your waist. he tucks your breasts back into your bra and picks up your blouse from the floor. he smirks at the missing button, doing what he can to close your blouse back up.

you smile gently, watching toji perform his aftercare. this must be the fatherly side of him you rarely get to see. after he’s finished dressing you both back up, he sets his gaze back on you. “so, i’ll see you next wednesday ms. ____?” he asks, settling back into his usual smug demeanor. you scoff before muttering out a small confirmation. he grins that smug toji grin. “perfect then. i’ll be sure to tell megumi you said hello.” he walks out shutting the door behind him, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall.

authors note ⋆ hi! this is my first time ever writing and posting something here on tumblr <3 i really hope this wasn’t too bad this took me like three days to write and i deleted and added a bunch of stuff so i hope it isn’t too wacky. thank you for reading!

[ackerlert]

The Restaurant

Jean x Reader (3 year time skip since end of Season 3, pretend Annie is not in a crystal LMAO)

NSFW WARNINGS: female pronouns reader, oral sex (m & f receiving), sex with jean’s horse cock, reader aroused by his blush LMFAO, slow build up

“Oi. Get back here brats,” Levi grunts, gesturing toward a door. “Time for dinner. I know the restaurant’s all you brats have been thinking of. Especially you, Sasha.”

“Yahoo!” Sasha squealed. “I wonder what Niccolo will make today…maybe even that pizza he was telling me about…” she mutters, smiling to herself and probably daydreaming about stretchy cheese and marinara sauce. 

Connie grinned, sharing a look with the other smirking cadets--no. Soldiers. All of the cadets had grown into soldiers now, ranging from 17 to early 20s, plus some new recruits who had joined, including you.

Everyone knew Sasha had a thing for Niccolo-- it was something you and all the other cadets teased her about almost every day. The atmosphere buzzed with a lighthearted feel as the group joked around. You had all just recently completed a successful mission clearing Ragako of some straggler titans left from 3 years ago, and it had gone extremely well: so well that the Corps were getting rewarded with a trip to Niccolo’s restaurant.

The Corps made their way to their destination, the train: a new machine designed by Hange and other engineers she had recruited, it would be their way to the restaurant. Everyone stared at it with slack jaws and wonder-filled eyes. It would be your first time on the locomotive.

The Corps rushed forward, all clambering to get on first and sit with their friends and significant others.

You, along with your group of Mikasa, Eren, Armin, Annie, Connie, Sasha, and Jean were the last to file into the last cart.

Pair by pair, your group began filing in. 

You and Jean Kirschtein were last in line to get on the train, and the uncomfortableness you felt surely was justified. After all, the others basically all knew who they would sit near and talk to--Sasha/Connie, Mikasa/Eren, Armin/Annie-- except you two. You couldn’t help but sneak a look at Jean, standing next to you in the line, tallest in your group. His dark eyes looked a bit tired but still had a hard glint of intensity -- probably just excitement to visit the restaurant. You also noted his broad shoulders and a bit of a scruff on his sharp jawline -- characteristics that had not been there before a few years ago, when you had first caught a glimpse when you joined the Corps.

He’d always been attractive. Whenever he smiled at you when you said something to your friend group, whenever he would grasp his hair when he seemed frustrated. And you couldn’t forget his blush and the way his dark eyes glanced away in embarrassment that day you complimented his hair. Although he had seemed intimidating, you had felt a spark of arousal at his blush.

“Y/n. Y/N.” Mikasa frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. C’mon, get on the train!” Connie pouted.

Your eyes snapped up in surprisement. You hadn’t noticed how your mind had drifted into that memory of Jean’s blush, and how everyone, including Jean, was already in the train cart.

“Sorry! I’m coming!” You blushed and clambered on the train.

There was a stretch of awkward silence for a few seconds as you realized the problem.

“Er...why isn’t there room for me?” You asked, frowning a bit.

“The only place you could sit is one of our laps, you could sit on my lap!” Sasha offered, smiling at you, a crumb on her lip. 

“Sasha, don’t forget you have all that food stuffed in your pockets. Y/n might smush it and you would cry later,” Connie said, rolling his eyes before looking up at you apologetically. “Sorry Y/n, but I honestly don’t know where you could sit.”

Silence filled the train car for another second, before you heard Jean’s husky voice. “There’s a small bit of room next to me.”

You gratefully accepted that as your best seat, and tried to squeeze in. One of your legs was against Jean’s and the other one was almost hanging out, but you tried to brush it aside.

As the train lurched forward, you heard Jean’s voice again, this time closer to your ear and a bit softer. “You can move in closer, you might fall off like that.”

“Thanks, Jean.” you reply, inching closer. You became aware of his leg’s warmth against yours. 

“Damn those thighs are strong...“ you thought to yourself.

You sat like this for a while, in discomfort, listening vaguely to Armin tell Annie about a book he had read.

All of a sudden, your shoulder was jerked to the side and your legs were thrown to the side.

The train had just bumped over a bridge, and you sighed in annoyance until you realized the position you were in: Jean’s steely thighs under your own, his warm chest on your back, and the tickle of his hair on the top of your left ear.

You immediately flushed red, and were about to scramble off his lap until his right hand gently patted your shoulder. You froze.

“Wait, uh. Y/n, I-I think you should wait a while. The road above is a bit bumpy, and the train might throw you off,” he muttered, his face turning that beautiful pink color again as he retracted his hand and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Okay. Thank you so much, Jean,” you said quietly, still aware that you were on his lap. You wondered if he could feel your legs tense up, or smell your hair that you had just washed this morning.

You could feel every breath he took against your back, and every breath you took in smelled like him.

And sure enough, the road ahead was bumpy.

You felt your arousal every time the cart hit a road bump and your sensitive parts rubbed against Jean’s. You hoped he wouldn’t notice, but he appeared to be even more awkwardly tensed up than you about it. His breathing had become a bit erratic in your ear and something under your ass was hardening.

When the train ran over a giant rock, you basically bounced up and back down on Jean’s lap.

When this happened, you couldn’t help but let out a small moan before horror filling your face.

Oh fuck.

Jean stiffened behind you, and your cheeks burned with embarrassment. Neither of you said anything else until you got to the restaurant.

You slowly left his lap, not daring to look back behind you, and entered the restaurant to sit with Sasha and try to erase the sensations of sitting on Jean’s lap.

---

---

---

“I’ll have the steak, medium-rare, please,” you heard Jean’s smooth voice say to Niccolo taking the orders.

He was sitting across from you, and neither of you had mentioned what happened on the train, but it was still fresh on your mind. You couldn’t help but wonder if the slight blush that had been present on his face all meal was from that incident.

As the food came, and you dug in, you couldn’t help but sneak another glance at Jean.

But he was already looking at you with an unfathomable look in his eyes as he took a bite out of his steak.

You quickly looked away.

---

---

---

After the dinner, the Corps were getting lodging in the town of the restaurant.

You had always roomed with Hitch, but today she seemed to have other plans in mind.

“Y/nnnnnn, I am so sorry.. But could we perhaps do a switch?” she asked, lips breaking into a devious smile.

You frowned at the short-haired girl suspiciously.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Well...I really want to spend the night with Annie and Armin after that dinner, I want to see something. So maybe Armin’s roommate could stay here for the night instead?” she begged.

You frowned. You really didn’t want this, but you knew that Hitch would be really sad if she couldn’t see her friends, so you gave in.

“Fine. But PLEASE make sure his roommate doesn’t stink,” you joked.

“Thank you sooo much!” Hitch grinned, squealing.

---

---

---

The door lock clicked open as whoever outside twisted the key Hitch had given him, and stepped inside.

“Jean?!”

You heard the click of his shoes as the man stepped in, eyes falling on you. The room seemed a lot smaller all of a sudden. Although you normally felt pretty tall, you felt small next to Jean.

“Hey, Y/n..” he started. “Looks like i’ll be staying here tonight. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Your bed is the one on the left ” You forced a sweet smile on your face. In your mind, however, you were shocked that Jean was the one staying with you. Memories of his strong, warm chest against your back on the train, his dark eyes on you in the restaurant, and his hard bulge ran throughout your mind again, the way they had plagued your thoughts ever since you had left the restaurant.

You heard a warm and slightly tired-sounding chuckle from Jean, and you snapped your head to his direction, eyes narrowing at him.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he smirked as he glanced up from unpacking his clothes in your direction. ”It was just kinda... cute how you were just staring into space just now, I guess. Wonder what you were thinking about”

You rolled your eyes, a blush spreading across your face. I wonder what he’d think if he knew I was thinking of him, you thought to yourself. Hell, he probably knows. 

Another thought passed your mind as you watched him unpacking, the muscles around his neck and arms moving through his thin collared shirt: With the way he was looking at me earlier at that restaurant... I bet I’m not the only one with thoughts of continuing what happened on that damned train...

You smirked and walked up to him casually as a plan moved in your head. He moved his head and looked at you in confusion. 

He then ducked his head down again, focusing back on unpacking his clothes. You could’ve sworn there was a hint of that blush you love on his cheeks again.

“So...say, Jean. You look awfully tired today,” you murmured as you went on your tiptoes and flicked some of his soft hair.

He turned back to you. It was clear now that he was blushing and glancing down at your chest, nipples visible through your thin training shirt.

You thought of how his complexion looked so nice in the small bits of red sunlight filtering through the window and the glow of the lamp on the small bedside table in the room. It was a shame that his shirt covered up the rest of him right now.

“Yeah...it’s been busy recently I guess.” he muttered a bit tightly, his blush growing deeper as he rubbed the stubble on his chin.

“We should get more time to relax,” you sighed and flopped down on the bed right next to the pile of clothes he was unpacking.

Jean looked at you sprawled on the blankets. You gave him another smile and patted the area beside yourself on the bed. He rolled his eyes at you but gave you a small smile back as he sat down beside you a bit stiffly.

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes as you pulled him to lay down properly beside you, your thighs touching.

“I-uh-” he stammered, clearly not sure what to say now that you two were in such close proximity, and he could feel your warmth next to him.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to say anything,” you explained to him. “I’ve just been so tired and stressed as well, I just wanted to relax tonight.”

You shifted a bit closer to him on the bed. He didn’t say anything or move in the next couple of seconds, the two of you just enjoying the moment in the bed before the stress of the next day’s training and planning would hit.

You sighed softly. How long had it been since you had felt this tired? Sure, the titans on Paradise were basically eliminated--but you were not naive enough to think that this would be the end of your journey as a soldier. Just the thought of encountering more titans across the sea that would threaten your friends and family made you almost sick.

Your pretty face crumpled into a bitter frown.

“Y/n…” he said slowly.

“What?” you replied, looking up at him through your eyelashes, eyes tired.

“I...I want you to be happier.” he muttered, turning to you and fixing his dark eyes on your face. “I know you’ve been stressed recently, pushing yourself during training and so have I, but...stay safe, okay? I’m worried about you.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. Yeah, Hitch and Sasha and Mikasa teased you about training too hard a lot and always checked up on you, but this was the first time someone had noticed you weren’t happy doing this much training, and how you sometimes pushed yourself to limits that you knew you couldn’t keep up.

Overwhelmed with surprise and emotion, you threw your arms around Jean and put your chin on his shoulder. His muscles immediately tensed around you, and his warm hands wrapped around your waist, fitting perfectly in its dips.

You buried your face in his neck, breathing in his delicious smell of wood and wine.

Your thoughts were running at a million miles per hour, and you figured you could be more vulnerable with him now.

“Jean, I...I really liked sitting on you on the train today.” you blurted out, still hugging him.

He went stiff for a moment, and you feared you had ruined the moment between you two until he chuckled, the vibrations from his chest spreading to you.

“Yeah...I liked it too.”

You broke off the hug to look at him, only to find him already looking at you and smirking.

Before you know it, his lips were connecting to yours, and your hands were running through his soft hair and tugging the ends to get him closer to you somehow. He broke off the kiss, and you furrowed your brows, but then felt his lips on your neck, sucking it and definitely leaving marks that would last for the next couple of days.

You let out a soft moan that he responded with by marking your neck even harder. You felt his lips curl into a smirk on your neck.

“Jean...have you done this before?” you murmured.

“Uh…” he said.

Before he could finish his response, you pulled his hair and pulled him off of your neck.

“Relax…” you said, tilting your head to give him your own smirk as you trailed your hand down his chest, rapidly unbuttoning the buttons of his thin shirt and feeling the hard planes of his chest stiffen under your hand. “I want to make you feel less stressed too.”

He groaned. “Y/n...you really don’t have to do this,” he muttered, looking away from you as if embarrassed.

You smiled up at him from your position in between his thighs, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants off before running your hand over his muscular thighs.

“I want to, though. I want to taste you,” you said, keeping eye contact with him.

His dick was longer than you expected, flushed a warm color and with a slight curve at the tip that you knew would hit that spot in you later that brought you the most pleasure.

He let out a choked whimper at the first time your warm tongue touched his throbbing member, his thighs tensing and veined hands clenching the bedsheets.

You continued to pepper small licks around his dick, giving him comments that made him even harder, if that were even possible, like “You look so nice like this.” and “Stay still for me, okay?”

The way the 6”3 man was now completely at your mercy, his head tilted back and muscles tensed, made you get slicker down there.

“F-fuck, Y/n....” he groaned, peering down at you and your flushed face through the messed up strands of hair that your hands had been running through earlier.

You smirked as he continued to groan.

“But I’ve only been licking your tip? Why are you so sensitive?” you teased him, a string of saliva connecting your mouth and his tip. He only let out another moan in response, his tip twitching again.

You relaxed your throat and began to take him down completely, although his length barely fit in your mouth.

Jean let out even more moans, moaning your name and “fuck” repeatedly. A sheen of sweat covered his chest, glistening in the moonlight and lamp light, and you marveled at the sight.

After a few more times of deep-throating him, he suddenly reached his hands down and yanked your head roughly off of his dick. You looked at him, confused at the sudden demeanor change, still wanting to feel him pulse beneath your tongue and see him lose all his control.

“I was about to cum, but I want to wait until I’m inside of you”, he explained. “Now, it’s my turn to taste you.”

He pulled you up from your position between his legs, and roughly pulled off your shirt so that your breasts were out, and you pulled off your shorts and underwear yourself. The cold air hit your sensitive parts, making them even more sensitive.

When you were on his bed, exposed to his dark eyes trailing over your body that you were proud of from all your days of training, you felt heat rush between your legs.

You pushed your legs together, embarrassed all of a sudden, but Jean lowered his body and bent his head down so that he was hovering above your thighs, and spread your legs for you, his grip as tight as steel.

“Don’t hide from me,” he commanded.

You let out a moan in response, loving the feel of his hands pressing into your soft thighs. You knew where this was heading, and the anticipation made your head dizzy.

Jean lowered his face so that you could feel his breath on you, and you whimpered in anticipation. At the first contact of his tongue on you, you moaned, because no other guy had done this with you. You vaguely thought of how after tonight, no other guy would ever compare to how you felt with Jean.

“Jean…” you moaned.

“Fuck, you taste even better than I thought you would,” he responded, as he sucked your clit and ran his tongue through your folds.

As he continued eating you out, his grip still preventing your thighs from closing, he let out some of his own groans that made you even wetter, and combined with your moans to make the best sounds you had heard in your life.

“Jean…” you repeated, gripping his granite-colored hair in your hands. “I want you in me now.”

Jean gave your clit one last kiss before he got up, licking his lips.

He smiled at you, loving the sight of you as a panting mess on his sheets. His dick was rock hard already, wanting to be inside of you.

You blushed when you saw the wetness on his stubble, but he seemed to not mind at all. Jean began rubbing his tip on you, and thrust his hips forward all of a sudden, even though you were still recovering from your previous orgasms.

When he slid in easily, due to how wet you were, both of you moaned at the sensation.

“Oh fuck...you fit me perfectly.”

The sight of Jean, strands from his side parted hair falling into his forehead, darkened with sweat, made you moan even more. His eyes were fixated on you, begging for more of his dick and for him to go faster.

The intensity of his stare made you look away, blushing and moaning, but his large fingers grabbed your chin and made you look back at him.

“Don’t look away.” he scolded.

“A-alright.” you moaned, looking back into his eyes.

He began to pound into your faster, eyes never leaving yours, his hand making his way to grope your breasts before settling around your throat, not pushing very hard but probably leaving marks there.

You seemed to be sucking him into you every time he pulled out again, which made his rough thrusting irresistible and his moans louder.

The intensity of the pleasure you felt every time he fucked you this good made your eyes roll back and sweat to cover both you and Jean’s bodies. 

“Jean...I’m coming soon…” you moaned.

“Me too.” he gritted his teeth and slowing his thrusts so that they were precise and deep.

“Please…” you moaned, not sure what you were begging for: some sort of release, anything, as you clawed his back.

“Please what?” he groaned.

“Please...let me cum…” you whimpered.

Jean groaned at your pretty sounds, so desperate for release, and began thrusting harder.

It was as if he couldn’t control his deep thrusts. You had known that curve in his dick would hit you at the right spots, but now that you were actually experiencing it, you were sure you were in heaven.

With a cry, both of you came, Jean cumming into the condom. He gave you a few more lazy thrusts to milk out your broken cries before he pulled out and leaned down over your naked body to kiss you.

“Y/n… That was amazing.” he blushed again, seemingly shy all of a sudden after he had just fucked you into almost-a-coma.

“I could say the same to you, Jean…” you smiled.

He went into the bathroom and got something to clean you up with.

“We made a mess on the sheets,” you groaned into the pillow. “Hitch is gonna tease me so bad about this tomorrow.”

Jean laughed, his eyes crinkling at you. 

“Whatever. But you look so pretty right now Y/n. How could she tease you when you look so pretty?” he joked.

“You’re too sweet, Jean…” you smiled back at him as he clambered slightly awkwardly back into the small bed with you.

Damn, I am so lucky, you marveled to yourself as he put his arm around you and pulled you closer to his chest. You buried your face into his chest, breathing in his scent. His usually meticulous hair was now messy and tickling your ear again.

“You know … Ymir was right about you having a horse cock…” you giggled.

Jean frowned, pulling you off his chest to look you in the eyes. “What the fuck?!” he snorted, but his lips were pulling up into a smile.

The rest of the night was filled with you two laughing and joking about trivial matters, distracting you from the pain and loss that would happen the next year. But that night was one out of many special nights between you and Jean only.

Hitch took one glance at your messy hair, eye bags, and goofy smile the next morning and instantly began squealing.

“I TOLD YOU SO, SASHA!” she screamed.

Connie and Sasha smirked at you, whispering something about how they had known it since they had caught Jean staring at you during training when you first joined the Corps.

“Hitch...shut up please…” you groaned, exchanging a look with Jean, who was blushing again.

[charming-2d-boys]

Heyo! Love your writing 💖 from most to least, who in the adultrio is most touch starved and how do they deal with it in a relationship? 👀👀👀👀

Hi! This is cute and sad at the same time, but I'll make it all better and fluffier ✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧

Thank you for the request and I hope you'll like it! 😄

Warning: very long, a bit sad because of their pasts, some personal analysis based on common HxH knowledge, gut feeling and theories

A/N: literally poured my heart and soul, especially for Chrollo and Hisoka, because I feel really bad for what they had to go through and how twisted they can be, when things could’ve been so different

So the way I see things is as follows:

From the most touch starved to the least (they all are, absolutely, but the explanation will be below for each character):

Chrollo -> Hisoka -> Illumi

Why? Lemme demonstrate.

Chrollo

since he was probably abandoned at birth in Meteor City, he’s already missing the parents’ loving touch

Meteor City seems to be one of the harshest environments in the Hunter x Hunter universe, probably being second only (at least for me) to the Dark Continent, since that one is just nuts

because of where and how he grew up, he probably never felt anything... good, in terms of touching, affection, love etc.

Chrollo loved no one and no one loved him

not truly and not for what he is

but mostly for his looks, his power, the things he could probably acquire for them

the Spiders are the only ones who accept him as a leader and a friend, a mentor, but even so, they don’t seem that close

and he does seem like the type of person who craves it, so badly

especially after hearing about it, seeing other people do it and even reading all those romance books and poems

but he’s terrified of letting anyone that close to him and seeing him for who he is

not even he knows who he is for sure, so he is just really confused

and all those moments where he touched someone and even seemed like he cared were all lies

Chrollo actually doesn’t really get much comfort from doing it because it’s a total stranger and even though he’s the bad guy, maybe they are bad too

now, if he does get into a relationship, it’s going to be tough

he’s always searching for a catch, a lie, an ulterior motive

so you have to be very patient and actually take it easy

always ask him if he’s okay with what you’re going to do

he’ll always appreciate that and make him feel like he doesn’t have to act or lie or feel pressured into doing something he doesn’t want

if he really loves you and cares, he will slowly give in to the temptation and allow you to get closer to him step by step

maybe not immediately, but he’ll definitely start reciprocating and even initiating those affectionate gestures

and it makes Chrollo so happy when you respond positively because he needs some sort of validation that what he’s doing is okay, you’re comfortable around him, you accept him, you love him, you won’t hurt him in any way

if there’s anything that makes you uncomfortable, tell him, because there’s nothing more he hates than hurting someone he actually cares about

overall, in the end, he’ll be pretty affectionate and romantic with you because your affection, touches, intimacy, domesticity and love that you offer him allow Chrollo find a part of himself, a more human one that he most probably thought he didn’t even have

Hisoka

in Hisoka’s case, I’d like to mention the fact that he had his mother

for how long, we don’t know, but he was taught how to do some magic tricks by her

I do think that maybe they weren’t that close, but his mother could be somewhat affectionate at times

which is probably why he remembers the fact that she taught him pretty fondly

remember the fact that Hisoka doesn’t normally care about the past, so this must’ve been something pretty significant to him and still is, since he employs cards and magic tricks into pretty much everything he does

now, about how touch starved he is?

very

not as much as Chrollo, but certainly not that less either

like I said, he had a parent, his mother, so there was some family bonding and some motherly love (at least a bit), whereas Chrollo had nothing

that doesn’t mean that Hisoka isn’t touch starved

but he doesn’t really pay much attention to that

he probably has a lot of one night stands since he seems to be so... flirty and easily excitable and extroverted

maybe he really is shy, like he said? probably in a relationship and when he is vulnerable, but I’ll get to that in a moment

even with all the one night stands and his personality, Hisoka doesn’t really feel anything, at least not emotionally, when touching or being touched

only physically

and he likes it, but that would be it, he doesn’t feel any emotional connection to anyone

but in a relationship, an actual, real, romantic relationship, things would be different

Hisoka’s going to be flirty, teasing, even mean sometimes

especially when you actually seem to want to know more about him - as a person, his past, his hobbies, anything regarding him, not the persona he has made for himself

but, again, patience and don’t go overboard

it’ll feel like an intrusion

also, yes, touchy, very

but... it doesn’t really feel like anything more than something purely physical and if you tell him to stop, he'll listen and back off

it’s all about pleasure and if you get none, he’ll feel as if he did badly

so he’d rather not have to deal with that

just like Chrollo, he’s protecting himself and his heart

because pretty much no one wanted to be with him, but for the benefits he’d bring them

not that he really let others too close either - whoever did get too close and betrayed him died painfully, I know for sure

but you’d probably start breaking down those walls slowly, in time

he will share things about himself and let you witness it, but not too much and not too often

not really into talking about his past, but again, snippets, not everything

Hisoka’s scared that you’ll use what you find out about him against him

but once he realises that yes, he can trust you and yes, he can be himself?

all bets are off

touchy, flirty, teasing, but in a very... let’s say, lighthearted way, very focused only on the two of you?

the creepy flirting and whatever is reserved for whoever he wants to fight/kill

but with you, it’ll be a lot more romantic and affectionate

will absolutely love having you close physically and touching you constantly

feels recharged and happy when he’s close to you

will definitely be almost like a different person sometimes because he’ll allow himself to be relaxed and comfortable and vulnerable around you

Hisoka likes having someone like you to rely on and be able to talk to about his thoughts and fears (not many, but still), even if it doesn’t really happen that often

but, bottom line is, he trusts you, a lot more than he’s probably trusted anyone in his entire life and will be more honest with you as well

Illumi

for Illumi, I’ll have to say that it’s his family

yes, they trained him to be an assassin and was pretty much just a test subject for Kikyo and Silva since he is a boy and the oldest

but, still, he had a family that, in a way or another, was there for him, preparing him, helping him and providing him with whatever he needed and maybe even wanted

again, this is only my way of saying that he had some sort of contact with people who were close to him, especially from a genetical point of view, ever since he was a child and had help in case he needed it

because of all the torture and training he went through, Illumi is pretty much emotionless and immune to almost anything

he feels no real joy from being touched by others or touching them, and the only ones even allowed to touch him are his family and Hisoka, mostly because he’s persistent and they’ve known each other for some time

the only way he’s really been taught how to touch others is if he has to kill them, so you can imagine that he doesn’t really know what he’s missing on, compared to, let’s say Alluka or Killua, even Kalluto who were raised a bit more... lovingly

so imagine how it’ll be when he gets into a relationship with someone who’s a lot more touchy

he’d probably be pretty on edge and even appear threatening

but, explaining what you want to do in simple terms and your reasons should make him a bit more open, at least to the idea of thinking about this

of course, Illumi’s seen other people hugging, kissing, holding hands etc.

and he’s probably wondered why he never did that

but at the same time, he’s never really felt like he really needed affection in his life

until you came into it

when you started with small things (holding pinkies was something that lasted for like a month), he couldn’t really say that he saw the big deal

but at the same time, Illumi liked it a lot

when it came to hand holding, he loved the way your smaller hand fit into his and almost seemed like it was made for him and he could just keep you close and safe

other things, like hugging or kissing probably took a bit longer

his favourite thing to do has got to be cuddling because he just likes feeling like he can relax around you and also get his daily dose of touch, love and affection from one of the few people he cares about, even loves, and who he allows to touch him

and yes, he’ll slowly start touching you as well

something as simple as a brief hug before he has to leave just makes him feel giddy and he actually wants and needs more when he comes back to you

he likes feeling all those positive emotions, though he doesn’t really like that feeling of vulnerability, but he guesses that it’s only fair, considering the fact that you’re doing the same

to others, it might not seem like he’s changed much: the same emotionless face and the same ruthlessness as an assassin

but when he’s with you, everything just seems a lot more relaxed for the two of you and he can actually just breathe and know that he’ll have you by his side at the end of the day

[a-simple-imagine]

A Little Bit Of Love... Potion?

Prompt: "I promise I won't let him draw on your face with permanent marker." "Hmmm... So can I draw on his face with washable markers?" "No!"

Pairing: Hermione Granger x fem!reader, lots of Ron Weasley x fem!reader

Words: 4.6k

A/N - This was written for @firewhisky-kisses​ writing challenge. This is my second Harry Potter themed story ever since I only joined the fandom like two weeks ago (very much feeling like an outsider atm) so please don’t judge too harshly. I am still getting used to these characters and the wizarding world itself. I decided to write something a little lighthearted. 

Warnings - Playful threats of violence 

"I'm gonna kill him," You growl loudly as you storm into the common room in search of Hermione Granger. She was one of three people at Hogwarts you would consider your best friend. The others were Harry Potter; and the other you were about to murder for catching you off guard. You held a towel around the top of your head to conceal your worst nightmare. Stray Gryffindors were settled around the room doing one thing or another as the day was drawing to a close. Hermione was resting on an armchair by the fire utterly engrossed by the massive book in her hands.

"Who?" She doesn't even bother to look up as you approach.

"Ron obviously," You groan, grip tightening on the towel to stop it from slipping. "who else would go out of their way to annoy me."

An unamused sigh falls past her lips as she finally lowers her book. "Show me,"

"No, it's embarrassing." You protest. Looking around the room; you didn't speak to anyone else in here too often so what did it even matter what they thought.

"Well then I can't help you,"

You shift your weight uncomfortably before pulling the towel off in a dramatic reveal of your beautiful head. Hermione's eyes drift over you; struggling to hold back her amusement as she finally sees what happened. "It's... not so bad," She replies quietly, a melodic chuckle drifting into the air. "Bright."

"I look like a walking highlighter." You whine, taking a seat on the arm of her chair. "Fix it,"

Hermione whips out her wand and with a flick of her wrist you assume your hair has gone back to normal. She was too good of a witch for it to not have. Reaching for her book, you inspect the cover as you slide into her lap. Absentmindedly flipping through the pages with complete disregard for where she was up to. "Ronald Weasley is gonna regret ever messing with me,"

"It is not that bad," Hermione plucks the book from your grasp. "You did slip him Puking Pastilles the other day."

"That was funny though" A smile spreads over your lips at the memory of Ron throwing up in the great hall before charging out. “This isn’t”

"He threw up all over my shoes,"

"Gross," you laugh a little. "If it had been my shoes, it'd be a different story. What should I do to get back at him?"

"Leave him alone? Show you're the mature one and move on?"

"Don't be silly Hermione," Your head falls back against the plush fabric of the chair. "Why should I stop and not him? Maybe he should be the mature one."

"He won't stop unless you stop,"

"I could hex his broom at quidditch practice," You think out loud; chewing on the inside of your cheek. "Watch him fall on his face."

"Absolutely not. You're not putting him in the hospital wing over some silly prank war."

You gently roll your eyes. "We could-"

"There's no we," Hermione interrupts. "Please do not include me in your nonsense. I'm not helping you. Can you get off me?"

Sliding off her lap and onto the floor, you rest your head against her knee. "I'll think of something- don't you worry. He won't be getting away with this."

"At least do it quietly,"

You're quiet for the moment; going over different options while staring at a tower of books on the coffee table. Next to them say some parchment and a quill. "Are those yours? Can I borrow your quill?"

"Knock yourself out,"

You grab the feather and a piece of parchment paper and get to work laying out all your options to get back at Ron. Hermione would probably kill you if you hurt him so that rules out a fair few things. You could buy something at Zonko's but at this point he'd probably see those coming; you can only slip him sweets that make him sick so many times. Then again maybe it was just simple enough to work. You scribble it down on the parchment paper anyway. Next you add the nose biting teacup but that was rather impractical considering he hardly ever drank tea. Acid lollipops were an option, they would just burn a hole in his tongue but that could count as hurting him even if it was an easy fix.

"What are you writing?" Hermione wonders, you glance up to her and smile a little. "I assume you’re not studying all of a sudden."

"Nope," You hold up the paper for her. "I'm listing ways to get back at Ron."

"Of course you are," She takes your list. "Why don't you just buy a joke wand?"

"Boring," Jumping to your feet, you snatch the paper back. "I need to do something out of the box."

"Don't come to me when things go wrong," She insists softly, returning her attention to her book.

"Things won't go wrong," You declare proudly. You'd been doing this since your second year so you kind of have a knack for pulling pranks at this point. "Have a little faith in me."

It takes a day or two but thanks to Harry dragging you along to advanced potions class at the start of the year you decide the perfect way to get back at Ron is to make him fall in love with you. Well, a weird embarrassing obsession kind of love. Commence operation; practice your potion making by creating a love potion and tricking Ron into consuming it. Not only do you get to embarrass him but it can count as studying which will keep Hermione at bay. Not that you're going to tell her because Love potions of any kind are banned at Hogwarts and she'll just insist it's a bad idea. Now all you had to do was figure out how to actually make a love potion. Professor Slughorn has made one at the beginning of the year but you weren't actually taught how to make one nor do you actually remember much about class that day. Once you figured out how you could collect the ingredients and then trick Ron into drinking it. It shouldn't be too complicated.

Every free period following is spent huddled in the back of the library, searching through what felt like a mountains of books on potions.  A good portion of what you read is just the history behind the potion itself and the dangers. It wasn't a potion that would cause him any harm so there was no need to worry. Eventually, you manage to create a checklist of ingredients that consisted of;

Ashwinder eggs

Rose thorns

Peppermint

Powdered Moonstone

Pearl Dust

Rose Petals

This joke was beginning to feel like more effort than it was worth but you were determined to see this through. Ron would never see this coming. After returning all your books to the shelves, you figure getting some help from Harry is the next step. The only place to get all the ingredients was from the potions classroom or the supply room. You couldn't just walk in and take stuff without seeming a little suspicious; you also weren't exactly Slughorn's favourite student. Everyone knew it was Harry. So your final option was to sneak around.

"Harry- wait up," You run up beside him as g walks through the courtyard. Rather surprised to find him alone considering your next class was with him and Ron.

"Hey,"

"Can I ask you for a favor?"

"Depends," He shrugs. You offer him a very gentle smile, fluttering your eyelashes a little. He wasn't exactly the type to say no to you but better safe than sorry.

"Can I borrow your invisibility cloak? I promise I'll return it tomorrow."

"What for?" Your stomach sinks a little at his question. You can't risk telling him in case he tells Ron which will ruin the surprise.

"I need some ingredients for a potion and I don't really feel like asking for permission," Telling half a truth is much easier than coming up with an entirely new lie. "Please? How many times have I broken the rules for you now and I would do it again."

"Professor Slughorn probably wouldn't mind if you just asked. What are you making anyway?"

"I just wanna do some late-night practice. I'm more of a do what I want then ask for forgiveness later kinda person so can I? Please?" Emphasis on the 'please' in hopes that it will somehow help your case.

"Sure,"

"Thank you," Looping your arm with his, you begin to practically drag the poor boy through the courtyard. You couldn't be late for class again. Snape would take any excuse to punish you. "let's get to class before we both end up in detention."

Thanks to Harry's cloak, you manage to collect every ingredient needed for your forbidden love potion and get to work. You wouldn't say potion making was your worst subject but it's definitely not your best either and it was showing. After a few attempts by candlelight in the early hours of the morning, you finally manage to create a love potion. Normally you'd test a potion before recklessly using it on unsuspecting friends but there was no time or way to do that without them catching on. The last step was simple, deliver all kinds of spiked candy to Ron Weasley and pretend like everything was normal.

Sitting in the great hall, you slowly lift spoonfuls of cereal into your mouth as you listen to Neville drone on about his dream; at least that's what you hope he's talking about. Last night had wiped you out; your body was exhausted. You could just about keep your eyes open and all you wanted to do was go back to bed. Hermione was sat directly across from you, very delicately buttering a piece of wholemeal toast.

"I don't think it means anything, you're just thinking too much into," Hermione explains to Neville. You just shrug your shoulders; you hadn't really been paying attention anyway but you manage to perk up a little as Harry plops down beside you.

"What time do you call this Potter?" You scold, bumping your shoulder playfully against his.

"And where's Ron?" Hermione continues.

"He should be here soon enough. He's just taking extra care getting ready."

"Why?"

"He's trying to impress someone," Harry reaches for a bowl of fresh fruit.

"Oh do tell," An aura of giddiness envelops your words as if you don't expect the answer to be yourself. There was a chance he hasn't taken the bait yet and he just genuinely had a crush.

"I promised I wouldn't,"

"Come on, Harry. We won't tell."

"He's never mentioned liking anyone before," Hermione adds to the conversation, biting into her toast with a crunch.

"I don't know- ask him." As if summoned on cue, The redhead appears beside Hermione. He doesn't seem any different other than the smile and distant look in his eyes. Not to mention, he may have combed his hair? You couldn't be sure though.

"Did you sleep in again," She pauses for a second, her brows knitting together in a frown. "And is that... cologne I smell?"

Ron doesn't answer, he just looks at you with the expression of someone hopelessly entranced. It's a little weird but you take it as a compliment on your potion-making skills. "You alright there Ron?"

"Perfectly fine," He nods.

"Are you gonna eat something? We have class soon?"

"I'm not hungry,"

"Not hungry?" The volume of Hermione's voice catches you off guard. "When have you ever not been hungry, Ronald?"

"First time for everything Hermione," You take a sip of your water. All eyes were on Ron but he couldn't tear his away from you; that dopey grin never quite fading away. Was this how it was supposed to work? You had never seen it in action before. "I'll see you all at lunch " You announce, rising from the table. "I forgot my quill again this morning and I can't keep pretending I remember the stuff I'm being taught."

"How many classes do you have today?" Harry calls out before you can leave. You'd think he'd know your schedule by now. "I was thinking we could practice some potions later?"

"She has two," Hermione answers for you.

"Today pretty quiet for me usually but I have a study session later with Luna. She's helping me in care of magical creatures sorry," You flash a tight smile. "Maybe next time."

You had one class this morning and then one straight after lunch. Your free periods were supposed to be spent studying considering you were taking five N.E.W.T classes but you've never been one to study when you don't have to. Thinking on it, you probably could have studied with Harry in your free period before lunch but you think he has class then. The morning class is over before you know it and you're heading back to your dorm for a well-deserved nap when you practically crash into a none other than a Weasley.

"Watch where you're going, Ron."

His expression immediately brightens and he stands a little taller. "Oh, it's you, hey."

"Hello," Ron was a pretty awkward guy on the best of days but this felt weirder. A small, awkward smile settles on your lips. "Don't you have a class right now?"

"Mhmm," He nods but doesn't move nor continue talking.

"Ooookay then, well... I'm gonna go." You slide by him and scamper away. "I'll see you in a little bit."

When you imagined him under the influence of a love potion you expected less creepy staring but maybe he was just working his way up to it.

After a very short nap, that kept getting interrupted you're sat in the great hall waiting for classes to end and lunch to officially begin. There were a decent amount of students, all doing their own thing. Meanwhile the Gryffindor table was practically empty other than Dean, who was sat at an angle on the other side of the table and a couple of seventh years. You'd gotten so bored while pretending to study that Dean had suggested playing a game; this is the third match to decide who comes out on top as the Hangman champion of this free period. Three letters in and none of them had been right. The wooden frame was already drawn and waiting for the stickman to be hung

"S?" You guess.

His head shakes as he draws a wonky circle to start the stickman's fate. "Sorry."

"... I maybe?"

"Finally you got one.," it was a ten letter word and he filled in the second and eighth letters With I's.

"Can you give me like a hint?"

"I'm not gonna help you beat me," Dean replies. "Hey, Harry,"

"Harry!" You greet brightly, turning to find him towering over you. "We're playing hangman, do you wanna join? I'm about to win."

"No, you're not-"

"Did you do something to Ron?" Harry cuts of Dean. You swallow hard. Busted... or maybe not. Your brow furrows as you focus on the curled edge of the parchment you had been playing on.

"What are you talking about? I haven't done anything, I've been with Dean for like the last hour."

"He just seems very interested in you all of a sudden. I thought it was a one-time thing this morning but I've had to suffer through two classes of him talking about how cute and dreamy you are."

"Ron has a crush on her?" Dean's tone was rather playful.

"Maybe he just realised how cool I am," Your shoulders rise in a little shrug. "H?"

"Where is Ron anyway?" Dean adds the letter H to the begging of the word. You still have no clue what the word is but thankfully your two other friends finally appear just in time to interrupt. You'd rather draw by forfeit then lose altogether. Ron nearly shoves Hermione out of the way just to sit down next to you.

"I missed you this morning,"

"Missed you too Ron," You pat him twice on the cheek.

"What did you do to him?" Hermione's eyes narrow in on you.

"Who?"

"Ron obviously," She huffs. "I bumped into in the hallway and he said he couldn't wait to see you."

"As his friend, I'm happy he's excited to see me," You counter, resting your head on his shoulder. "At least someone at this table appreciates how cool I am."

"You're awesome," Ron wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight side-hug "I think I may be in love,"

Dean giggles to himself but Hermione is anything but amused. "For goodness sake,  you can't be serious?"

"I'm very serious," He fights back, sounding almost offended but such an accusation. "In fact," a wave of regret washes over you as Ron gets up and climbs onto the bench in front of the now rather busy great hall. "I'm in love with-" you sink down as he shouts your name for everyone to hear. Mean snickers and playful giggles follow. You reach for his hand, tugging on his arm gently as to not hurt him.

"Sit down," you spit through gritted teeth. Heat rushing to your cheeks as if him announcing his love to everyone wasn't embarrassing enough already

You try to enjoy lunch as much as possible with Ron attached to your side. Hermione was relatively quiet but her harsh glare was enough to put you off starting anything with her. And so you mostly spoke to Harry and finished your game with Dean. The word was Hippogriff which you managed to guess before the final leg finished off the stickman. Thankfully, your next class provided a nice escape from Ron. However it couldn't stop the sly comments in the hallways and mean laughter. This joke was very quickly becoming anything but funny.

This continued into the next day, you were regretting spiking so much candy. Not to mention Hermione hadn't spoken to you since lunch yesterday and you couldn't figure out why exactly. Normally she gets a little annoyed at your silly jokes with Ron but she seemed really mad at you. And considering you share a dorm room, things were feeling very tense, to say the least.

Managing to slip away from Ron long enough for a quick conversation, you find your fellow Gryffindor sat alone having an early breakfast. "I said I wouldn't help you,"

"Huh?" You hadn't even asked her anything yet or sat down for that matter but at least she's talking to you again.

"You want my help right?" She meets your gaze as you take a seat. "What did you do?"

"I actually wanted to know what was wrong?" Which was very much true. "You seemed... upset yesterday. I don't like it when you're mad at me."

"Judging by the way he was all over you yesterday my guess is It was a love potion correct?" you're impressed that she managed to guess and so quickly too. "A strong one at that. That is the only way to explain him suddenly being in love with you."

"I'm offended that you don't think Ron could like me that way," The words came a little more defensively than intended. "am I really that bad?"

Hermione's face morphs through a sea of emotions finally settling on looking a little disheartened. You wonder what's going on in her pretty little head. "It's not that I don't think he could like you that way- maybe he does and that would be fine. You're..." She seems hesitant to continue, her head falling. "amazing. Just that's not what this is."

"You're right," You confirm, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice. "Like always. I slipped him a love potion thinking it would be funny and now it's not."

"How can you be so reckless," Compared she seemed so delicate just moments ago, she quickly bounces back to scold you. "You know they're not allowed at school."

"Worth it," A small chuckle bubbles up from your throat. It had been a little funny and definitely embarrassing plus you got to test your skills so you weren't inherently regretting your decision. You just wish the effects would fade already. "I didn't learn the antidote and I'm not spending hours in the library again."

"It'll wear off soon enough, how much did you give him."

"I made like... a cauldron full but I don't know how much he consumed."

"So it's my understanding that you idiotically gave him a lot?"

Words mumbled by your juice, you nod to convey your answer.

"Then it'll take a while to wear off."

Ron slides up beside you, taking you by surprise. The juice comes back up in sputtering coughs. "Speak— of— the devil."

"Good morning my beautiful angel," Even you cringe at that one. Harry takes a seat on your left side. "Did you sleep well?"

"You should know, you were watching me this morning," Ron pulls you closer to him. When you awoke this morning, not only was Hermione already gone but it had been quite the surprise to find Ron had snook into the girl's dorms to be with you.

"You're so adorable when you're sleeping."

"If you'll excuse me, I can only handle so much nauseating sweetness," Hermione takes one sympathetic look at you and then scurries away like she can't handle being here any longer. Something was definitely off with her. Today was gonna be a long day...

How you longed for the weekend to come early as each class tortured you with new knowledge that had to be burnt into your brain. It didn't help that Ron was getting increasingly annoying; it was like he was incapable of being alone. After the school day finally ended, you retired to the common room; both the boys joined you. Harry was complaining about how much work he's been assigned from one class while Ron seemed happy to just be near you in any compacity. Which right now meant having his arm around you.

"Here," Hermione interrupts, dropping a plugged vial onto your lap.

"What is it?"

"An antidote." She was biting back an insult or an 'I told you so', you couldn't be sure but there was a hint of aggression behind her words.

"Drink this," Before you even have time to process, Harry is shoving the vial towards Ron.

"What is it?"

"I think you should try it," Ron doesn't even question the request when it comes from you. He takes the vial and downs it in one.  An unsure look is shared between you and Hermione but sure enough, Ron's goofy grin begins to fade.

"What the bloody hell happened?"

"I slipped you a love potion and you became obsessed with me." You answer. "It was funny at first but then you announced you were In love with me to the whole school."

"You think a love potion is the same as a comb that changes your hair?" The boy sank into the seat cushion, finally removing his arm from around your shoulders. "I don’t feel so good."

"He needs something to perk him up," Hermione states. If she knew that, she should have come prepared.

"He has candy hidden in his draws"

"Yeah... it's probably best if he gets rid of all that," You admit, getting up. "Wait here,"

It was only fair you provided something so you grab the last chocolate bar you had from your dorm room. "You shouldn't have messed with my hair." You declare, handing over the chocolate with an almost sad smile.

"Now you two can hopefully put this silly war to bed."

"Not likely," Your voice syncs with Ron's, and with it comes a genuine smile. It was nice he was back to normal.

"I have to get back at her."

"And how will you do that Weasley?" You drop back down next to him.

"I think I'll go back to the good old fashioned permanent marker while you sleep."

"Why would you tell me in advance?"

"Because you don't know when I'm gonna do it." He declares with a mischievous glint in his eye. "So now you'll be on edge waiting for it to happen."

In this situation, the equivalent to snitching to a teacher to prevent something from happening was to tell the only one opposed to this whole situation entirely. "Hermione tell him. You had no problem insisting I be the bigger person."

She simply rolls her eyes before turning to Weasley. "Ronald, Consider not retaliating especially with a permanent marker before one of you," she glances towards you; rightful so. "Goes too far."

"she started it," He protests, "I didn't sip her a love potion."

"You better not come anywhere near me with marker pens."

"Sometimes I think I'm talking to myself." And with that, she wonders off

"I'm watching you, Weasley," Now, you were going to have to keep a very close eye on him to assure you didn't wake up with a fake mustache or something. Jumping up you chase after Hermione.

"Thanks for helping." You fall into step with her. "I'd be lost without you."

"I know,"

"Wow. Modest." You mumble sarcastically before falling silent; unsure of how to approach the next question. "Do you like Ron by any chance?"

"Excuse me?"

"Do you like Ron?" You repeat. It was the only explanation you could come up with over why she would be so angry the last couple of days. "You seemed really upset since he's been all over me so I thought maybe it was like jealousy or something."

"Don't be ridiculous," She fires back. "I don't like Ron."

"I never imagined you two together but I think you'd be sweet," You comment, intentionally trying to get a rise out of her. Hermione sighs loudly as she comes to a stop.

"Ron is one of my best friends but I don't like him in that way," From a few steps away, you turn back to her. She's clutching a few books tightly against her chest, refusing to look at you. "I swear that I don't."

"Then what?"

"I don't know," She shrugs pathetically. "I just saw him all over you and I didn't like it. You're never normally like that together and he kept pushing me aside to get to you."

"I'm not following," You're honestly more confused than before.

She approaches you slowly, still unable to meet your gaze but her lips very softly connect with your cheek. "I promise I won't let him draw on your face with permanent marker."

Her words spark a lightbulb. You've never done a double prank but perhaps now would be a good chance. You could do it to him before he gets the chance to do it to you.

"Hmmm... So can I draw on his face with washable markers?"

With a heavy sigh, she simply states her favourite word "No!"

"But-"

"No." Hermione continues walking and you're left watching her.

"Hey," You call out. "Do you wanna head down to Hogsmeade tomorrow? I'll buy you a butterbeer to say thank you."

"You just want to visit the joke shop, don't you?"

"Desperately," She always could see right through you. "But still. I want to go- just you and me."

"I would like that," She finally meets your gaze and she looks happier now. The almost set sun, casting her in such a warm, welcoming glow. Hermione was a hard girl to figure out but that's what made her so interesting. "I was hoping to get a new quill anyway."

[innittowinit]

Can you pick me up? my uni burnt down (Chapt. 2)

Relationships: Sleepy bois inc (all fics i write are platonic)

Summary: 

 In which Techno goes to England for University, his building catches fire in the night, and he isn't prepared for the difference in climate between England and California. SBI fluff ensues

Chapter summary: 

After waking up, Wilbur has the great idea that they should do a sleepy boys stream. Tommy doesn't get told about this id

Words: 1785

Language: English

AO3 Chapt. 1

Listen, waking up on a sofa, with a thin blanket shared with 3 men was never going to be the best morning. His back hurt and his legs were numb from Wilbur having sprawled out over the three of them as he slept. 

Stretching his arms back, he recounted the events of last night. God, it really was only a few hours ago, he was so tired. Had this been last year, he would have been able to stay up for days on end and then just crash for an entire weekend. It wasn’t last year though and Techno had gotten himself into a fairly healthy routine, he couldn’t exactly be sleeping through his uni classes anyway. 

“Alright you two” Hearing Philza’s voice, he propped his head up, “Get up, you can’t lay around all day”

A groan came from the mass of blankets and cushions that happened to be Wilbur, who was curled up in the centre of it,

“Phil it's so early and we went to bed so late. It’s fine to sleep in”

“Okay” he chuckled, humouring his tired friend “It’s midday Wil, im taking the blankets away now”

Techno thought it was much too early too, as he tugged the sleeves of Wilbur’s hoodie down a little further so they could act like gloves. 

“Do you mind if I use your PC to try and find out what’s going on with my classes at some point? They'll probably send me an email or something” He grumbled, standing up so he could stretch his back out properly, following Phil slowly to the kitchen.

“That’s fine, it's up in my room, do what you need”

Breakfast was nice, it had been a while since Techno had had time for it honestly, and even longer since he had been able to eat with people he cared about. He had a couple slices of buttered toast and a bowl of some british cereal which he didn’t really like but he didn’t want to be rude so he ate it anyway. 

“You wanna stream together later?” Wil asked through a mouth full of food, earning a snort from Phil. This was nice. 

“Yeah maybe, you use face cam though, I’m not like against showing them my face but y'know, it is what it is” he shrugged, spooning another mouthful of his breakfast into his mouth, he had to admit it was very bland, he much preferred the sweeter ones that were more popular in America. 

“Well think about it, if you decide you don't want them to see you, you can always just sit off to the side and I'll turn my monitor so you can still see it. My office is big enough for it anyway, it’ll be like where Niki was during that one MCC remember?”

Techno nodded and carried on eating, they really were 3 very sleepy boys right now. Maybe he’d take a nap once he found out what was going on with his classes. 

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

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

Streaming without any gameplay to comment about and with facecam on? Techno wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. That just didn’t really sound like something he was going to enjoy.

It was nerve wracking and he always seemed to glance at the camera too much when it was pointed at him. He knew the fans would be disappointed if he didn’t do it though, When Wilbur tweeted out saying that he and Phil would join him in a ‘you laugh you lose’ he watched as the replies freaked out. 

You could say he was just a bit camera shy, he wasn’t incredibly insecure, sure there were things he didn’t like that much but everyone had things like that, it just made him nervous to know that people were looking at him. 

He’d be okay with his friend’s though, he trusted that they’d never put him in an uncomfortable situation. He knew if he got overwhelmed he could sit outside the frame. 

It would be okay. 

“Hey hey chat” Wilbur mumbled into the mic, making it loud enough so that everyone could hear but it still sounded like he was whispering. 

“We’ve got the blade here, bet you weren’t expecting that huh chat? Or maybe you were, maybe you read the title of the stream, bet there’s someone watching who didn't think he’d be here though” he finally turned the music off and switched from his ‘starting soon’ screen to his regular camera. 

Wil went through the rules, it was the normal stuff, he added in some jokes here and there, prodding Techno and Phil to talk at times. They’d already agreed that this wouldn’t be for youtube, since that seemed to add a bit too much pressure for Techno, but hey, he still had to welcome his chat. 

“Okay!! First media share! Lets go”  

After a series of videos, some funnier than others, Techno had started to loosen up a bit. He was getting more comfortable with the camera and while he’d probably cringe while looking back at the footage, at least he was having fun right now.

He had a warm feeling in his chest that wasn’t usually there when he was streaming alone, sure it was usually fun but nothing was better than being with his friends while doing it, there was really only one person who was missing. 

As if on queue, chat started spamming Tommy’s name, for a moment Techno thought he had been mumbling his thoughts out loud, before he looked between Phil and Wilbur, who both seemed equally confused. Moving Wilbur’s mouse over the chat to pause it, Techno tried to read some of the messages. 

“Oh he tweeted something” he mumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket without a care. Maybe some irl streamers would have used the computer but knowing Wilbur’s history, he doubted it could run Chrome and streamlabs at the same time. 

Looking at the tweet he felt a little pang of guilt. It was lighthearted and jokey but he knew there’d be a little truth to it. He nudged the other two and read it aloud to them. 

‘Damn guess I’m not a sleepy boy after all’

The air felt a little thick after that, they hadn’t meant to exclude Tommy; all of the excitement of Techno coming to stay had just made it a little hard to arrange to have Tommy here after all. 

Still, they probably should have still told him though. They were supposed to be each other's family.  

“Hey chat I think we’re gonna have to end stream early.” Wilbur finally piped up, deciding it wouldn't be right to carry on when they had hurt their friend, not that chat needed to know that though, he didn’t want to embarrass Tommy. 

“I feel kinda sick and I don't think you all wanna watch me vomit right? Yeah so it’s best we end it now” 

Techno sniggered to himself at that, in games Wilbur always seemed to be very cunning but he supposed he wasn’t very good at lying when it was about something he actually cared about. Said something being Tommy.  

After raiding Fundy, the trio hopped straight onto discord. 

Tommy didn't answer the first time he was called. 

Or the second. 

Finally, after three calls, Tommy decided he’d talk to them. 

“You are all a bunch of dick heads, you know that? What the hell! Why wasn’t I invited to the sleepy boy’s stream! Wilbur you bitch!” Through all the vulgar language and the constant yelling, it was clear that Tommy was genuinely upset. 

He had every right to be, as far as Techno was concerned. From his point of view his friend’s had just gone off and hung out without him. He just hoped he’d calm down once they explained everything.  

“You know I thought we were friends! I thought we were brothers! But if you don’t wanna hang out with a ‘kid’ you can just tell me and i’ll- i'll go!” He was still yelling, as usual, it was clear he was trying to make this into a joke where he could overreact but Techno noticed the small sniffles and the quiver in his voice. 

By the looks on Phil’s and Wilbur’s faces, they recognised it too.  

“Listen, Tommy” 

Wil was the first to talk, it made sense, it seemed that Tommy trusted him the most at times. Sometimes Techno could be a bit too cold and sometimes Phil could get a bit too overbearing.

Techno understood this, he didn’t take it personally, he knew it was only natural that you have people you trust with your emotions more than others. It didn’t mean Tommy didn’t love them just as much, just that they weren’t his ‘go-to’ when he felt down. 

Techno felt the same way sometimes. Feeling’s got complicated and personally he thought Phil was the best to talk to about that, the fact that he was older and had his life sorted out gave him a sense of comfort, like he could trust him because he knew what he was talking about. 

“We didn’t plan a meetup, it just sorta happened. Phil was at my place, helping me record, and then Techno’s Uni had a fire and he needed a place to stay while they’re making it safe again” Wilbur sighed as he heard Tommy moving on the other side of his mic. Techno wondered what he was doing. 

“We would have invited you, had we known that we’d all be in the same place Toms” 

Phil took over, giving Wilbur a little sympathetic smile. The brunette so obviously felt guilty about the situation. 

“But when we got the call from Tech’ it was past 3 in the morning and it was tipping it down with snow, as soon as we got home we all slept. We decided to do a stream this morning but never once did we intend to try and make you feel like you aren’t welcome with us” 

Finally it was Techno’s turn to talk...Fuck.

He wasn’t exactly the most sentimental guy, he struggled to show his emotions and he just assumed everyone he cared for just knew that he cared for them. He rarely had to say it out loud. God okay. He just had to swallow his pride and go for it. 

“Tommy you are a sleepy boy and you are our brother. We did kind of a dick move today and if I was you I’d probably be upset too. I know I didn't like seeing you guys playing without me during MCC and that wasn’t even any of our decisions. We should have called you or something. I know I kinda tease you a lot but that’s just how I show I like people. Listen Tommy if I didn’t care about you I wouldn’t be comfortable enough to make those kinds of jokes with you. It’s not funny if it’s hurting you though..”

Techno bit his lip, this wasn’t as hard as he had anticipated but it was coming out like word vomit. 

“You’re young Tommy but you’re so talented. We love you”

There was some more rustling, it sounded like Tommy was wiping his eyes. Maybe the boy had expected a yelling match, only for it to turn out to be very emotional. 

“I love you guys too.. If you ever exclude me ever again though I’m getting my vlog knife out”

[2ndaryreactsandscenarios]

ATEEZ Reaction to: Better Off Without Me PART 1

In a standard reaction of this blog by this point, you begin to avoid the members because you think that you are a burden to them. Everyone, let’s have confidence and believe in ourselves, okay?

Now then, let’s begin.

Hongjoong (“Authority” of Loveable Gremlins, Amazing Leader, Killer Rapper)

So, I think that Hongjoong would kind of treat it jokingly at first. It wouldn’t hit him that you are avoiding him until quite some time has passed. When you had rejected and dodged every possibility of hanging out with him is when he would finally start to wonder if something was wrong. I feel like Hongjoong wouldn’t catch on and would need to either be given enough evidence or he would need to be directly told. He would trust you had your reasons until he saw you hanging out with other friends. It is under this circumstance that he would probably start to get very upset over it. Thus leading to an inevitable confrontation.

“I wanted to be patient and understanding, and I wanted to trust that you needed time alone. But you were hanging out with other people despite saying you needed to be alone. Please tell me what I did that made you not want to be around me. I’ll be patient and listen, but I am pretty hurt right now.”

Seonghwa (Caring Charismatic, Absolute Vocal)

Seonghwa would notice relatively early on, but he wouldn’t say anything. He didn’t want to put you on the spot or make you uncomfortable. If something was bothering you, he was hoping you would be comfortable enough to bring it up to him. Seonghwa would be patient throughout this period and would seem rather unbothered by this, always texting you that he understood you were busy or whatever excuse you gave him. It was when he saw you with another member crying that he would no longer be so patient and understanding. 

He would go up to you both and ask you what happened. When you avoided him again is when his patience and understanding would run dry. He would turn to the member and ask if they could give you both space to talk, which the member gave out (because they are afraid of an angry Seonghwa).

“Can you please tell me what in the world is going on with you? I’ve thought about giving you space and waiting for you to come around. And now I see you with another member and it is in tears? Was it something they said or did? Was it something… I did? Please talk to me.”

Yunho (Dance Machine, Bubbly Sweetheart, Always Game Winner)

Such a sweetheart that I don’t think he would be mad at you at all. Just genuinely concerned about you and missing you. He understood that people need space sometimes, and even great friends like you can get sick of each other and need a break. When several days had passed and several hang out plans had been cancelled is when he would start to wonder if it was something he did. On the surface, he would wear a smile, but on the inside he would be worried pretty sick. It was then that he would start to lose sleep and get a bit cranky with the members. And as life would work he would wind up getting pretty sick. News of him being sick would reach you, and you would be worried about him. You would stop by when you thought he was asleep and leave him medicine and food. He would catch you before you get a chance to get far from his place. He would be super sick but still chase after you. You would tell him to go back and rest.

“No… Not until you talk to me. I just want you to talk to me. For a minute. Just one minute please?”

Yeosang (Silent then Deadly, Hidden Move Maker, with a Side of Sassy Salt)

Honestly, I feel like Yeosang is patient until he isn’t anymore. He would wonder if he said something that went a bit too far or if he crossed the line with a joke while hanging out. He would be so sure that this was the case that he would text you an apology if he said something. You would tell him that this wasn’t the case and that you were just “busy”. Yeosang would know that it wasn’t the truth that you were busy, but he didn’t know what else could be wrong if you weren’t upset by something he said.

Another member to get upset when he sees you out with a fellow member. He would cut into the hangout you were having with the member. He would apologize to the member and ask if he could take you away for a bit. The member agreed and left you two to yourselves.

“Hi. So I guess you aren’t busy anymore. Then, let’s talk a little. You may not be able to tell, but I am pretty upset right now. So I need to hear your reason: why are you avoiding and what did I do? Please. Just please can you talk to me?”

San (Incredible Dancing, Soul Filled Performance)

Don’t do this to San. He would be so hurt by it. Would totally put on a smile and act like everything is okay even though everything's not okay. He would try really hard to not pry and ask you what is wrong, but the idea that he may have done something to ruin a friendship he cherished was killing him. 

Now I am recycling the cliche and he would see you hanging out with another member. The difference here is that San wouldn’t interrupt you two hanging out. It would make him feel ten times worse though. He would ask the member what was up and why you two hung out, and when the member shrugged him off and said it was just a simple hang out, San would be so sad. When he saw you hanging out with the member again (this time outside the front of the dorm) he would walk over to you and drag you away from the member with not so much a glance at either of you. When you asked him what was wrong he would stop walking and let go of your hand. He wouldn’t look at you, but he would speak.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

Mingi (Getting Groovy, Rapping with Feels, A Game Hole)

Nah, I don’t think Mingi would accept this for long… or at all really. I foresee him telling you and himself for several days that this was all okay and that he was totally fine that you were not busy. However, it would take something simple, like seeing you out with a member or evidence (AKA social media posts or something) that you were alive and well that would make him lose the little sanity he was holding onto in this situation. You would be startled and surprised to see an upset Mingi knocking on your door.

“I know you are in there and I know you aren’t busy! Open the door! Please talk to me and hear me out!!!”

Wooyoung (Energetic Prankster, Also A Game Hole)

I think Wooyoung would take this a lot more personally than you realize. When you all of a sudden had no time to hang out with him and you claimed to be busy, he would be pretty bummed about it. When he heard that another member had hung out with you during this period, he would be left with questions. And when those questions were left unsolved is when he would start to blame himself for it. Thinking that he had too much energy or that somewhere down the line he had crossed a line. His thoughts would keep him up in the depths of the night, and it would lead him to come to your house one night super late.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t call or text you that I was coming. Though I don’t think you would have agreed anyway. Can we please talk about what’s been going on lately? I know it was something I did, but could you please tell me what I did so I can make it up to you? I don’t like this distance between us if I can be honest…”

Jongho (Apple Ripping, Powerhouse Vocal and “Innocent” Maknae)

Jongho has no time for your nonsense. After receiving several wimpy excuses as to why you couldn’t hang out, he would straight up text you and ask if you were avoiding him. Jongho is very to the point in this instance and he wouldn’t let you get away with avoiding him for more than several days (especially if you guys were hanging out all the time prior to this). If you had the guts to ignore his texts, he would purposely find you and confront you in a place that he knew you couldn’t avoid him. Something like showing up to your home or job or something like that. 

“Hey. Can we talk? I know you are busy, but I am really not okay with how things are going. So can you please just give me five minutes and can we please talk?”

Disclaimer: An important thing to note in regards to these reactions/scenarios is that none of them are based on how the members are in real life and are merely a depiction that fits the fiction (as I don’t know the members personally). These are meant to be lighthearted (aside from the angst that continues to rise on this blog) and I hope they are not being taken as pure fact or reality.

If you took the time to read this reaction, thank you so much for your time. Stay happy and healthy! Make yourself a magnificent morning/afternoon/evening/night whenever in time or whenever in the world you may be and I hope to see you all again soon. Bye bye~

[kiara-carrera]

“actually i’m…i’m really not okay.” + Leah for the comfort starters?

convinced you can somehow read my mind across the internet because you're always picking the best prompts for them like this allowed me to write a hc that's been living in my head since may anyways. i also wanna fight myself bc this is like 3 fucking thousand words and its super fucking sad idk why i did this to myself. 

content warning for parental abuse and a mention of alcoholism.

In the middle of the night, something brushed against her face. 

She was asleep on her side, some of her hair falling into her eyes, but it was swept aside, the feeling tickling her skin and it caused her to stir briefly. But her eyes stayed shut and she merely burrowed deeper into her pillow.

Leah had never been much of a light sleeper, but the feeling of her bed dipping next to her seemed to rouse her enough. 

It took her a moment to settle into waking, eyes fluttering and lips smacking together tiredly to combat the dryness of her mouth. A tiny yawn escaped her, her eyes doing their best to adjust to the darkness of her room, the only source of light being the sparse moonlight that trickled in through her window.

It was enough to make out the shape beside her.

Her heart nearly stopped at the sight of them sitting on her bed, arm pulling back towards itself. It felt like something out of a horror movie or perhaps the evening news with the headline of a teenager being stolen from their bedroom. Fear gripped at her with icy hands, eyes widening at the realization that someone was in her room with her.

Lips parted, she was a mere second away for screaming out for her father and brother before a shred of moonlight at just the right second highlighted the unruly blond hair of the intruder.

Pushing up on one shaky hand, she asked, “JJ?”

Leah’s sleep addled voice cut through the silence, a harsh and hurried whisper into the dark. If it truly was JJ sitting on her bed, the volume would need to be kept near silent — she wouldn’t put it past Jack Thompson to treat JJ like an actual intruder.

The voice that replied was unmistakably that of her boyfriend’s, a little tired and a little sheepish. “Hey baby.”

Relief flooded her body and she allowed herself to slump back down into her pillow, a quiet groan escaping her lips. “Jesus fucking Christ, JJ, I thought you were a serial killer. What the hell?”

She couldn’t really see the expression on his face, but she saw him look down at his hands. “Wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to see me at —” She paused, turning to squint at the alarm clock beside her bed, neon numbers vibrant in the dark. “Two am? How the hell did you even get in?”

“Window.” He jutted a thumb behind him in its direction as if to make his point. In an attempt at lighthearted conversation, he jokingly added, “You know, you should really lock that thing.”

Leah pulled a face, disbelief coating her features. Sleep was still mulling in her brain and she couldn’t for the life of her make sense of this situation. It wasn’t the first time JJ had ever snuck into her room. Even before they were dating, he’d mastered slipping in through her window often enough that he even knew which floorboards would creak loudly under his boots.

But the difference between then and now was that this was the first time he’d done it without warning. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d come unannounced like this. It had to have been months ago, when he’d shown up after —

Fuck.

Leah pushed herself back up on her elbow, a sense of unease washing over her as she squinted at her boyfriend in the dark. The last time he’d shown up unannounced in the middle of the night, it hadn’t been for a midnight make out session or because he’d randomly wanted to spend the night — he’d had a bruised cheek and a busted lip, compliments of his father.

He’d dripped blood on her floor by accident and she’d nearly woken up her brother while getting the first aid kit from the bathroom. She’d gotten a mini one from the dollar store the next day to keep in her dresser just in case.

Except, she didn’t want there to be a just in case. Didn’t want there to be a next time. She’d cleaned JJ up from multiple fights in her time as his best friend and now girlfriend, but nothing left her with a pit in her stomach like cleaning him up after his dad was through with him.

“You didn’t come here from the Chateau, did you?”

It was phrased as a question, but it was more of a statement. JJ shifted awkwardly in his spot beside her. Even if she could make out his expression in the dark, he wouldn’t look at her anyways.

“Lee ...” He trailed off, almost as if he wanted to ask her to drop it.

But he knew her and he knew she wouldn’t. “J, did you go back to your place tonight?”

A small noise of discontent escaped him, but he nodded his head.

“Got into it with my dad,” he finally admitted, letting out a chuckle. It was meant to play off the situation, but there wasn’t a single trace of humor in the bitter sound.

Despite how tired she felt, eyelids heavy enough to drag her back under, that single sentence seemed to wake her up just enough. She squinted at him in the dark, heart thumping a little quicker in her chest as she blindly reached for the lamp on her bedside table.

It switched on, bathing the room in a soft glow as Leah pushed herself up into a sitting position. She blinked a few times, letting the now lit room to come in to focus, a hand reaching up to try and rub the rest of the sleep from her eyes. 

Her gaze eventually landed on her boyfriend, looking uncomfortable as ever under her gaze. His hat was in his lap, hands wrung into it, while his hair looked like he’d raked his fingers through it anxiously a number of times on the way over. And his eyes, normally cheery and mischievous, looked almost hollow, a glossy sheen to the redness that surrounded the blue of his irises. 

He looked ... broken and Leah’s heart stuttered a bit at the dejected expression he wore.

She’d never considered herself violent or capable of truly hurting anyone, but it was moments like these where she swore she could put Luke Maybank six feet under if she put her mind to it.

Unless he drunk himself to death first.

JJ watched on quietly as she let her eyes trail across his face intently, no doubt scanning for new scrapes or bruises or split lips. A twinge of guilt flickered in his eyes, one that Leah ignored. She didn’t care if he felt like he was burdening her or that he felt bad knowing she was expecting him to be dripping blood on her floor like he had one too many times before.

She didn’t care about that, because all she wanted was to make sure he was okay.

Leah hated when he went home. She knew that JJ was too proud to spend every night at the Chateau and knew he thought he could handle himself on the off chance that he ran into his dad. Rarely, though, did that seem to be the case.

“It wasn’t like that,” JJ supplied, noticing the way her eyes strayed to his shirt, more than likely wondering if there were bruises littering the skin it covered. “He was too drunk to start anything physical. Probably would’ve tripped over himself before he got two feet.”

Leah nodded, though his admission didn’t do much to quell her nerves. She didn’t know much about Luke Maybank to start with, but something told her his words were probably as painful as his hits.

After a moment, once she decided that his face looked the way it had when she’d seen him yesterday, save for the frown and his bloodshot eyes, some of the tension in her shoulders relaxed. Not all of it, though, because her mind had already started jumping to the next possible idea of what exactly had happened in the Maybank home earlier that night.

“Do you ... do you wanna talk about it?” she asked gently, tucking her legs under her.

Getting JJ to open up was ... tricky. Leah had been around him long enough that she could clock his bad moods at the drop of a hat, could read most emotions swirling in his eyes like second nature.

Noticing something was wrong, that something was eating away at him, was easy. Getting him to verbalize it and let her in fully was the hard part. Even around the Pogues, around Leah, JJ held a certain level of walls up. Thoughts and secrets and the level of abuse at the hand of his father that he kept guarded for one reason or another. There were things that they knew, things that they found out on accident or because he’d hit his breaking point, but Leah wouldn’t be surprised if there was a whole slew of things she didn’t know.

Her heart clenched painfully at the thought, but it didn’t surprise her when JJ waved off her question.

“Nah, it's not a big deal,” JJ replied easily, brushing it off as he adjusted his position on her bed.

He forced another smile on his lips as he regarded her. It was one that almost looked genuine. Almost. It might have fooled someone who didn’t know him well into thinking that he was fine, someone who wouldn’t pick up on the way he was fidgeting with his rings or how he seemed incapable of looking her in the eye for more than a brief moment before glancing away. But Leah wasn’t just someone and she could pick up on his unease just as easily as she was taking her breaths.

Because Leah knew when JJ wasn’t okay. She always knew.

Treading lightly, like she was dealing with a deer who might spook, she said, “Well, it must have been if you came all this way here.”

Annoyance wrinkled his expression. Tossing his hat to the side, he asked, “Can’t a guy just stop by to see his girlfriend?”

“JJ, it’s two in the morning,” she told him seriously.

His frown deepened. She could see his jaw clench and he nodded his head a few times. “Yeah, okay, you know what, this was fucking stupid. I’ll just leave then if you’re gonna keep looking at me like that.”

She knew the that in question was the pity he was probably reading across her face. But the problem was that she didn’t pity him, she was worried for him, but JJ never seemed to know the difference between the two.

The sight of him getting up and turning to head back towards her window had Leah lurching forward, hand circling around his wrist. “Hey, hey,” she whispered, giving his arm a tug. “No, J, don’t leave, please, c’mon.”

At her pleading tone, he halted, a sigh escaping him. It took another moment before he was sitting back down, a frown still etched on his face.

Leah’s hand slipped from his wrist and she longed to twine their fingers together but she didn’t in favor of scooting a little closer to him on her bed. She tilted her head a bit, trying her best to get eye contact with him.

He finally sighed and looked up at her, another sigh slipping past his lips. “Lee ...”

“Look, I’m not trying to push it, okay?” She bit her lip, thinking over her next words carefully. She didn’t know how many times she could successfully talk him out of leaving tonight. “I just ... I get worried. If you really don’t wanna talk, we don’t have to. We can just go to sleep and leave it, but I need you to know that I will listen if you wanna talk. You came all this way here and it’s so late and I know —”

“I just wanted to see you,” he repeated, cutting her off. There was no edge to his voice. Instead it was softer, a tone that suggested there was more to it. Unconvincingly, he added, “I’m fine, Lee.”

A shaky breath left Leah’s lips, tears beginning to sting at the back of her eyes. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Her words sat in the air for a few moments. Or maybe it was minutes. JJ was watching her intensely and Leah could almost see the legions of thoughts bouncing around his head at her statement. His eyes were glassier than ever, tears brimming along the edges. He chewed on his lip anxiously and Leah could do nothing but wait for him to make the next move. 

When he did, she was certain her heart broke.

“Actually I’m ...” JJ’s voice was thick with emotion and his breath hitched in his throat as his bravado began cracking under her thoughtful gaze. He couldn’t meet her eyes again when he choked out, “I’m really not okay.”

The first tear betrayed him, dripping down his cheek and disappearing somewhere on his shirt.

“Oh, JJ,” Leah whispered, her soft voice, laced with unmeasurable concern, nailing the coffin shut.

Within seconds, tears began streaming down his face as the dam finally broke.

Leah was quick to shuffle across her bed, the last bits of sleepiness washing off her like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over her head. Her arms were curling around him tightly, pulling him into her as the first sob racked through his body. His face was pressed into her neck, the collar of her shirt dampening with his tears.

He was mumbling into her, words muffled by her skin and her shirt, fragmented by the sobs that snuck through. She could only make out pieces, the words hate it and hate him and sorry repeating more times than she could count.

“I’ve got you,” she mumbled into his hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ve got you.”

His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her even closer, impossibly close, like he didn’t think she’d stay with him.

But there was nowhere else she’d ever dream of being, not when he was like this.

This wasn’t the first time Leah had seen JJ cry. While he always tried to hold up a devil may care attitude, the wild Pogue image, the view of a kid from the Cut with no worries besides keggers and weed, there were times where he’d hit his breaking point in the past. She’d seen it before, seen the facade shatter like glass against the floor. There was only so long he could go on being strong, feelings bottled up inside him like a ticking time bomb, before he’d burst.

Another sob wracked through him, a quiet and painful noise buried into her neck.

“I just want it to stop,” he told her between hurried gulps of air. “I’m so fucking sick of it.”

Leah’s eyes squeezed shut and she ran a comforting hand through his hair. She told him, “I know, J, I know,” because what else was there for her to say? What else was there for her to do in moments like these?

Anger burned in Leah’s chest, a sudden hot feeling, akin to a pot left to boil over on the stove. It was seeping into her veins as she listened to his cries, 

Anger at the world, because it took people like JJ and put them through hell. He was sixteen. Sixteen fucking years old and this was the shit that he had to deal with. This was his reality. It was two in the goddamn morning and instead of being asleep in his own bed, safe and loved by his own fucking father, he was here in pieces because of him.

Anger at his father, for being such a useless sack of shit. Who did this to their child? Who could look at a kid like JJ and do nothing but tear them down until they started believing the lies being fed to them? Leah hated him, she’d decided that long ago. Hated him more than she’d ever hated anyone in her life and the feeling of JJ shuddering under her hands only seemed to make it run deeper.

And then there was the anger at herself, because she knew there wasn’t enough that she could do. She could patch up his wounds and hold him tight, could let him cry in her arms until he had nothing left to give, and it would never be enough. She couldn’t fix the world for him and there weren’t enough words in the world to describe how important he was, how special, how loved. His father’s words would always exist somewhere in the back of his mind and she wasn’t sure she knew how to combat them with ones of her own.

It pained her to think he’d believe any of it. To think he was worthless or going nowhere or a waste of space. She wasn’t sure exactly what Luke had said to him tonight, could only guess, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt, with every fiber of her goddamn being that they were lies. 

Leah knew JJ. She knew every reason that she loved him was because he was unapologetically him. He could be brash and impulsive and crude and he didn’t always say or do the right thing. But she also knew that when it came down to it, he was loyal and brave and selfless and better than anyone on this goddamn island. He deserved the goddamn world. He deserved a mansion on the Eight with a koi pond and a ridiculous marble statue or Yucatán and lobsters and surfing all day and whatever else he wanted and it was because he was better than the world gave him credit for.

Tears of her own were pooling in her eyes, steadily dripping down her face as she rested her chin against the top of his head. She knew in that moment that this, being here with him right now, letting him deal with this pain in whatever way he needed to, was all she could offer him. She knew it didn’t come close to what he needed, but she’d hold him as long as he wanted.

As he clutched at her like a lifeline, Leah held him a little bit tighter.

[thelazyhermits]

I suddenly felt like writing some Aoyama-focused TABF HCs, so here ya go! ^^

Aoyama took an interest in Fortune early on after finding out that she also suffered from painful drawbacks because of her Quirk. Feeling a sort of kinship toward her, Aoyama would often find himself observing her when in the same room as her.

As a result, he’s one of the students who’s really good at reading her. By that, I mean, he’s able to pick up little hints in her expression/posture that show how she’s feeling. 

Whenever he notices that Fortune seems troubled, Aoyama always tries to do something to cheer her up in his own special way like asking if she wants her nails painted or suggesting that she watch a movie with him or have a snack with him.

While Aoyama was more casual about observing Fortune at the beginning of the school year, that changed after the summer camp incident. After Fortune’s kidnapping, Aoyama began paying closer attention to her in hopes of being able to help her by looking out for her.

Because of the summer camp incident, Aoyama, along with Shouji and Tokoyami, knows about Fortune’s connection to Mumei. However, they all agreed not to tell any of their other classmates or to ask Fortune about it out of respect for her privacy. From their POV, it was the least they could do for failing to save her.

Because Aoyama is so observant, he figured out right away that Fortune’s relationship with Mumei wasn’t a good one. He could tell just from those few minutes of their interactions that Fortune went through a lot of pain at Mumei’s hands.

That’s why Aoyama felt so guilty about being too scared to try to help her. He hated that he allowed her to be taken by someone that he knew would hurt her. 

Aoyama still battles with that guilt even after Fortune’s return and having that talk with her. That’s why he’ll occasionally have nightmares about the summer camp incident much like the other boys who witnessed Fortune’s kidnapping.

After Fortune was rescued, Aoyama swore to himself that he wouldn’t allow something like that to happen again. He would become a proper hero who doesn’t cower in the face of danger. He would save Fortune if he ever saw her in peril.

So, after the summer camp incident, Aoyama becomes protective of Fortune and decides to look out for her the best way he knows how by using his observational skills.

Because of those skills and seeing Fortune’s interactions with Mumei, Aoyama picks up on the little things that normally only those who are familiar with her past would notice like when a topic makes her uncomfortable or it looks like she’s reliving a bad memory.

Normally, in those situations, either Midoriya, Bakugou, Todoroki, or Kirishima will get involved on Fortune’s behalf. However, if something like that happens when none of them are around, Aoyama will act instead. Since he’s so good at distracting people, his efforts are always successful.

If you’re wondering just what Aoyama thinks Fortune went through, he suspects that she was raised and abused by Mumei who he assumes has always been a villain.

Since he doesn’t know about Fortune’s natural knack of martial arts, Aoyama doesn’t have any suspicions about that. He just thinks she’s naturally talented. 

While he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious, Aoyama has no intention to ask Fortune about her past since he knows it’s not his business, and he doesn’t want to force her to talk about it since it’s clearly a painful subject for her.

He is curious about how Midoriya, Todoroki, Bakugou, and Kirishima found out, or at least, he wonders just how much those four know since from his observations it looks like they know a lot. He doesn’t bother asking them, though, since he knows they won’t answer since they too want to respect Fortune’s privacy.

I’ll finish this post with some more lighthearted HCs.

Fortune is one of the few people who’s willing to visit and hang out in Aoyama’s room. She’s fine with it as long as she has sunglasses lol 

Whenever they hang out in his room, it’s often for nail painting. However, sometimes they play otome games together.

While Todoroki is usually her go-to partner, sometimes she plays with Aoyama since he likes that kinda thing and because he’s so observant. With his help, she always does well since he always somehow knows what choices are the right ones.

Another thing they do when they hang out is have little French lessons where Aoyama teaches Fortune some of his favorite language. Thanks to him, she knows how to say a few phrases in French. Aoyama loves these lessons since it always makes him happy to hear the language he grew up listening to, especially since he can tell Fortune is really trying hard to learn whatever he teaches her.

At the start of the year, Aoyama always preferred that Fortune volunteer her tutoring services to him, but near the end of the year, he started willingly asking for her help. What he won’t admit is that he preferred to be asked since he would get nervous about being rejected if he asked for help instead.

Thanks to her, his grades steadily improve throughout the year. Although, I wouldn’t say his overall class rank changes. He doesn’t mind since he’s just happy that he’s making decent grades.

Lastly, Aoyama really likes that he never has to worry about being ignored when he’s with Fortune. Anytime he says something when she’s around, she always gives him her attention, and that makes him really happy. 

[nightwingshero]

❛❛ I’m sorry. I should have asked first, just… it reminded me of you. ❜❜

So...this got uh...kinda long. What was supposed to just start as a prompt ended up being a possible chapter in the future fic for my MCU OC, Camille. This is...rough, its my first time writing for MCU, so just warning you. But thank you for the prompt hun!

There were some things that never changed, things that were just universal no matter who or what you are. Things that people could bond over, connect with, and laugh or show empathy from experience. Standing on your feet for 12 plus hours was one of those things, especially when you wore flats that provided little to no support whatsoever. Which was, usually, the predicament I found myself in.

Huffing a bit from frustration and exhaustion, I slid the key in and unlocked the door, opening as relief flooded over me. There was nothing like coming home to a dark house with nothing but calm when you’ve been running around, helping people in distress all day. It wasn’t like it used to be, not when I worked at hospitals and clinics, and part of me was ready to trade in the suits and such for scrubs again. It was simpler then.

I pulled my messenger bag gently over my head as I dropped the keys in the bowl on my counter. Setting the bag in a bar stool near the island, I flipped the remaining lights on in the kitchen, slowly making my way to the den. Grabbing a remote, I quickly turned on some smooth music, something old and relaxing from my favorite playlist before my fingers found my climbing earrings. I sighed in relief when the weight of them lifted, leaving the lobes a bit sore and making me rub them as I placed the jewelry on an end table. In one swift move, I quickly kick my flats off and enjoy the black cool floor on my aching feet as they lightly smack against the wood as I walked in deeper, until the panel on the wall began to blink.

“Incoming call from Tony Stark.” The A.I. announced as I approached, reading the screen only for my fear to be confirmed. Looking out the huge windows, I glared at the small garden that had been recently added. The sinking in my gut was dread, I knew that, but I wasn’t sure if it was because of what happened just a month ago or if because of the long day I had; leaving me with almost zero energy and zero patience. So, I shut my eyes, take a deep breath, and count to ten before sealing my fate.

“Answer.”

It’s only a second before the bliss of being alone with my music is disrupted by his voice, a blue hologram of him with his hands clasped behind him making me step back a bit in shock. That’s new. “You know, I thought for sure that you would invite me to come with you to run off to Germany. Personally, I’m a bit offended, because it’s my house—"

“It’s actually Pepper’s house.” I corrected as I gathered myself, shaking off the surprise as I moved to the couch and shrugged off my cardigan. Tony walked with me, his image blurring out just a bit as he crossed in front of the dark television. “Her name is on the deed.”

“Technicalities.” He replied, his voice taking its natural dismissive tone. Tony turned to me quickly on is heel, his head immediately cocking to the side. “How is Germany?”

“A lot friendlier since the last time I was here.” It’s out of my mouth before I can stop it, and if I had any energy, I would attempt to smooth it over, but it was the lack thereof that caused the slip to begin with.

I look at him as I dropped the cardigan on the back of the couch, and his head hangs for a second before he sniffs—quickly raising his head and bouncing right back. “As long as you don’t get too fed up with the schnitzel.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I offered a light laugh, and even I can hear the fatigue with my own ears, but Tony says nothing, going on as if he didn’t notice and I’m thankful for it. The last thing I wanted was Tony Stark playing a mother hen and making us both uncomfortable. I frowned, however, and quickly checked my watch. “Are you in California or New York? It’s a bit late for you, isn’t it?”

“Right, you know I’m one to call it a night early. Must be the old age.” His hands come back around as he snaps his fingers, and a fist hitting an open palm as he fidgeted, giving the place another onceover. “I’ll pretend that’s concern and not you trying to brush me off.”

“Are you always this wishful in your thinking, Tony?”

“I don’t answer rhetorical questions.”

“That’s good; they’re not meant to be.” Crossing my arms, I tilted my head as I squinted at him. “Though that one wasn’t rhetorical.” His jaw ticks as he glances towards the windows—that start at the ceiling and don’t end until the floor…walls of glass. I wonder briefly if he can even see the garden, the beautiful sitting area Pepper wanted, if he can trace the lines of rain against the glass as it began to pour.

Clicking his tongue, his head whipped back around with a look on his face that I couldn’t exactly place. “I’ve been thinking, and I think I should propose to Pepper. What are your thoughts?”

“Um,” I blinked, a bit taken off guard by the turn of conversation. “You...were…aren’t you guys still on break?”

“You know, I’m thinking…something nice.” I frowned a bit, his tone seeming a bit distant as he rambled, as if he was distracted. “How would you do it if you were proposing to her?” he asked as he took a step closer.  

I raised my brow at him as I scoffed. “Would you want me to marry her for you, too?”

“No. Why, would you?” he squinted his eyes, turning his head a bit as he eyed me suspiciously. Taking in my deadpan expression, he quickly continued, pacing as he spoke. “Right. So, big grand gesture—"

“Not sure that’s the way to go. Remember the rabbit?” Tony winced a bit at the reminder and I sighed. “Or you can just take her to a nice place for dinner and do it a bit more privately.” A second or two went by before he shook his head.

“You know, I’m playing it out in my head—”

“For a few seconds?”

“And it’s not really working for me.”

Laughing, I nod lightly as I sit on the arm of the sofa. “Not enough AC/DC?”

“I need something a bit…bigger.” He mumbled as he began to fidget with something on his side, the sounds of clattering on a workbench adding to the music that was playing. “Fireworks. Put that on the list.”

“Fireworks, got it.” It made me happy, seeing him a bit more lighthearted, but I knew there was something just underneath. He wasn’t one to call for no reason. So I make the decision to take the first step. “Why are you calling, Tony?”

Another click of his tongue, more glances around, and I’m not sure if it’s the room he’s in that he’s watching or mine, but his hand comes up to his face as the other arm crosses over his chest. “I’ve been busy.”

“Do I have to guess? Is this going to be a ‘two truths and a lie’ scenario?” I asked jokingly, but he ignores me as he continues.

“I’ve been keeping out of trouble—”

“Lie. You made that easy.”

“Also been training the kid.”

I hummed, nodding a bit. “Okay, truth. How is he?”

“We’ve been working directly—”

“Lie.”

Tony sighed as he looked at me, but he was only met with a raised brow. “Happy has been communicating with him since the Accords. He wants to be an Avenger, wants something bigger, thinks he’s ready for it.” It grows a bit quieter between us as Sinatra begins to play in the background, but it’s not the peace I had before. Not when there’s weight in my chest.

“Are you going to let him?”

“What team?” Tony muttered, and I could hear it still. The bitterness, the hurt. I only look down, picking at the pastel pink fingernail polish that was beginning to chip at the edges. “No. There’s no team to invite him to.”

“That’s not true, Tony.” I sighed, glancing up at him with a soft expression. “There’s…there’s still something. What’s the real reason?”

“My phone keeps blinking.” He replied with a hint of frustration in his voice as the conversation takes another turn, his hands disappearing in his pockets. Another turn on his heels, as if the conversation was just following his step, and if the music wasn’t playing, I would bet anything that I would’ve been able to hear the slap of his expensive shoes against the floor on his side of the call. “Ross keeps calling, you know? I keep putting him on hold.”

There’s a prickling feeling on the back of my neck that’s accompanied with a shiver down my spine. Dangerous waters, that’s where we’re headed, and its so damn obvious, I should have seen it. Because that’s how Tony always talked in situations such as these. Always a bit misleading to others but him, because they’re points he’s making before he gets to the core of the issue.

“You’re not answering him?”

“Rayna isn’t cooperating.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it, and maybe back then, he’d be more urgent, more upset, but he’s not. He’s neutral, and there could have been a micro version of a shrug and smile if my eyes weren’t so fooled by the dim lights. “It’s Rayna. Of course she isn’t cooperating, there’s nothing to cooperate with. Asgardians aren’t exactly ones to quickly bow to demands, you really think Thor would sign? She’s not an Avenger, Tony. She says it all the time. Ross has nothing he can say—”

“He wants her to sign—”

“No.” It sounded firmer than I intended, but again, that’s the fatigue. Or maybe it isn’t, who was to say? “Not this again. Tony, don’t make her sign. I’m not losing someone else—”

“Bigger picture.” His hands go wide again as he takes a step back. “She’s working with Vision, helping track the Quinjet. Which, by the way,” Another turn, almost a spin as he looked over his shoulder and pointed at me. “Has stopped traveling. She believes he may have crash landed somewhere. If he didn’t jump out.” Tony sighed, and that was when I gauged the stress level, and it’s confirmed as he rubs his eyes. “He wants an Asgardian, someone on the team because Point Break is surfing his way…wherever.” He turned, and at that point he was making me dizzy. I wished he would just stand still. “He’s always on my phone and I can’t make the blinking stop—”

“Because you can’t figure out how to answer a phone—?”

“Because he wants Rayna to sign, and she claims she’s not part of the team. He wants her on the team, though, there’s no backing out of that one. It’s like a recruiting campaign,” he waves is hand, as if envisioning it there, “‘Please join’, in big bold letters. Because we’re short on members last I checked and yesterday, everyone in the Prison of Azkaban was busted free. You hear about that, by the way?” I did. I remembered the breaking news as they announced how dangerous enhanced humans escaped, calling them and Captain America fugitives, and how it was still dominating headlines as the search continued. Most wanted. Tony didn’t give me the chance to answer as he continued. “He wants her to commit to it, wants the extra protection, manpower so-to-speak, since we’re already down a Hulk and Asgardian god…and because he wants you back at the compound.” He finished. I frowned as I glanced down. It was hard for me to be there after everything that had happened at the airport. A month, that was what I was able to get before I was being called back. It was only a matter of time, and I knew that. I was just hoping that I would be more prepared when it did. “And I do, too.” Tony added.

Glancing up at him, I watched as he pointed in the general direction of the coffee table where my tablet laid dark. “Rayna…is going to do what she wants regardless of what Ross wants. She didn’t take a stance a month ago, that hasn’t changed. It would be entertaining to see Ross try and force her, Tony.” I replied as I reached for the device, waking it and putting in my password as Tony worked on his end. “But I’m assuming you need me for something else, then.” I added, my eyes shifting back to him as Tony seemed to weigh my words before he finally spoke, his voice light and smooth as usual.

“I’m sending you schematics.”

Sure enough, his data and plans were popping up in front of me in seconds. He was unusually quiet as I scrolled through, trying to make sense of what was in front of me. But piece by piece, it began to click slowly, and I shook my head in tired frustration. “I can’t read this—”

“It’s fine, just look at the pictures. That’s the fun part.”

“Tony, I’m not an engineer, I’m a doctor—” I replied as I looked back at him. He stepped forward, a more serious glint in his eye.

“A doctor that’s going to help me evolve medical technology.” Pointing at the tablet, he continued. “Those are the plans for Rhodey’s leg braces.” My eyes widened, and I glanced back down to study them more closely. “Imagine offering top notch, advanced technology to help people walk again. We take that, develop it—”

“It would change lives.” I murmured. “Not just…imagine the things this could apply to if we built on it, expanded the field.”

“That’s the idea.” Tony clapped his hands together, making me jump a bit. “But my Rhodey first. How fast can you get here?”

I frowned as I looked up at him. “Tony, he has doctors there that can help you—”

“It’s finished, Camille.” He cut me off. “I have a prototype and I want someone here that I can trust to help me with this.” The words throw me off a bit as I took him in, and I knew deep down that he was searching for someone to trust, someone to help him…someone to fill the void that Steve secretly left. Sighing, I nod slowly.

“I can look for flights in the morning.”

“No need, I’ll send a jet. Tomorrow afternoon work for you? Great.” And without another word, he disappeared as the line ended, the music the only sound in the room. The tips of my fingers tap against the cool tablet in my hands, contemplating a bit before gently placing next to my earrings on the end table. It became irritating when I realized that the music was no longer enough, and needing something more, I flipped the tv on, the news immediately flashing on—blue headlines going on and on about the things that were happening.

I was about to lay on the couch, settling for perhaps sleeping there instead of dragging myself to the bedroom when I saw it. Frowning, I see the way the lights from the tv reflected against something wet against the floor. My feet protest as I rise, walking towards it as my arms cross against my chest. A drop from the rain is the first thing that comes to mind to try to rationalize, to explain it, even though I know it didn’t start until after I had come in—I had just missed it. Looking up, my head tilts back to eye the ceiling as I walk closer, searching for a sign of leaking, the thought ridiculous to me with it being so new, but stranger things have happened.

When it seems clean, I glanced back down and stop in my tracks as I get a better view. The shade kept changing with the light of the tv, but it settled on purple as the blue shone bright on my screen, and my stomach sank. Everything else is forgotten, trained and ingrained instincts are quick to kick in, and I began to follow the trail, my weight shifting to the balls of my feet—never making a sound. Once I begin to pass it, I grabbed the closest thing I could use as a weapon, an oddly curved lamp that was heavier than expected, and I raise it in preparation.

The trail was easy to follow, even if some drops were lighter than others, and part of me was annoyed that while the clean up seemed to be minimal, it would still be a nuisance. Another thing that I didn’t really have the energy for, including the potential break in I was facing. My heart raced, knowing that I wasn’t here alone, immediately hating every horror movie I even remotely enjoyed. This was not entertaining; this was not a thrill I cared to chase. I had just wanted to maybe enjoy a glass of wine before going to sleep. That’s all I had wanted when I pulled into the driveway. I would trade to be back at the Avengers compound instead of dealing with a potential Michael Myers.

It was the study. That was where the trail led me, and I could even see a dim light shining a bit. Swallowing, I count slowly to myself, remembering everything I could about my training. Yes, S.H.I.E.L.D. was gone. Yes, I was mostly doing doctor things now. But I reminded myself how well matched I was against Natasha, how I had even put Steve on his ass once or twice. And I could hear Rayna already insisting that I should just do it—get it over with. A rush of air escapes as I let out a heavy exhale and slam against the door, finding it only gently closed, and raise the lamp higher, ready to attack the first person I laid my hands on.

A hand quickly grabs my wrist, gently stopping me as I stumbled, my eyes going wide as I quickly scan the room. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to smile or grimace, but his face twists a bit either way as he waves lazily as Naomi kneels next to him, her watching me closely. Eyeing the wings that seem to be sparking, the books, pens, the computer, and other things knocked to the ground, including the lamp on the desk. Huffing, I pulled my arm away from Natasha’s grasp and narrow my eyes at Sam as the adrenaline starts to settle.

“What the hell?” I breathed out, looking around to find that they weren’t alone. It hurt, the way my heart squeezed as his blue eyes caught my green ones, the way they just locked and refused to leave. But I blinked, forced myself to focus, because we were in Tony and Pepper’s house and the last time I checked, they were still fugitives.

“Hey there, short stuff.” Sam forced out, an attempt of any kind of humor is lost within the pain in his voice. “Long time, no see.”

“Sure is one hell of a way to greet somebody.” Naomi added as she eyed the lamp.

I turned to Natasha, bewilderment still apparent on my face. “Explain? Please?”

“We need your help.” She replied as she eyed me carefully. “Sam got injured during—”

“The escape?” I breathed out as my arms fell to my sides, the lamp slipping through my fingers. “And you’re here—”

“We didn’t have anywhere else to go.” His strong voice cut through and pulling my attention back. It was something I couldn’t never quite describe, his voice. Always commanding attention, oozing authority, making you want to follow him to ends of the Earth, and still be so soft and compassionate altogether. Or perhaps that was just my warped view, a point that was brought to my attention by Vision once, because I put Steve on such a high pedestal. Steve continued, his tone a bit softer. “We didn’t have anyone else to ask.”

I swallowed, mostly because my mouth was dry, but also because I was so close to word vomiting—things that were left unsaid, things I’ve been regretting saying in the first place, or just maybe not wording it differently. It goes unsaid from Sam, but even I could hear a sarcastic remark hanging in the silence between all of us, his tongue being held. I couldn’t tell who silenced it: Steve or Natasha.

My eyes drift back to Sam, looking over him and seeing the blood dripping from his fingers as he held his side. “What happened?”

“Took a bit of a hit.” Sam shrugged. “You should see the other guy.”

“I see the carpet you’re bleeding on.” Out of the corner of my eye I could see a little quirk of Nat’s lips, a smirk playing dangerously as I stepped forward. “You know this…”

“You could get in trouble for helping us, I know.” Steve stepped around the desk, coming closer, and my heart almost jumped to my throat. “I don’t feel good about asking this of you, but when I said—”

“You’re fugitives, Steve.” I replied, looking up at him, searching his eyes and finding the hint of green there. “There’s no one else that can do this…I’m sorry for that.”

I’m sorry for not choosing you.

It’s on the tip of my tongue, but not even fatigue would let me be that loose-lipped. Some things were better left unsaid, timing had a way of determining that. But he offered a small smile, nothing happy but more empathetic, more understanding, and maybe he was sorry too.

“So?” Naomi asked with her arms crossed as she stood. “You gonna fix him or not?”

I turned back to Sam with a sigh, eyeing him up and down with the knowledge that my night of taking care of people wasn’t at all over. “I’ll need you to go to the bathroom so I can fix you there. You’re going to need stiches.”

“Do the glowy-hand thing, I won’t have to move.” Sam insisted, a hint of a whine in his voice and I rolled my eyes.

“And I’m exhausted, you’re going to need help. Plus, you’re getting blood all over the carpet. Pepper is going to kill me. So, bathroom. Now.” His eyes widened a bit as he muttered to himself, a bit shocked by my urgency, and I could hear the tiniest of laughs escaping from Natasha. Naomi even smirked a bit. I couldn’t help it, honestly. When you worked in the ER, in war zones, places where you had to put your foot down…it just slipped out in times like these. Plus, the lack of sleep didn’t help at all.

Steve quickly stepped forward, wrapping Sam’s arm around his neck as he lifted, helping him before I had the chance to. He glanced at me as I stared, watching him support Sam as if he weighed nothing, and a beat goes by before I realized that they’re waiting for me to show them the way. Avoiding Nat’s knowing smirk, I hurried out of the room, Steve quick on my heels as I lead him to the master bath. It was big enough to allow me to work—honestly it was bigger than my own kitchen in Brooklyn, which I found unnecessary. But of course, most things with Tony were.

Flipping the lights on, I gesture towards the vanity stool as I began searching for the first aid kit. Grunted in pain as Steve sat him down as I dug through underneath the cabinet. “Take the armor off so I have better access to the wound. Has it began clotting at all?” I asked as I pulled out a bag, unzipping it and checking the contents to make sure everything was there.

“Well…” Sam forced out as Steve helped in removing the wings. “That’s a good question. Haven’t exactly looked at it. Just wrapped it.” Wincing, he pulled off the top layer, revealing a t shirt beneath, dry and wet blood caked onto the ripped part of the side.

“You haven’t changed the bandage?” I asked, bewildered. When neither of them answer, I sighed again and glanced at Steve. “There’s some food in the kitchen, help yourselves. I’m sure you’re all hungry. I’ll get Sam taken care of.”

My heart leaps when he places his hand on my shoulder, giving a squeeze. “Thank you.”

“Hey, you better save me some!” Sam called after the Captain’s back. “Super soldiers can eat, don’t let the whole ‘super-hot bod’ thing fool you.” He added after Steve left the door cracked, disappearing into the rest of the house.

The wound could have been worse, in all honesty. Some of the blood was clotted and dried for the most part, but I did my best with cleaning it. A string of curses and him jumping was what I was met with as I continued, and I thought that it would only get worse when I began stitching him. It didn’t though, however, and it shocked me a bit how he seemed calmer as the needle pierced through his skin. “You sure you can’t make your hands do the glow thing?” he asked, his voice a bit strained. I glanced up at him only briefly before focusing on the task at hand.

“I can’t, unfortunately.” Tugging the thread through, I pull it tight and bring the needle around, pushing it back into his skin. “Every time I use it, it takes a toll on me, drains me of my energy, or at least that’s what Rayna and Vis say. I have to be on top of my game for it. Something I’m not really in the condition to be doing at the moment. I’m sorry, but I’ve had a long day and the energy I would need is gone.”

“Well, we’re known for perfect timing.”

Part of me wants to laugh at his joke, the sarcastic comment coming out lightly despite the pain, but I don’t. I choose to focus on stitching him up instead, it’s easier than trying to create small talk around the weight of guilt I feel, or the elephant in the room that’s just waiting to be addressed. The fresh blood began to cover the gloves I had slipped on, the blue turning a dark red, hints of purple here and there. I had never been as put-off by blood as I was now, his blood on my hands…it only made me feel worse. It reminded me of what happened at the airport, how I felt partially responsible for it, and the blood was on my hands just like the others. Blood of friends. I had to quickly shove down the image of Rhodes as I finished up, pulling gauze and tape out of the bag before wrapping it for him.

“All done. Need help getting up?” I asked as I stood, carefully taking the latex gloves off and he nodded. Throwing the gloves in the trash, I offered my hand and used my weight as leverage as he staggered to his feet. As he moved, I wished I hadn’t sent Steve away so hastily, not thinking that maybe Sam would need help walking. I stepped forward, my hands reaching out to catch him. “Hold on—”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. Thinks that just because he’s a super soldier, the rest of us break easily.” Sam waved me off with a breathless laugh. “Still on my left though.” He smirked as he pointed down, gesturing to his injury. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“I’m sure he’s already said it.” I smiled as I walked with him, matching his slower pace as he tried to be mindful of his new stitches. “And if he hasn’t, he won’t forget to mention it now that you’re not bleeding all over the place.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty hard to ignore.”

I smiled a bit as I stayed near, just in case he needed my help, but he seemed to be doing fine on his own. It was weird being in their company again, mostly because it seemed more like a blast from the past, like going home for the first time after being gone for some time. Almost like when I went to visit my parents, returning to something that felt so naturally like home. It’s odd to me that this shouldn’t feel like this, that we’re all technically enemies by government standards. It makes my heart tug painfully as we enter the kitchen.

Steve was sitting at the island, in the stool next to my bag as Nat dug through the fridge. Sam opts for sitting at the small table to the far right and joining Naomi, not bothering to attempt to hoist himself into a barstool, which I’m thankful for. The last thing I wanted was to fix his stitches. I sighed, looking around as they looked at me, Natasha just glancing over her shoulder as she continued making…whatever it was she decided on. Shifting a bit under the weight of his gaze, I rubbed my arm as I spoke. “So, you guys can obviously use what you need—clean up, eat, what have you, but it’s only for the night. I’m…unfortunately, I won’t still be here after tomorrow afternoon—”

“We know.” Nat replied as she placed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut diagonally on plate in front of Steve, moving to do the same to Sam as she looked at me. “We got here just before you did, so we heard the call from Tony.”

“That’s…” Awkward. Creepy. Disturbing. Violating. “Great.” Clearing my throat, I continued. “I have to pack and clean up the study, so that nothing is really out of place. But help yourselves…just don’t tell anyone you’re here.”

Natasha turned, a smirk gracing her lips. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with us. Don’t wanna be a tattletale, do we?”

“Right.” I replied slowly, not really sure how to read the terrain of the situation.

“It’s fine.” Steve cut in, my eyes returning to his. “We don’t want to do anything to jeopardize you or cause issues.” Throwing Sam and Nat a look, he continued. “We’ll behave and we appreciate the help.”

“No problem. I just…” I glanced around the room awkwardly. “I wish it was on better terms. But please make yourselves at home.”

If there was anything else to be said, it was silenced as I turned on my heel and all but rushed out. I wouldn’t ever really call it hiding, but deep down, that was exactly what I was doing. Running from the situation and hiding from the confrontation with Steve. Things I wanted to avoid the best I could, because I didn’t know what to say or how to say it. The things that were left unsaid no longer applied, because those were words that could have saved the situation, could have saved our team, and now they were nothing but ‘what-if’s’, ghosts haunting me in the shadows when my mind would wander.

The bedroom felt safe as I walked around, pulling my bags from the closet and setting them on the bed. I’m thankful to have something to keep my hands busy that didn’t require me to get blood on them, something mundane and somewhat normal. I don’t keep track of what’s getting put in, just putting books, my makeup bag, and clothes on the bed to be sorted and packed neatly together, and it’s a ritual I was so caught up in that I nearly jump out of my skin when there’s a knock on the door.

Gasping a bit, I turned as I held a hoodie against my chest out of fear, as if it were armor or a shield, but I just see Steve leaning against the doorframe, his arm crossed—something he’s done a thousand times since I’ve known him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to see if you needed a hand before we headed out.”

“Oh.” I breathed out, not realizing I was holding it, and turned back to my bag as I continued folding the hoodie in my hands. “I think I got it but thank you. I didn’t pack too much. Wasn’t really planning on staying too long, if I’m being honest.”

“You’re always honest.” His voice was light, it’s the first telltale sign that it’s a joke, but it made me freeze for just a second anyway. Honest to a fault, truly, even when I shouldn’t. Steve sighed as he stepped next to me, his gaze cast down as I glanced at him. “Guess I should have done the same, huh?” I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out, so Steve just looked out the window across the room before continuing. “I sent Tony…well, I guess a letter won’t fix this, but…”

“It’s a start.” I finished for him as I tucked the hoodie in the bad, grabbing a shirt as I kept folding. “Sometimes just saying the things that you didn’t get the chance to can be freeing, Steve. You were honest in the end, and I think that counts as something.” I could feel his gaze on me, but I feign ignorance as I stuff the shirt in with a little bit more hast than necessary, but I wasn’t ready for the weight of his pretty blues. Not like this. He only hummed, his gaze shifting once more.

Movement caught my eye, however, as he reached for a book, and I believe it’s going to be just something that I used for mindless reading, but its not. The blood in veins ran cold as he eyed the journal in his hands, delicately opening it and leafing through the pages before coming to a stop at the last one that was written in. The handwriting is different, the doodles more sloppy and less skilled compared to the owner’s, I know this. But that’s not why I was so embarrassed, why my heart is hammering hard in my chest.

“I’m sorry.” The words fall gracelessly off my tongue as my heart hammered in my chest. “I should have asked first, just… it reminded me of you.” The explanation seemed to fall on deaf ears, however, because he doesn’t seem to acknowledge me as he reads.

“You created a list.” He finally speaks, his eyes remaining on the page. “The doodles are cute.”

Licking my lips, I turn more towards him, shifting my weight from one foot to another. “Yeah…just some things I think you could look into after…” After everything was fixed. My heart sunk with the unspoken words, the realization that my hope was fruitless weighing heavy in the air. “I’m really sorry, Steve. It wasn’t mine to take…and…” The snap of the book closing is louder and harsher to me only because I want it to be, but I know he’s careful as sets the book back down. The anger isn’t there, not like I imagined when I played this out so many times in my head, hoping he would come running to see me some sleepless nights.

When I finally gathered the courage to look up at him, I’m met with a small and soft smile—his most signature smile, if I was being honest. “It means a lot, thank you. I’ll start on it.”

The words felt so final, too final, and panic rose into my chest, accompanied with the fear that I won’t see him again, not anytime soon. As he took a step, I reached out and wrapping my arms around him, squeezing hard and wishing to never have to let him go. “Steve. I…” My voice breaks, my vision becoming blurry with unshed tears. With a deep inhale, I try to gather myself. “I’m sorry. About the Accords, about Bucky, everything.” His gaze is piercing and unwavering, and I swallow and try to force myself to continue. “I…wish that things were different. Had ended differently. I just miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” He replied softly, his arms hugging me tightly as he pressed his face in my hair.

“It’s not fair.” I mumbled as I buried my face against his chest. “I should have taken your side, Steve, and stood by you.”

“You did what you thought was right.” The compassion and softness in his voice shocked me, and I feel it’s something I don’t deserve. “I won’t hold that against you.”

“I didn’t want this. This isn’t at all what I had signed up for, even though I should have known it would come to this. I thought this was the bigger picture, what was right for all of us. I didn’t realize what it would cost. They drew the line in the sand, and I caved.”

“Well, you’re excellent at trying to stay to the sidelines.” He laughed, making me smile genuinely for the first time in weeks. His fingers gently brushed my hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “There was no winning for any of us, Camille. Not with us divided.”

I swallowed, leaning back a bit to look up at him, hints of sadness in his eyes. It wasn’t something alien to me, it was something I saw often when I first saw him after waking from the ice. The loss and regret, and I knew deep in my bones what was happening. Licking my lips, I fingered parts of his uniform as I spoke. “What if…what if we didn’t have to be?” I asked, looking up at him from under my lashes as I tested the waters. His brows furrowed in confusion, so I continued. “Divided, I mean. What if we didn’t have to be, Steve? What if…what if I went with you? What if I wasn’t here when Happy came for me tomorrow?” My voice was soft, so soft, but it felt like it rang out loudly in the silent room. His face molded, reformed into something sadder, something with soft regret.

“You know I can’t let you do that.” How could a whisper hit so hard? Feel so final and unwavering? “Not with what you and Tony are doing. Not with what you’re going to accomplish.”

“Steve—” I went to protest but he looked down, holding my hands in his as he rubbed his thumb against my skin.

“Can you say that it wouldn’t weigh on you? Knowing that you could help all of those people and deciding to go on the run instead? Becoming a fugitive, where you wouldn’t be able to help anyone?” My mouth opened to say that I could, but nothing comes out as he looked back up at me. And just like that, my heart sank even lower, even as he offered the smallest of smiles. “He needs you, you know that. Someone’s gotta be there when he needs it, help him stay straight. He’s…lost enough people, Camille. The team is what’s left, and that team needs—”

“I’m not you.” I retorted, squeezing his hands. “I’m not leading, I’m—”

“There. Supporting and doing what you have to.”

“Steve?” My voice broke, just like my heart as I searched for any sign of hesitation, any hint of uncertainty, but I found none. It’s broken when Natasha called for him, announcing they should be leaving soon, and my panic only rose as he glanced out the door. The look on his face was something I didn’t want to see: resignation and acceptance. I shook my head slightly, because it wasn’t how I wanted this to happen. I didn’t want this to be our goodbye.

“I have to go.” He replied as he looked at me, but I couldn’t bear to return his gaze as I looked to the side. The rain had stopped, but the drops still slid gracefully down the glass of the window, creating trails and following lines laid before them—destined paths. “I left Tony a phone with the letter, just in case. If you need me…I’ll be there.” I tried to say something, truly I did, but I’m too in shock to say it. My tongue lays numb in my mouth, I couldn’t feel it, and in the corner of my eye I could see him raise a hand, only to hesitate and drop it. My eyes squeeze tightly shut as I feel the ghost of his lips in my hair, and tears finally fall again, and I could have sworn I had heard the murmur of ‘I love you’, but I couldn’t be sure. The ringing in my ears seemed to drown the world out.

The second he stepped away, cold air hits my body hard, making me aware of the warmth I have lost. I tried to breathe, tried to capture what was left of my control. A few moments go by until it hits me, the panic, the need to hug him one more time to tell him I loved him rushes over me. My head whipped around, my eyes widening. “Steve!” I called, parts of my throat stinging from the force of it and the lack of use. My heart hammered as I wait for a response, but there’s no answer, just silence.

“Steve, wait!” I called again as my body went into autopilot, demanding his warmth again, craving it. The tears are from my panic and the brokenness of my heart as I searched the dark house, my feet slapping loudly against wood, making it echo off the walls. The study is the first place I check, only to find everything back in place, the blood all gone. Sam’s wings are gone from the bathroom as I popped my head in, hoping to see proof that they were here, the traces would mean they weren’t really gone. That they were here. “Steve!” I cried as I entered the kitchen.

My bag laid innocently in the barstool; the dishes long gone from before. The tv and music still played, the earrings and tablet just as I left it. The only thing out of place was the journal, and I try to remember him taking it, and I come up empty handed—I guess I was so caught up in the moment to notice, too distracted by the whirlwind of emotions I was feeling. I approached the counter, noticing how a pen seemed to be trapped between the closed journal, a clear indicator. My fingers brushed against the edges carefully before I opened it, immediately falling to the page the pen laid on.

There was paper torn close to the spine, indicating a page had been ripped out as I lightly traced the uneven edges. It was then that I realized what was missing, and I didn’t know if it helped or made everything worse. Him taking the list, taking the things I had created as a reminder, it made me hope for his return and fear his absence even more. It was the note that was the end of me as I leaned against the counter for support, my fingers running along the ink on the paper. The memories were bittersweet, both making me smile and making my heart hurt, remembering him at my childhood home and showing him the collection that I had kept. Robert Frost. Edgar Allen Poe. Emily Dickenson. Even some of T.S Elliot. Books of poetry, lines underlined and highlighted—obvious signs of my favorite parts, the ones that spoke the most to me. And when he couldn’t sleep, he would read. And so, I read the lines, over and over as I stood there, the tips of my fingers running over every letter as if it were brail, giving me some hidden message. But there isn’t one, not really. This message was clear, and while it was a favorite of mine, him leaving it just for me created a deeper meaning, and I knew I wouldn’t be forgetting it anytime soon.

And fare thee weel, my only luve!

   And fare thee weel awhile!

And I will come again, my luve,

   Though it were ten thousand mile.

[lostinmysticfalls]

Faded Fantasy | Chapter 1

Pairing: Javier x Fem!Reader/OC, Javier x Helena (implied)

Summary:  Javier hasn’t been the same since Medellin. Watching Helena go through hell after everything she did for him messed him up more than he imagined. He’s always had a habit of fucking away the pain and using sex as an escape. But this time he’s really spiraling, and the end is nowhere in sight.  

Words: 2,497

Warnings: smut, alcohol, third-person POV, non canon compliant, emotional angst, consenting age-gap

A/N: This is gonna get dark and angsty because I refuse to believe that Javi was fine after what happened to Helena in 1x02. I have many, many feelings about those two, and this idea wouldn't leave me alone. Title comes from "My Favourite Faded Fantasy" by Damien Rice (if you haven't heard it, take a listen and prepare to be sad)

Read on AO3

Chapter 1 - Guilt

They weren’t all the same, even though Javier pretended like they were. The girls came and went freely, without strings attached, without commitment. But there was only one who had remained his constant. The one who he’d call up when he not only needed to relieve some stress but also when that pang of loneliness struck his chest late at night. 

There really were no rules for his interactions with her. Javier could be sweet and lighthearted or crude and dominant, he could be anything he wanted with her. He never told her but he even enjoyed the way in which she'd stake her claim on him whenever they were together, even if it was only for a couple short hours. Helena was unconditional and loyal to the point of even risking her own life for him. 

She had been unbreakable until that night.

In the deep confines of his mind he knew that she was important. That he cared about her more than any of the other girls. The way she used to laugh filled him with inexplicable warmth, and her ability to be careless and free filled him with a sense of wonderment he’d never really experienced with anyone else. She had a wild spirit that had remained pure despite the calamities and grim reality of the world around her. 

Helena was his favorite faded fantasy. One that he could have held on to forever had he not been too afraid to connect on a deeper level—always recoiling whenever the walls he’d built around would start to crumble. One he could've fiercely protected had he just done a better job at pulling her out of the grasps of evil in time. 

Javier couldn’t escape the thought of her.

Not even in his dreams.

She’s sitting in the back of an ambulance with a blanket wrapped around her, completely shattered. Not a trace of the girl he’d interacted with just a few days prior.

The pain in his chest is excruciating, his throat constricting into a knot as the oxygen leaves his lungs.

“Helena.” He says, looking at her with sorrowful eyes, just a ghost of the man he used to be. The guilt eating at him like acid eroding his entrails.

Her head is down, her blank stare is focused on the ground but her mind is somewhere else. She is unresponsive, taking shallow breaths, her chest barely rising as she trembles.

“Helena, perdóname. Perdóname por no haber llegado a tiempo.” He begs her, apologizing for letting her walk into the devil’s den unprotected. For not getting there in time to save her.

Javier jolted awake, like a man gasping for air as he's drowning. 

Sweat having dampened the sheets he’d been sleeping on, his heart racing like he'd just been sprinting up a flight of stairs. He was stuck in that period of time right after a nightmare, when your body is too deep in shock to even move. When all your senses are trying to realign themselves while your mind slowly adjusts to reality again. 

The minutes passed, his breathing gradually stabilizing.

Once the feelings of dread had subsided, he rolled over on the bed, reaching for the box of cigarettes on his nightstand. He lit one, then a second, and a third, until the sun started to come up and slowly began brightening his bedroom. 

Afraid to fall back asleep for fear of seeing her again.

* * * * *

It was late at night when the young woman tending the bar saw Javier walking in. The look on his face said he'd had a tough day at the office and the badge attached to the front of his jeans was practically screaming, get the fuck away from me. A people repellent if she’d ever seen one.

She smiled to herself, checking the shelf for the bottle of his favorite spirit. Javier had been there plenty of times before for her to know he liked his whiskey neat. Truth be told, she’d had her eye on him for a while. He was older, handsome and charming, and she was a weakling for his moody attitude and enigmatic smile. It didn’t take much for it to always pull her under. Not to mention, the low vibrations of his captivating voice made her center contract and quiver in inexplicable ways every time he spoke. 

She hadn’t stopped thinking about him since the first day she met him and she had decided tonight would be the night she’d muster up the courage to do more than just make brief mentions of the weather. 

Her gaze panned over him as he took a seat on the barstool, both elbows on the flat surface of the long wooden bar. 

“Good evening, Agent Peña.” She said, suggestively leaning toward him, the neckline of her shirt allowing a peek at her cleavage. “Rough day?”

Javier sighed. “Day, week, month… you name it.” 

Her laugh was melodic. “I think I got what you need." She winked. "Whiskey? Neat?” 

He nodded, rubbing his hand over his mouth and mustache as if impatient. Taking a note of how short her skirt was when she turned around and reached for the bottle on the top shelf. 

His brown eyes focused on her task, watching as she poured the reddish brown liquid into the glass. Her smile was brighter than usual, bedroom eyes peering at him behind her long eyelashes. Pushing the drink in his direction, she casually brushed her hand over his as he went to grab the glass. 

Javier took a sip, expecting her to walk away but to his surprise, she stuck around. 

“You ever drink with the customers?” He asked, compelled to make small talk.

She grinned. “Sometimes, when they buy.”

He gestured to the bottle. “I wouldn’t mind a drinking partner tonight.” He took a cigarette out of his inside pocket and placed it between his lips. 

It didn’t take much for her to oblige. She needed the liquid courage anyway if her plan to get him alone was going to come to fruition. 

Three drinks later and they had both loosened up quite a bit. Openly flirting with each other as they talked about trivial things and she expressed her gratitude for his hard work.

“You know, it’s not every day you get to meet a real life hero.” She said, touching his hand and letting it linger. Her fingers moving over his knuckles playfully. “Everyone in this bar should be paying for your drinks.” 

Javier cleared his throat, his whole demeanor changing, the lines on his forehead becoming more pronounced as he knitted his eyebrows together. “I’m not a fucking hero.” He scoffed. “Not even close.” 

It hadn’t been true for Helena. If he hadn’t put her in that situation she’d still be there and not tucked away in some convent in the middle of nowhere. He would probably be with her in that moment if things hadn’t gone awry. Instead, he was there, trying to drown his sorrows in whiskey and cigarettes. And yeah, maybe some pussy too. 

“Well, I find you to be a very impressive man.” She admitted. “I really admire your courage and everything you and your team are doing for this country.” 

His eyes trailed over her features. She had to have been at least a decade younger than him but there was no denying that she was very attractive. Did she look like her? Not in the slightest, but her interest in him kept him hooked. He had left the station with the intention of doing more than just having a drink but this hadn’t been the way he imagined the night going. Not that he was disappointed. 

“I just wish there was something I could do to show my appreciation.” She bit her lip, caressing his arm over the long sleeves of his jacket. 

The alcohol had certainly done its job at obliterating all inhibitions.

Javier grabbed her wrist, gently wrapping his fingers around it. “How old are you?”

“Old enough.” She said, glancing at his slightly parted lips. “I’m serving alcohol behind a bar, aren’t I?” 

He looked her up and down, the hum of his voice making her shiver. “You look like a nice girl.” 

She laughed. “I am a nice girl. But even nice girls do bad things every now and then.” The way Javier’s eyes grew darker with devious intent made her center throb and ache with want. “Do you like bad girls, Agent Peña?”

He smiled, looking away for a minute to think about what she was implying. If it wasn’t her that night, it’d be someone else. Javier was tired of the grief. He needed to feel something other than pain and numbness, and she had practically fallen on his lap without him even trying. 

She checked her watch. “Behind those doors,” she pointed to the tall double doors in the back of the bar, “Is an employee bathroom.” Her smile widened as she started to walk away. “I’ll be taking my break in ten minutes when the other bartender starts her shift.”

He watched as she went to tend to other awaiting customers, meanwhile finishing the last of his drink in peace. When he was done, he took out his wallet, leaving a few bills on the bar before checking to make sure he still had a condom stashed in there somewhere. 

* * * * *

Her lips were ravenous, kissing him desperately as she rubbed herself on him and ran her hands across his chest. The bathroom was filthy and uncomfortable, definitely not made for two bodies to move about at the same time. The light fixture on the wall was barely holding on, its yellow glow bouncing off the rusted mirror and dirty sink. Javier kept bumping into the wall, every time he tried to maneuver around her. 

“I have fifteen minutes.” She said, pushing him against the door and immediately undoing his pants. Only pulling them down to his thighs, just enough to have access to him.

Javier gaped at her as she took him in her hand. His dick wasn’t hard enough yet, something that was a bit unusual for him but that he’d attributed to the excessive amount of stress he was under and his lack of sleep. 

“I’m not quite ready—”

“That’s okay.” She purred as she went down on him. “I like to feel it grow in my mouth.” 

That admission alone made his cock twitch. With a lick of her lips, she began sucking him off. Enjoying the way his limp dick increased in size every time she took him in, and loving the way it hardened against the roof of her mouth with each twirl of her scorching tongue. The heat and suction of her mouth making it stiffen until his blood vessels were pounding against her lips. 

The slurping noises she was making were driving him mad. She licked him from his base all the way to his tip, sucking on his head as one hand gripped him and jerked him off. Her other hand playing with his rigid balls while she devoured every inch of him. 

“I want you to fuck my mouth.” She said, looking up at him with lustful eyes.

Javier didn't hesitate. He put his hands on her head, holding her still as he began thrusting his hips into her. Her hot, wet crevice felt so good he began pounding into it with more force. Over and over. His mind was finally occupied with something other than remorse and he willfully lost himself in the new feeling with each passing second.

It wasn’t until he looked down at her again and heard the sounds of her gagging that he finally stopped. Realizing that maybe he was being a little rougher than she’d wanted.

She sucked his cock a few more times and then wiped her mouth, getting up from the floor and leaning back against the sink.

Pulling up her skirt she moaned. “You want this?” 

Javier licked his lips. “Yes.” He muttered, yanking down her underwear. 

The sink space was barely big enough for her to recline against it, she used it mainly to steady to herself as she lifted up one leg and propped it against the wall next to her. 

He quickly slapped on the rubber, gliding his tip along her wet slit before delving between her entrance and filling her up. With one aggressive tug he pulled her shirt and bra down, the neckline stretching until her breasts were spilling out of it.

“Fuck.” She muttered. “You feel so fucking good.” 

Javier slammed into her, a hand grabbing one tit, not worrying about starting out slow or getting her warmed up first. He wanted to fuck her hard and senseless to the point of oblivion. Her hands clung to his shoulders, the bathroom mirror fogging up from their heavy breathing as the minutes ticked by.

Her little moans started to get out of hand, increasing in volume the longer he pound into her. 

“I’m gonna come.” She whimpered. 

“Shhh.” He said, putting a finger up to her lips. “Calladita.” Reminding her to keep quiet. 

He crashed into her again, his tip continuously making contact with her sweet spot until it was too much for her to handle. Moments later, his actions inevitably triggered her unraveling. Javier put his hand over her mouth in order to stifle her cries as she came undone.

He didn’t last much longer after that. When he was ready to finish, he pulled out of her. 

Something possessed him to pull off the condom, wanting the end to be as messy and dirty as the place in which he’d decided to fuck her. With one firm grip on his cock, he began pumping it furiously, reaching his climax in a matter of seconds. The ribbons of hot come spurt out of him, shooting all over the sink and splattering on the foggy mirror as he let out a few muffled grunts.

They both cleaned up fairly quickly, not saying much to each other after they were done.  

She haphazardly wiped the mirror down and splashed water on the sink before smoothing out her clothes and hastily fixing her hair.

“I’ll see you around?” Her voice was hushed as she opened the door, preparing to go back out to continue her shift.

Javier pursed his lips and gave her a weak nod. 

They both knew it wouldn’t happen. 

She smiled, knowing very well that this was a one-time, meaningless thing. She’d always been a sucker for his type. Men with too many issues to pursue anything serious but who knew exactly how to please a woman. It was nothing knew to her, she was used to the quick goodbyes and she didn't mind them.

As for Javier, he had already made up his mind the moment he agreed to the hookup, and there was no way in hell he’d be showing his face around there after that night. 

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Thank you so much for reading! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Please, let me know if you enjoyed this first chapter and I will do my best to update soon :) Tag list is open. 

[lightninghikari]

Proud

Pairing: Steven Stone/Wallace.

Rating: general audiences.

Summary: Steven Stone, heir of Devon, who had expectations put on him since the very day he was born… decides to come out to his father.

Author’s notes: This is a lil fic I’ve been saving all this time for Pride Month. Enjoy it!

Read in AO3

He took a deep breath, sighing afterward.

"You know, Steven?" His father stretched his arms, then allowing his hands to fall by his sides, over the bench, carelessly. "I can't remember the last time I relaxed on the beach like this."

"Yeah, here in Mossdeep is nice to..." then again, he sighed. "Chill a little."

"You should take me out of work more often," at the very least the man was enjoying himself. "Seriously. I can't remember the last time we hung out like this, it even feels like it had been years now."

Because it indeed had been years, Steven replied mentally.

In the middle of his restless thoughts, Steven paid attention to the fact that Joseph was right and they didn’t spend much time together anymore; which was crazy, considering that they were the only close family each other had. And for a moment, Steven got distracted by the realization that, taking his father for granted like that was no good, and that he should be taking every chance he had to spend the time with him and talk and reach out to him while he could.

Chances like… this one.

And once more, Steven felt the pit in his stomach, reminding him of why they were there to talk in the very first place. So, he let the first conversation topic to die down while trying to find the words to express what he needed to.

He sighed again.

"So, Steven," Joseph called his name with a patient tone. "What do you want to talk about? You said it was important and actually I've been aching to know what this matter is all about."

The anguish grew on his chest, as he shifted uncomfortably in his place. Steven had genuinely believed that he was ready to confront his dad already, yet there he was, stopping right on his tracks when he was explicitly requested to talk.

Ah… Steven had not a single clue of why he was so scared. He was a grown man already, independent, this shouldn’t even come out as a big deal. Besides, his dad was a good man, all of his own politeness he learned it from him. Yet, Steven believed somewhat there was a possibility to disappoint his father, to make him mad. After all, he was his only child, and his confession would mean a burden to all of the plans Mr. Stone had for him.

Nonetheless, he had postponed the whole matter a lot already. It was the moment to talk. Wallace was worth the shot.

"Well... it's just that..." He could barely elaborate. "Um, I mean, like..."

"Yes?"

"It’s… Like..." His head was already dizzy in shame. "Ah!"

Joseph chuckled, not quite amused, instead, very puzzled.

"Just go ahead.”

"It's something... um... hard to say, to put it down in some way," Steven spoke lowly, as if words would come easier that way.

“Okay, maybe try giving me a hint?”

Steven took a deep breath, “you could say, I…”

Was he going to say it so simply, just like that?

“Yes, Steven?”

This was terrible.

“Steven-”

And he growled, pulling his hair back with his hands in a clear sign of desperation, "Dad, please, don't get angry at me," he pleaded, finally giving in to his worries.

"You did something I should be mad about?"

"Kind of? I'm not sure..."

"Let's see," the older man said softly, getting a little more serious. "What happened?"

The pressure on his chest grew unbearable as his mind got foggier and foggier. For a moment Steven believed his mouth wouldn’t be able to keep producing words anymore and that he would have to run away from the scene.

"I..." point of no return, it was now or never. Steven shook his head and clenched his fists. "I'm... I'm dating someone".

The incredulous expression on Joseph's face was priceless. He remained quiet for a few seconds, then, he began to laugh in a lighthearted way, placing a hand in his chest rather relieved; which only thrilled Steven further, because what he was going to say wouldn’t be relieving at all.

"For Arceus' sake!" Joseph shook his head. "Is that what this whole tension is about? That my son’s got a new partner?"

Now his heart was pounding so desperately against his ribs that Steven truly believed he’d had an arrest.

"I know it sounds like something stupid and trivial!" He replied loudly, even furiously, unable to put up with the shame anymore. "But this is a serious matter and I'm sure that when I give you the details you're going to be at the very least a bit disappointed, to not say upset, and-”

"Why would I be upset?" Joseph answered, simply yet incredulous. "Wallace is a good man, I like him very much actually, you should already know that."

Oh?

Oh.

Steven felt his jaw dropping off its place as he gasped in surprise and his cheeks began to turn bright red.

How was it even possible that his father knew altogether that his new partner was in fact a male, and not any male, but Wallace?

Joseph laughed again, however, that time a little more nervously.

"W-What?" Steven started to stammer now, not even being able to keep visual contact. "H-How d-did you know?"

"I'm your father, I know you from the very day you were born, how I wasn't supposed to notice something like this?"

Ditching the whole parent intuition thing, Steven hurried to ask, "was I that obvious?"

"Sort of," he even gestured it with the hand. "When you first introduced us I didn’t really think it could be more than a friendship. But, one day, it only took me to watch how you looked at him as mesmerized as if he was a precious gem, and see how you giggled at every small thing he said, and how you couldn’t keep your hands off him, to know that you were completely and absolutely lovestruck. And Wallace… well. He wasn’t being quite subtle there, either; he’d say something very flirtatious to you for it to fly right over your head.”

Steven growled, covering his face, “how ludicrous…”

“I can’t blame him though. You are such a handsome man, no wonder why everyone throws themselves at you, a contest idol like him included.”

“D-Dad!” Steven whined. “This is so embarrassing!”

Shrugging, he chuckled, “to be fair, I didn't imagine you were dating now, but I was instead anticipating this talk to happen. I knew it was a matter of time for you both to get together."

Steven shook his head, "don't you think I was trying to keep this as a secret to you. In fact, we started dating just a few weeks ago, but if I didn't tell you immediately after that happened was because-".

"It's fine," Joseph seemed to completely understand his reasons, that being why he allowed himself to cut off Steven’s furious rambling. "I imagine you were still trying to come to terms with that. Don’t worry, I get you.”

Steven felt shame again. This time for not being able to do this sooner.

"So, aren’t you mad?"

"Why should I be?"

Once more, he sighed, now straightening in his place to add more seriousness to his words, "well, because I think I like men after all. And if I’m gay for real, this will mean I won’t get a future Devon heir, and I’ll be putting us in trouble and-”

Joseph smiled indulgently, then, tilted his head, giving his son a loving look.

"Steven..." he sighed, "life's too short and unpredictable to even worry about those sorts of things in advance. I mean, you can have your life all planned, and all of a sudden, it takes an unexpected turn and everything changes".

Steven nodded.

"When I was around your age, I was achieving everything I'd ever planned; I was this successful CEO both my father and grandfather raised me to be, I was happily and publicly married and you were about to born. I had everything."

Ah, he knew where this was heading to.

"I had planned my life to be exactly like that, like my father and grandfather wanted it to be and how I thought it would always be.”

This time, Joseph snickered lightly at himself

“Then, I had to face the fact that the woman I thought was the right for me didn’t want to be my wife anymore, then realized that my success wasn’t enough to keep a family happily together, and I had to raise you all on my own," Joseph clasped his hands together next. "What I’m trying to say is that you can’t be sure of what’s going to happen in the future. So, don't get so worked out about something that hasn't happened yet. When your time comes, you, and perhaps even Wallace, would decide what to do. And I do trust you will decide wisely, I have no doubt of that."

Suddenly, he became aware of the way his heart was exaggeratedly pounding hard against his chest, a lump in his throat holding back any kind of response; for that, Steven felt his eyes getting wet as an overwhelming sense of relief and happiness took over him.

He was, in fact, deeply moved by his father's words of acceptance. And trying hard to not cry, Steven remained silent, and almost two minutes went by like that until the older Stone decided to speak again.

“Besides… I’m happy for you.”

“You are?”

“Yes. All these years I watched you getting in relationships almost out of obligation. At first, of course, I thought that it was because of how the divorce had affected you, and that you still hadn’t found the right woman to love.”

Looking back at it, it sounded so ludicrous now.

“I’ve always seen people throwing themselves at you, and you resignedly settling with someone. But it was such a nice change when I noticed you were actually chasing after Wallace, with your heart all on your sleeve…”

How did his dad even manage to make it sound so embarrassing? Or was it just that Steven was that awkward in general?

"So..." Joseph cleared his throat. "How Wallace is doing?".

Steven chuckled, starting to move his tense body just a little. "He's fine. Happy. And so I am."

His father hummed.

"Wallace is a nice man,” he concluded. “I mean, he is very strong, capable, caring, funny, talented-"

"Beautiful," Steven uttered solemnly, adding to his dad's former statement. And when he realized what he just said and noticed the amused look on the older man's face, he felt his cheeks blushing, flustered.

"Oh, god. I'm still not prepared for diabetes, Steven," Joseph joked, gaining a gasp from his now again restless son.

"D-Dad!" He was sure he would die from the embarrassment since it never was his intention to sound so cheesy about Wallace in front of this father of his who loved to make jokes whenever it was possible.

Once he stopped laughing, Joseph stated, "well, I would like to meet him one of these days."

"Dad, you already know him."

"Indeed I do, however, you hadn't introduced him as your boyfriend yet, but only as your best friend instead."

Discreetly, Steven rolled his eyes.

"Whatever," he replied, "He'll be very glad to meet up with you. I'll be sure to tell you when we are free to hang out together."

His father nodded.

"Great," assuming the talk was already done, and to break any tension possibly remaining after that somehow awkward yet sweet conversation they shared, the man felt safe to bring up another topic. "Now, if my memory isn’t failing me, you told me that you've found a rare stone you wanted to show me."

Steven smiled for once.

"Yes. It's at my place".

"Shall we go then?"

He agreed, and once the both of them were standing, they remained quiet until the younger Stone broke the distance between them, wrapping his father in his arms, fervently, and of course, the embrace was immediately reciprocated.

"Thanks, Dad," Steven spoke softly, pure emotion in his voice.

"You are very welcome."

"This really means a lot to me. Just... thank you so, so much. I love you."

"You have nothing to thank me, Steven," At that moment, he sounded as moved as his son. Maybe that was the reason why he lightly kissed the top of Steven's forehead, the way he would when Steven was a kid. "You are my son, and for that, I will always love you, not only until you are old enough to make your own decisions and stop following my expectations. I love you the way you are and no matter what, it will always be like that."

“Dad…” was he about to cry? Yes, he was about to cry.

“I’m so proud of you, my boy. If it had been me going through this, damn, be sure I wouldn’t have been brave enough to go against the expectations put on me.”

“I can because I have an awesome dad like you.”

And of course, both laughed foolishly, Joseph running out of words too, unable to come up with one of his usual puns. This moment felt even holy, just a proof of the unconditional love going on between them, even if they didn’t spend much time with each other now.

And no word was spoken after that. Then, some seconds afterward they parted, only a little, however: all the way back home, Joseph wrapped an arm around Steven, holding him and patting his back and shoulder while they were walking all the way back home.

They spent the rest of the evening together, so casually, yet, it meaning the whole world to Steven; at first, he truly believed his father wasn't going to react well at him coming out so suddenly. Now, he was so thankful that, instead of falling apart, they grew even closer to each other. And so, silently, Steven made this promise that, he would try to reach out for his father more often. Growing up rather lonely didn’t mean he had to keep doing that way, that was one thing Wallace had taught him and that his dad was now reassuring him on.

Ah… How loved and accepted Steven felt. How great was to be truly in love with someone and be able to share that happiness with his loved ones.

And how much he admired his father. Hopefully, one day, he could truly aim to be half the wise and caring man Joseph was.

[hecohansen31]

Can I request something for mean daddy Roman? He went with you while you were helping Peter pick clothes for a date and He's mad because you called Peter cute even though it was a platonic gesture.

(A/N): Hello there, lovely!

I just… had a small heartattack once I read this ask, because… BITCH MEAN JEALOUS DADDY! ROMAN IS MY THING (I hate jealous boys, like if I ever ended up with a possessive boy… boy bye, but I can make an exception for Roman, he is my.. exception, excuse me while i cry because… he isn’t real).

(Santa Claus can I get him in my stocking? You can save on the clothes).

But seriously, thank you sweetie and sorry for taking so long (I also changed it a bit, because I had an idea for it, I hope you won’t mind, but if you do mind it, let me know and I’ll rewrite the ask!).

WARNINGS: Daddy! Roman (Slight Mention of DDLG relationship/Dom-Sub Dynamic), Choking and Slapping, Oral Sex (Male Receiving), Unprotected (Mirror) Sex (please stay safe… get those condoms and don’t pop children and STDs!), Rougher Than Usual.

Your relationship with Peter, unlike the one you had held with Roman, went back on older grounds.

When he had first come in town, you had been one of his first friends, mostly because you came from the same social class, hence you had many more things in common with him than with Roman, who you low key hated not only for the arrogance he constantly showed, but also because your father had been unemployed from the White House.

You had also slowly matured a crush towards Peter, although you were well-aware (or at least you were now) that you would never have a chance, as long as Letha was around.

Still you had managed, back in the time, to go on a date with Peter…

… for which you had been stood up for Letha.

You still remembered trying to call Peter, the phone finally him picking up just to release tiny and breathy moans and you had just ended the call rather quickly, waiting, in an extremely ‘emo’ way (you had to admit it) outside your house, meanwhile it poured rain outside.

And in that atmosphere, you had spotted Roman, looking around dazed and confused.

By that time, your relationship with the Godfrey brat had grown closer, although you would keep on using a façade of sarcasm and irritation, whenever you had to talk with him.

But you hadn’t been simply able to actually let him just drench himself.

You had rushed into the rain, well aware that you were also getting pretty drenched, pushing the boy for his shirt inside your house.

‘What the fuck were you doing here, idiot?’ you had asked, meanwhile you had disrobed quickly the catatonic Roman, who just looked like he had gone through some pretty rather heavy shit and made you question whether the coke had (finally) gone to his head.

“… I… Letha… Peter…” he mumbled, although his eyes wouldn’t still focus and didn’t follow the movements of your fingers, making you actually wonder if the hospital should be involved, but chose to avoid it because there was a light shade of sadness in Roman’s eyes, that couldn’t be cured with any medicine.

‘They kind of fucked us over’ you mumbled, pushing a rather fluffy towel through Roman’s hair, meanwhile he just pushed his head onto your chest, kind of trying to get comforted “What if we screw them over’

That phrase got something to act into Roman’s face, and before you knew it, he had gotten himself out of his catatonic state, looking up at you, a new emotion in his beautiful changing eyes: attraction.

Chills went down your spine, but they weren’t unpleasant, and you hadn’t felt anything like that since ever…

… and maybe it was the burning rejection you had received by Peter and the slight brewing attraction you had started feeling towards Roman, definitely something to do with the duality of hate and love.

You ended up in bed together that night and that had started a long story of hook-ups which benefitted you and Roman.

But you were pretty sure that simple ‘hook-ups’ didn’t stay in each other’s bed even the morning and that they got breakfast in there (you usually did it, since Roman would just collect something that could be eaten on the go or get some maid or butler to get something for you both).

After Letha’s death and Peter’s disappearing (with whom you had stayed as a friend, even through he teased you about your ‘relationship’ with Roman, saying ‘it wouldn’t last the summer’) you had been the only one who had stood there for Roman and even though he had pushed and pulled onto the link you had together… you had eventually grown into a semi-healthy relationship.

It wasn’t sex anymore, but Roman still hadn’t said those three words.

Not that you were expecting it to happen, mostly when he would look at you like the entire world for him ended and began with you and Nadia.

Your friendship with Peter had, also, resisted the distance and, although Roman hadn’t been happy of his return in city (you knew all too well that he didn’t know how to feel about Peter possibly meeting Nadia), you had immediately welcomed him back with open arms.

What you didn’t understand and couldn’t know was Roman’s jealousy towards your friendship.

He had had a crush on you since the moment you had joined their group, although he hadn’t acted up onto it: you were the only girl who treated him like he was less than the shit under her sneakers and he couldn’t help but find you beautiful with your sweet determinations and concealed gentleness.

You had never seemed to want him.

He knew all too well of your past crush onto Peter and he couldn’t help but be jealous of the way your relationship had started and processed: it was lighthearted and gentle, soft and pretty full of laughs, meanwhile yours with Roman was heavy and many times it was more an off-relationship, than an actual one.

(It was his fault most of the time but…).

So, he didn’t like you hanging out with Peter, since his return.

‘He abandoned us when we fucking needed him, how can you forgive him so easily?’ he had snarked out at you at dinner the previous night, when you had suggested helping out Peter with his mother’s bail.

‘He had his own things to deal with…’ you had tried to reply, meanwhile you had raised your glass of red wine to your lips, barely able to wet them with it, before Roman stormed out of the dining room, screaming:

‘We fucking had our own things to deal with, too!’.

Still Roman’s bad mood hadn’t stopped you form trying to hang out with Peter, like that day, when you had taken him into one of the stores that sold Roman’s expensive suits, to get him one to wear in court for his mother’s case.

The clerks had been pretty amicable, although they had looked at you with a shred of suspect, and you had had to explain that the shaggy man beside you was a friend of your family, needing a suit for an important business event.

And when you had gotten out your own credit card they hadn’t spoken anymore, preferring to take Peter’s measurements than to actually discuss you, the futurde Mrs. Godfrey according to anyone.

You just sipped champagne, meanwhile you and Peter judge badly the uncomfortableness of each jacket, passing a rather entertaining evening, before you both went to different roads, you deciding to shop a bit more, meanwhile Peter went back to Destiny’s apartment, thanking you for the little break from the heavy life he was going through.

“Ahhh, Petie you are my best friend, you can always come to me when you need it” you said, meanwhile hugging him tightly, and he smirked in your shoulder.

“Won’t Roman be pissed?” he asked, jokingly, getting a rather unamused smirk from you.

“Since when do I let Roman boss me around?”.

That night you had come home rather early, sending home the entire staff, thinking that cooking might help you a bit, alongside wanting to cherish ‘the asshole of your life’, before you checked onto Nadia, who was sleeping peacefully and softly stirred in her sleep, just to cuddled into your hand.

When you were descending the stairs, you felt the door open and went to welcome your lover, just to be welcomed by a disgruntled expression and tight lips that didn’t speak for the entire dinner, something which made the entire experienced rather awkward, but you knew better than to confront Roman on his childish behavior.

Your day had been rather peaceful, and you didn’t want to ruin it because Roman had a ‘lover spat’ with Doctor Pryce.

You waited for him to talk to you, meanwhile you were getting ready with all your lotions and treatments, meanwhile Roman turned around, trying to focus his attention on a dossier he was examining, but his eyes kept shifting on you.

“My day was good, thank you for asking” you mumbled as you started brushing your hair, not trying to turn to face him “… I am glad to hear yours was nice, too, goodnight to also you, Roman”.

“My day wasn’t actually nice, and you know why?” Roman’s eyes were staring into you from the mirror “… because my pretty girlfriend, the only one for me, decided to ditch off with my ex-best friend, who I told her to avoid”.

“Since when are you the one who decides who I can hang out with?” you retorted, pushing your hair in a loose braid, perfect for sleeping, meanwhile you simply brushed a bit of your lavender oil onto your neck, since it always seemed to relax you “It isn’t like I do that with you”.

“Oh, then you will be ecstatic to know that I’ll invite Bella at lunch tomorrow”.

He knew exactly where to hit you, that vicious piece of shit.

It wasn’t a secret that you disliked his secretary Bella: she was a pretty thing, who didn’t mind flirting with Roman like he hadn’t a girlfriend and she was definitely different from Peter, who knew you were with Roman and wouldn’t try a move on you.

You just shut up, not wanting to fight with an obviously annoyed Roman till he knocked some sense in himself, but when you turned around to get to bed, you found him next to your mirror, looking at you so intensively that you knew this wouldn’t be over soon.

“… would you like if Bella came to lunch, with your daddy, little girl?” he pointed each words with such a tight tone that you knew exactly what he was doing, only heightened by the way he pushed his grip onto your chin to make you look up at him.

“You are a fucking moron” you spitted out, exiting the grip, and moving to turn around, but this time Roman reached out for your neck, gripping it softly, but firmly and you knew that your words had hit the mark.

“… such a bad word for such a little girl” he mumbled his tone having softened relatively but this didn’t mean it wasn’t threatening anymore “… maybe this is the reason why I like Bella more than you”.

You reached out a hand in the front of his pants, and although you knew you would be punished because he hadn’t given you the permission, you cupped his bulge through the loose sweatpants he went to sleep in.

“… could Bella make you feel so good, daddy?” you shot back, before your hands gripped him tighter, following the outline of the bulge with your palm, before you pushed yourself to lick a little strip over his pants “… could she, daddy?”.

Roman honestly looked like he was already losing your mind and you smirked at him.

But then Roman’s hold tightened, effectively stealing your breath and you already knew that there would be a light sign of his hand on your neck, tomorrow.

“Since when are you the one who asks questions, little whore?” he asked you, your eyes meeting perfectly “… are you this talkative with Peter?”.

“Why don’t you ask him?” you almost expected the slap hat followed your brattish comment.

It wasn’t mean to hurt you, it was more meant to sting your face to bring you to focus definitely onto Roman, who sent you a rather harsh look, although you realized that he was simply toying with you.

“Stop fucking talking back to me” he pointed out each word and made you back down into the mirror “… I wanted to be nice with you, but you don’t leave me no choice”.

And he pushed up your chin with his index and thumb, tilting it lightly up so that you could look at his face, and more importantly his disappointed eyes.

You didn’t talk, knowing that your little stunt had pushed you too far and had you tried to talk back more, it wouldn’t have gone to your favor.

Roman seemed to appreciate your control onto your biting lips, gently slipping a hand to caress your stinging face, before his finger gently traced the outline of your lips.

“This is better, but I think that you now need to earn your forgiveness, little one” he gently suggested, caressing your hair, meanwhile he used them to move you closer to his bulge till your face was smashed, almost uncomfortably against it “… what do you say, when this happens, sweetheart?”.

“I am sorry, daddy” you mumbled, meanwhile your hands went obediently behind your back, Roman smirking at that sight, meanwhile he eased his sweatpants, showing that he hadn’t worn his boxers and you soon were face to face with manhood “… let me make it up to you”.

Roman smirked and allowed himself into your mouth, letting you play your game with languid strokes of your tongue and your lips gently teasing him with kisses, but he had soon enough and he pushed you by the hair to choke onto his cock.

You had just the time to relax your throat before Roman set up a maddening pace and you were just able to cover your teeth with your lips, trying to gain some balance with your upper body, meanwhile Roman did his bidding, using in your mouth in a shameless way.

He pushed your head up so that your glossy eyes could meet his, smirking at you, pleasure coursing through him thanks to your expert gestures, and soon his eyes closed giving in to pleasure and much more violent thrusts, although the rhythm slowed, but it didn’t mean that you were allowed to breath more.

Roman didn’t warn you when he came, although you felt it as your mouth fell onto his balls, teasing them to get a breather from the ruthless rhythms of his hips, finding them tight and hard, and just the right amount of pressure onto his slit was enough for him to let go.

Your mouth was soon full of salty taste and some even dribbled out of your mouth as Roman relieved yourself of the heavy weight of his cock, still hard, although he had cum already.

He didn’t even bother to clean his seed from your lips, and just turned you around, making sure you were watching the mirror, as he slipped into you pushing the nightgown to your waist and pulling your panties to the side, some kind of animal urgency to have you, shining in his eyes.

It was a bit painful at first, although you were sinfully wet for having worshipped your lover on your knees, because of the sudden thrust Roman delved into you, hitting further than he usually did, wanting to leave a mark with the way he stretched you.

“Fucking tight like a little virgin…” he mumbled onto your ear, onto which he lowered, making you feel the unnatural coldness of his chest , his short hair lightly tickling your shoulder, meanwhile an hand came to your chest kneading roughly your breasts “… I am so fucking lucky to have a cunt like that… am I not, princess?”.

You just nodded, pleasure finally overcoming you, as Roman’s thrust became more settled and organized, hitting that point inside you, meanwhile his rough hands over the silky material of your expensive nightgown made thrills appear onto your back.

“… and aren’t you lucky to have a cock that fills you up so good” he shot back, pointing each word with a sharp thrust, making you almost bump into the mirror, hadn’t his hold onto your waist been that strong to stop you “… aren’t you, little one?”.

He obviously wanted an answer and hadn’t you been well aware that you had already broken every rules, you would have sassed him out, but some part of you honestly thought that you just couldn’t resist him anymore, mostly when he was doing it almost reassured his position in your life.

“Fucking lucky, daddy” you mumbled in high pitched moan, opening your eyes to the beautiful image of your bodies entwined together, your mouth opened in a moan of ecstasy, meanwhile Roman was looking darkly at your body and before you knew it…

… you were lost, in your own little climax, closing momentarily your eyes, till you felt suddenly Roman’s cold skin, completely against your back, making you both lose your balance, tumbling down off your mirror drawer, both of you laughing as soon as you realized the absurdity of the situation.

“We are too old for this” you mumbled, meanwhile he pushed himself out of you, making you moan softly, his semen exiting you and slightly coating both your stomach and legs.

“… absolutely” he retorted, helping you up, settling your body in a more comfortable position “…shit we certainly don’t have the energy anymore”.

You just sent him a look as if to say ‘you just had me suck you off and then fucked me onto my mirror drawer, so shut the fuck up, you old man, you fucking still got it’ and he simply smirked, gently wiping away some your mixed juices from your thighs, tasting it from his fingers.

You simply moaned due to your sensitivity and this unlocked something in him, finally realizing that he might have overreacted a bit, gently pushing you into his arms, meanwhile he laid you softly onto the bed, letting you out of your clothes, before he moved to collect something to clean you up.

And once he was done comforting and cleaning your body, peppering it jokingly and much more softly with kisses, he finally slipped you in your most comfortable pajamas.

When you were settled, he gently cuddled next to you, smirking softly and blowing a gentle kiss onto your forehead

“I am sorry for being jealous of Peter, it’s just…” you gently turned to him, bringing him in a soft kiss, the first of the night, before you grabbed with enough force his face to make him grimace.

“… just settle your problems with him” you mumbled, before your lips lingered over his, in a teasing matter that got him almost a kiss, before you turned around, smirking sassily “… goodnight, daddy!”

[sincerelyreidburke]

Don't know why but all of the sudden I'm starting to wonder, what exactly was going through Quinn's mind after Nando left the Halloween party?

Something like this!

(Thank you for the ask!!!!!🤍🤍🤍)

//

Quinn has been waiting all night.

What for, he isn’t sure. The catch, maybe. For the other shoe to drop. He thought, beyond a doubt, that making the active decision to attend a frat party would mean bad news for him. That something would go wrong, something had to. Nevermind that it’s his first real college party in the first place— it’s also the ice hockey team.

And it’s not that he has anything against hockey. It’s popular back home, and he knows Samwell won some kind of a big game last year. It’s just that Quinn Cooper and sports do not usually mix. He tends to stay far away from that kind of action. The closest he’s gotten to a sport would probably be playing Troy in that one community production of High School Musical the summer before eleventh grade.

The point is, he really counted on something going wrong tonight.

And you could ask, hm, why would a person get himself into a situation out of which he was only expecting something to go wrong? The truth is… Quinn just wanted to branch out a bit, push his comfort zone. He likes Denice, thinks she’s sweet, and he’s grateful she invited everybody to the party.

Also, he made his costume. He didn’t really get a chance to wear it for much longer than the hour-long drama club general membership meeting (Halloween edition) on Thursday night. And if he didn’t go out tonight, he would’ve just spent it holed up in his room looking for bootlegs online.

Thus: frat party. The Samwell Hockey Haus. The… cutest boy he’s ever seen.

He didn’t plan on this, didn’t factor boys into his agenda for the evening. He thought he would be spending time with Denice, and, yes, okay, probably meeting some hockey players, but not… this. Not sitting on the porch with one until long past midnight, losing track of time in the conversation. Not this lightness in his chest he’s not sure he’s ever felt before.

He’s not going to read too far into this, because he doesn’t get his hopes up. Even though this guy made a sexuality-disclosing comment no less than ten minutes into their conversation tonight. And even though he let down his own guard enough to do the same himself— much later, but he still did it.

He’s met other gay guys. He does theatre, for the love of God. He’s just… never really met someone quite like Sebastián. Never hit it off so easily with a guy, never completely lost track of time talking to him like that.

But he isn’t going to get his hopes up. He can’t.

He pushes his way back into the living-room of the house after Sebastián’s friend in the chef costume takes him away for the night. He wonders, dimly, if he’ll ever see him again, but then again, if he can find him through Denice, would it really be that difficult?

Besides, who knows if Sebastián would even want to see him again. He kept him all night, while his hockey friends partied inside. Something in him knows that if he hadn’t showed up to this party, Sebastián’s night would have likely gone very differently. It would’ve… been more fun, probably. He feels a little guilty for it.

There’s still something of a disaster scene going on inside the actual frat house, overseen by the DJ in the robot mask, who, by the way, seems to run on a never-ending supply of energy. Quinn stands to the side of the front door and goes straight for the volume in his ears, turning it down to a level that allows him to be able to hear himself think again without the constant intrusion of bass. He can still feel the floor vibrate with the sound. Apparently, the DJ has no concept of volume control.

Now to find Denice. He’ll thank her, and then he’ll go back to his room and sleep. A respectable amount.

And maybe, the next time he sees her, he’ll ask about Sebastián. Maybe. He’s not sure he wants to let himself do that. There would be no use setting himself up for rejection, if it turns out he isn’t interested.

But tonight… what a lovely night. It can’t have been a fluke.

He wants to listen to Grease. It was playing earlier anyway.

Cautiously, he steps into the general crowd. Denice’s skirt was bright-pink, and he thinks that would make her easy to spot, but he isn’t having any luck scanning the room for her. Tony isn’t anywhere to be seen, either. He tries to avoid sweaty bodies and/or being trampled by tall people as he searches for a familiar face, but there’s nothing. It’s a wall of unfamiliarity. He hasn’t seen any of these people before.

Maybe this is where the other shoe drops. He gets lost and disoriented, a useless drama club freshman, in a hockey party crowd.

He should have just gone back to Wilson with Sebastián and his friend.

“Hey, are you okay?”

He must look lost, which is horribly embarrassing, but evident given the look on the person’s face who has just said this to him. It’s a tall guy, probably just as tall as Sebastián was, and he’s standing against the wall next to another, equally tall guy. They must be hockey players. “You look slightly stressed,” the guy adds.

Quinn really doesn’t want to be laughed at or made fun of. He puts up his guard. “I’m alright,” he replies, squaring his shoulders like they aren’t what feels like a foot taller than him. “Have you seen Denice?”

“Oh, Ford?” The guy who spoke smiles a little, then shakes his head. He has brown skin and green eyes, with a backwards red ball cap over his curly hair, and he’s very handsome. Also, he’s holding the other guy’s hand, and he’s tucked it into his back pocket. There’s a stuffed animal of some kind in another of his pockets. A lobster or a crab, maybe? “She went to bed, I think.”

“She was chaperoning her tipsy boyfriend,” adds the other guy, who is possibly the most ginger person Quinn has ever seen in his life. “He… can be a lot when he’s drunk.”

The first guy laughs knowingly. “But we can pass a message along to her,” he says, “if you need. Yoo— wait!” Something like realization dawns on his face. He seems a little tipsy, too, but definitely not completely drunk. “Are you her drama freshman?”

Oh, gee. Does Quinn have a reputation among the hockey team already? “I am,” he replies, standing his ground. The good news is that neither of the guys seem to have any interest in making fun of them. “I just wanted to thank her for inviting me.”

“Ohh. That’s cool, man.” The red hat guy pauses. “Sorry she left. I’ll chirp her tomorrow, if you want.”

Quinn has no idea what this means. He brushes off the lapel of his jacket. “I suppose I can just text her.”

“Do you need anything?” asks the ginger. His ears are huge. “There’s water in the kitchen.”

“Oh, I’m quite alright.” Quinn pauses. He should just get out of here. He doesn’t feel uncomfortable, exactly, especially not knowing these two hockey players are holding hands in plain sight— but he’d feel much more comfortable back in his bed. “But thank you,” he adds. “I think I’d best get back to my room.”

“Do you need a walking buddy?” asks red hat guy.

“Oh, goodness, no.” Quinn smooths his hair. “But thank you. I do appreciate it.”

“Of course, bro,” he replies. “Stay safe out there. Have a good night.”

“Thank you; I will.” He nods over his shoulder at the both of them, then signs goodbye. “You as well.”

The crowd takes just as much effort to push back through, and when he finally emerges back out onto the porch, he dusts himself off and takes a deep breath. That was a far too sweaty and crowded experience for his liking. It was much nicer being out here, on the porch with Sebastián, having a conversation.

He shakes himself out a little on his way down the front steps. He shouldn’t be daydreaming about a boy he just met tonight, especially one he’s not sure he’ll ever get the chance to see again.

Should he ask Denice? Maybe he should just ask Denice.

But— not tonight, he decides, as he walks away from the frat house and back towards the street. In the morning, he’ll decide if he wants to ask Denice about him.

Tonight, he’ll go back to his room. He’ll get changed and put his costume away. He’ll possibly listen to Grease. He’ll indulge himself in this daydream just a little longer, because he still can’t shake that lighthearted feeling.

But after that, he’ll go to bed. And in the morning, he’ll text Denice to thank her.

And after that… well, he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Through the Looking Glass || Morgan & Skylar

Timing: Early last week

Parties: @mor-beck-more-problems, @theskyeandsea

Contains: Mentions of drug use, depictions of death and dying

Summary: Morgan and Skylar take a break from it all to have a fun, innocent time at the carnival. 

Skylar basked in the rays of the summer sunset, taking in a deep breath to fully absorb the sugar-laden scent that mixed with the salty sea breeze in a surprisingly pleasant way. The heat of the day had faded and the flashing lights of various attractions blinked against the backdrop of the ocean. She could hear sounds of carnival games whirling and children laughing as they ran from one ride to another-- it was… wonderful. And nothing that she’d ever experienced before. Her mother had never liked the idea of state fairs or carnivals, calling them “backwoods entertainment” or other things like that. She’d never been to the circus either, though a part of her really didn’t mind that. The idea of seeing animals having to perform had always made her a little uncomfortable. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar figure walking up and she offered a wave. “Hey, Morgan!” She said with her usual brand of quiet enthusiasm. “I’m glad you wanted to check out the carnival with me. I, um, I’ve never actually been to one before.” She admitted with a sheepish smile.

Morgan opened her arms to Skylar and pulled her into a hug. She was a tall girl, Morgan could never wrap her up safe the way she seemed to need sometimes, but she did her best, giving Skylar a little squeeze. The weeks since they’d seen each other had taken the stuffing out of her. New medication could be rough like that, and Morgan wrestled with the urge to ask if there was anything more to it. Another hunter attack? Another White Crest wilderness mishap? “Hey, you,” she said instead.”I’m glad you said yes. There’s at least a seventy percent chance this place is chock full of magic, but I can’t help but want to go back and it’s much more fun with a friend. “And you’re definitely not alone there. This might be my second trip, but this is still my first carnival. It’s so big, I don’t think even two trips would be enough to see or try everything. But we can do our best, right? We’ve earned a little break from all the mess. And I really want you to tell me if turkey legs are still all they’re cracked up to be.” She linked their arms together and lead them under the entrance archway. There was enough sun for her to read all the signs and posters indicating what lay where on the fairgrounds and she stopped a moment, feeling the same twinge of wonder rise up all over again at just how much there was, and how simple the choices were, all just a matter of want, of color, of impulse. Nothing more weighty or more complicated than that.

Initially taken aback by the hug, Skylar relaxed into the gentle embrace, squeezing Morgan back in kind. How long had it been since they’d last seen each other? How long had it been since she’d seen… much of anyone, actually? After her run in with the hunter, she’d spent so much of her time holed up in the house or hiding at work, desperately trying to keep her head down. She didn’t know if the man was still out there, only what he was capable of. But… it had been over a month since that awful night. Over a month since she’d gained the new scar that sliced across the back of her leg. “You’ve already been here before? Did you come with Deirdre?” She asked as she let Morgan take her arm and guide her into the carnival proper. It was loud and the noises from the people around them were slightly distracting, but being close to Morgan helped her focus on her words. “Turkey legs? Those sound really great, I’d love to try one.” She said, intrigued by the idea. Something that she’d be able to eat without worrying how people would look at her. That honestly sounded really nice. As they walked through the carnival, she took in all the games and lights, the various rides that spun around in dizzying circles. It seemed so fun and lighthearted-- a welcome change from everything else that had happened to her in the past few months.

“I did, yeah,” Morgan said with a smile. “It was quite the adventure, and uh, maybe as a consequence, we should steer clear of the Museum of Monstrosities pop-up stop. And that whole, uh, area. Just in case anyone recognizes me from last time.” She gave Skylar a sheepish smile. She felt a lot of things about that particular part of their visit, but regret wasn’t one of them. She knew, sure, that there was value in preserving artifacts and remains for the sake of history, for the preservation of people always on the run or in hiding, but that wasn’t what she’d seen. Hopefully this time, they could keep things easy and safe. “Come on, I’ll get you a turkey leg and  you can tell me what I’ve been missing out on while we figure out what we want to hit up first. It looks like there’s a lot of people taking pictures by that stand over there, but I can’t see what it’s for…”

Though she was a bit puzzled, Skylar nodded all the same, “That works for me. I’m not really interested in that sort of thing anyways. I figured there might be some… weirdness here. Given that it’s a White Crest carnival. But, yup, I’m very okay with not poking around that side of the carnival.” She said with an affirmative thumbs up. As they meandered through the carnival, her eyes flicked from attraction to another, Skylar could feel the tension start to ease from her shoulders. Being able to hang out with a friend, enjoy their company, do something new and interesting-- it was all just a nice break from reality. Kind of like how anime night with Rio and Winston had been. While she couldn’t remember the specifics of what had happened, it was still a very nice time. And hopefully tonight would be more of the same. “Oh, you don’t need to do that.” She said with a wave of her hand as she stood on her tiptoes, trying to peer over the crowd before them. “Um, I think it’s for some kind of lion..?” She asked, though her voice was uncertain. “Do you want to check it out? I’ve never actually seen one, so it could be neat. And,” Skylar pointed over towards one of the nearby stalls that was off to the side of the line, “There’s a turkey leg stand on the way while we wait. Two birds with one stone?”

“I think that sounds like a great plan,” Morgan said. She followed Skylar to the stall and took their turn in line, glancing up at her to see how she was easing into the day. She didn’t seem any more anxious than usual; there was even a hint of a smile pulling at her lips. But that flattened look remained. Maybe the side effects of her medication were more than just her mood. “Hey, I really am glad you got yourself figured out with your new meds. I got lucky that my happy brain shots don’t mess with me. It’s just my old prescription with an extra magic kick. But when I was first getting started, it was really hard.” She gave her a little nudge. “Anyways, I remember Turkey legs being really greasy and good. If it’s not just a little crispy on the outside and warm and juicy on the inside, throw it away as a lost cause.” She got on her tiptoes to look at the crowd by the lion’s den. “Must be a small lion. Think it’s a cub, or some supernatural critter we don’t know about?”

At the mention of her medicine, Skylar could feel her stomach twist a little, the inside of her left arm suddenly warm. But, she did her best to focus on what Morgan was saying instead, about how what she was taking really helped her. “That’s really lucky. I’m, um, I’m sorry about the other day. I just underestimated how much it was going to affect me. But it’s all good now.” She said with a nod. The pain was lessened, even now. Of course, she had some of the valium Felix had sent along with the bliss coursing through her system, cutting through the pain. But… Morgan didn’t really need to know that. As they passed by the turkey leg stall, Skylar slipped away from Morgan and bought herself one and was surprised by how tasty it was. There was a little bit of char, it was dripping with greasy, and just a little bit hard to chew through. While she was more than capable of eating with her veneers in, she was very aware of how easy it would have been to bite into the leg with her real teeth. Swallowing, she wiped her mouth before nodding in approval at Morgan. “Definitely worth the line for this, mhm!” She said before taking another bite as she looked over the crowd. She could just barely make out golden brown fur from where she stood, along with a very wispy looking mane. “It might not be very well taken care of..?”

“It’s really okay, Skylar,” Morgan said. “Things happen, especially here. We get taken away from ourselves for a little while. And then we come back. And yours definitely wasn’t that bad.” She smiled and stepped back to appreciate the scene of the turkey leg. Was it bad, somehow, to have so much excitement for something she couldn’t have? To fixate on how the skin peeled from the meat and the little bits of juice and how grease…? She could almost taste it in her mouth. She could only taste heat when it was boiling, enough to burn anyone else’s tongue off. If she reached for the wrapper, the grease would only be the memory of itself. Better to let Skylar have her fun and remember being at the rodeo on her own time, while she still remembered it at all. Besides, they might have a lion to save.

Morgan stuck close to Skylar as they made their way over. Crowds always parted for tall people and soon they were looking at...a dog. Morgan bent down and put her finger out to the animal’s snout. As he sniffed her experimentally before nosing her into pets, she noticed the seam around his head where his ‘mane’ pressed against his golden fur. Yep. Definitely a dog.

“He does tricks!” The boy handling him said. “Hey, Lion, can you roar?”

The dog wriggled into the most majestic pose he could manage and gave it his best effort.

“Lion, lay down!”

Lion laid down, puppy eyes turned upwards for approval.

“Good boy, Lion!”

Morgan exchanged a look with Skylar. Lion’s coat glowed in the afternoon sun and his tail wagged with delight as he received his ‘lion’ treats. Not much of a supernatural injustice or mystery there. “Is it okay if we pet him?” She asked.

Shifting with a slight unease at Morgan’s words, Skylar was suddenly grateful for the space between them. That, and the excuse not to respond as she took another particularly large bite of the turkey leg. Instead of responding, she offered a tentative smile and continued to shuffle forward towards the… lion. Which turned out to be nothing more than a dog wearing a scruffy fake mane, trying its very best to do the tricks that his owner commanded. In hindsight, seeing an actual lion might have been far too much for her, particularly if they were up this close. As it was, this “lion” was nerve-wracking enough. But, it seemed like a really well trained dog. As Lion’s tail wagged excitedly, eagerly looking up at his owner with a wide grin, Skylar couldn’t help but laugh a little. “If you’d like, that’s okay with me.” She said with a nod and followed behind Morgan as the two went up to the small stage where Lion sat, wagging its tail and accepting pats from the passing onlookers.

As she waited for Morgan to get her turn, Lion’s eyes lit up at her approach and darted across the stage towards her. Before she could react, the dog had stolen the turkey leg from her hand. “Lion! No, bad do-- lion! I’m so sorry, Miss, you coulda lost a finger.” The boy apologized as he grabbed Lion by the scruff of his “mane” and pulled him away. Meanwhile, the dog happily munched on the turkey leg, still very much grinning through the meaty bone in its mouth. “It’s okay, really.” Skylar laughed, shaking her head. “Well. That wasn’t exactly what I expected.” She said to Morgan as the crowd began to exit the small stage area. “Where to next?”

Morgan tried not to laugh too hard at the prospect of the golden mix dog taking someone’s finger. Lion was a lot of things, including meat hungry, but he yapped too happily and smiled too wide to look like much of a threat to anyone, even at his hungriest. But so as not to insult either one of them, she thanked the handler and went down the nearest walkway with Skylar. She looked up and down the stalls thoughtfully. “Probably not the games. Most of them are run by fae and not in the biggest at playing fair. And that game--” she pointed at one, “Looked a little weird to me the last time I saw someone play it. But, ooh, this is probably safe?” Morgan unfurled from Skylar and backed her way into a large wooden stall marked The Hall of Mirrors and Mystery. “I’ve always wanted to go into something like this before, but I’ve never had the chance. What do you think? Down for a little Wonderland walk, Alice? Feels like they have AC in here too.” She beamed wide, hand outstretched for Skylar, and slipped into the dark hall.

“That sounds good to me,” Skylar nodded as she followed Morgan through the crowd of people and they resumed their wandering through the carnival. At the other woman’s words, she raised an eyebrow, “The Fae? How did you figure out that they were running the games?” She asked, a bit curious. Did Morgan have some kind of sixth sense that came with being a zombie, that allowed her to figure out what other people were? Looking over in the direction of where she pointed, Skylar grimaced. People were just plunging their hands into what looked like a giant tub of mayo-- no, no thank you. “Mhm, I’d like to stay clear of that one too.” As the other woman peeled away from her, she tilted her head at the Hall of Mirrors. It didn’t seem too scary, unlike some of the thrill rides that dotted the carnival grounds. It was just a hall of mirrors, that was it. Looking at Morgan’s outstretched hand, Skylar nodded, “Does that make you the March Hare? Well, let’s go down the rabbit hole together.” She said with a smile of her own.

“My girlfriend has a very nifty way of looking out for me,” Morgan said with a grin. “Remind me to tell you how she won me two prizes at the dart game sometime.” She gave Skylar an elaborate curtsey and took her arm again as they moseyed inside. The mirrors were lined with bright strips of neon lights. Their reflections warbled in the first hall before their eyes like they’d been stretched out over the river. Then the room opened out to a large gallery, lined with mirrors fanned out in every possible angle, some into more halls, others into dead ends. The rest of the people with them scattered to their own corners, taking selfies and making fun of each other. Morgan let her fingers ghost over the edge of the panels she passed as she took them to the left. It was sweet, even, how much work had been put into something so simple. Then Morgan caught a glimpse of another self from the corner of her eye. She would know that Little Mermaid backpack anywhere. “Skye…” She knew exactly what day this was. Her little arms were so tired from carrying all the things she could squeeze into that dumb, plastic backpack. But the water was so high for her, she knew all her books would get ruined if she slid on the straps and carried it the normal way. She hadn’t packed enough clothes, and the neighbor’s boat had been left waiting because she was crying over the water in her socks and her ruined books. Her mother had yelled at her in front of all those strangers… She dropped Skylar’s arm. “Skylar, are you seeing this too?” She asked in a whisper.

Following Morgan inside, Skylar’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the hall, the only illumination coming from the bright lights that wreathed the mirrors in light. It was simultaneously blindingly bright and incredibly dark at the same time inside the hall. As she took in the room, she peered into some of the mirrors, a smile growing on her face as she saw how the various mirrors distorted her appearance. Some of them made her appear taller than she already was, others stretched her face, still others-- as she glanced over at Morgan, she was caught off guard by a reflection in the mirror. A small girl, with a bright Little Mermaid backpack… Blinking, Skylar looked around the room, trying to find the girl in the reflection. But, it was just her and Morgan. “I-- yes, who’s that?” Glancing around the room, she tried to look for any sign of supernatural monsters that might have snuck up behind them. Was it a ghost, trapped in the mirror? But, the expression on Morgan’s face was one of… recognition. Like she knew who the girl in the mirror was.

Before Skylar could question her further, she froze. A woman, her height, sandy blonde hair, her same blue eyes, but… much older. There were wrinkles around her eyes, the skin around her jaw tighter. And the way she held herself, was stronger, more assured. She stared at the woman, watched as her fingers began to sign something, though the mirror was too unfocused to make out the specific signs. But, she could make out the general idea. Safe, community, you are good. Swallowing, Skylar nudged Morgan, “I… Can you see her too?” The woman in the reflection looked to be about fifty. Who was she? Why did she look so familiar?

Morgan had knelt down to look at her nine year old self. She was trying so hard not to cry and Morgan felt a sickening twist of embarrassment for her. Just breathe, kid, she wanted to say. Just breathe while you still can. This isn’t gonna be the last time you lose everything, just pull yourself together. But she was just following her movements pitifully, struggling to carry herself upright with her wet things. She didn’t look away until Skylar’s call. She peered over at the next mirror and-- “Oh, Earth. It’s you. You look so--” A wet laugh burbled out of her. Morgan wiped the corners of her eyes and scrambled up to get a better look with her. “Um, I know these, she’s...comforting someone, yeah? She’s--” Older than Morgan would ever look, something she hadn’t bothered to think about before. What a life she was going to have, or might have, at least. It wasn’t going to be fun pretending to be a student or a younger friend of hers if they were even going to get to know each other that long. Morgan squeezed the girl’s arm gently. “She looks like she’s doing really good.”

The slightly off sound of Morgan’s laughter caught Skylar’s attention and she glanced over just in time to see the woman dabbing at the corners of her eyes. Not wanting to draw attention to it, she bit the inside of her cheek. It was only then that she processed Morgan’s words. It was her? No, that couldn’t be her. She looked so… assured. So calm and steady, like a tree that had weathered a storm and still remained standing tall. That couldn’t possibly be her. “I thought it might be my mom.” She whispered quietly, before reaching out to touch the mirror. Before her fingers could touch the reflective surface, the image seemed to ripple and she was face to face with her own reflection, tentatively reaching out to the mirror. The same clothes, the same choppy hair, the same blue eyes with dark rings below. “It’s me again.” She said, slightly aghast. “What was that?” Skylar asked, turning to Morgan, hoping the other woman would have some kind of answer.

“No, but she’s just your height, and the freckles--” Morgan was about to trace the pattern along the reflection when it shifted back to normal. “It...must be some kind of magic. Maybe it’s reading our memories, or the threads of fate. Showing us...our path, or some of them.” She rolled her shoulders and clenched and unclenched her hands, trying to steady herself without breath and moved down to the next mirror. “She is real, you know,” she said, putting on a brave smile despite her sniffles. “Fate? You have plenty of choices and opportunities, but once you’ve locked yourself past the point of no return, she won’t let you--” Morgan’s words died in a silent scream. She stumbled back into Skylar, trembling. Looking back at her was her body, but not rammed through with steel on the pavement. She was shot through with magic, energy warping her veins til they bulged white. There was a circle around her and a cauldron of blood at her feet. “Something went wrong,” her reflection whimpered. “I went a-a--”

Morgan backed away from her before another twisted, death-throes sound could escape her twisted mouth. “Sorry,” she stuttered, turning away and stumbling down the hall, only to find the vision of another death, this time, her body ground to a dark smear in some empty lot. She went stiff, turned again, and saw herself as it had really happened: stuck to the ground and choking on her pain as she cried. Stars above, there had been so much blood. She hadn’t remembered the blood except for what had stuck to her body. There was Deirdre and Remmy huddled around her, and the way everything burned and blurred because she was crying so hard and how she had fought because in that moment it was the end of everything: the last glimpse of the sky, the last cloud, the last look at someone who loved her, but the rest---Morgan’s hand went to the spot on her stomach as she remembered. Every time she’d  tried to lift herself off that stick, she hurt down in places she didn’t know she could. She’d hurt so much she’d barely been able to speak at all. Morgan screwed her eyes shut and clamped her hand over her mouth. “S-skylar?” She croaked. She didn’t want to be here anymore. If she had been fated to die the moment she came here, maybe even fated to become this (“Not a ‘this’, never a this,” Deirdre’s voice reminded her) she didn’t need to look at it. But Morgan’s jaw was clenched, her chest barely full with enough air to speak at all. “Skylar--?” She tried again, praying she was loud enough to be heard.

“But…” Skylar’s words died in her throat as she continued to stare back at her own reflection. How could that possibly be her? The woman who’d looked at her, she’d seemed… so much stronger, so much braver than she could ever imagine herself being. No, it couldn’t be her. As she listened to Morgan’s words, she wondered just what this place was. How could it know? How could magic see things that could be, or that would be, and project them out like this. Opening her mouth to ask Morgan another question, she caught sight of another Morgan in the mirror, a black cauldron rippling with red liquid at her feet--

Before she could react, the other woman had ran in the opposite direction, away from the terrible image in the mirror. And Skylar found herself alone. Except, she wasn’t. Not really. The image of not-Morgan faded from the reflective surface and a small figure appeared, her hair cut at a lopsided angle. Skylar’s eyes widened, a lump forming in the back of her throat. Blood, she could feel the blood that ran down her chin that day. That was the day she’d bit the awful boy who’d cut her long, beautiful hair. That had been the day her mother had taken her to get her hair cut in a choppy bob, to hide the large hunk of hair that was suddenly missing. She looked at the little girl who stared back at her with tear-filled eyes and blood crusted lips. Skylar wanted to cry. Wanted to sweep her up in her arms and tell her that it would… it would be better. But would it? Would any of this ever get better? Biting the inside of her cheek, she turned and ran in the direction of the exit. She had to get out of here, she needed to leave this place.

Morgan listened for any sign that the girl was nearby. All the grief she had buried rose up from the grave she’d dug at the bottom of her soul. It pulled on her bones with the coldest fingers, twisting her until she bent double, sore and aching. Then she heard crying. “Skylar--?” She choked out. She still couldn’t get her throat to open or her lungs to work. She looked around her and saw--another self. A live one, with flecks of gray in her hair and wrinkles around her mouth. She couldn’t stop her tears from coming anymore than Morgan could now. “What’s wrong?” Morgan rasped. She looked fine enough, save for the handle of whiskey in her grip and the mess of glass and dirty clothes at her feet. But there was something wasted-looking about her, like her insides had gone all shrivelled. “What did you do?”

The older woman shook her head and hid her face, ashamed.

“S-stop. Stop that. Answer me. Please, answer me. What did we do wrong now?”

The woman only popped off the lid of the alcohol and drank deep, grimacing with hatred before bending over with cries again.

Morgan stumbled down the hall, fingers catching on the bright edges of the mirrors. If she could just stick to one wall, she had to be able to find the exit. She passed herself crying in the bathroom as Karen was dragged away by her mom, the fragile whimpers she’d made when her mom explained that she was cursed, but no worries, great great grandma Agnes did it, it wasn’t just because she had the misfortune of being born. Stars, she never stopped crying, and it was all the mirrors were throwing back at her, a cascade of nothing but misery until, all at once, silence crashed through the hall.

The Hall of Mirrors, Skylar had realized, wasn’t a whimsical place. It wasn’t a fun, happy diversion from reality. No, it was just another reminder of how awful, how terrible this place was. How… inhuman she was. As she ran through a room full of more of the strange magical mirrors, she saw glimpses of her past self, of future selves. A small girl crying in the corner of the library the day after her brother had abandoned her for his new, better friends. A woman looking wistfully out to the sea. A seal, with deep scars running across her front fins and jaws. Tears began to streak down her face as she tried desperately to find the exit. She didn’t want to see this. She didn’t want to remember her past, she didn’t want to know what awaited her.

As she rounded a corner, Skylar found herself in a nearly pitch black room. The exit? It had to be, why else would it be so empty, so dark? As she took a tentative step forward, she realized the room was dark because the neon lights around the mirrors of this section had burned out. The room was filled with the barest hint of illumination that leaked from the hallway she’d just come from. She stood there for a moment, hesitant. Was this the right way? The instant the doubt entered her mind, a doorway creaked open at the end of the hall, filling the room with rays of sunlight. And that was when Skylar let out a horrified gasp.

A crumpled woman stared up at her from where she lay on the ground. An empty vial lay next to her and behind her, something burned. She couldn’t tell what it was, she was too focused on the tangled, matted hair, the scarred… collapsed veins of her arms. Sores, she could see ugly red sores that mottled her body. Dry, cracked hands rubbed at her skin, as though trying to brush away phantom bugs that crawled against her. Skylar stared in horror as familiar blue eyes looked back at her from sunken eye sockets. Even then, the expression on her face was serene. “It’s easier this way. For everyone.” The woman-- no, Skylar realized. Hardly a woman. This version of herself in the mirror… she couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than herself. A choked sob spilled out of her as Skylar sank her head into her hands, unable to look for any longer.

In the quiet, Morgan kept her trembling hands over her ears, just in case she was mistaken. She couldn’t handle another cursed, dead end future, she just needed to find Skylar and get out. Then she heard it: the faintest flutter in the air, a breathless laugh. She lowered her arms and looked, ignoring another series of selves that twinned with her exactly, alone at what might as well have been the end of the world. Morgan wanted there to be a point to all this, a reason to keep trudging through the days, even if it was so fucking rare and next to impossible.

Of course the Morgan in the mirror hadn’t aged a bit. Her dress was a little nicer, but no one would have been able to tell them apart otherwise. The only sign this picture had been summoned from years ahead was the girl next to her. She wasn’t more than thirteen by Morgan’s best guess, still round and soft in the cheeks. She swayed awkwardly on legs she hadn’t grown into yet, and only had to rise on her tiptoes to surpass Morgan’s height, which she did gleefully with a smile that made Morgan’s chest ache with recognition. Brown hair fell down her face and over her shoulders, ornamented with an uneven cascade of flowers and tiny bones she had tried to put in herself. She was, Morgan realized, a near-perfect rendering of Deirdre, only younger, happier. Her nose was sharper and upturned and her eyes were much closer to hazel than brown, but it was that same effervescent spirit that sometimes fell out of Deirdre when they were alone and happy, rendered large over the girl’s entire body. And she had wings: a thin set of moth wings patterned gray and brown and white like the trees in winter. They fluttered in giddy fits as she tried to show off the mess she’d made of her hair and cajole her Morgan into doing something for her.

Morgan reached out for them, forgetting the glass until her fingers knocked against it. She didn’t dare ask aloud, as if doing so might jinx this future’s existence. But she knocked, trying to get their attention. Was this everything it looked to be? Were they that happy? What was the girl’s name? And where was Deirdre? The Morgan in the mirror gave her a smug smile, seeming to read her thoughts, and mimed that her lips were sealed. Morgan could have watched them until nightfall, watching for some hint about how to get to that place, but the sound of another cry, markedly different from her own, jolted her out of her longing.

Skylar. Shit.

“Skylar?” Morgan called. “Where are you?” She followed the hall into another room and-- “What the hell is that?” She rushed over, but the image of Skylar’s ruined body faded as soon as she was close enough to get a good look.”Skye?” She asked softly. “Hey, can I help you up? We’re almost out of here, okay?”

Skylar didn’t want to see this, she didn’t want to see any of this. She didn’t want to know what the future held for her, not if this could happen to her. This was just… too much to bear. Even if the other possibilities existed, this one, the one that stood before her-- she let out a shuddering sob. As awful as this final one had been, the others replayed in her mind. The ruined jaw of a seal, an older woman staring with intense longing at the sea… She didn’t want to know those existed. None of them were good, none of them were right. Skylar felt the tears roll down her cheeks as she buried her head deeper into her hands. “No. No, no, no.” She mumbled to herself.

Skylar felt more than heard Morgan next to her and did her best to quell the sobs that shook her body. Peering through her hands, she nodded. “P-please. Please, I can’t… I can’t.” She said before retreating back to the shelter of her hands.

Morgan reached for the girl, pulling her up with ease. “You’re gonna be okay,” she said. “There’s nothing to see anymore, and we’re getting out of here.” She hefted them towards the wall she’d been following and soon found another door. One push and light streamed into the dark room. Morgan dragged them out, stumbling into the fair grounds and kicking over one of the cones that blocked it off for anyone mistaking it for an entrance. She held Skylar steady and upright. “Deep breath, honey, okay?” She said. “We’re out. You can take a big breath now. We’re safe.”

Breathing, she could do that. She could do that. Skylar let Morgan lead her out of the Hall of Mirrors, burrowing her head into the smaller woman’s shoulder. What she’d seen in there, what could come to pass… No. No, no, no. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. She forced her lungs to fill, made herself hold the breath, measuring time by the rapid pounding of her heart, before letting it out. Over and over, she did that until the panic began to fade. The fear remained, the dread and horror still hovered over her like a dark cloud. But, at least she was out of there. At least she was safe. “I… Need to go home.” She whispered. “Can we go?”

“Yeah, honey, we’re going home right now.” Morgan took Skylar’s hand firmly in her own and steered them quickly back the way they’d come. She could no longer pick out any one sound or sight. The lights were too bright in the afternoon sun, the sand glared cruelly against her eyes, bouncing against their bodies like spotlights. Morgan hurried them faster, faster, not letting go of the girl’s arm for a moment. “We don’t have to do anything else today, okay?” She said. “We’re just gonna go. We’re going, Skylar, okay? It’s already behind us. We can talk about it later. For now? It’s gone.”

[starbuck]

Terror Notes: “Go For Broke”

well… I guess I’m really doing this! Some proper, bullet-pointed notes for each episode of The Terror, starting with ep 1: Go For Broke!

I wrote these out last night (and edited them this morning to make them readable - you’re welcome!) so I hope that y’all enjoy my thoughts and assorted nonsense! I tried to save my comments for points I actually wanted to make because I feel like they bring something to the table but I still ended up writing A Lot lol

I love that Crozier couldn’t even be bothered to be present in welcoming Sir John and Fitzjames onto Terror, making Little and Hodgson do it by themselves. One could argue that he had important captain-y things to be doing at that time or something but I’m not 100% sure that wasn’t the case. 

idk if it’s just the angle, but I paused the episode just as the shot of the officer’s mess is coming in from above and Hodgson’s hands make me so uncomfortable. They look so bone-y and weird. (Just what you came here for, I know. Hand commentary.)

Cannot tell you how uncomfortable it is, after many rewatches, to listen to Fitzjames recounting in a casual, lighthearted manner 1) shooting people 2) people catching fire (and burning to death), and 3) their burning flesh smelling “like roast duck” (so, like something edible) and it’s even more uncomfortable to have the closeup be on Hodgson’s face as he laughs at the ‘roast duck’ comparison.

On a lighter note: I love that Fitzjames felt the need to remind everyone what size cherries are by illustrating it with his fingers. In case they forgot, I guess? As someone who occasionally speaks unnecessarily with my hands, big mood tbh.

I LOVE it when Fitzjames gives Little that affirmative tap on the arm after he compares Fitzjames’s injury to Lord Nelson’s. My friend Eli and I refer to it as The Fitzjames Arm Tap. I would like a Fitzjames Arm Tap, pretty please.

God, Sir John loudly setting his hands on the table to try to dispel the tension from the ‘birdshit island’ debacle as he attempts to change the subject is so funny. I’m gonna stop just pointing out things I find funny soon, I swear, but I just cannot handle this scene.

Between Hodgson looking horrifically embarrassed by Crozier’s outburst at Fitzjames and Little looking nervous when Crozier shoots him a look as Sir John says that there’s no reason to be concerned about the ice, it really does seem that they were having to ‘manage’ him even back in ep 1 when his alcoholism wasn’t completely out of hand.

Personal sidenote about this: My Pop-pop is often rude to workers in stores and restaurants (he doesn’t drink thank goodness but he has Alzheimer’s coming on which has worsened his temper) so I very much understand the feeling of being on-edge that an outburst is going to occur and trying to deal with the fallout when it does. Just going by my own experience, I can imagine Little apologizing to Fitzjames for Crozier’s rudeness as soon as they were out of Crozier’s earshot (not that anything Little could say would heal the deep psychological wound that Crozier created but hey, it’s something).

The way that Sir John brushes aside Dr. MacDonald’s and Crozier’s concerns about moving Young when he’s in such bad shape never fails to upset me but also ~foreshadowing for hauling the ill on boats oooohhh~

I said I was done pointing out random things that amuse me but the speed and agility with which Des Voeux pops out of the hatch and onto the deck after Orren falls into the water is just so funny. I could watch that two second clip on repeat all day. Might gif it so I actually can.

Is this a good time to point out that there’s also a scene in Moby-Dick where someone falls from high up on a mast and drowns? It’s in a chapter all about bad omens experienced by the crew of the Pequod and The Terror definitely has some similar vibes going on with the sun dogs displayed in the establishing shot of Erebus in that scene and David Young, a “warning of things to come,” on his way over.

The second(?) time I watched the part where Young tells Stanley that he didn’t think anything of getting headaches since he’s always gotten them, I had this thought pass through my head that was like “oh god, I had chronic migraines for years so I’d never have known if I had lead poisoning either!” but then I realized that this probably was not a relevant concern I should have.

Not sure I have any deep commentary on this but as Gore informs Sir John and Fitzjames about the blocked propeller, he’s standing in the same spot, in the same room as Goodsir will stand next episode to tell them about his death.

Also regarding this scene, I love how Gore waits for Fitzjames to give him the go-ahead to leave before actually going. I know that Fitzjames is his superior officer too but, since Sir John already dismissed him, it seems like waiting for Fitzjames’s approval isn’t really necessary, yet a nice thing to do. Perhaps this is a legitimate formality, but something similar happens later in this episode in the command meeting when Crozier asks Gore how many sun dogs he’s seen; he looks to Fitzjames and waits for his nod before answering Crozier. He doesn’t look to Sir John, he looks to Fitzjames. I know that we know essentially nothing about Gore but like.. underrated ship???? Just saying…

Ten nights ago, I was unable to get to sleep for at least an hour because I started thinking about David Young’s saying “I want to go to my grave as I am” and, of course, that ultimately doesn’t happen for him but also, this, like all things about him, is a “warning of things to come.” I’m pretty sure that no one else was properly buried until, arguably, Fitzjames and ironically, that was explicitly not what he wanted done with his body (and, since his grave was later looted by Hickey, similar to the way that Young’s autopsy ultimately achieved nothing, it didn’t really matter anyway).

I know that this happened exactly ten days ago because I forced myself to wake up and write it down in my notes app, lest I forget, which only prolonged my sleeplessness. I suffer for my analysis. 

Ah yesssss Tozer’s lesbian haircut. We love it! Why does my hair not look like that when I take a hat off? I’d like to file a complaint.

Was just thinking the other day about how Hartnell being the one to notice that there was something up with the ice in ep 1 is followed up on with Blanky complimenting Hartnell’s ability to read the ice to Crozier in ep 7. I wonder if Blanky ever gave him like. ice-reading lessons after becoming aware of his interest and natural talent at it in ep 1? That makes me happy to think about.

The two people who we’re shown awoken by Young’s screaming are Sgt. Bryant and Morfin and like. Do I even have to explain why that’s an Oof?

The way that Goodsir hesitates before knocking on Stanley’s door and Stanley irritatedly closing his book before answering the knock in an exasperated voice would be comedic in any other context. If I’m being honest, it still makes me laugh. As does Stanley’s “As if that weren’t plain.”

I’ve pointed this out before but mmmmm... that shot of Stanley in profile with the open candle flame in the background… the foreshadowing in this ep is thicker than the smoke at… Oh alright, I’ll stop. 

God, the autopsy/dive scene…. Collins being lowered down and entering the water paralleled with Goodsir’s initial cutting into Young’s corpse, the breaking up of the ice paralleled with the cutting of the bone-saw. But most significant to me is the parallel of what is seen/not seen and the long-term effect that this has. Collins sees Orren’s corpse (and then presumably never tells anyone about it), reinforcing his guilt over Orren’s death, the beginning of his mental health decline. Goodsir doesn’t see the cause of Young’s death in his autopsy and this not knowing about the lead poisoning until it’s too late to do anything about it is the cause of many of Goodsir’s later problems as well. And, to finish it all off, both the autopsy and Collins’ dive were ultimately for nothing (considering a spinning propeller is useless when your ships are frozen in). 

Crozier and Blanky’s simultaneous face journeys as Sir John rambles on about how there’s nothing to worry about and they’ll find the passage any day now are truly legendary.

I wrote some pretty extensive tags on this already but man… Crozier’s comment about how not all of Sir John’s men returned from one of his previous arctic expeditions is just so nasty and awful. Like, yes, Sir John is wrong to undersell the danger they’re in and Crozier is advocating for the correct position here, but that was completely uncalled for and horrible to say, particularly in a command meeting, in front of so many people. And Sir John looks legitimately upset by it too. He gets over it quickly, at least on the outside, but I still feel really bad for him (and I NEVER feel bad for Sir John so this is weird for me).

“But of course we will not be abandoning Erebus, or Terror…” Let’s check back in six episodes and see how that’s going! 

Crozier slamming his fist on the table to prove he’s not being melodramatic reminds me of this one post (that I sadly can’t find rn) about Jesus Christ Superstar that’s like “‘CUT OUT THE DRAMATICS’ Judas hollered dramatically.” It’s such an Overall Mood.

I don’t have a developed commentary on this at the moment but it’s an interesting reverse-parallel that Sir John had no concern for Young’s well-being when he was alive, ignoring Crozier’s concerns about moving him from ship-to-ship when he was in such poor health, yet now that he’s dead, Sir John is the one to recommend that Young be buried which Crozier is surprised by, and seems to feel is unnecessary.

There’s been so much amazing commentary already made about Young’s burial scene so I’ll skip it except to say that Hickey’s irritated sigh when he hears footsteps coming towards the grave is SO funny. That’s exactly how I feel when I know that someone is about to tell me something that will annoy me.

Goodsir was really getting into the emotion of Sir John’s “eulogy”/motivational speech before he remembered the promise he made about Young’s ring. Also, what triggered his memory was Sir John saying “We shall earn our loved one’s cheers and embraces,” so no doubt a reminder of the traumatic “Your loved ones will be there in Heaven to welcome you! :)” “I never knew my mother or father” exchange (or maybe just a reminder of the fact that he was supposed to get Young’s ring to his sister but just let me scrape a little humor out of this. God knows I need it).

The shot of Bryant praying in his hammock the night before they get completely frozen-in is honestly deeply upsetting to me. Especially considering he’s a marine so he Did Not Ask To Be Here, yet there he’ll die.

According to Melville, ship’s compasses occasionally spun round-and-round when a ship was caught in a severe storm and this was an incredibly upsetting thing to behold because of how disorienting it was. So, considering that, Fitzjames keeps his composure pretty well but he clearly has some reservations about how things are going and Sir John has no comforting-sounding remark about ‘Magnetic North’ to offer him now.

The bit where Sir John “sees” Crozier, on Terror, turn away from him with a half-smirk on his face is interesting because there’s no way he could have possibly seen Crozier’s expression at that distance and I’m doubtful that he’d even have been able to make out the identity of anyone he might have been able to see on Terror’s deck. So really, it speaks mostly to Sir John’s mental state; his seeing their getting frozen in as a loss against Crozier and imagining that Crozier would see it as a victory for himself.

Ugh the final shot is making me think about @catilinas’s post comparing a shot of the two ships stuck in to the shot of the ink drops from ep 3 and I am LOSING IT but I was losing it anyway because it’s 2AM now and my entire body feels like gelatin. 

THANK YOU AND GOODNIGHT! 

SEE YOU NEXT TIME!