#do you ever think about how like. as an adult woman. six minutes is kind of a long time to sit on the floor crying

[marvelmaniac715]

This is part two of my multi chapter human!Seed au. In this chapter, Glen (well, Boy, but you know who he is) meets his parents! It plays out quite differently to the film, but I like to think I’ve kept the spirit of the scene, but they don’t argue about gender, not yet. Instead, they argue about Glen’s name. It may seem quite unrealistic that they realise that Glen is their child so quickly, but I don’t see any other way to write it, it’s easier to write about dolls, I’m discovering. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter :).

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Boy was incredibly nervous. He’d been waiting for this moment his entire life, he was finally going to meet his parents (hopefully). Would they even like him? It would be a difficult adjustment for all of them, especially Girl, his twin despised change of any kind. But Boy was determined to make this work, all he wanted was a normal childhood.

With a big breath in, Boy opened the door. The man he hoped was his father (Chucky, he remembered) was smoking on a small couch. The minute he caught sight of Boy he groaned and stood up.

“Oh for the love of- Tiff, another one got in! Look kid, I’m kinda busy, I don’t know how you got in, we really should lock that door. But I don’t have time to sign any autographs or take any pictures, got it? Where is she- Tiff? Get in here!”

That was a little bit frightening. To Boy‘s dismay, he was already being rejected. A deep sadness sunk to the bottom of of his stomach as he tried not to cry. He was only six years old, he didn’t have the emotional depth or range to process something like this, not at his age.

The woman from the video (Tiff, and hopefully his mother) walked in, rolling her eyes and reading a magazine.

“Chill out, I’m here. What’s wrong?”

It was only at this point that she dropped the magazine and looked down at Boy. All at once, her attitude changed. She gasped and rushed up to Boy, putting a concerned hand on his shoulder and gently taking hold of his chin to get a closer look at him.

“Oh, you poor thing! You can’t be anymore than eight years old! What are you doing here? Where’s your mommy and daddy?”

Boy didn’t speak. He wasn’t quite sure what to say at this point. This woman was so nice to him, and she barely knew him. This was the kindest person that Boy had ever met, nobody had ever gently held him and expressed concern about him. Even if this wasn’t his mother, Boy decided that he would beg her to adopt him and his Twin.

Chucky walked over and awkwardly ruffled Boy’s hair, attempting an awkward smirk.

“Hey sport, I didn’t quite get a proper look at you before, I didn’t realise you were just a baby. You really shouldn’t be alone though, there’s some really bad guys nearby, you should probably go back home.”

Boy finally gathered the courage to speak.

“I don’t have a home.”

Both Chucky and Tiff (that name seemed wrong, but it was the only one Boy had) gasped. Tiff knelt down and pushed Chucky aside, cupping Boy’s face in her hands, looking very worried now.

“You don’t have a home? What sort of parents wouldn’t provide a home for their child? And you’re only little two, I’m so sorry.”

Chucky had walked away by now, and was leaning against a doorway, a quizzical expression on his face.

“Yeah, that’s all very well, but what brought you here of all places? And you’re British? Why is nobody talking about that? This country had a whole revolution to get you guys out of here!”

Tiff stood up and sighed, turning to scold Chucky yet again.

“Chucky, he’s a child, you can’t keep-‘

At this moment, Boy raised his wrist, displaying his birthmark. The adults stopped arguing and stared at him, mouths gaping open. Chucky raised his own arm and looked at his wrist. Then he walked up to Boy and gently held his small, bony wrist in his large hand to compare the birthmarks. Tiff bent down to get a closer look and gasped.

“Oh my god…”

Chucky sat down on the floor and looked up at Tiff in disbelief.

“No, I didn’t, we didn’t…”

Tiff rushed over to Boy and hugged him into her side, beaming with a newfound joy.

“Chucky… remember that night, nine months before we got arrested?”

Chucky frowned, suddenly understanding. 

“But Tiff, you would’ve known. Pregnancy is famously something that doesn’t go unnoticed.”

“Well I noticed a bit of bloating, but the pregnancy test I got came back negative. It must have been a fake negative because we have a son.”

There was a moment of silence. Then Boy spoke.

“I saw you both in an interview on the tv, I noticed the birthmark. I climbed into a delivery box and somehow managed to end up in America. Are you my parents?”

Chucky looked down at the floor and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Uh, it would appear so, kid. What’s your name?”

Boy grinned, excited that he finally had a family. But he had no name. Could he make one up? No, he didn’t want to start his new life with lies. He just had to tell the truth.

“I don’t have one. Everyone calls me ‘Boy’.”

The looks he got in return were incredulous. Then his father (father!!!) snorted, trying to hide his laugh.

“What, so you’ve just gone through life with no name? I’m sorry, but- that’s just ridiculous!”

Boy’s mother (he had a mother now) squeezed his shoulder and sighed.

“Chucky, give Maximilian a break. He has a name now, don’t you sweetie?”

Was Maximilian his new name? His father apparently didn’t think so, judging by the cackle he let out.

“Maximilian? Are you shitting me right now? C’mon, you’ve gotta be kidding Tiff. We are not calling my son something stupid like Maximilian.”

So he was nameless again?

“Well what are we gonna call him then?”

“I dunno, maybe Charles Ju-‘

“If you say Charles Junior I’m gonna slap you. I’m not kidding.”

Maximilian wasn’t a bad name, but it didn’t feel right.

“Maybe we could call him… Glen?”

Boy’s mother sighed, glaring at his father.

“Glen?”

“It’s either that or Charles Junior, take your pick Mama Bear.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why? It’s funny.”

“You call me that and I’ll call you Papa Bear.”

“Oh, I hear it now.”

“Why Glen?”

“If you have to know, it was my grandfather’s name.”

“Oh, great. So now we’re naming our son after some dead old guy you hated anyway.”

“He was a wonderful father to my mother, and she made my promise that I’d name my first son after him-‘

“Didn’t you kill your mother?”

‘You know it was self-defence and that I loved her! I swear, you bring this up every time!”

Boy had to stop this. He hated to see his family arguing, so he needed to intervene.

“I like that name!”

The arguing stopped. Boy (Glen, now)’s father grinned at him. 

“Kid has taste.”

Before any more could be said, there was a knock at the door.

“Room service!”

Glen’s mother and father looked over at him, then looked back at each other. Then Glen’s father made a shooing gesture at him, directing him towards a corner.

“Nobody knows you exist kid, go hide, alright?”

His mother nodded, and added her own warning.

“Run, Max!”

There was nearly another argument, but then the door opened. A studio employee came in with a cart of food and beverages. At first things seemed fine, but then Glen’s father discovered a can of beer from a brand that he hated, and he glared at the trembling employee. 

“What is this shit?”

The employee stuttered as he tried to speak.

“I-it’s beer. I’m so sorry Mr Ray, but we’ve r-run out of the one you like.”

It was almost like Glen’s dad’s hackles had raised. The situation suddenly seemed very dangerous. His mother slowly crept up behind the employee, and she shared a look with Chucky, nodding and smirking. She pulled something out of her pocket. It gleamed in the light. It looked like… no, it couldn’t be a knife, could it?

“Looks like I can’t drink, doesn’t it pal?”

The employee was close to weeping. He felt trapped, but there was nowhere he could go.

“N-no, you obviously can’t sir. I’m so sorry, I-I’ll get you another can, I’ll go to the store-‘

“Oh no, don’t trouble yourself, I’ll just have to give my other favourite job oh a shot, won’t I?”

“W-what other hobby would that be sir?”

Chucky smirked.

“Sudoku.”

Then he nodded to Tiffany, who slit the man’s neck from behind. At the front, Chucky snapped the man’s neck, grinning when his fingertips came away covered in blood. He licked some off of his fingers as Glen heaved from the corner he was hiding in. He even peed himself a little bit. What was going on?

As the light left the young man’s eyes, he slumped to the ground, dead. Caught up in the moment, Glen’s mother and father embraced, kissing each other passionately. Close to sobbing, the only thing the now stunned Glen could think was:

“They’re stark raving mad!”

[meadowmines]

OC-tober Day 1: Childhood

oh let's just start right off with a gut punch because none of these bastards had a happy one :)

[cw: Aoyagi's shitty parents]

---

Put that back. That's for boys.

Aoyagi overhears someone say that to her kid at Poppo one afternoon and his bro has to grab him by the shoulders and steer him outside and sit there on a bench with him until he calms down enough to explain exactly why that phrase made him see red.

How many times did he hear that one? Sure, this is the first time he's heard it in Japanese but it still hits the same as every time one of his parents said it, doesn't it?

How many times? At least once every trip to K-mart or Toys 'R Us or the mall or anywhere that had toys or magazines or sports shit or clothes or basically anything a six-year-old kid might want or need, he figures. Sometimes the thing he picked up wasn't even an action figure or a cap gun or anything like that. Sometimes they'd just straight up lie about what made a thing for boys. Like the cool pair of sneakers he wanted that one time. Did you know boys have extra bones in their feet and boy shoes will deform your delicate girl-shaped feet? Shit, he believed that one until he was well into his teens.

Bachan still rolled her eyes when his parents did this shit in front of her, still told them to be glad their kid was smart and mostly stayed out of trouble and find some better hills to die on than clothes or toys, still bought him whatever he wanted when she took him to the toy store or whatever and watched wrestling with him on Saturdays and kept a stash of good fighty manga phonebooks at her house for him. Did she know she actually had a grandson? Or was she just a tomboy herself in her younger days? Or maybe she just didn't like her daughter-in-law much. It didn't matter. Halfway through the summer before seventh grade, Bachan died and Aoyagi lost the only adult in his life who saw him as a person and not some kind of dressup doll.

By that point his dad had mostly, aside from lukewarm token complaints, decided to take his mom's advice and give up trying to steer Aoyagi towards the girl shit. His mom, on the other hand, doubled right the fuck down, almost the minute they set her mother-in-law's ashes on the mantel. You're a young woman, she told him while she made a point of throwing out everything in his closet that he didn't hate, right in front of him. It's time you started looking and acting like one.

And now literally everything he liked was for boys. Chess was for boys. Video games were for boys. The books he read, the TV shows he watched, the movies he wanted to see, the activities he filled his spare time with--the only thing he ever did that she didn't bitch about was bake and she even had some shit to say about how he was decorating his fucking cakes. And now even some of the clothes in the girls' department weren't for girls enough to make her happy. Everything in his closet was pink or pastel or had ruffles and bows and shit on it. She chewed him out when he didn't wear makeup and she chewed him out for doing it wrong when he did and she chewed him out for not fixing his hair right and she chewed him out for asking how to fix his hair right because apparently he was just supposed to fucking know and she chewed him all the way out when he asked if he could please just go get a bob or a pixie or something he wouldn't have to spend an hour fucking with every single morning. The harder he tried, the more she yelled at him for having to try in the first place.

Just look like a girl! she hollered. Why is this so hard? Why do you have to TRY? What's wrong with you?

Sitting here telling his brother why that one stupid phrase made him see red feels like ripping the scar tissue off all over again. He almost cries. Almost. "Almost," not because he thinks Nishida would give him a hard time about it (Nishida would give him the exact opposite of a hard time about it), not because he's afraid of what might happen if this got back to the boss (the boss once looked him dead in the eye and said, in so many words, I don't know who the fuck told ya men don't cry but they're chock full o' shit.) "Almost," just because "almost" is as close as he ever comes. He's probably got some shit to unpack about that, but this isn't the time or the place.

When he reaches a point where he's got nothing left to say about it, Nishida pats him on the shoulder and goes back into the store. He comes out a few minutes later with snacks and sodas for both of them... and the biggest shonen action manga phonebook he could find on the rack.

[awesomerextyphoon]

Home for Christmas

This is my first entry for the wonderful @navybrat817​, @stargazingfangirl18​, and @donutloverxo​’s Happy Hoelidays Challenge!

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky x Black!Reader (Fem)

Summary: You got screwed this holiday season. Thankfully, someone decided to give you a break.

Rating: 18+/Explicit

Word Count: 2,211

Warning: Unprotected Smut (wrap it before you tap it!), Oral (f and m receiving), Fluff, Angst, Talks of Anxiety

A/N:  Not gonna lie, I feel a little intimidated by all of the amazing writers participating. So let me throw my hat into the ring, so to speak. Dividers are by the lovely @firefly-graphics​. Check them out!

Back to Masterlist

“You have until the end of the month.”

“Okay, thanks.” You could barely keep your voice together you were so distraught.

You lost your job and your apartment all in the same week. You had used up most of your savings paying your grandmother’s medical bills. Your anxiety had gone through the roof since you got the pink slip yesterday. Now, six weeks till Christmas, you have to ask (beg) your friends if you can couch surf until you can get back on your feet.

You told your therapist that your anxiety had spiked to uncomfortable levels. You could barely sleep at night and you’ve had trouble concentrating on simple tasks. It felt like the world was closing in and you were helpless to stop it.

You hoped that something would give.

  Bucky was coming back from an outing with Sam when he spotted you fumbling with your keys with tears streaming down your face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Startled, you swiveled your head, “Oh Bucky! How are you?”

“I’m fine. So, do you want to talk?”

Your lower lip quivered and the dam broke,” I lost my job yesterday, all my savings went to my aunt’s medical bills, and my landlord said I have to leave at end of the month!” you sobbed as Bucky pulled you in for a hug.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Bucky cooed as he rubbed circles onto your back.

“It’s not, but thanks.” you choked out trying to compose yourself.

It would seem that fate thought it right to mock him today. Brock got another compliment for his work and the love of his life was about to be on the streets.

Though Bucky shouldn’t be surprised that you knew next to nothing about his feelings with him being too cowardly to tell you. They first came ten months ago at a get-together Sam roped him into attending. He was enraptured by your kindness and sharp wit, plus it didn’t hurt that you were breathtakingly beautiful and your cookies were heavenly. The two of you quickly became friends going to movies, museums, and adult arcades. You were exceedingly kind and understanding even when Bucky showed you his prosthetic arm.

He wanted to go further, but he didn’t want to ruin his friendship with you.

Though, maybe…

“I was wondering, would you like to stay at my apartment ‘til you get back on your feet? It has three bedrooms and two bathrooms so you won’t be ‘invading or unwelcome’. I know you’re thinking about it.”

“But what about the re-”

“No. It’s fine. You said it yourself. You need to rest and regroup.” He was going to be fine, he was the CTO of SHIELD Inc. Both Steve and Sam have stated that he should move to a condo or a penthouse, but he’s glad that he never listened.

You nodded your head and sighed,” Okay.”

Bucky grinned, “Good. Though it’s not for free. Your payment will be in your ‘out of this world’ cooking.”

You giggled, “It’s a deal!”

  You moved in three days later. It was delightful to not have the threat of financial instability peering over your shoulder.

It didn’t take long for you to settle into a routine. You woke up around 7 AM, did some exercises and meditation, made breakfast, had a nice conversation w/Bucky, did some job searching, researched different recipes to try out, baked some desserts for Bucky to share with his team, cook dinner, had a nice chat w/Bucky over dinner and wine, and Bucky would do clean up with a movie.

Both Bucky and your therapist noticed your dramatic increase in your mental and emotional health.

Your aunt noticed how serene you looked when finally had the chance to visit her. She also teased you about Bucky and how cute the two of you would look.

You deflected your aunt in good jest, but she was not wrong. You had started to see Bucky in a new light. He was devastatingly handsome, sexy even. He was tall (6’3” / 1.9m), broad shoulders and muscular arms that you always loved to be enveloped in, eyes like the Mediterranean after a storm, luxurious dark Chestnut brown that was delightful to the touch, and a soft, protruding belly that was perfect for cuddling (though Bucky was insecure about it though). He was your own giant teddy bear who you would love to love (and fuck).

Maybe the two of you could be something more.

  “You have to tell her, Buck.”

Bucky groaned internally at yet another one of Steve’s interventions. He hasn’t been able to focus at work since you’ve moved in with him. Sam was constantly calling him out on it, and now Steve has weighed in on the issue.

“C’mon, you need to let her know how you feel. Otherwise, you’re taking advantage of her spectacular cooking and baking skills.” Sam exclaimed while biting into a Levain Style Toffee Crunch Cookie.

Bucky knew that he should say something. He was planning on telling you on Christmas Eve about the gift he bought you last week.

Now, all he needed was courage.

“She probably feels the same way, Bucky. There’s no way she would’ve stayed with you this long if she didn’t like you.” Sam added while going for his third Salted Caramel Brownie.

“I know. It’s just that she deserves someone better.”

Steve scoffed, “For fuck’s sake, man! You are smart, caring, and funny! Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You have a lot to offer!”

Bucky gave Steve a smile, “Thanks, Stevie.”

“Sure. Now move over, I want some of those brownies.”

  Christmas Eve dinner was going well.

You were able to visit your aunt two days prior to which she teased you about Bucky yet again. You didn’t dare to bring up the sex dreams and times you masturbated in the shower wishing it was Bucky giving you such sensations.

You were biting into your teriyaki-glazed salmon when Bucky cleared his throat, “What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I’ve been such a coward,” Bucky uttered.

You put down your utensils, “Bucky-”

“No. I-I love you.”

What?

“I’ve loved you since that get together ten months ago,” You smiled at the memory,” I saw this kind, funny, beautiful woman who was amazing and was willing to put up with a loser like me. I know that I’m not in your league-”

You stood up,” Bucky, you’re not a coward and you’re not a loser. You have been nothing but kind and understanding this last few weeks. You let me stay with you when I was barely hanging on financially. You’ve respected my space without expecting anything in return. I know I’m not the best roommate, but-”

You were cut off by Bucky enveloping you in a tight hug, “Thank you,” he breathed.

Glancing up at him, you whispered, “I love you too.”

Bucky gathered his courage and captured your lips in a searing kiss. The kiss sent a bolt of electricity throughout your body. After a few moments, you pulled away and licked your lips in excitement.

“May I kiss you again?”

“Please.”

  The two of you were a tangled mess of limbs once you reached his bedroom. Bucky ripped off your top and chuckled at your attempt to cover yourself,” You have nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart.”

You backed onto the bed with a grin, unable to hide your giddiness as Bucky’s eyes darkened with lust and the look on his face was not unlike that of an apex predator.

Bucky took things slow, wanting to savor this moment. He worked you from top to bottom at an agonizingly slow pace. Soft, open-mouthed kisses marked his path smirking in pride at the sound of your moaning and squirming with each caress.

“Bucky please,” you begged as Bucky made his way to your chest.

Bucky tutted in response, “Let me adore you, love,” as he covered your breasts with hickeys, pinching and sucking your nipples, relishing the sounds of your moaning and mewling. He smirked at your praises as he made his way to your stomach.

He made sure to give your midsection extra love and care, “Utter perfection,” Bucky murmured as he kissed a stretch mark near your hipbone. Your heart soared at the declaration. You’ve never had a partner who complimented you let alone give you the time of day let alone a partner who actually put your needs first.

And in such a delicious manner.

Bucky was about to go in on your thighs when you stopped him,” Please, let me,” you panted as you got off the bed and undid his belt. You bit your lower lip once you got back his boxers.

He was a lot bigger than you thought.

“You sure about this, doll?” Bucky asked amusedly taking in your raised eyebrows and a sly grin.

Nodding eagerly, you laid your head in his awaiting lap and gave his dick an open-mouthed kiss followed by a long, slow lick to his weeping tip.

You were careful not to go too deep, not wanting a repeat of that one Spring Break. “Fuck, doll,” Bucky praised as you worked his dick like a lollipop. You alternated between playing with his balls and sucking on what you could fit in your mouth.

Bucky bellowed when you lightly scraped him with your teeth. He never thought that someone like you would give him the time of day. Ever since Bucky left the Army, it seemed that no one would even look at him, even before they knew about the prosthetic left arm. He was about to give up all hope of finding anyone who accepts him when you came into his life. You were his light, but you were not afraid to be imperfect. He could be vulnerable with you in a way that he has never been with anyone, even Stevie.

You continued your ministrations for a couple more minutes until Bucky gently tugged your hair, “Sorry doll, I won’t make it if keep workin’ me like this, and I want to give you my first gift this evening.”

You pouted but relented as Bucky motioned you back to the bed. You parted your legs and moaned when Bucky gave your slit a long, slow lick after kissing and nipping your inner thighs.

“Better than any baked good. Fuck! I could get addicted to this!” You giggled at the statement loving the praise.

Bucky attacked your folds with a masterfully executed battle plan. He switched between licking and sucking your clit with insane precision, scissoring your folds with his thick fingers (sometimes metal ones), and playing with your juices.

You were on Cloud Nine. Each of his movements sent wave after wave of euphoria throughout your body. Bucky’s tongue and fingers made your hair stand on end and bolts of electricity shot through your veins and danced along your skin. You grabbed a fistful of his luxurious hair and arched your back towards him.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” Bucky rumbled.

The dam broke.

“Bucky!” you shouted as Bucky lapped up your juices and crawled up to caress your face.

“You sure you want this, doll?” Bucky asked.

“Please Bucky,” You begged as he pushed himself into you inch by inch pausing once he filled you.

“So fucking tight!” Bucky breathed huskily.

“Bucky. I. Need. You.” You murmured between kisses to his neck and jaw. He started out at a slow pace, making sure you were used to his size but he intensified his thrusts once you began moaning in pleasure and begged him to go harder.

Each thrust hit you just right, sending you higher and higher, but Bucky made sure not to send you over the edge (not yet). He decided to add to your sweet, sweet torture by kissing your neck, shoulders, and collarbone. You didn’t know how much you could take, but at the same time, you didn’t want to end.

Thankfully, Bucky heard your mental pleas. He worked your clit and you came with another shout as he nipped the juncture between your neck and collarbone. Bucky came soon after with a primal roar.

Laying on Bucky’s bed and looking out the window, you saw a thick yet gentle snowfall. You were about to make a nice (if not a little snarky) Christmas remark when you felt a weight on your chest. Casting your eyes downward you found a silver snowflake on a thick silver chain with sapphires in the middle and on each of its six points. It was beautiful.

You nearly swiveled your head in shock. “Bucky you di-”

Bucky caressed your cheek and kissed you, “You’ve been so kind to me since we’ve met and I wanted to give you something as wonderful as you.”

“Well, since you put that way. I guess you’ll have to wait until tomorrow for your present.” you teased.

Bucky snaked his right arm around your midsection, “It might not be ‘til Noon at best. I’m gonna need another round.” he crooned as he kissed your neck.

Part of you wondered what the hell all those people were thinking when they didn’t give Bucky a second glance. Well, it matters not. Bucky was yours and you would be damned before you let him go.

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[nanaminokanojo]

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 8/8 [COMPLETED]

CHARACTERS: Nanami Kento X You (fem!reader | PLEASE READ THE NOTES BELOW*) | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Utahime Iori | other JJK Characters CHAPTER COUNT: 8/8 WORD COUNT: 4, 800+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | smut | ooc depictions | female reader with described appearance* | modern au | rich people au | aged up characters CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity | age gap | cigarette smoking | strong/mature/suggestive language | alcohol use SPOILERS: n/a STATUS: COMPLETED

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight (final)

"Play the Game" Masterlist

You stood by the door, watching the chaos in your brother’s bedroom as he prepared for his wedding at sunset, waiting for everyone to leave so you can finally speak to him in private. He was, after all, the only one in the family you cared for enough to inform him of your decisions.

People always say you and Gojo were similar. However, those very things that made you alike also set you apart. Besides the platinum white hair and remarkable blue eyes you shared – unique even within the clan – being the absolute obvious, the similarities stopped there.

You siblings were supposed to be akin to one another, but the same things they loved about your brother were the same things people abhorred about you. You and your brother were both prodigies. He was richer than the whole clan, all assets combined being the successful businessman he was ever since he was in his teens. It was as freakish as it was awe-inspiring. You were an artist of great renown with your multi-million dollar pieces and the youngest to have been dubbed as a national artist when you were the same age as him.

But where he basked in fame and acclaim, your prominence was fueled by infamy. Gojo built an empire that served as one of the pillars of the local economy. You produced artistic pieces that inspired execration and controversy. Undeniably brilliant, yes, but absolutely contentious.

Your brother was kind. In fact, he was the best older brother one could ever ask for, and that was not lip service nor was it because of your biases towards him. You can never discount how caring he is to you, how hard he tries to make you happy and how he would go through lengths as to be the idiot just to satisfy your whims. He was just genuinely good-natured although he appeared somewhat insouciant. He had his evil streak, too, which is established in the clan, but his goodness radiated like a light that followed him wherever he went.

However, you have long accepted that your side which reflected Gojo in every way when you were younger had long died. Altruism wasn’t one of your strongest suits and you were only ever affectionate to people you had deep, deep fondness for. And that wasn’t even something common. Even your parents had always been the receiving end of your lackadaisical attitude.

He attracted people, you repelled them. Being surrounded by the good people he called friends was a testament to that no matter how vexing his personality was, and more people want to be near him. Apart from your three friends, you didn't make any more and your school life sucked because majority of your classmates hated you. For what, you didn't know. You don’t think you will ever understand.

It was your seven-year gap that made all the difference, you liked to think. It was much easier to swallow than the concept of the whole cosmos conspiring to create two creatures to be equals but of the opposite nature. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be that way, but you will always be the one looking up to him regardless if you did not choose the same path as his; regardless of whether there were no comparisons with what either of you endeavored to do.

And above everything else, you loved Satoru very much.

“Got a minute?” You began, standing before him in front of the mirror. It was rather annoying watching him struggle with the cufflinks, and you didn’t think he would manage to fix the bowtie still hanging loosely on his neck. Thus, you thought of taking charge. “Give it here.”

Gojo was surprised, but he was nonetheless happy. He wore his heart on his sleeve after all, and you could only guess it was that vulnerability he risked showing that attracted people to him. You have only learned the intricacies of such a matter recently, something you had to agree with since it all made perfect sense.

“Thank you,” he said, tilting his head to the side, watching you work on his cuffs.

“You’re really getting married, huh?” you began, feeling yourself start to falter, but you have decided. You may not have gotten him the best wedding gift materially speaking, but you swore to let him in on what was going on with you, to be honest with him like you hadn’t been for the longest time. “Who would have known?”

“Am I finally getting that emotional pre-wedding sibling talk?” he asked, walking towards the seats by the window and looking out into the garden.

“You’re getting married, not being sent away to prison. I don’t even understand why this happens during weddings,” you quipped, sighing. “But I guess you could call it that.”

He smiled at you, patting the space beside him. You did as you were told, assuming the spot, but also looking out the window, watching as the organizers made finishing touches to the garden below. No expense was spared to make the occasion as perfect as it could get. You couldn’t argue with it. Gojo deserved the best, and to him, Utahime did, too.

“I’m waiting,” he said, breaking the silence that had befallen the room. “You’ve been pacing before the door for god knows how long when you should have been getting ready.”

“I got ready much faster than you did.”

“And you look beautiful.” He tilted his head to the side, eyeing you appreciatively. “Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re all grown up. And what a beautiful woman you’ve become.”

You smirked. “You’re looking at your mirror image after all.”

“Well, there’s that, of course.” He laughed slightly. “But I’m not just saying that because we’re basically the same person. You really are beautiful, baby sis.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, opting for it instead of his usual choice of mussing your hair since it has already been styled for the wedding.

You just shook your head. “Thank you, Satoru.”

“So, what did you want to talk about exactly?”

“The other day…” Your voice trailed off, thinking about what to say. It wasn’t that way before between you and your brother. He was always the easiest person to talk to, always open minded and optimistic about matters. But now that you were going to discuss something that he had vocally opposed, you were a bit scared of saying anything. Nevertheless, it wouldn’t do Nanami justice if you decided to hold back now, considering that he was more than ready to speak to your brother.

You’ve both initially decided to sit Gojo down and tell him about your decisions together, but you informed Nanami earlier in the day that you needed to have a proper conversation with him first. It wasn’t just your choice to be with Nanami that was the matter, and you wanted to get things straightened out with Gojo before he gets married.

“Yes?” he prompted.

“You said I don’t talk enough to you; that I don’t tell you things anymore.”

Gojo slowly nodded.

You breathed out. “Things changed. We can’t deny that. I grew up and you…well, you’ve decided you want to spend your life with Iori and build your own family.” Your lips curled up awkwardly as you tried to keep your emotions at bay. It was new territory having such talks with him when you’re used to your easy-going dynamic with him. “I’m scared, too. I mean, I can’t just bother you anytime anymore cause you’ll have your wife and eventually children to pay attention to and prioritize.”

He was taken aback by what you said, immediately drawing closer. “What are you saying, Y/N? You’re my sister. Nothing will change –”

“Our bond will not change, dude, but you have to admit that what I’m saying is true.” You took his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. You beamed at the fact that your fingers were structured in the same tapered manner as his. Even the shape of your fingernails were the same, just that his hands were bigger than your delicate ones. “What I’m saying is that even if you need to do that, I will be fine.”

“Of course, you will be. You’re my sister, and above that, you are your own person, and you’re stronger than you think. You’ve been handling things on your own for as long as I can remember.” He pouted, trying to act cute with you. “It’s disappointing, to be honest, because you’ve never really given me the chance to play my role in your life because you’re always the mature one.”

You were confused now. “What are you on about? You’re my only brother, but I can’t imagine anyone else holding that position in my life. You’re the best I could have asked for. I’ve always looked up to you. You’re my role model.”

“I am?”

“Yeah. The fuck are you so surprised for?” You snickered. “That aside, if you felt like I’ve been leaving you out, that’s not the intention at all. I always want you to be the first one to know what’s going on with my life…”

He clucked his tongue. “I understand you’re not doing it on purpose, kid. I’m just worried that you didn’t think I’m worth telling anything because, well, I’m not exactly a proper adult, am I?”

“You’re realizing that now that you’re about to get married?” you taunted him, jabbing your thumb towards the direction of the garden. “Should I tell Iori to call this whole thing off?”

He waved you aside. “Hey, don’t say that!”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Anyway, there’s something I wanted to tell you for a while now.”

“How long is a while, exactly?”

“Years and years.” You flashed him a rueful smile. “I just couldn’t figure out how to tell you because I am not exactly sure how you feel about it although you’ve told me many times you were opposed to it. What I’m saying it that, I know that fact, but it’s the motivation behind it that is beyond my knowledge.”

Gojo’s eyes rounded, realizing what you were saying. “Are you…”

You nodded. “Yes, I am talking about Kento.”

He just blinked and stood up, pacing around in front of you for a while that you had to stop him from doing it. He had such a bad habit of doing that when he is in deep thought, and always in front of you, too. He was making you dizzy.

You seized him by the wrist. “Please say something.”

“I…”

“Why are you opposed to it?”

He stopped pacing and faced you, taking you by the shoulders, his eyes starting to water. “Y/N…”

“Oh no, are you gonna cry?”

He furiously blinked his tears back, the action almost comical if it weren’t for the serious look on his face. “Because you are my little sister. You think it will be easy for me to just hand you over to anyone? My friends aren’t exceptions to that although I trust them with everything that I have. I will always, always worry about you when it comes to that matter because I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want you to be taken advantage of, and I don’t want to have to break either Suguru or Kento’s bones when the time comes.”

“I can manage the latter on my own.” You sighed, finding your resolve strengthening. “But like you said, I’m this old now. I want you to understand that I know what I am doing and I am confident about my decisions. Honestly, I didn’t want to talk about this as if I am asking for your permission. This is what I meant when I said I will be fine. I am not saying you don’t have a say in my life, but I am telling you this time because I want you to know before anyone else does.”

“Suguru doesn’t know?” he asked, eyes sparkling.

“Don’t be petty. I tell him things I can’t tell you just like you tell him things you can’t tell me,” but you nodded anyway. “He doesn’t know yet…I think.”

“So…you and Kento…”

You nodded again. “I’m in love with him, Satoru. And he feels the same way.”

“You are?” His expressions softened, hugging you to him. “You’ve grown. Really grown.”

You returned the gesture, holding onto him tight. “Please don’t ever think that I am leaving you out of my life because I always want to tell you everything.”

Just then, he pulled back, his brows furrowing while his eyes narrowed at you. “So, why isn’t he the one telling me this? Where is that bastard?”

You shrugged. “He wants to be here. Trust me. I just asked him if I could talk to you first because I have issues to resolve with you apart from my relationship with him.”

Gojo exhaled, nodding in understanding. “I understand, Y/N. But are you certain?”

“Yes. I’m scared of hurting him, but I’ll do my best, I guess.”

“Hmm, yeah. Maybe you should tone down on your mischief, too. I don’t want him dying of stress because of you. He’s still precious to me.”

At that, you laughed. “I know.”

He poked you on the cheek. “Alright then. If that’s what makes you happy, I won’t stand in your way. You have my blessing.” His teeth clenched then. “But I’m still going to have to talk to him man to man in case he thinks he’s off the hook.”

“Worry about your wedding first,” you jibed.

“I almost forgot about that.”

“I’m telling Iori.”

He shook his head, feigning panic. “Don’t.”

You both ended up laughing, joking about the guests who were arriving at the garden, poking fun at the relatives you both detested but had no choice but to invite. Just like that, you were back to how it used to be, easily conversing and sharing the same sentiments about things and same penchant for devilry.

Soon, the organizer came to his room, informing him that he needed to go to the garden to prepare. You reached up and fixed his tie and jacket for him, holding him at arm’s length to appreciate your handiwork. “You’re all set.”

“Thank you.” He smiled wide but you saw the nervousness in his eyes. “I’m getting married!”

“You are.”

“I’m more anxious about seeing Kento after what you told me,” he stated dramatically.

You eyed him witheringly. “Shut up and pull yourself together.”

He snickered then. “Kidding. Let’s go.”

“Okay.”

The two of you walk to the garden, your arm around his. He stood at the spot just by the last row of seats with you, grinning at you when he saw you looking at Nanami who was already dutifully standing on his spot, speaking to Geto.

“Concentrate on your vows, yeah?” you told your brother.

“I’m off.”

“In case we don’t get to talk before you leave for your honeymoon,” you began, “Just know that I am waiting for the speedy arrival of my nieces and nephews.”

Gojo laughed at that, but nodded anyway and said, “I’ll do a good job, I promise.”

“And Satoru?”

“Yeah?”

“Love you.”

“I know, kid. I know.” He turned on his heels and walked towards his place at the front pews while you watched, his steps leading you towards the very man you would want to see standing there when the time comes, his halo of golden locks bright under the setting sun but you knew your future with him would be even more brilliant.

**

The familiar bars of Johann Pachelbel’s “Canon” began to play in a modified, slowed-down wedding version made especially for Gojo and Utahime’s wedding, played on the harp, piano and violin, cueing the beginning to the entrance of the bridal entourage. It began with the entrance of the flower girls who scattered petals of different flowers on the white carpet that lined the long aisle.

Arches and bouquets of flowers festooned the garden, with gossamer cloth hanging about, interlaced with live wisteria that hung down from the canopy along with fairy lights that progressively turned on as the sky grew darker. White and pink dominated the color palette as Utahime had wished and the same goes for the reception area. It was probably one of the most beautiful wedding setups Nanami has ever seen.

But his eyes weren’t on the ornaments. They were trained on the end of the walled garden, waiting for your ascent on the marble steps where the white carpet extended, the march made more dramatic by the organizers by opting for a meandering aisle instead of the traditional, straight walkway for the bride. And it did achieve the desired effect when you finally emerged from the steps and into view.

He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips upon finally seeing you clad in that familiar faded rose gown he had first seen being fitted on you to perfection. He kissed you while you wore that very article of clothing not long ago at the couturier’s shop, and though he thought back then that he has never seen anything more beautiful, he was amazed at the fact that you looked even more gorgeous in it as you glided towards the front.

He loved you so much it hurts, and although you’ve both professed your deep affections for one another and decided to take things head on together, he still felt like he was in the middle of a dream he didn’t want to wake up from. You came closer, and once more, he was back at the semi-outdoor ballroom the first day he came that week, beholding the goddess that was you but seemingly in a different light – brighter this time, overwhelming him to the point that he had to remind himself how to breathe when you finally looked his way and beamed unabashedly, your affections towards him unmasked, real and not under the guise of a game.

“Kento,” he heard Gojo say softly just then, the man’s blue eyes furtively glancing at him.

“Yes?” he answered in hushed tones.

“Hurt my baby sister and I’ll have your severed head hung by the gates of the estate,” he said. “Are we clear about that?”

Geto snickered, concealing it by facing the other way.

“Understood,” Nanami said seriously. “I’m counting on it.”

When you were near enough, you smiled at your brother and Geto before turning your attention to Nanami. You winked at him as you passed by before turning towards your spot opposite them across the aisle, your attention trained towards the point where you came from.

He couldn’t stop looking at you, not even when he felt Gojo hold onto his arm, squeezing tight as Utahime came into view. He didn’t mean to be insulting to his friends. She was beautiful in her wedding gown and he couldn’t help but be moved by the loving look that your brother had on his face as he watched his wife-to-be come closer, guided by her father who will give her away as the sun set. It was poetic. A new beginning after a beautiful end. He probably looked the same whenever his eyes would find you.

The ceremony carried on as everyone sat down, waiting for the couple to exchange their ‘I do’s.’ their vows, rings and the much-awaited kiss. It was making him emotional, thinking of the time when he himself would draw your veil and get to claim you as his for life in front of everyone you both loved and cared about. He couldn’t wait for it, and he may be getting ahead of himself, but he wanted what Gojo and Utahime had with you.

As the minister announced the pair man and wife, everyone applauded and cheered for them. He did so, too, chuckling when Geto whistled loudly, being his cheeky self. Just then, he nudged Nanami on the side, grinning impudently.

“Is it safe to assume you’re next?” he queried in the same manner.

Nanami rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Who knows? Someone might actually steal your heart in the next months and we’ll be seeing you crying as you watch your bride walk towards you by next year.”

Geto snickered at that. “Yeah, right. You looked like you wanted to jump Y/N and replace Satoru and Iori at the altar all this time.”

“Who wants to replace my brother and sister-in-law at the altar?” they heard you say, appearing out of nowhere, your head tilted to the side as you shifted your blue orbs between the two males, but before either of them could answer, you linked your arm with Nanami who smiled down at you blissfully. You returned the gesture, your cheeks blushing prettily under the twinkling lights overhead.

“I see you’ve figured things out.” Geto smirked, patting Nanami on the back just as Shoko came into view, taking the former by the arm, claiming she needed a smoke. She pulled him away, leaving you and Nanami to yourselves, winking as they walked away.

“So, you told him?” you asked, cocking your head towards the wide lawn where the pergolas were, built on three sides of the square and closed by an elevated area for the band, all surrounding a dance floor under a huge, white tent above, also adorned with thousands of lights. It was your design, solely for the wedding reception and a form of gift to the newlyweds.

“Satoru did indirectly when he said he’ll have my head hung at the gates of Gojo Manor if I hurt you.” He shook his head, laughing slightly. “Bastard had the gall to laugh at me, too.”

“He nearly cried when I told him earlier,” you said, regaling him with how your conversation with Gojo went. “He trusts you and is actually afraid I’ll hurt you, too.”

He shook his head. “It’s all part of the process, isn’t it?”

“Mhmm.”

“We’ll take it head on.” He held your hand, twining your fingers together.

You nodded, squeezing his larger hand. “We will.”

Just then, your friends emerged from the reception area with Noabara taking the lead, mischief drawn all over her face as she approached you. “I took care of the sitting arrangement,” she said to you then turned to Nanami. “Take care of Y/N. Make her cry and –”

“You’ll have my head?” Nanami supplemented but Nobara shook her head. “I’ll tan your hide. Satoru gets your head apparently.”

At that, Nanami laughed, nodding nonetheless. But to your surprise, she also turned her attention to you, holding you by the shoulders. “Are you still playing?”

“Nope.” You pressed your lips together, shaking your head slowly.

She smiled then. “Good.” She glanced at Nanami. “You’ve got you a good one here.”

“I know.”

They left you alone after that much to his relief, but then you said, “Wanna play a game?”

His eyes rounded and he felt tension again once he heard you say those familiar words, always the preamble to every single mischievous stunt you’ve ever pulled on everyone including him. He paused and looked at you. “I thought no more games?”

You smirked at him. “One more won’t hurt.”

He sighed, giving in. “You’re going to be the death of me, I swear to god.”

“So, are you in?”

“When did I ever say no to you?”

You giggled. “Great.”

“What is it about this time?” he asked, indulging you.

“Whoever gets a rise out of Satoru first wins.”

“The stakes?”

You just winked suggestively at him.

**

You forfeited. For the first time, you lost in your own game. It counted – albeit momentary – because you initiated the game…said the very words that began everything that paved the way to the result you’ve always wanted. But you did not really consider it a loss when for the long run, you’ve gained the very person you’d always gladly lose to at any given time.

After you father offered a toast for the newlyweds, the speeches began, starting with Utahime’s parents then yours, eventually moving on to you, then the bride and groom’s shared close friends. Geto had been rather irreverent as usual, pointing out the things that both Gojo and Utahime supposedly disliked from one another yet brought them closer, making everyone laugh when Shoko came up the stage and began her speech, saying, “Opposites do attract.”

You sat on your table with Nanami, both of you waiting for your turns. He was next in line after Shoko, smirking at you as he stood up and walked towards the platform and began his piece by congratulating Gojo, “for landing a very gracious woman who has the most enduring patience I have ever known in all mankind, given the grief that Ieiri, Suguru and I had to endure before Iori came to his life.”

He continued on with his witty address, pretty much reflecting what Suguru said and entertaining the crowd enough when he started to express his gratitude. “While I know that this changes nothing between us as the best of friends – including your nature that tested one’s forbearance – I would like to say thank you for many things. Thank you because you are, well, you…” He did a dramatic eye roll.

The guests laughed.

“Thank you because you are a real person who offered friendship to quiet, boring old me,” he said, droning on about the things he appreciated about the couple before saying the things he was thankful to Gojo about. “And thank you, because without you, without our friendship, I wouldn’t have met the very person I also want to walk this earth with for the rest of my life.”

You would have fallen off your seat when Megumi playfully nudged you if it weren’t for Yuuji who also held onto your shoulders from behind your seat, shaking you excitedly.

“If it weren’t for one Gojo Satoru, I wouldn’t have met Y/N.”

You felt all eyes turn towards you, including your parents and your brother, heat suffusing your cheeks as you tried hard to keep yourself from smiling like an idiot for everyone to see. Nanami has outdone you this time, and you knew you didn’t have a chance to go against that when he had so publicly expressed how he felt about you.

“I love her with everything that I am,” he continued, “and I will continue to do so even without your threat to behead me.” He raised his glass. “To Iori and Satoru. May you have the happiest, most prosperous married life from today and for always.”

Geto whistled loudly while the guests applauded. You also stood up, clapping your hands slowly as you shook your head. You’ve lost big time, backed by the fact that your brother stood up raising his glass as he said, “I couldn’t have wished for a better future brother-in-law.” He then looked at you, smiling fondly.

Nanami got Gojo to state his approval for everyone to hear. You can’t win against that even if you nearly made the latter cry.

And now, you were just happy to be in Nanami’s arms as he swayed you both to the tune the jazz band was playing, your arms hanging around his shoulders and your fingers playing with the hair at the base of his head while he held you against him by the waist.

“So?” Nanami began. “How’s that for a final game?”

“Not bad,” you acceded, smirking at him. “I’ll admit defeat.”

“Damn right, you are.” He smiled down at you, his dark eyes reflecting the muted, xanthic lights that surrounded you. “I have a couple of things I’d want you to do for me, by the way.”

You nodded slowly, keeping a straight face at the mention of his prize. “Rules are rules.”

His brows furrowed slightly. “Then again, you haven’t told me what you wanted when you won a week ago.”

You grinned, burying your face on his chest, listening to the faint sound of his heart. “But I did get what I want.”

“And that is?”

You met his gaze from under your lashes. “You,” you stated in full confidence.

Nanami nodded, suppressing a smile. “If you say so.”

“I wouldn’t wish for anything else.” You pulled him towards you so you could peck him on the mouth. “Thank you.”

“I don’t know what for, but as always, anything for you.”

You chuckled at that. Knowing him, he’ll make good on his words for sure, so much so that you didn’t feel the least bit of worry where your future with him was concerned. “You have to learn how to say no to me.”

“I guess, but since I won, have I finally made it to the list of people you don’t mess with?” he asked.

“As promised, yes.”

“No more games?”

“No more games,” you repeated. “Although I have to say it keeps things interesting between us. Don’t you think so?”

You both dissolved in laughter, the merry mingling of your voices coming to a standstill when he bent down and cupped your cheeks, running his thumb over your cheek before staking his claim on your lips while you returned the gesture in kind, locked in each other’s arms, glad you both played the game. And won.

-THE END-

I would like to say thank you to everyone who read this and kept up with my erratic updating. It's been a good 6 weeks. Thanks!

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S “JUJUTSU KAISEN.” [20210814]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

OH ANTONI 🥺🥺🥺 my poor baby. I hope he will find it within himself to come clean to Jake or SOMEONE about this :((((

(((ALSO CANT WAIT FOR MORR))))

One Two Three Four Five Six

CW: Wound cleaning, burns, touch aversion, aftermath of torture, BBU, conditioned fucky headspace

"Lift your chin for me," she commands, and he doesn't really remember that he could choose not to obey.

Antoni dutifully shifts, his eyes moving to roam over a line of framed photographs along the wall behind her. A wedding photo, faded with time, a much, much younger version of the woman currently dabbing a cotton ball dipped in something cold and stinging to the fresh burn on his throat with a man he's never seen. The two of them are smiling, holding hands, looking right into the camera.

Bright white wedding dress turned cream with yellowing paper, with time, covered in lace. Powder-blue tuxedo. Brilliant smiles.

She touches the cotton ball to his skin and he hisses, hands tightening where they grip the edges of the chair he's sitting on. The sting rockets through him, only a pale echo of the original pain, but it's enough.

It's enough.

Fuck, that's hot.

He catches the sob before it can leave his throat, forces the burn behind his eyes to stay there and not turn into tears. He will not cry over this again.

Not now.

"There we go, just a bit more," She says, her voice gruffly compassionate. She presses a small rounded bandage against his throat, her fingertips are warm against his neck.

His skin crawls at even this slight, indirect touch, but he doesn't protest.

He wouldn't dare.

"All done. That's not s'bad, I think with a good bandaging it won't scar half so bad as all its little friends down south," She mutters, more to herself than him, really.

Where her fingers touch, he feels the echoes of other hands around his throat. Thicker fingers, heavy with rings. Smiling down at him.

Beg for me, love.

"Please-" It's automatic. He's drifting, in and out of this old kitchen that still looks like it must have looked thirty years ago, when the man in the wedding photo would still be here maybe cooking or cleaning or chatting up a storm to anyone who popped by for a visit.

"Hm? You say something, sweetheart?" Miss Ruth looks at him, and those dark eyes are shrewd. They know more than anyone is supposed to, they know things Nat hasn't told her. Hasn't had to.

"Ah, no," He whispers. "Just. I am very tired."

"No doubt. I'll finish these up and you can get back to your own bed and no doubt you'll be glad to get there." She looks him over, and his eyes dance to hers and away again. Back to the photos.

He sees a family photo, the two people from before and a daughter and son. Everyone is smiling, looking carefully just off to the side. They wear matching outfits.

"Get a look at 'em?"

There's a 35th wedding anniversary picture with a big banner behind the happy couple. The two people, much older, stand in front a cake nearly as tall as they are, surrounded by others. Everyone in the photo smiles in sort of the same way.

The next photo is a birthday, he thinks. There's a boy and a young baby in the photo, and the man from wedding and anniversary photo isn't there. Miss Ruth, holding her grandbaby he thinks, is wearing all black. The photo was taken in a church, and there's a spray of white lilies just visible at the edge of the picture.

Another, with Jaden, who Chris plays basketball with. The kid who more or less effortlessly opened his life for Chris when Chris badly needed a friend his own age, or closer to it, to remember what being a kid was like.

He is reading, in images, the story of this woman's adult life. Marriage, and death, and birth. Children. Life going on.

A life he won't have, that he gave up every possibility of having, because of... of whatever is inside him that Mr. Davies knew about, that the people who just hurt him could see in him even though he cannot see it himself.

He must look like someone who deserves to be hurt.

"Young man." She taps on the back of his hand and he flinches, blinking at her, struggling to pull himself out of his reverie. Her words filter through his mind, shift into the language all his thoughts are moving in, come back out in hers. He swallows, feeling a lump in his throat that refuses to move.

"I'm... sorry," He says softly, with difficulty. "I did not hear."

"I can tell. I asked did you get a good look at whoever did this to you." Her eyes roam over his chest, his stomach. The circle of new burns, placed so carefully compared to the haphazard placement Mr. Davies had favored, no pattern at all. "Looks like they took their damn time, anyway, to get you so much."

"N-... no." Antoni's eyebrows furrow, and he tries to think, but all he can remember is their hands holding the lit cigarettes, the quiet one touching his face, ruffling his hair. He can't... he can't remember their faces at all. "I am sorry."

You're fucking gorgeous, buddy, you know that?

"Hm." If she's disappointed in him, nothing changes about her expression, still held in a kind of skeptical compassion as she wets a new cotton ball in liquid from a small frosted plastic bottle and touches it to each burn, one by one, in the circle. It's like a ritual, the sting, washing away a bit of sin with each hint of pain. He clothes his eyes and breathes carefully through it.

When he is done, each circle covered with a bandage that is shades darker than his skin, she steps back to look him over, critically. She steps away and he takes in deep breaths free of her air, the powdery scent of her. He breathes in her absence, no one nearby.

She returns with a washcloth and he takes it, scrubs at his face until his cheeks are red but clean, until you can't tell anymore that he cried while they burned him.

Good boy.

"You can stay here," She says, voice low now. "Sleep it off for a while. I've got a guest room."

"No. No, I will go home. Thank you. I will... I want to go home." He looks out the kitchen window right at Nat's house next door. No lights are on... yet. But there isn't much time before they will be.

"Fair enough. You plan to tell 'em what happened to you?"

He looks back at her, searches for the judgement, finds none.

"No," He says. Confesses, really, his sin. "I will not."

I will lie to them.

"That's your choice to make, I suppose." She lays a hand on his arm. He doesn't pull away from her. He wants to unzip himself from his skin and step out of it, let them all have what they seem to want to touch so much.

Instead, he holds himself perfectly still, until she pats him a few times and steps away again.

"I've done what I can do. You come back over here tomorrow or the day after and we'll look 'em over again and make sure they're healing up nice, you got me?"

"Yes," He says. He is good. He can be good.

"Right. Off you go, then, before your people wake up and you get to come up with a story about why you're in an old widow's house at 4:30 in the morning, hm? You're pretty enough, but you're no Wilbur." She laughs to herself, a dry and crackly sound, and he thinks that her laugh was the sort that could set a whole crowd to laughing, when she was young.

It still is.

The corners of his mouth twitch in an answering smile.

"Yes, ma'am," he says, and pushes himself off the edge, standing up again. No one has seen his scars, no one but this old neighbor woman who looks at them like they are simply part of living, not something to be pitied. "I go. S-... thank you."

"Paugh." She scoffs, waves a hand in dismissal. "Go on, now. You've thrown off my morning coffee time. Tell your young man that Jaden will be over this afternoon."

She all but shoos him out the door, and the air is clear and clean and quiet. The only dirty thing is Antoni himself, smudged and mussed, still feeling in his scalp the prickles of Quiet One's hands, still feeling on his arms the sharp pressure of the shirt tied around his wrists.

Still aware of every single burn under the slight pull of the bandages pressed over them, the gentle sting that feels like a return to how he was always meant to be.

Even the walk from one yard to another feels like too much. Antoni's eyes move over the empty darkened windows of the houses all around him. How obvious he must be, if three people saw him in the darkness and knew him for a pet pretending to be human.

He shouldn't have left, shouldn't have gone on those walks. He'd left himself open and vulnerable, hadn't he? His scars are deeper than skin, and they must shine like the streetlights to anyone who knows what to look for.

Antoni stops at the porch, where he carefully lifts a loose bit of board from the porch railing, finds the small box hidden inside. The slightest scrape of metal on metal as he pulls off the lid makes him freeze, but no one is awake to hear it. He takes the contents of the box, moves it quickly back to its hiding place, replaces the board.

Like nothing ever happened.

Everything can be made as good as new, as long as it isn't him.

He slips inside the safehouse, where everything is still quiet, in the silent inhale that comes before the exhalation of morning. The clock in the kitchen reads 4:45, fifteen minutes until Jake's alarm will go off, until he - and likely Chris - will stir.

Fifteen minutes for Antoni get upstairs and look so deeply asleep that no one will realize he was ever gone.

No time to shower.

He will have to sleep with the grime of their hands still ground deep into every single pore. He will sleep with Deep Voice's we know what you are in his ears, with Quiet One's fingers tangled in his hair, running over his skin. He will sleep with Lookout's eyes locked on his chest as he presses the cigarette in.

Antoni hasn't worn a collar in years now, but he buckles it on, just one notch too tight like Mr. Davies would have, and climbs under the covers, pulling them over his head.

He breathes in as deep as he can, to feel the constriction. Breathes out, and runs his hand up over his chest, over the bandages that cover his burns.

They knew what he was.

Everyone always will.

Good boy.

The ashtray falls asleep humming a lullaby, afraid that if he pulls the blankets back down he will see bars on the windows.

[quillsanddaydreams]

mad first love

remus lupin x reader

—author’s note: I was thinking about how train rides are kind of nostalgic and time stops when we travel and well, this one-shot is the result. What happens when you spend your journey with an ex? Particularly the one you still seem to stuck on? Enjoy!

—warning(s): mentions of food, gender neutral!reader (pronouns aren't used).

—wordcount: 2,476

The train brought back memories. Happy moments. Times that were filled with laughter and glee and lighthearted chats. Smiling wistfully, you moved through the bustling compartments to the one at very end. It was the only one which was empty. Peaceful and quiet. In other words, perfect. Placing your bag at the top rack, you sat down next to the window looking at the crowd outside. A mother fussed over her kid’s hair who tried their very best to move away. The hunched vendor shouted their wares attracting the attention of small children.

“Is this seat taken?” a voice came and you snapped attention towards the sliding door. Your eyes broadened taking in the light brown hair and tired eyes looking around the compartment awkwardly. A flash of recognition crossed the pale face.

Remus.

You didn’t realize you had whispered his name. He gave you a small smile and for a small minute, the two of you just stared at each other. Remus spoke first.

“May I sit here? I’m afraid rest of the compartments are either full or too loud,” he said slowly and you shook yourself.

“Yeah, of course,” you said as he settled himself opposite to you.

How long had been since you last saw him? Six years or maybe more? Your heart clenched suddenly remembering the time you spent with him. You turned to look outside the window again. It always struck true, didn’t it? There was nothing quite like your first love. And you always supposed Remus to be the one.

The train started with a small jolt, moving past the station. People waved their good-byes, some of them running along with the sleeper shouting promises to meet again. Remus however, found himself sneaking glances at you. You had changed. Of course you had, it had been years since he last saw you. Your eyes were the same though. Sparkling with curiosity and threatening to see right through him. It was strange, sitting across you but feeling miles apart. But then again, it was how he made it to be.

The floor hummed as the train picked up pace. You stood up, taking out the book you had been reading before. Town dissolved into outskirts and it seemed too soon that the roads were replaced by unending fields. Placing your bag at one end of the berth, you laid down. It was going to be a long ride and you might as well make yourself comfortable. Remus huddled in a corner scribbling something in his diary. Time passed and you looked over at him, moving your book slightly. He looked exhausted. More exhausted than you had ever seen him at school. His eyes had dark circles as he furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. Interest took over.

“So how have you been?” you asked as nonchalantly as possible. Remus’s eyes widened, not expecting you to speak to him.

“I’ve been okay,” he started, struggling to find the right words. “Been hunting down jobs. It’s not easy considering, well, my condition.”

You nodded. As much as you knew, he was one of the best as a student— anyone should be happy to recruit him. The wizarding society drowned in irrational fear. It made you sick. Remus had always been insecure about his condition. You remembered trying to help him through it even though he never heeded. Now you wondered how was it possible not to doubt oneself when you were treated like him.

“What about you?” Remus asked, breaking you out of his reverie. “I remember you being passionate about charms. Charming random stuff to fly around by themselves?”

You let out a laugh.

“Yeah, I’m doing exactly that,” you said getting up and sitting to face him. You scratched behind your ear. “I’m working for the ministry to improve the transfer of letters and objects. It isn’t that bad, but somehow someone ends screwing up and the room ends in an utter mess. Lucky, I don’t have to clean after.”

Remus grinned seeing you shudder. He followed your hand movements as you re-enacted the explosion. You giggled. Noticing Remus staring at you, you sat up, a bit more properly.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked. You felt your ears heat up under his gaze.

“You haven’t changed, have you?” he said, a twinkle in his eye. You raised an eyebrow.

“I could say the same about you.”

Remus’s lips upturned, eyes childlike.

“I don’t know, can you?”

You smirked.

“I mean— messy hair, a grey sweater,” you moved your eyes over his form. Remus shifted in his seat. “dock martins and talking with that always-polite-voice? I would say you haven’t changed at all.”

Remus grinned, ready to quip back but stopped himself. He cleared his throat, looking away.

“Guess I haven’t.”

You fell silent too. The past seemed to cling on to both your backs, heavy and demanding. There was no escaping it.

“How are James, Sirius and Peter?” you asked taking a deep breath, sitting back. Anything would be better than the tense silence right now. Remus looked thankful too.

“James been working with the Bigonville Bombers, Sirius is mostly travelling around and is starting a T.V. show,” he sighed, face falling a little. “and Peter is busy with restoration of his parents’ home”

You rubbed your palm.

“I’m sure you’ll find something soon,” you whispered as Remus shook his head, a bitter smile on his lips.

“It’s not that easy.”

The train rattled a little. You held onto the edge of your seat and looked out. Dark clouds filled the sky. It seemed that the world was reacting to the atmosphere in your compartment.

“What if you become a teacher?” you said out of the blue. Remus raised his eyebrows.

“A teacher?”

“Yeah. The DADA position is open and Dumbledore was kind enough to let you in the school as a child,” you started. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you there as an adult.”

Remus seemed to ponder upon the idea before shaking his head.

“I don’t know about it. Am I even capable enough to teach children?”

“Well, you definitely were better than any other teacher when we were at Hogwarts,” you stated seriously. “You helped me score a perfect 100 back then.”

Remus let his head fall back, humming in response. A knock shook the two of you. The trolley lady offered the two of you a warm smile.

“What can I get the two of you?” she asked, gesturing towards her cart.

“I’ll love some of those sandwiches and lemonade,” you said, taking out some money from your purse. She handed you the things and you paid her in turn.

“And for you dear?” she asked Remus.

“Nothing, thank you.”

You frowned lightly. There was no way he made something and the journey was going to be long.

“Actually, can I have another one of these?” you asked the woman pointing to the one you remembered Remus liked; as he tried to interrupt. “Thank you”

The trolley lady left shutting the door behind her. You could feel Remus’s gaze on you. Handing the sandwich and the bottle of lemonade to Remus, you sat down slowly. He sighed.

“Did you have to?” he asked as you shrugged. You could see a small smile near the corner of his mouth.

The two of you sat in silence eating and drinking. You recalled sitting with Remus like this. He was never the one to say much and you enjoyed the calm that came with it. How many times you sat huddled with him in his dorm and his friends never even noticed? How many times he had kissed you so gently that you felt you would melt right there? You shook your head. A path down the memory lane didn’t seem like a good idea. Remus didn’t look bothered though. Afterall, wasn’t he the one who wanted to break up? You took a sip of the juice watching the scene outside.

He was supposed to be over you. He was supposed to be over you. Only he found that idea crumbling right then. It had been seven years. Seven long years. Remus had heard about all the people you dated. Successful people. People who were worthy of you. Hadn’t that been the idea all along? Feeling his chest wound up, he took another bite of the sandwich. Damn these feelings.

Time passed as you lay down and read the book you had bought. Remus was focused on his journal. You couldn’t concentrate though. Not for long anyway. Your mind kept wandering off to Remus. Unknows’ to you, he found himself in the same predicament. Both of you wanted to cross the invisible barrier but neither of you wanted to open old wounds. It was strange. You never felt more away. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be. Maybe you two were supposed to be just strangers. Light rain fell against the window and you found yourself a kind of tranquility fall over you.

“Do you still sing?” Remus asked after a while, his voice soft. Your heart thumped and you inhaled deeply.

“Not anymore, no,” you said, feeling something stick in your throat. You stopped singing after the two of you broke up.

“What— why?”

Remus looked at you curiously. He spent countless nights with his arms around you as you sang softly to him. Listening on fondly as your soft voice lured him to sleep. Those moments were scarce. So precious and gentle that he treasured each one.

“I just don’t,” you said not meeting his eye, giving an intended shrug.

“But—” Remus started and you felt your temper rise.

“Remus I hate my voice,” you snapped. “I hate to sing, always had.”

There was a beat of silence. You pointedly looked at your wrist watch.

“I’m sorry,” he began. “It’s just you sang to me so many times.”

“Well, I saw you in pain and I’d never felt more helpless and hurt,” you said with a dry laugh. Tears pricked your eyes remembering those times. Perhaps you weren’t as over him as you thought you were.

“So when you asked me to sing, I forgot about it for a while,” you continued. “And you seemed to love it. It made you happy. I decided to do it for you from then.”

You let your head fall back, feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden. Remus looked down. He didn’t know what to say.

“You did, you made me happy,” he whispered after a while. You snorted.

“Come on, I did not make you happy.”

“You did, you were everything I could ask for—”

“Stop that,” you hissed. “If I were, you wouldn’t have broken up with me.”

You uttered before you could stop yourself. It hurt. As much as it killed you to admit, that part always stung. Your stomach turned. The rain was pouring down heavily, it’s pitter patter filling up the compartment.

“You know it’s funny Remus,” you started, staring at the ceiling. “I begged you for a reason. I begged you to tell me why you wanted to break up with me. Just a reason. All you gave me was that it’s not you, it’s me bullshit. And I spent years just nitpicking at my faults. Because I loved you. I loved you so much and I did not know what I lacked in giving you. So, tell me. Please tell me the real reason why you broke up with me.”

Staring at him, you sat up straighter. Remus squeezed his eyes shut. His adam apple bobbed as he spoke.

“It was the career aptitude class. I talked about my condition and what options I had,” he said. “There were close to none. I saw everyone coming back, talking about their futures whereas I sat there knowing I had nothing. And I was right wasn’t it?”

Remus gestured at himself.

“Who— who in the right mind would want to be with me? I felt like I was losing everything and that eventually I would lose you too. And I decided that it was better then, than later. You deserved better. You deserved people who you could match you. Me? I would be a nobody. It seemed proper that I broke up with you.”

Remus fell silent. You opened and closed your mouth several times. He turned towards the window.

“Would it have killed you to tell me just that?” you said, your voice kinder.

“Remus, I had never ever needed you to be successful to love you. Not once. I was, am not someone who needs money or the so-called respect from the world to be happy. Remus, you are worth it. Whether you believe it or not, there are people would love to have you.”

Something flicked over Remus’s eyes. He nodded.

Neither of you spoke for the rest of the ride. The grey clouds changed into a sunny sky and you could hear birds flying outside. The compartment was so quiet, one could say it was empty. Sometime in between s kid came in confused, shouting something and running back. Remus and you exchanged a glance and turned back to what you were doing.

Time seemed to fly. You could see your destination all too soon. Taking a deep breath as your station arrived, you got up to take your bags. Remus helped you. He stood behind you as you walked outside. The line was long, people chattered excitedly. You felt something building up in your chest. You didn’t want to say goodbye to Remus again. It didn’t feel right. Stepping down from the carrier, you stopped before Remus. Words failed you two.

“I guess it’s time to go,” Remus said, his voice barely above a whisper. He searched your face.

“Guess it is.”

You moved your arms around awkwardly, praying silently for him to stop you. It was his decision now. He gave you a small nod, and turned to leave. Your head throbbed watching him disappear into the crowd. Clutching your bag tightly, you started to move your own way. Pahul waited for you at their apartment. You would have to take a muggle taxi. All you wanted right now was to curl up and watch some movies to forget all that had happened that day.

“Wait!!!”

You heard shouts behind you and you turned to see Remus running towards you. He puffed out a few breaths, standing in front of you his hands over his bent knees.

“Would you— would you— like to catch up some more sometime? Over dinner maybe?” he asked, a heavy breath punctuating each word.

“Like a date?”

“Exactly like a date.”

You stared at him, his face all read from running, biting his lip waiting for an answer. The scene made you smile.

“I would love that.”

—as for the taglist: I don’t make taglists, I have a blog @from-my-quill ​ which is updated whenever I post fanfiction. You could have the notifications on for it and it will work just like me tagging you.

⟨⟨REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED⟩⟩

[shepherds-of-haven]

So I follow MANY interactive fiction blogs and I just have to say that you're my favorite by a long shot because I just love answers that you give in response to hypothetical scenarios and AU's for your characters. Like you actually put in effort and give well-thought out answers, so I thank you for that. As for AU's I have one of my own if you don't mind please. What would be the RO's for a murder mystery a la Cluedo? Bonus points that they can't leave the mansion for extra chaos. Thank you!

Ah, thank you so much for your kind words! 💖 I'm lucky to be a part of such a great community of talented creatives and kind, genuinely awesome people! Interacting with readers is such a pleasure, even if I do fall behind on messages and such I'm so sorry

I'm in North America, so I was genuinely like "what on Earth is Cluedo" gkljglfdjgd only because it's called Clue where I'm from! But I, uh, never played it, so I'm just going to go off of my knowledge from Knives Out 😂

SETTING: a Southern Gothic mansion in an undisclosed location, owned by a woman only referred to in jest as The Autarch by her adopted children. It is a stately manor, richly furnished and glittering with wealth, though imposing and dark-windowed during storms.

CONTEXT: a powerful and wealthy tycoon referred to only as "The Autarch" or "The Iron Lady" was once feared across the country for her ruthless business dealings and formidable empire. In her middle age, a mysterious experience and the sudden death of her husband caused her to have a change of heart, abruptly abandoning her empire to her only son and devoting her life to adopting six orphan children. However, stopping her business dealings did not completely change her personality: she was a hard, unforgiving woman, and her relationships to her children (now all grown) can be described as "strained" at best.

In her declining age, the lonely Autarch in her high mansion somehow came to befriend a psychic by the name of Mimir of the Silver Eye. Only the servants were witness to what was said between them, and even then, they never had the full story. The most that anyone knew was that the Autarch began to express more interest in resuming her business activities again, to the disconcertion of her only biological son, Enik, who had helmed the empire on his own for the last twenty years. Meanwhile, Mimir moved into the mansion to keep her older friend company, and to help advise her on matters both business and personal.

One stormy night, the Autarch calls all 7 of her children back home in order to discuss matters of great importance, including her decisions about her will. Some came eagerly, and others with great reluctance--there were arguments had that were years in coming, and there were private talks between siblings who hadn't interacted in years. But the matter that the Autarch was keen to discuss was postponed: the storm knocked out the power in the mansion, and all turned into bed, sleeping fitfully in rooms they'd abandoned decades earlier.

They never discovered why the Autarch had called them to their old haunting grounds, either, for in the morning, she was found with a knife buried in her heart.

CHARACTERS:

- Riel Syndran. A world-famous private detective and consultant famed across the world for his ability to solve any mystery, no matter how old or tangled. He is known for being comfortable with ruthlessly manipulating interrogation subjects and suspects in order to extract the truth and solve his case no matter what; this obsession and willingness to massage the rules--although he claims the truth is his only goal, above all other things--is what makes him unsuitable for conventional police work, but his results speak for themselves. He arrives on the mansion's doorstep mere minutes after the Autarch is found murdered and is claimed to have been hired by an anonymous party, casting suspicion on his timing and the pre-planned nature of the death. His signature move is being recognized by various people as "the detective who solved the Apple Killer case" (or some other famous case of his) and replying in irritable tones that it was actually "the Orange Killer case, but you were close". He abhors smoking and has doctorates in body language analysis and psychology, as well as a law degree, and is gifted with a photographic memory. He picks invisible lint off of his sleeves while he thinks.

- Blade Bronwyn. An FBI agent (think Agent Cooper in Twin Peaks) who has been in the town of Old Haven investigating a string of serial killings across the country. He hears about the murder of the Autarch from the local police and arrives at the manor a mere hour after they were alerted, keen to investigate the murder as part of his ongoing case. He plays the straight man to Riel's more eccentric detection methods, and is seen more as a serious, by-the-books rule-follower determined to get answers. The suspects in the manor find him to be emotionally-insensitive, blunt, and grim-faced. He has a better sense of smell and sight than Riel does, as well as more combat experience, and is the only person in the manor acknowledged to be carrying a weapon. He takes his coffee black and very strong.

- Enik Goldenson. The Autarch's only biological child and the oldest. He was granted full control of her holdings and business empire when she retired in order to focus on raising her new family. He has made his disdain of his adopted siblings very clear, not least because he resents having to share his future inheritance with them. He has historically been a bully and cruel towards his mother. Rumor had it that he was once studying to become a priest. He has avoided returning to the mansion ever since Trouble knocked his lights out at fourteen years of age. He was once briefly engaged to fellow heiress Lavinet Naveen, who eventually spurned him, finding him "repulsive." He has the most bad blood among anyone in the family and is considered one of the prime suspects in the Autarch's murder, as it was possible that she may planned to cut him out of the will. Blade places his suspect status as RED while Riel believes he is at an ORANGE: Enik may be far too clever to kill his own mother under such suspicious and bloody circumstances.

- Trouble Alder. The first of the Autarch's adopted children, he was once an urchin running a street-fighting racket on the streets of New Haven. He was nicknamed Trouble for his surly temper and quick ability to get into fights and settle things with his fists, necessitating being sent off to a military boarding school in an effort to curb his violent tendencies as a teenager. He is extremely protective of his other adopted siblings, and while he resented the Autarch in his youth, he has begrudgingly come to respect her more for taking him in as an adult. He now works as a decorated sniper in the military and is working to earn his pilot's wings. The revelation that he kept military weapons in his room casts suspicion on him as a murder suspect, though Riel quickly dismisses him as not being a good enough liar to get away with it.

- Tallys Ironwood. The second of the Autarch's adopted children, she made her hatred of the old woman very well known, and had an even poorer relationship with her than Enik did. Tallys's parents were victims in an accident caused by one of the Autarch's manufacturing plants, and she has always felt that her subsequent adoption was mere lip service to atonement for the Autarch, while she would have rather stayed with her more impoverished aunts and uncles. She ran away multiple times in her youth and has not spoken to the Autarch since she was 18. Her overt hatred and reluctance in coming back to the mansion casts suspicion on her as a murder suspect. She has a degree in plant science and works as an environmental activist, particularly targeting products and campaigns by Enik's company, creating unspeakable friction between them.

- Ayla Aescar. The third of the Autarch's adopted children, nothing is known about her biological parents. She was adopted from a neighboring country and has since returned to it as an adult, making an effort to reconnect with her origins and culture. Her relationship with "the old woman," as she calls her, was more neutral, though it comes out that the Autarch frequently bailed her out in secret whenever Ayla ran into trouble, such as trespassing on Jalis government grounds. Nominally, she works as a photographer for a travel magazine, but secretly, she is an investigative photojournalist looking into various covert practices by the Jalis government. This brings up a question of whether the Autarch's killing was political, and whether it was actually meant for Ayla.

- Chase Trinaeste. The fourth of the Autarch's adopted children, it's joked that he was intended to replace Trouble when he was sent off to boarding school due to having a more charming personality and sweeter face. However, he ended up being the most troublesome one of the bunch, having multiple run-ins with the law from a young age and displaying various tendencies towards larceny, grand theft auto, and more. He had no shame about stealing and pawning off valuables from the mansion and was a well-known skirt-chaser, leading to constant stress in their household about what he was getting up to when he snuck out of the house at night. At eighteen, he disappeared from the mansion, and no one has heard from him in the intervening years since. He completely ducks any questions from Riel or Blade about what he does for a living, leading most to conclude that he has gotten himself deeper entrenched in the criminal underworld. This has cast obvious suspicion on him and his involvement in the murder, as he was known to steal from the Autarch herself. He seems to feel some measure of loyalty and possibly remorse towards his adopted siblings, but hides it well under a polished veneer of charm and casual swagger.

- Briony Stormbreaker. The fifth of the Autarch's adopted children In a dramatic fashion, she was discovered as a young child swept away in a huge flood caused by a storm, with no ability to communicate (or seemingly remember) anything about where she could have lived or who her family was. She was subsequently adopted by the Autarch and is one of the few who had a fairly good relationship with her, always expressing gratitude for giving her a home and family (though this brought her into conflict with siblings like Tallys, as she usually tried to defend the Autarch when she wasn't there to speak for herself). She was the sibling who always tried to unite the others, and their constant arguments and conflicts constantly broke her heart. She was an easily-upset child who tended to be babied by Trouble and Chase, but after constantly bullying from Croelle and Enik, she toughened up and began taking martial arts classes, abruptly displaying her own ferocious temper and violent streak as well as unusually powerful physical strength. She currently works as a passionate public prosecutor. She was heard conversing with the Autarch privately with raised voices, on the night of the murder, and is known to sleepwalk during violent storms. She even had a phase with an imaginary, sword-shaped friend as a child, as well as repeatedly claimed that she's seen ghosts in the manor. This perceived paranoia has led some to wonder whether she could have harmed the Autarch in her sleep. As Riel says, "It's always the nice ones." Blade: "Not in my experience." Riel: "Not in mine, either, but in some continuity, it must be true."

- Croelle. The last of the Autarch's adopted children. He was by far the most anti-social and troubled part of the family, refusing to speak to those he deemed beneath him and breaking Trouble's arm in a disturbing display of dominance as youths. Unlike Enik, his cruelty is more ruthless and matter-of-fact, the way an animal might treat another animal, rather than pointed and manipulative. Regardless, he was a terror to all of the other siblings, and he was eventually thrown in juvenile detention (and later prison) for killing members of a gang, seemingly in self-defense. However, he never cared to divulge the full details of the story, and has been serving his sentence ever since. No one besides the Autarch knew that he was coming until they arrived at the manor. Croelle claims that he and the Autarch had been exchanging letters for the last few years, and that he has begrudgingly allowed her back into his life, which was why she decided to invite him to this gathering upon his release from prison. However, there is currently no evidence that any such letters exist. As an adult, he is currently quieter and more mellow and has shown no particular proclivity towards violence, but there is always a sense of danger lurking in his eye regardless. His social skills have not improved by much. He is considered one of the absolute top suspects for the old woman's murder. His feelings on his adopted siblings or really anything are extremely unknown. He keeps asking everyone about free will, which annoys everyone except Riel.

- Shery Acquell. A longtime maid for the Autarch and one of her closest friends and confidantes. She alone has been caring for the Autarch in her declining health, ensuring that she has been receiving the proper medical care and dietary attentions, and even reading her books in the evenings. Their closeness has led some to speculate that the Autarch may have bequeathed a part of her inheritance to the maid, or that perhaps Shery was motivated to ingratiate herself to the Autarch to attain said inheritance. She was the last person to see the Autarch before her death, knows something about what transpired between her and Mimir, and ultimately reluctantly admits that she believes in the ghosts that Briony has seen, too.

- Halek Prince. The manor's live-in chef. He is one of the few non-family members staying in the mansion the night of the murder, and suspicion is cast on him when his cooking seemingly gives Ayla, Briony, and Red an allergy attack, leading some to posit attempts at poisoning. Mimir claims to have seen him in places where he shouldn't be or even couldn't be, and he is generally someone viewed as a good suspect for the murder. Riel thinks something else is going on here.

- Red Antiqua. Ayla's journalist partner who accompanied her to the mansion, partly to serve as a buffer for the family awkwardness and partly because he was curious to learn more about the reclusive Autarch. Nominally, he is a travel writer, but secretly, he is working as the same kind of investigative journalist that she is. His secret photographs of the manor prove to be a key piece of evidence in uncovering the murder suspect. He is forced to be confined to the manor, the same as everyone else, to prevent information leaks or runaways. He uncovers a secret doorway in his room and is too curious not to duck into it...

- Caine Tavadon. The son of the manor's groundskeeper, he is often seen with his dog, peeping into the windows of the manor because he's incorrigibly nosy. His witness statements lead Blade and Riel to key footprints on the grounds. He claims to have seen a strange figure staring down at him from the windows of the mansion before.

- Prihine Naveen. Enik's current fiancee, she accompanied him on this odious visit to his mother's manor and is a witness in the proceedings. Although they can barely tolerate each other, their shared ambitions for wealth and power keep them together as a polite though distant couple. A file in the Autarch's study reveals that she has been watching Prihine for some time and discovered that she was having a secret affair. The file indicates that she planned to tell Enik face-to-face, leading others to speculate that Prihine may have murdered the old woman in order to preserve her engagement. Enik remarks that there was a period of time where Prihine was not in bed.

- Lavinet Naveen. Prihine's older cousin, and Enik's ex-fiancee. They've technically known each other since they were children and were schoolmates at the same prestigious institution. The Autarch and Lavinet's father initially had designs to marry the two to forge a powerful alliance between their business empires. However, Lavinet quickly backed out of the engagement, finally admitting that she couldn't stand Enik and would never marry him. Although this has generally caused relations between the two families to become frosty, she has strangely remained on good terms with the Autarch herself, who always admired Lavinet's chutzpah and steely will. (This was just another reason for Enik to hate his own mother.) Lavinet was free to come and go to the manor as she pleased, and dropped in on the Autarch once every few months, as her family's manor is nearby. She only recently discovered that her own cousin, Prihine, is now engaged to her ex, and rushed over on the night of the murder in order to dissuade Prihine from the marriage or convince the Autarch to put a stop to it. This led to a four-way argument (between Lavinet, Prihine, Enik, and his mother) of epic proportions, meaning that Lavinet is not clear on suspicions of murder, either.

- Mimir. The psychic who somehow came into contact with the Autarch and began to convert her to the ways of the supernatural. She has been the Autarch's closest friend and confidant for months, even going so far as to move into the mansion. Many point out the obvious designs on the Autarch's inheritance and possible sinister intentions for taking advantage of the older woman, especially since no one but Shery knows what Mimir has actually advised the Autarch to do. However, Riel points out that there has been no traceable financial irregularities when it comes to Mimir; the Autarch doesn't seem to have paid her for her services, only providing Mimir with food and a roof over her head. The psychic speaks in extremely cryptic tones and lapses into trance-like states. Riel in particular scorns her for her supposedly psychic abilities, insisting that she is a fraud, until she comments on aspects of his past that no one could possibly know, shaking him. She is a prime suspect for the murder until it's discovered that Mimir insists on being locked into a windowless room, only being released by Shery in the morning, to protect herself from the ghosts that haunt the grounds...

[bbrandy2002]

Fearless

Chapter 4: See the Lights, See the Party, the Ball Gowns

Book: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairing: Prince/King Liam x MC (Riley Brooks), Drake Walker x OC (Alyssa Devereaux)

Series Premise: Riley Brooks and Alyssa Devereaux became best friends as freshmen at Syracuse University, a borderline-sisterhood that lasts forever after. When Riley meets a handsome prince and is asked to compete for his hand in a mysterious faraway kingdom, she invites Alyssa along for moral support.

What the girls think will be a crazy temporary adventure becomes two sets of happily ever afters … with twice the shenanigans to show for it.

A/N: This series is written in loving collaboration between @bbrandy2002 and @burnsoslow​.

Series Warnings: Smut 🍋🍋, language, canon violence (gun violence, bombing, terrorism), drug use, probably more stuff as we think of it. By reading this series, you agree that you are at least 18 years old and are prepared to deal with adult themes.

The girls spent their first morning in Cordonia with their respective sponsors, getting the first glimpses of courtly life and preparing for the Masquerade Ball taking place that evening. As much as they wanted to get out and experience all that this little Mediterranean country had to offer, there was just so much to do and little time to do it. 

That morning, while Alyssa worked diligently on learning the steps of the Cordonian Waltz and etiquette with Rashad, Maxwell finally got Riley out of bed in time for a late breakfast. This included meeting his brother, Bertrand, who was none too thrilled with the former waitress from New York. Riley discovered rather quickly that the duke was nothing like the free-spirited Maxwell; if ever there was a picture display of a killjoy, she was sure his scowling face would be plastered dead in the center.  

The day kind of went by in a dizzying blur, especially for Riley, who spent most of it either being lectured by Bertrand, or raiding the kitchen for stress snacks with Maxwell. And as far as anyone knew, Liam was still unaware that the quirky, raven-haired beauty he’d met two nights ago and never expected to see again was in his country, in his palace, and was about to come face-to-face with him.

If she didn’t die of anxiety first. 

Neither of the girls saw each other until much later that afternoon when they linked up in Riley’s room before heading to the palace's salon for last-minute hair and nail appointments. 

Later on in the boutique, Riley sucked in a deep breath and held in her stomach while Alyssa stood behind her, fighting to zip the back of the angel-themed costume she chose for the Masquerade Ball. 

Actually, "chose" was a loose description in this case. The ensemble was one of the last two dresses in the palace's boutique, and Maxwell insisted Riley wear it instead of the more provocative red devil attire to make herself more appealing to the King and Queen. The Beaumont sponsee didn’t give two shits at that moment about impressing the monarchs; her major concern was how she would fit that size-four dress over her size-six body. 

“What the hell did you eat, Ri? This zipper is not budging an inch," an out-of-breath Alyssa groaned as she attempted to pull the tight fabric closer together.  

Steadying her feet firmly to the ground, a jostled-around Riley answered quietly, in a still manner, so as not to undo what little progress her friend had already made, "You know I'm a stress eater. I've experienced many emotions since we left yesterday, and food therapy helps. And your judgment is making me hungry again, so thank you for making it worse."

"I'm not judging you; I'm simply stating a fact: Your ass won’t fit in this dress."

Riley straightened up a little higher, hoping to thin her lean frame out more. "Well, it's gonna have to," she scoffed. "I can't be the only suitor at this ball without the proper attire."

Alyssa tugged harder in frustration. "You know, it might help if I could remove the price tag from the zipper."

"Perhaps." Riley sideways glanced at the two inattentive boutique cashiers before turning her head slightly over her shoulder to acknowledge her best friend in a hushed tone. "But then I wouldn't be able to return it in the morning. $700 for a damn dress is highway robbery, and I won't be a victim to this place's jacked-up prices." She glared back at the fashionably dressed women running the register and hollered out, "You should all be ashamed of yourselves!"

"Shhhh!" Alyssa's face burned with embarrassment while she smiled sheepishly at the bewildered ladies. "Are you crazy? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You mean aside from the usual things that are wrong with me? I'm a nervous wreck, Lyss. Liam still doesn't know that I'm here. I'm about to go wine-and-dine with snobby rich people, while my socially awkward-o-meter is on red alert. And Maxwell's brother didn't like me. How am I supposed to impress Liam, the press, this council, and his parents when my own sponsor hates me?"

"He doesn't hate you," Alyssa replied. "Suck in your stomach a little more ... Rashad told me Duke Beaumont is high-strung and takes all this court business very seriously. If you ask me, give ‘The Brows’ some time. I know he'll love you. And Liam already does!" Alyssa stepped back in delight after tirelessly sliding the last bit of the zipper to the neckline. "Voila! I got it."

Riley stiffly turned toward the full-length mirror -- her insides feeling like they would pop right out of her -- and surveyed the finished product. "Not bad, not bad. A slight muffin top on the sides, and my ass cheeks are packed in tighter than my family around the dessert station at a buffet, but ... I think I can get by with it." Turning to face Alyssa, she lit up with anticipation. "Okay, now it's your turn."

Alyssa plucked the bright red dress off the rack and headed inside one of the many dressing rooms. A moment later, she emerged with a beaming smile on her face and held her arms out to the side to do a show-offish twirl. "So, how do I look?"

"Oh my god, Lyss!" Riley clapped excitedly. "You look so hot in that! That color of red really suits you too. Although, you might want to cover up the girls a little more; I've never seen your boobs look so huge."

"Wha --" Alyssa glanced down at her fully rounded chest, a substantial portion of which was spilling out over the top. She crossed her arms over her breasts in horror. "OH MY GOD! You're right: They're enormous in this thing. I can't go out there like this! They'll be stuffing dollar bills into my cleavage and begging for a lap dance!"

"Well, just ... try to tuck them in," Riley suggested, demonstrating her advice on herself. “You know, the way guys tuck in their junk.”

Alyssa shook her head adamantly, attempting to slide the top of the dress up higher. "I don't think that'll work. It's already extremely tight."

“That’s what he said,” Riley quipped with a snicker, much to the chagrin of her longtime friend, who simply blinked back. “Wow, not even a smile. Come on, Lyss, it’s not that hard.”

Alyssa grinned despite herself, “That’s what she said.”

Riley stepped closer, reaching out to grab a portion of the garment covering Alyssa's bosom, and declared, "Alright, If I can squeeze my fat ass into this dress, you can cram those giant melons into yours. So, get to pushin’, girl.”

-----------

After 10 minutes of stuffing uncooperative breasts into a gown, Alyssa and Riley stepped out of the boutique and made their way to the bottom of the main staircase outside of the ballroom, where Rashad and Maxwell were waiting eagerly for them. 

A grim-faced Rashad approached the pair as they neared. “We were beginning to worry about you two. I hope you didn’t have any trouble.” He reached out and greeted Alyssa with a friendly kiss to the cheek as Riley made her way up to Maxwell, who did the same.

“No troubles,” Alyssa assured him, before staring down at her chest to make sure certain parts were still contained inside her dress. “Just some slight wardrobe issues that I think we’ve taken care of.”

Riley frowned, rubbing a soothing hand over her squeezed-in stomach. “Let’s just say we both feel like canned biscuits.”

“And I’m petrified of canned biscuits!” Alyssa shrieked, then spoke in a lower, punier voice in Rashad’s direction. “They make that popping sound that scares the hell out of me.” He nodded sympathetically at her admission, having no clue what canned biscuits were.

Maxwell let out a chuckle. “Either way, you both look awesome! Like two totally righteous peas in a pod and all that jazz.” He peeked over at Riley, who wasn’t appearing too sure of herself, or of anything for that matter, knowing she’d spent most of the day in a subtle panic. While she steadied her breath, he looped his arm through hers and leaned over. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. You’re going to go in there like the boss you are and knock them all dead. I just know it.”

Riley swallowed thickly, “But Liam --”

“Will be over the moon with excitement to see you again. Do you think I’d go through all the trouble of trying to convince you, and then Alyssa, to come all the way here -- not to mention, facing my brother’s wrath -- if I didn’t believe Liam would want to see you again?” Riley half-shrugged, but Maxwell could tell by the little glimmer of hope he caught in her eyes and the slight curl at the corner of her plush pink lips that she knew it was true. “If he’s not happy about seeing you, I’ll book you on the first flight back to New York, and you can punch me in the gut or something. But I can tell you with certainty: No man goes out with a woman and keeps his friends up most of the night talking about how amazing she was if he doesn’t want to see her again.”

Riley could feel a tinge of pink color her cheeks and looked away for a brief moment, knowing he was right. She was about to see her prince again. Simply knowing how happy Liam was when they parted ways that night made her heart flutter. The blushing suitor peered back at the towering man on her arm and smiled appreciatively. “Thanks, Max.” 

As they both stared straight ahead at the set of double doors where Alyssa was making her grand entrance into the ballroom with Rashad, Riley pointed out, “You realize if you had said all that stuff to me this morning and five bloated pounds ago, I wouldn’t have cried to you all day over pints of ice cream, half a sheet cake, and a bag of Mini Snickers?”

Lord Beaumont grinned without looking at her as the orchestral music inside erupted through the newly opened threshold that awaited their crossing. A gleam of anticipation glistened the cobalt hue of his eyes.”That’s our cue. Time to look alive, Twinkle Toes, it’s showtime.”

__________

It felt like a million pairs of eyes bore through Riley when the announcer spoke her name out to the guest in the ballroom. In reality, few paid much attention to the young woman dressed in pure white, from the feathery halo perched above her fancy swept-up hairdo to the tiny heels that sparkled like glittery specks of fairy dust on her feet.  

As Maxwell ushered her proudly through the spectacular crowd adorned in the finest silks and chiffons, faces concealed behind extravagant masks similar to hers, and opulent table spreads of gold and crimson, Riley searched the four corners of the room for one particular set of the bluest eyes she’d ever encountered -- she had Liam’s memorized by heart. However, the only ones she recognized came from her smiling best friend, standing casually beside the Lord of Domvallier at the bar, keeping her word to watch out for her. With a subtle grin from Alyssa to convey she had her back, the whirlwind of fear and chaotic thoughts that overwhelmed Riley quickly dissipated into thin air. 

Baby steps.

While Maxwell and Riley headed to the center of the ballroom to meet up with Bertrand, across the way, Alyssa ordered a cranberry vodka from the bar. She was wearing red and needed a drink that matched perfectly with the fabric in case of accidental spillage. As the bartender poured her glass, she tore her vigilant gaze from Riley when Rashad’s cell rang. Seconds later, he covered his phone lightly with a palm and lowered it away from his ear to speak with her. 

“This is my client in California. Will you be okay for a little bit while I take this out on the balcony?”

Alyssa nodded. “Of course. Take your time. Is there anything I should be doing while you’re gone?”

“Try mingling with the crowd. Get to know the other suitors. The best way to help Riley tonight is to get a feel for the competition. Figure out who you can potentially get on her side and who is going to cause her trouble.”

“With all due respect, this isn’t Survivor.”

Rashad grinned before excusing himself. “We'll see if you still feel that way by the end of the social season.”

What is it with all the Debbie Downers here? He sounds just like -- Before she could finish that thought, a stroke of irony occurred when she caught the denim-clad Drake, standing out like a sore thumb, making his way up to the bar. She quickly spun around on the barstool and hovered over her freshly poured beverage. 

Tapping the bar's woodgrain top, Drake called for, “The usual,” before plopping down on the stool next to her. His woodsy scent filled the air and wafted in her direction; she wondered if he’d even recognize her.

Pressing the rim of the glass to her lips to take the first nervous sip of her drink, she wondered why she even cared if he did.

Alyssa set the vodka cranberry down on a cocktail napkin at the same time Drake reached for his tumbler of whiskey. A brush of their hands caused them both to retreat away before he bowed his head respectfully to her. 

“I’m sorry, my lady.” Drake was quick to apologize. He never knew which stuck up nobles would have an issue with a commoner’s simple touch.

Alyssa lifted a brow and smirked in response. “So you do have manners?”

He’d recognize that wily voice anywhere. Grumbling, Drake responded. “Aww, hell! Pipsqueak? Is that you?”

“Hello, Sunshine.” She dimpled.

Drake shook his head. “I should have known. Of all the damn people in this room, I still managed to find you.”

“I would call that a very lucky day for you then.” Alyssa lifted her drink and tipped back a gulp. “So what’re you doing here? Don’t you have some royal cows or chickens to herd around or something? Who wears denim and jeans to a fancy ball?” 

She would if she could get away with it.

His tight shoulder muscles bounced slightly with disingenuous laughter as his chestnut eyes took in her sultry devilish costume. “I could ask you the same about your own clothes. Suitors are supposed to dress up for these things. Not come as themselves.”

Offended, Alyssa arched back contemptuously. “Are you calling me a devil?”

“If the horns and pitchfork fit.” Drake retorted. He motioned with his glass across the room. “By the way, you see that blazing redhead who just stole your little friend away from Maxwell?” When Alyssa snapped her gaze protectively in that direction, he continued, “That’s Olivia. You might want to check in on … what’s her name again?”

“Riley ...” Her tone was resentful. He knows damn well what her name is. 

“Whatever. Just trust me on this, if the two of you know what’s good for ya -- and I’m betting you don’t -- you’ll stay as far away from Olivia and the rest of these social-climbing fuckers as possible.” His mood suddenly shifted as he drained his drink, then slammed it on the bar top, motioning with his hand to the bartender for another.

Alyssa was quick to notice the tension in his jaw and the immense throb of protruding veins in his forearm as he nursed his drink. “What climbed up your ass and died? Why are you even here if you hate everyone so much? 

He quickly snapped. “I’m here for Liam!”

“Well, I’m here for Riley!” The two of them glared at each other in a tense showdown that neither was willing to back down from. After a beat, Alyssa’s determination weakened somewhat; confrontations made her jittery. 

And with him in particular.

Letting her shoulders slump, Alyssa let out a soft breath as she relaxed. “I’m trying to give her some space … but do I need to go check on Riley?” The question was asked sincerely. 

Drake turned his head back, his vision crossing the vast expanse of the room and landing on a perturbed Riley in conversation with Olivia. He scowled, recognizing the expression impressed on her face all too well. “We’re outsiders, Alyssa. You. Me. Riley. That’s the only thing they’ll ever see. It’s the only way they’ll ever treat us.” He shifted to face Alyssa again. “Take that for what you will. If she were my friend … I would.”

_______

Riley shook her head emphatically. “There’s no way I’m supposed to kiss the king’s shoe. That’s weird, creepy, and-and- unsanitary!” She nodded toward a masked couple standing before the seated king who bowed, curtsied, and then exited to the left. “They didn’t kiss his shoe. I think you’re full of shit.” 

“Riley, Riley, Riley.” The duchess shook her head with an exasperated tone. “Those people are well-established and highly-regarded members of the court … you’re not. And while I admit it’s a rather unorthodox Cordonian royal custom, it’s part of our tradition that the newest members humble themselves before the king in an act of deep respect and reverence. I’m actually astounded Maxwell never bothered to tell you.” She flipped back a thick curly-q strand of hair that hung over her shoulders. “Do what you want. But don’t say I didn’t try to help you.”

Riley hesitated. “I guess I’ll keep it in mind …?”

“Great!” Olivia wrapped a firm hand around Riley’s wrist and pulled her toward the throne where the king sat. “You’re so lucky that I was here to warn you! Otherwise, you’d have looked utterly ridiculous.”

“Wait! Where are we going? Riley demanded, her feet barely able to keep up with the brisk pace. 

“To present you to King Constantine.”

“But I need to wait for my sponsor!” Riley protested. She struggled to break free, but the redhead’s clawlike grip was surprisingly strong. 

“Every second counts, Riley. These women have all known Liam for years. The early bird gets the Crown.”

“But I --” Panicked, Riley scoured the room for the Beaumonts and found them standing near the hors d'oeuvres table embroiled in what appeared to be a heated discussion.

“What the fuck?” On the opposite side of the ballroom, Alyssa spotted Olivia hauling Riley across the floor. Before Drake had the chance to warn her this wasn’t good, an enraged Alyssa was already sliding down off the barstool, stampeding off in hot pursuit of finding out what this redheaded troll was doing with her best friend. 

And for reasons he couldn’t fully understand, feeling frustrated beyond comprehension, Drake followed right on her heels.

Coming to a screeching halt before the raised dais, Olivia thrust Riley forward, who nearly tripped from the momentum into the bottom step at the sudden stop.

It took every ounce of restraint Riley had not to turn toward the woman who had forcibly dragged her across the room and to stick a pair of size-seven heels straight up her ass. She, however, liked the pretty, sparkly shoes she had on too much to ruin them … and wanted to end the evening outside of a hospital bed. “Asshole,” she muttered almost soundlessly.

“Your Majesty,” Olivia smirked. “I would like to present to you the suitor House Beaumont has chosen. Lady Riley.”

Riley gave her a cursory glare. It was the moment of truth. She plastered on her best smile for the King, who regarded her with a nod. 

Just … just do it. “Your Majesty.” Riley dipped into a low curtsy and held it in place for several seconds before contemplating the validity of Olivia’s outlandish claim and swallowing hard. “Here goes nothing.”

Placing both palms on the plush red carpeting that laid at the feet of the King, she lowered herself slowly until her knees rested on the top step.

“What the hell is she doing?” Alyssa questioned as she desperately weaved around a sea of faces, dodging server trays and tables along the way. “And where the hell is Maxwell?”

“I don’t know ...” Drake answered, practically pushing her even more quickly through the crowd, “ … but you better move faster. There’s no damn telling what Olivia told her to do.”

Riley paused briefly, staring at the simple black shoes that almost resembled a shiny boot. She wanted to be kissing Liam right now, not his father’s old fricking foot. Worst vacation ever.

Lowering her head gradually toward Constantine’s shoes, she scrunched up her face and reluctantly puckered up. 

Out of nowhere, a body with the vigor of a wild stallion in full sprint barrelled into her side, sending Riley hurling across the dais and causing her to land face-down on the marbled floor below.

"What is the meaning of this?" An enraged Constantine bolted up, his ire focused on Alyssa, hunkered down on all fours at his feet, striving to catch her breath.

Maxwell and Bertrand heard the commotion and came rushing to Riley’s side when they realized it was her sprawled out and jerking on the floor.  

"I'm so sorry, Your Majesty," an apologetic Alyssa said as she reached up for the hand Drake was offering. The King's glare at her was nerve-wracking as he waited for an explanation -- until Drake stepped up in front of her, blocking her view of the incensed monarch. "I can explain."

"I hope you can, young lady." Constantine glowered, baffled as to why Drake Walker was still standing between them … and mirroring every movement she made. When she shifted, he shifted. When she moved her arm, he did the same. Was this some type of game?

“Uh … um.” Alyssa's mind raced with excuses. She couldn't very well tell him the truth and make Riley or herself look bad -- she was still a representative of Duchy Domvallier. There was only one thing she could think of to say as she whipped around Drake and pointed at him. "This man pushed me!"

Drake's body stiffened at her accusation. "The hell you talking about?" 

She covered her eyes with a hand, pretending to sob. "I was on my way up here to pay my respects to you, sir, when this man ..." she paused to take in a fake stuttering breath, "... came out of nowhere and pushed me from behind. I tried to stop myself from running into anyone, but I couldn't. Too much momentum." Alyssa lowered her hand and stared at a wide-eyed Drake. "I’m just a small person, mister. Why would you do that? Why? What did I ever do to hurt you?"

"I never --"

"Drake?" The King eyed him sternly. "Is this true? Did you push this young woman?"

Drake’s defensive stance was no match for Alyssa’s pleading eyes, begging him to save her from this. “Please,” she mouthed.

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “I … I’m sorry, Sir. Lady Alyssa’s extremely long dress was dragging the floor and I stepped on it. When I lifted my foot off, she ... I don’t know … flung forward. I tried to grab her before she went flying, but she got away, and that must be why she thought I pushed her.” Drake lowered his gaze to Alyssa. “You really shouldn’t shop in the adult section, miss.”

“Is it possible you were mistaken, Lady ... Alyssa?”

She nodded. “Yes, that is surely possible,” she agreed in a rehearsed-sounding tone. “It’s all coming back to me now.”

“Well, then.” Constantine's contented glance drifted to Drake. “It’s good to know you didn’t push an innocent suitor on purpose, Drake. But just know this … I’ll be watching you.” 

“Looking forward to it, sir. Thank you, sir.” Drake quickly bowed his head as Constantine returned to his seat to greet the next guest. He grabbed Alyssa’s elbow and rushed her off to the side of the dais.

-----------

Maxwell knelt beside a disheveled Riley, helping her rise to her feet and dusting her off. 

“Lady Riley,” a scowling Bertrand glared, “what on earth is the meaning of this? The glory of House Beaumont is on the line tonight, and you’ve already made your first blunder. I told you, Maxwell, this was a mistake.”

Slightly dazed, Riley stumbled while massaging a sore wrist. Inclining her head so she could see him under the halo that drooped over her eyes, she retorted, “I was shoved, Berturd. It’s not like I did this on purpose. And thank you for your concern; I’m fine, by the way.”

“Shoved? By whom?” The three of them turned to see Alyssa and Drake scampering off to a corner. “It was Domvallier’s suitor?” Bertrand asked incredulously. “This is preposterous! It’s beneath Lord Rashad’s character to have his suitor and Drake Walker sabotage ours. I will have to go over there and put an end to this travesty at once.” 

“NO!” Riley and Maxwell barked.

"Bertrand. Why don't you let Riley and I handle them while you play damage control with the King? Unless ..." he smirked. " You want me to smooth things over with His Majesty? I have a lot to say about how Twinkle Toes just SAILED through the air at warp speed --"

"Dear God, no, Maxwell! There will be no need for your … input. But, you two, get results from Drake and that suitor. No funny business," he warned.

The two of them nodded in understanding. As soon as Bertrand turned his back and marched away, they both gave a knowing glance to the other before rushing over to Drake and Alyssa, who had just made it to a far corner of the ballroom, 

Alyssa yanked her elbow away from his vice-like grasp. “I believe we’re out of the clear; you can let go of me now.”

“Listen. I have to tell you something, ‘cause you need to know it ... “ Drake swallowed thickly, his rounded eyes focused squarely on the woman who’d just thrown him under the bus to King Constantine. He spoke as if he had something caught in his throat, “You--your-- uh -- ”

“And who made these damn shoes, anyway?” Alyssa complained as she hiked up the lower part of her dress and stepped out of her heels. Her already short stature lowered several inches. “They clearly hate short women and feet. Seriously, who thought walking around like a newborn calf was sexy?”

“Alyssa,” Drake tried again to speak through a strained voice, “You need to listen --”

“Hey!” Riley interrupted as she and Maxwell stepped up to them. “Why’d you push me off that stage thingy? And OH MY GOD, ALYSSA! YOUR --” Maxwell slapped a hand over Riley’s mouth, knowing exactly what her big mouth was getting ready to loudly announce.

Her frantic muffled words continued to blabber through his tightly clasped hand.

Alyssa gave him a confused look. “Maxwell, what are you doing?”

“Just stopping her before she told everyone within earshot ...” he paused fleetingly, lowering his gaze from the muddled expression on her face to her chest. “Your bosoms … well, they have emerged.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you before,” a flustered Drake said as Alyssa let out a gasp and looked down. “You’ve been ... exposed … since --” He was quickly cut off again by her tiny wail as she fixed herself and dashed out of the ballroom, mortified, her arms crossed over her chest.

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

Riley tapped lightly on the women’s restroom door. “Lyss? You okay in there?”

“No!” Her pouty voice rang back. “I’m the laughingstock of this entire court.”

Maxwell chuckled, hollering back. “You don’t have to worry about that, Lady Alyssa. I’ve already got that title covered in spades.”

“You two need to get back to the ball,” Drake said gruffly, referring to the girls. “Liam will be arriving any minute.”

“You’re right. There are probably five people in there who still haven’t gotten an up close shot of my breasts.” Alyssa swung the door open, bitterly hitching up the front of her dress as she stepped out, and glared up at Drake as she walked by. “And you let me walk around like that!”

“I did not!” He flushed a deep, dark red. “I told you, that’s why I was standing in front of you, so no one would see … ugh, fuck it. Just -- let’s go, okay?” 

A remorseful Riley hugged Alyssa. “I’m so sorry my dumb ass was what caused this to happen to you. Thank you for making sure I didn’t make a fool of myself.”

Alyssa squeezed tighter. “It was way better that it happened to me than you. We can definitely have a good laugh over this by the time I’m, like, 150.” When they let go of one another, she smiled at her friend. “Come on, we have a ball to get back to. And you have a prince to dazzle.”

“Oh, you guys go on ahead. I need a minute to straighten up.”

Drake, Alyssa, and Maxwell headed back inside while Riley spent a few minutes in the bathroom wiping away the dust off her dress and getting her hair back in order as best as she could. Plus, she just needed a moment to herself; it was the first time since she woke up that morning that someone wasn’t hovering over her shoulder or trying to impress someone. There also were some major jitters happening knowing the Prince was arriving at any second.

Stepping out a few minutes later, Riley headed back down the hallway, hopeful she still appeared as presentable as when she arrived earlier. 

Dotted along the walls that trailed back to the ballroom were portraits and artwork of kings and queens. Judging by the large periwigs, justaucorps, and stockings over breeches depicted, obviously they were quite old. One particular painting caught her attention enough to halt her steps before she plastered on a naughty grin.

“Ohhhh, what do we have here?” Riley snickered, leaning in closer to get a better glimpse. “I see London, I see France, I see a very hung King without his pants.” She fanned a hand in front of her face and spoke as if she were Scarlett O’Hara herself. “My, my, my, Fabian, I haven’t seen a lot of those, but I do declare, you put all the Yanks I’ve been with to shame. I’d be remiss to not ask if you were generous enough to pass on certain sizable traits, say to … Oh, I don’t know, the current Crown Prince?”

“Frankly, my dear … I don’t think he gave a damn,” a deep voice quipped over her shoulder.

Riley spun around, her body crashing into the portrait and causing it to rattle against the wall and lean heavily. Her face burned red-hot as soon as she heard his voice, even though every ounce of blood in her body seemed to rush to her wobbly feet. Liam reached out, grasping hold of her arms to brace her as she stared back, slack-jawed and weak-kneed, at his half-masked face, smiling warmly. “L-L-Li --”

“My sincerest apologies if I startled you, my lady. Are you okay?”

Her throat was dry, and surely no one in all history had ever been as embarrassed as she was at that moment, but she managed to answer feebly, “I think … I pissed my pants.” They both looked down at the floor simultaneously, relief washing over them that there were no puddles. Riley closed her eyes and let out a heavy breath. “Oh, thank God.”

Liam chuckled, his twinkling blue eyes glued to her flustered face. “You’re just as beautiful as you were that night in New York, Riley Brooks.”

“Wait … you know that it’s me? Are you surprised? Are you upset? Do you think I’m some creepy stalker now? I swear I’ve never even touched a weapon.”

“Really? What happened to your bag of Chinese throwing stars?” Liam teased lightheartedly. Riley tilted her head in confusion. “You remember, the ones you were going to throw at me in the alley outside of your bar --”

“Oh. Yes. Right,” she laughed awkwardly as the memory came to her. “Yeah, I may have embellished the truth there a bit. Twenty-pound hams seem to be more my weapon of choice.” Riley hung her head. Why the hell did I just tell him that? When Bastien cleared his throat and gave Liam a pointed look, Riley knew their time was short. “I know you have to go, but I just need to know something: How did you know I was here? Maxwell tried to get in touch with you and never heard back. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me showing up here.”

“I’ve been quite busy since leaving New York with preparations for the social season and the Masquerade kicking off this evening. But it was Drake who came pounding on my door this morning to fill me in. You can imagine my surprise when he told me that you were here, and, I quote, ‘brought her small aggressive friend with her as guard dog.’”

Riley smirked with a shrug. “Can ya blame a girl? I came to win. Besides, I really like you, Liam.”

He smiled. “I really like you too, Riley. But this isn’t New York. As much as I wish we could just pick up where we left off two nights ago, this entire series of events is set up not just to give me time with my potential matches, but also to give my parents, the Council, and the people of Cordonia time to get to know the future queen. From now on, everyone will be watching you and ... Lady Alyssa.” Liam paused to chuckle and shake his head in amusement. “You actually got your friend to pose as a fake suitor and somehow convinced an honorable and highly dignified member of the court to sponsor her?”

“Yeaaaah, I still don’t know how the hell I did that. I should get extra points for my manipulation skills”

Liam laughed. "I believe you mean, negotiation skills."

Riley nodded. "Yeah, those too."

Already well past the time to make his grand entrance, Bastien approached Liam to give the final warning. Liam acknowledged him and turned back to Riley. “I hope I’ll see you again later tonight, if you’ll save a dance for me. But until then …” He pressed her willing body against the wall, tracing the back of his forefinger along her velvety cheek. “ … just know how very, very, happy I am to have you here, Riley.” His lips were fire and ice when he leaned down to meet her equally fevered ones in a lingering kiss. And she melted right into him.

With that, Liam was whisked away by the head guard and made his way into the ballroom. As a panting Riley brushed her fingertips over the tingling in her bottom lip, she felt so many things all at once: relief that he was happy she was there and already knew everything regarding Alyssa, and that same exhilarating bliss that swept her off her feet two days ago when they shared their time together. But he was abundantly clear, this wasn’t New York anymore, and he still had a duty and obligation to Cordonia regardless of his apparent feelings for her. 

Riley let a puff of air and pushed her backside off the wall to return inside. Just as she did this, the crooked frame bearing the likeness of the late King Fabian she admired earlier fell from its hook and crashed to the floor, causing the ancient glass to shatter beside her. With her head shrunken into her shoulders, Riley slowly peeked out one eye and saw the damage. Glancing down one end of the hall to the other to see if anyone saw her, she glanced down at the shards and still fully intact artwork. Normally she would have hightailed it out of there, but she couldn’t help herself from giving her destruction parting words. 

“I guess you’re not … hung anymore.”

Then she bolted the hell out of there.

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

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[kanene-yaaay]

5+1 - [Part 2]

5 times Iida was tickled and the one he wasn’t

[PART ONE]

Kanene’s note: What a helloooo! I am baack! Gosh, look at me! Having a posting schedule! Who would say, huh? xDD Well, I hope you like this >u<

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to the anime/manga Boku no Hero.

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic with family tickles, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of very greeat arts in this site!! ^w^)b

* This is Lee!Iida with Ler!Aizawa and Nemuri sprinkling some tease here and there. All relationships are platonic. Around 1.500 words.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Look at the window and find something that is worth smiling for. Don’t forget to drink water, sleep and eat! <33

[~*~]

“Iida Tenya.”

 “Ooooh noo,” Nemuri added from the spot on the floor where she sat, pampering and spoiling Shouta’s cats with plenty of snacks, a sharp grin gleaming at the boy who came running from the kitchen and now looked from a side to another with a panicked expression on his face, fast to move his arms in an ‘abort mission’ sign to the woman. “Looks like someone is in trouble! ~”

 “Nemuri-san, please I ask for you to control your voice!!” Tenya whispered in a volume that most people would categorize as a shout, especially with Shouta’s hero trained hearing. Nemuri, though, just expanded her wicked grin as the nine old boy didn’t realize the dark figure arriving right behind him. “He can’t know I am here!”

 “Aw, my dear,” she pouted in fake empathy at Iida’s inevitable fate, scratching Pudding under her chin, her loud motor like purring echoing in the silence. “But Shouta already knows.” Iida stilled as a statue when a shadow loomed over him, starting to turn around, slowly. “He always knows.”

 “Gotcha.”

His quirk activated a second before Aizawa erased it with his own, making the blue haired one stumble on his own legs, almost falling on the ground if it wasn’t for the arms that grabbed him in a firm hug, fingers worming their way to his armpits, prodding and digging on the awfully ticklish flesh there.

 “What,” Shouta started, with a tune that tipped on bored, his plain face contrasting to the smaller’s puffed cheeks as he wiggled and shook with the contained giggles. “Did I say about my orange flavored jelly packs, huh?”

 “Aww, is the itsy bitsy Tenya ticklish? Can’t he take all the tickly-tickly-tickly tickles his favorite grumpy uncle gives to him? Huh? Aww, my poor ticklish boy.” Nemuri teased, ignoring the glare her friend sent on her direction in favor to stare at Tenya, who went redder at her words, a couple of squeaky snorts escaping from his lips.

 “I will remind you what I said about eating my jellies without permission: don’t. Never. Do not look. Do not touch and especially, do not even think about eating it.” Aizawa highlighted the last phrase by blowing a raspberry right behind Iida’s neck, leading the boy to squeal, uncontrolled laughter following it almost immediately. The taller man did his best to keep a serious face, principally as the arms of his ‘victim’ rocked up and down, from the left to the right and in random patterns without even being able to get themselves enough control to attempt to stop him. “And you did, so now you will face the consequences. It’s only logical.”

 “A-Aizahahazawa-san I, I cahahahAAH!” Shout cut the other’s protest by throwing him in the air, resting his hands on his sides when he caught him again, slightly clawing his stomach with his fingers, fishing uncontrollable, bubbly giggles from him. “Please, please! I can-'' Snort. “I can ehehexplain!” Yelp. Half words, Half pleas. Giggles. Giggles. Giggles. “I hahahave the right, Aizawa-sahahahan!”

 Shouta contented himself in making the younger squirm – left, right, left, left, right and repeat – from a side to another by tapping his fingers on his sides repeatedly, sometimes giving a quick scratch only to gain another yelp, pretending to think about the proposal for a little less than a minute.

 “No.” He decided, spidering his fingers merciless on the death spot. Iida threw his head back, crackles flying from him in a waterfall of shrieks and squeaks.

 “Come one, Shou! Let the boy speak! As much I love this lovely, absolutely adorable laughter that makes you want to tickle and tickle him forever and ever, and aww, wouldn’t you love it, my dear? To get all the tiggles-tickles you could ever want for all eternity?” Iida kicked and shook his head in protest, more pleas falling from him, face and neck in flames. “I think he has the right to defend himself.”

 “Which side are you?”

 “No side deserves my awesome presence.” Aizawa rolled his eyes. “What is the matter, Shou? Afraid that you will lose in a logical battle with baby Tenya?”

 “Ihihihi am NOT ahahaha baby!!” Iida protested through his hysterical laughter, nothing giving him more strength than correct factually incorrect statements. “I ahahahaham a very hehehealthy chihihihih- – No! Not there! – chihihihild! Mom said so!”

 Nemuri hid her snickers behind her hands, receiving a very unamused yowl from Pudding, the cat demanding her to come back to her ear scritches immediately. The woman resumed to her wishes.

Shouta recognized a bait when he heard one, but watching the way tears started to appear in the corner of the younger’s eyes, he decided to bite it.

 He adjusted him so the boy would be resting on his hips, his hand resting calmly on his ribs, a much less ticklish spot.

 “You have fifty seconds.”

 “WHAT!” Iida stared at him in disbelief, turning to look at Kayama in the search of reinforcements, and being gifted with nothing more than a joyful shrug, his brother’s best friend being very glad in just watch the chaos unraveling in front of her and, unnoticed by the other two who were caught up on the silliness, the camera carefully hidden behind Pudding’s fluffy form. “That ihihisn’t even a minute! It’s impossiblehe to mahahake a good defehense under this condici- conditionaries… undeheher that pressure!”  

 “Conditions.” Aizawa offered, “and heroes work under pressure. You want to be one when you grow up, right?”

 “Yes!” Iida’s smile got even bigger than it already was, his eyes also becoming even brighter, shining with the determination of his new challenge.

 “Good,” the tired adult smirked, starting to count with his fingers as the seconds went by. “Start to talk then.”

 Tenya tried to clear his mind, together with keeping his resolve strong enough to not visibly squirm or titter every time Aizawa made any infinitesimal move. He never thought he would really be able to convince his uncle to let him make a true attempt to escape from this, therefore he didn’t possess any good enough reason to explain besides the ‘it was orange flavored and oranges are delicious!’

 A sentence pulled him out of the frenzy of thoughts dashing on his brain at full speed. “You have twelve seconds now.”

 “WHAT!” Tenya cried, seriously thinking about just pushing Shouta’s arms away and trying to run to the safety of the guest room.

 “You seem to have a problem keeping track of the time.” The small kid nodded at his direction and Aizawa almost felt bad by his next move.

 Almost.

 “Let me help you, then.”

 The underground hero poked an index finger on the lowest rib, vibrating on the sensitive spot for a few pieces of second, tearing a sputtering guffaw as Iida realized the true meaning of his words. “One.” He pressed another rib, and another, and another. “Two. Three. Four…”

 “Noho! Wait! Wait!!”

 “Five… Six. Seven…”

 “Oops. It looks like you’re running out of time, sweetheart.” Nemuri added, unhelpfully. “Well, let’s just hope the mean Shouta won’t attack those awfully ticklish knees of yours when the time is over, right?”

 “NOHOT MY KNEHES!”

 “Good luck. Ten. Eleven. Twel-”

 “YOULIED!”

 Aizawa stopped.

 “What?” He blinked one, two, three times. As if the meaning of the rushed words would become clearer. “No. I hid it and I was very clear in saying you couldn’t touch it. There is no lie here.”

 “There is! A lie of omiz-” Iida closed his eyes, concentrating on the word and controlling the few giggles that still slipped from his mouth. He wanted to be a hero and heroes succeed through the pressure! “omission! Which means hiding! You hid the information so you were lying to me, so I… I… I taught you a lesson!”

 They stared at each other for what seemed a lifetime.

 Aizawa huffed a chuckle, lowering the boy to the ground, trying to not be blinded by the excitement and proudness exhaling from the younger when he realized that he succeeded in “logicing” his way out of the playful “punishment”, beaming on the ball of his feet at both adults.

 “Good. In a fight, using your opponents’ words against them can be an important tool. Also, as a physical opening, don’t forget that I was carrying you, which means that if you hit the back of my knees hard enough I would weaken my grip and that would give you the opportunity to run. I would try to not hurt you when I fell, so that is also a weakness you could exploit.” After a thought, he added. “Try to do that the next time Hizashi tickles you.”

 “You are a bastard.” Kayama replied, earning an exasperated gasp from Tenya. “Not you, dear. I am talking about Shouta.” That did nothing to alleviate the boy’s rebellion, his lecture of how ‘This isn’t the proper vocabulary of a hero’ was soon interrupted as the apartment door flew open, Ingenium walking through it. He immediately extended his arms, hugging his brother when the aforementioned jumped on him, part of the exhaustion of a day’s work being eased by the younger attics.

 “Tensei! Tensei! I already did all my homework and I brushed my teeth and I played with the cats so they would not be sad or bored and I ate all my greenies and also-”

 “-ate all my orange jelly packs.” Aizawa completed.

 “And Aizawa-san tickled me because of it! Using very villainous techniques even though he is a very good and skilled hero! But then I won! I showed him logic and, and, and then he let me go!”

 “Oof, that sounds like a very exciting day!” Tensei ruffled the boy’s hair, fondness dripping in waves from his acts and words. “But you don’t need to worry anymore about Shouta, the Grumpy Tickle Monster because now I am here!” Tensei posed in a poor representation of All Might's usual pose. “Ready to protect you!”

 “Oh.” A dangerous tune marked Shouta’s grin and voice, making the blue haired hero to shiver with all the teenagerhood memories that this brought over. “Don’t get over yourself, assuming you’re out of danger, too.”

 A wobbly smile took over Tensei's expression as Shouta cracked his knuckles, preparing himself for a chase. “Don’t think I don’t know exactly who told him where I hid my jelly packs.” The older Iida got his younger brother on his arms, flexing his legs, preparing to not give up so easily.

 Aizawa decided he was feeling merciful today.

“You have three seconds.” Iida gasped in protest, an argument on the tip of his tongue. “Run.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Masks We Wear

Warnings: non-consent sex, depression, suicide, self-harm, drugging, overdose. If you don’t like any of these themes, do not keep reading. For real, it’s hidden under a keep reading link so you can check out now. Take care of yourselves, my dudes.

This is dark!Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Synopsis: You find yourself at the end of your rope but someone unexpected picks up the other end.

Note: I wrote this for me and I won’t apologize for that. I love a sweet Steve that turns slowly. Heed the warnings.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You stared at the number. The digits slowly punched into your phone glaring back at you. Your finger hovered over the icon that would connect the call. The screen blurred in your vision as the tears rose again.

Had it really come to this?

You had to call. You knew that. If you didn’t…

You hit call and raised the phone shakily to your ear. You hugged your legs as you sat on the floor against the side of the couch. You still wore your work uniform, a navy shirt and dark pants. You played with your name tag as you waited for the line to pick up.

"You have reached the National Crisis Lifeline. If you are in emotional distress or suicidal crisis or are concerned about someone who might be, we're here to help. Please remain on the line while we route your call to the nearest crisis center in our network." The automated voice recited the greeting as you unclipped the tag and set it on the arm of the couch behind your head. 

It wasn't too late to hang up. To suck it up. You could help yourself. You were an adult. So why was it that you couldn't put the phone down?

"Hello, my name's Steve. Who am I talking to today?" The voice was placid, calm. You were thankful not to be met with the usual, fake, chipper customer service voice.

"Uh," you uttered. You stared at the window across from you and blinked. "Um, um, um." 

"Take a breath," the voice was male; soothing. "Whenever you're ready."

You inhaled and closed your eyes. You bent your elbow over your knees and dropped your head. You said your name and sniffed. " I don't know why I called."

"We don't have to talk about why you called. We can just talk." He offered.

You cleared your throat and wiggled your nose as you felt more tears prick at your eyes. "I don't have much to talk about. I work, I come home, I sleep, rinse, repeat. Even when I have free time I got… nothing. No one."

"You don't have family?" He asked.

"Not that I talk to."

"Hmm, have you ever thought of reaching out to co-workers? You already spend hours with them."

"Most of them are kids. College freshman who'd rather do anything else than hang with me." You sat up and leaned your head against the couch. "I'm a thirty-year-old loser. I work retail and eat ramen for dinner. I may as well burn my degrees… maybe along with this damn box I live in."

He said your name, gently. "I want you to take another breath and then tell me three good things about your life. Just three. It can be something that happened today, it can be something you own, it can be something you like about yourself, or even something you can do tomorrow to look forward to."

You scoffed and shook your head. He repeated your name and you swallowed your resent.

"Alright," you took a breath, "I have a roof over my head." 

"Good."

"I… I made a woman happy today by finding her a gift for her daughter."

"Mhmm."

"And… and I still have some of my favourite tea left."

"Amazing. See?"

"I guess but… but these things are so small and it's always the same. Nothing ever changes. Nothing's going to change and nothing is going to get better."

"Change is small, like those things, so sometimes it's harder to see those changes."

You were silent. Tired. 

"I want to ask you something, okay? You don't have to answer if you're uncomfortable."

"Alright?" You shrugged.

"Have you ever hurt yourself or thought of hurting yourself?"

The question made you squirm. The tears finally broke through and trickled down your cheeks.

"Yes… but it's better than hurting someone else, isn't it?"

"No, because you're still hurting someone. In fact, you're hurting the most important person in your life. Right?"

You were quiet again. You wiped away your tears and leaned your chin in your hand. 

"Sure."

"I want you to do something for me. Actually for yourself, okay? I want you to go get some of that tea and make yourself a cup. Then I want you to drink it slow and enjoy it. Every last sip."

"What?" You snorted.

"I want you to make it a habit. Every day I want you to do one nice thing for yourself."

"It's just tea."

"What kind of tea is it?"

”It's this blueberry lemon stuff I found down at the market. Nothing special."

"That sounds delicious." He said. "Where are you right now? Are you sitting? Standing?"

"I'm sitting by my couch. On the floor."

”Alright, baby steps. Stand up.” 

You huffed but did as he said. "Okay?"

”Now, let's go to the kitchen.”

Again, you obliged him.

”Now, let's get the kettle on and a mug.”

”Alright," you grumbled and took out everything you needed as he listened from the other end, ”Alright, it's all good to go.”

”And what are you thinking about?”

"The tea?" You said dumbly.

"And? Anything else?"

"No. Just…"

"When you get frustrated with standing still, it's not about making big leaps. It's about the small things. So don't think about what's happened or what's going to happen. Think about what you can do now. Think about the present and what you can do to make it a little better for yourself.”

You frowned. He was making sense. You hadn't been worried about your wasted years in university or the angry customers on your horizon, you had been thinking about the tea and what mug to use. All that stuff didn't matter in that moment.

"You said you're Steve?” You asked.

”Yes,” he answered softly.

”Thank you. I… I'm sorry if I wasted your time."

"You didn't. You're not.” He assured you. ”We can keep talking if you like.”

"No, no, I think… I'll enjoy my tea and you can help someone else."

"Alright, but will you do me another favour?"

"Um, sure?" You watched the kettle, a long way from whistling.

"I work every Tuesday and Thursday after six. Will you call me next week? I'll give you my extension. Just let me know you're okay and how the tea was, okay?"

"I…” you rubbed your chin and turned to lean on the counter, "yeah, I'll call."

📞

You decided to call Steve on Tuesday. The same nerve-wracking wait before the line picked up and you quickly punched in the extension he gave you. There was a beep as you were held on call waiting and you fiddled with the edge of the notebook where you'd written down his information.

He picked up after two minutes. The same greeting as before. 

"It's me." You gave your name and winced as you wondered if he even remembered you.

"Hey," he said smoothly, "Good to hear from you. Did you have a tea today?

"Um, now, I just got home."

"Well, did you do anything nice for yourself?"

"...no." You admitted.

"Well, then go make a tea and tell me everything else you've done this week to be good to yourself."

"I…” you stood stiffly and went to the kitchen. "I haven't… I went to the park on my day off," You filled the kettle and put it on the stove, "But I've been working mostly."

"That's it?"

"I've been busy," you said.

"You don't have five minutes for you?" He asked doubtfully. "You gotta make the time. Even if it's just five minutes to sit down and clear your head."

You opened the cupboard and stared at the line of mugs, each one different than the last.

"Steve…" you said carefully, "What do you do when you're not doing… this?"

"Tell me what you do and I'll tell you." He countered.

You sighed and grabbed the mug shaped like a teddy bear. " I work at a clothes shop. I know, it's exciting."

"What kind of clothes do you sell?" He asked.

"I don't know… mostly, uh, business stuff." You placed the cup down and fished out the blueberry tea. "I sell clothes to people with more important jobs."

"Your job is important. You help people. You told me yourself last week. You know, I help people too. How we help isn't as important as the fact that we do help."

You rubbed your chin as you fingered the chip along the handle of the mug. "How exactly do you help people, then?"

"Well, I do this," He answered, "And I work security."

"Security? Like at a bank or something?"

"Or something," He replied, "So, did you just call to tell me you're okay or did you wanna talk about it?"

"I told you, not much changes." You muttered.

"It will once you take my advice. One thing a day. Got it?" He urged. "I want you to start by going to the market tomorrow and getting yourself a new flavour of tea."

"I gotta work," you bemoaned.

"Five minutes on your way home," he said, "we're not looking for the perfect tea, just something new. Then you call me and tell me if it's any good."

"I thought… I thought you didn't work Wednesdays."

"You're right," he chuckled as if he hadn't realised. "Tell you what, I'll give you my number and you text me. Every time you do something for you, let me know… and if you don't, I'll remind you. Deal?"

"I… I don't know." You picked at your nail as you held your phone between your shoulder and ear.

"One text a day. That's all." He said. "Wouldn't hurt to have someone on your side, would it?"

"I g-guess," You stuttered as you caught your phone before it could slip. "I'll get a pen."

📞

The texts were small at first. ‘Had a tea’, ‘started a new book’, ‘read a chapter on my way to work’, or ‘bought a piece of cake on my lunch’. Each one seemed more absurd than the last but after a few weeks it became a habit. Steve nearly always responded quickly, just a few encouraging words but it made the days easier. It made life easier even when the big things got you down.

It was your day off. You took on a few extra hours the week before so you decided to go out for your treat that day. You went about your routine slowly, not your usual frantic I gotta catch the train pace. You preened yourself and pulled out a pair of pale jeans and a knit sweater. You tucked your feet into your comfy sneakers and headed out with your purse and headphones.

You would take a long walk through the park then sneak out the east gates to grab something special from the coffee place just across the street. Then you would head back and enjoy the scenery as you sipped at whatever overpriced concoction you settled on.

It was the early days of fall. The warm air was undercut with a cool breeze; an omen of the seasons to come. You put one earbud in and tucked your hands in your pocket as you walked along the winding path. The leaves were still green and lush and the air smelled of pollen. You stopped on the small bridge that crossed the small creek at the centre of the park.

You continued on and checked the time. It didn’t matter, you had the whole day to yourself. Like Steve said, think about now, not then, not later.

You came out onto the New York sidewalk and neared the curb. You looked both ways before dodging between the stagnant traffic and hopped up onto the pavement on the other side. You neared the short iron fence that edged the patio of the coffee shop and joined the queue of people as you looked over the menu.

Hmm, a rose-infused latte was different. You’d never thought of flowers in your tea but you never were overly creative. You ordered, the largest size despite your troublesome bladder, and waited for your turn to grab your cup from the ledge. It was busy that day and you hid against the wall to keep out of the way of others.

Your name was called and you grabbed your cup. You went to a table and slid your phone from your pocket. You snapped a frame of the drink and typed beneath it before you hit send. ‘Today’s little thing is actually a large :)’.

You pushed your phone back into your pocket and wove your wait to the exit. You were stopped as your name was called for a second time. You turned as a blonde haired man neared you. He was oddly familiar. Startlingly, actually. 

Steve Rogers was calling your name. Not such a strange sight in the city but you’d never chanced to see him beyond a television screen or magazine cover.

“Hey, what are the odds?” He showed you the phone in his hand; the picture of your drink stared back at you. “I never thought--” He smiled. “Oh, this is weird, isn’t it?”

“Steve?” Your eyes were round and your mouth fell open. “You’re… oh, wow, I…”

Someone else called his name and he peeked over his shoulder. “I’m up. Would you… would you wait for me?”

You nodded dumbly and watched him stride through the crowd to take his coffee from the counter. He gave a thanks and dropped a large tip into the jar. You watched in shock, barely stepping out of the way of another customer.

He passed through the opening of the fence and neared again. You snapped your mouth shut and swallowed. Your mouth was dry but the steam rising from the cup warned you it was too hot.

“How… how did you know it was me?” You asked.

“Well, I heard your name and then saw you with your phone and uh, well, the message was just confirmation of my suspicions, really.” He grinned. “Which way you heading?”

“Um, I came through the park,” You pointed across the street. “Probably not your neighbourhood.”

“I can make a detour,” He waved you towards the street and you hid behind a car as you waited to cross. 

He stepped out first and caught your hand before you could fall behind. He pulled you to the other side and you nearly stumbled onto the curb.

“Sorry,” he let go suddenly, “You know New York drivers.”

“No, it’s… fine,” You walked beside him as he neared the archway that fronted that end of the park. “I’m just… I’m gonna be honest I’m a bit shocked right now.”

“I know it’s weird and a bit… unethical. At the centre, we’re not supposed to associate with callers outside but… it’s all just a happy coincidence, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I, uh, suppose,” you lifted the cup and inhaled the sweet aroma of sugared petals, “but I’d hate to get you in trouble.”

“Nah, it’s fine, if you don’t tell, I won’t.”

“I… can delete your number.” You offered, “You didn’t have to--”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” He eschewed, “It’s fine. I just… you didn’t seem to like calling the hotline but I didn’t want you to get lost in the shuffle.”

You chewed your lip and played with the strap of your purse. You let out a breath, heavy and anxious. You’d never expected to meet Steve. More so, you didn’t expect him to be THE Steve Rogers. You had spilled out your ridiculous insecurities to him. God, he must have thought you were so pathetic.

“I’m fine,” you said, “I would’ve… been fine. I was just in a bad spot.”

“So…” He walked close to you. His cologne smelled of sandalwood. “How’s work?”

“It’s work,” you shrugged, “Wait, you said you did security. Jesus!”

“Well, I do, in a sense,” he chuckled, “You know they really don’t encourage me telling people I’m an avenger at the centre. It kinda shifts the attention in the wrong direction.”

“Hmm, I guess it would,” you muttered, “Well, thank you, for all your help. Really, you have helped.”

“I never expected… I don’t know what I expected,” he went on, “how I pictured you. I just didn’t-- Not that-- I don’t mean...” 

He shut up and cringed. He looked around at the trees and let out a sigh.

“You’re right, this isn’t a little thing,” he mused, “it’s beautiful out here.”

“Yeah,” you said rigidly and raised your cup to your lips and tasted the foam, “I guess I’m just happy it isn’t raining on my day off.”

📞

Steve walked you to the other side of the park and you left him there. You finished your latte in the block before your apartment. You were still shaken from the meeting. The chance of such an encounter was so vast you hadn’t even thought of it. You had built yourself up to talk to a stranger on the phone and leave it at that, not to face him and your problems all in one. You were embarrassed despite Steve’s friendliness. You couldn’t help but feel the taint of pity.

You tried to leave your shame on the street. You went up to your apartment and slid the chain into place. You turned on some music and did your leftover dishes, a sense of accomplishment as you wiped down the counters afterward. The rest of the day was yours to do with as you wished. But you were restless. The feeling that made you want to pace and chew your nails.

You flipped on the television and opened your phone to stream some mindless video from Youtube. You settled on a compilation of clips from a reality show and slumped onto the couch. As you laid back, your phone shook your hand and a notification flashed across the top.

‘Hope you got home safe.’ Steve’s message disappeared just as you read it. You pulled down the status bar and hit the bubble to open the chat.

‘I did. Thanks. Funny running into you. Hope the rest of your day is good.’ The message was clunky and awkward. The whole thing was weird and you just wanted to forget about the run-in.

‘So what else are you doing on your day off?’ His next message made your phone buzz and you blinked at it. He never really said much in return, just things like ‘that’s awesome’ or a few emojis. You thought of how excited he had been to see you. You were sure he talked to hundreds of people so why?

‘Watching TV’, you answered and put your phone down on your stomach. You tried to focus on the television but your phone rattled again.

‘I don’t want to overstep but can I ask you something?’ You were on edge as you read the message three times over.

‘Okay.’

‘You think you might want to get coffee again next week?’

You hesitated. Was he asking you out? No, that couldn’t be it. Was he merely checking in to make himself feel better? That was a better explanation. Believable. You let the screen turn black and thought. You could say no. Probably should.

You unlocked the phone as you heart pumped in your chest. It was Steve Rogers. What harm was there in saying yes? Maybe, for once, you would actually make a friend.

📞

You met at the same coffee shop. This time you sat down and got a scone with your tea. Steve got a coffee and nothing else. It seemed an afterthought as he only watched you pick at the crumbly dessert.

“Are you okay?” He asked as you sipped from your tea.

“Yeah, just… I’m sorry, I’m just a quiet person.” You shied away. 

“That’s fine,” he said, “I understand, you don’t talk to many people outside work.”

You frowned and sat back. He was right but it didn’t make the truth easier to hear. You nodded and shrugged.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way. I guess I have the same problem, you know. I spend most of my time with my team members or talking to the press.” He rested his hand around his mug. “It’s nice to have someone who isn’t tied up in all of that.”

“I mean… I’m just… me.” You ran your nail down the side of your cup. 

“And? I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. I think you’re too hard on yourself.” He insisted.

“Well, you barely know me,” you countered.

“I don’t? How many people know about the dark times? How many people do you let know?” He asked.

“It’s not… it’s not their business.” You crumpled the napkin and tossed it on the empty plate.

“It might help if you opened up more. You said you were lonely--”

“I was having a bad day,” You snapped. “Steve, I don’t… I didn’t come here to talk about all of that.”

“Then why did you come?”

“Because you asked me to.”

“And why do you think I asked you?”

You shrugged and crossed your arms.

“I asked you because I see what you can’t.” He said evenly. “You’re kind, you’re smart, you’re beautiful to be completely honest, and you won’t let yourself see it because the world hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows for you.”

“I-- I--” You sputtered and looked around. “No.” You stood and gathered up your dishes. “I gotta go.”

“You’re doing it right now,” He stood too and blocked your way, “Trying to run from the little bit of good.”

“I don’t know you. The only reason we ever met is because I was going to--” You gulped, unable to force the words out. “I think this was a mistake.”

You pushed past him and planted your dishes on the counter. You stormed out as Steve followed and the door jingled behind you. He trailed you across the patio and onto the sidewalk. He caught your arm and pulled you back.

“I’m trying to help you,” he hissed.

“I don’t need you to save me, Captain,” You yanked your arm away. “I’m not one of your missions.”

His brows drew together and his lips turned down. He had never looked anything but happy, neutral at worst.

“Fine, go,” He threw up his hand, “But I’ll be around if you need me. When you need me.”

You spun and stomped away from him. You were humiliated, assured of your worst suspicions. You were a pet project to him. He was trying to fix you. Another rescue mission for the First Avenger. Next time, you would listen to your gut and say no.

📞

Work. Again. It was dead and Marcy, your manager had you dusting the racks for the fifth time that day. You dragged the duster over the already shining rod that held hangers of dress shirts. You felt your phone vibrate and ignored it. Likely just another reminder to claim your daily prize in that stupid word game.

You kept on as you were, staring out the windows of the store front onto the shining street. Your phone buzzed again and you peeked over at Marcy. She was reading one of her novellas behind the large counter. She never hid it very well but really didn’t seem to care either.

You slid your phone out and moved onto the next rack. It had been over a week since Steve had messaged you. He had tried several times after the tense coffee date but had given up at your silence.

‘How are you?’ He asked as if you hadn’t been ignoring him. You pushed the phone back in your pocket and it vibrated for a third time. You should just block him already. You took it back out and ready the next message. ‘I know you’re working but you can answer me.’

You squeezed the phone and blacked the screen. You put it away and returned to your futile dusting. The door opened as you neared it and you stopped short as one of the only customers of the day stepped inside. You gaped as Steve looked around with a grin.

You heard Marcy clear her throat and you looked over at her. You shifted on your feet and lowered the duster.

“Hello, sir. Welcome to Silkz, how can I help you today?” Your throat was tight as he focused on you.

“You know, I need a gift for… a friend but she’s a bit hard to please.” He said. 

“Oh,” Your lip twitched as you tried to smile. Marcy was always nagging you for your resting bitch face. “Well, what were you thinking, sir? A scarf? Some jewelry?”

“Maybe a dress. I always tell her she needs to change things up and I think it would be a good switch up.” He replied and stepped a little closer.

“Over here,” You said abruptly and backed up as you waved to the wall behind you. “This is our new collection. Lots of reds this fall.”

You glanced at Marcy as she smiled primly and her eyes fell back to her tale of romance. Steve followed you closely as you touched a long-sleeved burgundy dress with a pleated skirt.

“This should be plain enough that it should fit anyone’s taste. Of course without being too plain.” You offered. “Did you know what size you would need?”

“Oh, she’s about your size,” Steve said, “And I was thinking something less… well something with more skin.”

You nearly tripped over your own feet as you tried to keep your distance from him and found a dress in a lighter shade of red with cutouts at the sides and a slimmer silhouette. You grabbed it and held it almost like a shield. He barely even looked at it.

“I’m sure it will look wonderful on her,” he remarked, “Can you show me the jewelry? I might get her something to go with it.”

The jewelry stand was in the other corner. Far from Marcy as she kept to one side of the counter and hunched over her book. You rounded a table of folded slacks and led him to the rack. He followed and stopped beside you as he took a necklace with a feather ornament and pretended to look at it.

“You haven’t been answering me,” he said under his breath.

“Yeah, might be a hint,” you retorted, “what are you doing here?”

“Checking in. Making sure you’re okay… since no one else knows how you can get.”

“Do you realise how fucked up this is?” You hissed. “I… You can’t bring those things up.”

“You won’t. You can’t outrun it forever. I see it in you. You told me yourself. You’re desperate for a change.” He hung the necklace again. “I can change everything for you.”

“What do you want?”

He looked down and took a bracelet from the rack; a silver band with a red rose ornament. He held it out to you. “I want a change too.”

You took the bracelet and backed away with the dress folded over your arm. “Is that everything?” You said loudly.

“For now,” he answered as he kept close and you kept away by rounding the other side of the counter, “I think she’ll love it… it’ll look great on her.”

“I’m sure it will,” you said as you scanned the items. “How are you paying, sir?”

📞

The rest of your day dragged by. There were no distractions to keep you from thinking of your run in with Steve. It was as if he had flipped a switch. No long the cheerful, concerned man, there was something sinister behind his otherwise caring words. The way he’d watched you, followed you so closely, the mere tone of his voice. He was angry and you couldn’t help but feel you had asked for it.

You left reluctantly as Marcy locked up. You caught the train, watching over your shoulder. You had never told Steve where exactly you worked, you realised as you swayed with the movement of the subway. There were dozens of clothing stores in the city, how had found yours?

You got off and climbed the steps to your apartment. Would it be too much to file a report? He hadn’t done anything but bought some merchandise from the store you happened to work in. But he had offered his number to a caller at the centre and he had pursued her beyond that. Yet, you had agreed to it all.

You were, as ever, so stupid.

You stepped off at your floor and your hands fumbled with your keys. You couldn’t calm down. There was something so off about all of it. Steve showing up, the way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you. You pushed inside and swung the door shut before you could process what awaited you within.

Steve leaned against the back of your couch, arms crossed, as he watched you expectantly. Your hand lingered on the door and he shoved himself away from the sofa. He tutted his warning.

“You won’t make it down the hall but I don’t mind a chase.” He sneered. “You’ve already taken me on one, haven’t you?”

“I don’t--Steve… whatever it is you think…”

“I think I’ve only tried to help you. I think you just like to be the way you are. Low, sad, pathetic.  I can make you more.” He neared and you pressed yourself to the door. “I will make you more. I will make you happy.”

“Please,” you whimpered as he took your purse from you and placed it on the table beside the door.

“Shhh,” he ran his fingers along your cheek, “You know what they always told us at the crisis center; you gotta hit bottom before you can lift yourself up.”

You shuddered as he dragged his thumb across your lip.

“This is your bottom, sweetie.” His hand dropped to your shoulder and ran down your arm. He took your hand and pulled you away from the door.

He led you around the couch and sat, taking you with him. You tugged against his grasp and he squeezed your hand painfully.

“Sweetie, I just got us a nice bottle of wine.” He smiled. “Take a breath, have a glass, relax. We’re going to figure this all out. Together.”

Your lip trembled as your thoughts bloomed all once; the confusion, the fear, the despair bubbled up and left you speechless. He replaced his hand with a glass of wine and held your fingers around it. He let go gently and you held onto the glass if only to keep from falling apart entirely.

“Go on, have a drink.” He urged.

You looked at the dark red alcohol. You were never much of a drinker. Your father had been a lush. Your heart sank as you found it impossible to move. He pressed two fingers to the base and pushed it up until the rim was at your lips. You drank and he tipped the glass until you emptied it. When he let you lower it, you were dizzy and your stomach burned.

You placed the glass down and fell back against the couch. You touched your hot cheeks and he leaned in as he watched you. “The alcohol will add to the effect but I’ll call someone before it’s too late.”

“Effect? What?” You touched your forehead and your lashes fluttered. You tried to breathe away the wine but the spinning only got worse. “What did you do?”

Your vision was blurry as you looked over at him. He put his phone to his ear as his other hand rested on your thigh. “Hello? Yes, I need- I need help.” His voice was frantic, perfectly believable. “My girlfriend, she-- she’s passed out. I found her on the floor… I think she took something. Please, I can’t get her to wake up.”

He played the part so well you even believed him as you were drawn deeper and deeper into the void. Your eyes rolled back as you heard him give your address and you slumped against the arm of the couch. Your limbs were heavy, your head heavier. You couldn’t resist the warmth that surrounded you.

📞

You woke up to steady beeping. The sterile smell of the hospital made your nostrils dry and you groaned as you fought to open your eyes. Your entire being hurt; inside and out. The bright lights made your head throb and a figure beside you moved closer. Your vision cleared slowly as you looked at Steve and he took your hand in his.

“I’ll get the nurse, sweetie,” He said. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Wha-- St--” Your tongue felt thick in your mouth.

He left you and returned with a woman in green scrubs. She made a note on your chart and looked at the machines you were attached to. She was gone just as quickly and left you with Steve who once more clung to your hand.

“I’m here for you, sweetie. We’ll get through this together?”

“What… what did…” You mumbled, “what did you do?”

“I saved you,” he rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

“Alright,” The doctor swept through the open door, “Now, it’s good to see you stable, miss. That was a close one.”

“I--” You blinked as you tried to pull your hand from Steve’s but were too weak to do more than moan.

“We’ve managed to flush the drugs out of your system and your vitals have returned to normal. It is hospital policy to keep you under surveillance for three days but given Mr. Rogers’ crisis training and reputation, we feel it in everyone’s interest to release you to him.” The doctor explained. “We’ve explained to him the precautions to be taken and you should be confident in your safety under his care. Furthermore, we will have you return for some counselling when you are up to it. Again, you must already be aware that Mr. Rogers is also capable in that aspect.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Steve said as you stared.

“Please,” You said weakly.

“Remember, Mr. Rogers, your check-ins. Every four hours.” The doctor took a paper from his clipboard and handed it to Steve. “She’s lucky to have you.”

The doctor left and you watched helplessly. How could they release you to this stranger? How could they not keep you under their own supervision? Were you just another bed to be freed up? 

You grumbled as you tried to sit up and only did so as Steve helped you.

“I’ll get a chair and then we can get you dressed, sweetie,” he said, “you’ll be safe with me.”

📞

The world passed by you as you watched it through a haze. You couldn’t seem to break through the frosted window before you. Steve moved you from the hospital to his car to his building to his bed. You barely recalled any of it as you reclined against the fluffy pillow. You were trapped in a limbo; never quite awake and never quite asleep.

And then you were painfully conscious.

Steve was beside you. The room was yellow with soft sunlight. You felt lighter but not free. A thick arm slung across your middle and he drew you close. He rolled you against him and you pushed against his chest as you faced him. His blue eyes were on you, deep and dusky.

“I called your work. Let them know you were on an indefinite leave.” He bent his arm behind you as he hugged you to him. “Permanent if you want.”

“Steve, what are you doing?” You breathed.

“Changing your life. That’s what you wanted,” he brushed his nose against yours, “you don’t have to work. You can stay here and find your happiness. With me.”

“No, please, Steve…”

“You said you were lonely, you hate your job, that you’re running out of time,” his breath glossed over your lips, “I can fix all that.”

He lifted his head slightly and kissed you. You curled your fingers and clawed his shoulder. He rolled you onto your back as his tongue poked at your lips. You resisted but he was persistent. You let him in and moaned around the intrusion.

He pulled away and framed your face with his hand as he gazed into your eyes. “I meant it when I said you were beautiful,” he purred, “The moment I saw you, even the moment I heard your voice, I knew I needed you. I knew I was the only one who could make you happy.”

“Steve, you don’t know me…” You pushed against him. “You don’t even know me.”

“No one does because you won’t let them,” he traced your hairline with his fingers, “But I’m not going to give up. Ever.”

His hand closed around your chin and he kissed you again. He rocked his body against yours. You wore only a tee shirt and nothing else, the cotton thin between your bodies; his entirely naked, you realised.

His hand slid further down as his lips moved against yours. He pushed his hand beneath your shirt and groped your chest with a hum. You winced and sank your head deep into the pillow as you tried to turn away from him. He circled your nipple with his thumb as his cock twitched against your thigh.

He forced his knee between yours and you gasped as you ripped your lips away from his.

“Steve, what are you-- please.” You begged.

“I just want to love you,” He murmured, “You deserve to be loved.”

His hand crawled down your stomach and nestled between your legs. You flinched and your thighs tensed against him. You wriggled and crashed his lips into yours again. You tried to pull his hand away from you but he was too strong. You suffocated beneath him and against his will.

His fingers slipped along your cunt. It had been more than a year since you’d been touched. It was intoxicating despite your reticence. You shook and as his fingers flicked over your clit and you gasped into his mouth. He rubbed you until your arousal slicked his touch and you grabbed his arm as a tickle spread down your legs.

He turned his hand and pushed his fingers inside of you. He bent them and pressed his hand to your bud. He parted from your lips and rested his cheek against yours. He rocked his hand and the pressure inside of you mounted in his grip. You arched your back and bent your legs around him. You couldn’t resist the sudden flutter deep in your core.

You slapped your hand against his neck and  your fingers curved against his skin. You gulped at air as your orgasm rose against your will. Your muscles tightened all at once and the pleasure flooded from you suddenly. You drowned in it and let it carry you away.

Slowly, he removed his hand, leaving a trail over your stomach as he pushed your shirt up. He shifted and his cock prodded your pussy. He prodded your entrance and lined himself up he cupped your breast. He pushed inside a little at a time. Your nails sank deeper into his flesh and your other hand went to his shoulder.

He pushed himself to his limit. You had never felt so full. He tilted his hips and you moaned. You turned your head back and forth as he began to thrust; carefully, decisively. Each time, your voice grew louder. 

He caught your chin and kissed you. He planted kisses along your cheek and down your neck as he continued to rock into you. His pace built, little by little, and the bed quaked beneath your bodies. Your hands fell to the pillow and you clenched it as your body melded with his. 

You forgot all that had brought you there, the worries that hung over you endlessly, the fears, the doubts. You whined as another orgasm burst within you and you squirming beneath Steve. He grunted as he sped up, fueled by your cries, and pushed himself up as his hips moved against you.

He stared into your eyes as his sweaty blonde hair fell forward and his square jaw clenched. He saw back as he grabbed your hips and tilted you against him. He snarled and his motion turned stunted and strained. He growled through his teeth as he came, his nails cut into your flesh and he filled you with cords of hot cum. 

He stilled you and let out a long breath as his shoulder curled forward and he hung his head. He squeezed your hips and caressed your thighs. He lowered himself over you and turned onto his side, keeping you against him as he lingered inside of you.

“I’m happy,” he uttered, “Are you?”

Your lashes fluttered as hot tears rose in your eyes. As reality sunk in like concrete and you stared over his shoulder at the wall. You were numb yet your heart swelled in terror. You nodded as a tear leaked from the corner of your eye.

“Yes,” you lied.

[tomboyneedshercoffee]

Lovedust pt.7 || Peter Parker x Stark Reader

Summary: It’s the night of the party and Y/N is having seconds thoughts about going but her friend Kim convinces her to go and have fun. While things get more complicated with Peter, Y/N and Josh get closer at the party. 

Word Count: MF 7.7K ( This is my longest piece I-)

Author’s note: YALL HERE WE ARE! THE BIG OOPSIE DOOPSIE OF LOVEDUST! This is probably my favorite part that I have written so far- it’s fairly long but boy did my heart HURT. I would say we have about maybe 2-3 chapters left give or take and I’m so bummed the story is almost over :(. Thank you all for being incredibly kind, your support means so much I can’t thank you guys enough. ALSO hehe there’s a lil easter egg from the first chapter and the chapter with Y/N having a nightmare. If yall pay attention to some of the wording at the end...

Warnings: Underage drinking, adult language, angst, mentions of death

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || epilogue

You wanted it to be a normal night, one that in hindsight, would’ve worked out in your favor if you were normal to begin with. You weren’t the partying type or maybe, you just convinced yourself that it wasn’t the case since you were hardly invited to them to begin with. 

As if it made any sense, you felt eerily similar to Cinderella at this moment; even though she was one of the worst princesses in your opinion, you still sympathized with her story. The idea of wanting nothing more than to leave the confines of her dusty attic to dress pretty for a ball was something you could sadly relate to. 

While the Avengers complex was by far well above the average means, it was Cinderella longing for just one night away from her complicated life that made you see the story in a different light. 

But after years of wondering what it would be like to go to a real party (now that you were offered the chance to go) it wasn’t the way you dreamed it would be. As you stood in front of your closet, recalling the times you had put on outfits that you thought would be the perfect party attire just seemed like pieces of cloth, nothing more and nothing less. 

Because you didn’t care about the stupid party. You cared about Peter. 

You had put so much blame on him for everything; his feelings that he couldn’t control and his past which he apologized for multiple times. When you had the chance to fix everything, you were too scared to be vulnerable with him and admit that maybe you were falling for him. 

You weren’t a coward, you wanted to convince yourself that you could still move on and have fun without thinking of him but you felt almost embarrassed that you were feeling the opposite. 

“ I don’t want to go anymore. This isn’t right,” You sighed as you turned to your phone that was propped up against your dresser,” I can’t just leave him here while I go off to some party.”

You watched Kim through the facetime call as she put down her mascara to take a second to look at you,” Y/N, you have been talking about this party all week. Hell, I gave you that blue top that makes your boobs look great and you even said you couldn’t wait to wear it to the party!”

You only hummed in response as you moved aside the hangers in your closet to find the top that Kim had let you borrow. 

“ We mentally prepared for this, we watched Superbad and Booksmart in one night to get the full spectrum of high school parties and we even practiced how to play beer pong!”

“ That was on our phones, I’m sure it’s different in real life,” You sighed as you took off your shirt and slipped on Kim’s blue blouse,” I just feel awful about going to a party knowing Peter is just gonna be here all night.” 

“ Y/N, you deserve this party. You’ve worked your ass off for four years and I know how badly you wanted to go ever since we got uninvited to that one theatre party where Timothy Chalamete supposedly showed up to. I know you feel guilty about Peter and yeah, you kinda fucked things up, for now, but you deserve a goddamn break,” Kim practically yelled through the screen, doing her best to hype you up,” if you don’t go, you’re gonna regret it, you and I both know that. So just get dressed, do your hair all cute and shit, put on makeup or whatever you do and go have fun at this party with Josh.”

“ Fuck, Josh! I completely forgot about him, he’s supposed to pick me up in an hour!” You said as you suddenly felt a wave of nerves come over you,” what do I do about Josh? What if he tries to make a move on me tonight?”

“ Do you want him to make a move?”

“ I don’t know...not really but then again, I wouldn’t mind. Don’t hate me cause I know this sounds shitty, but maybe I need a distraction from Peter...is that awful?” You asked as you slipped off your pajama pants and rummaged through your dresser for jeans,” don’t answer that, I know that’s awful to say. Am I turning into a fuckboy?”

“ If you feel empathy than no, you’re not turning into a fuckboy,” Kim laughed as you found a pair of jeans to slip into,” look, I know how you feel about Peter and if you see yourself wanting to be with him than this thing you have with Josh won’t happen. At the same time, even if you do like Peter and you want to have fun with Josh for a night, you’re not a shitty person for wanting that. You’ve been through the wringer with Peter and to be honest, Josh is literally a goddamn angel so I don’t blame you for seeing him as an option. Either way, you’re hot, smart as fuck, and you are a fucking Stark; you don’t owe Peter or Josh anything so do what you want to do because you deserve it.” 

Kim was every protagonist’s wet dream; the side character who had more to offer every time and yet, she practically thrived off of hyping you up. You knew that she had a point, she always did. 

A part of you could tell which way she was leaning in terms of who you would go out with and yet, she only cared that you were making the right choice for yourself and your own happiness. 

“ You really are a ride or die friend,” You said honestly as Kim smiled back,” I’m going to get ready but I’ll see you there okay?” 

“ Will do girlfriend!”

Once the facetime call ended, you leaned back in your chair and stared at yourself in the mirror. 

You didn’t know what your intentions would be for the night and even though Kim had said you wouldn’t be a bad person if you had fun with Josh, you knew you would still feel shitty doing so, especially when you knew that you had strong feelings for Peter. 

As you fixed up your hair, all you could do was replay the conversation with Peter in the rain and how close you were to confessing everything. Looking back, you knew you were stupid for running away, if you really liked him than what was the problem of letting him know how you felt?

Because you knew once he was cured, he wouldn’t share the same feelings for you. 

In every sense of the lovedust, the way Peter felt about you wasn’t natural and yet, it was the lovedust that really made you like Peter back. 

You were just saving yourself from future heartbreak and given your past relationships, you had a reason to be hesitant in being that vulnerable with another guy. 

And yet, you still feel like you owed Peter an explanation. 

You got up from your seat and walked out of your bedroom, making a beeline towards his room. You were sure he was done with testing at this point but after knocking on his door a few times, there still wasn’t a response. 

You opened the bedroom door to find his room completely empty with everything neatly tucked in place as if he was cleaning up for a guest. 

The complex was big but you knew you would run into sometime before Josh showed up so you walked straight out and went to the elevators to make your way up to the labs. As you pressed the elevator button, you felt some unease sitting at the pit of your stomach. 

Something felt off, whether it be your natural woman inclination or just the fact that you were nervous to confront Peter. 

The elevator doors slid open and you walked in before you pressed the button to the designated floor like it was second nature.

Just breath, you’re fine, why are you freaking out?

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket and once you pulled it out, you felt your heart skip a beat when you saw Josh’s contact name pop up. 

Josh: I just left my apartment! I’ll see you in 20 min!

Your stomach shifted once again as you replied back before stuffing your phone back into your front pocket. 

Twenty minutes. 

That was enough time to confess to Peter right? 

The elevator doors opened to the lab and you walked towards the main zone with a slow pace, as if the anticipation would suddenly make you feel less nervous. 

Once you rounded the corner to where your dad and Banner were usually working on Peter, you found the room to be completely empty besides for a few lab technicians who were working rather quickly. 

You took a moment to give one last look into the lab before going down the hallway to peek into the other glass rooms to try and find Peter. You had a feeling that maybe you should’ve checked the gym before coming all the way up to the labs but once you found yourself in front of the last room, you spotted your dad and Banner walking out with grim faces. 

“ Dad? Is everything okay?” You asked as their heads whipped around to turn to you,” have you two seen Peter anywhere?” 

You studied your dad’s face carefully but he gave no inclination of what the situation was, a talent he had grown accustomed to since he was your age. You gave up on your dad and watched Banner’s face, a face you always had a talent of reading easily. 

He kept his eye contact anywhere but towards your direction and the collar around his neck was wet, a sign that he was stressed out.

“ Banner, where’s Peter?” You asked again as you looked up at him before moving your eyes toward the room they had just walked out of,” is he in there?” 

“ He’s-”

“Resting. He’s had a day full of tests so we put him in one of the hospital beds just to keep an eye on him,” Your dad interrupted as you watched Banner gulp,” it’s not a big deal kiddo.”

Liar. 

“ Okay...well if it’s not a big deal than I’m gonna go check up on him to make sure he’s okay,” You said wearily as you tried to walk in between your dad and Banner but he took a step to block you. 

“ Y/N, he’s not feeling well-”

“ Why are you lying?” You asked as you looked back at Banner,” what are you two not telling me?”

Your dad kept up the charade and sighed as if he was annoyed,” Kiddo, he’s K.O’d for the night. You know, lots of tests and meds that’ll have him relaxed for a few hours. Maybe you should check up on him tomorrow.” 

You could tell he was trying so hard to keep up the lie and while your dad was a phenomenal liar, you were smart enough to see right through his act. 

All you could do was nod as you played coy,” Okay, that’s fine. Oh! I wanted to let you know I’m going to that party tonight so I won’t be home until later.”

As you were studying Tony, he was doing the same right back at you. It was like a game of chess; who would break first, who had the upper hand, and who was going to make the next move without disrupting their own game. 

“ Alright, just be safe than. Be back before eleven,” Tony said as he patted your shoulder and started walking with you back to the elevator, his hand almost leading you away from the door,” Remember; Beer before liquor, never been sicker.”

You couldn’t take it anymore, you needed to know what was wrong with Peter. 

You stopped in your tracks as you turned around to face your dad and Banner, who was still avoiding your gaze. You knew something was up, it was painfully obvious and you weren’t going to just turn over and accept defeat. 

“ Would you ever lie to me?” You asked as your dad inhaled sharply, immediately shaking his head without a second thought,” okay.” 

You peeked your eyes back to the door and before you knew it, you ducked under your dad’s arm and ran over to the room where you were sure they were hiding Peter away. 

“ Y/N, stop!” 

You ran even faster as you practically slid against the tiled floor before throwing open the door to find Peter in the hospital bed. A huge heart monitor was connected to the side that had immediately spiked when you entered the room. 

“ Y/N? What are you doing here?” Peter asked as he sat up in his bed as your eyes traveled to several IV’S that were attached to his forearm. 

The first thing you focused on was how pale he looked. Whatever the hospital gown couldn’t cover showed almost a ghostly touch to his usual lush color. Since the lovedust, he had always had a blushful expression, accessorized with flushed cheeks or red tinted ears but now, there was none of that. 

You could hear your dad and Banner behind you but before your dad could drag you back, you could hear Banner talking your dad out of it to ‘give the kids some time.’ 

You didn’t even bother saying thank you as the door shut behind you, leaving you and Peter alone in the room. You were almost scared to come closer to him, he didn’t look like himself at all. 

You looked towards the heart monitor again which caused Peter’s heart rate to spike up with the thought alone. 

“ Tell me what happened,” You finally said as you made your way over to sit on the edge of Peter’s bed,” it’s serious, isn’t it?” 

Peter swallowed nervously but shrugged like it was nothing,” Your dad was there before anything bad happened.”

You shook your head, you weren’t going to get any information out of him like this. You turned to the side of his hospital bed and picked up a clipboard with his medical information. Peter tried grabbing it out of your hands but you stared him down, as if to say ‘ don’t try me.’ 

Peter backed down as your eyes scanned the sheet carefully, trying to decipher all of the medical lingoes that were vaguely familiar from watching Grey’s Anatomy. 

You felt your breath hitch as you read over the same diagnosis. 

“ You had an acute heartattack because of me, didn’t you?” You finally said as you carefully placed the clipboard on the desk beside you,” because of our argument... and you weren’t going to tell me.” 

“ Y/N, there was no reason to worry you-”

“ You’re so stupid Peter, why wouldn’t I be worried for you? You think an acute heartattack is something as normal as a fucking cold?” You snapped as you watched his heart rate rise. You took a deep breath and ran your fingers through your hair to calm yourself down,” I’m killing you. Loving me is literally killing you Peter.”

Peter watched your gaze fall back to the IV’S while he kept his eyes on you the whole time. You looked absolutely defeated and he didn’t blame you. The way you stared at his arm made him feel like you were trying to somehow reverse the lovedust, as if you could take his pain away. 

And yet, what you didn’t know was that Tony had just come in minutes before you to announce that yes, you could actually take the pain away forever. 

“ What about you? Is it killing you?” Peter asked as you tore your eyes away from his IV’s and locked your gaze on him.

“ Seeing you like this? Of course it’s killing me, I’m not that cruel Parker.”

“ No,” Peter swallowed dryly,” is it killing you that you might love me?” 

Your first instinct was to laugh. What kind of sick joke was coming out his mouth? You tried to force any sound, anything that was a resemblance of something from English translation but your brain mentally stuttered. 

It was as if your mind and words went on pause to let your thoughts catch up to you. Were you really that easy to read or did Peter know you better than you know yourself? 

“ How do I answer that?” You asked quietly as Peter was quick with a reply. 

“ You answer it honestly.”

“ Oh, because you have been so honest with me?”

“ You haven’t been telling me the truth either. You’re a lot of things Y/N, but you’re not innocent.” 

“ Oh yeah? What am I then? Since you clearly know so much about me,” You replied to somehow detour the conversation. 

Peter gladly took the bait as he chuckled,” You’re stubborn. You’re the most stubborn girl I have ever met in my entire life and I love that about you. It makes things interesting knowing that you don’t roll over for anyone, even when you know you’re wrong.” 

You only hummed, he had a point. You had learned that from Tony and you weren’t ashamed about it one bit. 

“ Well, I love how foolishly selfless you are. You always put everyone else’s feelings before yours even when your health is at stake,” You said back as Peter’s smile faltered. 

Oh how spot on you were. 

Cause in this moment now, Peter was between a rock and a hard place. He had information that you didn’t have, information that would seemingly fix everything and yet, he didn’t want you to know. 

The cure for the lovedust. 

“ You’re keeping something from me, aren’t you?” You said after studying his expression for a moment as Peter released his bottom lip that he was holding in between his teeth nervously. 

Yes. 

“ I think you’re the one not being honest with your feelings,” Peter said as a matter of fact,” why won’t you admit it?”

You wanted to swallow your pride because damn it, you didn’t want a repeat of earlier. You didn’t want to chicken out but could you afford to be vulnerable again?

“ Peter...I don’t want to admit anything until you’re in the right state of mind,” You finally said, which was the most honest answer you could give,” after all, we both know what you’re feeling for me isn’t the same as how I feel for you...it’s a side effect of the dust.”

Peter only nodded, even though there was so much to say to you. Peter felt like he was in a slowburn novel, but damn, even at this point there had to be more to give right? If this was a story of two people who were meant to be together, then why the hell is it taking so long? 

If Peter could have it his way, he would rewrite it to where they could be happily ever after in the first chapter but sadly, this was real life and there wasn’t that kind of luxury. 

“You’re right, it’s not the same,” Peter said bitterly as his sympathetic smile faded,” just a side effect.” 

You both understood. As things stood now, it was more of a standstill than anything. A pause, a pitstop, anything to halt whatever momentum the two of you shared.  You felt absolutely broken that he admitted it, his “love” for you wouldn’t ever be the same as however, you felt about him in that moment. 

Just like that, you both knew you were doomed from the start.

You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket and you already knew it was Josh. You inhaled deeply as you gave Peter’s hand a squeeze before rising from his bed,” I’m gonna go but if anything happens, call me okay?” 

“ Same goes for you. Be safe,” Peter said in almost a whisper as you nodded before turning to the door. 

You walked out of the room and leaned against the door for a moment collecting your thoughts. You ignored the gaze of Banner and your dad and seemingly walked through the two without batting an eye. 

Tony felt guilty knowing that you had caught him in a lie but he really thought he was doing his daughter a favor. Once he knew you were gone, Tony walked through the door to find Peter deep in thought. 

Tony shut the door behind him and walked over, taking a seat in the chair beside Peter’s bed. No one said anything for a moment but Peter was the one to break the silence first. 

“ I didn’t tell her about the cure. I don’t think she would even want to...” Peter admitted as Tony nodded. 

Tony crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, his mind wandering in every direction,” Good call. Thor said our time is fleeting so we need to make sure it works.” 

Peter shifted nervously in his spot,” You and Banner won’t stop finding a different cure though, right? Just in case?” 

“ Yeah, just in case.” 

                                                       -------

“ You look nervous,” Josh pointed out once the two of you pulled up into the driveway of Amber’s house,” did you want to wait a second before we walk in?” 

You shook your head as you tried to swallow any nerves that were building up in your throat. You couldn’t believe you were actually about to go to a party after everything that has been going on. 

“ No, I’m fine...It sounds stupid but I don’t really do parties so this is all kinda new,” You admitted as you took in another deep breath. 

“ It’s not stupid at all. If it makes you feel any better, I usually get pretty antsy before preforming but now that I know you’re going to watch me, I feel less nervous,” Josh smiled warmly as you started to feel your senses ease,” parties aren’t as scary as you think. Yeah, there are always a lot of people I don’t know but seeing a familiar face is always reassuring.” 

Josh had a way of calming you down that no other person could do so easily. You wondered if someone else had said the same thing to you like Kim or Peter and if it would have the same effect but maybe it was just exclusively Josh that had that sort of charm. 

“ Okay, I’m ready.”

The funny thing was, you really thought you were ready until you stepped into her house. The floor vibrated along to the beat of whatever song was blasting along the speakers and the smell of alcohol and weed felt almost suffocating. You were immediately overwhelmed with the amount of people already there and of course, you hardly recognized anyone from school. 

“ Here, hold on tight,” Josh intertwined his fingers with yours as he led you both through the crowd of teenagers almost too effortlessly. 

He led you outside and you thanked god the stage that was set up for his band was in the backyard. You walked along the poolside, following closely behind him before you felt someone splash you with water. 

“ Hey what- Kim!” You shouted excitedly as you let go of Josh’s hand to crouch down beside the pool to where Kim was swimming in just her bra and underwear,” you’re not even wearing a swimsuit? You dirty bitch.”

Kim laughed as she rested her hands against the edge of the pool,” Took you two long enough. Joshua, how are you this evening?” 

“ It’s going good Kimberly, I hope you’re enjoying yourself,” Josh teased back as Kim playfully rolled her eyes,” Y/N, I’m gonna check in with the guys real quick. Are you cool to stay here for a second?”

You nodded and shooed Josh with your hand,” Go, I’ll be fine.”

Josh gave you one last nod before jogging over to where his band was setting up. His bandmates had seen you walking over hand in hand with you and were now giving Josh hard pats on his back, as if to say ‘ nice job.’ 

“ He’s so respectful it physically hurts. Like I know the bar is so low for men but Josh checks every box. It’s annoying,” Kim sighed as you dragged a lawn chair from the grass and put it next to the edge of the pool to continue talking to your friend,” I would kill to be in your shoes right now. Oh to have two, brown-eyed guys fawn over me!” 

You couldn’t help but laugh as Kim dramatically placed her hand over her forehead and all you could do was shake your head,” Whatever, you didn’t even like Peter. You said so yourself he was a total douchebag.” 

“ Was a total douchebag and look, not that it’s any competition but I’m hashtag, team Peter. I’m a sucker for a good enemies to lovers trope,” Kim sighed as you felt your chest tighten up at her proclamation. 

You moved your eyes away from Kim as Josh came back over to you,” Did you want me to get you a drink?”

“ Thank goodness yes-”

“Y/N you should go with him,” Kim insisted as you turned to give her an odd look,” don’t get me wrong Joshua, I trust you but ya know, parties and alcohol and...men. Just to be extra safe.” 

You wanted to drown Kim on the spot for even insinuating that Josh would do something as terrible as spiking your drink but luckily, Josh gave a sincere nod. 

“ Of course, that’s not a problem. Men really are the worst,” Josh said casually as the two gave each other a little salute,” ready Y/N?”

Josh interlocked his hand with yours once again as he led you back into the house and through the kitchen as some people called out to greet him. 

“ Look at you Mr. Popular,” You teased as Josh squeezed your hand before opening up the fridge.

“ This is your first time drinking right?” Josh asked as you nodded, almost embarrassed,” Hey, that’s alright. You and I are gonna stick to the light stuff tonight, these taste better anyway.”

Josh pulled out three bottles of Mike’s Hard Lemonade and popped off the bottlecaps with a bottle opener before pouring it straight into two plastic cups. 

He tucked the third bottle underneath his arm as you watched him curiously. Josh caught you eyeing his actions as he handed you the cup carefully. 

“ Why not just drink it straight from the bottle?” You asked as you watched Josh take a sip,” I feel like we’re hurting the environment.” 

“ Looks cooler in a red solo cup,” Josh admitted bashfully as he clinked his cup with yours. 

You took a small sip, expecting it to burn like how it was always described in coming of age books but surprisingly, the fizzy taste of citrus wasn’t overpowering in any way. Josh raised his eyebrows and playfully nudged your shoulder,” See! It’s good, right? If you drink enough of these, I’m sure anyone could get tipsy but the goal of this party is to actually remember it the next day.”

There was just something about Josh that made you feel so much safer than anyone else. He didn’t tease you for never having gone to a party before or having alcohol; if anything he did his best to make sure you were as comfortable as possible. 

“ You’re being unreasonably cool, you know that right?” 

Josh smiled as he reached for your hand instinctively for the third time that night,” Only for you baby.” 

Smooth smooth Josh. Like putty in his hands, he led you back to the backyard but the whole time, you felt your heart practically melt at him calling you baby. 

Was it pathetic how easily you leaned into his touch? Maybe. 

But god, he really did make things harder for you. You had come into this party with your eyes on another guy and yet, Josh always managed to turn up the charm whenever necessary and you ate it up. 

Josh might be the charming, golden boy but you knew you couldn’t be too naive. Everyone had flaws, maybe Josh’s was that he was too nice and too friendly, or possibly him being a complete lightweight was the only thing holding him back in life. 

Lucky bastard. 

Once you made it to the backyard, you found Kim with a towel around her body, sitting on one of the lawn chairs. Josh walked over and whistled at Kim to look up from her phone, to which he handed her the bottle of Mike’s and she sounded a quick thanks in response. 

“ I’m gonna warm up with the guys. We’re only going to play a quick set but after, I’m all yours,” Josh promised as his cheeks started to get red at his own words but he turned back around at an attempt to hide his face. 

You took a seat next to Kim as you felt your heart practically skip a beat,” He’s really something isn’t he?”

“ Mm, he’s something alright,” Kim sighed as she struggled to open up the bottle,” dumb bitch, he didn’t bring a bottle opener or something?” 

“ It’s the thought that counts!” You said back as Kim popped the bottle cap using the metal part of the lawn chair.

As you listened to Josh’s band start their first song, you couldn’t help but feel guilty on how you were feeling. A part of you was holding on to the idea of you and Peter being a possibility but things were always so complicated with him. 

There was more to lose in being with Peter and it was painfully obvious that Josh made things so incredibly easy. You didn’t need to walk on eggshells when you were with him and sure, things were new and always changing but Josh could eventually be a person you could lean on. 

You reminded yourself that Peter “loved” you and that you did feel something for him that Josh couldn’t make you feel, but it wasn’t real love and that alone completely sobered you up from your moodiness,” Cheers Kim.” 

She watched as you drank whatever was left in your cup but Kim only ooo’d, knowing it wasn’t enough to get you drunk. 

You shook your head as you tried to think of anything but Peter. Tonight was your night to be free and you didn’t want to have to worry about who would be waiting for you once you got back home. 

And yet, deep down, you wondered why a part of you felt like it wasn’t right to hold Josh’s hand. Maybe because you knew you liked holding Peter’s more. Even as you looked up at Josh who stole a few glances your way, you silently prayed that it was Peter up on that stage instead. 

“ I can’t do this,” You said after a second of overthinking everything as you pulled your phone out of your pocket,” I need to text him.” 

“ Um fuck no! No drunk texts, that shit is so embarrassing Y/N!”

“ This is less than 5% alcohol, I am definitely not drunk Kim,” You mumbled as you slapped her hand away and pulled out your phone to text Peter,” I thought you were on team Peter?” 

Y/N: I need you

Y/N: *address*

Kim watched as you texted Peter but before you could send it, Kim leaped out of her seat and snatched the phone out of your hand,” I swear-! Yes, I am a new fan of team Peter, although Josh is getting major brownie points, but I have been a loyal member of team Y/N way before anyone else. I’m doing you a favor, what is texting him going to solve?” 

You pouted as Kim slipped your phone into her bag, unbeknownst to the both of you that the message had accidentally sent. 

“ Now get the hell up and lets dance bitch!”

                                                         ------

You and Kim had perfected your mental state to a tee; not drunk enough to trip over air and make complete fools of yourselves but tipsy enough to where even the slightest look at each other was enough to make you break out into a fit of laughter. 

You still ‘danced like people were watching’ but you managed to still let loose enough to where the music flowed so freely between your fingertips. 

“ Josh you guys were great!” You shouted as you pulled him into a surprise hug, which he happily accepted,” I think I’m officially your number one fan now.”

“ Wait in line,” Kim scoffed playfully as she grabbed her bag from the floor,” I’m gonna go get a cheese plate or something. Don’t do anything gross while I’m gone.” 

You shot her a prompt ‘ why would you say that’ with your eyes before turning back to face Josh. You weren’t sure where things would go next but he took your hand and led you to the other side of the backyard to a wooden bench, claiming that he just wanted to rest a bit after singing for so long. 

The bench was small enough to where your thigh was against his but you didn’t mind the contact. 

“ Thanks for coming out by the way. I know these type of things are pretty overwhelming but I’ve been having fun so far. How about you?” Josh asked as you exhaled deeply. 

“ I’m glad I came...thank you again for convincing me to come out here. I feel like there’s been a lot of stuff going on at home and it’s kind of nice being a normal teenager for once,” You said honestly as Josh rolled his shoulders back. 

You could feel how nervous he was next to you but for the most part, he didn’t really show it from his facial expression. 

“ Can I ask you something?” 

You nodded, trying your best to be as cool as possible but all you could think about was how dry your mouth felt. 

Oh fuck, the million-dollar question was finally here, wasn’t it? Was he going to reveal his feelings? What if he was going to make a move?

“ Is there something going on between you and Peter? The other day when I came over, it felt...intense. I didn’t want to overstep by coming over or anything,” Josh hesitated as he tested the waters. 

Oh. 

Well fuck, that question was just as nerve-wracking as the others. You wanted to be as honest with Josh as possible but at the same time, you didn’t want to ruin any chances you had of possibly having him around if Peter didn’t work out. 

You knew that was such a shitty mindset but Josh had a way of making you feel so comfortable and you weren’t willing to let that go. 

“ I thought I had something with him but it’s complicated,” You answered honestly,” you saw him, he’s...sick and I feel like the sickness is making him feel things that aren’t actually there. I don’t know, it’s so weird to explain.” 

Josh bit his bottom lip nervously as he hung onto your every word,” So his feelings for you aren’t there like he thinks it is?” 

God, it sounded so simple the way Josh said it when it was so much worst in reality. Of course, it would be way easier to tell Josh everything from the toxic relationship you and Peter had to how the lovedust was emotionally and physically a toll on both of you. 

For obvious reason, you could never reveal that much to him. 

“ Yeah, exactly that,” You sighed, sounding a bit too disappointed and Josh had caught the shift in your voice,” feelings are always so complicated.”

“ Not all the time,” Josh said quickly as he caught himself,” I mean, liking someone doesn’t have to be complicated. Sometimes it’s really easy because love shouldn’t hurt, you know?” 

You only nodded because you could tell Josh had more to say. He took this opportunity to shift his body to fully face you and you scooted your back against the armrest so you could show him that you were attentive. 

“ I mean, when I like someone, all I think about is how much I like being around them. Everything else kind of just falls away and it feels all warm like how the books describe it,” Josh could feel a blush creep onto his cheeks yet again but he knew there was no point in covering it up now,” it’s a cliche but I think when you have a crush on someone, everything just falls into place... And I feel that when I’m with...you.”

Your heart practically drew closer to him because what is going on, this was different. Even though Peter had generally been saying the same things to you for days on end, this was more. 

There wasn’t some magic space dust that was making Josh confess his feelings, it was just pure humanistic drive to step out of one’s comfort zone that had tugged on Josh harder than ever before. 

As if time had slowed down, you watched closely as Josh placed his hand onto your knee before leaning in, getting dangerously close to your lips. Josh stopped only a mere centimeter before your lips touched, as if to give you a chance to back away and yet, you stood still. 

You were trying to make sense of what your heart and your gut were telling you but you thought back to Peter admitting to you that the love he felt for you was a side effect of the lovedust, nothing more and nothing less. 

Peter would never like you back. 

That’s what pushed you over the edge and so, you closed the gap between you and Josh as you kissed him back. You could feel Josh smiling against your lips but the pure sensation of the kiss didn’t last. 

Kim had witnessed everything in slow motion. The text from Peter, indicating that he had entered and was heading to the backyard to watching Josh lean in to kiss you. It was like a sick hypothetical they always asked in ethics classes when presenting the Trolley Dilemma and yet, she barely had enough time to make a decision. 

All she could do was shout but it was a little too late. Peter saw everything. 

He saw you close the space between your lips and Josh’s. He saw Josh smile against your lips. He saw you pull away before leaning in for more. 

Peter knew what was coming next, he practically braced for the pain that he knew was coming because just earlier the same day, he had a miniature version of it. But he never expected the pain to be this unbearable. 

His ribs felt like someone had just swung a bat into the center of his chest and he could feel every bone splitting into various small fragments that were too small to ever glue back together. Each little fragment of whatever was left had seemingly pierced his heart in a thousand different places as more and more pressure starting to build in his chest. 

He couldn’t even let out a cry for help, not even a whimper because no air could come in through his mouth. 

The fear alone made his chest tighten up to the point where he felt his lungs almost give in from inside of him. His vision was the next to get blotched out with a violent array of reds and oranges, moving at a fast kaleidoscopic rhythm that sent Peter deeper into a panic.

The last to give was his legs; the dizziness from the complete distortion had made his knees buckle from the pain, sending him straight into the pool. 

You heard Kim cry out first as she pushed her way through a crowd that was blocking the door. You moved away from Josh to find the commotion and even though you couldn't see who fell into the water, you knew deep down who it was. 

You ran over to the edge of the pool and without a second thought, you dived into the water. Josh quickly followed behind you; it took him only a second to kick off his shoes before he jumped in after you. 

What scared you the most was how eerily quiet it was underwater. You could hear some muffled shouts but that’s not what was so quiet. His body was motionless in the water, there was no sign of struggling or thrashing or convulsing like how it was in the movies. 

Everything just felt slow as you desperately reached your arms out to swim faster to him. You only had one focus once you wrapped your arms across his chest and kicked up to the surface. In your mind, you were already going through how you would start compressions on him once you reached the top. 

You were panicked and scared but you knew you had to pull yourself together, pushing away any thoughts of how far gone Peter could be. 

You broke the surface with Peter in your arms as you called out to someone, anyone to take him from your arms. Kim and one of Josh’s bandmates helped lift Peter’s lifeless body onto the concrete as Kim quickly called 9-1-1. 

Her hands were shaking as she tried to press the three buttons and after an eternity, they picked up the phone. 

You scrambled up from the pool and hovered over Peter’s body and without a second thought, you started doing CPR. 

For a moment, that’s all you were thinking. Like a machine, over and over again on an endless cycle, chest compressions, open his airway, give rescue breaths. When you found yourself thinking about how panicked everyone else was and how pale Peter looked underneath you, you continued to give compressions until you felt like your arms would snap from the pressure. 

You don’t know how much time has passed but enough to where there would’ve been a sign by now. You sobbed for Peter and kept calling out to him, your voice shaking like a child, the same child who lost her parents all those years ago. The same child who held that heavy towel, pressing it against her fathers chest to stop the bleeding- no. 

You couldn’t think about that, this was different. You could save him. You kept reminding yourself over and over as you did a round of chest compressions, opened his airway, and gave more rescue breaths. Over and over. Non-stop. 

Again and again without hesitation. 

At this point, you couldn't stop your mind from thinking of Peter and the possibility of him actually dead. How long was he under? What had happened before? He must’ve seen the kiss- oh my god you killed him. 

You can feel it, building up inside of you like an unstoppable path set ablaze like pure lava. 

You thought about never hearing his laugh again, the one where he would grip his sides so hard, he would wheeze like an old dog toy. Chest compressions. Airway. Rescue breaths. 

You thought about him never calling out your name, whether it was followed by an insult or a loving comment about how you made him feel. Chest compressions. Airway. Rescue breaths. 

You thought about never touching him again, his strong arms holding your shaking body when you had that awful nightmare or how perfect his hand fit in yours when you two walked together in the rain. Chest compressions. Airway. Rescue breaths. 

You thought about never telling him how you actually felt, how stupid you were forever letting him get away because it was him all along. Chest compressions. Airway. Rescue breaths. 

It was always him. 

You were in love with Peter. 

And suddenly, almost finally, Peter jolted up and coughed up the water from his lungs. 

You stopped the compressions and held your own breath as Peter continued to cough up more water, his eyes squeezed shut. 

“ Peter? Can you hear me?” You called out between your choked cries as you snapped your fingers close to his ear.

After a moment, an agonizing moment, Peter nodded, as everyone else collectively let out the breath they didn’t know they were holding. Peter opened his eyes slowly, taking in everything like it was his first time seeing the world. 

“ Oh thank god, don’t worry, help is coming. Stay awake for me, okay?” You sighed in relief as you tucked a strand of wet hair behind your ear,” I’m so glad you’re okay.” 

When his eyes lock onto yours, he feels an odd sense of deja vu that he can’t explain. His chest isn’t tight anymore, his hands don’t feel as clammy as before, his mind feels almost cleared. 

He focused on your eyes while everything else drowned out around him. Your pupils, they’re big and they’re filled with a heavy deal of worry but there’s something else. Your eyes, he’s looked into them so many times before but why is it different? 

As shaken up as you are, you manage to cup his face carefully to console him, or more so yourself. Your hands are shaking but they’re warm against his cheek and he can’t help but reach his hand to lay across the hand that’s cupping his face. 

Peter feels his face flush, but this time it’s different, it’s...euphoric? Peter wasn’t even sure if he was saying the word correctly but that’s how he felt. 

Your eyes, he’s so enamored by the way you’re looking at him. You were worried of course, but no, there was something else. 

“ You’re safe Peter, you’re okay.” 

“ Don’t worry I got you.”

“ Just breath for me, okay?” 

There it was, the same deja vu. You had said that to him before, or maybe he had said it to you before through broken sobs when you had the nightmare. 

Peter’s breath hitched as it all finally hit him, he figured it out just by holding your deep gaze. 

Oh my god.

The lovedust had worn off, it was gone. All the anxiety and nerves from having it in his system had disappeared, evaporated off of him almost. The chest pains and the shortness of breath had gone away but Peter still felt something pulling, tugging at his heartstrings. 

The lovedust was gone, he knew that well enough.

 The only thing he could feel as he stared back at you was a pure, undivided, longing for you. 

That’s right, Peter Parker was still hopelessly in love with you, no lovedust required.

Taglist (closed):

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[runwithwolvcs]

You Know I'm No Good - six

sick days

Warning(s): Vomiting?

Sometimes you just have to rest. The world can wait.

Waking up the next morning, Tallulah felt as if she had been run over by a bus. Her head was heavy, the nausea she had been consumed with had yet to disappear, the light in her room seemed brighter than the sun and the sound of the rain sounded like rocks being pelted against her skull. Pulling herself out of bed was more exhausting than when she had to run the 12 minute mile in tenth grade, she thought to herself. Grabbing the comfiest clothes she could find, which consisted of a dark pair of leggings and a way too big hoodie, she put them on, only stopping once as she felt woozy. The world around her was spinning and before she could even think, her feet were moving. She ran to the bathroom, thankful it wasn’t occupied, before throwing up anything her petite body held from the day before. Too busy dry heaving as a wave of nausea refused to pass, Tallulah didn’t hear someone join her in the small bathroom, holding her long hair from falling forward and rubbing soothing circles around her back. By the feel of the small hand and the motherly gesture, she could tell it was Kira.

Tallulah sat back on her heels as hoped the worst was out of her system, minus the nagging in the pit of her stomach. Kira held her palm up to her forward and frowned, “You don’t have a fever.” she said, just as her dad came in holding a bottle of water, handing it down to his daughter, who used it to rinse her mouth before taking little sips, hoping to keep it down.

“Maybe it's stress,” he theorized. It wouldn’t have shocked her, but it felt like more than that. Like something wasn’t right and her body was trying to tell her.

The two adults helped the young girl back onto her feet, before moving her back into her room. Joseph tucked his eldest daughter into bed, something he hasn’t done since she was six. Kissing her on the forehead before leaving her room to let her sleep off whatever illness she was currently fighting.

Tallulah closed her eyes once her door was shut, but she could just hear Kira and her father on the other side of the door, ‘I told you this would happen’, she listened to Kira say, the audible sigh came from her dad but his next sentence was too hard to hear as she began to drift off to sleep.

Tallulah was surrounded by the tallest trees she had ever seen, looking upwards to the sky, she could barely see the blue skies peaking through the leaves. She was sitting with her back against a broken tree, her legs tucked underneath her. She felt calm. The most she had felt since arriving in LaPush. In front of her, there was the largest dark gray wolf she had ever seen, and sure, she hadn’t seen many in real life, but this one seemed to be unnaturally big. It stalked closer to her slowly, as if not to frighten her, but she wasn’t the slightest bit afraid of the furry animal. She reached her hand out slowly for the same reason as to not frighten the wolf, as it dipped its head forward, allowing her to touch its snout, and then forehead. She caressed the wolf, giving him small scratches behind both of his ears, a sound of delight leaving the wolf's mouth, almost human like. The gray wolf settled down, nestling its big head onto her lap as she continued to pet him, the two beings both closing their eyes in solace.

---

It was early afternoon when Tallulah awoke. The feeling of nausea seemingly had passed, only to be left with a dull ache in her chest. She picked up her phone to check the time only to be hit with a slew of text messages, from Lina to her mother, as well as Chase and August, with whom they exchanged numbers the day before during their second independent study class.Only one text message caught her off guard, it was from an unknown number. She clicked on it and read it over three times, barely comprehending it,

‘Hey, your dad told me you like to paint and I was wondering if you could do me a small favour?”

‘It’s Paul by the way.’

Tallulah furrowed her eyebrows trying to figure out a response, I haven’t painted since middle school, she thought to herself, while simultaneously wondering why her father was telling Paul this in the first place.

She typed out a response only to delete three times before settling on,

‘What kind of favour?’

Simple, yet assertive, she thought. Before clicking the sleep button on her phone, deciding she would read the rest of her messages later.

Slowly making her way out of bed and down to the kitchen, making sure the woozy spell she had in the morning was just a once off, she was met with Kira sitting at the kitchen table, typing away at her laptop. She cleared her throat so as not to scare her, before grabbing a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water.

“How are you feeling, sweetie?” Kira's voice filled the quiet room. After taking a small sip of water she turned to face her stepmom, “Better, probably was stress, like dad said.” Tallulah said, and Kira nodded in agreement. “Did you get Paul's message?” the older woman asked, a glint of hope evident in her eyes. “I did..” Tallulah spoke apprehensively, “I thought you guys didn't like him and now you're giving him my number and telling him I can help him out?” she asked, not in an aggressive way, more so curious. This brought out a laugh from Kira, “It’s not that we don’t like him, per se.” she chose her next words carefully, “It's just that, we’ve known him since he was a child and we just want to make sure you are careful and don’t get too caught up in his world. Plus his age doesn’t help..” she trailed. His world, Tallulah questioned herself, chalking it up to be what Lenna had been talking about at the cafe, him and Rachel's tumultuous relationship. She smirked at the age comment before slyly saying, “aren’t you six years younger than my dad?”She was only 7 years younger than Paul, and while she had absolutely no interest in him in that regard, there was definitely something interesting to her about him.

Kira nodded her head at her comment, “Yes. But I wasn’t 18 when I met your father. We both had life experience before meeting, it makes a world of a difference dear. But it is your life, and we want you to be safe, happy and healthy. Whatever gives you all of that, we will be supportive of. Within reason of course.”

Tallulah smiled, appreciative that Kira was treating her like an adult, not a child.

Letting Kira get back to her work, she heads out to the back porch, hoping some fresh air would do her some good. Settling on the porch swing, she checked her phone again as it buzzed, the same unknown number she now knew to be Pauls, had sent her message,

‘The Uley’s bookstore down by Third Beach got some water damage a few months back after a storm. I could use your help repainting some of the structures, nothing too intense.’

Tallulah thought it over. It would give her something to do, that her dad would actually allow her to do. The idea of spending time with Paul didn’t hurt either, if anything, it made her excited. She added him into her phone as a contact before replying,

‘I’m in.’

She sat in the porch swing, breathing in the fresh air and watching the treetops sway. It reminded her of her dream, the dark gray wolf filling her thoughts. The dull ache in her chest had been replaced with a fluttering feeling. The sound of a wolf howling through the windless air broke her train of thoughts, causing her to smile. Maybe the wolf was real.

Tags: @cperry0516 , @bhasbhabiessss

[somedayonbroadway]

do they know it’s christmas ?

This one was interesting and definitely not my best work, but here it is!

Katherine had never really understood Christmas. The holidays were always a whirlwind of traditions, food and fighting. See, Katherine was half Jewish, so naturally, she would celebrate Hanukkah with her father’s side of the family Christmas with her mother’s side, neither of which were ever a piece of cake. Today just so happened to be Christmas Day, the end of these nightmare traditions where she would get tons of things she didn’t ask for and look at food that her mother told her not to eat.

It was tradition now that Katherine would criticize Christmas as a whole because Christmas was just a way for Christians to steal a holiday from the Pagans and Jesus had actually been born more towards the middle of the year rather than the end of it and how Santa Claus was a really creepy story to tell kids and how often it would be taken advantage of by adults to get kids to do things they don’t want to do and now Katherine was just rambling in her own head as she watched the snow fall and drank her hot chocolate.

Dinner had started thirty minutes ago and Katherine had excused herself to the bathroom and had decided not to go back. It was more peaceful out here with the tree and all the fire going and no one to lecture her about the kind of things she was publishing in her books. Katherine sighed, just looking out the window and seeing a young man chase after a little boy who was dancing around in the snow just outside. She smiled as the young man lifted the boy up in his arms and put him on his shoulders. They were watching the lights on their house.

So Katherine grabbed the hot chocolate and two mugs and walked outside. “Hello!” she called and the young man had this look in his eye, like he should run. But Katherine walked towards them. “I was wondering if you two might like some hot chocolate,” she asked.

A gasp of excitement escaped the little boy. “Hot cocoa?” he asked as the young man let him off of his shoulders and back down into the snow.

The young man shook his head. “It’s alright, we were just… leaving—“

“No, it’s really okay,” the woman smiled. “You must be freezing.” She poured the mugs of the hot chocolate and handed one down to the little boy. “Be careful, okay? It’s hot.”

The young man shook his head. “Really, it’s alright. Racer just wanted to see the lights,” he insisted.

“Jackie, they have a tree in their house!” the little boy, Racer, said.

Jack nodded. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Okay, Race, say thank you and we can go home—“

“I don’t wanna go back to the shelter,” the boy whined. “The mean man stole our bed!”

Katherine froze. Jack looked down. “Race…” he breathed.

It hadn’t even occurred to Katherine. Maybe it should have, with the minimal winter clothes the two boys had, with the fact that it was Christmas night at nine PM and they were out in the snow just wandering with no urgent place to go. Katherine looked down. “Oh…”

“Sorry,” Jack breathed. “Thank you for the hot chocolate, my brother never gets to have sweets.” He handed the mug back to Katherine and scooped up the little boy who couldn’t be older than six. Then he just started walking away.

Watching them for a long moment, Katherine shook her head. “Wait!” She rushed up to them. “Uh, are you hungry?”

Jack squinted. “We’re fine,” he insisted.

“No, really, we have a lot of food. And I think maybe Santa left something here that was meant for someone else,” she insisted.

Jack sighed as Race rushed towards her. “Really?” he asked in such excitement.

“We don’t need your charity,” the young man muttered.

Katherine looked up at him. “It’s not charity,” she stated. “It’s… a gift to a friend,” she stated. “I’m Katherine.”

Sighing, Jack held out his hand. “Jack,” he introduced right back.

“Race!” the little boy chimed in and Katherine laughed, leading the boy inside the warm home and handing him a children’s book from the shelf.

“Well, Race, I think this is for you,” Katherine smiled.

Race grinned. “Jackie! A book!” he bounced happily.

Jack nodded. “Yeah, baby, we can read it together…”

Katherine smiled. “I hope so,” she breathed. “And… we have a whole feast that I would love to have you join me for, maybe even take most of it home with you…”

Biting his lip, Jack sighed. “Really, you don’t have to,” he tried as Race gasped in excitement. “Seriously, that’s really nice of you, but… we ain’t no one special—“

“No,” Katherine said. “You are. You are so special. Don’t you know it’s Christmas? Christmas is for… friends and sharing and—“

“Feeding the world,” Jack scoffed. “I get it, but really—“

“Jackie,” Race whimpered. “Please?”

Jack sighed. “I… fine, just… a little… but then we are gonna go home,” he breathed.

Race clung to his brother’s leg. Jack sighed and walked after Katherine who led them into a dining room and began to literally take food off the table from her family who stared at her like she was crazy. “Mom, this is my friend Jack and his brother Race and we will be taking food to their family tonight. Thank you and goodnight,” she stated and Jack’s eyes widened a bit.

Katherine looked back at them, paying no mind to the family around her, angry as she took their food from them. “Well, aren’t you coming?” she asked.

Jack didn’t hesitate for a second. He guessed the would feed the world. After all, they certainly had enough food.

[harryspet]

the good guy | steve rogers

[warnings] dark steve rogers x reader, pre-serum steve x reader, 40′s setting, petite reader, angst, noncon sex (wear a condom, kids), public sex?

A/N: this was inspired by @darkastrea​ ‘s idea where the reader falls for skinny steve because he’s small like her and makes her less insecure but after the war she’s not attracted to him anymore and super soldier steve doesn’t handle the rejection well. 

THIS ADULT CONTENT AND CONTAINS TRIGGERING SUBJECTS

In which Steve returns from the war and things just aren’t the same. 

word count: 3.6k

Everyone looked past you. Even your own family. Steve was the only one who understood that. He understood everyone looking down on you, literally. He was small like you but he was the one who knew how to stand up for himself. You admired that. 

The first time you met him, he had ducked into the bakery you worked at part time. The sign clearly read “closed” but the lights of the shop were still on. As he hid behind one of the tables, you watched as a group of men ran past the front of the store, completely missing their target. 

He had always had a way of astonishing you. When he introduced himself that night, you had no idea how deep your bond would grow. 

You were barely over five feet and that seemed to shock Steve as much as his height shocked you. Everyone seemed to tower over you and every woman Steve met towered over him. No thanks to the family you grew up with, most men intimidated you. Steve seemed to be different than most guys. 

“Do you always go looking for fights?” You asked, handing him a cup of coffee. You took a break from closing up the shop to get to know the courageous stranger. 

“Not always, ma’am,” He answered, a sly smile on his face, “But I’ve noticed that they just continue to pick on you when you stand down.”

You nervously tapped at your coffee cup as his words sunk in, “But won’t they always win when they’re bigger than you …” Steve could sense the double meaning behind your words but decided it was best not to dig into the intimacies of a strangers life. 

“They lose their power when you’re confident. They assume. because you’re smaller, that you’re mentally weaker. They back off when you show them you’re not.”

You slowly nodded, stirring your spoon around your coffee, “Is that why you ran in here?”

“Oh, those guys? My method works better against one guy, not six. With six guys, you just gotta run,” You laughed at that and Steve noted your beautiful smile. In all these years, he’d never gotten close to getting a girl to smile like that for him. They looked past him because of his scrawny looks yet you saw him, “Are you the Gloria in Gloria’s Sweets?”

You shook your head, your smile still wide, “Oh no, that’s my boss. I’m Y/N,” Steve held his hand out to shake yours. 

“Steve Rogers.”

You looked down at your watch, knowing that you’d be expected home soon, “Well, if you don’t mind, I have to clean up and then get home.” As you stood up from your seat, Steve stood up abruptly too. 

“I can help,” He rushed out, “And I can escort you home … since it’s so late.”

Your head cocked to the side, curiously, “Really?”

“Of course,” Steve said, “It’s the least I could do after distracting you from work.”

You slowly nodded in agreement, “Okay.”

You cleaned up the kitchen together and Steve explained the reason those six guys were chasing him. Apparently, he was out drinking with his friend Bucky and saw the drunks messing with a stray cat, throwing bottles at it. He kindly tried to tackle one of the guys and the chase ensued. “At least the cat escaped,” Steve said. 

You closed up the shop and allowed Steve to walk you home. Luckily, there was no sign of the group of men from before. You walked the five blocks home, Steve acting as your “protection”. Really, you were just enjoying his company. 

“This is me,” You said as you stopped in front of your building, “We should probably say bye here. My family will send me to some Christian camp in the midwest if they catch me with a boy.”

Steve nodded, his lips in a thin line, “... Can I ... Can I see you again, Y/N?”

You nodded, a soft smile on your lips, “You know where I work. Swing by any time, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve’s heart did a backflip in his chest and a happy warmth heated his cheeks, “Yes, ma’am.”

+

You hadn’t realized what you were experiencing with Steve was a crush until this moment. When you ran together on the sandy beach because he surprised you with a day trip. He knew you had been stressed out from nursing school and wanted to help you relax. 

Your mother thought you were at a girl friend’s home, of course, but even she had met Steve already. Five months ago, you invited Steve to dinner with your family. It was one of the most awkward experiences of your life. Your father grilled him on his intentions, your mother didn’t seem to think he was worthy of you and your older brothers made jokes about his appearance. 

You thought he might be done with you after that. Turns out, Steve was quite used to people talking to him that way. It hadn’t scared him off at all, only made him understand why you acted the way you did. He understood why you went through life with your head down. 

Your family had bulldozed over you for your entire life. 

You snapped out of the memory as Steve grabbed your hand. He spun you in a circle and you danced around in the sand. The waves were loud and the people celebrating Memorial Day. 

The two of you plopped down onto the sand as you attempted to catch your breath. Your long cream skirt was dirtied but that didn’t matter much to you. You were focused on the sparkling blue in his eyes, the hint of green you noticed, and how incredibly kind they were. 

“Steve,” You breathed, “Thank you.”

“For what?” He grinned back at you. 

For caring like no one ever has. For letting you talk. For making you laugh. 

“For today,” You said instead, “I really needed this.”

You stayed at the beach all day, eating the lunch Steve packed for the two of you and then laying down to look at the stars as night set. 

Your hands brushed against each other but neither of you was bold enough to grab onto one another. 

“Y/N,” You turned your head to him as he called your name, “I brought you here to tell you something.”

You turned on your side, resting your head against your hand, “What’s that?”

The eager look on your face quickly fell as you realized he wasn’t about to confess his love for you, “You know how badly I wanted to enlist,” You nodded your head, scared of his next words, “Well, an opportunity arose. I get to go to boot camp, to train, and finally prove myself. If I get chosen for this project, I can make a real difference.”

Bullies. Steve hated bullies no matter where they came from. 

You were quiet for a moment and Steve struggled to read the emotions on your face, “I want to be happy for you, I do. This is your dream …” Your voice trailed off, “But I worry, Steve. They rejected you five times. What makes you think you’re not just a sacrifice?”

Steve simply shrugged, “It’s the cause that matters more. I want to help any way that I can.”

“You don’t care about coming back,” Your eyes welled with tears, “To me?”

“Of course I do,” Steve turned on his side now, reaching out to brush a tear from your cheek, and brush a curl behind your ear, “But I have to do this. I just have to. And when I get back, we’re going to drive across the country and see all the sites. From east to west, we’ll see everything.”

“I hope you mean that, Steve. Promise you’ll come back?”

“I swear.”

+

Steve kept his promise. It took until the very end of the war but he kept his promise. Only, things had changed so much since last saw him. You couldn’t believe the Steve you saw in those newspapers. He had completely turned into a hero. You already knew he was a hero but it seemed the rest of the world could recognize it now. 

Your family’s tune completely changed. Now they were begging you to marry him. Deep down, with all the changes, you didn’t even expect Steve to care about you anymore. Every woman in the world was swooning over him. 

As you stepped out of the brownstone where your classes were held, clutching your brown sweater tight to you, you didn’t expect the sight before you. Steve was there, clad in his army brown suit, and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. 

The girls who normally brushed past you stopped to stare. It baffled them that Steve was there for you, someone who was barely noticeable in a crowd. 

Steve’s white smile was wide as you approached him, clutching your bag at your side, “Steve-” He instantly pulled you into a hug and, already, you felt things were off. Your head was pressed against his chest as he pulled you in and his suffocating, strong arms wrapped around you. He was an entire foot taller now and had gained at least a hundred more pounds of pure muscle. 

He didn’t look anything like the Steve you knew before, even his face had changed slightly. 

You spoke as he finally let you go, “Steve, what are you-”

“These are for you,” He interrupted you, handing you the flowers, “God, I really missed you.”

“I missed you too,” You agreed, smiling awkwardly up at him. You looked around to see a group of people were staring, “Maybe we could talk somewhere else?”

Steve agreed, his smile still wide. He hadn’t yet noticed your trepidation through the excitement of it all. 

You and Steve found a restaurant a few blocks away, but even there, people seemed to stare at the two of you. The waitress practically spilled coffee on you from being distracted by him, “Y/N, is something wrong?”

You shook your head though you didn’t mean it, “It’s just … this is all so new. I didn’t expect you’d come back …. like this.”

Steve didn’t seem to get the hint, “What do you think? Do you like the new features?” Part of you was grateful that there was a table between the two of you. The man radiated so much power now, “I can make more than a difference now. I can run a mile in less than a minute, lift a war missile. I can protect the little guys.”

“That’s great,” You were happy for him but you couldn’t help but feel a bit intimidated by his newfound abilities, “Those goons at the bars won’t know what hit them.”

Steve chuckled, “Enough about me. How’s school?”

“It’s good. My finals are soon so we’ll find out if I have what it takes.”

“I’m sure you do,” Steve assured you, “You’re the smartest girl I know, Y/N. What about your family?”

“They’re the same. In my business as usual,” You thought about your next words carefully, “My mom … she’s starting to set me up on all these dates. She says that, in case I don’t pass my exams, that I should have someone to support me. Things are getting tight, you know?”

“Oh?” You saw the light leave his eyes and you mentally cursed, “Are you really interested in one of these guys?”

You shrugged, “I’m not sure. I really just want to focus on school and work. Dating is so complicated.”

“Oh,” Steve said again, tucking the ring box he held under the table back into his pocket, “Yes, complicated … before I left, I thought we sort of had a shot, Y/N.”

“... Me and the super soldier? The world would probably laugh at you for choosing someone like me.”

“They wouldn’t. If they did, I’d take care of ‘em.”

“It’s a sweet fantasy, Steve.”

With that, you successfully broke Captain America’s heart. 

+

Steve thought you just needed time. You’d soon realize that he was still like the old Steve and you’d come running into his arms later, begging to be with him. It didn’t seem to matter how much time passed, three months to be exact, because you had changed the way you saw him. 

You still entertained him during your late shifts and you got to hear all about his secret missions. He still had the same sense of justice that you had admired him for. You could barely believe the things that he accomplished. 

Tonight, Steve refused to just sit around the diner, he wanted to go out. He was going to take you into the new drive-in upstate. He had a completely new car courtesy of SHIELD and he was keen to show you a life of luxury. You had never heard of a drive-in before, let alone been to one. Steve explained to you that they were going to be the “next big thing”. 

He paid a couple of cents for the movie, even though you told him that you’d pay for yourself. You noticed how, lately when you protested, he’d simply raise his hand up and give you a look that said “I’ve got this”. You knew he was only trying to be a gentleman but part of you disliked the feeling it gave you. 

The two of you met up with Bucky and his current fling. Both Steve and Bucky seemed to be riding the high that winning the war brought them. You watched them talk before the movie, Bucky’s girl practically drooling over him. As you went to your separate cars, it seemed she couldn’t keep her hands off of him. 

As you watched them kiss, practically swallowing each other, Steve wrapped his arm around your shoulder. You tried your best not to let out a sigh as you watched him try to play it cool, “I don’t think they’re stopping to breathe,” You commented and Steve’s eyes looked past you into the car beside yours. You didn’t notice but Steve’s eyes had turned to you, “I mean, I didn’t even know people kissed like that in real life.”

When you turned back around to look at Steve, he was suddenly grabbing your face and smashing his lips onto yours. Hungry and desperate, sloppy and inexperienced, his lips moved against your frozen face. As soon as the realization hit, you tried your best to push him away. It was like pushing at a boulder. 

“Steve-” You struggled to cry out against his lips, “Steve, stop!”

When Steve finally pulled away, you tried to catch your breath as you wiped away your smudged lipstick. Steve stared at you in disbelief as you shouted, “What is wrong with you?” Luckily, the windows were rolled up and people were focused on the movie screen, “What did I say to make you think I wanted to kiss you? Y-You said this wasn’t a date.”

“I’m … I’m sorry,” He apologized. It was stupid to think that his new body had changed everything. He was still that small kid that would get rejected over and over. Steve turned away from you, his blood starting to boil. 

“I want to go home,” You told him, not meeting his eyes. Could you even be his friend anymore? Everything about him was beginning to intimidate you. 

Steve didn’t say another word as he put the car in reverse. He wasted no time interrupting Bucky’s makeout session or finishing the movie. The two of you sat in silence for a long while as you drove down the dark, winding road. 

“That day at the beach, you cried,” You looked up and noted how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel, “You cried when you heard I was getting shipped off and, now … what’s changed, Y/N?”

You could sense the hurt in this voice and your lip began to wobble as you thought of those nights you spent crying over him, “Steve ... “ You sighed.

“What is it?” Steve persisted, “I told you that I don’t care what other people think!”

“Steve, that’s not it!” You insisted, “You’re not … you’re not the little guy anymore. Being with you used to make me feel safe a-and now ....”

“Now I’m just like every other guy?” You nodded, your face solemn. The car slowed down and Steve pulled to the side of the road, “I’m the bad guy now? After everything?”

“I know you’re not the bad guy … ” As he turned his body to face you, you felt yourself cowering back, your small body sinking into the leather seat. You felt the frustration and testosterone radiating off of him. Your breathing hitched in your throat as Steve pulled out the ring box in his pocket. 

“I don’t understand why you can’t just accept me,” Steve spoke, his deep voice growing rougher, “Why can’t you just love me like you used to?”

“You’re a killing machine,” You spoke softly, “A tool for destruction.”

The car went silent as Steve simply stared at you, that same hunger in his eyes. He reached out to grab your face, “I can be gentle,” He tried to assure you and you reached up to grab onto his arm, pushing it away. The fact that the only reason his hand moved was because he wanted to move it, was enough for you. If he wanted, he could do anything to you. 

“Steve, I want to go home,” You stated as firmly as you could. Your hands were starting to shake, your anxiety reaching a new height. 

“You aren’t going anywhere,” Steve stated firmly, turning off the ignition, “Not until you agree to let me put that ring on your finger.”

Your eyes darted around, looking for a passerby or a car to drive by. Nothing. You began to panic and before Steve could reach out for you again, you opened the passenger door and stumbled out, “Y/N!” Your hands hit the dirt as you scrambled to your feet and you quickly lost one of your heels. Despite the pain of the dirt and asphalt, you slipped off the other one, picking up your long skirt as you began to run. 

You had never heard Steve curse before but he did as he got out of the car to chase you, “Y/N, don’t run from me!” You sped up as you heard him coming after you. You thought you could at least make it a few more feet but the wind was knocked out of you as Steve wrapped his arms around you. 

You fought hard against the man that was three times your size though you both knew your efforts were futile. He easily tossed you over your shoulder and carried you the distance back to the car. You called for help and as he set you back down, he covered your mouth with his own hand, his fingers tightening around your face. 

You screamed even harder as you kicked between his legs. He let you go only to fall on top of you, sending you both to the ground. Steve groaned, still managing to hold your hands down as he recovered. He was fuming at this point as you squirmed around in the dirt. Looking into your frightened eyes, Steve made a decision. 

A decision that would make you regret ever handing him that cup of coffee. 

“I protect you, I protect everyone, and I’m the bad guy?” It was rhetorical, you understood that as Steve tore open your blouse, exposing your white brassier, “I’ll show you what I am.”

Steve pinned down your legs with his own as he held your arms pinned above your head with one of his own. Not bothering to fumble with your skirt, he simply tore away the fabric. You screamed louder but only the silence of the night answered you. 

Steve pulled away your white underwear, exposing your sensitive area to the cool air of the night, “Steve, I-I’m sorry,” You pleaded, choking on your sobs, “Please don’t, I’m a virgin!”

“Then this will be special for both of us,” Steve concluded, fumbling with his belt and pulling down his trousers. You tried not to look down as he positioned himself between your legs, “We’re going to be happy together like we were intended to be. It’ll feel so good that you’ll forget your doubts”

His grip on you was so tight that you were sure that he’d leave bruises. As he pushed his tip against your entrance, you could feel how hard he was. This wasn’t how your first time should’ve been. You should be married and on a honeymoon, not on the side of the road. 

You cried out as he slowly pushed inside of you. Your body continued to struggle, resulting in Steve moving his hand to wrap around your neck. His fingers tightened around your neck as you struggled to breathe clearly. 

You wrapped around him tightly, resisting him but Steve pushed through. It was a magical feeling to Steve. All he could ask for was having his first time with the woman of his dreams. 

Steve grunted as his pace began to quicken. He made you feel so small and defenseless. The member between his legs was practically the size of your forearm, successfully impaling you. You couldn’t believe that your body was beginning to adjust to him. It was starting to get pleasure from the friction he was creating. 

“That’s it, darling,” Steve groaned as mangled moans began to leave your mouth, “Enjoy the feeling of me being inside you, enjoy being mine. You don’t need someone ‘good’, you need someone efficient.”

That night, after he had taken your virtue, Steve knew he had the rest of you too. He’d make you his little wife.

+

Hope you enjoyed this because I loved writing it!!

[paperpocalypse]

shoulder.

50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You”: 22. Listening to them while they vent.

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 1,554 words

Warning: Swearing

Griddy’s Doughnuts, eleven past eleven on a muggy summer night, is probably the closest you’ll ever get to the twilight zone. And you kind of like it. The white, circular ceiling lights, the generic posters of steaming pancakes and coffee, the almost-emptiness of the place – it’s so different from the bustle of city life that you feel like you’re suspended in time, existing only to drink milkshakes and eat donuts.

There are two other reasons why you go to Griddy’s, though. For one, your friend Martha. She’s an adult, which your grandmother doesn’t like because you’ve been here for four years and still haven’t made any friends at school, which would be more normal. But you’ve always been better at talking to adults than people your own age, and Martha is so nice that you don’t really care how old she is. Plus, she lets you bring leftover donuts home for free.

Reason two is more like six.

“Five! Hey!”

… Though it seems like tonight, only one of them is stopping by.

(Not that you mind his company at all.)

Martha is still in the bathroom, so you skirt behind the counter, grabbing a napkin as Five walks in and seats himself at the corner barstool.

“Where’re your siblings?” you ask, opening the donut case and grabbing an apple fritter.

Five gives you a closed-lipped smile that’s all business and no pleasure. “Sleeping,” he says. He picks up a butter knife and examines it. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah,” you grab a plate and put the fritter on it, “I saw it on the news. Lincoln Memorial in D.C., right?” Sliding the plate toward Five, you lean your elbows on the counter and crack a grimace. “It … looked pretty bad.”

“I’m talking about what happened afterward. D.C. was fine.” Five puts the knife down in favor of the donut. He stares at it, frown set deep onto his face, and takes a bite.

Judging by what you saw on TV this afternoon, you wouldn’t necessarily say D.C. was fine, but your definition of the word is pretty different from his. Nobody had died, so you guess in that respect it was fine. You knit your brow. “What do you mean, ‘what happened afterward’? Did any of you get hurt?”

He grunts. “Not on the mission. Dad wasn’t happy with how we did things in D.C., so he had us do extra training once we got back. Klaus threw up on the stairs.”

You gape. “… Is he okay?”

“He’ll be fine.” Five tears off a chunk of his donut and pops it into his mouth, tasting it carefully. “It happens more often than you think. And anyway, I’m more concerned about …”

He looks over your shoulder, chewing quietly. You lean in just a little closer.

“About …?”

“You mind getting me a cup of that?” he asks, gesturing to the coffee machine behind you.

You follow his gaze, bewildered. “You want caffeine right now?”

“I have work to do after I’m done here.”

That’s probably the vaguest explanation you’ve ever heard. Not that you’re surprised; Five has shared several things about his life with you, but some topics he likes to keep to himself. Briefly, you wonder if you’ll ever completely understand him. You hope so.

In any case, you pour him a mug of coffee.

“Thanks,” Five says when you hand it to him, dipping his fritter into the brew.

You walk around the counter, sitting down next to him. “You’re very welcome. I hope you won’t regret it.”

“I rarely regret anything.” His donut is now half-gone, and you know he means what he says. Exhaling, he looks into his mug and then at you, seeming to contemplate whether he should continue before doing so. “I’m talking about my sister. Vanya.”

Vanya. You search your memories and find her – quiet, doe-eyed, brown hair with bangs. She came in with Five a few months ago, just the two of them, and they didn’t stay for very long. When you had chatted with her, she proved to be very sweet but painfully shy, unused to being out and about. Five had gotten her a plain glazed donut.

“Yeah, she came here with you once.” You tilt your head, eyes narrowing in thought. “She doesn’t have any powers, right?”

Five nods his head once, slowly. “She’s … the black sheep of the family. To put it lightly. Anyway, after dinner today, she showed me this piece she’s been working on for weeks – a violin concerto by Bach.”

“Oh! Good for her.”

“It’s the closest thing she has to a special ability,” he states, not unkindly. “Vanya’s been playing for three years now, and she’s mentioned wanting to play in an orchestra. I figured that since nobody really knows about her, and she’s ordinary, it wouldn’t hurt for her to go out once or twice a week to rehearsals – as long as we had a guard or something to watch her, of course. So I went with her to ask our dad about it.”

You have a feeling how it had gone. “How’d he take it?”

“What do you think?” He smiles tightly, folding his hands. “He said no. It’s too much of a security risk for the academy. And, furthermore, she wouldn’t have time outside of studying and helping out with our training.”

Five grabs his coffee and takes a gulp. You bite your lip, thinking of the small, timid girl that didn’t know how to order a simple donut. What did she do while her siblings were out fighting criminals and doing interviews? Watch them? Stay inside, playing her violin that no one listened to except for Five?

“That sucks,” you murmur, slumping down to rest your chin on your arms. “I’m sorry.”

He puts the mug down with a hard clink. “It’s all bullshit, but what can we do? Vanya just accepted it like she usually does.”

“I wish there was a way to convince your dad.”

“Not unless Allison rumors him. But she wouldn’t do that for Vanya.” Inspecting the last bit of his fritter, Five picks it back up and finishes it in one swallow. “Like I said, black sheep.”

He wipes his hand with a napkin, placing it to the left of his plate before looking over at you, pensive. You stare back, fingers busy with the napkin crushed between them, then give him a small smile. Some of his irritation softens.

“… I’m sorry to interrupt, kids, but it’s almost midnight.”

You jump at Martha’s voice. Holy crap, how long had she been there?

The woman glances down at you, eyes crinkling from a grin as she takes Five’s plate. He looks a little miffed by the interruption. “Don’t worry, I know how customers like their privacy. I just wanted to tell you that I can drive you back, hon,” Martha continues, directing the offer to you. “Though Agnes is going to be late for her shift, so you’ll have to wait about a half hour or so.”

“No need.” Five knocks back the rest of his coffee and stands up, handing her a five-dollar bill. “I’ll walk [Y/n] back.”

“Will you?” She takes a moment to gloss over his uniform. “Well, aren’t you a dear. Would you mind going with him, hon? I don’t want you going back later than you have to.”

Five quirks an eyebrow at you when you turn to him. Your face warms unexpectedly. “I … guess so,” you answer as you leave your seat, suddenly awkward for reasons you can’t explain.

“Then that’s settled. I trust you Umbrella kids can keep your charges safe.”

“Of course.” He straightens his tie, nodding at Martha and you before turning to go.

Martha catches your arm. “Here’s something for the road.” She hands you a small paper bag, speckled with grease. You take it gratefully, about to thank her, but then she leans in and your words die on your tongue when she whispers, “Make sure to take his arm when he offers it, hon.”

Discreetly, she winks at you. Your cheeks burn hotter, much to your horror.

“[Y/n]? Are we going or what?”

“Y-Yeah, coming,” you answer, giving Martha a quick hug over the counter and hurrying over to Five, who’s holding the door open. “Bye, Martha.”

“G’night, you two.”

As the two of you pass by the windows of Griddy’s Doughnuts, you look through and see your friend wave, dishcloth in hand and a beam on her face. Her words run through your mind as you wave back. What a weird piece of advice. People don’t offer their arms anymore, and as you sneak a glance at your companion, you wonder if Five would even be the type to do so.

After a few minutes, you find that he isn’t. But he also doesn’t move away when you walk close enough for your hands to touch, and when you reach up, hesitantly, to grasp his sleeve when a car passes by – continuing to hold it until you reach your apartment – he doesn’t say a word. He says goodnight to you, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, when the two of you stand at your door, and he makes sure you get in safely.

And for now, that’s perfectly enough.

[pillow-anime-talk]

traditional & maternal s/o.

synopsis: You as a beautiful, traditionally dressed and perfectly behaved woman who shows maternal behavior towards your partner’s subordinates.

# tags: headcanons; current relationships; mature!reader; romance; fluff; slice of life; sfw

includes: female reader ft. yukichi fukuzawa, ougai mori & francis scott key fitzgerald {bsd}

— YUKICHI

↘ Fukuzawa is also a traditional man, so when he met you for the first time, he was genuinely delighted with your grace and your way of speaking. Your delicate tone of voice and perception of the world made a huge, positive impression on him. On top of that, you were really beautiful, and your flowery yukata perfectly highlighted your pretty smile, eye color and hair.

↘ You were adults, so your feelings towards each other were slow and mature. However, when you finally got into a relationship, shortly after that, you lived together in a beautiful old minka with a huge engawa, where you loved to relax and talk about his day at work or plans for the future.

↘ You made the most delicious tea in the whole world and you were a great housewife who loved to cook, bake and take care of others. Yukichi was even happier when you brought to home a homeless little kitten with a twisted paw one day. You took care of him together, considering the pet as your first baby.

↘ More than six months after you moved in together, you visited your partner at the Agency for the first time. Fukuzawa talked to you about his subordinates more than once, showed you their photos and always smiled slightly. And when Kyouka – who was wearing traditional Japanese clothes just like you – joined the Armed Detective Agency the man said that you two looked quite similar.

↘ When on that day, you crossed the area of the building and then knocked on the wooden door, you sighed a little, a bit stressful about meeting new people. Shortly thereafter, a tall, blonde-haired boy with a green notebook in his hand appeared on your doorstep and greeted you. You bowed as well, and then with his consent, you entered the office.

↘ “Have you had an appointment on any case, Lady? How can I help you?” Kunikida asked in a polite tone, and you shook your head.

↘ “I came privately. I made some mochi for you, kids.” You responded warmly. Your person immediately interested Ranpo, Atsushi and Dazai. “Ah, I didn’t introduce myself, I’m so sorry. I am Y/N Y/L/N. Nice to meet you all. Also thank you for taking care of our beautiful city.”

↘ “... How did I deserve to meet such a wonderf...” Osamu began with a broad smile, but the newspaper that hit him on the head silenced his happy lips immediately.

↘ “Stop scaring my partner, Dazai.” Fukuzawa walked towards you, standing next to your figure. “Something happened that you came?”

↘ “Oh, no, Yukichi. I just wanted to meet your almost adopted children.” You smiled at everyone in the room. “And I’ve done too much mochi.” You added when you went to one of the desks to lay out the colorful sweets. The members of the Agency were fascinated with you from the first second.

↘ Yosano was really happy to see her President with a woman who was so perfect for him. Kyouka immediately saw her deceased mother in you and held your yukata with each subsequent meeting, following you step by step. Naomi and Kirako loved hearing your stories and always asked you for tasty recipes. Atsushi, Kenji and Ranpo were your little babies to you, while Jun’ichirou was like your eldest son. Kunikida, on the other hand, was terribly ashamed of you, but finally overcame his shyness, stating that you were a wonderful woman and the future wife of his master. Dazai liked you, of course; even though you often scolded him because of his behavior, he still adored you and respected your person very much.

↘ Your beloved was more than pleased to see that you had such a good relation with his subordinates. You even had great contacts with Fukuzawa’s mentor, Mr. Natsume. It all confirmed Yukichi’s thoughts that you were the best woman he could ever meet.

— OUGAI

↘ Mori wasn’t surprised that another woman around him dressed in traditional kimonos and tied her hair in beautiful buns or braids. After all, he had Kouyou under his command, and before that, also had the sweet Kyouka.

↘ However, what got you all his attention is your kindness and dedication to others.

↘ Neither you, nor Ougai, nor even Elise will forget the day when three of you met in the middle of the street and at the same moment a thief ran out of the bank and his hand with the gun was automatically directed towards Elise who standing next to you. You covered her with your own body, fearing that a stranger would hurt her, but luckily nothing like that came, because Mori personally knocked him out and then calmed your terrified thoughts.

↘ He sincerely thanked you, then suggested a walk and a coffee in a nearby bar. Elise held your warm hand all the way and you were literally the first person the girl liked and trusted so quickly. I think she saw the mother in you, though she shouldn’t have thought so, since she was only Mori’s ability.

↘ But now we are here, a few weeks later, when you recognized the girl as your beloved daughter, and at the same time you became the wife of the boss of the Port Mafia, knowing very well what could happen to you.

↘ But even that, your relationship was really nice and warm; the man finally had someone to come back to, he had someone to talk to about something more than just work, he could cuddle someone and watch a movie or cook a delicious dinner together. Additionally, Elise could finally feel like a real, normal girl and could protect someone more than her own creator. They were both sincerely in love with you, albeit on different levels of this feeling.

↘ Your meeting the rest of the Mafia members was totally unplanned, because one afternoon your beloved husband called you to ask for important documents that he left in a locker, in his office, in your shared small apartment. Of course, you agreed to bring them to him, and on the way to the building you also went to the bakery to buy him and the cute girl something sweet to eat; you chose tiny fruit tarts and a few donuts.

↘ Ten minutes later, you entered the huge building very calmly, looking around to find an elevator or stairs. When you moved another few steps, you immediately stopped when the figure of blonde-haired Elise with a huge syringe appeared in front of you, and a black-haired – unknown to you – boy was thrown hard against the nearest wall.

↘ “Akutagawa senpai!”

↘ Your eyes widened when Elise hugged your stomach, covered by flowery, long yukata. You were still looking at the boy lying next to the white wall, who a second ago wanted to overpower you, probably considering you a threat from outside. You understood it perfectly well, after all, the Mafia had many enemies.

↘ “... Don’t touch my okaa-san!” The girl screamed, squeezing your body a little tighter. You touched her smol head, stroking the blonde locks, and smiled warmly.

↘ “Elise, my honey, you shouldn’t treat others like that, okay?” You asked softly, to which the girl nodded uncertainly. The security staff next to you, as well as Akutagawa and Higuchi, were shocked by Elise’s polite behavior towards your person. Who were you? “Where’s Ougai, my honey?”

↘ “He’ll be here soon. I was faster than him because I sensed you entering the building. I just wanted to say hi.” She replied with a blush and you laughed softly. “It’s for me?” She asked suddenly, pointing her finger at a paper bag with the smell of icing and kiwi. You nodded and handed her the brown bag full of sweets, then headed towards the still-lying boy and woman with the two guns in her hands.

↘ “Are you okay? I’m so sorry to cause the confusion, I didn’t want to look suspicious.” You whispered, stroking his head while guessing that the Mafia man in front of you is quite young. “Does something hurt you?”

↘ “... Oh, Y/N-chan, what happened?” Finally Ougai came downstairs and you smiled once again.

↘ “There was a little misunderstanding, but it’s okay now.” You answered softly, patting the twenty-year-old’s dark hair one more time. Ryuunosuke found your touch really soothing.

↘ “B-Boss...! Excuse m-me, but...!”

↘ “Hmm. I guess, all of you have already met my lovely wife?” He asked rhetorically, walking up to you, helping you to get up and kissing your forehead. “Be nice to her, otherwise you know what awaits you.”

↘ Akutagawa and Higuchi nodded slowly, swallowing the saliva in their mouths. The boy was really glad that day that Elise had stopped him, because it could end up really... bad.

↘ Needless to say, you gradually got to know more and more people and every member of the Port Mafia liked you; you were especially close to Kouyou, Gin and Yumeno, who became another baby to love for you. And also, despite the first meeting, Akutagawa adored you very very very much. You spoiled him as much as your daughter.

— FRANCIS

↘ Fitzgerald met you in the store when he was at one of the many sales. You watched him with a soft laugh as he selected pots and other cheap things.

↘ Of course he noticed you quickly; how could he not do that? Your traditional, long kimono and breathtaking hairstyle immediately caught his eye, as did your warm expression and amused, shiny eyes. So he replied with a big, manly smile, then started a conversation about how delighted he was with the items here and their prices. You two talked for a long time that day, and in meantime, he invited you for coffee at the nearest coffee shop.

↘ (Of course you had to take him there and teach him to use the menu card because he never has been in the cafe, lmao.)

↘ After eating a sweet, delicious cake and drinking a warm drink, you left the small building and moved on, still talking about your life and plans for the coming days. In the middle of Yokohama city, both of you found Miss Alcott who looking in shock at her leader who was so kind and affectionate turning towards a woman he had barely known.

↘ Louisa, as a great mind, immediately stated that you are a really good human, full of warmth, empathy and respect for other people. All of this was even more true when you offered two newly met people to use your own home to devise a plan for their actions to regain their good name, social status and money. Francis was more than grateful and Louisa genuinely happy that she didn’t have to rent something ugly and dingy.

↘ They stayed with you for more than a few days, and you, as a good housewife, continued to delight them with your tasty meals, desserts and scented tea.

↘ The natural course of things was that the man fell in love with you. However, before confessing his love to you, he first wanted to earn to ensure you a decent life; as his future, wonderful wife.

↘ That’s why he first returned as ‘The Great Fitzgerald’ and then as the man who took your heart and promised to treat you like a Queen.

↘ Of course you agreed; not for money or gifts, but only for him and his honest heart, because the whole situation has brought you closer to each other like nothing else. You supported him very much in his return and you were really proud and glad when Francis came to you one day in a fancy suit, took you in his arms and sincerely thanked you for the last weeks of support.

↘ Shortly after that, you became a couple and later, you became his fiancée. The man thought you were just his personal guardian angel and your getting to know each other was simply planned by fate.

↘ Miss Alcott was more than happy to see you two smiling and so beautifully in love.

↘ Now all you have been waiting for is a wedding and the enlargement of your little family.