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tarjapearce · 5 months

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Dr. Michael Stone (Pt. 2)

Art and Character by: Spiderthingcoo on X

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, forced voyeurism, body exploration, edging, double v penetration, female anatomy, rough and drugged induced sex, manhandling, substance abuse, 3some-ish, rimming (m receiving) nudity appreciation, breeding kink, a bit of dacryphilia, Objectification, overstimulation, filthyness undercut, no proofread, bit of cum play, bellybulge, electrocution, Michael is a sick fuck and I love him.

Miguelverse

Summary: Michael Stone has the time of his life.

A/N: I got too carried away and the fanart didn't help jskjs, hope you enjoy <3

Time ran at the speed of a snail. Each blink was torture, like you were removing seconds from the clock with each brief pause of your eyes.

How long have you been here? Certainly too fed up with trying in succeeding to escape. There was no punctual way to determine in which part of the day you were as there was no windows, no clocks, or anything of the sort that dictated the unstoppable force that always outlasted everything within reach.

Just dull pale grey walls, borderline white in every direction your sight stretched. Which wasn't much.

Your new habitat, was minimalistic, decored with the basics to sate physiological needs such as sleep, shower or pee. Ceiling too lowered to crawl or stretch your muscles properly when you tried to keep mobility going.

A fancy cage, nothing much, nothing less.

How long had it been since he slammed the door shut? Days? Week?

You didn't know. And the lack of a sense of time was irrevocably screwing with your head in a way it resembled how Michael had fucked your insides. There was no sun to bath in, no wind to blow and mess with your hair as you swung through the buildings, providing the right amount of adrenaline, no structures to crawl or stretch your muscles completely on. No external stimulus.Nothing.

Just a few meters of space that caged you like a live sample for a maniac's twisted experimenting and amusement. Fed and cleaned whenever you required it. It sometimes blurred the line between being a pet and a Guinea pig.

Just your cell, withering away your spirit. Even the food provided, lacked that homey seasoning you adored indulging in HQ's cafeteria after a mission. The only rift of color popping in the tray and around you were the vast array of vitamins and minerals, shaped in round and squared pills, nested within a metallic cup.

Cause according to him, if his offspring was to emerge within you, your body had to be properly nurtured. Ironically, the food was bland and tasteless, but you didn't starve. And it spooked you how easy your body took a liking to it.

Skin healthier, glowing and silky even, a soft natural flush dressed your cheeks, metabolism in its peak, a couple of pounds were lost, but that was the least of your concerns.

He was set into perfecting the vessel for his future seedling. You.

Michael was... You didn't even know where to start besides being the obvious doppelganger of Miguel. The only way you could tell them apart was because of his eyes. They were brown, like the most scrumptious shade of chocolate you've ever seen.

Unlike Miguel, he just took what he wanted and needed, everything in the name of science. He was the embodiment of 'the end justifies the means'.

Alluring, inviting you to a forbidden and fucked up world where he was the unanimous and dangerous sovereign. Like his whole aura. His impassive act was only a coy facade to hide what was underneath.

Madness, lust and something so dern you didn't want to try and decipher cause in truth, you were terrified to fuck around and find out. He had already gave you a little taste of his abyss, but it wasn't enough for him. He wanted you to drown in him and everything that rendered his mere existence.

He needed to crown a queen for his chaos. And what a better way to do it, than choosing you to give him a perfect offspring.

In his own twisted world the need of a superior being was a must. A need he was creating the proper foundation to sate.

He was prepping you to bare his child. And it scared you to no end. Not that you didn't want kids, but to be forced to fit into that role out of sudden scared you shitless.

And you didn't want to sour and make your thoughts awkward by knowing a variant of Miguel would be the father.

Fuck. No.

If your mind could have arms, it surely would've slapped itself for such thought. Not that you didn't think Miguel was handsome, in fact, you avoided being seen as that recruit that had the hots for the boss, lingering too much around him made you more nervous than you liked to admit.

And when you were paired with him, the anxiety of knowing you could mess up went heavenwards. Your Miguel wasn't one to dwell into conversations if they weren't necessary, canon before personal interests came first and always, awkward social skills that came out stilted and forced almost mechanically, specially when someone caught him off guard or in the high level of stress his gorgeous brain fed him on a daily basis.

Grumpy was his default emotional read, snarky or dry humored replies when dumb questions were asked, overworked to the bone. Secretly labeling himself as a bad man cause of the things he needed to do in order to keep the arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse working, a walking failure through and through, weak for meeting his emotional needs and trying to be happy for once and failing at it, and apparently the only one that knew how to keep everything together.

And still, the first one that always replied the call for help by either sending a group, or creating an escape plan route to ensure your and the rest's safety with the help of Lyla.

Unlike him. The man in the flesh and bone, that would easily supplant him physically, and had been watching you ever since you awoke. You didn't have to turn to him to know his presence had invaded your already reduced and secluded space.

Brown coals raked over the slope of your neck, the dip between your shoulder and junction, gaze remained over your rising form in every disguised breath you took, hoping he'd go away. Long and tan fingers tangled softly in the silks of your hair and the touch alone made your skin crawl, and not precisely in a good and pleasant way, no.

Whenever he was around your spider senses tingled, sometimes you'd end up with a headache, unable to shut it off. You didn't have to look deep enough to know he was as messed up and unpredictable as the task he had bestowed upon you.

"Eres tan perfecta..." his impish titter made your heart wrench and anxiety to bubble in the deepest of your gut.

In other circumstances you'd be a flustered mess, flattered even to have such kind of man groveling over you. But this one in specific had you coiling away from his touch, hoping to vanish into thin air or turn invisible like Miles.

God, you really wanted to have Mile's invisibility powers right now, so at least you could have a chance to escape. But dreaming had gone out the window ever since he dumped you here.

He never lingered too much, even when he did routine checkups on you. Blood and other fluid samples were taken, he made sure you ate the bland and soggy looking food 'til nothing but crumbs were left, and then he'd leave to do whatever he did in the lab and wouldn't return until your next feeding time.

The only thing he had in common with your Miguel was the workaholic attitude. He'd spend hours if not days tinkering with canisters and things you low key feared to know their components. You've noticed the little parts of limbs floating in some recipients, none of them human.

What kind of things this Alchemax did? Cause the little you had seen so far wasn't nice nor pretty.

Alchemax took seriously their research, and with this man on charge, you didn't want to even think about what kind of ungodly horrors they harbored. There was a little slapping in the air as he removed his gloves, and it was your chance to crawl away.

Rough pads thrummed over your soft skin, sending shivers down your spine, breath hitched as he beckoned your forearm, the only part of you that budged, towards him in a demanding pull.

"Haven't had the time to properly examine these." he mumbled, more to himself than to you, as his thumbs squeezed soft circles, soothing the previous pressure's discomfort.

You gulped as he narrowed his eyes behind his glasses at the tiny circular slits indented in your wrist, a pale pinkish hue rimmed the tiny hole. The way he admired and looked with child-like wonder at your web shooters was overwhelming.

Cheeks grew warmer as the tip of his nose ran up your forearm to finally stop on the shooters. A soft salty musk emanated from them.

"Organic webbing... Fascinating." He crooned.

He closed his eyes to relish in the smell of your skin. A shaky breath came off your lips as his moist tongue rubbed a kitten lick on it, a bolt of electricity flooded your senses and earned him a whimper. Eyes immediately shifted on you, pupils widening.

Much to your dismay both had accidentally unveiled a borderline gruesome breakthrough. The twinkle in his eyes made your brows twitch in worry. Your neck gulped and his eyes caught the fraction of movement to then smirk.

Pearly whites shone with twisted pride upon the discovery.

"W-Wait-"

The tip of his tongue pressed harder on the slit and you couldn't help but moan. A lovely and surprising melody to his keen ears at your reactions.

Web shooters were a sensitive and therefore an erogenous area.

You tried yanking your arm away, but your knees trembled when he delivered a wriggle of the tip of his tongue, trying to worm into your veins, prodding and tasting unabashedly at your dint.

With every coil of his moist muscle your brain sparked alive, neurotransmitters soaring in wicked delight. Your teeth clamped on your lower lip, stifling another upcoming moan.

The wet sounds and pops of his mouth made your insides clench involuntarily. Legs smothered together, as he now sucked. His lips pursed in that familiar shape it reminded you the way he ate your engorged and sensitive nub.

Head split in two, fighting over what side of reasoning you'd agree with. One side was ashamed such ministrations from your wretched captor turned your unwilling body like puty within seconds in his dexterous hands, and with this newfound information, his power over you just increased tenfold.

Or aghast for allowing such thing, for allowing him to cage you against the bed and his formidable frame while he devoured and toyed with your wrists, and for him to make you feel revered like no man ever had, even if it was for the wrongest of reasons. Brown eyes stared at your countenance with such curiosity and enthrall, as if you were everything he needed. Like his prayers had been answered and delivered in silver platter with you on it, right in his hands.

It didn't help your shaky resolution he squeezed and draped his other thumb in your other slit. Rubbing in lazy circles, pressing the right amount to have your clit throbbing and your mouth panting. The vibrations of his low groan on your skin sent your brain in tiny shortcuts, your synapses were howling.

A shiny streak of his saliva connected with the left wrist. The irisdiscent shine of your webs connected to his bottom lip.

"Tad salty" His tongue licked the web away, His thumb moved in a back and fro motion, alternating between circles and soft licks from his thumb pad.

"Hnng-" Your toes curled in, as your hips stuttered but he grounded his even more on yours, preventing you from shifting too much.

"Stop squirming" He huffed, annoyed, trying to focus his sight on the tiny crevice.

"F-Fucking stop then" you panted in angry breaths

Michael smirked, genuinely amused at your unexpected reaction.

"Why would I? This is the most exciting part of the research."

Shit.

He took your other wrist and kissed the dent, your eyes went shut as he pressed both wrist above your head. Thumbs kneading with a bit more of pressure right above your tiny holes. And God, it was embarrassing hearing yourself mewl like a needy bitch.

How couldn't you notice such thing about yourself after so many years of being a Spiderwoman?

Fuck

And why the fuck were you about to cum while having your wrists stimulated? But more importantly, was he really having a boner by toying with you?

"God, you're a pervert..."

You couldn't help but mumble and he pressed tighter on purpose, sending a muffled whimper through your throat, silencing your yapping.

"I rather the term, Man of science, pequeña. Now stay fucking still."

But you couldn't, not when he kneaded so closely to a spot that send your mouth gaping like a fish out of water, begging to be thrown back in the liquid oxygen. He pressed two inches away from the bitty hole, and that was it.

Jaw clenched and your spine arched. His brow quirked with clinical curiosity at your thrashing despair. Breaths paused and shallow, still deciding whether to moan or sob.

"Nmh-Fuck, fuck, oh my god-" Your eyes rolled back, and your insides clamped. Brain vaporising any coherent thought, mouth too busy catching air and sputtering dumb babble at the consuming climax. Contracting and pulsing at nothing as the little dent squirted a silky and sticky rope towards the wall with a soft Thwipsh. He blinked nearly stupidly at what he had just achieved, cracking his apathetic stare for good.

"Dios mío..." He pressed again and again and you sobbed as the web spurted hapzardly, diverting in every direction and etching to whatever surface it touched or landed. He stared with wide eyes between you and the webs. Limp limb suspended in the air.

Toes curled and clenched at the bedsheets, attempting to anchor yourself at the overwhelming sensations that clouded your judgement. Head spun and buzzed with the thrill not even you achieved when handling those annoying reminders of your solitude in your own hands.

For once your spider senses tingled deliciously. His cock twitched almost painfully at what he just witnessed, he groaned and cupped your face to deliver a deep and breathtaking kiss.

"I knew someday, all my work would be rewarded. All those sleepless nights, those sacrifices, would bring someone like you to me."

He panted, examining you with wicked excitement, shaking you softly in his aroused wake.

"You and I, will create something so beautiful even God will be jealous!."

If it wasn't for the ominous meaning behind those words, you'd be amazed and moved at his overboard thrill. He rested his head on your lower belly, a dark grin plastered over his face, fingers padded your skin, warmth spreading through his hand.

Where are you, Miguel?

"I can't wait to see you swollen, carrying the future of this earth, pequeña."

I'm scared

But as quickly as he laid down, he bolted out of your cell, too enraptured in his musings to actually care for your rattled state.

Now that his motives were clear, your need to escape was greater. But maybe if you played your cards well, you'd have a chance.

I need you.

----

The table landed on the wall, shattering in smaller shards that splintered all over the place. Michael's back rose and tensed so tight, his lab robe wrinkled, trapping the fabric in between his muscles.

The corner of his lip twitched, almost like a tick, teeth menaced with baring, fury boiling underneath his skin. If he could, the steam would blow off his ears, but instead he prowled over your unsuspecting and sleeping form in the very back of the lab. Mind assaulting his reasoning with so many questions, but one in particular made his hands to clench into tight fist.

Why weren't you pregnant?

He had came inside in your most dangerous and fertile days, and still, you weren't pregnant.

As much as he was a patient man, he was throughly disappointed at his own failure. Was his seed defective? No.

He had run studies on himself and his results were everything a desperate man in need of children could ask for.

Fertile, fruitful, healthy.

And still, the screen shone brighter on the 'Negative' results.

Hot and furious breath fanned over the glass wall where he saw you sleeping. He'd have to run even more tests on you, start all over and wait for another two weeks.

But what if your body refused him again? Your womb's rejection was an open slap on his face, when he had been nothing but kind to you. He had been taking care of you with the best things, and this is how you repaid him.

It frustrated him beyond reason. But he was a patient man. Weeks were nothing compared to all the time he had already waited. With a final huff, he returned to his lab to correct your stupid hormonal imbalance that was costing him his valuable time and resources.

However, a Public Eye officer barged in, breath in his throat. His personal hounds, and whenever they came in, it only meant one thing. They had found something, and by the scratches and claw like marks on the officer's bleeding shoulder, meant it was something good.

You had to wait for a moment longer.

-----

"Lyla"

Miguel's gruff whisper came behind the corner of the structure he was in. Lyla appeared right on his shoulder.

"Any readings?"

"Some-" She froze for a second, "Ssft-"

Her yellow shade glitched to then appear right before him, she was speaking, but Miguel could barely understand her.

Fuck.

The place's interference was messing up with her programming. His gizmo popped with a message, your location. Beeping in a bright yellow dot within the ever tall and imposing Alchemax building in the middle of the city, like a watchtower.

Your last signal. Earth S-2015.

If you were here, he was sure you'd quip up something about a movie reference, something about a Mordor, whatever the thing meant, to lighten up the mood. He'd never admit it, but it always made him a bit curious as to what you watched or did to entertain yourself. The things you spoke were beyond absurd and still, he listened, inwardly pondering as to what kind of substances your universe used to get that sort of inspiration, but now there was nothing but silence at his side. And he grew tired of it.

No matter how much he had tried to recover or track you, the signal vanished into thin air. And he wasn't happy. At first he thought the gizmo's self restart feature would bring the signal back, but days kept passing, and nothing happened, he even went to the extent of rewiring the trinket's code to see if there was anything between lines, but there was nothing after the current location he was in.

Miguel swung through the buildings, avoiding the constant and alert drones soaring through the sky. Alchemax safety propaganda was plastered all over the place, but this earth's inhabitants looked everything but happy. Unlike his wonderful and manageable utopia he had helped to improve.

Fear was forever etched in their faces, constantly moving, never lingering too much around those mean looking officers. The Public Eye.

Their image all over the city, with low key subduing messages as 'Keep The order', 'Report any anomaly in the nearest station.' It set perfectly with the gloomy, authoritarian and heavy atmosphere of this universe. Chaos brewing in the darkness, awaiting to be unleashed.

His gut felt queasy. He might not have spider senses, but intuition never failed him. And right now it was telling him to find you and get the fuck out as soon as possible. Precisely in that order. He didn't want to pull out a Miles, even if he wanted to on this wretched world. Frustrating as it was, Earth S-2015 was a necessary evil, like his ruler and his major minion.

Not that you were incapable of fending for yourself, one of the main reasons he didn't act right away, but knowing who was in this place, and the possibilities, made his chest constrict with a new wave of underlying anxiety and dread as there was no Spider in this earth to protect it.

His watch buzzed a bit too late with a new message from Lyla.

RUN!!!!

A hoard of drones shoot his way, creating a sequential line of explosions, he dodged, tore, and crashed the drones against eachother, as if they were bugs pestering him.

"Look! Another one!"

Some officers didn't wait to appear and shoot their best shots at him. They fired and Miguel fought back, talons in hands, ripping and tearing flesh.

They had taken you, and a cold sweat ran down his spine.

Mierda...

He took one officer by his neck, masked face came into view as his teeth bared.

"The other one, where is she?!" he seethed but the man was stupid enough to oppose. He thrashed, which only added gasoline to Miguel's already blazing fury. Talons dug in the man's tender flesh, but even so, the officer had managed to impale a needle on his arm. It's liquid immediately melting into Miguel's muscles.

It stung.

With a hiss, Miguel let the man go, too focused on the sudden burning sensation spreading through his arm and body like a wildfire. Breathings took a couple of seconds to turn erratic, lights flickered and dances before his eyes.

Concéntrate, mierda! (Fucking focus)

The remaining officers jumped on him, using their subduing tools on him, an electrical shock here and there, a couple of stabs that had him kneeling, punches that definitely got all air out of his scorching lungs. It hurted to breath, to move, to see. His photophobia was rampant as lights were suddenly on him.

Miguel tried to cover his eyes but punches kept coming, he lunged and swung back to nothing but air, as his faculties were in a painful sensorial overload. The last thing he could manage in between blurry and prancing lights was the officer's wicked smile, stretching. Darkness claimed him.

----

"Me estás hartando, quédate quieta de una vez!" (I'm getting tired of this, stay still!)

The lack of exercising had made you slow, he didn't give you enough time to fight back when dragging you by the ankles while you were in the best of your nap. The alerts in your body kicked a bit too late, and like he had done before, his hips grounded yours, suffocating their squirming as his hand squeezed the wrists, needle menacing on his other hand, a pinkish liquid shook within.

"Fuck you!"

With a low growl he smashed your hands against the mattress, earning him a painful yelp, and it was his chance to sink the needle on your neck, a sting that immediately stifled your body, a brief itch spreaded through before turning into a cool shot of drug.

"Don't worry... We'll get to it later. But I need your body cooperating first."

You tried batting his hands away, but he held your face, and you gulped. He was staring.

Michael Stone was staring at you.

Thrill, joy, and something eldritch within his beautiful eyes. It scared as it intrigued you.

"What did you just put in me!?"

His nose nuzzled on the crook of your neck and crooned, "Nothing you should worry about, pequeña. Just a little enhance that will take my investigation to the next level."

His nose revelled up to your neck, body shuddering with the soft kisses left imprinted on your skin. It confused you.

One moment he treated you like the best thing he had ever had, and the next he manhandled you like a rag doll, pumping whatever substances he thought right into your bloodstream.

"Ger'off me!" A backlash and he chuckled.

"You're amusing. Might keep you as a pet once my child is born." He frowned suddenly, like if an idea had came into mind, pondering.

"Or not, I could grow it on my own... But, no no. It wouldn't be the same, wouldn't it?." His peering landed on your abdomen, ready to see it plump. "Call. me traditionalist in that way, but there is nothing more beautiful than seeing life growing within a perfect specimen." His eyes twinkled.

"You're a sick fuck, you know that?"

"You loved having this sick fuck inside, pequeña. Your mouth might be spilling nonsense, but your cunt" He cupped it suddenly, shutting you up right away, "neither data lies."

A thick lump was swallowed down your throat.

"Rest well, I've got a surprise for you."

The smirk on his lips was everything but a good omen. And the heat increasing on your body didn't help. Hormones were slowly coming to a riot, spider tingle ringing harder for a moment.

Great.

Fingers rubbed on where he sunk the needle, wishing that for once he wouldn't use the thick ones. A tiny red smudge came into the pad of your fingertip.

Asshole.

----

Disgust, curiosity and repulsion.

Those were the main reads on Miguel's bruised face when Michael was before him, having a taste of his lips, but quickly backed up upon feeling the prong of his fangs grazing at his tongue. Miguel spat away his taste.

"Vete a la mierda, cabrón!" (Fuck you, asshole)

"Oh" His smirk went wider, almost wicked. He wasted no time in securing his grip on Miguel's chin to probe and poke at his mouth, revelling at every single thing within his structure.

"This is... perfect! With you and my vessel, we'll create-"

Michael jumped backwards as Miguel tried to lunge for him, but to no avail, chains clinked on his feet and wrists, restraining him.

"Now, now. What happened to that... friendly neighborhood thing your species used to preach? Is it a ruse?"

Miguel's fury burned brighter than the sun, he was ablaze, the Ethyl Chloride still railed within his bloodstream. He'd have to wait a bit more, just a bit for it's effects to leave his system and he'd free himself.

Never in his life had the urge of hurting someone came so strong on him, but he needed to be as collected as possible if he wanted to find you.

Even if his evil twin's hand roamed over his chest, measuring and probing his physiology. What's with everyone trying to get a piece of him?

His sight landed on something that undeniably belonged to you, a piece of your suit, under a microscope. Michael followed Miguel's line of sight and smiled, naturally, proud even.

"She's been a good specimen. The best one I've got so far."

A cold shudder ran down Miguel's back, eyes immediately on him, venom dripping in his words as they came out in a growl

"What have you done?"

Michael shrugged nonchalant, pride swelling up his chest. "Nothing but my work, Mr. O'Hara. And now that I've got you, you'll help me too."

"Te juro que si has hecho algo para lastimarla-" (I swear if you've done something to hurt her)

"Oh no, no. Im not that kind of monster." Michael tinkered with some tubes as he pulled a couple strands off Miguel's head. The Boss shook his head away from his tweezers.

"But she can get annoying sometimes. Nothing that pleasure helps to shut her up"

Miguel's eyes went wide, horror and anger in tandem within his crimson gaze.

His talons poked out, itching to tear the man before him, until he was nothing but bloody chum, fuck the canon, fuck this dimension. He'd do everyone a favor, unlike the first time he broke the rules.

"But dread not. Tonight is very special" Michael smiled at Miguel, but it didn't reached his eyes. The same pink liquid he injected on you was now flowing in Miguel's veins, thanks to thw needles in his shackles.

"Mating season is around the corner , isn't it?"

Miguel scowled, wary as Michael made his arms and legs restricted to the metallic wall of his confinement, hitting his head in the process. A wave of pain invaded Miguel's skull.

"I won't hurt her, no. But I won't allow you to take her away from me."

Michael pressed a button, sending shockwaves through Miguel's body, suit glitching out, until it disappeared, leaving a bare, righteous doppelganger of himself at his feet, panting, gritting his teeth and growling in pain.

Michael leered at Miguel unabashedly, smoke oozed from his shimmery tan skin, and the madman nodded, pleased.

"You spider-folk are unique and wonderful creatures indeed."

It was the last thing Miguel heard before another electrical and unexpected shock subdued him to darkness.

----

Miguel

His mind was a puddle. Nothing coherent could properly take shape in his brain. His body was heavy, doused in a borderline painful heat, the same sort of feeling he'd get once his body entered this spider-like urge to mate.

Miguel!

The voice calling him was familiar, but it's tinge sent a delicious pulsation right to the tip of his already twitching cock.

Wake up!

Leaden-lids parted enough to take in his surroundings again, consciousness returning to his empty body. But as it did, the strong tidal waves of his arousal drowned him in.

It didn't help he kept hearing these delicious mewls and pants, begging for him to do something simple as to wake up. The constant slaps of flesh and the breathless moans made a trail of precum escape his flushed and sensitive tip. Thick veins decored his pulsating girth, aching painfully to sink in something. To be wrapped in nothing but snug zeal.

"F-Fuck... Wake up, please!"

Another garbled moan that ended in an acute whimper. And that made him growl. His toes curled in, bleary sight finally taking focus on what was going on.

He could only blink at the scene. Stupid and high in need. Dying to be free and unleash himself.

"Ohmygod-" you hiccuped, watching him, flushed cheeks, mouth gaping and panting, exhaling deep and sweet mewls his body yearned to induce

"Miguel!"

You called, waking him up despite your insides getting a good rearrangement by Michael. The latter was too keen in watching his reaction as he smacked himself against you, his cheeks reddened in want.

You were spreaded like a book ontop of the sitting madman, back colliding with his bare chest, hands cuffed within two metallic hoops, hooked behind Michael's head; cunt swallowing him inside, choking with his continuous thrustings, slapping the back of your ass over and over as his hands kept your thighs apart and close to your chest, providing Miguel with a 4K image of your bullied and glistening pussy.

The way Michael pushed in so swiftly made Miguel's cock to erupt with another pre cum bead. Your breast swayed and bounced at the rough pace settled underneath. A rhythmic slap, like a perfect metronome for an obscene and wet melody.

The little rational part of Miguel told him, demanded him to look away. To spare you some shame, but his body had been rewired in such way he was unable to tear his oggling away, cause he could feel the need to break the chains and do a better job than Michael. He'd destroy you. He needed to.

Michael's hands made you hold the back of your own thighs, so he could plow deeper. And your spine arched as your toes curled, legs shook and a sweet acute cry echoed through the lab, announcing your first orgasm.

Miguel's sore cock twitched. Begging him to jump into action. His mouth watered as your pussy swallowed Michael's cock so deep and tight that a frothy, creamy ring nested at the base of his tightened balls, contracting as the madman came inside your snug hole.

Your arousal awakened a primal need in him, to the point that his talons dug in the fat of his palm, cutting skin and bleeding, like his bottom lip. Plump mouth heaved, his throat rumbled with gutural growls the more he stared, hypnotized at your post-bliss face.

Miguel whimpered, like a kicked dog, a deep flush invading his heaving countenance.

"Seems the serum is also making effect"

Michael slicked his hair back and gave an excited sigh, "I think it's time to see his performance, right?"

Michael pushed you away from his body, Bambi-like legs failed their attempt to hold your whole frame. You fell on the ground with a wheeze. Miguel immediately lunged, but his restrains held him back, prevented him from achieving his main goal.

Crimson eyes turned darker, nearly matching Michael's. The latter pressed a button and the collar on Miguel fell with a clank on the floor.

"M-Miguel" it was difficult to find your voice when it was scrapped raw and dry, but still, you had to try.

"We... we gotta leave. Do you hear me?"

Of course he did, but his mating cycle was on peak, thanks to Michael. He had messed up the natural process by accelerating his heat prematurely.

Why would he leave when he was about to wreck you?

His feet were unlocked. You gave Michael a pleading look while trying to crawl away. When the last lock clicked free, your breath hitched.

It felt like a slow motion as you looked over your shoulders, marked with hickeys Michael left. Pupils wide blown as Miguel lurched forward, stalking and hovering over you. Cock smearing his pre cum in whatever skin it landed, marking you with his scent as he manhandled your hips up, aligning them with his girth.

His hand was big enough to keep your whole head on the floor. Michael cackled as Miguel sunk in deep in a powerful roll of his hips, earning a stuttering grunt through clenched teeth from you.

The fat of your ass trembled, your clasped hands curled underneath your torso, in dire need of holding onto something, cause Miguel merciless plows were fucking any coherent thought.

Your whole body shook underneath him, cunt ever tight, your juices and Michael's cum made him easier to delve in a pace you knew would scrap your knees, cause he wasn't stopping nor waning.

Michael circled you both, hand on his cock, stroking himself at the sheer display of primal desire. The whole show made him hard, specially when seeing your engorged clit peeking underneath Miguel's jackhammering frame, flushed from the unceasing beating the hero's balls provided it.

"Just like that" Michael husked, and whimpered as you did nothing but sputter nonsensical and lewd blabbering.

Miguel's fingertips sunk tighter as they grope your hips firmly to keep you from lurching forward, despite him plunging into you with abandonment, as if with every thrust he'd say take it.

Take it for disobeying.

Your toes curled in and your jaw slacked open, unable to keep it together.

Take it for not following instructions.

"M... Mig-"

Bendito... He was just starting and you were already clamping onto him in a grip so tight it only matched the way he was holding your beautiful and generous hips.

"You're almost there, Mr. O'Hara! Keep it going!"

One specific thrust had your eyes watering and rolling back. A pathetic and incomplete scream made Michael to kneel behind you both. His eyes were too dazed in how Miguel fucked you. Dancing up and down, like the strokes of his hands on his cock.

Miguel secured your head in a tight headlock that cut your air supply enough to clench on him, again. Strong biceps trapped your airy head, clouded with a biting desire that came stronger every time you breathed.

Michael groaned when Miguel pulled a last thrust, sheathing to the hilt, forcing a powerful and milky kiss on your cervix. The madman's mouth wasted no time to sink in between Miguel's firm glutes, tasting him, squeezing and pushing him towards his face, tongue fucking the tight hole, earning a low but stuttering growl from a surprised Miguel. Glasses fogging at the rising temperature.

"Fucking delicious." He mumbled with a smack of his lips to focus his attention in your flushed and sensitive cunt. When Miguel pulled out, Michael was already pushing him away, to then prowl at your throbbing cunt, gathering the leaking cum on his tongue, revelling in the taste as he pushed it back inside with a soft dribble.

"W-Wait" You hissed, his moist muscle had been wonderful once, but right now it felt rough. Flesh too sensitive to the touch.

Miguel staggered, body overridden with a relentless urge to be inside you again, but his body screamed for a rest, the venom still lingered on his muscles. Michael on the other hand, cradled and sunk you once more ontop of him.

"The more you take, the more chances you'll get pregnant are." He explained underneath you. Tears rolled down your flustered cheeks, overstimulated and pearled, glowy skin by the thin layer of sweat etched in every slope and dint in your body.

Michael licked them with a groan while his hips smacked yours in a slow but deep, deep rut, pulling the last coherent thoughts through muffled groans and hiccuping mewls, while you shook your head vehemently.

"You're so perfect, pequeña"

"T-Too much" you croaked

Michael sunk you in a swift move, as his slapping hips met yours upwards, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

"No, no. you can. You're strong, bonita. You can take me." His crooning was eerie, yet so alluring it blurred the line between monster and devotee.

Pleasure clung to your brain with such force it was dizzying. Every pore of your body oozed with the pheromones the serum produced, creating a tantalizing smell that lured Michael and Miguel's attention.

The grumpy hero could only watch you squirm as another cock that wasn't his, wrecked your insides in a tortuous pace.

"Fuck" He grunted, feeling the consuming and mind numbing drug licking at every inch of his cinnamon skin, imploring to feel you again.

Even though the Ethyl Chloride's effect had been long gone, the serum reacted to your pheromones. Meaning he'd need to provoke one more peak to have the effects completely worn out.

He'd feel sorry and awful all he wanted later, his priority was to get you out of this madman's claws. But...

It was impossible not to think in how good you felt, how delicious your whole body contorted while witnessing the way Michael subdued you to ride him as he captured one of your nipples in his urgent mouth. Lovely and plump bumps of flesh jiggled at the tempo, outer folds that without a doubt would be so sensitive to the touch, parted and guzzled Michael's veiny cock.

Miguel crawled to you both.

How well you had taken them each., Adjusting perfectly at their sizes, like a perfect flesh sleeve.

He hovered over the both and smoothed away the strands of hair that stuck on your flushed and gorgeously fucked out face.

The heat was consuming, and Michael's pace wasn't enough. The madman noted you were reaching the peak of the serum functionality as you urged your wobbly hips clumsily on his.

Despite you not being able to properly verbalise your pleasure, you still sought it. Michael's wicked fantasies came true when Miguel pushed you tighter against him, as if wanting to flush your body and Michael's as one being, just to have a proper glimpse of the sight that had him guiding his tip towards your already stuffed entrance.

Detente (Stop)

But he couldn't, he couldn't stop himself from entering you, knees flexing as he lowered his pelvis, pushing inch my inch deeper. Earning an ascending pleasurable wail from you.

Your eyes widened and your jaw clenched, baring your teeth as he also sheathed inside, womb so full it bulged.

Michael's laugh echoed through the room. Everything had came as planned.

"Let's make you a wonderful mother, mi pequeña."

Oh my god.

A panting groan escaped as Michael moved in first, igniting the painfully delicious friction inside you. He wasn't only stimulating you, but Miguel as well. The snug crevice too tight for them to coexist in peace, yet there they were, fighting over who pulled the last peak and thread of rationality out of you.

Their cocks pumping and prodding had your spine arching. Miguel grabbed a fistful of your front strands and pulled backwards, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, letting your chest exposed to Michael. He wasted no time into pushing both of your breasts together, tongue alternating between the left and right.

Sucking, lapping, wriggling his hot muscle on your taut peaks, making a mess out of them by creating more hickeys in every inch of salty tasting visible skin.

"Michael!" You whimpered and it was enough for Miguel to plow harder. The sinful makeout session of their cocks inside your walls made you pant, beg and laugh like a total loon.

A streak of saliva escaped the corner of your gaping mouth. Head lolled back and fro, fried brain with the lust both men induced you, floating on cloud nine. You didn't want to come down to earth, much less when Miguel and Michael's groans and moans over you, urged you to be the best cum dumpster ever.

Miguel pulled your handcuffed hands underneath your chin, beckoning your lips to his. His mouth suffocated any future moan as you bounced on both.

Your one and only boss didn't need you wailing his name to know you ached for him. But Michael was set into having a proper taste out of you both.

He pulled you closer, pushing deeper inside you. Michael's lips erased all trace of Miguel's on yours, to then kiss Miguel. To his surprise, Miguel didn't oppose, too gone in the sensations this mass of tangled limbs offered.

Michael hands roamed your body and Miguel's, feeling his own climax approach.

Hearing Miguel's animalistic growls on your ear, made your clit throb. He pounded with every fiber of his body, urging you to reach the stars and play with them.

Your cunt soaked them, too wrecked and ruined to care. Like your mind. It didn't matter who fucked better, all your body asked was fresh cum, deep in your womb.

The serum coaxed you to move faster, almost matching the rhythm of their whomps. The sound of your greedy and drooling hole being battered was music to their ears.

Michael whimpered and his spine arched, finally reaching his peak, spurting his hot sticky scent inside. Miguel hissed and held Michael close, watching him.

Limbs nearly cramped as they curled in, hands fisted tightly on each side of his trembling body, eyes rolled back, mouth panting, head too heavy to think straight. And that's when Miguel sunk his fangs on his neck, injecting his paralyzing venom on his bloodstream.

A pornographic and slurred moan erupted from Michael, his wicked smirk widened as his body slowly but surely, lost all control of his nerves, unable to command them to move.

Miguel had to resist the urge to come inside. He knew he had a couple of minutes before Michael regained mobility, and as heavenly as you felt, he pulled out of you, drowning his orgasm with regained self control, earning a small hissing as he pulled you out too, gently, off Michael.

Legs and body refused to cooperate. With clumsy steps he stood, taunting the surfaces for support. He slanted against the table, gasping for air.

Miguel shook his head and threw a quick look to Michael, still on the floor, but now groaning in discomfort. Even his tongue had numbed out.

Miguel didn't waste time and sauntered over the next table where pieces of his gizmo laid neatly arranged in a metallic tray. He swept them all in a container, along the tubes filled with his samples.

Like Hobie, he took other parts of machinery in a quickened pace to finally grab a couple of lab robes. He wore one and covered your overworked body, to then throw you above his shoulder.

"Nos vamos." (We're leaving)

Michael groaned, loudly. Anger was felt in every gurgle his throat did. Despair widened in the only thing that still remained movable in his numb face. They darted between you and Miguel, begging him to leave you there.

He groaned again, losing sight once Miguel swung with you from a window.

"Hold on tight if you can" Miguel's voice cooed as you two escaped.

-----

Michael had to douse some pain killer spray on the two slits done in his neck.

How could he not forsee this? How could he miss something so obvious that ended up messing his one decade old plan?

He let his emotion get the best out of him, fouling up his usual calculating judgment, replacing it with excitement.

A Public Eye squad remained before him, awaiting for his orders.

"Find them. I need the woman alive, understood?"

"What about the... other one? The monster?" The same officer Miguel had sliced through and marked, spoke.

The lights in the screen gave Michael a sinister red hue on his face, light reflecting on his glasses.

"He's not a monster, Johnson." Dr. Stone smirked, copying your information in his database, "There can't be two of us."

Johnson, the captain, nodded. The squad obeyed, and the hunt was on.

Taglist: (I apologize if your blog isn't able to be tagged, tumblr is... tumblr)

@smokeywhalee @maomaimao @beingdeluluisthesolulu @byjessicalotufo @darkfairy102190 @angel-of-the-moons @bunnibitez @decaffeinatedplaidwinnersoul

@thealleydog @sariespi @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @barryatsumu @missylo @fistsuptitsup @lazy-idate @crimsonriot06-7 @uraritychain @little-lovelace @llama--drama @deathlypickles @cupidojenphrodite @@nostalgicdaira @homewreckingwreck @millliko @tatatida @melday0105 @scaryplanetdestroyer @minispidey @miranexx @migueloharacumslut @keepghostly @ion-news @misswonderfrojustice @kishimiest @prctty-birdie @migueloharacumslut @the-true-tato-god @1biggestsimpofalltime @catfwngz @drefear

#t writes✨#Michael Stone #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel spiderman

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randoimago · 9 months

Note

Hi there! Could you please do headcanons on Astarion, Karlach, Will and Hanson with a significant other who tries to hide their accent, but it slips through every once in a while? Thank you!!

Hearing Their S/O's Accent That's Kept Secret

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Character(s): Astarion, Karlack, Halsin, Wyll

Type of Request: Headcanons

Note(s): I'm assuming autocorrect got you with Wyll and Halsin (I was so confused as to who Hanson is in BG3 before my Int check succeeded and I realized who you meant)

Astarion

Kind of side eyes you a bit when he hears your little slip up. It definitely makes him curious. At first, he thought that maybe your mouth was running faster than your brain and that was why you said something a bit differently.

Except the more he listened, the more he could hear the subtle differences in your pronunciation, and it just causes a smug, knowing smile to cross his face. Doesn't bring it up right away since you all have your secrets.

You can bet that if he hears you scolding him or something because he teased or mentioned killing someone, then he'll gladly bring up your accent. He does a ridiculous mimicry of it and waits to see how you react to the fact he figured out the obvious secret you were trying to keep.

Astarion doesn't really care too much about your accent. It was fun for a bit trying to figure it out, but now he just wants to hear you talk to him in your normal voice. Let him hear all the different twangs or different phrases you use cause of the dialect. He won't tease you about it, much.

Halsin

Smiles a tad when he hears you pronounce something just a bit off. He can't help but step in and correct you, or at least say it the way that this region says it.

Rather it embarrasses you or not, Halsin does apologize for the correction, but he figured it'd be good to know how it's pronounced by others just so you know why everyone else is speaking silly.

He's also one that would like to hear you talk in your true tone but understands if you're hiding it for one reason or another. Just know that whenever you're comfortable to speak, that he'll always be happy to listen.

And if you'd like to hear how something is supposed to be pronounced (or typically pronounced in the region) then he'll tell you and smile a bit if you go on a tangent about why it's pronounced a certain way that makes no sense to you.

Karlach

She noticed something was a tad off with how you spoke and she'll pull you aside and ask about it. If you do tell her about your hidden accent, then she gets so excited because she knew your pronunciation was a bit different.

Finds it a tad silly to keep your accent secretive. I mean, you travel with her and she's loud and proud about the way she talks. And you also know Astarion, someone that speaks much differently from her. And then there's Lae'zel... Don't even get her started on Withers!

I mean, look, she gets being self-conscious and having those bad thoughts about yourself, she gets them a lot with how her heart is. But with the group of weirdos that you all are, she hopes that you can learn to be proud of how you speak and where you came from.

So, until you're proud to speak with your normal voice, she's going to be like a little kid and ask you how you pronounce different things. You can bet that she wants to hear you mimicking her voice in your cute accent. Doesn't even care the context or how you say it, she wants to hear you attempt to mimic her voice.

Wyll

He's pretty well traveled so when he hears your little slip up, he knows that it's less of a stumbling of words and more that it is a dialect. He does try to piece where it's from, but it'll take him a few more times of hearing your accent slip out.

When he does piece it together, he gets pretty excited and will approach you in camp about it. He just asks if you're from that specific area and that's the cause of the accent or because you had a parent that spoke that way. Either way, he's curious and wants to hear more of it.

Wyll has hid his birthright from many people, so he understands if you wanted to hide your accent for similar reasons. Or if it was just being embarrassed of how you talk. Either way, he won't pressure or force you to speak if it bothers you.

Does try to keep an ear out for more of your slip ups. Even if you're embarrassed about them, he enjoys getting the few glimpses of your accent as he can. Wyll is also always happy to hand out compliments to you with how your voice is a perfect melody to him.

#baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #astarion x reader #halsin x reader #karlach x reader #wyll x reader

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j0kers-light · 11 months

Note

Joker, but with a virgin reader who barely understands sex stuff cuz they grew up overly sheltered and innocent, so he essentially has to teach them through it and introduce some kinky stuff to them

His Lighthouse: Sweet Girl (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Sweet Girl - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A STORY UPDATE!

Author’s note:

Hey hi anon!! I am so sorry it took me an entire week to fill this request! I got carried away and went down a perfectionist spiral trying to envision Joker in this situation. It was difficult to keep him in character but still caring enough for Y/n who is virtually clueless! I hope you enjoy the story!

You can find part two here!!

taglist:

@blackreaderatrisk @twinkledinkle @clemdango04 @l3ejm @tears-of-amber @what-an-angel @darthjokerisyourfather @thatsnoteii @dollster @cheetahspy @kaidennnnn @urdariingdoll @motivation-idontknowher

Let me know if you want to be added to the His Lighthouse taglist!

You are truly his sweet girl in every definition of the word.

Joker's sweet little doll he so desperately wants to defile. He greatly admires your innocence and the way you view the world. Joker wants nothing more than to continue sheltering you, but he's at his wit's end holding back his passion.

Everyday his patience wanes and it's only a matter of time before he pounces on his prey. You.

He wants to sink his teeth into your skin and hear you cry out in pleasure with every snap of his hips. He wants to see your brain turn off from an overload of pleasure. It's not a want anymore but a need. He needs to break you.

He can't wait anymore and judging by your coy smiles and teasing touches, he knows you want this too.

Although Joker should've known something was wrong since things between you and him never advanced any further than kissing. You would shy away the minute he grabbed your hips or tried to remove any article of clothing from you.

He should have noticed the telltale signs.

Months of hiding at your place in your pink little bubble, far far away from mean old Gotham City, and all that Joker had to show for as process with you was cuddling or making out.

Nothing more, nothing less. It was frustrating for sure.

Joker knew you were attracted to him; he saw it in the way your eyes widened and lingered on him.

You would bite your lip whenever he purposefully let his shirt ride up or whenever he picked you up to show off his strength. He even came out of the shower dripping wet without a towel once— you tucked tail and ran to your room.

Joker was using every trick in the book to get a reaction from you, however; you stayed demure and kept your hands to yourself. It was maddening!

Even at night when the two of you were preparing for bed, (separately, much to his irritation) he'd pull you close and rock his hips into yours.

"Wanna sleep with meee tonight, baby doll?" You would flush red and wiggle out of his arms before stampering out a million no's and vanish from sight.

Joker hated hearing your door slam close but what could he do? He was running out of options.

There were so many clues in front of him regarding this dilemma but the truth finally came to light one day he had you trapped underneath him on the bed.

No more running. No more excuses. He was claiming you tonight.

He was attacking your neck with kisses and actively grinding his hard on into your pretty shorts. The skimpy things you wore around the house tested his limited sanity! Were you trying to seduce him? Bravo, because you succeeded. And he was supposed to be impervious to your charms and be a gentleman. Screw that.

Your body was a prize to be had and Joker waited long enough to have it.

He had the helm of your shirt balled up to your abdomen when you froze. "W-Wait um Joker. I-I.."

"Shhhh little bunny.. I just wanna see ya."

You didn't like that and tried pushing Joker up and off. How did he get you on the bed in the first place you wondered?

Joker noticed your aversion to his touch and growled in annoyance. Every freaking time he tried to get closer with you; you pushed him away. He had enough. He no longer had any patience to deal with this anymore.

"What's the deal, hmm? You don't li-ke me anymore?"

Your eyes immediately locked with his. "N-No! I like you.. it's just..." You wavered.

"Just whaT? Hmm? Tell me bunny! Open that pretty... little mouth of yours and tell me."

You did the exact opposite. You bit your lip and looked away from Joker. Your selective shyness was rather annoying at this point and Joker let his frustrations be known.

"You're such a cocktease ya know that? Runnin' around in these shorts and things making those little... noises when ya think I don't notice. Yeah, I hear em doll. You're killing me but the second I touch ya, this happens!" Joker gestured at you cowering away from him.

"What are ya, some virgin or something?" He sighed to himself. But then he looked down at you in shock when he heard your soft yes.

Oh. He was a f___king idiot.

You were holding back tears and the second Joker realized his mistake and touched your arm, they burst to the surface.

"Ohhh.. Bunny noo. Look at me." You did and shined your e/c at him. "There she is.. my sweet girl. Why didn't you tell me?"

He lied back on the bed and dragged you with him to recline on his chest. You were perfectly fine cuddling with J. Anything else after that was scary.

He couldn't see your face since it was buried in his shirt so you answered him truthfully.

"I.. I thought you knew.." You mumbled. Joker smacked his lips and started stroking your hair. You left it down today and he loved its wild, untamed state.

He really didn't know and he felt stupid for not realizing it sooner and for making you feel uncomfortable around him. He worked so hard in the beginning to make you not fear him. He didn't exaggerate his words as much, he cut down on his fear tactics around you, virtually everything about himself was altered to gain your trust.

You were a timid little thing, eager to help him hide from the GCPD in exchange for nothing. You cooked, cleaned, kept him company (just not sexually) all with a smile on your face. You were so naïve yet brave, of course Joker fell for you!

You laughed at his silly jokes and that smile of yours was worth losing pieces of himself to appease you. He'd do anything to make you happy.

But Joker wanted more. He wanted to be selfish.

He wanted to corrupt your sweet and innocent demeanor and mold it to his will. He wanted those big doe eyes of yours to cloud over with lust and your full plump lips to stretch around his cock as he choked you with it.

He knew you'd be perfect underneath him; you were already such a sweet thing. A true people pleaser; doing any and everything to make his stay at your place more enjoyable.

What he would really enjoy is your pussy milking his cock for what it's worth.

It's all he thought about these days but you couldn't handle him removing your shirt, how in the world would he train you to be his cum-drunk bunny?

But Joker loved a challenge and you... you were worth the hassle.

"I never wanna scare my bunny away. She's so perfect, and oh so sweet. Too sweet.." He kissed you so softly, it made your head spin.

Joker pulled back before things started to get heavy, "But I realllly wanna taste ya more, Y/n. You trust me?"

You looked down and away until Joker chased after you. "No no nooo. None of that. Don't look away. I can teach you if you want."

"Teach me? But what if... What if I'm not good enough?" You whimpered.

That's what you were worried about? He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This was all in your head.

"Won't know until you try." He sang back. You seemed to understand that much and shifted your weight to straddle Joker more properly. He exhaled through his nose when you unknowingly rocked your hips into his dick.

"Okay. I think I wanna try now. Is that okay? C-Can we try right now, J?"

How could he say no to such a sweet request? You were so embarrassed yet enthusiastic about this, it made him go crazy. He kept his hands behind his head and sighed.

"Depends... How far ya wanna go?" He asked.

"What do you mean? How far with what?"

It took everything in Joker not to groan in frustration. Did your parents not teach you anything about sex? What kind of upbringing did you have to not know anything?

Joker wasn't sure if he could handle teaching you from scratch but everyone had to start somewhere.

"What do ya know about sex, Y/n?"

He watched you squirm and bite your lip. You had to know something to be interested and he would wait to see what he was working with before going further.

"Um.. the doctor at the clinic said it shouldn't h-hurt if my partner um.. p-preps me enough with foreplay. I think that means kissing and cuddling but once she brought out two dolls and started talking about positions I.. she lost me."

Joker was lost too. "Doctor?"

You nodded and wiggled your hips against him. You seriously had to stop doing that..

"I went to get checked after I saw you come out of the shower that day. I got really wet and uncomfortable um, d-down there, and nothing I did made the feeling go away. S-So I panicked and went to the clinic! It was super embarrassing but I think I understand the logistics of it all a little better. Joker? Are you okay?"

You poked his cheek since he looked spaced out and he had every right to be.

Horny. You were horny and didn't know why. Nothing you did made the feeling go away and he remembered back to that night when you trapped yourself in your room.

Just what all did you try? Did you get yourself off? How did you do it?

And then everything clicked. Your lingering eyes, the tiny shorts and flimsy tops. Those f__king thigh high socks... You started wearing them more and more frequently after his little shower stunt. Your body wanted him even if your brain didn't comprehend.

He was gonna have so much fun corrupting you.

In the blink of an eye, Joker had you flat on your back with your arms above your head. You were in shock, it happened so fast.

Joker let out a shaky exhale and looked you over.

"Next time you feel wet, come to me. I'll help.. relieve that pain, mkay? Do you feel wet now?" He asked as he grinded his knee into your sex. You jerked in his hold and winced.

"Um, a little.. that feels funny."

"Describe it to me." Joker purred into your ear. He trailed kisses down your neck to distract you from noticing he was lifting your top up.

Stupid thing wasn't covering anything, it was so thin.

"Ah! I-I feel warm and.. it aches.. but I don't know why. It's almost like there's an itch I need to scratch but I tried that!"

Joker had the brief image of your tiny hands poking and prodding your opening, trying desperately to soothe something only his cock could reach.

"Poor little bunny. Wanna know why it aches mmh?"

He heard you sigh out a yes. By then Joker was kissing your heaving chest and had an idea. Why remove your top the boring way? Nothing about tonight would be normal.

You gasped as Joker tore your top right off your body. Your breasts bounced from the action and Joker groaned seeing them already erect sans a bra. Just the perfect size for him to squeeze and worship. He was drooling already.

He locked eyes with you with a wolfish smile. "Cuz your greedy little pussy wants my cock.

"Y-Your cock?"

Joker groaned and leaned down to suck a nipple into his mouth while his hand got well acquainted with the other. It was so soft and tasted even better, but hearing your surprised moans was the topping on the cake.

You didn't know your breasts could feel so good but Joker's tongue swirling around the bud before his teeth bit it gently, was electrifying. It made the unknown feeling return tenfold.

"J-Joker! It's back! I feel weird again.."

Joker let your nipple go with a loud pop and gave the same attention to its twin but not without subtly rocking his hips into yours. Your wail was torturous.

"No! T-That's not it!" You sobbed even though your hips bucked up to meet Joker's. Something about the motion felt right, but it was missing a key element. Then you remembered Joker's comment.

"Can your umm.. cock fix it?"Joker groaned in pain. You would be the death of him. As if hearing you speak about it, his dick throbbed in his pants.

He looked up at your adorable pout and smiled. "Already using such ahh, vulgar language, baby doll. Goood girl. I knew your mouth was dirty."

He kissed down your stomach until he reached the band of your shorts. You braced your weight on your elbows to watch him. How was your mouth dirty? Did you say something bad?

Never mind that, Joker was finally addressing the problem dead on. "Are you gonna fix it, J?"

He looked up at you, a bit out of breath.

"I will bunny, just not yeT. The doc said I gotta prep you, remember? Don't wanna hurt my sweet girl now do I? Gotta hmm.. tr-eat her right.. Can I take these off?"

He asked so nicely, you couldn't say no. Anything to make this weird feeling go away, you'd do it.

You lifted your hips enough for Joker to slide your shorts and panties off in one fell swoop. Of course you didn't see him pocket said panties for safe keeping, but you quickly grew uncomfortable with the way he stared at your private parts.

Did it look weird? What if he didn't like it? You most certainly didn't. Any personal care was done as quickly as possible to avoid any unnecessary glimpses and you never looked at yourself the way Joker was right now.

He had yet to say anything but his unwavering gaze was starting to scare you. Did he have to stare for so long?

You whimpered and tried to cover your sex but Joker merely slapped your hand away.

"Stop looking at me..." You whined. That finally got Joker to meet your eye.

"Why not Y/n? Every part of you is sooo pretty. I wanna taste it..."

Before you could question the legitimacy behind his words, Joker licked your pussy with a guttural groan. The vibrations it left felt so good, you didn't realize you grabbed a hold of his hair. Joker didn't mind and quickly forgot about you being a virgin as he ate you out like a man on a mission.

"Soooooo sweet.. an' juicy.." He said in between licks.

Joker tuned out your startled babbles and pleas to savor the unique taste of your pussy. Your juices fell on his tongue like ambrosia and he lapped up every last drop that you steadily produced with gusto.

It was an honor to be the first to taste you and Joker pulled out everything in his bag of tricks to take you to the summit. Your first orgasm. F__k he wanted it all for himself.

He flicked his tongue over your clit and ever so gently slid his middle finger inside your cunt.

"Joker!" You screamed.

He chuckled as he eased it in up to his knuckle but met resistance. "Hush now baby doll. I gotta get ya loosened up to take something muchhh bigger than this..."

Something bigger? Your mind couldn't even fathom the thought. You writhed on his finger in a newfound agony until another sharp pain made you gasp.

Joker shushed you and kissed your clit as another finger slid its way into your tight hole. You were doing so well all things considered. Joker let endless praises fall from his lips in between kissing and sucking on your pussy. You seemed to unknowingly enjoy praise, if the fresh flow of juices from your slit were any indication. Joker twisted his wrist so his two fingers slid in deeper to scissor your hole wider. You were welcoming the foreign invasion but he could feel the restraint still lying dormant within you.

With every pump of his fingers, he made sure to stretch them just a bit deeper and a lot wider to further his goal. After a while, you relaxed around his two fingers and seemed to enjoy the new sensation he introduced to you.

He added a third finger even as you whimpered in protest.

"Shhh, you need thissss." Joker angled his fingers in a come hither motion to stroke your g spot directly. You jerked in shock and clamped down on his fingers.

"R-Right there, J..ahh yessss.."

Joker grinned when you practically melted to his touch. That 'itch' you kept going on about was finally being attended to. This is what you craved all along.

But something was happening. A pressure you never felt before was building and you knew it wasn't good.

"J-J..ok— ahh! I feel.. weird. I think I'm mmhph!! I don't wanna.." You cried out.

Joker saw your thighs twitching and grinned. He wondered when you'd get close. "Let it go Bunny. It's okay."

Joker's deep voice urged you on, where exactly— you were unsure of, but he was more knowledgeable than you here. Even though your brain protested the feeling, since the rising pressure resembled that of using the bathroom, you let your body's natural instinct take control.

"Listen to your body, Princess. She knows what's best."

You nodded at Joker's vague words and let the feeling build more and more. You felt hot all over and dizzy yet Joker would not stop until you crumbled completely under pressure.

He kept your thighs spread open and grinned like a certified madman as he sped up his fingers, pumping into your hole until it audibly gushed out. Almost there..

Something was happening within your body that you couldn't comprehend. Your ears were ringing and tears streamed down your face as a white hot coil snapped just underneath your navel.

You felt like passing out, it was so intense yet you moaned as waves of pleasure washed over you.

And Joker drank everything you gave. He watched you die and come back anew right before his eyes and it was such a sight to behold.

You came back shivering and weak but had enough strength to pose the question. "W-what just h-happened?"

Joker left a lasting kiss on your clit before he crawled up your body. It was flush with a sheen of sweat and desire and he showered every inch of it with affection on his travels.

"Did ya enjoy your first orgasm?" He mumbled on your shoulder. "I sure did."

"O-Orgasm? So... I didn't pee?"

Gosh you were so cute, he wanted to ruin you so bad. "Mmhm. NoT quite. You came so hard for meeee. And ya taste so good too, see?"

Joker kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, although he laughed when you jerked back in disgust.

"That's not sweet! More like tangy and salty! Eww.. and you like that?" You said while wiping your mouth clean. You were still convinced you relieved yourself, however the texture was more creamier than liquid that told you otherwise.

"I do. Very. Very. Much." To prove his point, he licked his fingers clean of you while you watched in intrigue. It got you thinking..

"Umm, w-what do you taste like J?"

Joker died then and there. You asked him so casually, was he corrupting you too fast? Of course not. You blinked owlishly at Joker waiting for a response. All he could do was chuckle under his breath.

"I'll let ya have a uhh, taste another day Bunny. Right now, f__k, I gotta.. I need to be inside this pussy. Are ya still itchy?"

You blinked twice before nodding your head.

Whatever Joker did just then was amazing but it wasn't enough to quell the unknown feeling between your legs. You still couldn't form the right words to explain the sensation though. Maybe you could ask Joker about it later. Right now, your fears were bubbling up to the surface as he towered over you.

"You'll be gentle right? It won't hurt?"

Joker sighed before kissing you soundly. He then reached a hand down to check your entrance. You were still wet and you moaned into Joker's mouth at the soothing circles he left on your sensitive bud. "Mmm it shouldn't, Bunny."

Joker stopped rubbing your clit so he could remove his shirt and pants. You watched in awe as his body was revealed to you. Sure you saw glimpses of it here and there but fully bare before you now, Joker was stunning.

How did you get so lucky?

"There's no need to be shy, Y/n." Joker cooed at you.

He noticed you were still hesitant and moved your hands to his chest for you. Seeing your hands on him.. it was a step in the right direction. He couldn't wait to see them wrapped around his cock.

Baby steps though. Today was your first time but if he played his cards right.... Why not go big rather than go home?

With Joker's permission, you caressed the hard planes of his chest and abs, wondering what the large indentation in his briefs was. The second your hand brushed against it, Joker hissed and grabbed your wrist.

Your eyes flickered up to his deep jade in awe.

"Easy there, bunny." He shivered. You tilted your head to the side in wonder until Joker let his cock spring out from his underwear. Your face was priceless.

"I take it, it's ya first time seeing one?"

You subconsciously clenched around nothing and nodded listlessly. Joker snorted and decided to let you explore uncharted territory. You know, get a little bit of hands-on training.

"Go on. Touch iT." Joker whispered in your ear as he guided your hands around his dick. He stifled his groans as your timid touch groped his shaft. J was soft yet hard at the same time and you paled at the thought of it in you.

If his fingers almost made you faint, what would this do? It felt powerful and ominous in your hands and oddly hot to the touch. Veins ran up the length of it and when you looked closer, a clear bead of liquid was oozing out the top. For some unknown reason you wanted to lick it up but second guessed yourself at the last minute.

"Is this.. going inside m-me? J, I don't think..."

"Yes it will." You wondered how Joker knew your exact thought, "I'll make it fit and you'll take every.. last.. inch. Under-stand?"

You jerked your head in a nod and it seemed to satisfy Joker since he nodded back. With that out of the way, Joker let you acquaint yourself with his dick until he grew impatient and batted your hands away. Any more stimuli and he would've cum prematurely.

He couldn't finish before the deflowering party got started. But he didn't calculate the way you were driving him nuts.

"Look at me Y/n. That, uhh, ache you have right here." Joker rubbed your womb affectionately before tipping your chin up with his fingers.

You were on your knees before him, patiently waiting for anything he would give.

"Your mind is still unsure but your body... mmmm, your body knows what it wants. Keep listening to your body, mkay? It's gonna be reallllly scary, and I. Won't. Stop. either, but you have to trust me bunny. Trust that I'm doing this to.. make you feel good. I'm going to ruin your pussy and there's nothing you can do about iT."

Your bottom lip trembled in fear but you nodded at Joker. He wouldn't deliberately hurt you.. right?

"O-Okay.. I trust you." Joker's smile was absolutely feral hearing you surrender to him so easily. You'd regret that later.

"That'sss my sweet girl. So! You're all wet and horny and need to be filled? So achy and needy? I'll help ya.."

Out of the blue Joker pushed you down on the bed and you yelped at the sudden shift in the air. "J? What're.."

"ShuT. Up. You deserve someone who will treat ya right. Mmm, should've picked someone else then. Lemme break you Princess, open up for me."

You didn't like where this was going but Joker did say to trust him. It was going to be scary but you had to trust him. Didn't mean you had to like it. You didn't want him breaking anything of yours!

Before you could turn your head away, Joker already grabbed a hold of it.

"Look at me! I said... spread your legs slut."

If Joker didn't see your pussy glistening with cum, he would have dialed things back but surprise surprise, his little virgin liked being dominated. You liked his meaner side even if your brain couldn't wrap itself around the idea. Joker was over the moon discovering your kinks way before you did.

He watched in glee as you parted your thighs for him. Your pretty folds were glistening like the delicate flower it was. Joker repeatedly slapped his dick on your puffy lips and you jumped in shock with each unexpected smack.

Even if you could squirm away, Joker would just drag you back. With one hand keeping your face towards him, he used the other to prod his cock in your slick juices.

You were so wet, he almost slipped inside with no resistance. He let you coat his dick completely and hissed at the warmth beckoning him in.

"Don't... look... away. Here we go. Ahh s__t, oh shhh shh Y/n, I know. I-I know it hurts and that.. Heh, that's just the tip.."

You were a panting mess. It felt like you were being split apart and he barely had the tip inside? This wasn't what you signed up for! "Joker, wait!!"

He muffled your cries with a kiss and bullied his way deeper inside of your tight walls, one agonizing inch at a time. You clawed at his forearm that was holding your face and wept at the sting his cock left behind.

It wasn't supposed to hurt yet it felt good at the same time. You couldn't decide which sensation overpowered the other, but right when you thought you couldn't take anymore, Joker bottomed out inside of you— groaning at your walls gripping him tight as you sobbed uncontrollably around him.

"Ahhh! Please, Joker no more!" You begged. Joker settled in within you, laughing.

"Whaddya mean, Bunny? That's it! Good job for taking me soooo well. You ahh, took it a-all on the first try. Breathe doll. Ya gotta breathe."

Joker groaned as you turned a little blue in the face. His cock was already making you go stupid and he had yet to start thrusting.

He wanted to tease you about it but he wasn't any better as your gummy walls choked the life out of his dick. You felt absolutely sinful wrapped around him. He felt lightheaded from the intense heat your body enveloped him in.

"How does it f-feel to not be a.. mmm.. virgin anymore?"

"F-Full..." You wheezed out.

"Yeah? What if I ahh, take it away?" Joker pulled out, till nothing but the aching tip remained and you cried out, begging him to come back. "I knew it, such a greedy little slut... but today I'll be generous. Here you go."

He thrust into you sharply, making you arch your back and disrupt the grip he had on your face. "Ohh you like it rough, doll?"

Joker grabbed your hips instead and set his knees into the bed. Each word was drilled into your pussy with a powerful, breathtaking thrust. "Good. To. Know."

You couldn't think straight let alone form words from the assault. All that could escape your lips was Joker's shortened name and pornagraphic moans.

You were tossing your head side to side and drooling up a storm. Joker thought it was the prettiest thing in the world. You were a natural.

"And you thoughT you wouldn't be good enough, HA! You're perfect for meeee.. I should've taken you months ago, f__k." Joker didn't care if he was talking too much, you were proving to be too much for him to handle.

Between your tight pussy suffocating his cock, to your breast bouncing in his face, Joker didn't know where to focus his attention.

That is, until you made the decision for him.

You never followed his instructions. He didn't care how hard it was to focus, he wanted to see the moment your brain shut down and floated away. How could he do that if you closed your eyes?

Joker growled and picked up the pace but not before squeezing your throat. "What.. did I tell you? Don't. Look. Away."

He wasn't expecting you to let out an airy giggle in response. You would be his undoing. Smiling as he choked you? It was like you were made for him.

Joker groaned and lost himself, giving it his all to make you feel good. This was your first time after all. He would stop at nothing to make it perfect.

You weren't complaining as you struggled to breathe in between the brutal pace Joker set and with his hand wrapped tightly around your throat.

A while ago, the initial pain of his cock entering your hole morphed into mind numbing pleasure. Now you understood the hype behind sex. Why did your parents and other adults growing up censor this from you?

It was indescribable the way Joker made you feel. You were in fact seeing stars with each cant of his hips. Had you known sex could feel this good sooner, you couldn't even wrap your head around the possibilities your teenage self could have created.

"nny? Bunny? Come back to meeeee. There ya are! Heh, thought I squeezed too tight."

You blinked back the fog to notice Joker had come to a stop inside of you and was doting on you with a slight look of concern in his eyes. It was gone by the time you cleared your throat.

He let go of it during your brief stint in headspace when he saw your eyes roll back.

There was a fine line between breath play and choking. Joker wasn't about to go too far, especially since this was your first time.

He wanted this to be memorable, not kill you. So against his wishes, he stopped to check on you when you became unresponsive.

You were breathing normally again (albeit your eyes were still glazed over) but he proposed a new idea anyway. "Wanna try a different position?"

You stretched your arms out for Joker to grab onto with a meek nod. He chuckled at your innocence on full display.

His sweet girl was a pillow Princess through and through.

Too bad he wanted to corrupt that and everything else about you. You would be a ravenous minx by the end of his teachings, that much he was certain of.

Joker sighed as he left your warmth and drummed up a good position in his head. There were so many he wanted to try with you but one in particular made him grin deviously.

You caught sight of it and gulped down your fear. "J... please be.."

"Nothing about me is gentle doll. Remember thaT. Now, what's a sweet little thing like you owning a big mirror like this hmmm?"

Joker scooped you up from the bed and slammed you face first into the floor length mirror that you had set up in the room.

He loved seeing your shock reflect through the mirror.

"Do ya use it to touch yourself? Can't blame ya if you do. I'd watch this body too.." He fondled your hips and squeezed your breasts as you shook your head in denial.

You watched yourself in the mirror being manhandled at a loss for words.

"N-No! It's not l-like that!" You cried out when Joker yanked your hair back in his strong grip. All you could do was grip the mirror's frame, less you lose your balance.

Joker had you standing on your tippy toes with your head tilted all the way back in order to stare up into his eyes.

"Open your mouth." He ordered.

You did without hesitation but froze when Joker spat right onto your tongue.

"Ahht ahht, swallow. Now." He growled. He didn't care if it was yucky to you, it asserted his dominance over you and he grinned when you teared up but swallowed on command.

He noticed your legs rubbing against each other and knew subconsciously you loved it. That innocent mind of yours was holding you back however.

"It's always the shy ones." Joker chuckled under his breath. In an instant he used your hair to guide you back onto his dick. Your breath was stolen right from you by the unexpected invasion.

"Oh bunnyyyy, you got tighter." He groaned.

He rammed his cock into you at a bruising pace and yanked your hair whenever you tried to look away. Your only option was to lean forward onto the cool mirror and watch as J pounded into you from behind on its surface.

The sight of your nude body being taken in such a way was embarrassing— all flushed and slack jawed, but Joker was right there behind you, whispering how beautiful you were and how lucky he was to take your v card.

Whatever that meant.

What you did know was that Joker was thrusting into you harder than ever and that wondrous feeling from before was fast approaching again. You were unsure how Joker managed to fit his length inside of you yet there was a noticeable bulge in your stomach that you couldn't keep your eyes off of.

Joker followed your gaze through the mirror and relocated one of his hands to rub against it during each snap of his hips. And when he pressed down on it? You sang praises to his name.

"You.. really are stuffed.. fuuc—full of me huh, baby doll? G-Gooood, that's good." He smiled into your skin and picked up the pace, like he wasn't already rattling the mirror and artwork against the wall with every rough thrust.

You were swaying on your feet from the pleasure and it grew the moment Joker rubbed erratic circles on your clit.

You couldn't handle the added stimuli and tried moving his hand away because this time it really felt like you were..

Your undoing completely blindsided you; it was so intense. Your legs shook like a newborn's and you almost fell if not for Joker catching you at the last minute. He was in high spirits, cooing in your ear.

"D__n, Y/n! Goood girl, C'mon.. breathe for me Bunny.. yeah. That was.. heh somethin' else wasn't it? Shhh shhhh easy now.." He ignored the wet mirror dripping with your cum to help you down onto the plush rug at your feet.

You were twitching and pushing Joker away but he fought back and flipped you onto your stomach.

Your legs were still dripping wet from squirting, so your pussy accepted Joker back inside no issue.

That didn't mean your brain was so welcoming. "J.. too much, I-I can't!"

He just positioned your hips into a painful looking arch and drilled your pussy like no tomorrow.

"I. Don't. Care. Bunny. Ahh, you... ohh, youuuu got to cum twice now, selfish little whore. N-Now it's my turn and I'm gonna.. use ya.. like the dirty slut we both know ya are!"

He threw his head back as he slammed your hips back to take his dick over and over. The way your skin rippled with each thrust, the echo of wet skin on skin, your pathetic cries floating in the air; Joker loved every detail.

A quick glance to his right gave him the perfect view of your back arching in the mirror and your tear stained face smushed into the rug.

You were taking his cock with a blissed out smile on your face. Joker truly was a lucky man. Your first time and you were already showing signs of being a perfect cock-slut.

What more could he ask for in a partner?

He'd love exposing you to his most kinkiest desires and treating his touch starved Princess to all of the pleasures known to mankind. By the way your weeping pussy was still throwing it back on him and squeezing his dick so tight, physically you were still in the game.

A shame your mind couldn't keep up.

He laughed at the broken pleas spilling from your lips. Your mind was still a virgin but your body never truly was. This body of yours was begging for his cum.

And he would deliver.

Joker choked on a moan as his release creeped up on him. His hips lost their rhythm and became more primal in the desperate need to cum. Joker reached down and grabbed ahold of your hair to twist your face towards him.

"Now this... ohh shi— tt-this is the ahh, most important part Bunny. Good.. gooood girls get rewarded. T-They get cum deeeeep in their greedy little wombs. You.. you want thaT? You want my cum?" He asked.

You didn't understand a single word but nodded aways. "Yes J, please!"

Joker was too close to mock your eagerness. He was spouting nonsense himself; his head was so mushy.

"I'm gunna give it to ya. You've been such a good little bunny. This'll make ya feel sooo much better, so full n' complete. All m-mine.. you'll take it yeah? Won't you, Y/n?"

Joker had more to say but two thrusts later, he erupted in your pussy, painting it white with no end in sight.

Joker's release triggered one last orgasm from you as his hot cum bathed your walls and sent you down a spiral.

You collapsed and Joker's weight kept you pressed to the floor as he continued to rock his hips into you, unable to stop himself. Both of you struggled to catch a breath but Joker regained his senses first and rolled over onto his side, dragging you with him.

Naturally he was the big spoon and showered you with much needed affection.

You were shivering with aftershocks with a faraway expression on your face. He hummed as he softened inside you and waited until he was coherent enough to check on you.

"Y/n?" He brushed a lock of hair off your shoulder. "You uhhh alright?" Joker turned you around and you clung to him instantly.

He rubbed your back and petted your hair, a complete 180 of the dominant man rearranging your guts just moments prior.

"I wasn't too rough, no? If ya didn't li-ke it or.. uhh, we can try again? More gentler—-"

You cut him off with a kiss.

Joker looked down at you in shock. Your beautiful face was wet with tears but your eyes... those sweet e/c shined so brightly at him in adoration.

"It was p-perfect, J. T-Thank you." You kissed him again and collapsed into his arms when your strength suddenly failed you.

You landed on his chest and left kisses where you could reach. They were weak brushes of your lips, but Joker didn't mind. At least you were okay.

"Mmm, err don't thanK me just yet doll. C'mere." He tipped your head back so the two of you could lock eyes.

"This... was tame compared to what I'll do to ya next time."

Your eyes widened. "N-Next time?"

Joker snickered at your innocent wonder and nodded. Somethings just wouldn't change he guessed.

"Mmhm. There's so much more to learn Y/n.." He tucked a curl of hair behind your ear. You were so pretty in your afterglow, he couldn't even focus on what he was saying.

Joker didn't know how long he was gonna lay low with the authorities but he knew he was staying here with you for a very, very long time.

646 notes · View notes

skyward-floored · 3 months

Text

Febuwhump collab alt day - “I love you”

And here’s the last febuwhump fic (...on the 27 of March lol. what can I say, I get easily distracted).

This one was suggested by @webhead3345, and it’s really more hurt/comfort then anything, but after the last one some comfort is probably nice XD I hope you enjoy it!

And thanks to everyone who suggested characters/prompts for these! I appreciate you all so much <3

Today’s lovely art

Ao3 link

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Having six kids could be a challenge sometimes, Malon was willing to admit.

It would be difficult enough normally, but with five of them having superpowers, two being adopted, and all of them rambunctious boys who sometimes forgot their house was on the small side... it could be a lot sometimes.

But Malon always did her best, and Time along with her. Even when it got overwhelming, even when they disagreed, even through the sleepless nights and stress and fear and countless other worries from essentially living underground, they both tried their hardest to raise their kids well, and keep them safe and happy. Malon could only hope they were succeeding.

Especially in regards to their two adopted boys.

Hyrule and Wild had both been through such awful things, both due to factors they couldn’t control. It wasn’t always obvious, and they were both so strong for their ages, but sometimes the scars that had been left on them both reared their ugly heads, and one or the both of them would fall apart for a bit.

Malon always tried to pay attention and help when one or the other of them was stuck in a bad period. She had plenty of practice with Wild, and usually knew how to comfort him, but Hyrule could be a bit of a mystery still. She was still figuring out what tended to set him off, how he acted when he was upset, how his reactions tended to differ from Wild’s, and most of all, how to help.

And at the moment, she was at a bit of a loss as to what to do.

Hyrule had been acting quieter then normal recently, fading to the background of the typical chaos his brothers brought with them. He mostly just nodded if someone asked him something, and seemed a little more distant, taking longer to respond to things, and keeping to himself.

Malon wouldn’t have worried too much about most of that, but then she noticed the shadowed circles appear under his eyes, ones that only seemed to get darker with every passing day. It soon became obvious Hyrule wasn’t getting nearly enough sleep with the way he began to stumble around, and Malon’s worry doubled.

And then Wild started to act in a similar way, unusually quiet and withdrawn, tired-looking and cranky, and that really got her worried.

Malon just wasn’t sure how to go about getting to the root of the problem. Wild and Hyrule were both tight-lipped when things bothered them, and got defensive if pushed, and Malon knew a direct confrontation could be disastrous. She’d tried some light prodding, but hadn’t been successful in the slightest.

She could guess what it was that was bothering the two of course, and had a pretty good idea of what it might be, but she also didn’t want to assume and end up making things worse. Time didn’t have any ideas either when she discussed the problem with him, but he’d been swamped at work lately, and was barely thinking straight.

So Malon was left to try and figure out the problem mostly by herself, her worry growing by the day.

It finally reached the point where it was affecting her own sleep, and Malon found herself startled awake late one night after a week had gone by from the start of her sons’ odd behavior, and found herself completely unable to fall back asleep.

Time was snoring softly beside her, and Malon laid there for a while, trying to let the sound lull her back to sleep. She didn’t have any luck though, her brain too full, her mind too awake. She finally sighed, getting nowhere, and carefully slipped out of bed and pulled on her bathrobe. She made sure not to disturb Time at all, then walked down to the kitchen to try making herself a cup of tea.

The kettle didn’t take long to heat, and Malon yawned as she set her tea to steeping, walking into the living room with it to sit and wait for it to finish.

Then stopped in her tracks, realizing she wasn’t alone.

Malon hadn’t noticed on her way in, but there were two odd lumps huddled on the couch, both quiet and still. She stepped closer to study them, and realized one was Hyrule, wrapped tight in a blanket and staring silently at the ground.

He wasn’t the only there either, but whoever it was beside him was bundled up so tightly that Malon had no idea who it even was.

She could certainly guess though.

Worry crested over her, and she set down her cup, walking forward and shuffling her feet just a little to make sure Hyrule heard her coming. He startled a little anyway when he noticed her, but didn’t shield or run, just went back to staring at the floor.

The lump next to him shifted a little, and Malon saw a strand of long blond hair fall free of the blanket.

“Hyrule? Wild?” she asked gently, and Hyrule swallowed, wiping his sleeve across his eyes. Wild didn’t move. “It’s awful late you two, what are you doing down here?”

Hyrule didn’t look at her.

“Sorry, it’s nothing,” he whispered.

“If it was nothing, you both wouldn’t be out here and not in your beds,” Malon gently pointed out, sitting down on the couch beside them both. “What’s eatin’ you?”

Hyrule kept looking at his feet, a few sniffles escaping him.

“I-I, we just can’t sleep,” he whispered, not meeting her eyes. “That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Malon asked gently. Hyrule gave her a tiny shrug. “Well... is there a particular reason you two can’t sleep?”

Hyrule went silent.

The lump at his side shifted, and Wild poked his head out, Hyrule moving so he was more tucked against his side then before.

“...bad dreams,” Wild whispered after a few minutes, voice shaky. “‘Rulie too.”

Malon’s heart sank.

“Both of you?” she asked worriedly, and Wild nodded, rubbing at the shadows under his eyes.

“Sorry,” Hyrule whispered even more quietly.

“Honey, you don’t need to apologize,” Malon said, and turned so she could meet his eyes. “Neither of you do, it’s okay. Do you want to talk about them?” she asked in a softer voice.

Wild shook his head, and Hyrule shrank down in his blanket.

“No.”

Worry prickled at her, but Malon nodded, and didn’t say anything for a moment, Hyrule still letting out an occasional sniffle. Wild shifted where he was curled up again, and somehow he and Hyrule ended up snuggled against Malon, Wild’s head in her lap, Hyrule’s resting on her arm.

A shuddering sigh escaped Wild, and Malon ran a hand over his head, fingers ghosting past his scars.

She let out a quiet sigh of her own, looking at them both. She’d finally gotten the answer to what was bothering them (and had been bothering them), but she felt no better knowing the reason.

The nightmares must have been especially bad as of late.

Malon adjusted Hyrule’s blanket, continuing to run her hand over Wild’s head. She dearly wished she she could take away what was troubling them both, and let them get a full night’s sleep for once, but unfortunately that wasn’t a power she possessed.

Malon wished it all the same though.

Hyrule sniffled again, and Malon shifted her arm so it was resting around him, loose enough he wouldn’t be nervous, but tight enough to offer comfort. He leaned into it, and Malon ran her hand over his hair as well.

“Mom?” Wild whispered after a bit, and Malon hummed questioningly. “Why’re you awake too?”

“Did we wake you up?” Hyrule asked worriedly, and Malon shook her head.

“No sweetie, you didn’t. I just couldn’t sleep either,” she admitted, and Wild peered up at her, worry shining in his eyes.

“...was it cause of nightmares?” he asked softly, and Malon ran her hand over his head again.

“No, not tonight. But... sometimes I have them.”

“...What about?”

Malon sighed, thinking for a moment before she spoke. Wild and Hyrule certainly didn’t need to know everything about nightmares she’d had, especially the worst ones, but maybe a few details would help them feel better.

“Well... I worry about you boys, and your father. All sorts of things, really. And sometimes my dreams take my worries and just twist them up and make them worse then they really are. It’s hard,” she said gently, “to remember they’re not real sometimes.”

Her boys seemed to think about that for a minute, both staying quiet.

“...Mine’re like that,” Hyrule whispered. “With the mostly real things.”

“I never remember mine,” Wild admitted, voice still shaky. “Just... just how bad they were.”

“Oh boys,” Malon said softly, and Hyrule sniffled again, hiding his face in her arm.

She’d thought the ache in her chest couldn’t get any worse, but apparently it could, and Malon held both of them tighter, running a soothing hand across both their heads. Hyrule and Wild relaxed at the motion, and Malon kept it up, beginning to softly hum.

She couldn’t take her sons’ bad dreams away. And she couldn’t take away the memories that brought them on, and continued to plague them even afterwards. But she could comfort them now, let them know everything was okay and that they weren’t alone, no matter what their nightmares tried to tell them.

Not on my watch, she thought as she continued to hold them tight.

Wild and Hyrule’s eyes began to droop as she hummed her family’s song, and Malon watched as they both slowly nodded off, still snuggled tight against her.

After several minutes, both were soundly asleep, faces relaxed from the tension that had been there before. A part of Malon wanted to just stay here with them all night, but she knew her back wouldn’t like it if she slept upright on a couch, and they’d all be more comfortable in their own beds. So once she was sure they were both asleep, she shifted Wild and Hyrule around, careful not to wake them. Then Malon pulled them both up into her arms, standing and walking back to their rooms.

Despite her efforts not to jostle them, both Hyrule and Wild’s eyes blinked open as she moved, and they watched her walk up the stairs, barely awake.

“You can carry us both?” Wild murmured doubtfully, and Malon smiled as she easily reached the top of the stairs.

“Darlin’ I’ve lifted cows twice your size before, this is nothing.”

Hyrule giggled. “Really?”

“Really.”

Hyrule and Wild both let out sleepy giggles at that, and Hyrule set his head back against her shoulder, eyes slipping closed.

Malon dropped Wild off first, setting him down in his bed and attempting to fix his blankets. Somehow they’d gotten all tangled around and folded in on themselves, and it took her a moment to straighten them out enough to tuck Wild in.

“Goodnight hon. Sleep well,” she said softly.

“You too,” Wild mumbled sleepily, and curled up under his blankets.

Malon gave him a kiss, and noticed a furry head poking up from Twilight’s bed, blue eyes shining at her. She put a finger to her lips, then carried Hyrule out of the room, hearing pawsteps cross the floor after she was gone.

She brought Hyrule to the room he shared with Four and Wind, stepping lightly so as not to wake anyone. Malon set him down once she crossed the room to his end, and tucked him in like she’d done for Wild, adjusting his blankets around him, and fetching the stuffed rabbit he usually slept with that had fallen halfway under the bed.

Hyrule watched her sleepily the whole time, still clinging stubbornly to consciousness. Malon lingered a moment even after she finished getting him settled, running a hand over his head, and Hyrule relaxed into the touch.

“Goodnight honey,” she said softly as his eyes finally drifted shut, and she stood and began to walk out the door.

“...Mom?”

The whisper made her pause, and she looked back at Hyrule, his eyes open again.

“Yes sweetheart?”

Hyrule blinked sleepily, barely hanging on to wakefulness, but Malon heard his next whisper loud and clear.

“...Love you.”

Malon looked at him in astonishment, warmth blooming in her middle at the sound of the words from her son. She blinked back a bit of a sting in her eyes, then walked back over to Hyrule, smiling at him.

“I love you too honey,” she said softly, and kissed the top of his head. “Sleep well.”

Hyrule smiled back at her, and his eyes closed again, Malon knowing he was truly asleep this time.

She adjusted his blankets just a little more, then straightened and crept out of the room, back to her own bed. The anxiety and tightness that had been keeping her awake had finally settled, and her eyes felt heavy as she slipped back to where she and Time slept.

“...Everything alright?” Time whispered as she got back into bed, looking at her sleepily. “You’ve been gone a while, I was about to come looking for you."

Malon smiled as she got under the covers, and nestled up to Time with a sleepy sigh.

“Yes. Everything’s fine,” she replied, setting her head under his. “Nothing to worry about.”

And something to celebrate, she thought as she closed her eyes, Hyrule’s whisper still warming her heart.

#Hyrule doesn't vocalize his feelings like... ever #so this was a big deal for Malon #she'd never heard him say I love you before #incredibles au #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu malon #lu hyrule #lu wild #febuwhump #alt prompt #linked universe fanfic #writing from the floor #and that's (finally) a wrap!#thanks y'all XD #if you have an opinion on what I should work on next for this au do send it my way #I've got a couple things in progress but I never know what to work on lol

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bengiyo · 4 months

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Cherry Magic TH Ep 12 (Finale) Stray Thoughts

Last week, Achi went to a different city to help set up a new office. There, he had to work on his social skills to bond with the new staff, and succeeded through the power of his good nature and soccer. Karan and Achi stayed in touch the entire time they were separated, and Karan visited twice. Achi hesitated about coming out, but was rewarded when the new team was completely supportive and only asked about his partner so they knew who to contact. Meanwhile, Jinta talked Min into not giving up on an audition, and Min said he loved Jinta. We left on Achi losing his powers in a very satisfying bed scene and afterglow.

Achi really lucked out with Karan.

I'm so proud of Achi for managing to complete this project and earn the confidence of this team.

Ah yes, a finale. It's time to meet the parents.

Boss, don't remind me of the no dating rule.

Pai is such a supportive friend.

NOT THE BALLOONS SOUNDING LIKE GUNSHOTS

Damn, Mom, why you gotta dunk on your own son??

It's fine, she's definitely cool with it. She already put them to work and doled out advice.

I love Karan so much. This man recorded Achi expressing love in the Northern dialect, and Achi agreed so he wouldn't have to say it often.

It couldn't all be cherries on tablecloths. Looks like Karan is maintaining continuity with his Japanese counterpart's family.

Achi's mom hugging Karan is something that can be so personal.

I will never get over Jinta wearing sunglasses over his glasses.

Yes, let's model good fan behavior with the artist. They only jumped because they thought Jinta was trying to kidnap Min and then calmed down. They're even fans of Jinta's book!

Absolutely love that Karan is not withholding his feelings from Achi about how his mom might be homophobic.

AN 8 HOUR DRIVE? Are we going to Dallas???

Give that man his reward, Achi!

Welp, I knew it was too simple with Karan's mom. She very smoothly shoved them into a closet.

I'm glad it's the sister having this conversation with the mom.

She said her piece and counted to three!!!

Karan being a little brother makes so much sense every time.

Look at Tay Tawan acting. I know the mom and dad turning around so quickly is a bit unrealistic, but I like the aspirational nature of it. It could be this easy if we tried hard enough for each other.

Of course he proposed. I love this man.

You know he's had that ring ready for a while!

COME THROUGH, ACHI!! MUTUAL GAY PROPOSAL!!!

Wow, that was everything I hoped for and more out of the family stuff.

Whoa, did Jinta reveal he popped that cherry?

Oh, it's also the symbol for Min's group.

Aww, Rock has a fan!!

Pai is definitely shipping Rock and the fan.

Save the date!!

Well well well, Cherry Magic Thailand. Good job being explicit about marriage equality.

Okay, I like the reference to the pens.

I'm okay with Rock and Pai getting to date.

These two are very good at the aesthetics of an onscreen kiss.

Final Verdict: 9.5, This is Now My Default Version. I did not expect to come out on the other end of this liking the Thai version more than the Japanese live action, but here we are. Minus episode 8 (which I will pretend doesn't exist), this was perfect execution of the core premise and strong regard for the character dynamics. This show earned every moment, and managed to deliver a satisfying finale for the whole cast. It's been a long week of finales, and I like how good so many were. TayNew getting back together was not something I expected, and I'm so thrilled that they delivered such a strong outing. What a time to be a Cherry Magic fan. I'm excited to keep reporting on the anime and then talk about all three shows.

#Ben watches #cherry magic #cherry magic th #cherry magic thailand #cherry magic! thirty years of virginity can make you a wizard?!#30 sai made doutei dato mahoutsukai ni nareru rashii #thai bl #bl series

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asimplearchivist · 11 months

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‘ 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓶𝔂 𝓿𝓸𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓮 . ’

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ steven, unbeknownst to him, meets the love of his life at one of its lowest points. pairing(s) ☽ steven grant/reader word count ☾ 15.7k a/n ☽ [gif credit] ⤏ aka my personal love letter to one steven grant (and myself, because I want to be loved like I love just once).⤏ i am going to be completely honest on this one, guys: this is a borderline self-insert fic that is 100% self-indulgent on my part bc i have felt like shit the last two months and want to treat myself. ⤏ i kept it as a reader-insert because a) some people (including myself) enjoy experiencing different ‘pov’s of reader-inserts, per se; b) it’s easier to be kinder to and romanticize myself when it’s ‘not me’; and c) i feel that it’s still vague/inclusive enough to be counted as a general reader-insert versus labeling it strictly as a self-insert/original character. i really only describe personality traits and the reader being petite, really (bc nothing comforts my 5’0” ass more than knowing i would actually be able to kiss the boys without craning my neck all the way back tbh). i use a few southern colloquialisms, too, just fyi. :) ⤏ typical moon knight fanfic disclaimer: I don’t claim to know very much about did beyond what I’ve gleaned from both the show, the various meta posts I’ve read on tumblr, and from other fanfics themselves, so please forgive and correct me on any glaring discrepancies/issues I may have presented here (or link me any posts that discuss more accurate representations of did, perhaps—that’d be greatly appreciated). some of the terminology/technicalities escape me. I tried my best to get their voices and characterizations just right, and I sincerely hope I succeeded bc they’re very special to me. ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ ☥ ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER ☽

The first time Steven met you, it was strictly by happenstance.

He had always considered himself a man with many friends. Although his routine was relatively simple compared to other Londoners who thrived in social settings and spent all of their free time anywhere but home to mingle and chase tail, he had familiar faces he saw frequently. He committed their names to memory when they’d give them off-handedly, he made a point to speak to them in passing even if he or they were otherwise occupied, and he kept a mental list composed of all the details he was able to glean strictly from observation when they didn’t readily volunteer the information.

Perhaps it was a little silly. All lot of them had trouble remembering him, sure, but he couldn’t hold it against them—tons of people had trouble keeping track of faces and people. Sure, JB never quite got his name right even after Steven had worked at the museum for a couple of months by now, but he was a busy man monitoring the security cameras all day long and stayed distracted (with his infatuation with otters, no less—as endearing of a trait as any for someone with a secret soft side). Donna stayed in a tizzy, always worked up over something beyond her control (Steven couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be dealing with the higher-ups trying to meet goals and attempting to exceed them). He didn’t really dislike them for it, even if it had grown rather grating as of late. (Even if it would only take them both a moment to look at his conveniently given and placed nametag.)

Crowley didn’t talk much, all part of the gig, so Steven didn’t hold their one-sided conversations against him, either. The gentleman with the broom cart (whose name Steven never had managed to catch, as gruff as he was) seemed only to ever respond with grunts. The security guards, the tour guides, the usual suspects on the morning and night bus rides…Steven interacted with them all, and they had enough good graces to acknowledge it most of the time.

Over time, however, as his dreams (or perhaps more aptly named nightmares) grew more vivid and more bizarre, as he seemed to lose track of time more and more (how exactly does one manage to miss an entire weekend when one isn’t a blackout drunk?), and as Steven’s anxiety led him into taking more and more precautions to make sure his self-diagnosed sleepwalking disorder didn’t strand him on the other side of London (again), it became more readily apparent that those people with whom he took such care to converse did not seem particularly inclined to return the favor. Sure, he’d accidentally nodded off a few times leaning on the other passengers in the morning bus, ran a little late at times getting to the museum (much to Donna’s ever-increasing ire), and maybe got a little carried away with his nattering when he got invested in something he was excited to share information about, but…would it really kill someone just to respond long enough to reassure him that he wasn’t virtually invisible?

It was one such morning after he overslept, convinced he was late, and worked himself into a right and proper state trying to get to the museum on time that he realized that it was, in fact, Sunday, not Saturday. Much to his bewilderment but proven by his phone, the museum stood barren and closed, doors locked and lights off. He stood at the entrance staring at his dumbfounded expression in the glass for a good five minutes, thoughts racing as he tried to recall anything about the previous day. There was no way he slept an entire day, right? He hadn’t been staying up too late trying to manage his disorder, even if he had been running a little tired lately.

His distress was punctuated by a fat, chilly droplet landing right on his nose. The early spring weather was unseasonably cold this year, leading to an abnormally wet season (as if rain could ever be abnormal in London, but the meteorologists remained convinced), and within seconds of Steven turning and trotting down the steps the skies parted and released their torrential downpour as if just to spite him specifically. Everyone else in the immediate vicinity, if they weren’t holed up in their cars or the myriad establishments bordering the museum district, already had their umbrellas up to shield themselves from the frigid onslaught, ambling along and circumnavigating the puddles lingering from the storm the night before..

Steven shrank into his coat, tugging the collar up and over his head as best he could as he crossed the street and aimed for the first building he saw with its neon, ivory OPEN sign glowing against the gloom—on the corner directly across from the museum entrance. The door was heavy, the handle cold enough he was surprised his palm didn’t stick to it, but he managed to pry it open and tumble inside.

A few people glanced up from their tables to give him a range of skeptical to humored looks before going about their business. Steven hedged to the side of the door in case someone else came in, dripping onto the old hardwood with no small amount of regret.

It was a coffee shop. Comfortingly warm against his numb face, he basked in the scents of espresso and sweets permeating the place. His attention was caught by the bookshelves on the wall to his right, and he was entranced—all until a barista slipped out from the kitchen and addressed him with a croon. “Oh, goodness, look like the weather caught you!”

Steven almost accidentally ignored you thinking that you were talking to someone else (for so rarely did someone speak to him in a tone that wasn’t irritated or dismissive). After his cursory glance in your direction, he did a double-take, realizing you were looking right at him.

“Yeah, I—looked at the forecast wrong, methinks!” he responded sheepishly (and he had—he’d been expecting Saturday’s overcast mist, not Sunday’s shower). “I’m makin’ a right mess, aren’t I? I should probably go before I warp the stain—”

“No! No, just wait a second.” You raised a placating palm before dipping below sight behind the counter. You emerged and rounded the corner next to the display case holding a towel, walking right up to him and offering it to him with a sympathetic smile. “I can’t count the number of times I thought I could beat Mother Nature,” you joked. “It sucks that it’s been so cold on top of it. I’m surprised I haven’t gotten sick.”

Steven accepted it graciously, muttering his earnest thanks as he went about mopping up his sopping curls. Once he’d wiped all the rain he could off of him, he handed it back to you. “Hope I don’t get one, neither,” he responded. “It just wouldn’t do to catch cold in the middle of all this, would it? No.”

You chuckled a bit, eyes glittering with mirth. “Maybe it’ll help if I get you something hot to drink?”

Steven glanced at the menu hanging on the wall behind the counter, eyes rounding a little at the prices. He’d overspent on books again after payday, so he was having to be a bit more frugal this week than usual. “Oh, no, don’t go to the trouble, I’ll just call a cab and get a ride home before it gets too bad.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” you assured him, wringing the towel between your hands. You hesitated only a heartbeat before you leaned in a little closer, smile turning a bit bashful. “I’ll make it on the house, how’s that sound?”

Steven normally considered himself one to give where charity was concerned, but he had to admit that the sound of something warm on his urgently empty stomach was divine at the moment. He cleared his throat, glancing towards the other customers still wrapped up in their own little worlds. “No, I couldn’t—wouldn’t want anyone jealous that they’re not gettin’ the special treatment, you know.”

“It can be our little secret,” you offered quietly, winking conspiratorially at him.

He blinked, heat creeping up into his face. “Oh, well. If you insist, then…just this once?”

“All right.” Your smile lit up your entire face, and you headed back behind the counter to deposit the towel in an unseen hamper.

Steven followed, training his eyes on the menu—the standard fare was reasonable, with alternative options for dietary restrictions. A lot of the custom concoctions did seem lovely, and he was a tad surprised to discover that they served breakfast and lunch, also—with vegan options, most notably. “Wow, I never even knew this place existed. I must’ve been walkin’ right by it this whole time.”

“Do you work at the museum?” you inquired, folding your arms over the counter and propping your chin up in your palm.

“I do, actually,” he beamed, though it was dashed a tad with his next confession. “I want to be a tour guide one day—you know, I’ve been studyin’ up for it and all—but they’ve got me in the gift shop. For now! They said they’d move me up with a new position becomes available.” They said that they would consider him for the role, but Steven clung to his hope that they’d soon realize how bloody good he’d be at it, as hard as he’d been working for it for so long.

“You always have to start somewhere,” you replied warmly. You gestured to the shop around you. “This is just to hold me over ‘til I’m finished up.”

“Are you a transfer student?” Steven asked.

Your brow rose slightly, but your smile didn’t waver. “How observant. Most people ask me how I got lost on this side of the pond.”

“It isn’t often I see Americans anywhere but in the more touristy spots,” he agreed, “but the university is quite prestigious. You must be very academically successful if you landed a transfer scholarship like that.”

“It took a lot of work,” you admitted, “but it’s been worth it. I never thought I’d do anything like this, and I would’ve laughed at you a couple of years ago if you’d told me I’d move this far away from home. I’ve never really been the traveling type, but I’m so grateful that I’ve had the opportunity to do so.”

“What are you studyin’?” Steven inquired. An English major, perhaps—you struck him as the literary type with your articulation, despite your soft, southern drawl.

“Oh.” Your face darkened and you fiddled with the hem of your sweatshirt—dark gray, warm flannel, with a silver astronomical design embroidered into the front. “Well. I went to a university back home and got a degree in writing—” Nailed it! “—but I was notified at graduation that I qualified for this so I thought why not? It’s a bit self-indulgent, really, as I’ve always been a history nut, but I’m, um…” You reached up and scratched the nape of your neck, glancing away as though embarrassed. “...focusing on Egyptology?”

Steven’s brows shot halfway up his forehead. “No kiddin’!”

“Nope,” you confessed, a bit sheepish. “I picked up a book with pictures of King Tutankhamun’s treasures when I was three and I’ve been in love with it since. Maybe it’s a little niche, but it makes me happy—I’m taking other history classes, too, so I’ll end up with an Ancient History major with a minor in Egyptology—that’s just my main focus since I always wanted to be an Egyptologist when I was little. I don’t know that I could ever stand the heat, though, so I’m happy with writing in the comfort of my own home.”

“No, that’s great!” he raved, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m a bit of a history buff meself! The museum has a huge Egyptology exhibit coming up next month, so I’ve been brushin’ up on it all. You know, in case I get to audition.”

“Oh, yeah?” you tried, emerging from your shell just a bit. “Do you have a favorite period?”

“New Kingdom, definitely,” he said immediately. His heart was thrumming, and he was trying (in vain) to contain at least the majority of his enthusiasm. “There’s just so much material to go through. All the texts recovered from Deir el-Medina fascinate me to no end!”

“Yeah, Paneb was a right bastard,” you joked. “He had the whole town stirred up all the time. But we’re not going to talk about Ea-Nasir.”

“Oh, yeah—imagine keepin’ all your hate mail for posterity,” he returned, strumming his fingers against the inside of his sleeves. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m an Old Kingdom gal,” you said with a chuckle. “Pepi II’s letter about the pygmy won me over. Not to mention all the drama with Teti’s assassination. The workmen’s village at Giza? Oh, how could I pick one thing?”

Finally! Finally, it felt like Steven was talking to someone that spoke his language!

“It’s really hard to, isn’t it?” His stomach was starting to grumble. He cleared his throat, tamping down his anticipation just enough to concentrate on the matter at hand. He glanced up at the menu again, a little remiss with some of the unfamiliar choices—most of those displayed were coffee, but he’d been trying to curb himself off of it in favor of cutting out caffeine altogether for a better sleep schedule. “I, um…sorry, got a little sidetracked there. What would you recommend that’s decaf?”

“Oh, I love chai,” you told him. “Most of the teas we carry are decaf, though we do have decaf coffee, too. We’ve got all the usuals like chamomile, mint, Earl Grey…” You tilted your head slightly. “I’ve been avoiding caffeine since I was a teenager—it makes me antsy.”

“How do you normally take your chai?” he queried, curious.

“As an iced latte,” you said. “Cold foam, cinnamon, whole milk. I like it warm, too, especially this time of year, but there’s something about it iced that I can’t seem to part from—maybe that’s the southern upbringing in me.” You gestured to the equipment behind you. “Would you like to try it?”

“Yeah, sure! But with oat milk, please?”

“You’ve got it, darlin’,” you beamed, and set to work immediately. “I usually drink a small since it’s a bit sweet, that okay?”

“Certainly.”

Never would Steven have thought that he’d find such a deeply kindred soul a stone’s throw away from his workplace he’d never even noticed before today. He had to confess that he was charmed by you almost instantly. It had been a while since he’d met someone so engaging and open—not to mention generous and drop-dead gorgeous to boot! Ironic, really, that the foreigner was treating him more kindly than his native kinsmen. What did the Americans say about southern hospitality?

“Thank you so much,” he said when you returned with the cup and set it in front of him. “It looks great!”

“Go ahead and try it,” you suggested, “and if you don’t like it, I’ll replace it for you with something else.”

Steven had absolutely no intention of telling you to your face that he disliked your favorite beverage, even if he did decide it wasn’t to his taste—much less make you go out of your way to make him another free drink. But as he sipped the heady, sweet mixture the spices melted over his tongue. Despite being served cold, the flavors warmed his mouth and settled cozily into his belly.

“Oh,” he suspired, licking the foam from his lips, “that’s lovely. You’ve won a convert.”

Your smile was nearly blinding with delight. “I’m glad! It’s not for everyone, certainly, but those who do like it always seem to love it. No in between, I guess.”

Steven resisted the urge to suck the entire thing down, folding it between his hands instead as he committed more details of your appearance to memory. Your black apron was a bit big for your frame, dwarfing you a bit, but your sweatshirt did, too—your jeans were well-fitted but not snug. You were wearing very little makeup, just a touch around the eyes, but it emphasized your lashes like a fawn’s. While comfortable, if a bit plain, your ensemble made you seem like the epitome of homey.

“How long have you lived in London?” he asked after another delightful sip.

“Since the start of spring semester,” you said. “It was a big adjustment to show up at the tail end of winter, but I think I’ve gotten the hang of it now for the most part. I still get lost occasionally, but that’s why Google Maps was invented. I’d be up a creek without a paddle without it.” You leaned against the counter again, bracing yourself on the stained surface and gazing up at him as if there existed no other person in the world. “I live right next to the campus, but I work here to get away even though my scholarships carry most of my bills and fees. Ironic, though, ‘cause I don’t exactly consider myself a socialite.”

“You’ve fooled me,” he said with a chuckle. “Bit odd bein’ an ambivert, yeah?”

“I really only talk a lot when I get excited or when I’m with people I’m comfortable being around,” you confessed shyly. “I’ve been told I talk too much about stuff nobody really cares about, so I try not to bother anyone.”

“Now who on earth would have gone and told you that?” he pressed, heart aching all the while. How many times had he been told the very same thing, sometimes with less polite wording?

“Oh, not exactly like that,” you rectified in a hurry, “it’s just…you can tell, you know? When someone isn’t really paying attention to anything you’re saying. I usually get interrupted anyway, so sometimes I find it easier just to keep quiet.” Your skin darkened again, and cleared your throat as you dipped your face to conceal it with a hand. “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I went into all that. See? Rambling too much—words got away from me.”

It was like looking into a mirror—so much so that Steven almost felt a bit of deja-vu.

“No, don’t be sorry,” he said softly. “I understand completely—really, I do. Better than you might think.”

You raised your gaze back up to him, and he understood at once why the philosophers and poets both waxed so romantic on the concept of windows to the soul. He could see your tenderness, your diffidence, your sincerity all there in your jewel-like eyes.

“People talkin’ over you all the time,” he continued with a low murmur, looking down at the cup when the intensity of your stare grew too much—just like looking directly into the sun, “actin’ like you’re invisible or somethin’. Gets frustratin’, yeah? Couldn’t even bother to act like you’re there, could they? No. Seems like too much to ask.”

“Yeah,” you said somberly, but when Steven dared a glance up at you, your expression was one of complete understanding. Never before had he felt so seen. “It doesn’t help when you’re really not a people person to begin with.”

And now that Steven considered it more deeply, he realized that you were right—why did he prefer to stay home rather than go out? Keeping company with a goldfish certainly wasn’t an extrovert’s definition of a good time. Hell, the only reason he really went out of his way to engage with those on the fringes of his daily routine was because he felt it was rude not to because of constant exposure, not because he was itching to have the conversations themselves. He worried constantly that he’d overshare or annoy people, when most wouldn’t even think of it.

He let out a soft laugh, pressing a palm across his forehead.

You quirked a brow, your expression perking up just a bit at the sound. “What?”

“I just realized I’m not really a people person, either,” he said, shaking his head. “Thought all this time everyone else was just awkward at social interaction.”

“Oh,” you chuckled, and there was that ephemeral sparkle of mirth back in your eyes. “Well. Better late than never, right?”

“Right.” He paused, then set the drink on the counter to fish around in his pocket for his wallet. “Here, since you’ve been an absolute angel—”

“Oh, no, please,” you said, waving your palms at him in an attempt to dissuade him, “it was my pleasure. Finding someone else as big of a nerd about Ancient Egypt was tip enough, thank you. You’ve made my whole day.”

And even though his morning thus far had been an utter disaster, Steven believed that you had made his entire day, too.

“Well, all right.” He pointed a finger at you with a wry, toothy grin. “But next time you won’t be able to talk me out of it.”

“Next time?” you echoed, and the unadulterated hope in your eyes made his heart clench.

“Yeah,” he said, “where else will I be able to order the ambrosia of the gods? And nerd out about ancient civilizations? Not all baristas carry a double-edged sword like you do.”

You bit your lip, rolled the hem of your sleeve between your fingertips, and looked down and away. “Oh, stop it. It’s really just a hobby.” You gave him another cheeky smile. “But, if it would make a difference to you, since you seem the type…” You leaned in across the counter, and Steven found himself copying the action as though you had magnetized him. “...there’s a bookstore upstairs, too.”

Oh, bloody Nora, as if you weren’t already perfect enough.

It wasn’t until Steven returned home, soaked to the bone and shivering from the cold that seeped into his bones after running from the cab into the apartment building, that he realized he hadn’t thought to ask you for your name. And he was normally so reliable about it, too! He kicked himself for it the rest of the day. He hadn’t even looked to see if you’d been wearing a name tag (pretty sure you weren’t, because he would have noticed it, surely), but he had been so disarmed by you in general that every other thought had flown from his brain.

After that, with the scribbled ingredients on the cup immortalized forever via a picture saved on his phone, he developed a fast habit of stopping by there at least three times a week. He had to rearrange his budget just a tad to ensure it did not turn into blatant overspending, but all the teas were excellent and the food was even better. Oftentimes he’d grab at least one meal from there one the days he did decide to go, which varied depending on how terribly he’d slept the night before. Most of the time he opted for lunch since he was afforded only a half-hour break and it was the closest spot to the museum. (The vending machines didn’t have much in the way of variety, vegan options notwithstanding.)

He learned your name the next time he saw you, which had taken a couple of separate attempts—evidently you’d been filling in for someone else for extra hours that dreary morning, as you usually came in for the closing shift during the week due to your morning classes, and typically were station in the bookstore upstairs, at that. You’d confessed that a lot of the part-timers were still inexperienced, and the staff oscillated so much that you had to juggle multiple positions throughout the week in order for the business to keep up efficiency.

Steven decided, at some indeterminate point a couple of weeks later, that you must be sunshine incarnate. Even if there was barely any daylight seeping through the brumous mantle looming over the sleepy city, you lit up the place with your warm smile, easy laughter, and gentle soul. He could spend countless hours talking to you, although he was usually only limited to the time allotted between him ordering and someone else coming in to do the same. After he got off work late after inventory (again), on the rare occasion that he’d missed lunch and needed supper, you gave him some of the free handouts the employees were allowed to take home and let him sit and talk while you locked the place up.

It was just so easy. Where he’d struggled to even introduce himself properly without making himself out to be a bumbling fool with everyone else with whom he’d interacted, fighting against an invisible current of perceived disapproval and rejection, engaging with you was as natural as breathing. You shared so many adjacent passions with him, the both of you had never once run out of topics to peruse. When either you or he would bring up something with which the other was unfamiliar, all ears would be given in total enrapturement. You got him. You understood him. It was such a relief to have finally found someone with whom he felt comfortable enough to natter on about the Edwin Smith papyrus for a solid thirty minutes without ever losing interest. Neither still had he stopped to imagine what it would be like to be so caught up in what someone else had to say, because you sure knew a hell of a lot about mythology, too—listening to your humored yet romanticized renditions of the tales delighted him to no end.

Your book recommendations were always impeccable, likewise—although you did primarily focus on fiction unless conducting research for your own books, your taste in storytelling relied upon well-developed, detailed, and impactful characters that carried the plot rather than the other way around. (You seemed to genuinely enjoy all of his recommendations, too, despite your general avoidance of nonfiction other than history, much to his relief.) You had a soft spot for romance, whether it was found in modern, historical fiction, fantasy, or sci-fi settings, and Steven took careful note of your mentioned favorite stories, scenes, and characters when he read them himself. You’d both even started annotating and trading books to exchange reviews, and your infectious adoration of certain authors and series decidedly did not help his book collecting problem—although you confessed that you shared the same issue (only to your bank account, though). The used section of the bookstore upstairs was his dream, really—he never thought he’d manage it, naively, but he was actually starting to run out of bookshelves in his flat.

You were fiercely intelligent, hilariously witty, and unbelievably kind—a breath of fresh air where London normally left him suffocated. You were the one ray of sunlight that could pierce the gloom that would encroach on the fringes of his mood no matter how badly he felt. Visiting you was the one routine that kept him grounded, even when he only seemed to lose track of more and more time as he went along—it kept him sane, seeing the way your whole face would light up like a supernova whenever he’d slip through the door. It made him feel normal.

So when a full month had flown by since your first meeting (a happenstance for which Steven would be eternally grateful), he found himself relying on your anchoring presence more and more. The occasions that he was waking up from sleepwalking in completely random places around London were increasing at a worrying rate. No matter how many additional precautions he added to his flat in feeble attempts to keep track of and prevent the episodes (each one perhaps sillier than the last), he never could seem to determine any rhyme or reason for them. His dreams (and sometimes they edged into the territory of nightmares) were growing more frighteningly vivid and visceral by the night, even if he was following every technique suggested by Google to help mitigate his condition.

The evidence was stacking up more rapidly against everything that he’d thought he knew than Steven could neither comprehend nor keep up with—despite thinking that nothing about him could ever be anything but ordinary, a small part of him was truly starting to wonder whether he’d somehow dodged a psychiatric diagnosis all of his life. He felt like he was going mad, watching the lines between what he’d thought were conjurations of his sleep-deprived mind and what he’d been convinced was reality inexplicably blurring beyond any conceivable recognition. ( Was he mad? Had he always been mad?)

Dreaming that he had woken up in the Alps with a frankly ludicrous series of events following shortly thereafter was one thing—the angry booming voice in his head notwithstanding. Discovering that Gus had been mysteriously replaced overnight was another (because there was no way he had regrown a fin—he’d double-checked every pet site reputable enough). Finding out that he had lost track of an entire weekend, accidentally standing up a date he didn’t even recall initiating in the process, almost pushed him over the edge—it had certainly dragged him to it, nevertheless.

Then the secret compartment in his flat, the burner phone and mysterious key, the countless missed calls from a stranger named Layla, who had sounded so deathly worried about whoever in the bloody hell Marc was…Steven didn’t even want to think about the second new voice in his, grave and severe and sounding a little too much like his own to be of any significant comfort, or the mummified apparition of a plague doctor, or Lovecraftian eldritch horror, or previously undocumented cryptid that suddenly decided to start haunting him, for that matter.

But Harrow was real. His odd little cane with the creepy, glowy eyes was real. The magic scales tattoo on his arm that moved without him flexing his arm and changed colors on its own was real. His followers were very, very real. That jackal, with the frothing, rabid, snapping teeth and the milky, glassy eyes and the malnourished, gangly limbs and the wicked, scrabbling claws and the deathly, musty stench was, somehow, terrifyingly real, despite having been invisible to the security cameras.

The security cameras that had captured Steven’s own grim scowl, resolute brow, and defiant, dark eyes—but it wasn't Steven, because he didn’t look like that, even though he shared the same face with the stranger on the footage.

Marc. His name was Marc.

Why is he stuck in my bloody head?

Marc’s property damage, somehow having managed to kill the ghastly creature, if the lack of physical remains and other evidence indicated, and save his life ( ...their lives?) in the process—and at the very least, Marc had kept his word on that front—ultimately cost Steven his job. Several thousand pounds’ worth of property damage, in fact, which somehow Steven was going to have to be able to afford paying off (in increments, at least) to avoid legal prosecution—while also being suddenly and unexpectedly unemployed.

Bloody hell. The not-so-patient request to turn in his bloody nametag had somehow stung more than the pamphlet handed to him boasting the most excellent psychiatric care in the city.

(...He was mad, wasn’t he…? How had he not known? How had he missed all the signs?)

Left remiss with very few ears into which to confide, he spoke in Crowley, always the listening sort. He expelled his tizzied thoughts until he was able to regather them into some vague semblance of order, and decided his next course of action: to chase the one lead he had to hopefully deduce whoever Marc was. It seemed simple enough, although daunting. A simple image search would take him to the location associated with the logo attached to the keychain, perhaps the only source of answers to all the questions brimming in his harried head.

He wanted to know. (But should he?) He had to know. (...Did he really?)

Reeling with inconsolable stress, insurmountable anxiety, precarious emotions, and now the tumultuous internal debate of whether to delve into the affairs which Marc had warned him very explicitly not to, Steven turned to the only other person whose word he valued and trusted above all others in his immediate vicinity (save, perhaps, his mum).

It was mid-afternoon by the time he crept into the coffee shop, and fortunately it was vacant as a couple of university students breezed past him with paper sacks laden with books tucked into their arms and laughing raucously as they headed back out into the sunny spring day. Another barista was slumped behind the counter scrolling on her phone, so Steven knew you were stationed upstairs instead.

He picked his way gingerly up the winding wooden staircase, wincing every time his weight caused a plank to creak in protest. He avoided looking at the narrow windows for fear of seeing any more reflected shapes in them that he couldn’t control, eyes trained resolutely on his feet as he focused on regulating his harsh breathing in an attempt to manage his racing heart.

It was in this way that he ran right into you upon stepping into the bookstore proper. You carried a stack of new prints taller than your head and nearly dropped them all upon impact. Steven’s arms latched out to steady them and you, apologies already spilling from his lips before he could even think of a comprehensible reaction. “Oh, bullocks, sorry—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I should’ve been watchin’ where I was going— bloody hell, where’s my mind?”

“Steven,” you laughed breathlessly, recognizing his subdued voice and fluttering hands without even seeing him, “it’s okay! No harm done, see? Not a one dropped.” You lugged them over to the display table and set them down on the vacant surface with a soft grunt, swiping your sleeve over your shining forehead. “Whew! Updating all the new publications is a pain. My back’s killing me. I’ll definitely regret all this tomorrow.” You turned back to him, all sunshine and smiles with your terracotta sweater and the gold hoop earrings (clip-ons, he knew, because you’d never had them pierced) dangling amongst the loosened locks framing your face. “It seems a little early for your lunch break, Steven. Are you off today or have I just managed to lose track of time again?”

Your innocuous, innocently humored phrasing should not have sent him spiraling again, but…after the last week of hell that he’d endured, who in their right mind (because he surely wasn’t in his) could blame him for the already tenuous grip on reality he’d been clinging to with only whitened knuckles and sheer force of will?

Your expression fell instantly as tears welled more quickly in his eyes than he could reign them back in, slipping over his cheeks.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry,” he blurted, face burning as he reached up to swipe away the undeniable evidence of his breakdown—in front of you, of all people, Christ alive, he really was losing it—with the edge of his sleeve…to no avail. More tears followed immediately thereafter, blurring his vision, dripping from his chin as he ducked his head and buried his face behind his covered hands. “God, I’m sorry, I don’t—I don’t know what’s come over me, I—”

There was a split second of silence on your end, though he scarcely noticed it but for his pulse raging in his ears and the deafening roar of his thoughts deafening him to any other sound. He barely registered your urgent call over your shoulder further into the bookstore, muffled by the harsh rasp of air dragging in and out of his lungs faster than he could dictate. He was shaking all over, adrenaline coursing through him a kilometer a minute, and his knees were on the verge of giving out from beneath him.

The warmth of your fingers curling gently—always so gentle, you were—around his wrists provided just enough of a distraction to open his eyes again, almost afraid of what he might see. But as you tugged his hands away from his dampened face, standing so close that your clothes were brushing against his and your breath fanned over his face, your eyes drew him in and dragged his thundering thoughts to a murky but much more manageable muddle.

Your brow was wrinkled with worry, mouth set in one of the few frowns he’d ever seen on your otherwise sunny disposition (even when harassed to no end by customers of the ruder variety, although your customer service smile was, decidedly, much colder and not nearly as welcoming). Your eyes were brimming with questions, but you uttered none of them, only, “Come on, there’s a quiet corner in the back.”

Steven allowed you to lead him by the hand like a child through the winding, ceiling-length bookcases into a musty reading niche set up with a lounge chair and ottoman next to a window spilling golden light onto the floor and highlighting every mote of dust that floated through its brilliant stream. You guided him to sink into the chair with a light hand on his shoulder, adjusting the ottoman back to give you enough room to sit directly in front of him. Your knees pressed into his, and when he shakily extended his trembling, open palms with a desperate snivel most people would have found repelling, you only laced your fingers with his and squeezed his hands tight enough to let him know that he could do the same.

“What’s wrong, Steven?” you murmured, beseeching him with your fractaled irises—the sunlight was illuminating every last shade and striation of color in them, more brilliant a palette than the shade ever granted justice. It gilded the edges of your features and the sweep of your fawn-like lashes in gold leaf. “Did something happen?”

Boy, didn’t everything happen—all during one weekend, no less?

The broken, wet laugh that leapt from his lips didn’t startle you, but it did make him jump. He lowered his gaze to focus on your hands clasped firmly in his, studying the creases in your palms, the whorls and arches of your fingerprints on your fingertips, and the light, faded smattering of scars in between—all to avoid the magnetic intensity of your gaze. “What hasn’t happened?” he croaked, throat burning with the effort it took to speak without loosing the gut-wrenching sob clawing ferociously at the pit of his belly. “I can’t sleep, I ruined my date, I lost my goldfish, I managed to get fired from the most pathetic excuse of a job anyone could get for something I didn’t even do, and I think I’m quite literally going mad.” He squeezed his eyes shut against the sting, feeling more tears slip out and trickle down his flushed cheeks. “Nothin’ seems real anymore. I can’t keep track of time. I’m seein’ things that would make an asylum patient have nightmares, but then it’s all comin’ back and tryin’ to eat me, and—” He clamped his mouth shut with a whimper, dropping his chin to his sternum to shut out the intrusive thoughts digging into the back of his mind. He unconsciously ripped his hands free from yours and knotted his fingers in his curls just to feel the ache. “—oh, God, I can’t—it’s too much, I—”

“ Steven, ” you said softly, hands threading through his arms to cradle his face and to thumb away his tears as you leaned in and nestled your forehead against his hairline, lips brushing his brow as you continued to murmur in a low, soothing tone that pierced through the noise like Apollo’s arrow, “it’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you—nothing’s coming after you in here, okay? Just our quiet, little safe place. I want you to breathe with me, okay? Just a little, I know it’s hard to concentrate, but just try for me, okay? You can breathe between if you need to. Want to try? Okay. In…one, two, three, four…out…one, two, three, four. And again. That’s it. You’re doing so good, darlin’, just focus on me. Feel my hands? And my knees? The chair, your feet on the ground, my forehead. Smell the books, the candle, your cologne, my perfume? Hear the traffic outside, the music in the other room, my voice? Okay. Good. Look at me, Steven. Please?”

He raised his head, trembling still but not nearly as close to convulsions as he’d been mere minutes prior, and you interlocked your fingers with his once more to hold them between you as you drew back just enough to peer unflinching into his eyes.

“Good. There you are, darlin’.” Your gentle smile was as precious as molten gold. “You see the books, too?”

He nodded once, unable to tear his eyes away from you. Had you always looked so divine or was he still experiencing delusions?

…No. No, he couldn’t be, because there was nothing about you that wasn’t so blissfully, sincerely, relievingly real. You were just that ethereal. How had he never noticed it before?

“Okay.” You squeezed his fingers lightly. “Can you tell me one thing that you can taste?”

“My…my tea, from this morning. Ran out of oat milk so I had to drink it straight.”

“There we go.” Your expression tightened just slightly at the edges, scanning his own carefully. “Better? Just a little?”

“A bit, yeah.” He sniffled again, swallowing roughly and finally managing to look away. “Sorry about that. You know. For…breakin’ apart in the middle of your shop like that. You…you didn’t have to stop what you were doin’ just to give me a pep talk.”

Your brow furrowed. “Steven, you were having a panic attack. I wasn’t about to go back to sorting the BookTok smut table while you looked on the verge of collapse.” You shook your head slightly, as if in disbelief. “You wouldn’t have come to me for no reason, so I can take ten minutes to help you calm down. I’ve been running around like a headless chicken all morning and I haven’t had enough time to stop. I’ll be fine.” You squeezed his hands again. “I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. I’d fix it if I could.”

Oh, how he wished that you could. He’d let you do anything you wanted if he could just feel normal again.

“Do you want to talk more about it?” you tried gently, tilting your face down to gaze up at him through those utterly enchanting lashes. “It’s okay if you don’t. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, for whatever you need, whether it’s to listen or just to sit with you.”

He swallowed, nodding jerkily. “Yeah, it’s—just complicated, yeah? A lot to take in. I really don’t mean to be a bother, I just needed—”

“Steven Grant, you are not a bother to me.” You single-handedly stole the breath you’d helped him regain not minutes prior. “You can tell me anything, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I…okay.” He drew in a deep, shaky breath, held it, and released it in a hiss from between his chattering teeth. “I’m…investigatin’ somethin’. It might be dangerous, I don’t know. But I’ve got too many questions to avoid it anymore and I…I’m scared. Terrified, really. Everything seems like it’s fallin’ apart and I’m losing grips on it the tighter I try to hold on.” He blinked away another fresh onslaught of tears filming over his eyes with no small amount of frustration. “I feel like it’s my only option, to move forward, you know? I just…wanted to make sure I’m not hallucinatin’ everything around me first.” And that was the reason he’d come here, wasn’t it? Because you never failed to make him feel safe and secure and human, no matter the storm.

You studied him for a long moment, considering. But instead of accusing him of being a loon, you only tipped your chin to seek out his gaze once more—and he, like a moth to flame, was inexorably drawn to it. “Do you want me to go with you?”

The offer took him by surprise, but he knew immediately that it shouldn’t have. You had a protective streak a mile wide—he’d observed it in your fierce defense of your coworkers against irate and lecherous customers alike, as well as the thinly contained fury you’d only had enough strength to withhold in all but your tone when he’d finally vented to you about Donna for the first time. As much as he’d like to see you rip out her cheaply applied extensions one by one until she cried, he had made you promise never to start a fight with her. That you would offer first to accompany him to a destination he’d unthinkingly labeled ‘dangerous’ before anything else, regardless of currently sitting in your workplace that demanded more of you than it ever should any single person, reassured him—but he couldn’t ask you to get involved. He wouldn’t, because it was dangerous—whatever was going on inside his head (and outside of it) was something he was increasingly suspecting was beyond the scope of his present comprehension. The last thing Steven wanted was to get you hurt, too, just by proximity.

“No,” he said firmly, and your brows rose slightly. “No, I don’t—thanks for the offer, I really appreciate it, but you shouldn’t…I don’t want you at risk.”

“I don’t want you at risk, either,” you pointed out softly.

“I…” Well, shit. “...I know. But I’ll be okay. I think. I know! I’m just going to take it real careful and just see, yeah? It’ll…it’ll turn out all right. Right? Yeah.”

Your grip tightened, and your gaze turned sharper than he’d ever seen it, even at your most agitated. Deadly serious, with no room for avoidance—as if he’d ever want to avoid you. “Steven.”

He stiffened. “Y-yeah?”

“If anything happens,” you told him slowly, “I want you to call me, okay?” He opened his mouth to respond, but you interrupted him for the first time in the two months he’d known you. “I mean it. I’m not going to push my way into your business, but if you ever feel like you need help, do not hesitate to tell me. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he suspired. Why was his mouth dry all of a sudden? When had he started sweating? Was his blush as obvious as it felt?

You regarded him for another moment, scrutinizing his expression—perhaps for any traces of falsehood—before nodding and releasing his hands. You reached into your pocket and drew out your phone. “What’s your number?”

Steven recited it to you nervously, fiddling with the hems of his sleeves. You typed it in, saved it, then sent him a message that buzzed in his back pocket. (He never thought that he’d get your number in a context quite like this .)

The lapse of silence continued, stifling in its weight, until your expression softened once more into something far less grave. “...Do you trust me, Steven?”

The answer came without hesitation. “Of course,” he breathed.

Your eyes were so damned deep, he’d drown in them willingly. “All right. Just know…whatever you need, okay? I’m just a phone call away.” You swallowed, then glanced away for the first time since he’d walked into you. “I don’t like seeing you scared. It scares me. ”

He was about to apologize on reflex, but the words died on his tongue. He noticed that you, too, had started to fidget with your fingers, rolling a wrinkle in your jeans. He reached out and laid his hand over yours, drawing your attention back to him. “Where’d you learn that trick? You know, the one about the five senses?”

“I had really bad anxiety when I was a teenager. Had an acute spell for about six months straight that made me hate sleeping because the thought of waking back up to deal with it all over again the next day kept me up all night. I lost a lot of weight because my stomach stayed upset and I didn’t have an appetite at all—it took a long time to go back to eating normal afterwards because my stomach had shrunk.” You looked so vulnerable, uncomfortable with baring yourself just a little bit more to his sympathetic gaze, but doing it anyway—all for his undeserving benefit. He squeezed your hand, this time. “I did a lot of research at the time to find ways to mitigate it. Figuring out the biological basis of it helped me to rationalize my triggers and responses so I could understand how to manage it better. It’s fight, flight, or freeze at its most dire state—so once I learned that, I was able to talk myself down by convincing myself I was safe.” You traced the roughness of his palm, and a flicker of something passed over your face before he could register it. “That trick isolates stimuli so you can focus.”

“That…that makes sense. I’ll have to remember that one.” He cleared his throat quietly. He hadn’t known—you hadn’t told him any of that before, never had indicated that you’d had such a rough time of your anxiety that you so often made light of in passing. “I’m so sorry you went through that. It sounds horrible.”

“It was. But it taught me to be more aware of how my mind and body work, if nothing else. And despite all the hardships, I never looked for a way out, just…a way through. And I did get through it.” You sat up a little straighter, cleared your throat, and glanced through the bookshelves before you returned your attention to him. “Are you sure you don’t need me to…?”

“I’m not going to ask you to play hookey for me,” he told you, smiling and using what was hopefully a playful tone. It seemed to work, because the tension in your shoulders eased a bit. “I will let you know if I need you.”

“Promise?” you prompted, extending the pinky of your free hand.

“Pinky promise,” he assured, linking his with yours and marveling at how petite you really were, dwarfed by the breadth of him. He’d never really noticed that, before, either. (How had he not?) “I’ll let you know what I find out, yeah? Once I get it all straight in my noggin’.”

You nodded as you both stood and started to weave your way through the labyrinth back to the main area of the bookstore. “I’m holding you to that, Steven Grant. If I don’t hear from you I’ll be putting out a search warrant.”

“I don’t think it’ll be that bad,” he fibbed—just a little, because he hated seeing you worry like this. He’d evidently never really given you good reason to worry about him before, and he felt immeasurably guilty despite the comfort you’d brought him. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Sounds good.” You flashed him a small smile, less enthusiastic than usual. “Now that you’re not working, we could actually eat together since my lunch break’s always later.”

Tentative, as though you didn’t want to send him over the edge again. He appreciated it more than you’d ever know.

“I’ll be here. Just give me about a fifteen minute heads-up so I can make it on time?”

“Will do.” As he approached the exit, you reached out and brushed your fingertips along the blade of his hand, arresting him on the spot. “Steven. Please be careful.” You glanced over at the other clerk with his back turned towards the pair of you, organizing the table you’d abandoned in favor of bringing Steven down from the brink. “I care a lot about you,” you confessed softly. “I don’t ever want to see you get hurt.”

Steven sucked in a sharp, shaky breath, folding his hands over his stomach on reflex. His body sagged and his heart puddled into the pit of his belly. “I care a lot about you, too, love. But you don’t have to worry about me gettin’ hurt—just think about the other guy! I’ll just give them the ol’ Grant one-two!” He shadow boxed to punctuate, and your quiet chuckle soothed his fluttering nerves. He stilled, then, and dropped his arms to his sides awkwardly. “...And thank you. Really. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t…you know. Likely would’ve gone right bonkers, yeah?”

“You’re always welcome, Steven.” You hesitated, fists tightening, before you reached out to grasp his arm lightly, only enough for balance, and Steven’s rattled mind struggled to keep up with your hurried motion and didn’t catch up until after the fact—you leaned into him, all sweet perfume and warm softness, to press a chaste kiss to the dried, tacky tear tracks that would surely leave salt on your lips. You were back down flat on your feet and a full pace away from him by the time his mouth dropped open, and your embarrassment was glaringly obvious. “Take care. For me?”

“Of course, love,” he said softly, watching perplexedly as you nodded, mouth thinning, before you darted around behind a bookcase and out of sight.

Oh. You were shy.

Steven pressed his fingertips to his tingling cheek all the way down the stairs, stumbling a couple of times before he convinced himself to get a grip before he did break his promise and accidentally kill himself not two minutes after the fact. He floated through the coffee shop back onto the street, sinking his back against the wall, and closed his eyes to reclaim his breath.

The first genuine smile of unfettered delight he’d had in what felt like eons wormed onto his face, and Steven let out a dreamy sigh. He shifted, caught a whiff of your perfume, and realized that some of it still lingered on his coat collar. He resisted the sudden urge to bury his nose and to revel in it, clearing his throat and fishing his phone out of his pocket instead to start off his investigation by determining which storage company Marc’s key belonged to.

Your text waited for him, poised under his thumb. ‘Don’t be a stranger, Steven. Laters, gators! :)’

His cheeks ached with the widest smile he’d had in his life.

When the plane from Cairo landed at its destination in London’s biggest airport close at nine-thirty, well past dark, approximately two weeks later, Steven finds that he has never felt so tired in his (admittedly limited waking) life—even during the time of depriving himself of sleep in an effort to control his supposed ‘sleeping’ disorder. He’d…dozed, he supposed was the only way he could describe it, while Marc had fronted during the flight. Leaving Layla in Cairo had been hard on him (both of them, really), so Marc had needed some quiet time to himself.

Steven couldn’t quite find it in himself to blame him in the slightest.

Marc and Layla had finally squared things away after Khonshu had finally released them—both Harrow and…their relationship. While Layla finally understood Marc’s motivations for all his blunders (and him personally, more clearly than she ever had in their married life, sad as it was to say), they both agreed that it would be for the best to go ahead and part ways. Too much damage had been done, the foundations of their relationship fractured by all the secrets and half-truths Marc had kept, and he had shattered her trust with his noncommunication.

She did make it explicitly clear that the entire ordeal in no way stopped her from caring about him (and now Steven, she made sure to add), however—Marc’s relief had been palpable, even while Steven had kept quiet and to himself listening to them discuss everything in the dingy motel room they’d shared the previous night before he’d departed. They mutually agreed to keep in touch, because while Marc had freed himself (and therefore Steven) of Khonshu’s servitude, Layla was still working with Tawaret as her Red Scarab. Hurt though he was (with mostly himself to blame, he’d admitted), Marc was protective more than anything—and though Tawaret had wormed her way past his initial suspicions with her sincere desire and success in helping them crawl their way out of the Duat, historically he didn’t exactly have a healthy relationship with Ancient Egyptian deities.

He hadn’t spoken much to Steven since then, but Steven was okay with that. Marc was a man of few words, he’d learned, and Steven suspected that it was best to give him space—regardless of when (or if) he ever decided to talk about it. Steven would be there for him either way (figuratively and literally). He’d need to make sure to remind him of that fact when they were both a bit better rested and recovered from the world-ending battle that they had managed to win by the skin of their teeth.

Steven hadn’t had the pleasure of knowing Layla very long—and while perhaps some of his initial attraction to her could have been attributed to him inheriting at least some of Marc’s own memories, feelings, and familiarity via sharing the body, Steven was grateful that they could remain friends, at least—it spoke lengths of how close she and Marc truly had been, for her to still be willing to stay in contact despite everything that had happened. She’d made sure to send them both off with a tight, rocking hug for each of them, pressing a tender kiss to either cheek as they had seamlessly traded places per her request without so much as a shudder.

“Take care of him, okay, Steven? And you stay safe, too,” she’d murmured into his ear, her mirth belied by her melancholy. She’d paused, then reached up to adjust the lapels of Marc’s jacket lying crooked across his clavicle. “I trust you to do what I couldn’t.”

“I’ll certainly try my best,” he’d returned with a timid smile as she’d drawn away with sparkling eyes not only from fondness. He’d tried to ignore the stinging in his as he’d cleared his throat of the quiver that had threatened to creep into the back of his throat. “He’s a bit of a git when it comes to lookin’ after himself, yeah? But I’m kind of stuck with him, so…good to try to make the best of it, you know.”

“Thank you.” She’d seemed earnest in her gratitude, then, easing back another half-step. “For helping us. I owe you more than I fear I could ever fully repay.”

“You don’t owe me a thing,” he’d returned easily. He liked Layla—perhaps, in another life, he could have loved her, too, if things had turned out different, or if Marc had given him the opportunity. Marc’s envious accusations at the dig sight hadn’t hit quite so close to home as to ever confirm such feelings in himself—she was still virtually a stranger, in spite of him fearing for her life and trusting her with his without hesitation—so while he ached to see things between her and Marc end like they had, all he could focus on was that he was thankful they’d had the opportunity to meet. “You take care of yourself, too, all right? Don’t get into too much trouble kickin’ tail and takin’ names.”

She’d let out a wet laugh at that, not-so-subtly swiping at her eyes. “I will, Steven,” she’d said, and then Marc had taken over.

Until now, anyway.

Steven understood completely why Marc needed some time to himself after all that—perhaps better than anyone. It was why he was extremely grateful that, once all the process of checking out and fetching luggage was done, Marc receded in silence to the back of their shared headspace and left Steven standing at the front entrance of the airport with a flagged cab waiting expectantly for him on the drive below.

He hefted Marc’s duffel a little higher on his shoulder, curling his hands around the strap, and descended the steps quickly. He settled into the back seat, wrinkling his nose a bit at the faint but pungent scents of sweat, alcohol, and puke lingering there.

“Where to, mate?” asked the cab driver, sounding as bored as Steven would admittedly be if he had to drive people dead on their feet home in such dreary weather as this—it had stopped raining, thankfully, but mist still hung in the air and puddles littered the ground, causing any nearby lights to glisten and glitter off the wet surfaces.

Steven hesitated.

He…hadn’t really thought this far ahead, admittedly. He realized with a start that he hadn’t been home since Harrow’s cop friends…lackies… whatever had snatched him under the guise of a real investigation and arrest. It was probably a mess after they had ransacked it. It would be a miracle if not-Gus was still alive. He’d be lucky if none of his nosy neighbors had broken in to pilfer his things.

Steven fiddled with the strap pensively, evidently taking too long for the cabbie’s thinning patience. “Hear me, mate? Where do you need to go?”

It was almost instinct, the way that the coffee shop’s address spilled from his lips with some embarrassment—embedded into his memory since he’d ordered rides there on his days off. The cabbie flicked on the meter and took off once he’d entered it into his phone, and Steven tried to suppress his flustered response at agitating the man because what harm had he caused by waiting a moment longer than what was considered punchy? Nothing. It wasn’t Steven’s fault that the man was irritable. (What cabbie worth his salt relied on Google Maps, anyway? But then again, what cabbie worth his salt couldn’t be bothered to order a deep enough clean after toting about what must have been the cataclysmic aftermath of one hell of a stag party?)

Seeing and doing everything he had in Egypt had given Steven a slightly different outlook both about people in general as well as himself. People were, mostly, harmless—unless they were trying to resurrect and put into power an entombed goddess of destruction, anyway—so what difference did it make that Steven existed in the same place and time as them? It didn’t give them the excuse to be rude or dismissive or critical. Plus…while they’d given up that fancy healing armor (and that rather snazzy suit, unfortunately), Steven could still defend himself if need be. He had access to Marc’s muscle memory now that no more barriers stood between their psyches—he’d held his own against Arthur bleedin’ Harrow quite well, if he did say so himself, thank you very much. He’d still have to get used to the motions, sure, but…never before had he felt more capable and assured in his own abilities. He had Marc to thank for that.

Even still, as he steadied his breathing and calmed his heart, Steven frowned and directed his gaze out of the window to focus on the streets rolling by outside. The coffee shop didn’t close until ten, and you usually didn’t make it out while locking up until ten-fifteen. But because Marc had left Steven’s phone in London (in his storage locker while getting supplies, Steven suspected), Steven had been unable to contact you at all. Given the domino's effects following him leaving the coffee shop in pursuit of Marc’s unit, he hadn’t had time enough to memorize your number (and believe him, under any other circumstances, he would have done so as soon as he would have had the chance). He’d promised you lunch the next day, as well as to check in to let you know he was all right, but by the time Steven had woken back up post-jackal boxing extravaganza, he’d had to deal with Marc’s…less than ideal interrogation techniques.

Things only had…devolved from there. Steven really and truly didn’t care to give any of it much more thought—not until later, when he could see clearly without his eyelids drifting shut.

Steven wrung the hem of the jacket’s sleeves between his fingers, worrying the inside of his cheek while he did so. Even throughout…all of that…Steven had found his thoughts straying inevitably—gravitized, perhaps—back to you, over and over, no matter how hard he’d tried to concentrate on…well, you know, saving the world. Even when he’d been distracted, and terrified, and fighting for his life, he’d recalled snippets of memory so visceral he’d glanced over his shoulder more than once to make sure he was just imagining things.

Your features drenched in sunlight like a goddess in your own right. Your eyes glittering as you tittered in genuine mirth at once his silly little jokes he cringed over every time he departed from your reassuring company. Your smile warming him inside as much as your meticulously brewed teas did going down. Your lilted, soothing drawl, the shape your mouth formed as you’d snowball into a lecture on how ridiculous all the internet conspiracies about aliens building the pyramids because the Egyptians were too primitive to accomplish such feats but the Romans were esteemed geniuses of their time with all their architectural novelties, the unfettered passion that brought such vivacity to your normally demure, soft-spoken demeanor.

He had missed you. Terribly so. More than he would’ve expected, but he was unsurprised.

You’d no doubt have loved to have seen Egypt with your own eyes—you’d confessed your daydreams about it to Steven on a couple of different occasions, had told him how long you’d wanted to take a vacation there to visit all the sights and witness them for yourself. You’d shared, mortified and only after some gentle prodding on his part, that you’d even constructed an itinerary, once, complete with hypothetical flight times, prices, and locations, hotel reservations and rates, eateries recommended by locals, starting from the delta and traversing all the way up to Abu Simbel, as well as every notable tomb, temple, and archaeological site or tourist spot in between. “Maybe one day,” you’d said, so wistfully yet despondently that he’d wanted for nothing more in that moment than to sweep you up and take you there himself.

At the time, he had pictured your reactions to Cairo, Giza, and Alexander the Great’s no-longer-lost tomb with perfect clarity—your excitement would have known no bounds. You would have stopped to inspect and decipher each artifact and inscription if you’d had time enough to do so, ecstatic at the chance to lay your hands on such marvels (respectfully, of that Steven had no doubts). Steven would never have wanted you involved in such close and constant proximity to danger, but he’d still imagined it for his own sanity. You’d been his lifeline, in a way—even with his fleeting, misplaced infatuation with Layla—the thought of not making it back to London, back to you, was what had kept him going at the most harrowing of points.

As partial as you were to the mythology, you’d have been beside yourself to discover that the deities so long thought fabled—for better or for worse—were as real as anything else in this odd little home humanity called Earth. He’d sooner throw himself back into the ravenous sands of the Duat than have you anywhere near that bloodthirsty pigeon, but then again Tawaret had been an angel by comparison, so…maybe you interacting with her wouldn’t have been too bad.

You were his first recurring thought whenever he’d wake (whether he had emerged to the front or from slumber), and you’d been his last thought when Harrow had shot Marc—panicked, screaming, terrified knowing he’d failed to keep his word. When Khonshu had forced the breath back into their lungs, Steven had nevermore felt such relief at proving himself wrong.

He’d convinced Marc to loan him a little spending money, after all was said and done, and had visited a secluded marketplace to browse the vendors’ wares. He’d found a little statuette of Djehuty hand-carved from lapis lazuli, about as long and as wide as his index finger, and while the merchant’s asking price had been outrageous (and because Steven had no talent for haggling, try as he might), Marc hadn’t scolded him too badly for shelling out the questionable stack of bills. It wouldn’t go far in the way of a peace offering, perhaps, but he could use it as some sort of proof if things didn’t go over well.

You weren’t naturally a skeptical person, though, he reminded himself. You had taken him at his word during his mental breakdown without even batting an eye. You valued honesty and communication above all else, prided yourself on your integrity, and Steven knew that you would at least hear him out and consider his (rather implausible) story before you rejected it.

Maybe he could still salvage this. Maybe he wouldn’t have to give Marc one more reason to blame himself for something he’d claim that he ruined. You were a reasonable woman, driven by logic and intuition rather than emotion and feelings. Steven had always admired you for that, for your tendency to avoid taking sides, to play devil’s advocate, to balance and weigh all options, thoughts, facts, and opinions before daring to formulate your own.

A keen little set of scales you were, weren’t you? Yeah. If only you’d have been there, somehow, to help sort out his and Marc’s mess—it likely would have gone a lot smoother and faster. (Maybe they would have actually managed to balance before it had almost been too late.)

“Most everything down this way is closed for the night—you sure you want me to let you off here? Or would you rather me take you someplace else?” groused the cabbie as he eased to a stop on the street corner (because of course—why would any cabbie worth his salt take a man to his requested destination only to offer a longer drive if but to rack up a higher meter?)

Despite Steven’s increasing indignation (he was firmly placing the blame on his and Marc’s shared jet lag because he was just so tired and he would never normally get so irate by a man doing his job, no matter how lazily), he hesitated. Only the security lights were visible through the sheer blinds drawn over the windows to conceal the interior, and he couldn’t make out your shape at the till or anywhere else, for that matter.

Perhaps it had been wishful thinking to hope you’d still be there, or even on the shift for tonight at all. You’d probably worried yourself to death fretting about his sudden silence—no, scratch that, you definitely had fretted. Was he going to have to call the nearest police station to have them take down a missing persons report? Had you even filed one like you’d threatened to? Or had he inadvertently hurt you by what could in any other conceivable circumstance be taken as ghosting to the point that you no longer cared for his well-being?

The thought made his heart clench. It ached more than he might have been readily willing to admit. Oh, he had gone and messed things up royally, hadn’t he? The one person who’d actually treated him like a person (outside of Marc and Layla, of course) could very well hate his guts now. It sickened him, almost made him want to lock himself away in his flat and curl up under his duvet and hide for the rest of eternity.

But he couldn’t. Not on the off-chance you had recalled his concerns, had believed his worries, and still thought him innocent in the matter. Not if you were still waiting for him.

“What’ll it be, mate?” drolled the cabbie, muffled by a gargantuan yawn he didn’t bother to stifle. “I’d rather not sit here all night, you know.”

“N-no—I’ll stop here, thanks.” Steven patted through Marc’s pockets until he found his wallet, then rifled through the neatly organized mixture of bills until he found English currency as opposed to Egyptian—with enough for a decent tip, because Steven always tried not to be a knob. “You seem like you’re workin’ on fumes, mate, you ought to go home and get some sleep.”

“Sleeping’s for the dead,” he deadpanned, and Steven let out a breathless little chuckle as he shuffled out of the cab onto the curb and watched it round the corner and out of sight.

If only he knew.

The air was warmer than before Steven had been carted off to another continent, a bit muggy as the humidity settled like cobwebs in his lungs. He grimaced and unzipped the jacket, edging closer to the windows to squint inside properly.

Still no signs of life. Steven rested his fingertips on the dribbled glass, dropping his head. Marc still had the storage key in the bag, somewhere—he supposed that he could try going and getting his phone, but that would run the risk of the business not being open at all hours and require that much more time to charge the blasted thing back from the brink. Perhaps he’d be better off to wait until the next morning to try to sort his life back out—he wouldn’t be able to stand staying on his feet for much longer.

“ ...Steven? ”

He stiffened, straightened in an instant, and turned to see you standing at the corner, keys still dangling from your fingers after locking up and coming around the back. An impulsive glance at Marc’s watch told him that you’d finished up early—it was ten on the dot. Your expression, bleached by the cold ivory streetlamp looming over your head, was slack in disbelief.

Steven—despite having rehearsed over the last two weeks what he could possibly say to explain himself, to apologize for his abrupt absence and radio silence, to entreat you to at least hear him plead his case, to beg for your forgiveness and to seek it by any means necessary just so he could talk to you again—fell terribly short of his expectations as the moment came…and went.

His greatest shortcoming, that: his seemingly endless supply of words failing him when he needed them most dire.

“...Hiya,” he said meekly, raising his hand in a shameful little wave—then groaned internally and resisted the overwhelming urge to bury his face in his hands and pull at his hair in frustration.

Real chuffed she’ll be with a response like that, ol’ chap. Bollocks. I’m an utter pillock, aren’t I?

“S-sorry,” he floundered, face burning as you continued to stare at him with rounded eyes and a gaping mouth. You looked caught between fight or flight but trapped in freeze mode, every muscle in your body rigid as though the sight of him reviled you. His heart twisted, but he couldn’t find it in himself to blame you. He’d be right pissed at himself, too. “It’s…been a bit much, the time I’ve had. I’m proper exhausted after that trip. Not that, uh…not that it’s any excuse, yeah? I’m just having a bit of a hard time not fallin’ asleep on my fee— oof! ”

You’d moved before he could even track the motion. Had he looked away or dropped his head and closed his eyes out of humiliation? Had he almost blacked out again even though Marc made no sign of himself known? Or was he just that tired and you were that fast on your feet? (Of course you were nimble, juggling books and drinks all day long at a breakneck pace. Why would he ever have thought otherwise?)

He supposed it didn’t matter in the end, really, because your arms were coiled around his neck to drag him down closer to your height, your face was buried into his (no doubt grimy) neck, and your hands were trembling as they gripped his nape and threaded into his matted, oily curls as though your life depended upon it. Your breaths were muffled and warm against his throat, as were the tears that smeared against his thundering pulse, and it took Steven an embarrassingly long time to come to his senses and return your vice-like embrace with his own shaking arms.

“You scared the shit out of me, Steven,” you sniffled into his collar like a secret, voice tight and hushed with the ferocity of your feeling. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Steven swallowed roughly, throat tightening and eyes filming over with the familiar hot sting he’d been doing his damnedest to hold down until he’d returned to the safety of his home—but he supposed that he already had, so what was the point in resisting anymore?

“I thought I’d lost me, too, love,” he whispered raggedly, his tenuous resolve crumbling like sandstone as he buried his face in your hair and crushed you against his chest as tightly as your clothes allowed. His tears finally slipped free of his eyes as he squeezed them closed in an effort to shut out the world around him. He could feel your heart hammering against his chest even through all his layers, your earthy perfume saturating his lungs, your inherent warmth seeping into him so like the sunshine you epitomized in his mind. You didn’t give any inclination of letting him go anytime soon, and he had no such intention, either. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you murmured, voice cracking with the strain of keeping yourself in check, pulling your head back just enough to peer up at him with a warbling smile. The hand on his neck slipped around to cup his cheek in your palm, thumbing away the wet streaks trailing towards his chin. Your eyes darted over his features, scrutinizing, as though you were committing the sight to memory—as though assuring yourself that he was really real, really there, really corporeal and not an apparition. “God, darlin’, don’t be sorry, I’m just—I’m just glad you’re okay. Are you safe? Are you hurt? Are you still in danger?” You mirrored your own touch with your free hand, cradling his head as though you held the entire world between your fingers, stroking the corners of his mouth in reverent reassurance. “Where have you been? I tried looking, asking around the museum, but nobody knew where you’d disappeared, and I—I thought—” You let out a sob from between gritted teeth, quivering despite his desperate grip on your upper and lower back. “—I feared the worst, after what you said the last time I saw you, and I tried talking to the police, but they thought I was crazy, and…I’ve nearly worried myself to death wondering where you’d gone.”

Nailed it. Unfortunately. Steven let out a watery laugh, biting his lip briefly before tugging you back under his chin so you wouldn’t see the conflicted emotions fighting for prominence on the limited canvas space of his face. “Oh, love, I’ve been to hell and back,” he joked quietly (one you wouldn’t get, not yet, and one he didn’t particularly care to explain), rocking you from side to side and anchoring himself with the weight of your body against his. “But I never stopped thinking about—about coming back. To you. Not once.”

Your arms slipped under his to squeeze him tight, slowly but surely soaking his shirt with your relief. Steven was uncertain how long the pair of you stood like that, getting progressively more damp from the mist and more chilled from the cooling breeze, and finally he withdrew enough to tenderly pat your cheeks dry with the hem of his sleeve. You laughed a little at that, a frail but joyous little sound, and Steven could hardly contain himself—but you beat him to it.

“You look exhausted, darlin’,” you said softly, face pinching a little as you took in his drawn features. He was sure Marc had sat up through the whole flight, as antsy as he was—the body hadn’t gotten sufficient enough rest in so long Steven was surprised neither of them had yet to collapse. The deep purple semicircles marring the heavy undersides of his eyes were sure to be sights to behold. You traced his brow, temple, and cheekbone with a featherlight touch of your fingertips. “You said you just got back?”

“Yeah,” he responded, eyes fluttering shut at your gentleness with a long sigh. “I wanted…I needed to see you. To let you know I made it back, and that I didn’t mean to shut you out, and…to tell you what happened.”

“Are you sure you’re up for it?” you pressed carefully. “You’ve obviously been stressed about it. You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable talking about.”

“I want you to know. It’s…it’s important. To me.” He cracked his eye back open, taking in the minutiae of your features, too—you seemed just as bad off as he was. “But I don’t want to be a bother.”

You gave him a sharp look, and your last reaction to a similar statement he’d made rang clear in the back of his mind without you even having to echo your response.

“You just seem tired, too, is all,” he said. “Didn’t want to keep you up any later.”

“I’ll stay up all night if you asked me to,” you told him firmly. “Whatever you need. I meant what I said.”

‘I’m here for you.’

“I…could I ask one teensy favor?” he started, hating how small his voice sounded. “Just this once?”

You quirked an inquisitive brow.

“I…don’t really want to sleep by myself tonight,” he admitted sheepishly. “My place got broken into and…I’m not sure what it’ll look like when I go back there. I…I don’t want to be alone. Could I…?”

“Of course,” you said immediately, already reaching down and grasping his wrist. “You look like you could use a good meal, too—I’ve got some leftover minestrone that I could heat up for you. It doesn’t have any animal products in it.”

Oh, he could kiss you.

“I don’t mean to impose,” he prefaced, “but…that honestly sounds heavenly.”

“You’re not imposing. Come on. The bus will be making its stop soon—don’t want to miss it in case the rain starts up again.”

Steven allowed you to lead him along the street, perfectly content to allow you to guide him. The longer he went, the more difficult it was to stay focused. The late bus, one he’d usually been forced to catch when Donna had thrust him into inventory duty, was virtually empty save a couple of other night workers having finished up their shifts. You settled Steven near the back, setting him against the window and perching yourself in the aisle seat with a watchful eye directed towards the other passengers.

Steven found himself nodding off, forehead pressed heavily into the window, when your fingers tugged his wrist lightly. “Hey. Here, lean on me—I don’t want you to get a crick in your neck.”

Hardly conscious of it, Steven allowed you to direct with a cupped hand his temple to rest on your shoulder, sinking listlessly into your side. The press of your warm palm on his cheek remained as you murmured something he didn’t quite catch, too drowsy to recall anything afterwards besides the sweet scent of chai on your breath.

You roused him at the correct stop, and he managed to keep his wits about himself long enough to take in the new, unfamiliar surroundings. The university campus loomed on the other side of the highway, impressive in its splendor, and your flat was located in a nice but affordable gated complex that he suspected you’d chosen for convenience and security rather than luxury. Multiple other residences lined this side of the road, likely housing the majority of students.

“I’m on the top floor, but luckily they have elevators,” you murmured to him as you used your key card to buzz through the gate and unlock the side door to the main corridor. You led him through the place, let him lean against you while the mechanisms’ hum lulled him, and the first thing you did upon letting him into your apartment was have him sit on the loveseat. “Give me your feet.”

“Oh, don’t—you don’t have to do that,” he protested, even as you kneeled on the carpet and pulled one dusty boot up onto your knee to untie the laces. “Please, I couldn’t ask you to—”

“You’re not asking, I’m doing,” you responded mildly. “Steven, you’re a blink too long away from going comatose—just let me take care of you, okay?” Your lips thinned for a moment, conflicted, before you dropped your gaze to your fingerwork before tugging the heavy shoe free and setting it to the side and reaching for his other foot. “I missed you. Let me do this, please.”

He had precious little will to argue, lesser so to refuse any sort of doting you might decide to bestow upon him. Steven Grant was many things, and a weak man was one of them. “I…all right,” he said softly.

“Good boy.” You patted the side of his leg with a wry little smirk that did funny things to his blood pressure, removing the other shoe, and leaving it with its twin. You stood, knees cracking, and made a placating gesture. “Wait here, I’ll be back in five.”

“All right,” he repeated sleepily because he couldn’t help it—his eyes were already falling shut again. He became dimly aware of an added weight draped over him, but it wasn’t until you came back and sank into the cushion next to him that he jerked back awake and realized you’d pulled the heavy knit blanket off the back of the couch over him.

“Here,” you said, pressing a large mug into his hands. “I know microwaved leftovers aren't as good, but I’ll be lucky to get you to down anything before you pass out on me. Again.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, drawing up a spoonful and blowing the steam off it. It smelled divine, and his stomach pinched and growled as though it, too, had wrenched itself awake.

“Stop apologizing,” you said, eyes twinkling. “It’s kind of cute.”

“Only kind of?” he tried, slipping the spoon into his mouth. A salty medley of flavors bloomed over his tongue and Steven was convinced he’d been sent to Aaru after all. “Oh…you never told me you were a king’s cook,” he mumbled.

“I am a bit proud of my cooking,” you chuckled. “I had…tweaked that recipe, to see if you’d like it, actually. I just so happened to have made it last night.” You glanced off to the side, briefly, towards the floor-to-ceiling window that lined the far wall and displayed the heart of London in all its twinkling glory. “Good timing, I guess.”

Steven ate as much as his waning patience could stand before propping the mug between his knees and tentatively resting a hand on yours draped over your thigh. You looked back to him immediately, the only light in the room spilling off to the side from the kitchen and casting all but the curve of your face in shadow. “There’s too much to explain in one night,” he began with a sigh, “and, honestly, it’ll probably take me a bit to work up to some of the…worse stuff. But I did want to tell you what I figured out about my sleeping disorder.”

“All right.” You shifted and contorted to face him completely, folding your legs crossed under you and lacing your fingers with his. “Did you get an official diagnosis, or…?”

He tried to ignore that in favor of staying undistracted. (It didn’t work very well, and he squeezed your hand back.) “Well. Sort of.” He recalled the certainty with which had (sparingly) detailed their ‘insanity’, the clarity with which the Duat had conformed to Marc’s self-perception as an institutionalized patient in an asylum. “It’s not a sleeping disorder.”

“Okay,” you responded encouragingly, expression neutral.

“I have…well. We have…” He sighed, ducked his head, and scratched at his hairline. “...Have you ever heard of Dissociative Identity Disorder?”

“I took a psychology class back home, yeah.” You frowned slightly. “What, like…Multiple Personality Disorder?”

“Yes.” Steven’s eyes were drawn to your hand, and he turned it over to inspect the lines of your palm with his blunt, callused fingertips (no longer a mystery why they stayed in such rough shape, he mused). “I’m, uh…well…it’s harder to…to say out loud, I guess.” He faltered, then, eyes flashing up to beseech your understanding. “I want you to know that we’ve worked things out as much as we could, so it’s a lot better than it was, but we’ve still got a ways to go, I think. Just—just know that we’re sound of mind, and neither of us would ever, ever hurt you.”

“Steven,” you said gently, realization slowly dawning in your softening gaze, “I never once had doubts about that.”

“I…good. That’s good.” He swallowed. He’d seen the stereotypes in popular media just like everyone else ever had, and while Marc had indeed hurt people, his remorse told Steven just how little he’d enjoyed it (that being none). “Okay. So…there’s this little American man that…lives inside my head, I guess. Marc Spector. Bit of a twit when you first meet him, but he’s not a half-bad bloke once you get to know him.”

Steven paused, waiting for a biting remark from the nearest reflective surface—but your offlined television remained passive. He let out a breath of relief.

Your expectant, patient silence spurred him on. “That’s what I thought, anyway—that he lived inside my head, that is. Just started poppin’ up out of nowhere, tryin’ to scare me off of figurin’ everythin’ out. Didn’t realize ‘til later that he was just tryin’ to protect me and being a real sorry arse about it.” Steven pressed the flat of his thumb into the crease of your palm, feeling your steady, calmed pulse thudding against his skin. “Turns out…I’m the one living inside his head.”

Your brow furrowed slightly, but you didn’t interrupt him.

“He had a rough childhood,” Steven continued, voice carrying over into a rush, “lost his li’l brother. His mum blamed him for it…did some things she shouldn’t have. Marc…developed an alter based on a fictional character from his favorite movie.” He let out a shaky sigh, dropping his chin to his sternum. “Doctor Steven Grant, debonair, world-traveled archaeologist extraordinaire.” He cleared his throat, voice lowering. “I think I may have fallen a bit short of his expectations.”

He had only learned the terminology in the snippets of time Marc let him front while he and Layla were still organizing things in Cairo, looking up articles to learn more about their shared mindscape.

“I…remember our childhood,” he said, much more quietly, “but not any of the bad parts. He let me keep all the good memories. I never remembered Mum except on the good days. Learning all this…was really hard. I never thought…I knew I had gaps in my memory, but I didn’t think…I never figured it out until the wall between us got broken down.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “When…when Mum died. I didn’t know. Marc couldn’t control it anymore, and…things happened. He moved to London, got me all set up with the flat and the job at the museum, and he was finishing things up so he could…I don’t know, fall to the wayside and not come out anymore? I’m not really sure how that works…if it would even work, like that.”

He didn’t dare look up at your expression. You’d fallen completely still and eerily quiet.

“So…yeah.” He was whispering by now. “I guess that makes me the fake identity.”

“Steven Grant,” you interjected, voice low and calm, “there is nothing about you that’s fake. I don’t ever want to hear you say something like that again.”

He gulped, peeking up at your resolute expression. “Yes, ma’am,” he croaked.

“You’re the most vibrant, thoughtful, selfless person I’ve ever met,” you said, gripping his hand so tightly he felt your pulse in each of your fingertips—he wouldn’t be surprised if your prints melded with his. “You have filled my life with more joy than I’ve felt in years. I give thanks almost every day that I had the privilege to have met you at a time when I needed you most.” You leaned in closer, eyes sparkling like the stars faintly visible on the horizon beyond your balcony. “For whatever reason that Marc Spector may have created you, he did a damn good job of it. You embody every positive trait anyone could ever hope to have. You are undoubtedly one of the best men I’ve proudly called my friend. And whatever you went through, with him or without, I have no doubt in my mind that you are integral to him, a part of him he idealizes. Even if you’re an alter, not the original owner of this body,” with this, you tapped his shoulder with your free hand, “you are just as important and just as precious to me for it.”

Steven thought he had cried enough, but his eyes betrayed him yet again. Only a couple of tears slipped free before you were smearing them away, steadfast in your presence, knees pressed into the outside of his thigh. He sank into your touch, shutting his eyes in relief.

“You can tell me as much or as little about the rest of it as you want,” you murmured. “And I apologize in advance for anything that I may accidentally say or do out of ignorance—but I promise you, Steven Grant, I will stay by your side as long as you’ll have me. No matter what.”

“Even though I’ve turned out a little crazier than you may have expected?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood with such a feeble attempt at a joke—but the words came out a little bleaker than he had intended.

“You’re not crazy,” you stated, “you’re a survivor. Both of you. And I am so very grateful that you survived.”

Steven did not remember falling asleep after that. He did not remember you taking the mug back to the kitchen and turning the lights out. He did not remember you leveraging him longwise across your loveseat, a couple feet two short for him had he not already been curled up, piling multiple blankets over his lanky form and carefully slipping a pillow from your bed under his head. He did not remember you tenderly combing his unkempt curls off his forehead, gazing at him with love brimming in your eyes, and laying a lingering kiss between his brows.

He did, however, remember in perfect detail the sight of you slumped over in your recliner, facing him, wreathed in the most beautiful golden sunrise he’d ever seen in his life.

#fisara's codices #fanfiction #moon knight #steven grant #reader insert #steven grant/reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant fluff #steven grant fanfiction

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5t4r1uv3r · 1 year

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☆ Team Stan dating hcs ☆

☆ Hello everyone!! These are the first headcanons on my page, I'm so excited!! I apologize if any of these hcs seem too ooc, feedback and advice are always welcomed!!

Warnings include: projectile vomiting, pda, mentions of arguments, and mentions of death.

Characters: Stan Marsh, Kyle Broflovski, Kenny McCormick

Reader is gender neutral!! 958 words ☆

☆ You are, by far, the brightest star I've ever seen. And I never dreamed I'd be so happy that I could die - Lana Del Rey ☆

☆ Stan Marsh ☆

☆ As he’s grown older Stan’s habit of throwing up around his romantic interests has gone away. He still tends to get nauseous but you won’t have to worry about him projectile vomiting on you.

☆ The way he asked you out wasn’t any grand gesture, he slipped a note into your locker asking you to meet up with him after school. Where he confessed his feelings and asked you to be his significant other.

☆ Stan isn’t the best when it comes to texting, he prefers to talk face-to-face or in person. So that means lots of FaceTime calls, him showing up at your home, or him asking you to go over to his.

☆ Quality time is crucial to Stan, he wants to spend all the time he can around you. At school if you share any classes, bi-weekly dates, and hanging out when your schedules allow it.

☆ Stan prefers to keep dates simple, opting for trips to Stark’s Pond, either on strolls or ice skating during the winter, having movie nights, and listening to music together.

☆ Speaking of music, he has definitely written songs about you. He will also learn all of your favorite songs on guitar and will sing them to you.

☆ Stan will not be too big on PDA, he prefers showing affection in small settings. However, if you two are out in public he’ll always have an arm around your waist. Occasionally sneaking pecks on your cheeks and forehead.

☆ As seen in the past Stan is sensitive and jealous, so he’ll need constant reassurance and praise.

☆ You’re the main communicator in the relationship as Stan struggles to express his thoughts with proper phrasing. It has been the cause of disagreements and fights.

☆ Over all Stan tries his best for you, to be there for you, to help you, and to love you.

☆ Kyle Broflovski ☆

☆ In the beginning Kyle was extremely awkward around you, having difficulty navigating his emotions after failed relationships.

☆ Due to his experiences, it took him a while to confess his feelings to you. Trying his best to push his feelings aside yet he had many moments where he slipped up.

☆ After gathering the courage to confess he decided the perfect way would be to write you notes, poems, and letters that he would leave in your locker.

☆ The final note you received was to meet him at Stark’s Pond where he confessed his feelings for you.

☆ Kyle is a hopeless romantic so he’ll give you the world. Spoiling you with anything and everything you could ever want.

☆ He isn’t big when it comes to PDA, preferring to link arms, hold hands, and forehead kisses.

☆ Kyle always wants dates to feel special, striving to make them as perfect as possible. From moonlight dinners to picnics with your favorite foods, reading poems or books that remind him of you, and taking you to Denver Nuggets games.

☆ One of Kyle’s favorite ways to spend time with you is having study dates. His grades are incredibly important to him and he takes it upon himself to make sure you’re succeeding as well.

☆ He has always had a short temper and strong beliefs, he tries to control those emotions to not hurt you or cause any spats. Kyle wants to understand your feelings and views through your eyes, so he’ll set aside his thoughts and understand you before he gets his point across.

☆ Even though he will get jealous, Kyle trusts you with all his heart. His love is for you and only you, you are his whole world.

☆ Kenny McCormick ☆

☆ Kenny’s reputation as a flirt has followed him since he was a child, he hoped you didn’t view his attempts of getting close to you as that. At the beginning he viewed it as such, but as he got to know you better his feelings developed.

☆ Kenny was very straightforward with his crush on you, he toned down his flirting and playboy nature. Wanting to show you that he only had eyes on you.

☆ Taking steps back he planned how to woo you, dividing his attention and actions solely on you. Kenny vowed no matter how long it took you to understand his feelings he would wait for you, even if you would reject him.

☆ The day you accepted Kenny’s love was the best day of his life.

☆ His economic situation made it so he had to be creative to display his affection, he truly wanted to give you the world. This includes acts of service, making you trinkets, giving you flowers from a nearby garden, and saving up his money to get you nicer presents.

☆ Kenny is huge when it comes to PDA, he has to have a hand on you whenever you’re around. He especially loves having his hand on the curvature of your back nearing your ass. If you’ll allow him, he's making out with you, anywhere and everywhere.

☆ Cuddle or hug him from behind and he will melt in your arms. If you’re not hugging him, Kenny is hugging you at any chance he gets.

☆ Dates consist of talking at Stark’s Pond, late-night drives, stargazing in the woods, or spending time in your bedroom.

☆ Kenny is incredibly selfless, often putting your needs and emotions above his. To many life is the most precious gift, but after dying so many times he realizes that the most precious gift is the people in his life. You and Karen being the most important ones.

☆ Kenny loves you to hell and back and to heaven and back. Quite literally.

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tamaruaart · 5 months

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An introduction to my LMK characters :D

So I want to give you all an actual introduction to my LMK/JTTW babies-

So this will be that :) (Note: These are their lmk designs, I might post their jttw book designs some other time)

Zhaoyan "Zhao" Whang'e🍑

Zhaoyan is a Peach Maiden with the gift of healing that was passed down to the girls in her family. Zhao is very calm and motherly, she mostly just takes care of the plants and fruits from the Celestial Realm. However when she's not in the Celestial Realm, she's in Megapolis keeping MK company, MK and Zhao have a very Aunty-Nephew relationship.

Though she might seem social considering she's very good with kids and doesn't seem to have trouble with appealing to people, Zhao is very quiet and actively tries not to make many friends. This is mostly because of her past problems with her relationship towards her family and friends. With her leaving her family because of their mistreatment towards her, and the death of some people that were very close to her, who's death she still hasn't fully recovered from. But don't you worry, MK and Mei are working on helping her past these issues with the help of the gang™ >:)

Quanshuǐ Wǔ🌺

Quanshuǐ is a very warm and sweet person! She's talkative and loves animals. Though she is very sweet she's incredibly clumsy, often messing things up. In her past this lead her to be very critiqued by her fellow Flora Maidens, they would nag her day and night about how she just messes everything up. Because of this Quanshuǐ developed HUGE self worth issues and anxiety.... Or at least until she met Zhao

Zhaoyan was the sister Quanshuǐ never had, instead of tending to flowers who won't judge her all day, she was hanging around the many Gardens of peaches in the celestial realm. Eventually Quanshuǐ took a crack at people again by trying to befriend the other Peach Maidens as well, which she succeeded in doing!

The Peach Maiden's are sorta like her aunties now. She still has a bit of anxiety but for once instead of being around people who make her feel worthless over every single mistake, she's around people who love and appreciate her for who she really is :'))

(The sparrow named Huā is Quanshuǐ's best buddie. Quanshuǐ found Huā injured in the forest one day while she was tending to a rose bush. She took Huā to Zhao so she could heal her, and Zhao told Quanshuǐ she could take care of the sparrow because Zhao isn't the best with any other animals that aren't cats lol)

Yueliang "Yue"🌙

(off topic but why my man be standin' there like: 🧍‍♂️)

Yueliang or Yue as they call him, is an immortal Moon Spirit. He was born from a magical orchid that only grows on the Moon and after Chang'e- the goddess of the Moon found him she decided to take Yue in. Even these days he visits Chang'e very very often. Because that is his mama :>

Yue is a very silly and a "talk before you think" kinda' guy. He's very, very, very charismatic, respectless and chaotic. Nowadays he acts as a Jade Messenger because of his incredible speed. He delivers messages from the Jade Emperor to the other deities, sometimes he even delivers fake rude messages just to cause drama. He gets punished every time but he's just like "Yk what? T'was worth it. >:)".

Not to mention that Zhao and Quanshuǐ are his number 1 prank victims. He once turned all the Immortality Peaches invisible and the Peach Maidens & Quanshuǐ were just freaking the heck out, and he was just spying on them being like: Hehe look at them go :D

And ye, that's everyone for now! If I do make more LMK OCs I will edit this post. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you'll enjoy these little fella's as much as I do! :)

#monkie kid #lmk oc #lego monkie kid #jttw oc #jttw #lmk #lego monkie kid oc #monkie kid oc #oc #oc lore #lmk oc; zhao #lmk oc; Quanshuǐ #lmk oc; Yueliang

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yourstruleejn · 1 year

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six days of us

six days of a love story. from its beginning to its end.

⋆

pairing // kim taerae x fem! reader; other characters mentioned are hanbin and kim chaehyun on the readers side, and junhyeon and matthew on taerae’s!

genre // fluff & angst; university student! au; he fell first, she fell harder-ish; it’s based on six selected day6 songs!

word count // 14.5 k

tw // not too sure, insecurities in one’s own feelings but if there are any more lmk!

playlist // here (i recommend listening in order but i can't really tell you what to do so! have fun!)

author’s note // i‘m back!! so sorry it took so long but i genuinely loved writing this! it was so much fun, i tried to keep it kind of realistic but it’s been a while since my last relationship so i’m not too sure i succeeded lol! anyways i hope you enjoy reading and that it was worth the wait!

!!! reminder !!! everything i write about on here is entirely fictional and in no way am i saying this is how the people mentioned would act in real life! it’s all just pretend! ♡

How come when the skies turn grey, heavy clouds like curtains keeping out the light, we forget the vivid of the blue, the warmth of sun? How come when the winter months set in and the trees stand bare, we forget the rustle of the leaves as the summer wind hums the tune to July? How come when a person enters our lives, we cannot imagine our life not knowing them? But how come, once the same person leaves, everything reminds us of them, like a ghost coming back to haunt us, to remind us of what could have been?

1. hi hello

The smell of coffee, polite smiles, and the morning rush. It was usually around May when you noticed that the hot chocolates turned into iced americanos. An established tradition for your co-workers and you, was to buy the drink for the first customer who ordered it iced. A welcome to summer, a deed to make someone smile. Of course, the lot of you usually ended up giving out more than one free drink, not only because of miscommunications, but mostly because it seemed like the right thing to do. Thus, you and the other employees were more grateful than ever that your boss was as lenient as he was, usually laughing it off, and popping an ice cube in his steaming hot cappuccino as a gesture. Nevertheless, he was sure to give a stern warning (or a friendly reminder, as he liked to call them) to not give out any more free iced drinks once the first week of May had passed. You usually just smiled at your phone as the yearly text made all of your phones whistle in unison.

The first Friday of May was here and with it you had hoped a comfortably busy day at work. The weather was embracing the light mood of the university students running around near campus, and you were convinced more than one of them would crave an iced beverage of some sort.

You had been cleaning the espresso machine, making sure everything was bound to run smoothly for your next order, when the serenity of the afternoon made itself known to you: No customers were queuing for their orders, the inside-tables of the small coffee shop were empty, the ones outside just as unoccupied, which was due to the unexpectedly harsh sun, who warmed the cement for the first time, radiating it back towards the already heating air. It was to be expected, the parasols were still packed away in the storage room in the back of the shop. Sighing you rested your head on top your hands looking through the opened front as the quiet outside world was conquered by the sunrays of early May. You could feel the cool of the counter spread onto the palms of your hands, as the dooming boredom of your uneventful work afternoon towered over you.

Very quiet, you thought.

Too quiet, you complained silently.

And it was unusual that nobody was here. In the two years you had worked at the café, the only times nobody had come in was in the midst of summer, and even then, there had usually been at least one person at a time. So, this was very odd. If Chaehyun had been here, she would have told you to not question God’s gift of a minute of peace and quiet. However, this wasn’t a minute, it had been minutes. Plural. On top of everything you enjoyed working as a barista, even if it was stressful at times, at least there was always something to do. Well, apparently almost always.

At the beginning of your shift, your boss had asked you if you would be fine alone for a few hours today, you had agreed reluctantly, as it could have very well gone wrong, but now you were glad that you had not insisted on anyone else coming in. You knew Hanbin was busy with dance practice, and that Chaehyun had been excited all week for a date she was going on today. Having one of them come in unexpectedly and then do nothing all afternoon, would have been not only a waste of their time but also of your boss’ money. So, you supposed, it was fitting for this particular Friday to be slowest day ever. Even though it meant boredom for you. Oh my god, this was going to be a long afternoon.

Time was passing three times as slow as it usually did. In the past 15 minutes you had been sure three times, that it was time you started the closing duties, only to realize that merely a handful of minutes had passed. You had grown so impatient with today, that you considered turning the time forwards, so that you could close early ‘on accident’ and go home. Of course, as an amazing employee you would never do anything like this ever, but it sure crossed your head once or twice (or three times actually). Sighing at the clock once more, you retreated back to your position with your head resting on the counter as you wait for the seconds to creep by.

Immersed by the ticking of the time and so busy tapping the rhythm of the melody stuck in your head that you didn’t notice someone approaching the shop, until the bell announced his entry.

“Hi,” a rather low voice greeted as you scrambled into your usual upright position behind the counter.

“Hello!” You smiled at the young man in front of you. He must have been around your age, maybe a little bit older, but that was judging by his voice. His appearance was sweet and youthful, his smile bright, his hair a little messy, but just the right amount. Charming. He was the kind of boy that would star in a Taylor Swift music video. Classic friends-to-lovers. You had to suppress a small giggle at the thought of it.

In the moments between his greeting, your greeting and the Taylor Swift fantasies, your brain still found the time to wonder what his order would be (it worked fast like that). Maybe something classic like an iced americano? Or something unexpected like a strawberry latte? You had been so bored, alone the thought of making a drink excited you beyond reason.

“What can I get you today?” you asked with a practiced, but this time more genuine than not, smile on your face.

“Oh,” He looked a little lost, you noticed only now, fidgeting with his hands in front of him, “I was just going to ask whether or not it was okay for me to set up for busking in front of the café?” He turned around, pointing to the small open area in front of the unoccupied seats.

It was a nice spot for busking, the shade from the trees making it cool enough to perform in the summertime as well. Your eyes darted to the guitar bag slung across his shoulder, lips caught between his teeth as he expectantly waited for your answer.

“Oh. So, you don’t want a drink, huh?” You really tried to suppress the disappointment, but judging from the look on his face, you weren’t doing a good job. Well at least you would soon have some sort of entertainment. And who knows, maybe he was so good, he’d bring in some customers.

“Do I have to buy a drink to be allowed to busk?” His eyebrows shot up, his expression changing from sweet to curious.

“What? Oh, no that’s okay. You can go ahead.” You smiled at him, nodding to the small square in front of the café.

He smiled slightly, determined to satisfy your need to prepare a drink for him, “Actually, I could use a little bit of a refreshment.”

Matching his expression, your face now showcased a bright smile as you handed him the menu. You weren’t sure if he could tell how grateful you were to finally be able to do something other than stand around and check the time, but you tried to show it to him by whipping back and forth slightly, stealing glances at him as he decided. You waited patiently as he studied the menu, tongue poking out between his teeth. He was cute, in a clueless kind of way.

Some time passed, but nothing compared to the amount you had been standing around until your saviour in the form of a busker came into the café.

Finally, he lifted his head, adjusted his guitar, slung over his shoulder, and cleared his throat, “Actually, could I maybe get a bottle of water?”

You were about to cry. A whole menu full of drinks ranging from coffees to mochas to fruit teas and smoothies, and this man wants a bottle of water? You were sure he could see the disappointment written on your face once again as he looked up from the small piece of paper in his hands.

A somewhat apologetic smile rested on his lips; he knew what he did.

“Water?” you asked again, just to be sure. Just so that you didn’t misunderstand and accidentally got the man a water instead of the strawberry matcha latte he just ordered.

“Uhm… I-Is that not possible?” A nervous smile was present on his features. On any other day, you probably would have noticed that the boy in front of you was quite literally a nervous wreck; Not only would he be busking in a new area for the first time, but his friends had also convinced him to go ask the cute barista if it was okay to play in front of her café, although he knew it was more than okay and even encouraged by the owner. Still, he did it out of curtsey, and not to finally have a reason to talk to the girl. He had had several pep-talks from his friends, as well as his mother (although she didn’t know what the peptalking was for), just to stumble over his word when ordering a water? Taerae, you really can do better.

“Water is free.” That interrupted his mental face palm as you smiled politely and pointed to the jug to your right. It was filled with fresh orange and lemon slices as well as mint to give the water a little something. Usually, the taste of the fruit would not be that strong as it would get refilled and emptied quite quickly, but today it had been standing around for a while, so you were sure it would actually taste a bit like the citrus and herbs floating inside of it. You supposed the boy would be in for a treat.

“That’s nice.” That’s nice?

“Do you need a cup for it to take it outside?” As you were speaking, you already turned around, grabbing one of the paper cups and a pen ready to write his name on it. You realized it was unnecessary to do this for a mere cup of water, but in all honesty, you were just as intrigued by the man in front of you, as you had been disappointed by the lack of creative drink-ordering; You wanted to know the name of the man that gave you hope just to take it all away from you again.

“What’s your name?” you smiled innocently, already setting the pen down to write as you looked at the man through your lashes.

“Oh. Uhm Taerae.”

You chuckled, “Okay, Oh-Uhm-Taerae,” you handed him the cup, “Enjoy your water!” you winked at him, smiling as he filled it up.

Taerae was a blushing mess. How was he supposed to perform in front of the café now? And also, why would he have ordered water? Of all things, he could have ordered, he asked for water. Wow. For a moment Taerae wondered if it was more embarrassing to play in front of here now, or to just leave and never set foot into this part of the city ever again.

Taking a sip of his water he set down his guitar and finally let out a dramatic sigh, he didn’t realize needed to leave his body right this second. There was not much to his busking set up, just him and his guitar, a stool, and a small speaker. Taerae used to have a booklet with all of his favourite songs, but he knew them by heart now, so no need to hide behind the notes. Matthew always said he would hide his face behind the pages, and when he first performed without it there had been twice as many people, not because he was better, but because people could see his smile. Taerae wasn’t so sure that that was the reason.

Today he seemingly would be playing for an audience of two. Himself and you. You who had been watching his ever move during his set up, as you were wiping down the already clean tables. If he hadn’t been so nervous, he would probably say this was his favourite way to meet new people. In fact, he had met almost all of his best friends through music; be it busking or the choir at his high school, or even just bonding over their favourite artists, music had always brought people into Taerae’s life. So Junhyeon’s theory to just go and ask if it was okay to play in front of the café as to finally talk to you, should have been fool proof. Count on Taerae to mess it up though. He debated whether or not he should text the group chat and ask for some moral support and customers for the café, but ultimately decided against getting teased to death by his favourite tormentors.

The sun was getting lower and lower as Taerae procrastinated starting to play. He could feel as the anticipation radiated off of you. You had settled back behind the counter, still watching him as he pretend to tune his guitar for the nth time. Taerae couldn’t hold eye contact with you for longer than an accidental moment, if had been able to, he would have seen the amused smile on your face as you sipped on a glass of water yourself. Taerae had his ‘Oh-Uhm-Taerae’ titled cup sat on the ground beside him. He had blushed even more when he had realized how you had teased him and was sure you’d get along great with Junhyeon once he introduced the two of you. If he got to ever introduce to his friends.

He was sure by now you could tell he was stalling, so with one last look around the area, and one last sip of his wonderful water, he strummed his guitar.

Music attracted people like honey did flies. Over the years you learned that whenever busking was held in front of the café, the customers would float through the doors, order drinks, and relax to the live music. But as the first notes of Taerae’s singing reached your ears, you wished that nobody would come to distract you from his voice. For the first time today, you wanted nothing but be left alone with the boy and listen, maybe sway through the small room a bit. But sure enough, the first song wasn’t even over, the sun hadn’t even retreated further towards the horizon, its light still bright and strong, not yet soft, and golden, when the first couple came strolling by, and after a short moment of weighing their options, the woman sat down outside, her attention undivided on Taerae, as the man came inside to order their drinks. You sighed softly as your focus on Taerae shifted to the coffee machine, it sound muffling his voice as you grinded coffee ground after coffee ground. Out of the corner of your eye, you could already see the next person enter the shop, still half looking at the performer outside. Now, it would be busier than usual, you were sure. You smiled softly, be careful what you wish for.

Taerae was happy he could bring you some business. He was also happy that your very distracting eyes didn’t linger on him quite as intensely as they did during his first song. It had been a successful busking for him even after his first struggles. The sky had eventually turned darker and darker, and the air had gone crisp with the last goodbyes of what once was winter. With more and more people leaving it was time for him as well to wrap up. At one point there had been so many people, it was almost impossible for Taerae to see the front of the store, making it difficult for him to confirm that you were still watching, paying attention to him. The awkward interaction out of his mind, he was happy to catch you look at him during any free moment of your now busy work afternoon/evening.

When Taerae started to pack up, the café was already closed. He hadn’t seen you leave, but there had been so many people around, he easily could have missed you. Besides, there was always a chance of a back entrance or something of the like. On the one hand, it was nice that he now could relax and not worry about embarrassing himself again in front of you, on the other he really wanted to know what you thought of his songs; Whether or not you liked them, if it was okay if he came back and played again, if he could take you out to dinner. The usual after busking questions really.

Zipping up his guitar, Taerae got ready to leave. He could still feel the guitar strings giving way and embedding themselves under his fingertips, that’s how he knew it had been a good session. It was quiet now that he had stopped playing, no spectators left but the first cicadas welcoming the night-time. Taerae would have just left if it hadn’t been for jingle of keys followed by a soft “Wait a moment” that caught his attention.

He turned and sure enough there you were, bag slung over your shoulder, hair tied out of your face, revealing a smile and gleaming eyes.

“Hi,” you smiled.

“Hello,” Taerae reciprocated.

You handed him the takeaway cup you were carrying, adorned with a neat ‘Oh-Uhm-Taerae’. You smiled as he raised his eyebrows at the nickname, his own heart swelling at your chuckle.

“It’s tea,” You explained, “I figured you could use some after singing all afternoon.”

He nodded, bringing the beverage to his lips. The stark contrast of the cool May night and the heat of the tea made him realize how his body had cooled down, “Thank you. It’s nice.” There he goes again with his nice. He rolled his eyes at himself.

“Well, that’s good! I can make more than water, you know?” you smiled, “Anyways, thank you for today, you brought in more customers than any other busker has thus far. In the name of my boss and his business, I wanted to invite you back to play again. Preferably Tuesdays, Thursdays, or Fridays in the afternoons. That’s when I work.”

Taerae should have acted cool and said something like, I’ll see if I can make it, or I will if my schedule allows it, but instead he just laughed and nodded ‘okay’. He didn’t trust his own voice right now; it would probably give away his excitement.

“Good,” You smiled satisfied, “Then I’ll see Tuesday, Oh-Uhm-Taerae.” You turned to walk away.

“Just Taerae is fine!” He was not going to have his crush call him Oh-Uhm-Taerae.

If he had been any smarter, he would have just said ‘Taerae’. In fact, if he had been smarter, he would have not stuttered saying his name in the first place. But Taerae was Taerae, and you were you.

So, turning around, but not stopping your walking backwards, you smile mischievously, “Alright then, Just-Taerae, see you Tuesday!” you could see his mouth opening and closing in retaliation, but before he could say anything more, with a slightly louder voice you said, “I’m just Y/N, by the way.”

Taerae watched as you waked away, smiling to himself, sipping on his tea, skipping on the way home. He had now been officially introduced to ‘Just-Y/N.’

2. i like you

Another Thursday, another busking event for Taerae in front of the café. It had become somewhat of a tradition for him to play at least once a week when you were working. After each time you’d come out with a cup of tea, which had evolved to iced as May progressed into June and with that spring into summer, and the chill of the nights was more welcomed as a contrast to the hot daytime. Sometimes the two of you didn’t talk much, or hang out, be it due to university or other plans, but most of the time you’d spend the better part of the night walking around, trying new food spots, or just talking and hanging out in front of the café, munching on the left-over pastries of the day. Either way, Taerae was glad to see you at least once a week, and thus the two of you went from strangers to close friends.

This Thursday in particular you had something planned, as you had let him know beforehand. Taerae was excited, a little bit nervous even, it was unusual for you to plan something, normally having Taerae decide what the two of you would eat and do. He was very good at reading people, and he’d usually figure something out that fit with both of your moods.

But not today apparently, today you had decided, and Taerae had no idea what it was so, yes, he was a tad bit nervous.

The daylight stretched until well after 8 p.m. and with the café closing at 7.30 p.m., Taerae made sure to get his guitar and busking stuff home before you were done finishing up at the café. He had been so careful with planning his schedule, that he now arrived back at the square a little early, you were still working, getting drinks to customers, preparing the last slices of cake in the soft pink take-away boxes, smiling at children, laughing at unfunny jokes customers made. He was in awe of you. How could a person be so dedicated to their part-time job? And it was not only at work that you were diligent, more than once had Taerae spent and afternoon studying with you in either your or his universities’ library. The focus you were able to uphold was something Taerae was almost jealous of. He was jealous of you because you still could concentrate, even if he was around, something he struggled with whenever you were in sight. He had also been jealous of whatever you were focusing on. What in the world could be so important for you to focus on, when he was right there next to you. When he was your… friend?

It frustrated Taerae to no end that he did not have the same effect on you, as you had on him.

Sure enough, after another few minutes of waiting the familiar jingle of keys rushed Taerae out of his head, back down to earth. Back down to real you, not head you. He liked both versions equally, so he wasn’t complaining.

You grinned at him as you made your way towards the boy, “Hi.”

“Hello,” he greeted with suspicion. The expression on your face was foreign, but it really couldn’t mean anything good for Taerae, as it reminded him too much of Junhyeon’s scheming face, you were scheming. In Taerae’s head there were only two options; Either you were planning some intricate prank with his friend, or you were planning something sweet, far from a prank, and Taerae would spontaneously confess in a waterfall of words and your newfound, yet very precious friendship, would suffer from it.

“Why do you look so anxious?” there was a somewhat nervous smile on your lips, eyebrows scrunched up in worry as you handed Taerae his post-performance-beverage.

Taerae shook his head, “I’m not. I just don’t want to get murdered by you. So, before we go, I just wanted to remind you that my voice is a gift to the world, and if you are planning on un-aliving me today, that you’d be taking it away from the whole world and everybody would be mad at you.”

You looked at him, a half scoff, half laugh escaping your lips.

“I’m serious, Y/N. I’m sharing my location with Junhyeon this entire evening.” Taerae crossed his arms in front of his chest, awaiting your reassurance that in fact you were not going to kill him.

“What makes you think Junhyeon isn’t in on the plan?” you smirked, while Taerae’s expression fell.

This joking manner was one of the only times Taerae could look at you without his heart combusting or his eyes diverting as soon as they met yours. And while you were laughing at your very lame retaliation, he had time to take you in. It was beyond Taerae how someone could make him so nervous yet so at peace at the same time.

“Come on now, Taerae” you smiled leading the way towards the metro station, “have a little faith in me, yea?”

If only you knew the amount of faith he had in you. So, of course, Taerae followed.

Laughing and joking the two of you discussed all the songs Taerae played today. Thus far he had not played your request, which, like every time after a performance, you let him know by complaining excessively.

The station way bustling with people going home from work, students finding their way to their after-school-studies, and people like you; Looking for activities to end the day on a relaxing note. Out of instinct Taerae placed his hand on your lower back, guiding you through the sea of people towards the train as you were rambling on about this week’s songs and the lack of your favourites (although any song sung by Taerae was your favourite, but not that he needed to know that just yet).

Whenever you and him were together, you had noticed that you forgot the rest of the world existed. Not necessarily in the way, how everything else goes blurry and your focus was solely on him, but rather that real life just slows down a little bit. Whenever you were with Taerae, everything else just seemed less important, far away.

He, however, seemed always grounded. Even when you were excitedly babbling on, Taerae simultaneously smiled and made sure you weren’t in anybody’s way, yet still matched your energy and made sure to react to you. You never understood how he could be so focused on the rest of the world as well. It was especially frustrating because you could either focus on him entirely, or not at all; for you with Taerae it was an all or nothing situation.

The train was more or less ripping at its seams when you got on. You always wondered how so many people could fit in such a confined space and not get squashed. You had hoped that due to the nice weather and the rather late hour, it would have been a little emptier, but no, clearly nothing beats the AC of a subway. The hopes of a seat after a long afternoon of work had been abandoned a long time ago, as you got pushed closer and closer towards Taerae.

In all honesty, the boy was panicking. He didn’t know where to put his hands, what to hold onto as to prevent the both of you from falling at each halt the train took. His only hope was for the crowds to thin once the next big transfer point arrived. But until then? He wasn’t sure how to keep standing upright and breathe properly, with you this close.

“Y/N?” Taerae whispered barely audible.

“Hm?” You looked up at him, waiting for him to continue.

But just as Taerae started to speak, you saw the man behind him stand up from his seat. In an effort to not notice how close Taerae had been, you had heard him grumbling to himself how packed the train was and that he could get off at the next station and walk the rest home, but that had been three stops ago. Now that he was actually getting up, you had to act fast. The man pushed past you and in a swift motion you pushed Taerae against the seat, making him sit down with a thump.

You smiled at him triumphantly as his big eyes looked back at you. The man getting up and you pushing Taerae had happened so swiftly that, Taerae hadn’t noticed he had grabbed a hold of your hand as to not lose balance. And you hadn’t either, smiling happily to yourself as you stood in front of Taerae, shielding him from the masses.

Taerae however, would not have you stand when you had been the one working almost all day. He pulled you towards him, getting up at the same time. To spectators it might’ve looked like a twirl, a spontaneous dance on the subway. Well, as a result, you were now sitting and Taerae was leaning over you, satisfied with the change of position.

For a moment there had been a smug grin on his face, but it was soon wiped away by a blush, as he noticed a group of students squealing next to you, whispering to each other and giggling. You too had looked away from Taerae in an attempt to hide your flushed cheeks. But Taerae noticed. And he smiled.

From this moment on, the train ride seemed to go on forever. The crowd thinned as your stop approached and soon only a handful of people were in your compartment. Taerae had sat down beside you, taking one of the high-school girls’ seat once they got up and left, but only after they had made sure Taerae did in fact sit down next to you and not anybody else. It was kind of sweet. Still, you couldn’t look any of them in the eye as they got off the train.

Finally, your stop arrived and in a swift motion you got up. Taerae was excited too, he still didn’t know where exactly you were going, but now he at least knew the broad area; The stop was a little towards the edge of the city, where parks and playgrounds dominated the cemented roads. It was a nice change of scenery, and Taerae welcomed it.

Coming up above ground, he noticed how quickly the sun had set, the sky only showing remnants of the bright day at its horizon. You had stopped a few paces in front of him, finding it hard to regain orientation somewhere you hadn’t been in such a long time.

“Where to first?” Taerae asked, curious as to where you could be going this late. You had let him know beforehand that there would not be a grand meal today, and that he should eat something in between busking and your… date?

“The convenience store.” You explained, once you saw the small corner store you used to visit as a kid, “To get ice cream, naturally.”

So, the two of you made your way towards the store and after a few minutes of weighing options and discussing preferences, Taerae and you had decided on green-tea ice cream, and a caramel flavoured one.

“Okay, ice cream secured,” you smiled at Taerae exiting the shop, “Now, Mr. Kim, I shall show you one of my favourite places of all time.”

“What an honour.” He smiled as he tagged along, catching up with you as you started in the direction of a small park.

It had been a little later than you had anticipated, making it a little harder for you to find the exact spot you were looking for. The trees were practically pitch black, and although there were a few lanterns lighting the way, they were too little and too far apart to actually help a great deal. The gravel crunched beneath your shoes as you snacked on the ice cream and made your way further into the green.

“There it is!”

As soon as the small wooden pavilion was in sight you tugged on Taerae’s sleeve to hurry. He had to admit, he wasn’t sure why you were this excited about a wooden structure in a park, at the other end of the city. He thought it was adorable, nonetheless. Coming up the small hill he saw that the pavilion overviewed a small pond, where this time strategically placed light illuminated the water surface.

“Nice, is it not?” you teased, smiling up at the boy. Reacting to things with a quick ‘Nice’ had become an inside joke between the two of you, well for you mostly; It was fun for you, but Taerae usually just rolled his eyes.

“It is.” He confirmed, “But why exactly are we here? I mean don’t get me wrong, I absolutely adore being squeezed together on a train for more than half an hour and then sitting in a park. I’m just wondering.”

“Careful, Taerae,” you narrowed your eyes at him, “I could still murder you and dump your body in the pond.”

He laughed., “No but seriously, what is this place?”

“I’m not sure. I just stumbled upon it one day during my first week of uni. It was strangely familiar and when I talked to my parents about it, they said we used to come here when I was a kid,” you shrugged, “It’s nothing super special but I just wanted to show you.”

Taerae smiled at you, and you smiled back. It was one of these quiet moments you shared. Your friendship thus far had been filled with laughter and music and teasing, but every once in a while, a quiet moment like this made it special. Until someone decided to break the quiet, of course.

“You should have told me; I would have brought my guitar. Properly serenated you.” He pouted.

“No more serenating, I’m growing sick of your voice Taerae, for real.” You mocked, laughing.

This only made Taerae pout more, pushing your shoulder slightly.

The sound of your laugh faded, and Taerae observed a shift in your manner. The look you gave him in that moment sent a shiver down his spine and for a moment he wondered whether or not you had been actually joking about murdering him or not. You looked so unsure and serious, Taerae had never seen you this way.

In your life, not many days had gone your way. You weren’t sure if there were going to be a lot in the future that would. But you really needed today to go your way. Needless to say, you were worried. Of course, there had been another reason you had brought Taerae here; It wasn’t simply because you wanted to show him one of your favourite places, it was a reason as well, but not the only one. But now that you had to put your plan into action, you worried. You had been scared of your body reacting this way just before this moment. Your throat had dried up and your hands were slightly shaking and your heart, oh dear, your heart was going as fast as ever. Maybe you should just cancel the original plan and just, come up with a plan B? Was this a good idea? Did you really need to do this now?

If anything, the troublesome journey here had only confirmed your plans for today. So yes, you really had to get it off your chest, you quite literally couldn’t keep it in anymore. From the moment you saw Taerae today, to you grabbing his hand and not letting go (as if that was on accident), from the highschoolers, and everyone else on the train, as well as in your co-workers and friends, seeing what was right in front of your eyes. You just really had to tell Taerae.

“Hey, actually, there’s another reason I brought you here,” you forced a reassuring smile onto your lips, as to not worry Taerae.

You were terribly failing at not worrying Taerae; As his mind raced through all his possible wrong doings so that he could predict what horrible thing you were going to say, he kept quiet and anxiously waited for you to continue.

“Well, I wanted to bring you here because, I mainly associate this place with incredibly happy memories and I just wanted that to be a good omen, I guess.” You were stalling. You knew that. Taerae probably knew that.

But Taerae also felt relief. It can’t be anything horrendous when you want this place to be a canvas for good memories right? No, right?

Taerae didn’t say anything. He watched your every move as you turned towards the dark that spread across the small body of water. He heard you let out a deep sigh.

This might go incredibly wrong. It might go amazingly right. Either way, you had to say it.

“Taerae,” you started finally turning to the boy, “There’s no going back after I say this, but just know that it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I just need to tell you, okay?”

A small smile spread across his face. Oh my god. He knew where this was going. He definitely wanted it to go there. He nodded for you to continue. In the moments between his motion and you starting to speak he thought about how he had failed as a musician. He sang love songs as a passion, he had been singing them as a hobby for years, he studied music at university, he was pouring out his heart to anyone who would listen, confessing to you every Tuesday, Thursday, Friday afternoon through the one language he knew, the one language that felt safe to him. Yet, here you were, about to confess to the boy who had been singing to you for weeks-

“I like you. As more than a friend.” You offered him a nervous, crooked smile. The words leaving you lips much faster than you had anticipated.

“That’s such a relief.” He answered.

“Huh?” You looked almost scared, the blood draining from your face. Was this his way of rejecting you? No, he didn’t look apologetic at all, no pity in his eyes.

“That means all the love songs I’ve been performing have not been in vain.” He smiled taking a step towards you, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “I like you, Y/N. And I’ve been trying to hold it in, so you can’t even begin to imagine how happy I am that I can finally tell you.”

If it were possible for human eyes to form themselves into hearts, yours would have changed by now. Whatever this man triggered within you, made your heart overflow with feelings, “Thank god.” You answered, making both him and you laugh.

In your nerves and relief and happiness, you hadn’t realized how impossibly close he was by now, even closer than he had been on the subway. You could feel his breath on your face and the warmth of his hand on your cheek. One last smile spread across Taerae’s lips before he finally leaned in to connect your lips to his. You met him in the last millimetres, eager to finally kiss.

It wasn’t perfect by normal standards; The two of you laughed and smiled into each other. You were a little awkward with your limbs, and a little too out of breath to be still considered sexy. Still, it was perfect because it was just the two of you. It was perfect because it was Taerae. It was perfect because it was you. It was perfect because you liked him, and he liked you.

The night was calm and cool when you and Taerae first shared a kiss. The sun had set, and the stars were watching, as your friendship bloomed into love.

3. when you love someone

Summer had been long and lovely, and now Autumn was just around the corner; it was so close, you wouldn’t be surprised if all the leaves had changed colour once you got off this never-ending shift. Taerae’s eyes followed your body as it moved from table to table with full drinks and plates with pastries and then back to the counter with empty dishes and new orders. The memory of the quiet café on the day the two of you first met, was a picture unimaginable, as the small interior was now buzzing with customers. To think you had wished for more customers on that fateful afternoon, when now you hoped the swarm of people would just evaporate in front of your eyes. To describe this time of the year as hectic would be an understatement; Just before university started up again, the café turned into a spot for last goodbyes between parents and now young adults, as well as spot for catching up after the long summer months for friends, who had come to return to their studies.

Taerae had been waiting for quite some time, he was lucky enough to had spot a free table, right when he arrived to pick you up. He had also been lucky since he didn’t actually have to queue for his drink; Taerae, just like all the other significant others of the employees, got the boyfriend/girlfriend treatment; Their drink of choice waiting for them as soon as they entered. By now, you were sure he had finished his drink, even though you hadn’t finished work. You were supposed to get off half an hour ago, but with the floods of people coming through your doors, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave Chaehyun and Hanbin alone, feeling the responsibility as the longest and most experienced worker, as well as the burden of being a good friend heavy on your shoulders.

Not only that, but also your boss had spontaneously decided to go on vacation a week ago and had left you in charge. Although it had felt good to be entrusted with this responsibility, you had not anticipated the amount of work it would mean. You had worked almost every day, having to postpone meetups and get-togethers with not only friends and family, but with your boyfriend as well. The two of you had barely seen each other this week, and thus you wanted nothing more than to leave with Taerae and curl up on his couch just as you had planned, but apparently your customers had a different idea: Whenever you made your way over to his table, somebody asked for some special drink that only you knew how to make. Or the cash register decided to spontaneously combust. It was almost comical.

Every now and again yours and Taerae’s eyes met, and you mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’, to which he just shook his head, telling you it was okay.

In all frankness, Taerae didn’t mind waiting for you at the café.

He loved watching you. It was all the interaction he had with you for the longest time before he finally asked to busk in front of the café. He loved watching you so much that if he had to put down his three favourite things in the entire world, it would be making music, kissing you and watching you while you went on about your tasks.

There had always been something magical in the way Taerae perceived you; He had gotten to know you so well over the past three months you’ve dated, that he felt even if he was simply looking at you, he was experiencing something special, a unique feature to your relationship.

So, it was okay. He really didn’t mind waiting for you.

What he did mind though, was how stressed you seemed; How you always did everything for everyone, more than what they’d ask for, just in case they needed that little extra; How you clearly didn’t see when there was too much on your plate, and still space on someone else’s. Taerae knew that you tended to do everything by yourself, and didn’t want to worry anyone, but Taerae was worried about you. He wanted to be your resting place, to be helpful in some way.

So, when you had finally found a spare minute to come to his side, Taerae couldn’t wait to be of some comfort, to help make you feel a little better.

“Hi,” smiled softly at the man.

Instinctively Taerae’s hand snuck around your waist, pulling you closer for maximum body contact. You smiled as the familiar warmth spread inside your chest, making you instantly ease up a bit, feeling more at home on this busy day.

“Hello,” he greeted, smiling up at you.

You just smiled at each other for a moment, tanking up on some well needed calm and support, which only your boyfriend could offer. Soon enough however, your gaze was stolen away by a couple that had just joined the queue.

You sighed, “I’m not sure I’ll be able to leave before closing.”

“That’s okay. I’ll wait, I don’t mind. We can go to my apartment after.” Taerae hoped you would agree, but he knew it was unlikely.

Your eyes were fixed on the clouds outside darkening the sky, making it seem later than it was, “Hm… Maybe you should go now before it rains. I’ll come right after locking up.” You smiled at him, cocking your head to the side. A cute habit of yours, Taerae noted, but he could still see the tiredness in your eyes.

Pulling his eyes away from you towards the looming downpour, he was almost convinced. He hesitated because he just wanted to make sure you were okay and would get home as soon as possible as well.

“Okay. But make sure to hurry once you’re done, okay? And don’t get rained on.” Taerae said while slipping on his denim jacket.

You nodded confirming his words and promising to get home as soon as possible, “The rain will be done once I’m off, I promise.” You smiled.

“Okay, weather fairy, I’ll see you at home.”

He planted a kiss on your cheek and got ready to leave, the next occupant of the table already making his way towards the empty space.

It had in fact not stopped raining by the time you had cleaned the espresso machine and wiped down most of the tables. Hanbin and Chaehyun had left a few minutes ago, running towards the subway station, in the spare moments the rain had eased up a bit, leaving you to lock up alone. Now the rain was back to its full power, slamming onto the pavement, windows, cars, and soon you as well. You were afraid the small umbrella you found in the back of the locker room would not do much to keep you dry and warm on the short walk to Taerae’s apartment, but it had to be better than nothing.

The storm was just about to regain its entire might when you left the safety of your workplace. Turning the keys, you felt the cold wind hit your exhausted legs, sending shivers up your whole body, and sending more than a few leaves on their journey towards the ground prematurely. You cursed at yourself for thinking that late-summer-thunderstorms carried the warmth, that mid-summer-ones did. Struggling to keep the umbrella upright, you wrapped the bright blue zip-up sweater you had stolen from Taerae’s closet closer over your body. If there had been any more wind, you were sure would have been blown away.

In fact, you had been so busy trying to not take off, you barely noticed a figure hurrying in your direction.

An out of breath Taerae appeared in the far distance, his silhouette not only blurred by the rain, but also the impressive velocity of his figure running towards you. In Taerae’s hand you could make out another one of his hoodies and a definitely more sturdy-looking umbrella, more than big enough to fit the two of you.

His cheeks and nose were red, even more so due to the red fabric of the umbrella, but mainly because of the unexpected cool temperatures. Taerae hadn’t been home long when he had decided to come and get you once the café closed. A decision he now noted as more than smart, having witnessed you almost fly away like Mary Poppins.

He couldn’t help the smile as he pulled you towards himself, underneath the little shelter his umbrella offered “So, this is where my favourite sweatshirt has gone to.” He pointed towards the fabric currently keeping your body just a degree away from a shiver.

Unfortunately, you had been right about your umbrella being bad at its job, the sweatshirt now thoroughly soaked, “Sorry,” You smiled innocently, “But hey, at least it’s clean now.”

Taerae shook his head, granting you refuge and additional warmth underneath his arm as he wrapped it around your body, pulling you as close as he could, “You could have texted you know?” he whispered in your ear, barely audible over the rain continuously slamming onto the thin fabric above the two of you.

“I thought my equipment would suffice,” you confessed, although you knew your umbrella would have been unlikely to hold up to this kind of weather, “I’m sorry you had to come out to rescue me.”

“It’s what I’m here for, no? Serenating and rescuing.” Taerae smiled, his hair curling itself back to its natural state, “University student and professional busker by day, personal saviour and superhero of Y/N by night.”

You chuckled; he really was your hero.

Finally inside and in dry clothes, you let yourself fall onto Taerae’s couch. As soon as your body touched the soft fabric, the sleepiness started to set in. Between the bustle of work and the adventure of running through the rain with Taerae, your body had gone from low battery to out of it completely. The only thing missing right now was your boyfriend, who was making instant noodles and a cup of tea for the both of you, insisting that you had made enough beverages today to last a lifetime, and you couldn’t agree more.

The day had been so long, and just an hour ago you had wished for nothing more than for time to pass by more quickly, but now that you had actually had time to spend with Taerae, you willed the clock to slow down for a bit.

Now in the warmth of Taerae’s apartment, you didn’t mind the weather at all; The rain was still going, tapping onto the windows nonstop, and flooding the streets outside without doubt, but what did it matter to you now that you were able to rest with your favourite person in the entire world.

Speak of the devil; Taerae set down the bowl of instant noodles in front of, followed shortly by a glass of water and a cup tea.

“That looks so good, I could kiss you right now.” You smiled looking at food in front of you.

“Do it then.” Taerae turned his head towards you, expectantly waiting on the kiss you had promised.

You placed a quick peck onto the smiling boy and then started to slurp down your meal. It had been some time since Taerae had seen you so happy. It had been some time since Taerae had seen you, period. Not counting the café this afternoon, of course, but it really had been a while since the two of you had hung out alone like this. And Taerae would be lying if he said he hadn’t missed you. Just like you would be lying if you said you hadn’t been stressed out of your mind this past week. Just like you would be lying if you said you weren’t tired right now. Just like you would be lying if you said you hadn’t missed Taerae too.

“It was a really hard day today, huh?” Taerae’s voice was laced with worry, and it made you anxious. You didn’t want to worry him, there really wasn’t anything for him to worry about, he was helping as much as he could without worrying.

“It was okay,” you answered, a little too quiet for Taerae’s liking, “I’m just glad I won’t be in charge anymore next week.”

While Taerae believed that the majority of what you said was true, he wouldn’t have you downplaying your feelings like that. He sighed, “You don’t have to pretend with me, Y/N, you know? I’m here to help. I want to know when you’re stressed or feel bad or hurt.”

In the past few months that you and Taerae had been dating, it was made obvious on more than one occasion that your boyfriend’s love language was acts of service. Be it to drive you to your favourite bookstore, or to get you some medicine when you were sick. Taerae loved to just do things for you.

You smiled at your sweet boyfriend, your heart overflowing once again, “I know, it’s just… I can do this on my own. I don’t want to worry you.” You nodded to yourself, feeling a little exposed.

“I get that, but the thing is, you don’t have to,” Taerae took your hand in his, “That’s what it’s like when you love someone; I want to share the hurt and the burden and the stress. I want to do it for you, and I want you to do it for me,” his smile was faint, his eyebrows scrunched up slightly, “I’d rather worry with you, than worry for you.”

You weren’t sure what you had done to deserve someone like Taerae. Smiling you leaned into his side, resting your head into the crook of his neck, “Alright, I’m sorry.”

He kissed the top of your head as a response, triggering the warm and fuzzy feeling once again.

“Hey,” you whispered against his body, “I love you.”

Taerae hugged you tighter, engulfing you in all his warmth; the rain so loud against the window, the wind so strong, the building howled its tune, his words so soft they warmed you up from inside, “And I love you.”

4. so let’s love

Being in love was harder than you could have ever imagined. It was also simply more than what you could have ever thought it would be. It was more difficult, more intense, more complicated. But the more you felt it, the deeper, the stronger your feelings got for Taerae the more aware you got of your need for him.

Everything Taerae felt with you was new to him as well. In the past, Taerae had never had a problem figuring out how he felt, and he surely didn’t have any problems expressing his emotions. For Taerae, music had always been the easiest, most natural way to communicate. It was what brought him the most precious things in life: a purpose and you. But lately, it was difficult for him to encompass his love for you through actions or music. And he had a feeling he would struggle his entire life to put this into words.

The leaves had long turned brown, the weather had long switched from sunshine to frost, and Taerae had once more found his way home from a long day of classes, and an even longer week of not seeing you. Lately, he had felt something shift between the two of you, and he felt difficulty to raise the issue, to talk it out. He even felt difficulty to play it out, to sing it out, to just let his frustrations flow.

Of course, Taerae knew that couples fought. He knew it was normal for lovers to throw hurtful things at each other’s heads from time to time. He could list more than 10 songs that captured this exact feeling of defeat, when one hurts the person, they love the most. It was his hyperawareness of this fact, that made it all the more difficult to ignore the fact that you just did not fight.

It was not like the two of you would not have reason for conflict, but it always seemed like whenever the two of you were close to fighting, you shut down. Your passiveness got a hold of you, and you logged out of Taerae’s life until you were ready to forget about the reason you would have fought anyway. Whether or not you reflected and decided it wasn’t as big as a deal as it seemed at first, or if you just ignored the hurt, Taerae didn’t know.

What he did know however was, that this could not be healthy. Neither for you, nor for him. He refused to lose the love of his life over something such as the lack of fighting. All Taerae wanted was to love you. He wanted all that there is to a relationship, the love, the fights, the forgiving. He didn’t need perfect; he didn’t want perfect.

He was sure of his feelings for you, he had been for the longest time. Maybe he did love you more than you did him, but that didn’t even matter to Taerae. He was just worried, he’d lose you. He was so confident in his own love, he became insecure of yours.

So, on this day, on his way home from university, on his way to you, he thought about how maybe, he just wasn’t worth enough for you to fight with him. Maybe it wasn’t that you didn’t like to fight, maybe it was that he just wasn’t worth fighting with. And for the first time, these kinds of Taerae’s feelings made sense.

From the beginning of your relationship, you had been determined to give Taerae your whole heart. You wanted nothing more than to love the sweet boy to your heart’s full capacity. And the more you got to know him, the more your heart’s ability to do so grew. And with that your fear of losing him.

In your entire life, you had not really fought with anybody, ever. Of course, there had been disagreements and discussions, but most of the time you hadn’t deemed the topics worth fighting over. You had also had relationships before, none as serious as the one with Taerae, and they mostly ended amicably. Definitely nothing like any Olivia Rodrigo song. You intended to keep the number of break-ups you had had the same, although you knew realistically, the number of fights had to go up at some point, but thus far even disagreements with Taerae hadn’t proven annoying enough to fight over. All you wanted to do is love him.

You didn’t want to fight with him, or to worry him, or to hurt him. You just wanted to love Taerae.

So, on the day the temperatures had dropped as well as all the leaves, and Taerae used the spare keys you had given him to let himself into your apartment, to cook together, the last thing you had expected was to fight.

One look, out of the window and you saw the blanket of grey and white that threatened (or promised) to spill the first snow of the season. You had been waiting for Taerae to come home for some time now and had been working on some university assignments until the all too familiar jingle of keys announced his arrival. The first thing you heard right after the sound of the soft thump Taerae’s guitar case made when he set it down, was a sigh. And only then did you realize just how stressful the past month had been for the both of you. You and Taerae were both drowning in assignments and projects and that meant you spent the majority of your time in the library, as he did in the studio. It had been hard for you with work and university to find time to just be together, especially with a lot occupying both of your minds.

Communicating had never been your forte and you found it even harder to discuss your worries when the time you had together was so scarce. Taerae had been good at voicing his feelings and telling you when he was stressed but in the past days, he seemed a little closed off as well, so this sigh seemed to be a giveaway.

Still, worries aside a soft smile rested on your lips as he entered the kitchen, the table currently occupied by books and sheets of paper, your own little chaos ruling over the space.

“Looks intense,” Taerae chuckled as he made his way to you.

“It’s even worse than this looks in here,” you motioned with your finger to your head as you closed your laptop shut, standing up to hug your boyfriend hello.

Taerae kissed your cheek, taking in your scent. He noticed the hints of coffee scent in your hair, an indicator that you had worked the morning shift. He didn’t know you had worked today. You used to share your work schedule with him at the beginning of the week. Taerae knew you weren’t obligated to share your schedule with him, he wasn’t possessive like that, but just stopping to do so, irked him in some kind of way.

“You okay?” you asked as Taerae was staring off into space, and you grabbed a bottle of water.

“Yeah,” one look at you and he knew you didn’t believe a single word he just said, “it’s just the usual. Creative pressure and such.”

You cocked your head, the way you always did when processing things, thinking of what to say, “You sure that’s the only reason? You kind of seem a little off the past few days.”

He knew you didn’t mean it like an accusation. He knew that doing this, fighting, on grounds of you asking if there was anything else wrong was ridiculous. But Taerae also supposed it was as good a reason as any. Still, he didn’t mean the words to come out quite as harsh as they did.

“Yeah? You mean like how you don’t even tell me when you work these days anymore? Or what assignments you’re working on? Who you’re working on them with?”

One look and Taerae realized you were clearly taken aback by what he had said. Or how he had said it.

“I’m- I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had to approve my schedule. I don’t mean to keep it secret Taerae, but I’m not talking about schedules or shifts, or even university. Something’s clearly bothering you.” Your brows were scrunched up and arms crossed.

Taerae scoffed silently, “Why…” he tried to gather the words in his head, to make them seem a little less ridiculous than they were, “Why won’t you fight with me?”

“Huh?” now you were taken aback. “Why won’t I fight with you? Maybe because there’s nothing to fight about?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. I know you get annoyed when I stay in the studio for too long and don’t text you when I know you’re waiting for dinner plans or something. And I - I get annoyed when you just brush things off, but you always apologize even if there’s nothing to apologize for. Sometimes– Sometimes I just want to be annoyed with you and you should be annoyed with me as well for being annoyed.”

You frowned, what he said was true, even if you weren’t sure he was making sense 100%. In any case, these things just seemed inconsequential. Whenever stuff like that occurred you had been more worried than annoyed, sad maybe, but definitely not mad.

“What do you mean? I just don’t think these things are worth fighting over.”

Taerae closed his eyes, in the way he did when he couldn’t get the right chord combination, in the way he did to coordinate his thoughts, in the way he did just before letting go of a frustrated breath.

“See? This is what I mean. I just- It just feels like that to you I’m not worth fighting with.”

Now there was hurt on your face. Taerae didn’t mean to twist your words but it just, that is what it sounded like to him. This is what it felt like to him.

“I- That’s not what I said at all, Taerae,” Your tone had also changed. It was more straight forward, more matter-of-factly. Yet your eyes seemed desperate to just clarify this situation, so, you searched in his for some sort of doubt of his last statement, “You know that that’s not true, right?”

“I don’t know! It seems like it if I’m being honest,” his voice was just below a shout. Although it definitely didn’t seem angry, it was just as desperate as the look in your eyes. He tried to understand you, the way you tried to understand him, “It feels like whatever I do, whether it’s good or bad it doesn’t matter.”

“What? Of course, it matters. Taerae, you matter, so much!” You tried to hold the eye contact, but your emotions seemed to overflow, making it impossible to think and talk, but you tried anyways, “I am sorry, and don’t get me wrong, this is not me not wanting to fight right now, I’m just trying to understand- to make you understand; Never has anything you did not affected me. Be it negative or positive. I know we’ve talked about it but- you know I’m still learning, right? I just- I don’t want my feelings to be a bother to you. I don’t want me to be a reason for you to not do something. I just- I simply want to be a support for you. I don’t want you to have to worry about me and my feelings too, because I just- I so confidently want you. I just want to love you, Taerae.”

He looked at you, and you looked at him as you continued.

“Never did I mean to hurt you by not fighting with you. If you want to fight then okay, let’s fight. Let’s scream at each other and hurt each other, but I just- I just want to be able to love you through it all.”

You didn’t realize you had started to cry. And Taerae hadn’t realized how much it would hurt to see you cry. So, all he did was pull you close and engulf you in a hug.

“Okay. I’m sorry, too.” He was afraid of letting you go, as the thoughts raced through his head, as he tried to turn back time. He cursed himself for not realizing how much it sucked to fight. How much it sucked to hurt the person you love the most. “Okay, let’s love, okay?”

So, when the first snow began to fall, as it covered the rooftops and bare trees like sugar did pancakes, and a peacefulness settled after the first fight, you and Taerae decided to love each other, but also fight with each other, and cry and laugh with each other, and hurt and forgive each other. The both of you just prayed that you wouldn’t lose each other.

5. i loved you

An unexpectedly cold spring night put you in an incredibly uncomfortable position.

One would think that at the end of April the temperatures would somewhat rise above 10 degrees, but to your disappointment, they had even dropped below zero. You didn’t know what had come over the city to still be as freezing as it was, but you couldn’t help but think it was your heart that had conjured up the unexpected mid-spring-ice-age.

The temperature wasn’t the only thing that made it difficult for you to get out of bed. It was also a simple lack of anything warm in your life. So, on the morning of this especially chilly spring day, you rummaged through your closet to find one of your warmest sweaters, to try and keep your body from going into hypothermia on your way to your opening shift at the café. Trying to distract you from the shivering even inside your apartment, you thought about the workday ahead, and what spices you would throw into your free morning coffee, when your hand grazed over what felt like your warmest, snuggest sweater. Satisfied with the choice, you grabbed onto the thick fabric and pulled it out, but not without a few other items falling out of your closet in the process.

Cursing at your own messiness, you at first didn’t notice that the sweater you had pulled out, was in fact, not one of your own. You had even been so distracted by the mess that was now on your bedroom floor, that you pulled the sweater over your still with sleepiness marked head, and diligently threw the stray items into the closet, shutting the door before they could fall out once again.

Only when you caught a glimpse of your own reflection, did you realize what you had just slipped onto your body. Comforted by the familiarity of the striped sweater, but startled by the memories it brought back. The scent of its owner still hung heavy in its fibre. You stopped to look at yourself in such a familiar, yet strange item of clothing.

If anyone had told you two months ago that it’d feel strange to wear Taerae’s hoodie in April you would have thought it would have been because of the warm weather, and not because Taerae had broken up with you just a couple of weeks before.

The fabric felt now heavy on your shoulders, and you sensed an all too familiar weight drop a little heavier onto your chest. You had done your best to go back to the life you had known before, but in the past two weeks you had been semi successful in achieving that: More than once had your co-workers caught you staring off into space, your gaze unintentionally fixed upon any busker in front of the café, your eyes even fixated on the spot when nobody was playing. With a gentle tap to your shoulder, Hanbin had brought you back to your task of making espresso shots, a routine that felt almost too easy to get distracted from.

You were well aware that you had had a life before Taerae. You just didn’t know you would have one after Taerae. In all honesty, you had hoped you wouldn’t have.

The most tragic part was, Taerae just hadn’t given you the closure one would need after getting broken up with by the love of their lives. He hadn’t really given you any explanation at all. Nothing more than a lot off bullshit, and a just-because. It was easy for most people in your life to go from loving to hating him, but even with the lack of sympathy for your situation, you found it difficult.

You had tried to hate him, you had tried to resent him even, but nothing had proven effective enough to erase your love for him. Taerae had been engraved into your bones. And now he expected you to just move on?

In hindsight, you should have seen it coming. At least that’s what you told yourself, that’s what you told your friends who were asking why the two of you broke up. Coming up with more than absurd reason of why you should have known, when in reality you simply couldn’t have. Because even in hindsight, you never could have seen it coming.

So, on the evening of, when Taerae had told you things weren’t working for him anymore, his face straight and not showing any emotion, not showing his signature smile, or even a tear; On the evening of, when you had begged Taerae to just tell you what you had to change, what it was you had done wrong and that you would fix them, if only he’d stay; On the evening of, when even after you had cried and shouted, he just took his guitar case and left; On the evening of the break up, you hadn’t gotten an answer. And neither had you in the two weeks since.

In fact, you had not seen Taerae at all. Or heard from him, not even through friends or social media. You wondered if he was okay, if he really was as unbothered as he had seemed, even though it was unnatural for him to act the way he did. You had always deemed Taerae a gentle person, but the way he ended things, was just so unlike him. So, he had to be not okay as well, right?

The lack of answers made you do something you had never had to do before, which was speculate and wonder. Taerae had always worn his heart on his sleeve and expressed himself so diligently most of the time, if not through words, surely, he would have done so through music. So, speculating about how he must feel now, was something you had never had to do. But now you caught yourself wondering all the time. You wondered how many things he thought about before the thought of you popped into his head. You speculated what the songs he was composing these days sounded like. Were they about you?

Either way, there was no hiding from him. Not for you, not just yet.

His presence, the imprint he had left on you followed you everywhere you went. The grocery store, the library, the café. Everywhere the memories of Taerae loomed over you. You wanted to forget him, so much to the point you had seriously considered hypnosis, if that was thing. It was like you could not, not consider him. He was so engraved in your brain; he was so engraved in your everything. You weren’t sure how to erase him from your everything, you weren’t sur how to erase him from anything. You weren’t sure you actually wanted to.

Still, the hurt you had felt the first few days was overwhelming, you couldn’t eat or sleep or do anything much other than run on autopilot. It had become so bad, that some of the regular customers noticed. It was almost like all life had been sucked out of you, and in a sense it had been; A possible future life had been taken from you. A future you had hoped for ever since you had met Taerae. A future you now grieved.

So, now looking at yourself in the mirror, the striped sweater hanging from your body, keeping it warm, felt like a glimpse of what if. A glimpse of Taerae. A glimpse of the person you had been when you were with him. A person you could have been, but never would.

For a second you wondered again, Taerae well established in your mind. But in the end, it didn’t matter. There was no use wondering and retracing everything you did during the last few days of your relationship. There was no use, because you did everything you said you would: You had loved Taerae, you loved him still, with your heart’s full capacity. Over the months you had fought and made up and hurt each other and forgiven the hurt. But now none of it mattered, so you might as well try and forget, instead of dwell and grieve.

So, with a swift motion you stripped the sweater off your body, exposing yourself once more to cold of the spring morning that had even seeped through the walls of your apartment. The frost making itself known in the form of icy crystals on your window. You didn’t look for another sweater, you wanted to feel the cold.

You weren’t sure what you had done wrong. But still, you knew more than you didn’t. You knew there was nothing you could do. You knew you would hurt for some time still. You knew you would see Taerae in buskers, guitars, and iced tea. You knew you would hear him in Hi-Hellos and the jingle of keys. You knew you loved him, and you knew it’d be a long time before you stopped.

So, for now you’d try to forget.

6. you were beautiful

There was a hum in the air, a melody that made its way through the busy streets of the city. The warm weather had finally decided to stay, and it stuck to the cement like chewing gum, barely cooling down overnight.

Taerae had kept himself busy over the past month, not really wanting to slow down, but with graduation coming up, also not really being able to do so. For him there had barely been any time to just stroll around, or go to cafes with his friends, or to simply just think; These days Taerae still didn’t really knew how to function normally, how to function like he did before you. Of course, he still had to perform, write, and produce music for university, but he rarely went out to busk or did these things for joy like he used to. It was something outsiders could have never noticed; How Taerae did everything but nothing at the same time. Only the people close to him, could tell something was up. They knew of the break-up of course, but they could only guess why exactly it happened in the first place.

In any case, it was evident that Taerae had closed himself off. He didn’t really talk to any of his friends about it, and neither did his songs show any reflection of what he felt. They hadn’t become bad, they were just cliché. Some of his professors even pointed out the shift in his lyrical style. But there was nothing Taerae could do; he was both too busy and exhausted to deal with his feelings.

Walking around in the area by his apartment was one of the only times Taerae consciously searched for some down time, to sort out at least some of his thoughts. Of course, he was cautious not to stray too close to your workplace, more for his own sake than yours. As of now, Taerae wasn’t sure how his heart would react if he was to come face to face with you unexpectedly. Ever since he had decided to break it off with you, he had barely fathomed to hold a single thought about you. He simply couldn’t conjure up enough courage to deal with his own heart break. So, up until now, pushing everything away would have had to do the trick.

He wasn’t sure what exactly had ticked off his thought process to recall the day of the professor-student conversation. Maybe it was the undeniable sense of Deja-vu he felt when he spotted a young busker, surrounded by only a small group of people, who were all listening carefully to the boy’s song. Maybe it was the girl listening, who from the back looked exactly like the one he loved. It could have been either of these two or another altogether, but in any case, Taerae knew, that maybe it was time to face this inevitable heart ache, even if just for the duration of this walk.

At the beginning of each semester, music and music production majors are required to sit down with one of their supervising professors, to discuss projects for the upcoming term. Most of these conversations were easy going, and the projects subject to change, but the conversation at the start of the second semester senior year was one equally feared and anticipated.

The senior project for music and music production majors was basically the making of an entire album, with full creative freedom. Taerae had been more than excited to get started on it, in fact, he had been so eager that the songs for his album were ready for recording as soon as his supervising professor approved of them.

So, yes, Taerae was a tad bit nervous entering the professor’s office. But he was generally well-liked and so were his songs, so he was sure this meeting would go over smoothly, and he would have to do nothing more than to put in a reservation to one of the student recording studios and was good to go.

And that was the case, partly.

Everything was going well; the professor praised his compositions and skills as a lyricist. The way he had described Taerae as someone to get across any type of feeling, made Taerae’s chest swell with pride. It wasn’t until the last few minutes of the meeting, when Taerae was supposed to thank the professor in front of him and get straight to work, that everything was pushed out of his rightful trajectory.

Taerae was about to get up out of the chair he had been sitting in somewhat tensely, when the professor said something, that in hindsight, put as many things into perspective as it pushed out of it. At least for Taerae.

“This girl must be quite the experience for you as a song writer.”

“Excuse me?” Taerae had said then, distraught, and genuinely confused.

The professor had then proceeded to explain how certain people, certain experiences, determined the colours of the artists in any art form. And that you, were certainly one of these experiences that would influence Taerae a great deal, even once the next experience would come into his life.

Looking back now, Taerae wasn’t sure why he had taken what his professor said so to heart. He definitely didn’t think of you as an experience. He didn’t think of you as something temporary at all. He didn’t think that there was any more evolving for him to be done, Taerae would have been good writing songs about you for the rest of his life.

But was this how the world perceived you? As an experience? Did he, through his songs somehow reduce you to something less than what you were, something temporary, something to live through and then move on?

From this point on Taerae couldn’t help but spiral in his self-doubt. Doubt for his love for you, and doubt for his skill of song writing. Thinking back on statements his friends had made, like how they would also write songs as good as Taerae’s if they had a Y/N in their lives, only confirmed his insecurities in his own love for you. Taerae somehow had gotten way into his head about it.

In Taerae’s mind it wasn’t fair to you. It wasn’t fair to make you an experience in his life. It wasn’t fair, when all you did was give, when you read his every thought and tried so hard to be better and learned with the mistakes you made, learned to love Taerae even more.

Taerae remembered that you had said you wanted nothing more than to love Taerae for the rest of your life, that he was your person. And all Taerae had done was make you an experience.

Lost in thought, a sigh heavy on his lips, Taerae hadn’t noticed the young woman listening to the busker turn around. She hadn’t yet looked at him, instead she was gushing about the music to the friend who had just joined her. Had the other joined the young woman any earlier, Taerae would have known in an instant that it was in fact you: the pink hair of your best friend and co-worker a dead giveaway. The two of you a duo Taerae found difficulty in separating, even during the days of you dating.

Chaehyun was whispering something in your ear, which made you laugh a little louder than you had anticipated, a hand coming to cover your mouth as you snickered in slight embarrassment. More than once had Taerae witnessed an interaction similar to this one, and looking at you now, made his heart ache with longing.

But he understood that that was something he wouldn’t be able to see again. He knew that he couldn’t really love you the way you deserved to be loved, so he wouldn’t try.

In the past, Taerae had always felt he was good at expressing himself. You had always promised him to get better at things, to learn the love Taerae needed. Without missing a day, you had told him you loved him. Sometimes first thing in the morning, sometimes it was the last thing he heard when he fell asleep. You had always thought of Taerae first, he had been the most important thing in your life, and Taerae had been well aware of this fact, you had told him more than once. Yet you still didn’t put pressure on the young man, you waited patiently on him in every sense. Maybe Taerae hadn’t been so good at expressing his feelings, maybe you had been the one very aware of your own feelings along.

Watching you from afar, he wondered if you thought of him as much as he did of you. He wondered if everything the two of you had been, was something of the past to you, or if everything, if he, was still present in your life, if he still was something you had to consider, even if it was just to avoid him successfully.

The warm wind grazed over you, as it did Taerae, sending your hair flying in its direction. Your head turned towards the young man standing more than a few metres away from you, gaze fixed upon you. It took you some time to remember to not stretch out your arm and wave at him in greeting. It took you even longer to remember not to make your way towards the boy to greet him with a soft kiss on the cheek.

It also took some time for Taerae to not expect any of this from happening; looking at you now, you were a stranger he still loved.

But looking at him now, you realized he was a stranger you once loved. And thus, a small smile made its way onto your face as you turned away, interlocking your arms with your friend, and walking off into the direction of your workplace.

To Taerae it had always been interesting how people forgot, once it was over, once it was done. But Taerae would never forget what it was like to love you. He would never forget what it was like to be loved by you. How it was beautiful, how you were beautiful. Taerae would aways remember, he could simply never forget. Maybe someday, he would be fortunate enough to remind you again.

yay!! you made it to the end!! i hope that you were able to enjoy it despite the somewhat sad ending!! thank you again for reading and i’d love to hear your thoughts on it!! love youuuu

this piece was written by @yourstruleejn so please don’t post on any other platforms or translate into any other languages! thank u !!!

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