#i usually went for purple gradient because the lights looked really good with it

[flash-from-the-past]

Sue Clip Maker

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

bullseye | got it bad, m | jjk, kth

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Kim Taehyung really regrets setting up his best friend with Jeon Jungkook, mostly because instead of dealing with one insufferable asshole, he now has to deal with two. He just wants you to come to his art exhibit and support him, and you show up looking like a pimp with Jungkook looking like your escort, sigh.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; you’re a cocky asshole and so is Jungkook; schemes, please save Taehyung; graphic descriptions of various sex acts, smut (fem reader, making out / dry humping / fingering in a public bathroom, threesome smut, mild restraint, nipple play, m-receiving oral, ass / pussy spanking, double penetration / spit-roast, facial, mild dom/sub themes, so much kissing); non-idol!BTS; fuckboy!Jungkook x bisexual, fuckgirl!reader; ft artist, best friend!Taehyung

yup, it’s Butter purple-haired ponytail JK and orange suit Taehyung

--

"You have got to be kidding me!"

"Oh, hey, Tae. How's it going?"

"Hey, hyung."

The voices, one irritated, one pleased, one mischievous, all three looking like the epitome of trouble and the eventual subjects of someone's wet dream.

Kim Taehyung marched over to you, purely indignant, his previous honey-brown hair now dyed to the color of black coffee, the long curls pushed back to reveal his forehead. One stray lock brushed against his dark, sculpted brows that were currently furrowed in annoyance. He stopped in front of you and your boyfriend, hands on his hips. He looked handsome as hell in a tailored orange creamsicle suit and gold earrings, white dress shirt neatly pressed.

"Why are you dressed like a pimp?" Taehyung hissed, jabbing your left breast through your dress. "Why are you dressed like his pimp?!" he added, pointing at Jungkook's smirking face.

You blinked innocently at Taehyung, lifting your oversized black fur coat sleeve to place a delicate hand on your chest, completely unbothered by his harsh reaction to your appearance. Your nails were a gradient from black to white, ever-so-slightly pointed, but not too long to be inconvenient.

Just enough to show you meant business.

Oh, and also you were wearing mock-neck, halter-style minidress that faded from black to white, molded to your every curve. It perfectly matched Jungkook's gradient black-to-white suit. Every step was accented with a sharp click, you in sleek black high-heels and him in glossy black oxfords, dangerous from head-to-toe.

Yes, Jungkook and you were that couple.

"Is that a t-shirt?" Taehyung snapped, switching to prodding Jungkook’s pecs, who grinned in response. You shrugged, the shoulders of your fur coat sliding down so that it now rested on your elbows, exposing your shoulders.

"He thought about not coming with one, but I advised him the other visitors would be too distracted by his sexiness to view your art," you explained, bowing as if you had done a great service.

"And I told her they would be to distracted with her amazing legs, but it's better not to cover them because I like looking," Jungkook chuckled, placing an arm around your waist and pulling you to him possessively.

Taehyung facepalmed.

"I regret paying matchmaker to the two biggest egos I know," he mumbled through his fingers, glaring at the two of you.

"Hey, we kept it low profile. Neutrals."

Taehyung pointed to your boyfriend's hair, pulled back into a sleek ponytail. "Hello? His hair is fucking purple."

You waved his comment away dismissively. "Well, besides that."

"You're a class-A asshole."

"Still makes me high class," you replied with a wink.

"This is really nice, hyung," Jungkook cut in between your bickering. "There’s quite a lot of people here already. I didn't know you were so talented and popular. As expected from my girl's best friend, eh?"

Taehyung winced, rubbing the back of his neck, ears turning red. "Eh... it's not a big deal..." he muttered, but you could tell he was enjoying the praise.

"Of course, it is, Tae," you chuckled, pulling out of Jungkook's grasp to hug him, squeezing him between your fur-covered arms. "You've worked so hard to be able to display your paintings at such a nice venue. I'm proud of you."

Taehyung laughed shyly, hugging you back. "Ahaha... thanks, as usual." He planted a light kiss on the top of your head. "I'm happy you guys came."

You grinned. "Indeed. You needed visitors to match the space," you drawled, sweeping your arms in a grandiose gesture to the glass cases of Taehyung's paintings, crisp white walls, and black marble flooring.

Taehyung rolled his eyes, smiling despite being over your antics. "Not sure I need a high-end escort and his pimp sauntering around..."

"When are your parents arriving? I want to introduce them to Jungkook," you interrupted, tugging on Jungkook's arm and making his cheeks flush pink.

"Like this?! Are you serious, my parents are going to have a heart attack once they realize there's a male version of you!"

"Aw, come on, your dad loves seeing me!"

"That's because you both are always up to no good... fucking always pulling pranks on me... I'm actually glad they're stuck in traffic now..."

-

You slid your thumb into his mouth, smirking as you heard his muffled whine. He was trying to stay quiet, staring down at you with half-lidded eyes, whimpering as you rubbed his tongue with the pad of your finger. One of your legs was hooked around his waist and he was holding it up with one hand. His other between your legs, fingers hooking underneath your panties.

“Fuck, I love looking at you, Jungkook,” you whispered, leaning forward, shuddering at the feeling of his saliva pooling around your thumb, your own tongue snaking out and tracing the air right between his open lips.

Jungkook moaned softly and shoved two fingers inside your tight, wet pussy.

You pulled your thumb out and crashed your lips to his, letting your satisfied exhale into his throat, your name trapped between his lungs and your hungry mouth, kissing him deeply as he plunged his fingers in and out, pressing your body into the wall of the bathroom stall. Shivers up and down your spine, back arching to feel even more of his chest against yours, frustrated at the clothing between you and him, but still hot and exciting, your hands circling his head and playing with his ponytail, rolling your hips into his rough thrusts.

You tried to break free and moan, but Jungkook captured you with his lips, forcing your noises into his mouth to silence them, rubbing his erection against your hip and thigh, the sound between your legs getting louder because you were getting wetter, closer, your eyes cracking open and seeing his half-open too, staring at you with lust and love, determined to push you over the edge, even in the men’s bathroom where Kim Taehyung’s art exhibit was being held.

Hey, you both waited until you had a nice, long conversation with Taehyung’s parents where his mom drilled Jungkook with questions about what he did and what kind of person he was. His dad, in contrast, seemed to approve of Jungkook and gave him a hearty slap on the arm, telling him trouble and trouble often went well together. Then you and Taehyung’s dad had a praise fest about his son, which made Taehyung turn beet-red in embarrassment. Both of you meant it all, of course.

But, also, both of you enjoyed embarrassing Taehyung in public. It was fun.

Yeah, dads loved you.

You couldn’t imagine why that was.

All that aside, after Taehyung's parents bid their son goodbye, Jungkook dragged you into the men's bathroom and began to make out with your face.

He contained himself for a few hours. It was a valiant effort, living off only groping your ass a couple times, but a man can only take so much when you’re looking like a five-course meal and he’s aware that you’re willing to let him eat, you know?

No? Oh, well.

Maybe that’s just your problem.

Also, yes, maybe you discreetly teased him a couple times by rubbing your ass on his crotch and pressing your tits against his back. Maybe.

You lowered one of your hands, cupping your fingers around his length, sighing in his mouth, feeling how perfectly rock-hard he was, knowing you couldn’t have it and he couldn’t give it to you, not yet, but soon, his deep snarl at your touch, fuck, kisses intensifying, shoving his fingers into you all the way to the knuckle, the wet squish audible and obscene, the adrenaline of danger and satisfaction creeping you closer and closer to your high. His thumb came up and grazed your clit, making you close your eyes and rock your hips into his touch, moaning his name into his own mouth, his force of his fingers pushing his thumb against your throbbing clit hard and fast, the scent of black coffee and lush dragon fruit on his skin and yours, mixing with the sweetness of your orgasm as you wailed in glorious triumph, clutching his head with your hand and his waist with your leg, your other one shaking with strain as each pulse shook you, squeezing his clothed length in your hand, wanting it and pulling back to tell him just that in hot whispers, his soft moan against your mouth, whispering back, your name and his desire, his dark brown eyes nearly black with lust.

“Shit, you know how bad I want to fuck you, right now,” Jungkook panted.

“Please don’t.”

Huh?

You raised an eyebrow at the annoyed baritone voice. “Taehyung?”

“Do you know how long I’ve been standing here, knocking on this bathroom stall, you absolute horndogs?”

You heard him gritting his teeth, his voice nearly a deep growl. You did what any natural person would do.

Reached over and unlocked the door, letting it swing open to reveal your and Jungkook’s grinning faces.

His fingers remained very firmly inside your pussy, barely covered by the hem of your dress. You swept your arm back so your fur coat was out of the way. Always considerate. Taehyung stood at the opening of the door, hands on his hips, orange blazer flaring out with his posture, immediately throwing up his hands and jerking his head away once he realized that, yes, of course, you two would not bother covering up anything.

“Fucking – shit, get your hands off her, man, go home to do that–”

Jungkook began to slide his fingers out, scissoring them with a wet squish and you mewled, slightly exaggerated and performative.

“Oh my God, never mind, stop, leave them in there,” Taehyung snarled, realizing he was facing the mirror and therefore could still see both yours and Jungkook’s smug smirks. He abruptly turned ninety degrees, now facing the wall, giving you both the side eye. “The fuck is wrong with you people? Do you have any decency?”

“Sure, we do,” you chirped.

“Yeah, that’s why we’re in the bathroom,” Jungkook added, softly rubbing your clit and making you bite your lip, enjoying it very, very much.

A muscle in Taehyung’s eyebrow twitched. “Public bathroom,” he snapped, rubbing his forehead. “Fuck, what if it wasn’t me who walked in here? What if It was some goddamn stranger listening to this shit?”

“Speaking of which,” Jungkook mused, cocking a brow. “Normal people would just leave. Why did you stay and listen?”

You didn’t say anything. You were simply happily grinding on his hand, the gentle pressure creating a constant ecstasy that you were completely satisfied with, one hand hooked around Jungkook’s neck, waiting for Taehyung to answer with a huge, amused grin on your face. Taehyung knew everything about you.

It almost meant you knew everything about Taehyung.

He rolled his eyes. “You act like I’ve never heard her orgasm before. Big fucking deal.”

Jungkook gave him a pair of incredibly wide eyeballs that indicated that, yes, that was kind of a big deal.

“Tae was my first kiss.”

“What?’ Jungkook blurted, snapping his head back to you.

You shrugged. “We were, like, eight. Just wanted to know what kissing was.”

Jungkook blinked very rapidly, stunned.

His two fingers were still inside you.

You scrunched up your face, thinking. “We were also each other’s first head and fuck too. Although it wasn’t very good.”

“You were a bit shit,” Taehyung interjected.

“It took you five whole minutes to aim. Even a watermelon would be dry at that point.”

Jungkook was still trying to process that you were each other’s first kiss with his fingers knuckle deep in your pussy. “W… What? Why aren’t you guys dating?”

You snorted. “I can’t do that. He’s like my brother.”

Taehyung stuck his tongue out. “And she’s like my sister. That’s weird.”

Jungkook finally yanked his fingers out of you and threw out his hands in disbelief. “And being each other’s first times for – shit, basically everything – isn’t weird?”

Your eyes flickered to Jungkook’s soaked fingers, your cum stuck between them in viscous strings. Ooh, sexy. You licked your lips, breaking out in a pleased smirk. Taehyung spied what you were looking at and facepalmed. Jungkook seemed to notice too and turned to look at it, suddenly forgetting the whole discussion.

And put his cum-covered fingers into his mouth, moaning deliciously around them.

Taehyung made a horrified face in the mirror, making eye contact with you.

“Um, gross!”

“Eh, shut up, Tae, not like you haven’t done it in front of me before.”

“Well, I don’t wanna watch Jungkook do it,” he shot back, spinning around to glare at you. “He’s your boyfriend!”

You quirked an eyebrow. “You’ve seen other guys do it before when we’ve had threesomes. Plus, you’ve watched me open my mouth with other men’s cum in it so you could cum in my mouth too.”

Jungkook choked on his own fingers.

“WHAT?” he roared.

“You weren’t serious about them!” Taehyung flicked his hand, completely ignoring Jungkook. “And you’re my go-to when the girls I’m seeing want to experience a threesome, so I was just doing you a favor!”

Your boyfriend was having a mild heart attack and neither you nor Taehyung seemed to notice, too busy bickering about your strangely integrated sex lives.

“What’s the difference? It’s just Jungkook. You guys are friends.”

“Yeah, extra reason why I don’t want to sit around and imagine him slurping from your vagina. I gotta look into his eyes later!”

You raised your hands, shaking your head. “So what? You’ve seen my other sex partners in public and never said much about it. Why are you making such a fuss now?”

“Because!” Taehyung flung his hands, stamping a foot on the tile floor in frustration, his handsome features twisted into despair, hands on his head and messing up his dark brown hair. “Because you’re going to stop being my friend now that you’re serious about someone and I can’t do anything about it because that someone is Jungkook and I actually like the guy! I’m fucking happy for you and shit, but, fuck, fuck, what am I gonna do when you’re not in my corner anymore?”

Your jaw dropped, shocked.

“Tae, what are you talking about–?”

He spun around, about to run out, but you were faster, grabbing his arm and pulling him back, yanking him into a fierce hug. And, just like that, Taehyung was that awkward, weird kid in elementary school again, not wanting to admit he was scared and frightened of the big mean boys teasing him about his odd drawings and strange thought processes, calling him a dorky alien. He grabbed your shoulders, shivering, holding back tears.

“No one’s gonna protect me…” Taehyung sniffed, burying his face in your hair. “If you’re gone, I can’t be brave…”

“Hey, you know that’s not true,” you chastised lightly, squeezing him. “You’ve become strong, all on your own. You know that. That whole exhibit is filled with your art. You even got offers to buy some of your pieces. Isn’t that amazing?” You pulled back and placed your hands on Taehyung’s cheeks, smiling up at him kindly. He still looked gloomy and uneasy, lower lip sticking out. “Come on, you know I’m right, Van Gogh,” you teased, pinching his cheeks a little. He fidgeted, frown lessening. “I will always, always be in your corner. No matter what. No guy is going to make me stop being friends or supporting you. You need me to knock someone’s front teeth out, give me the time and place and I got your back.”

“That’s going to send you to jail,” he muttered, smiling slightly.

“Then I’ll go to jail. That’s just glorified detention because they give you free meals.”

He laughed, still with a tinge of anxiousness. “You promise you won’t stop being my best friend over some guy?”

You grinned. “You’ll always be my best friend, Tae. I just happen to really enjoy his company and his dick. You know, a girl has needs.”

He stuck his hand out childishly, pinky sticking out. “Pinky promise me.” Then he stuck his other hand out. “Actually, double pinky promise me.”

You crossed your wrists over each other and pressed your pinkies to his, squeezing his hands tightly.

“I promise I’ll always be your best friend.”

“Uh, guys, you’re kinda making me feel like a third wheel…”

Jungkook might as well have been a bathroom sink to Taehyung and you in this moment.

Taehyung nodded firmly to you. “Okay. You promised. You better keep it.”

You rolled your eyes. “When have I ever broken a promise to you?”

“Hmm, I guess you’re right…” All of a sudden, he looked down at your hands and wrenched his own out of them. “Oi! Where have those hands been, young lady?” He looked at his open hands with a repulsed scowl. “You better not have touched his dick and then my hands without washing yours! That’s disgusting!”

“Hey, I take offense to that,” Jungkook retorted heatedly. “My dick is perfectly clean and she didn’t get to touch me yet because you busted in and interrupted us–”

“What are you going on about, you’ve touched my hands after I’ve given handjobs! I didn’t hear you complaining!”

“He’s done what–?”

“I keep telling you that’s different, this is Jungkook, a man you actually love, and here I thought you were incapable of that.” Taehyung spoke over Jungkook, jabbing his finger into his palm to drive his point home. “You get that sparkly shit in your eyes when you talk about him and it makes me want to puke–”

“I do not get sparkly shit in my eyes, what the fuck does that even mean?”

“You literally will not shut up about how pretty he is!”

“He is pretty! Look at him!” You banished your arms in Jungkook’s direction like he was your first-place trophy on display, which he might as well be at this point with how much attention either of you were giving him. At least he looked the part.

Taehyung rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, throwing his whole head back. “I can give you pretty. You’ve been telling me I’m handsome all my life.”

“Why don’t we just have a threesome?”

Silence.

Both you and Taehyung jerked your heads to Jungkook, jaws dropped at his suggestion.

The door to the men’s bathroom opened and an old man bounced in, humming to himself.

He saw you.

He stopped, tilting his head. Then he looked from Jungkook to Taehyung and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Love triangle or sexy night, boys?”

Taehyung choked on air. “Not a love triangle.”

“Oooh, sexy night.” The old man gave you two thumbs up. “I’d love to join, but I’ll back out this time.”

You laughed heartily as Jungkook and Taehyung grabbed your arms, pulling you out of the men’s bathroom, not about to discuss a possible threesome in front of some old guy who vaguely offered to make it a foursome.

You made sure to give the old man a wink, sticking your head back in the open door to say, “Maybe next time, eh?”

The old man cackled and Taehyung slapped a hand over your mouth, dragging you out.

“Please shut up, I fucking swear…”

-

“So, why is it different?”

Somehow both you and Jungkook had dragged your best friend into your apartment and tied him to a chair. One of those nice wooden ones with plenty of openings to slip cotton rope through. Probably not what Kim Taehyung thought he was going to do right after his art exhibition, but judging by his peeved, unsurprised face, it wasn’t a completely unexpected result either.

You had pulled up another chair to sit in front of him, still wearing your fur coat, knees between his knees, mostly because Taehyung was forced to spread them because of how you tied the knots.

“I think I hate you,” Taehyung muttered.

“Nah.”

“At least a little bit.”

You slipped the shoulders of your coat down, exposing your skin, casually crossing your arms under your breasts and leaning forward, smiling sweetly at Taehyung. His dispassionate face basically said, ‘go-suck-your-own-dick’. He tried to pulled his arms free.

“Don’t rip your blazer.”

“Bite me.”

“You gonna answer my question?” you asked, redirecting the conversation.

Taehyung clicked his tongue. “I told you. It’s because I can tell you love him.”

You broke your playful demeanor for a second, smiling broadly. “Really?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, you dork.”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever felt like more of a third wheel in my entire life even though you’re talking about how much you love me,” Jungkook said behind you. He was sitting on the couch, as the chairs had been repositioned in the living room.

Taehyung pursed his lips. “That’s why I got scared, you know…” He leaned forward a bit, pouting. “What if you spend so much time with him that you forget about me? What if you guys break up and you blame me?” If he was untied, he would be nervously picking at his lower lip with his right hand right now. Instead, he chewed on it, worried expression clouding his strong features.

You shook your head, reaching out to fluff his brown hair. “You think too much. Why would I blame you over a breakup? If anything, I’d be dragging you out so you can help me keep a record of how many people I can fuck in a night.”

Taehyung made a face. “Why can’t you be normal and cry while eating chocolate?”

“You know I don’t like chocolate.”

“You don’t like chocolate?” Jungkook choked in disbelief.

“I have to fuck my problems away, Tae. That’s the best way to deal with them.”

He rolled his eyes. “You need to see a therapist.”

“Nah, I got you.”

Suddenly Jungkook’s face appeared because you two, sitting on the coffee table.

“How do you not like chocolate?” he pressed, staring at you.

You blinked at him. “I mean, I don’t hate it. I’m just not crazy about it like some people. Isn’t that better for you? I can give you all the chocolate that I receive.”

This thought didn’t seem to have crossed Jungkook’s mind. He grinned, highly pleased with this result.

“You’re even going to give him your chocolate?” Taehyung gasped, affronted. “That’s it, this friendship is over. I can’t believe you would betray me like this!”

You placed your hands on his knees. Taehyung huffed.

“You want me to untie you now?” you asked, patting his thigh and ignoring his dramatic outburst.

“Why? I thought we were going to have a threesome.”

Both you and Taehyung whipped your heads to blink at Jungkook. He smiled innocently, which did not look innocent at all with his sleek purple ponytail and mischievous eyes.

“Nobody agreed to that.”

“Yeah, Jungkook,” you sided with Taehyung. “Nobody agreed to that.”

“Aw, come on,” he nudged, grinning. “You guys have obviously touched each other before, right? And I can totally trust hyung not to fall in love with you.”

“Because my preferred type wouldn’t hump me in a public bathroom,” your best friend muttered.

“I’m sensing judgement here, Kim Taehyung. Watch your mouth,” you warned.

“Choke on my dick.”

“We can start with that,” Jungkook chirped cheerfully.

“Why do you want this, anyway?” You narrowed your eyes at your boyfriend. “You never expressed any interest in threesomes before. I assumed you were too selfish for that.”

“I am.”

You raised an eyebrow.

Jungkook grinned devilishly.

“But I also wanna see you get spit-roasted.”

“Don’t–” Taehyung began.

Jungkook spread his legs, revealing his erection straining in his slacks. Taehyung snapped his head away, groaning an annoyance, disappointed but not surprised that your boyfriend had zero shame. Jungkook bit his lower lip, tiny mole underneath quivering, excitement and lust in his dark brown eyes, looking right at you eagerly. He purred your name. Taehyung visibly cringed.

“You know I would…” you drawled softly, reaching over to squeeze Jungkook’s thigh. “But I don’t think Tae is into it right now.”

“Yeah, I’d only do it if I was horny and desperate.”

“Then why do you have a boner?”

Both you and Taehyung whipped your heads down to see his dick trying to bust out of his pants.

He glared at it. “You traitor.”

“Are you talking to your dick?”

“Look,” Taehyung snapped, letting out a puff of breath and frowning at Jungkook. “I’m not immune, okay? She’s hot, sure. Absolutely one of the sexiest, most beautiful women I know.”

“Aw, so sweet!” you interrupted, smacking his leg in mock bashfulness.

“And,” he gritted, shooting you a scowl. “I might be horny and desperate, sure.”

“So, what’s the problem?” Jungkook inquired, smug smirk on his face.

“Well, you’ll get jealous, for one.”

Jungkook blinked, confused. “What?”

“Taehyung has a big dick.”

You said it so nonchalantly that Jungkook was speechless.

“Mhm.”

“Not as nice as Jungkook’s dick though.”

“Excuse me? I am offended.”

“You honestly need to improve your technique. You think your size alone is all that matters? Jungkook’s the whole package, great dick, cute smile, diligence, strength, always up for anything, perfect duality–”

“Shit, shut up about him, I get it, he’s the hottest thing to walk on this earth, now stop verbally jerking him, he’s not gonna agree–”

“Kiss him.”

You and Taehyung froze.

Eyes flickering to Jungkook, who raised an eyebrow challengingly.

“Kiss him,” he repeated.

Eyes back to Taehyung, who was breathing hard.

“Only because I’m horny and desperate,” he growled.

The corner of your lips ticked upwards.

“Got it bad, eh, Tae?”

You placed your hands on his thighs, sliding down, rising off your chair. You felt Taehyung’s muscles tense, narrowing his eyes. He tried to keep up his severe front, borrowing your tendency to use arrogance to hide your true feelings.

“Isn’t that you?” he challenged. “Need me to satisfy you even though you have Jungkook now?”

You smirked, seeing right through him. “You always give me such blessed service though.”

Something flared in his brown orbs, pupils expanding as you neared. “Don’t.” Your head tilted at his tone, almost pleading, and still you advanced, your soft inhale ghosting his lips. His gaze was on your face the entire time, swallowing hard, anticipation creeping into his stern expression.

“Don’t what?” you whispered teasingly.

“Don’t say it in front of him.”

“But you like it.”

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t need to know my embarrassing turn-ons.”

“What if I slip?”

He clenched his jaw. “Fuck, fine, whatever.”

Your hand reached up to cup his cheek, licking your teeth slowly, maintaining eye contact. Your words a low hiss, laced with pure lust.

“My good little angel, let this devil corrupt you.”

Taehyung whimpered and you closed in on his lips, kissing him deeply, straddling his lap, rolling your hips into his, voracious, greedy kisses, Taehyung gasping in your mouth as you bounced on his crotch, your spread legs causing the hem of your dress to rise, popping over your ass, moaning into his mouth as you worked him under you, his body familiar and comforting. His tongue encircled yours, whining for more, and you mumbled sweet nothings to him, remembering all the things he loved to hear, and he gave you all the things you loved, the neediness in his kiss, the desperation of his hips rising to add more friction. You weren’t exactly immune to Taehyung either. You could control yourself, normally.

But Jungkook gave you the green light, so you went all in.

Your hands were in his hair, tangled in the strands of black coffee, murmuring in his lips, sweet angel, and Taehyung moaned, fiercely thrusting his hips up and you sitting down on it, already wet, sighing satisfyingly at the feeling of his impressive length straining to reach your dripping heat, too many layers of fabric between them.

“Such a good boy doing such bad things,” you purred against his lips, amused at seeing your lipstick all over his mouth.

Taehyung looked up at you with glazed brown eyes, a tinge of unease in them. Maybe he didn’t want to show Jungkook his vulnerable side. You could understand that. You didn’t mind playing your role but Taehyung was more guarded. He didn’t like to be criticized or judged for the things he liked. You noticed his gaze flicker to Jungkook and then back to you.

You tilted your head and cradled his, running your fingers through his hair. “You want me to stop, I’ll stop,” you cooed gently, kissing his ear.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he breathed, so quietly you barely heard it. “I don’t want him to judge me.”

You chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry about that.”

Taehyung made a disbelieving noise.

“Something wrong?” Jungkook asked behind you, sounding curious and confused that his show was paused.

“Mhm, need you to take my coat,” you replied, pulling back, lowering your arms so Jungkook could stand behind you and remove it. You slid your hands out elegantly, seeing Taehyung’s messy dark hair and lipstick-stained lips. You heard Jungkook back up and you reached into Taehyung’s blazer, pulling out his handkerchief and dabbing at his mouth, carefully wiping it off.

“We can stop,” your reminded him gently.

“No,” he growled, frowning. “I’ve got a massive boner and it’s all your fault. Get me off.”

You grinned. “Alright, angel.”

You saw Taehyung bite his lip, shivering at your words. You couldn’t remember how this started, but it always worked. The roleplaying helped with the whole ‘having-sex-with-your-best-friend’ thing ten times less awkward, and it made it much easier for him and you to get off.

Unfortunately, it also was starting to make both of you much hornier while having sex with each other.

Whoops.

He clicked his tongue, raising his head, eyebrow cocked.

“Dirty little devil.”

You smirked. Taehyung’s voice was always sexier when he was aroused, deep and sultry.

One by one, you undid the buttons of his dress shirt, kissing at his exposed chest, the deep rich tone of his tan skin standing out against the white, his eyes closing at your touch, running your tongue down his sternum and blowing on it.

He shuddered, moaning your name, long and sweet.

You shifted, intending to push the chair behind you back, but it was gone. Instead, your ass backed up into a pair of very muscular legs. You paused, turning your head to see behind you.

“Jungkook–”

A firm hand stopped you, forcefully jerking your head back to Taehyung’s chest.

“Look forward,” Jungkook commanded.

A shiver down your spine at his tone. You smirked, peering up at Taehyung, who smiled.

“He jealous?”

“I’m not,” Jungkook snapped, grabbing your ass.

“A little bit,” Taehyung chuckled, and now he was smirking too.

Eerily similar to you, because who else would he learn such a devious expression from? You taught him well. You hummed, yanking Taehyung’s shirt open and pushing it to his shoulders, his naked torso now exposed to your eyes and mouth.

“Can’t imagine why. This was his idea.”

Taehyung jerked his head to you as you lowered yours to his chest. “What?”

But your lips closed around his nipple and he gasped, sputtering, confused, and then moaning as you moaned, Jungkook yanking down your panties and slapping your ass with his open palm, the sting added to the disapproving hiss of your name.

“He’s not supposed to know. I didn’t do all that acting for nothing,” he snarled, and your response was wiggling your ass, nipping your teeth over Taehyung’s chest, his handsome features twisted in ecstasy and pleasure, the tip of your tongue teasing his other nipple, pushing it around with your strong, wet, warm muscle.

“Whoops.”

Taehyung narrowed his eyes at you and your not-so-innocent tone.

Jungkook clicked his tongue. “Such a bad little devil. You need some punishment.”

“He already knew?” Taehyung gritted, glaring daggers at your grinning face, saying nothing, your deft fingers undoing his pants. “Answer me, woman.”

Jungkook was positioning your lower half, ass up, legs spread, pussy exposed to his eyes and hand, your dripping core tense with anticipation. When he spoke, his voice was deep and silvery, laced with danger and desire.

“Answer him.”

And he spanked your pussy, making you cry out and leak between his fingers, the sudden sting of pain so nice, and you had the audacity to continue giving Taehyung that infuriatingly smug expression as you dragged his pants and underwear to his knees, freeing his stiff length that stuck straight up, your body repeatedly lurched forward by Jungkook’s open palm on your soaked slit, your juices splattering on his hand and the inside of your thighs. With a smirk, you lowered your head.

“Mhm, he knew… ah, fuck, yes, Jungkook, just like that…” you sighed in satisfaction, tongue snaking out and wrapping around the head of Taehyung’s cock, bobbing your mouth up and down like that, stimulating just the tip, paying extra attention to the underside of the head. “Sorry, Tae.”

“Swallow me whole,” he growled. “Now.”

You were ready to do it, of course, but you felt Jungkook’s hand clap onto your leaking, heated pussy lips, and the other danced up your back, so you waited, letting him grab your head and push you down, not quite as roughly as he would have if he was actually being mean, but with enough pressure that you knew he just wanted to do the physical action, wanted to feel the power even if there was no maliciousness behind it.

Your lips closed around Taehyung’s pulsing, hard length, taking it all, a familiar girth stretching out your jaw. You made a light gagging sound as the head hit the back of your throat, not quite suffocating, but enough to indicate, stop pushing me, and Jungkook lifted the weight off your head, still gripping your hair, messing up your perfected style of the night.

“That’s a good girl, swallowing all that dick,” he purred, sliding a finger into you.

You whined, clenching your walls around it, squeezing tight, wanting more.

“Suck.”

You did, obediently, looking up at Taehyung, his head tipping back, low moans escaping his throat as your tongue squirmed at the base of the head in your throat, muscles clinching around his cock, your lips around the base. You swiped your tongue down, stretching it out even farther, past your lips, slurping nosily at his balls, flicking them rapidly with the tip, feeling him get harder and harder, twitching against the roof of your mouth, bending a little due to the lack of space.

“Fuck, let go of her head, fuck!”

Jungkook released you and you grabbed Taehyung’s hips, starting a fast, intense pace, swirling your tongue around his cock, another long finger wiggling into your slick folds, thrusting into you from behind, your legs shaking with strain, Taehyung moaning louder and louder, filling up your apartment with his lust.

“Don’t fucking stop, fuck, you have the devil’s tongue, a-ah, it’s so fucking good…”

Jungkook scissored his fingers in you, the squelching sound loud and lewd, and you spied Taehyung tipping his head back, panting, watching Jungkook finger you from behind, his other hand smacking your ass periodically to watch it bounce and hear you moan, your hips bucking back into his hand every time you ascended from Taehyung’s cock.

“Give her another,” he gasped. “Stuff her more.”

Jungkook snickered. “For an angel, you’re all about the punishment, hm?”

But he did as he was told, shoving another finger in you and you whined, nearly popping your mouth off Taehyung’s thick length, stopping only because of imposing baritone.

“Don’t you fucking dare. Take it all. Or are you telling me you can’t? Telling me you’ve lost your touch?”

You went back down, narrowing your eyes, rising to his challenge. Your best friend knew everything about you and therefore he knew that the second he made it a question of your ability, well, that brought out the best in you.

“Fuck!”

Also made you almost vacuum his dick, but he asked for it.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuuuuuuuck!”

Tighter, faster, tongue all over, nearly forgetting Jungkook was touching you at all because Taehyung had doubted you and you weren’t having that shit, fuck no, not even with Jungkook’s free hand snaking between your legs and feeling for your clit, rubbing it at the same furious pace you were blowing Taehyung’s jerking cock, tipping your head back and angling it so the head scraped against the roof of your mouth, locking your knees to prevent the shudders of pleasure from ruining your rhythm, so good, fuck, feeling so good with the pumping of Jungkook’s powerful fingers, electric satisfaction radiating from your throbbing clit, clutching Taehyung’s hips so hard he was getting indents from your nails, determined to get him there before you, and, by the sound of his breathless cries of your name and the trembling of his impressive girth, he was there.

“Yes, a-ah, you’re so good, so fucking good, I’m gonna cum, oh, fuck!”

His orgasm exploded, flooding your mouth with a gush of saltness, thick strings of cum painting the back of your throat, and you gulped it all down greedily, eyes rolling back, the tense coil inside you snapping and drenching Jungkook’s hands with your own orgasm, your legs unlocking and giving out, shaking and flinching as wave after wave of vicious pleasure flooded through you, Jungkook’s strong arms holding you up, moaning at the feeling of your pussy convulsing around his fingers, still lightly rubbing your clit through your orgasm, whines and whimpers crammed in your throat due to Taehyung’s cock in your mouth, sliding all the way to the base and swallowing around it, because you knew he loved it, wanted it, craved it, groaning carnally, the head swelling and pulsing, nearly suffocating you.

“Feels so f-fucking good… a-ah, yeees…”

You stayed in the position for as long as you could, a good minute, before backing up with a choked gasp, clutching Taehyung’s thighs, eyes drifting up to his and he looked down at you, fucked-out, content, grateful, black-brown curls falling all over his forehead and cheeks, so casually sexy and perfect.

“Good angels always taste the best,” you rasped, licking your abused lips.

Taehyung grinned.

“Untie me, devil.”

“Damn, you do have a big dick.”

“… Stop looking.”

“Why? I wanna see what she put in her mouth.”

You teased the head with the tip of your tongue, smirking. Taehyung looked away, ears turning red.

“You two are shameless.”

“Yeah, but you like it,” you laughed, straddling his lap, casually leaning over him to untie him. You heard Jungkook make a clicking sound and you assumed he was making a frame with his hands and miming taking a photo.

“Stop that,” Taehyung muttered, face full of your covered breasts. “Oi, take your clothes off if you’re gonna squash my face with your tits.”

You rammed your chest into his face to muffle his protests.

-

“Mmm, yes, no faster way to make me limp than you sucking Jungkook’s face off.”

You were too busy grabbing Jungkook’s naked ass and moaning in his mouth, tongue on tongue, purple strands brushing against your forehand, his hands on your ass and squeezing it roughly, rutting his rapidly hardening cock against your thigh.

“You want me to leave you guys alone?”

You broke the kiss, snapping your head around to see Taehyung raising an eyebrow at you from the head of your bed, completely naked. Jungkook continued slowly humping your thigh, peaking pre-cum all over and adding to his own stimulation.

“Are you done being an insufferable shit or what?” you glowered.

“Mmm, no.”

“Hmph, fine, just fuck me from behind then if you’re so needy,” you sighed, turning back to Jungkook’s amused smirk.

“No. I want the mouth again.”

You and Jungkook shared a confused look. “Huh, why?” you both said at the same time, looking at him in unison.

Taehyung lifted his chin defiantly, pointing to you. “I wanna stuff my dick into your mouth and fuck your face because you tricked me.”

You gasped, feeling slighted. “I told you it was Jungkook’s idea, why am I getting punished? You schemed against me first!”

He shrugged. “You corrupted him so, technically, it’s all inherently your fault.”

You protested as Jungkook laughed, pushing you into position despite you verbally fighting back.

“What! All I did was exist! Is it my fault that Jungkook was thirsting after my ass and you decided it would a taste of my own medicine, only to have it backfire in your face? And what if I wanna look at his handsome face? Huh? Why am I not getting a say in – mhpf!”

You yelped as Jungkook and Taehyung shoved your face first into Taehyung’s crotch, his semi-hard cock smacking you in the cheek and getting a mouthful of his nuts.

“Lick.”

They both said it at the same time. You saw them share a look of surprise, shocked that they were thinking the same thing, ignoring you.

Hey, nobody ignores you.

You wrapped your lips around one of his balls and sucked, tongue surrounding it, causing Taehyung to squeal and spread his legs, his cock swelling instantly, especially as your tongue poked out and lapped at the other while sucking intently.

“Good little devil,” Jungkook praised, patting you on the head before backing up, leaving you to rearrange Taehyung’s nuts with your mouth, licking and sucking all over, him gasping and moaning above you, falling back against the headboard.

“You’re crazy, fucking crazy…”

You switched sides, pressing your lips into his crotch to stuff your mouth full before sticking your tongue out and wiggling it on the underside of the other, his thick length now hitting you in the nose, and you realized Taehyung wasn’t going to help you with this, so you internally sighed and reached up to grab his dick and stroke it slowly as you continued your make-out session with his nuts.

Taehyung was chanting your name over and over like it was a prayer, as if he was saying it in attempt to ask for his soul to be saved.

You felt the bed bow and you lifted your head as far as it could go, which wasn’t very far because you still had one of Taehyung’s balls still in your mouth. You were still sucking on it.

He moaned above you, clutching your pillows for dear life.

You heard a condom being opened and felt Jungkook’s knees spread yours, deep silvery voice purring your name.

“Wanna see you take two dicks at once, naughty devil,” he teased, pressing the head of his cock against your soaked opening.

You unlatched your mouth and Taehyung seemed to see stars for a hot second, reeling.

“Hope you’re prepared, sweet angel,” you taunted, and then you swallowed his dick.

“Fucking shit!”

You moaned around his cock, letting it fill you to the throat, Jungkook’s perfect length thrusting into you at the same time, stretching you out deliciously, his own moan adding to your pleasure. There was just something about Jungkook’s moan, the longing, the possessiveness, the love. It made you wetter every time, bringing newfound energy to your meticulous sucking of Taehyung’s cock, who finally seemed to get his bearings and remember what the fuck was going on and what he wanted to do in the first place, because he finally straightened, large hands fitting around your head, pushing your hair back.

“You know why you’re so good at sucking dick?”

You tried very hard not to roll your eyes, already knowing what was coming. You decided to focus on Jungkook’s cock instead, pumping in and out of you, powerful, deep strokes, his hands gripping your hips, trying so hard to please you, and he was good at it, hitting all your favorite spots that made you squirm back against him.

“Because I let you suck mine,” Taehyung growled, holding your head and thrusting into your throat.

Mmmhmm, you thought to yourself. Not that he was wrong, because he wasn’t, being your first and all, but, come on, you didn’t get all your skills from sucking one dick, no matter how amazing Taehyung’s was. Oh well, you let it slide, simply enjoying not having to do much as your best friend fucked your face and your boyfriend pounded your pussy.

Ah, bliss.

The feeling of your mouth being filled and used, stroking Taehyung’s hips with your fingertips, elbows on the bed, legs spread open for Jungkook to slap his crotch into your ass wetly, back to front, a constant encompassing ecstasy that you welcomed, letting them command the pace, hands on your head and hands on your ass, familiar hands, loving hands, because even if Taehyung didn’t want to take you on dates and wake up next to you every day, he still loved you, still made sure he didn’t actually hurt you, careful to thrust hard but not deep, or thrust deep but not hard.

Jungkook wanted to take you on dates and hold you on his arm like his trophy and be waltzed around as yours, so… romantic? It was your version of romance, anyway.

And sex.

Lots of sex.

Fuck, he was so good at fucking you, leaning down, giving you more, chuckling as he heard you moaning around Taehyung’s cock, faster, harder, yes, fuck, yes, so good, your noises trapped in your chest, Taehyung increasing the speed, breathing shallowing.

“Fuck, yes, tighter, give it to me, you dirty devil,” he growled and you obeyed, closing your lips and pressing your tongue against the bottom, sandwiching his length in your mouth, your pussy also squeezing Jungkook harder, basking in his sinful moan, enamored with his voice and the way he said your name, never getting enough.

“A-ah, you feel so good, your pussy is so fucking good, gonna make me cum…”

So rough, so intense, so full of cock, keeping your holes tight, relishing in the way they forced themselves into your mouth and pussy, heady and intoxicating pleasure, you tipping over the edge, wailing around Taehyung’s thick girth as you spilled onto Jungkook’s rock-hard length, mind-numbing satisfaction that spread all over, hot and melting into you. Your walls violently spasmed and caused Jungkook to gasp, cock twitching and jolting inside you, shooting thick spurts of cum that filled the condom, and he buried himself all the way in, a wanton moan of your name echoing off your bedroom walls, savoring the feeling of you milking him, gripping your sides and squeezing you lovingly.

Suddenly, Taehyung yanked his cock out of your mouth and you coughed, startled at the abrupt loss, only for him to orgasm all over your face, hot white strings shooting out of his glistening cock and his hand guiding them, painting your cheeks and open mouth, dripping onto your tongue and clinging onto your swollen lips.

“Tae! What the fuck?!”

He snickered, smearing the residual cum on the side of your frown, winking.

“Blessed service, eh, you devil?”

-

“Is it gonna be like this every time we hang out now?”

You climbed onto Jeon Jungkook’s lap, kissing him deeper, trapping his slim waist in between your thighs, his hands sliding up your skirt, moaning into your mouth as Kim Taehyung smacked you in the shoulder blades, the sound masked by the obscenely loud music of the club as onlookers watched you and Jungkook with increasing interest.

Probably all dreaming of threesomes with you two.

“Hello, you two are supposed to be helping me getting laid, not getting laid right in front of me!”

--

masterpost

[kaeyas-beloved]

Be You {Leviathan x Reader}

Leviathan x Reader (They/Them) || Obey Me!

Warning(s): None (Well, actually I make Levi bully Mammon for less than a paragraph)

Note: This was a request I received from someone on Wattpad!

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

Finally, Leviathan’s done it. It’s been a long three days, hours upon hours having been poured into this playthrough. 

“Woop woop! Aren’t I the best!” he praised himself, smiling wide. He’s skipped meals, pushed assignments to a later date and avoided any outside interactions to finish this game. His sight may be blurry and his limbs numb but if those were the sacrifices he had to make to go full completionist then it was all worth it. Now, time to celebrate a well deserved win.

“I think this calls for some of Ruri-chan’s celebratory season 3 limited edition candy and-!”

A chorus of knocks on his door immediately snuffed out his joy. Levi scowled, turning to glare at his door from his chair, it’s gotta be Mammon. The third born is absolutely positive that it’s his scummy older brother - it always is - back yet again to mooch more money off him for a trip to the casino. The usual slander he and his brothers would throw at the second born was on the tip of his tongue, ready to fire at will. 

“Hey Levi? You there? It’s me....”

A voice that definitely doesn’t belong to the second born piping up and Levi, halfway through spouting the first syllable, shuts up all together. That’s his normie. A weight presses on his heart: he was just about to yell and insult his Henry… 

Clearing his throat in hopes of gaining some kind of composure (all previous anger having diminished) the usual “What’s the password?” came out in a stutter. The demon was only acutely aware of his heart beat. How it skipped periodically. How it raced like he himself just ran a marathon. Levi waits a moment for the human to finish reciting the TSL excerpt. His hands begin to shake, his palms exuding profuse amounts of sweat. Gah! Why was he so nervous? Yeah, he’s aware that he’s just some gross shut-in otaku but he shouldn’t be this anxious! It’s not like this is the first time the exchange student has hung out in his room... alone... with him…

“Yo Levi?”

“Yes MC?”

“You think you could open the door now? Please?” Snapped back to reality, Levi hastily opened the door, finding himself regretting it soon after.

“I, uh, MC? What do you…?” his voice trailed off, orange gradient eyes locked on their garments. Immediately he sputtered, taking a step back. A bright scarlet coated his pale cheeks. Levi tried to hide it with his hand, though it was proven useless. The sea demon's at a toss up; should he screech? Slam the door shut? Combust all together!? At the rate he’s going, number three is looking pretty probable.

On the other end of this exchange, the human stood almost timidly out in the hall, fingers fiddling with one another while their eyes darted anywhere but at the man in front of them. The words of the fifth born rang in their ears:

“You absolutely have to wear this dear! My brother would surely fall head over heels for you, even more so than he already is!”

Oh whyyyyy did they trust him? Cause he had knowledge in fashion and love? Yeah, that was it. Still, if this turns south Asmo is going to get a lecture worse than any Lucifer could ever give… Damn, they really should’ve never let the lust demon shoo them into his private bathroom and make them change into this girly outfit. 

And it hit them all at once: Levi doesn’t like it, what they’re wearing. What if he never talks to them after this? Maybe if they leave now then there will still be a chance they can forget about this.

Time went on slowly, like people who walk through mud are, and MC just about tuck tail and ran, what they had planned and gained courage for be damned. 

Levi had other plans though. 

Only now registering that the two were standing out in the open for all to see, in a blind and desperate attempt to save himself and the human from embarrassment, the third born latched onto their wrist, yanking them into the safety of his room. Unfortunately, demon strength is a funny thing and Levi had handled them with more force than he meant to, the human crashing into his chest - hard. 

Perhaps it was instinct -- a need to protect the fragile being within his grasp -- but the demon's arm found purchase around their form, pulling them almost impossibly closer as they tipped. The pair, balance long gone, toppled over, landing with a thud.

Somehow, just like in all the romance anime he’s watched, Levi found himself hovering over them, arms propped on either side of their head. Their noses brushed, both staring frozen into each other's eyes. It wasn’t everyday that either of them were this close to one another, the exception being when the duo falls asleep playing video games. God, with this kind of proximity he was sure that the normie could hear how fast his meek heart was pounding. If this went on any longer he might actually die.

“Levi?” They whispered, their voice so quiet that he almost missed the call of his name. He however did catch their whisper and tensed up before coming back to the here and now, catching sight of the ‘what’ that led to their current position. Standing, Levi’s face burned hotter than ever before.

‘It was all because of them,’ he thought, turning away turning away with tense shoulders as he still tries to mask the red that licked all the way up to his ears. ‘It’s always their fault when I start to feel like I do now!’

“S-stupid n-normie! Why are you even wearing that?” he asked, chancing a glance over his shoulder. Levi did have to admit… they looked kinda cute in those clothes… and it looked like something Ruri-chan would wear too… 

Gah! No no no focus Levi!

The ‘normie’ didn’t answer right away, instead raising to their feet and opting to grab a bag from beside the door. That wasn’t there before. 

“Asmo…” they sighed, turning back to face the demon, nervousness swirling within them. Now or never, “Asmo said you’d like it if I wore something like this” So this is Asmo’s doing? Damn him… “Anyway, here, take it.”

“Wha-?” A shimmering gift bag the same colour of the water Henry his goldfish swam in was thrust into his hands, whatever he was about to say dying in his throat. 

A present? For him? Oh why must a no good otaku like him have to go through such an intimate endeavor???? He just can’t take it! 

Then again, this was like that one scene from season 2 ep. 22 of this anime he binged: I Forget Important Dates all the time which causes me to get into really awkward situations. This time I forgot about my Birthday and my Crush handed me a bag before confessing their love for me!

So-! Spurred on by fictional characters and MC’s urging “go on, open it”, Levi tore the tape, presented with his spontaneous gift: a popular multiplayer game from the human world; one near impossible to get in Devildom.

“WHAOOO!” MC couldn’t help but think how much he’s acting like a kid on Christmas, the notion cute in their opinion. The human stood still for a couple minutes, allowing their friend to rant and gush over the game (and how cool they were for even acquiring it).

“But…” the purple haired demon calmed down, “why did you suddenly give me this?” What? Did he not know what today was?

“It’s… it is your birthday isn’t it!?” Don’t tell them Asmo lied to them about Levi’s birthday!

Levi pulled out his phone, his eyes widening to the size of saucers, “No, it is my birthday,” he assured. With all the gaming he was doing he must've failed to noticed, which is strange considering the last time his special day drew near he practically counted down the days. 

“MC.” He got their attention, looking them right in the eye, his words and actions portraying a sureness and sincerity, “Thank you and…” As quick as lightning strikes the ground, the human had themselves pulled flush against Levi once more, his head resting on their shoulder and nose buried in the crook of their neck. His hair, so soft and fluffy, left a ticklish sensation on their skin.

“And about what you said before. With Asmo. I do like what you’re wearing but…” he tightens his hold, “I like you just the way you are. I know you don’t usually dress like this and I want nothing more than for you to be comfortable, like how you make me. If that means dressing tomboy-ish then so be it. I want you to be you: the human only you can be: my Henry.” 

“I’m glad you feel that way…” They smiled, arms wrapping around his torso. They hope their gratitude is able to shine through in the hug, “Now, ya wanna play your new game?”

“Yes!” He smiled, pulling back and raising his hand. They return the grin, suppressing a chuckle seeing as the demon reminded them of the YES demoji. “Oh, but um! Would you like to change first? It’s not that I don’t like seeing you dressed like that or anything but like I said I want you to be comfortable but also I don’t think my heart can take it anymore… wait that’s not what I meant!” That made them chuckle though.

“Do I have to?” They teased, enjoying the reaction they got out of the third born. Levi gulped, ducking his head while whispering a small no. “Then maybe I’ll stay like this a little longer. It is your birthday after all.” Tugging the envy demon towards their usual gaming spot they let Levi set up the game before the two plopped down in their spots.

“Oh and Levi?” He hummed, tilting his head, the light of the screen illuminating the side of his face. They hugged him once more, “Happy Birthday”

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

[Masterlist]

Thank you for reading!

[tenspontaneite]

The Ceracurist (Chapter 1/?)

Rayla has been at university for nearly three months, trying and failing to take care of her horn upkeep alone, before she admits defeat and goes to visit a professional horn salon.

It ends up being somewhat less of a terrible experience than she expects.

-

(“You’re human?” She blurted, unthinking, and the smile he’d been wearing went momentarily fixed. A little more professional than it was genuine. Then he huffed, an easy laugh, and she felt herself go red around the ears.

“What gave it away?” Her ceracurist asked, dry, his grin a little lopsided.

Rayla stared, taken off-guard, and gestured expansively at his entire body.)

(Chapter length: 6k. Ao3 link)

---

Rayla pushed through the doors of the salon with a bearing that would have been better suited for heading into battle. Regrettably, there was no one she could legally fight here, so she slunk cautiously in, grimacing at what she saw. She might have hoped to find somewhere to lurk and get her bearings unnoticed, but there was no hiding in that open and well-lit reception area, and no disguising the way that the bell on the door chimed cheerfully at her passing. It was altogether a terrible start to what she fully expected would be a mortifying experience.

A Sunfire elf looked up from the desk and smiled. Their dark skin and hair was typical enough, but the horns caught her eye; she stared for a second before she could avert her gaze. Far from the usual plain gleam of Sunfire horns, these had been carved into elaborate patterns and dyed in an astonishing gradient of red and purple. She’d never seen anything like it outside of the mageskein, or maybe the cover of a magazine. “Welcome!” the elf chirped, friendly. “Do you have an appointment?” Beside them, on the desk, a potted melodaisy sang a tune that she vaguely recognised. It was weirdly anachronistic to find melodaisy music in a place as modern-looking as this.

Rayla stopped short, tension locking her joints. Her neck prickled with self-consciousness. “...Do I need one?” she asked, after a moment, with an edge to her voice. She eyed the door, already wanting desperately to escape. Shouldn’t have listened to Ethari, she thought morosely. This had been a bad idea from the start.

The receptionist inspected her, and in that moment Rayla was entirely certain that they knew exactly what she was about. It was unnerving, the calculating weight of that look. Then it passed, and they waved dismissively. “If you wanted something complex done, yes. But I’m guessing that’s not what you’re here for.”

She gave serious thought to the idea of just...walking out. She could do that, right? But then she’d have to explain the cowardice, such that it was, whenever she next called her family. And what a stupid thing this would be to lose her nerve over. “No.” She agreed grumpily.

“Touch up?” The receptionist questioned. “Basic buff and polish?”

Her shoulders hunched. “Just the filing and buffing,” she relented, in the end. “I’m not here for anything fancy.”

“Polishing is part of our standard service, I’m afraid. Nothing fancy about it, as far as we’re concerned.” The Sunfire elf smiled at her in a placating sort of way. It grated. “Why don’t you go take a seat and I’ll see who’s available?” they gestured at the row of seats, smartly upholstered, arrayed along the wall. Again, Rayla eyed the door. This was apparently noticed. “It’s alright, we’re used to first-timers,” they assured her, already receding from the desk and heading for the door into the salon proper. “It’s really not that scary. Just wait a minute, alright? I’ll be right back.”

They couldn’t have known it. Or maybe they did? But Rayla heard ‘scary’ and stiffened before she could help it, setting her jaw. Very stubbornly indeed, she stalked over to one of the chairs and planted herself in it, staring grimly at the assorted posters and advertisements on the walls. They were, of course, largely advertising different things one could have done to one’s horns. Because this was a horn salon. A horn salon that her entire family had suggested, implied, or outright stated she desperately needed the services of.

It wasn’t her fault that it was hard to get to the undersides of her horns on her own. Even using a complex set of mirrors, working on what you couldn’t see was decidedly challenging. She’d filed off the nasty parts, but apparently, that wasn’t good enough, and she looked unkempt, and undignified, and how do you ever expect to follow your parents into their line of work looking like that, Rayla-

“Ugh,” she muttered to herself, disgruntled, and folded her arms. She glared at a poster that implored her to, in very bold and cheerful lettering, ‘Ask about horn art today!’. Rayla had absolutely no intention of asking about horn art today.

While she was waiting, a Skywing elf emerged from the same door the receptionist had entered, and approached the desk curiously. He turned to her, and as he did, the light caught on his horns. “Did the receptionist leave?” He asked, and Rayla tried very hard not to stare. Not only did this elf have elaborate patterns carved into the horns, but there was – some sort of silvery metallic inlay in there, gleaming bright and almost liquid in the daylight filtering through the window. She hadn’t even known people did that. It was startlingly striking.

“Er,” she said, and “yeah, I think they’ll be back in a minute, though.” The unfamiliar elf accepted this agreeably enough, and stood by the desk to wait.

Sure enough, the receptionist returned in short order, pausing briefly in the doorway to do a double-take at the man waiting there. “Oh, so that’s why he was free,” they muttered to themself, just about loud enough for Rayla’s excellent ears to pick up. More loudly, they said “Tairas! You look fantastic! Glad you decided to try the metallics after all?”

The elf, evidently some sort of repeat customer, chuckled at them as they strode back up to the counter. “Yeah, I wasn’t sure at first, but-“ he waved expressively at his horns. “-wow, right? You’ve got some serious talent working here.”

“We’re very glad to have him, yes,” agreed the receptionist, and then conducted what ended up being a rapid exchange of a staggering amount of currency. Apparently, fancy horn-decorating did not come cheap. Rayla glanced uneasily at the price lists on the walls to reassure herself that what she was here for wouldn’t be so extortionate. Finally, the customer with the fancy metal-patterned horns left, and the receptionist approached her again. “Well, you’re in luck, Callum finished up with Tairas just in time for you,” they told her. “So I can take you through now.”

“Great.” Rayla said, unenthusiastically, and the receptionist snickered at her.

With a friendly pat on her shoulder, they said “It’ll be fine, trust me. And Callum’s one of our best ceracurists anyway, so you’ll be in good hands.”

The words didn’t soothe her. They’d be stranger’s hands, no matter their skill; that was what had unsettled her. Of course it was what had unsettled her. What else?

Still. She supposed if she had to have a stranger’s hands on her horns, at the very least it could be a stranger who knew what they were doing. Rayla sighed, resigned, and followed the receptionist through to the treatment area. She entered a long corridor with yet more doors arrayed along it; some further down its length marked ‘staff only’, others nearer and unadorned. The receptionist took her into the closest, revealing a large room lined with curtained-off booths. The sounds were precisely what she’d expected; the buzz of a half dozen electric buffers in operation, the hum of voices, the shuffling of feet. She could smell keratin dust and horn polish on the air. Horn oil, too.

It ought to have unsettled her further, and it did, a little. But the sight of the curtains had soothed her at once, with all their attendant implications of privacy. Somehow, she’d anticipated something far more open, where she had the sight to go with the sound of however-many elves having their horns groomed. She’d anticipated that others would be able to see her, sat beneath the ministrations of a ceracurist who she didn’t even know.

It had been a stupid expectation, in retrospect. For all that it was more common in the larger cities for elves to see a ceracurist when they needed to, they still had their dignity. Of course there’d be booths. Of course they wouldn’t be able to see each other. Of course.

Her relief at the realisation sustained her until she was led a little further down the room. Only one booth was open and empty, and within it she saw what she expected: a chair, a basin, a mirror. A table of tools. There was no one waiting there for her, but she tensed regardless.

“He’ll be here soon,” reassured the receptionist, as if mistaking the source of her anxiety. “He’s just changing. The metallurgy is careful work, you know.”

She didn’t know, in fact. She didn’t particularly care, either. “Right.” she said, terse, and eventually allowed herself to be prodded over to the waiting chair. Stiffly, she sat. And then the receptionist left her there to wait.

It didn’t take long. On-edge as she was, her ears twitched at the footsteps in the corridor long before anyone entered the room; she traced their approach, staring at the sight of her own terse expression in the mirror. Then, finally, the person drew near enough to pause at the edge of her booth. She could see the edge of their body in the mirror, wearing some sort of dark apron over a uniform.

“Hey there,” he said, friendly, and there was the sound of a curtain being drawn. “So you’re my surprise appointment, huh?”

“Suppose so,” Rayla muttered, eyes on her hands as they tightened in her lap. She still hadn’t looked. She didn’t really want to look at him. This was the person who’d be handling her horns. A stranger. She wasn’t quite ready to put a face to the voice yet. But, ready or not…he stepped into view.

Startled, she blinked up at him, and registered several things in rapid succession. The hair was a little surprising; brown, but smooth in a way you didn’t often get with Sunfire or Earthblood elves, and his skin was pale. Eyes a pleasant forest-green. Cute, Rayla’s mind supplied after a moment, as though to distract herself from the far more obvious conclusion of-

“You’re human?” She blurted, unthinking, and the smile he’d been wearing went momentarily fixed. A little more professional than it was genuine. Then he huffed, an easy laugh, and she felt herself go red around the ears.

“What gave it away?” Her ceracurist asked, dry, his grin a little lopsided.

Rayla stared, taken off-guard, and gestured expansively at his entire body. The lack of horns, the rounded ears, the – the five-finger hands, so strange in their shape that for a moment she couldn’t pull her eyes from them. It wasn’t as if she’d never seen humans before. But these circumstances were weird.

“Yeah, that’s fair.” He acknowledged. He stepped up to the table of assorted tools, inspecting them, and nodded before returning his eyes to her. Again that lopsided smile. “Don’t worry, though. I promise I’m good at my job, even if I don’t have my own horns to practice on.”

Her face burned, blood flushing hot in her veins at the sudden and abrupt reminder of what she was here for. Of what he was here for. “…Is that something people worry about?” She found herself asking, struck by how practiced those words had seemed, like he’d said them – or some variation of them – a great many times.

“Eh, sometimes.” He shrugged, then went over to pull the rest of the curtains closed. “It’s not something people expect, anyway. A human ceracurist, I mean.”

“I definitely didn’t,” she muttered, not quite under her breath, and he snickered.

“It’s okay, I’m used to it.” He offered a smile, and then – to her surprise – a short polite bow, in the human style, fist clasped over his heart. She’d not seen anyone do that since she was a child. “I’m Callum, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

Thoughts suddenly muddled by some very old memories, she blinked, then nodded cautiously. “Rayla.” She hesitated. “Same?” Under the circumstances, she shouldn’t have found it nice to meet him. But, unaccountably, she did.

“Is it okay if we get started?” He asked then, nodding to his table of implements. “Don’t want to hurry you, but this does take a while.”

Whatever ease she’d managed to find in the brief conversation abruptly fled her, and she went still and wordless. She glanced at him, at his face, for all of a second before the mortification overcame her and she had to hide behind her hands. “Moon above,” she muttered, into her palms, shoulders hunching. “Ugh.”

There was a pause. “You alright there?” His voice was only half joking.

“…Yeah.” She said eventually, and forced her hands down. “Just…”

He sounded sympathetic. “Never had your horns done outside the family, huh?” She made some sort of affirmative noise, and he nodded understandingly. “It’s okay, we get a lot of that here. If it helps, just remember that it’s a professional setting, and doesn’t come with the normal implications, okay?”

She sighed. “I’ll do my best.” Despite that resolution, though, she still couldn’t help the embarrassed grumble when he draped a gown around her front and shoulders, ostensibly to shield her clothes from horn debris, and leaned the chair she was in back towards the basin.

“Do you prefer to have a hair-shield on, or to have your hair washed afterwards?” He asked, after a moment, and she balked. She hadn’t even realised that was an option. But – of course, otherwise people would have to leave the salon with their hair wet with horn-oil and full of disgusting keratin dust and flakes…

“Hair shield,” she opted, quickly, and he hummed his agreement.

“No problem.” He pulled something from the table with a rustling noise. “Does mean I won’t be able to get at the first centimetre or so of your horns, though, so keep that in mind.”

Worth it, she thought. It was something of a mercy, even. The horns themselves were just insensate keratin on the outsides…but the skin at the beds? That was sensitive. She’d be glad to avoid that particular intimacy.

Even as she thought it, the ceracurist lowered something over one of her horns, and then the other, perceptible by the light and gentle weight grazing over them. She went utterly still, and peered up to try to see in the mirror what he was doing. It was a kind of…hood, or shroud, with two horn-holes in it. And some sort of drawstring around both holes. She watched with a bizarre and anxious tension as he pressed the hood down and then tightened the drawstrings around the base of her horns until they were flush with the hornbeds.

Then, visible in the mirror, he paused and looked her horns over. His expression didn’t change much, but she could see the minute lift of his eyebrows. Her face burned. “Been a while,” she offered, by way of explanation for the state of them, and she saw his smile in the reflection.

“You’ve done a pretty good job by yourself, really.” He said generously, dipping something into the basin with a distinct watery splash. “The oversides are pretty neatly filed.” Briefly, there was the lightest sensation of weight on her right horn, like he’d touched a fingertip to it. A shiver of apprehension stiffened her shoulders. “You’ve done this ridge a bit flat, though. And the undersides…” He paused, like he couldn’t think of anything charitable to say on that moment’s notice.

Rayla closed her eyes, embarrassed and unnerved at once. “Ugh.”

“They’re hard to get to, I know,” he soothed, and then planted a wet soapy cloth on the horn in question. “It’s okay. I can fix it up.”

She sighed, neck prickling with tension. “Sure.”

The next few minutes she sat silently warring with her impulse to twitch at every touch on her horns. Given the ceracurist spent said minutes washing those horns, this was a considerable challenge. The sensation of heat from warm water radiating through the keratin wasn’t unfamiliar, and neither was the scrub of the brush – but she’d never experienced either outside the company of family before. It was unsettling. Reminding herself that it was professional didn’t help that, either – all it did was calm the flush in her cheeks a little.

“I’m guessing you moved here recently, then.” The ceracurist – Callum – said after a while. “Away from family.”

She startled a little, and glanced at his reflection in the mirror. As best she could, anyway, with her head tipped mostly backwards. Her nose obstructed most of her view from this angle. “…Yeah. Few months back.”

He paused. “You’re a student?” He guessed, and she supposed it wasn’t a difficult leap to make. She was the right age, this part of the city was packed with students, and the first term had started nearly three months ago in March. The conclusion was obvious. She offered a vague hum of agreement to confirm it, and he was silent for a while. “That’s actually kind of impressive,” he said at last. “Most of the other new students with tricky horns gave up trying to do it themselves after like, a month. Not three. You’ve been managing pretty well.”

Rayla snorted. “Tricky horns?” She repeated, ignoring the rest for now, and he huffed at her.

“Moonshadow, Skywing, you know. Tricky horns.” He elaborated. She could practically hear the smile in his voice. “The Sunfire elves manage pretty well, theirs are simple enough.”

“And meanwhile we have the most annoying kind of all,” Rayla muttered, of her own race. “Stupid ridges and all.”

“Well, if you’ve not seen a Skywing elf when they’re casting their shells, maybe hold off on making that call.” He sounded amused. “But yeah, you guys don’t exactly have it easy. We get a lot of Moonshadow elves coming in here for horn help.”

“Students?”

“Mostly. But there’s other elves around who don’t have anyone in their personal lives they’d trust enough, too. So they come here.” He removed the brush, wiped her horns off, and went for a distinctive tool on the table. An electric buffer. Considerably faster and more effective than doing it by hand, she knew, but they were expensive enough that a lot of elves didn’t have one. Her family had, though. They all shared the tools. So she knew what to expect.

The noise of it started up, and accordingly their conversation dwindled. She felt the buzz of the buffer against her right horn a moment later, angled carefully into one of the ridges there. As always, the sensation hummed straight through the keratin to the vaguely-sensitive skin beneath; it tingled. The next while passed like that, with the ceracurist occasionally sitting her up and coaxing her to move her head this way or that to get better angles on her horns, paying particular attention to the neglected undersides. She didn’t even want to think about how many keratin flakes must be littering the gown he’d put on her.

Her inner-horn had gone thoroughly numb from the vibrations by the time he switched the buffer off and set it aside to get the cloth again. “I’ll just wipe this down and go for a second run, then do the same on your other horn, alright?” He said, soothingly, probably seeing how she twitched at every motion, uncertain what he’d do next.

She tried to relax a little. It was uncomfortable, yes, but…this was his job, and it – that was all it was. Plenty of elves had their horns done by ceracurists. It was fine. “Right.” She muttered, and tried not to flinch when she felt the weight of the cloth on her horn again. More to distract herself than anything else, she asked “How long have you been doing this?” Except, once she’d actually asked, she was curious. How did a human even end up working in a horn salon? Why was he in an elven city in the first place?

The ceracurist huffed, and said, impishly, “This? Probably coming up to ten minutes, so far.” He tapped her horn cheerfully, as if to indicate it, and went back to wiping. Her cheeks heated instantly; she couldn’t exactly help it, with that very direct reminder that he was touching her horns.

She rolled her eyes anyway. “Ha-ha,” she said, dryly, and he snickered at her.

“About two years, now.” He relented after a moment. “I’m only in a few times a week, but, eh. It’s a hobby. And I get paid for it, so.” He shrugged, then went for the buffer again. Accordingly, there was no more talking for a while, but in that interim her interest grew. He looked around her age, or maybe even younger…and he’d been doing this for years?

She’d assumed, from his accent, that he came from one of the human countries. Possibly even Katolis, though she wasn’t great at telling the different West Xadia accents apart. But if he’d been living here for years…was he a resident? Long-term? That was rare. The curiosity nagged at her enough that she half-forgot the embarrassment of having her horns handled by a stranger, and when he put the buffer down again, she said “You don’t have a Gullcrest accent.”

“That’s probably one of the politest ways anyone’s tried to ask me where I’m from,” he mused, and for a second she felt like an absolute racist boor before he waved dismissively at her. He explained “It’s fine, people get curious, I don’t mind. I didn’t grow up here or anything, I just came for the university.”

Rayla startled. “You’re a student?”

He smiled, and this time he looked decidedly proud of himself. “Mastery student, even.” He agreed cheerfully, and she stopped short, turning her head over her shoulder to squint at him. “You know, it’s hard to work on your horns if you’re facing me,” he told her, very reasonably, but she was busy inspecting his face. He had to be around the same age as her, surely. And he was on a masters degree?

“How old are you?” She demanded, suddenly completely uncertain of her ability to judge human ages.

The ceracurist looked pleased at the question, as if he relished every chance to show off the absurdly young age at which he was pursuing a mastery in…whatever it was he studied. “Eighteen.” He said, and then gently nudged her into turning around again. She made an incredulous face at him, but obliged after a moment. “How about you?”

“Nineteen,” she answered, distractedly, trying to parse the mystery of her ceracurist’s unlikely academic circumstances. Generally people were only allowed to pursue a mastery when they’d done an apprenticeship or undergraduate degree already, and those were never less than three years long. An apprenticeship, then? She couldn’t imagine a fifteen-year-old being let into the university…

Unceremoniously, the buzz of the buffer interrupted her thoughts and the conversation, so they fell quiet again. It was him who spoke first when he was done with the first pass on her other horn. “What are you studying?”

However logical it was as a follow-up question, it still caught her off-guard. “Er.” She scrambled for the name, mind suddenly blank. A moment later she supplied “Professional Security. And Tactics.”

“Huh.” He sounded bemused. “I know someone on that course, actually. He’s second year now.”

Rayla snorted. “How’s he finding it?”

“Says there’s way more math than he thinks is fair. And he thinks Professor Sadris is evil.”

That neatly matched her observations thus far, at least. “Sounds about right.” After that, the second buffing run silenced them again, and she was left in thought. What would a human be studying at Gullcrest at a mastery level? How long had he lived here? She’d seen a handful of humans at the university, but…well, they stood out. There weren’t a lot of them. Had she seen him before, perhaps? There was something weirdly familiar about him…

She was all set to come out and ask one of the dozen questions on her mind when the buffer stopped, but he just said “I’m about done with this now, so it’s onto the polishing next. That won’t take as long, but there probably will be horn-polish splatter, so…brace yourself, I guess.”

“Isn’t that what the hair shield is for?” She asked, neatly distracted, and was surprised to realise that most of her nerves had disappeared, somewhere between her curiosity and the human ceracurist’s efficient work.

“And the apron,” he agreed. “But it does still get messy. You want any colours?”

“Colour?” She echoed, disconcerted, and he seemed to understand what she was asking.

“Horn polish can come in colours, with dyes in it. It’s a really easy way to add colour to horns. If you’re just here for basic care, though, that’s fine.”

“Er.” She thought for a moment on that startling gradient of colour on the receptionist’s horns. Was that how theirs had been done, or was there some other method needed for something that striking? Either way… “No, no colours. Thanks, though?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. You’ve got a nice base horn colour, anyway.” He said, as if making comments like that was the most normal thing in the world. For a ceracurist, it might well be; but her cheeks flushed an instant and virulent red regardless. “It’s a good clear dark purple. It’ll look great when it’s polished up.”

Rayla wondered, amid her embarrassment, when she’d last seen her horns polished. Her parents did the buffing, sure, but polishing…not so much. It was a lot of work without the special oils and tools. She thought maybe they’d done it once, when she was pretty young, for one particular formal occasion. Aside from that, though… “I don’t even know what my horns look like polished,” she admitted, flustered, and he paused for a moment.

“Huh.” He said, just a little surprised. “Well, the colour goes darker, and a lot shinier. Looks really nice, I think. You’ll see.” And, with that, he uncapped the horn polish, the smell hitting her like a slap to the face. Her nose wrinkled, and she wondered how many times she’d have to wash her hair to get the residual stink of it out. The hair shield probably wouldn’t be able to keep all of it off, after all.

Her ceracurist seemed entirely oblivious to how awful the smell was at close range, but she supposed he’d had practice withstanding it. Either that, or he’d burned out his sense of smell in the first week of his alleged two years. She closed her eyes a couple of minutes in, the acrid reek of the stuff making them water and sting. It felt like she was dousing her sinuses with acid every time she inhaled.

Callum chuckled at her, as if he knew precisely what she was thinking. “The stuff we use is a lot stronger than what you’re probably used to.” He said cheerfully. “Has a pretty interesting smell, right?”

“It feels like it’s burning my nose,” she complained, lifting a hand to rub at it with annoyance. “And it’s making my eyes water.” The sensation was rather alike being too close to the epicentre of a very enthusiastic onion-chopping endeavour.

“Yeah, we have spells on to keep it out of our eyes so we can actually see what we’re doing,” Callum said, uncapping the bottle again. It decanted a fresh wave of acrid reek into the surrounding air. “It’s not harmful, though, just sort of stings. Plus, I’m only using the full-strength stuff because your horns haven’t been done in a long time. It’s a lot weaker when it’s just a normal touch-up.” Though she couldn’t see his face, she could practically hear the grin. “Come back a little sooner next time, and it won’t smell this bad.”

Come back? “Ugh,” she said, en lieu of addressing that statement properly, and fell quiet to ruminate disconcertedly on what he’d said. Come back? She hadn’t thought about it, but – of course, she’d need to come back. She was going to be at university for years, and would barely be home for any of that. If she didn’t want her horns to get disgusting again, trips like this would have to be an ongoing thing.

“Every month, is usually a good bet,” Callum said, as if she’d actually spoken the question that was suddenly on her mind. “Usually between half-moon and new moon is the best time for you guys. You get a lot more active keratin growth around full moon, so if you wait till later, the work we do will usually stay put until the next month.”

Rayla frowned at the mirror. “Do humans have some kind of mind-reading power I don’t know about?” Her tone was dry, for all that she was a little off-put at how well he could apparently read her. It…well, it was useful information, though. She hadn’t known that keratin grew faster around Full Moon, for all that it made sense. She wondered if she should be bothered by learning something about how her own horns worked from a human.

He snorted, but took a few seconds to respond. “Not me, that’s for sure.” He said, lightly, and finally put the stinking polishing-stuff down. “Can’t speak for other humans, though. I think we probably don’t have secret mind-reading societies anywhere, but you never know. Weirder things have happened.”

She thought of the huge scandal of a few years back and made a face. “True enough,” she sighed, turning her neck to inspect what he was doing. “Are you done yet?”

Having moved enough to have eyes on him, she was able to watch as his lips turned up in a wry smile. “You’re that eager to escape, huh?”

Rayla rolled her eyes at him. “Escape the polishing? Yes. It stinks.”

He snickered, but nodded, and went for a more normal cleaning cloth that she was deeply glad to see. “Yeah, that part’s done. I’ll rinse off now and then put some oil on to dry, and that’ll be it.” He wrung the cloth over the basin and then coaxed her head around again, lifting his hands to her horns.

She blinked. “What, ‘it’ as in done?”

“Yep. I like to think I’m pretty speedy at the whole buff-and-polish thing by now.”

“…Huh.” Nonplussed, Rayla went quiet.

She could hear the smile in his voice. “Wasn’t as bad as you thought?” He guessed, as on-point as ever, and she felt her cheeks heat again. It was quite a question for someone to ask when their hands happened to be on your horns.

Rayla folded her arms under the protective gown. “….Maybe,” she admitted, begrudgingly, and sat there while the warmth of the water and his hands crept through her horns. The gentle slide of the cloth was easily perceptible, a shift of weight and echoing sensation in the living core. A stranger’s hands, and she was just…sitting there. She couldn’t quite get her head around it. But he was right. It wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it would be.

“Make an appointment for next month, when you’re on your way out,” he suggested, setting the cloth back and uncapping some other sort of oil. This one, in sharp contrast to the polish, let off a surprisingly pleasant smell. Faintly sweet, and reminiscent of the lighter oils Ethari used on some of his woodcraft. A pang of nostalgia, just shy of homesickness, stabbed through her gut. “That way it’ll be all sorted for next time.”

“Mm.” She shrugged lightly, noncommittal, a little perturbed at the little secretive thing unfurling in her chest that wanted to come back. Not for the mortifying ordeal of having her horns handled, certainly not, but…

With the finishing oil applied, Callum released the drawstrings from around her horns and pulled the hair-cover away. “All done. Take a look,” he invited, nudging her head up, and reached out to remove the gown while she automatically looked where he’d pointed her. For a moment, she was utterly stunned, wide-eyed at the unfamiliar sight of her horns gleaming darkly in the mirror, perfect to the every ridge. She was still silent when he spoke again, saying “See? Just like I told you. Your horns polish up really nicely.”

She looked up reflexively, expression unguarded, and could do nothing to stop the quicksilver flush that his words brought to her cheeks. He was smiling at her, wide and genuine and a little lopsided.

It took what felt like far too long for her to manage to speak. “I suppose?” She offered, averting her eyes to the mirror, where she watched herself schooling her face into something a little less transparent.

He patted her shoulder, friendly, then reached out a hand – five-fingered and alien – to help her up. She stared at it for a moment, then took it. His fingers were warm, and soft from horn-oil. She could feel a trace of it left on her skin when he let go. “It was good to meet you, Rayla,” he said, with that same smile. “Maybe I’ll see you next time.”

She averted her eyes for a moment. “…Maybe.” She agreed, finally, and managed to master herself enough to flash a tentative smile back at him. “Er. Thanks, Callum.”

Rayla was a little too busy trying not to look outwardly flustered to pay much attention to the next few minutes, but as she found herself escorted back to the reception area, she felt strangely disappointed to see the door close on her ceracurist. The receptionist was eyeing her appraisingly as she eventually summoned the presence of mind to go fishing for her money.

“Looks like he treated you well enough. You’re not all tense anymore.” They observed, looking pleased for some reason. “Good on you for not making a fuss, either.”

She blinked, drawn out of her reverie. “What would I make a fuss about?” She questioned, taken-aback.

“He’s human,” the receptionist said, like it was obvious. “People can be stupid about it sometimes. But you weren’t, which is nice, because otherwise we’d have had to throw you out with bad horns, and that would be embarrassing for everyone. I assume I’m booking you in for next month?”

Rayla was still trying to process the words and didn’t register the question for a moment. Distractedly, she said “Yes? I think?”

The receptionist eyed her. “Three weeks,” they decided. “We’ll book you in for waning crescent. Callum works weekends and Wednesday afternoons only, so if you want another time, you’ll need to go with a different ceracurist.” They looked at her expectantly. For a second Rayla was flustered by the implied suggestion, but then she realised that it was probably just standard practice for people to see the same ceracurist every time. Certainly it would be less uncomfortable that way. She couldn’t even imagine having to put her horns into the hands of a new stranger every month.

She cleared her throat, blinked, then tried to consult her mental schedule. “Three weeks…” she muttered to herself, thinking. “Er. Wednesday afternoon?”

They flipped through their papers, squinting. “Four-thirty? He’s pretty booked for the rest of that window.”

“That works,” she said, hoping her voice sounded normal and not-flustered, and supplied her name to have it written into the schedule. It was another weird anachronism; most people would have written it into a computer, but here this elf was using a notebook instead. It was set aside by the potted plant once closed; the plant in question broke off from its recitation of music to mimic the sound of the doorbell note-perfect. That was the problem with melodaisies. You could teach them all the music you liked, but as soon as they heard someone whistling, they might well just start imitating that instead.

“Thanks for coming,” the receptionist said, after shooting an exasperated glance at their plant. “We’ll see you next month.”

Rayla took the hint, and went at once for the door. She escaped with the ring of a bell, a palpable sense of relief, and considerably shinier horns than she’d gone in with.

 ---

End chapter.

 Notes:

Welcome to the first meet-cute I’ve ever written! Also the first story whose entire purpose is essentially romance. Because it’s me, there is a broader potential plot thread at work, as well as cool worldbuilding, but given I have no idea how much of this I’m actually going to write, I’m not really worrying about that too much at this point.

Hope everyone had fun with this first chapter, and that everyone is curious about what the heck is up with Callum.

 Story notes-

 Setting:

I’d loosely describe the setting as canon spliced with piaj twisted by most of a millennium of alternate history and technological development. Essentially, it’s sort of a modern AU, but not really.

Because this story is for fun, I’m wiping real-world-modern vibes over it wherever I want to/think I can justify it, and same goes for my own personal university experience vibes.

 Worldbuilding:

A great, great deal of the worldbuilding is taken from my primary project – Peace Is A Journey – and adapted for the alternate historical context that this setting involves. I have even borrowed several elf OCs (at least three) from piaj and its sequel. History in this setting diverges from canon some time after the banishment of humans from Eastern Xadia – though I’ve not narrowed the timeline down precisely, it’s likely that the first couple hundred years of history went very similarly to how I’ve ironed it out in piaj, though this isn’t likely to be hugely important.

However, despite the similarities, this AU’s broader global history and foundational metaphysics are completely different to piaj. Worldbuilding and metaphysical specifics that aren’t incompatible with this difference, which is most of them, remain.

I’ve involuntarily put a fair amount of thought into the setting’s worldbuilding, and a lot of it is pretty cool, but considering it is a for-fun project, I’m not too concerned about specifics or ‘balancing’, so to speak. This means that I will be trying not to put huge amounts of thought into why some technologies are advanced and some aren’t. I am trying to keep the Worldbuilding Complexity setting to a dull roar, pretty much, and only develop the stuff that matters.

 Glossary:

Ceracurist: a professional horn-salonist; one who cares for horns. From Greek ‘keras’, horn (same root as keratin or polycerate), and Latin ‘cura’, care (same root as manicure or pedicure or even cure). Technically this sort of root-mixing is sometimes seen as bad form, but it works just fine in context.

Mageskein: magic internet, pretty much. This is used almost exclusively in Eastern Xadia.

Gullcrest: an elven city located along the southern coast of Eastern Xadia. The majority of the story will take place here. The base concept and location of Gullcrest was taken from piaj worldbuilding and heavily adapted for the Ceracurist setting.

 Extras:

A picture demonstrating an unpolished and a polished bull horn from the same pair, to demonstrate how much of a difference it makes.

[ruakichan]

OH MY GOD the last chapter for this part of King’s Raid dropped today and fuck I CRIED SO MUCH.  I’m a sucker for ‘big sibling defying the odds to save their younger sibs’ and Clause is 100% everything I want in an older brother and r.clause is goddamn hot in how implacable and tragic he is and sob I CRIED A LOT WHEN POWER OF NAKAMA SHOWED UP IN THE FORM OF ROI AND CLEO BEING THE MIRACLE MARIA PRAYED FOR TO SAVE KASEL AND FREY (GOD WHY WAS THAT SCENE SCRIPTED SO WELL?!!?) AND i started the game not liking maria and morrah but holy shit i love these two so much now and i hope they live happily together i had to recharge my tablet so i haven’t done the myriad of after-chapter substories also morrah’s outfit was fucking hot here? what outfit was that? i hope it’s not LOV

It was a good final chapter, made even more excellent by so much nice imagery.

There was a lot of effective framing with the story scenes; the game uses low count models for gameplay but they really do what they can to use them in story sequences for maximum emotional impact. (As an aside, I wish Exos would do the same thing—that game could really kill it if they actually bothered to lean into their story more and use their models for story like KR does. but i’m pretty sure EH only has two devs working on the whole thing lol)

It doesn’t take much but some good lighting and framing to really add a lot of dramatic impact to the story.

ANYHOO, Lucikiel is my boy (he’s my best unit), but lawd, he really went hard in on the villainy.  Did get a hilariously awesome shot of him looking absolutely irritated that these jrpg heroes just refused to be defeated though:

He’s been temporarily banished, but hopefully he’ll make a return since Ezekiel really needs some character growth, which they hinted at with the substories for the last chapter. (I don’t care for Theo’s faction, but I do like Ezekiel a bunch.) Luc felt a bit one-dimensional, so I was a bit disappointed how he was handled tbh.

Kasel’s new look? Though? Can we get a skin of that? Or something? I really like the colors and his eyes are super pretty with that gradient from purple to yellow?

Anyway, glad they did address Kasel’s guilt and didn’t have his former allies handwave ‘oh he was just possessed so it’s ok he did all that genociding,’ which tends to be pretty common in jrpg fantasy tropes. (yes i know the game is korean but you know what i mean) He’s also really grown up a lot from being the generic plucky young hero. Frey just being constantly angry and conflicted even to the end, even at Clause’s sacrifice, was really great and just hit me hard in the feels; this isn’t a happy ending for her either and it barely qualifies as a bittersweet one.  Usually it’s the female characters that tend to have the sweet kind heart, but it’s Kasel who was constantly holding out against the darkness and she who embraced it, because she was so bitter against the world.

But oh my god they brought back ‘you were always late’ line toward Clause (which is how Frey framed her blame on Clause for never being there for them) and oh my GOD he was like ‘yeah i was late again’ while he was dying and THANKS GAME I NEED TO REHYDRATE AGAIN  (I really love the ‘late’ line, cause when I first started the game, Clause was absent a lot despite being a supposedly important figure to Kasel and Frey, so he felt kinda... ‘not there’ and forgettable, even though this wasn’t explicitly pointed out by the game. TURNS OUT THIS WAS A FUCKING PLOT POINT MANY CHAPTERS IN.)

And yeah, I got a bit spoiled that Clause is actually in stasis similar to Siegfried, but that doesn’t mean I’m still not torn up about it ok.

You did good, Clause.

[skunkandgrenade]

Cosmo Series: Displayed

Prev Next

Taglist: @rat-father

Fanart for this chapter

Another chapter of Cosmo suffering! To better visualize, here’s a link to what he was wearing and what his pose was, and here’s one about the house so you’re better situated and can better imagine where he is

CONTENT WARNING: nsfw mention, nudity (kinda sexual), noncon touch, displayed whumpee, humiliation, fear, anxiety, electric shock, stress position (kinda), tied up, drooling, gagged, conditioning, creepy whumpers, intimate whumpers, dehumanization

Displayed

Cosmo hadn’t been thrown back in the basement for its last mistake and it was extremely grateful. But deep down, it still thought about how at least the basement didn’t have those pictures of it framed on the walls.

Now it couldn’t walk around without seeing itself in its weakest moment, forced to remember that horrible day over and over again.

It remembered how bad its arms hurt even days after, and since then Master forced it to do yoga everyday.

It was growing a bit more flexible and even made some muscles, but it was scared because that meant Master would put it in more uncomfortable positions.

•

Lately, Cosmo felt even more anxious than usual. Master kept rearranging things and being on his phone, something that he usually didn’t do. It had no idea what this was about and really hoped it wasn’t about it.

Master kept pacing around and it had to follow him since he was holding its leash. Its knees hurt and it was tired, but it didn’t dare make a sound.

He was on the phone with someone and though his tone was happy-sounding, Cosmo could see how stressed out he actually was.

“Yes, it starts at 5pm.” Pause. “No, you don’t have to bring any food or drinks, I’m taking care of everything.” Pause. “Yes, there will be cages and display devices.” Pause. “No, this is not a sale event, just a celebration.” Pause. “Of course, thank you.” Pause. “Yes, see you tomorrow.”

Then he put his phone back in his pocket.

“Okay, finally, everything is set.” He turned towards his pet. “You better behave well in front of the guests tomorrow, darling.”

Its heart skipped a beat.

Guests?

What did he mean, guests?

“Oh, come on, darling, don’t be like that! It’ll be fun, I swear! You’ll get lots of love and attention and you’ll maybe even make new friends!” He crouched and patted its head.

“M-Master, please...”

“Please what? They— well, no, I was gonna say ‘they won’t bite’ but I can’t guarantee that.” He chuckled. “But they won’t hurt you, I’ll make sure of that, okay? You don’t want to make people think you’re a useless pet, right?”

“N-No..! It-it’ll be good, Master! Good-good pet!”

“You better be.” He threatened with a smile.

His entire energy in that moment sent a shiver down its spine.

•

Master had just spent three hours dressing it and putting on its makeup. It had an extra long stretching session this morning and it was already tired before the guests even arrived. It was terrified of messing up and humiliating Master in front of everyone, and even more terrified about the punishment it would get if it did afterwards.

It looked at itself in the mirror while Master made sure it looked presentable. Its eyelids had been painted with a purple and blue shiny gradient and so did its lips, its cheeks were a dark purple and its hair was loose except for two buns on the top of its head, and Master had added washable blue to make it match with the rest of its outfit and makeup. It was wearing a long glittery and flow-y purple and blue dress with shiny blue high heeled boots that stopped under its knees. The boots were secured with locks so it couldn’t take them off, but the heels weren’t too high and Master did teach it how to properly walk in them after he saw how much it had struggled at first. Everything matched together and fitted it perfectly, accentuating each of its features and would surely put it in the spotlight.

“Okay, that’s good, you look divine, darling.” He smiled as he kissed it on the shoulder from behind.

“T-Thank you, Ma-Master...”

“Now, come on, our guests should arrive soon.”

Its stomach felt as if it was tied in a knot. It was about to meet people who were similar to Master and it couldn’t be good. And they would apparently bring their own pets too... it didn’t know what to expect, Master did say that they wouldn’t hurt it, but who knew what his perception of hurt was?

It reluctantly followed him outside of the bedroom and into the open place that had been rearranged to become a display room.

There were lights shining on pedestals with food and couches all around, there was even a kind of cage on one side where there was a sign in front of it saying ‘for sale’.

It had seen the room like this before, but it was still as horrified, especially knowing it would get put on display.

“Get up there, darling.” Ordered Master once they were in front of the pedestal in the middle.

It got up without a word despite feeling sick and scared, and looked anxiously as its Master circled it with blue and purple Christmas lights.

“King Dancer Pose.”

Master had made it practice this yoga pose a lot so it wasn’t hard to do.

It lifted its right leg and arched its back, passing its arms above its head and folding them towards its back, holding its right feet.

“If you move, I’ll let everyone punish you in their own way. Do you understand?”

It couldn’t talk. It was too scared. So it nodded and closed its eyes.

It wasn’t tied too tightly, though it knew if it relaxed, the rope would dig in its skin and cut its circulation. It had no idea how long it would have to stay like that, but it didn’t dare ask.

Once Master was done, he shoved a spider gag in its mouth, making it whimper.

“You look so beautiful like this, darling.” He stroked its cheek and then went beside it.

He plugged in the lights, lighting it up like a piece of art.

Then it heard the doorbell ring. It felt its heart sink to its stomach as Master left and went downstairs to let the guests in.

After a few seconds of silence, it heard him talk with people, but the sound was too faint for it to understand any words.

It heard more and more people come in, loud laughing and talking, and it was just there, all alone and waiting for this night to end.

It didn’t want to be alone, but it didn’t want to have strangers look at it and touch it.

It just wanted to be with Master.

The only thing it could do while waiting was to try to stop drooling and look at itself in the mirrors that were placed around the pedestals. It hated being like this, being so vulnerable and unaware of its fate, but it couldn’t get away and didn’t even dare to try.

It stayed alone for what it assumed was over an hour and its body was starting to get tired.

Then, it heard footsteps coming up the stairs and a lot of chatter. It felt its heart rush and beat loudly in its chest as it looked from the corner of its eyes the people coming towards it accompanied by Master.

It heard people exclaiming and talking about it as if it was just some piece of furniture.

“Wow, truly beautiful!” One of them said as they approached it. “How did you even find one so spectacular?”

It started sobbing. It hated this, it hated this so much.

People were circling it, commenting on its body, mocking it as it helplessly drooled and cried.

They passed behind it where it’s dress was lifted and passed vile comments on what they’d like to do to it. It was thankful it at least was allowed to wear a thong, but it still felt so naked and exposed.

Then people started touching it. Caressing its leg that was holding all of its weight, stroking its face and wiping its tears away, while Master just watched from afar.

At some point, it couldn’t take it anymore and started squirming and whimpering loudly, trying to tell them to stop and to get away.

The only response it got from this was getting shocked.

It squealed and its whole body tensed up as people were laughing at it, and when it was finally done, its entire body went limp. The rope started digging in its skin but it didn’t have the strength to hold itself up anymore.

Silent tears ran down its face as the guests started touching it again and talking about how misbehaved it was.

Its mind went blank as it gave up, finally accepting its place. It couldn’t fight anymore, fighting only meant more pain.

It was a pet, something to put on display, something to touch and mock, and that was it. Nothing more, nothing less.

[shadowknight465]

The Wrath of Life

Light. Light of all colours in rainbow except for purple.  Surrounded by a golden aura. It was beautiful yet he is afraid.  When he tried to touch it. It burned him. Causing him screech a unholy sound with repeated phrases like. "Sinful creature and True spawn of hell."

There was a knock at the door.

Do these people have a life outside of bullying me?

He thought as he opened the door.  Except that the person was not who he is expecting, in fact he doesn't think he has ever seen him before. Before he could the stranger's name. He barge in straight to the guest room. "What a lovely house you two have, Nightmare." He said putting down his things . "Do you mind if you can run hot bath for me?" He asked.

"Um. First of all I don't even know you.  Second you can't just go to people's houses and expect them to treat you like royalty. " He said crossing his arms. The stranger look at him. "I thought Dream already told you about me." Nightmare thought of what Dream said before he left. "Neil?"

"That's me."

"Hold on if you are really Neil then give me proof."

Neil removed his cloak. Revealing that the cat has lost an arm. Nightmare felt guilty.  " Don't put on a sad face little boy.  You are just being protective of your home, and that I applaud you." Neil woke Nightmare with his thoughts. Neil then smile. " I guess I forgot that Dream told me you're not very trustful with strangers." Neil scratch his head "Speaking of which ,  Do you happen to know a person name Hubert Cumberdale or better known as Salad Fingers?" Nightmare gulped.  It's been awhile since he seen Hurbert his first and possibly only friend.  Last time he ever saw him was the time he had to take Hubert to the asylum. "Yes. I've know him." He answered. 

"Hubert wanted me tell you thank you." Neil responded.

"For what?" Nightmare asked.  He doesn't remember giving Hubert any kindness in fact he thinks what he did was horrible. "Because of your actions Huber is now married with a beautiful wife they had a lovely child." Neil responded.  Nightmare sigh in relief. " So I was worry  for nothing?"

"Yup. Now can you please run me a hot bath?" Neil responded. Nightmare decided this time he would run him as hot bath.

~~~~~

Dinner was not like what he was expecting.  Instead of him cooking it was Neil. But at least it was good. Baked beans with roasted ham. With a cup of wine. He felt comfortable knowing the person living with him for a while is friendly. "Hey Night, what time is it.?" Neil asked. Nightmare looked outside. "Well it is dark." He said. "Well time for me to hit the sack." Neil got up and went to his bedroom. 

Maybe I should go to sleep as well.

Nightmare thought. He took of his shirt. Brush his teeth with a dry corn cob. And went the his bed.  Falling asleep as soon his head hit the pillow. However instead of his normal nightmares this one felt wrong. He was wearing the same clothes Moon was except it was mostly black and sliver. He has markings all of him and he was behind a female paladin. Her skin was kissed by the sun itself. Her short hair looks like fire and her eyes were a red and yellow gradient.

"Sun. Is something wrong?" He spoke, but it wasn't his voice.  The paladin said nothing. "Sun?" The paladin turn with a flaming sword in her hand. "What are you doing?" He said backing away slowly, but the girl's eyes turned snake-like. And she jumped to him. Stabbing him with her blade. He quickly got the blade off of him screaming.  "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?" The girl didn't answer.  Instead she showed her snake-like fangs smiling. He knew this was a fight so he summoned his unprepared scythe. The girl called for help claiming Moon was a traitor again and all the women that came looks familiar.  "But Sun. Didn't Moon said-" One of girls tried the reason. "She lied to us again." She cut her off. Nightmare felt betrayal, but he doesn't understand why. None of the girls responded and attacked him. One tore his mask and shot him in his missing eye with a arrow.  A mix of magic and weapons overpowered him. He knows he can kill everyone if he takes his gloves, but he made a vow to never used his bare hands. So he decided to do the next self defense.  By placing a cursed on them. One where they are trapped in limbo. He place his scythe on the ground and chant in latin. However the paladin attacked him in the back. He felt his life draining from him as he hears a man scream. "Mi Nina." He shut his eyes for the final time with the feeling of wrath and sorrow.

Nightmare woke up in a cold sweat. As he looked around he saw that the scythe Moon gave him was with breaking. Eventually turning a bit bigger with a moth at the bottom. 

What just happened?

He thought. Maybe another vision? He eventually fell back to sleep. He'll think about it in the morning.

~~~~

The autumn harvest festival has arrived and Nightmare put on his more regal garment. Neil was getting a few beers and the townsfolk had forgot he existed.  He was thinking about looking into the lore of the festival until a mysterious stanger showed up wearing strange garments.  She was pretty however.  Skin that was kiss by the sun, flaming hair that's been put up by a high ponytail.  A gold-red mask covering half her face, but not fully her scar. 

The priest was the first to got up to her. "Hello madam." He said.

"Olá" She responded.  "Huh?"

"I said hello in my native tongue." She answered.

"Oh. Anyways  What a pretty thing like you brings in our beautiful village?" He said.

Here he goes again trying to groom someone.

Nightmare thought as he rolled his eyes.  He look at her again and felt off. Like he met her before.

It wasn't long till she spotted him. She walks towards him.  Later squinting her eye. "M-Moonie?" She asked almost crying. Nightmare felt awkward.  "No, I'm Nightmare." He said. She blinked. "Oh my mistake, you just reminded me of an old friend of mine." She said as she walk away whispering "Eu sinto Muito.". 

Why do I feel unsafe around her?

Nightmare asked himself.

"You best keep an eye on her." Nightmare heard a familiar voice.  He turned and saw Nox in disguise.

"What are you doing here?" Nightmare asked. "Errands." Nox reply.

"Hey, Nox can I have a word with you?" Nightmare asked. Nox set the large sack he was carrying down. "What is it?"

"That's scythe Moon gave me.  Is it perhaps any chance curse?"

"What makes you say that?" Nox reply. "Last night I had a dream where I was murdered.  But it wasn't me at all." Nightmare answer. "Maybe the scythe didn't like you." Nox said. Nightmare could feel the jealous aura coming from Nox.

What's make that scythe so important to him?

He thought. "I think there's something that you're not telling me.  In fact ever since we first met I could sense you have some grudge against me and I don't know why." Nightmare said. Nox glared at him than he towered over him getting ready to punch him. Yet he didn't.  Instead he just sighed. "Moon's soul stuck in it. And I don't want anything bad happen to him." Nightmare had seen this behavior before.  In both real life and in his books mostly his romantic novels. "Are you telling me that you're..." Nightmare begin. "No. Not like that." Nox begins to plea. "In love with him?.." Nightmare finished.  He's no love expert, but  He can tell Nox is in love with Moon. Nox blushed a purple hue before covering his face. "Look me and Moon first met we had a rocky beginning.  I was task with killing death by W.D Gaster. I would have succeeded if that man didn't spot me. When we met again  It turns out that both of us aren't so different after all and.." Nox stops himself and put his arm around his chest. "He was the only person I could talk to about these feelings of hate on being born with a uncomfortable body." Even though Nightmare can't understand he felt bad for Nox. "So what do you think about that dream I had? Does it mean something?" Nightmare asked trying to change the subject.  "I don't know myself. And I read all of Moon's books and scrolls." Nox answered. Nightmare watch Nox pack up. "Where are you going?" Nightmare asked. "Home. Hecate freaks out being alone at midnight." Nox replied. Nightmare took a breath.  Then music became louder and more vibrant, with the lights and fire becoming brighter and more warm. He turn and saw the stranger dancing with the strong man. Something doesn't seem right. Usually the strong man would refuse to dance for anyone, but the little girl he was targeting.  And he could've swore he saw scales of a snake on the stranger. The stranger later took the man to a small alley.  Nightmare thought that the man is just showing her around town. So he didn't pay much attention. He decided to try out the bobbing for apples he saw a couple of people did.  He should known better than to trust everyone when they pushed his head into the water. Luckily the little ones are making smores next to its fire they made themselves so maybe he can rest there.  As he headed to the campfire the little boy with the abusive mother grabbed him. "Nightmare, I don't feel comfortable with that girl."

"What girl?" Nightmare asked.

"The girl dancing with my mom." The boy pointed out. Nightmare took a look and saw that the stranger with the boy's mother.

Wasn't she with the strong man?

He thought. He turned to boy. "I'll keep a close eye on them while you have fun with your friends. Alright?" The boy nodded. Nightmare walks towards the dancers, but made sure that both of them can't spot him. He watch as the stranger convinced the abusive mother to go to the alley. Once there the stranger carefully removed the other woman's clothes. Nightmare thought they were going to court with each other so he turned away embarrassed. Even if he wasn't there the two women would eventually be found, and be hanged for committing homosexuality witchcraft. He left to tell the boy he might be getting two moms if they can convince the court. To his surprise the boy didn't pay no mind to it. In fact the boy just ask if it's okay with God. He doesn't know how reply due to him not being religious.  So they change the topic. Eventually Nightmare forgot about the stranger. Later he got tried and decided he had enough partying for tonight. As he went back home he heard a scream next to him. He turn to where the scream was and saw the unimaginable.

Everyone that danced with the stanger died in pools of blood and a demon snake mantis fire thing licking some from her hands. Nightmare backed away slowly until a woman scream caught the creature's attention. She smile and dash past Nightmare and grabbed the woman and begins to feast on her. By making her paralyze with the vemon in her fangs. Then she gutted her with her teeth. Later riping her limb from limb until she was nothing more than a pool of blood. Worst of all everyone saw it. While Nightmare ran.

Is that a Solarite?

He thought, but someone grabbed him and push him towards her. The Solerite took notice and held him down. Nightmare closed his eyes and hope that the death will be quick, except it never came. Instead she froze in place and is beginning to cry blood. Then stopped. "Você conhece o Nim?" She said.

"W-What?" Nightmare asked. "I said. Do you know Nim? You know that apple tree dryad?" She said.

"Yes. She's my mother." He said. She glared, but not at him. "Essa vadia...I know she would do this. But never to her own son."  She muttered.  "Nightmare, did you summoned this..thing?" A man yelled. "No. I barely even kno-" He was cut off. "As if you weren't evil enough you destroyed a sacred ceremony. " Nightmare look down.

Are they that stupid?

He thought. "Wait, I cause the massacre.  Not him. And how is he a part of it?" The solerite asked. "Didn't he summoned you?" Someone else asked. "No. I came by going on a boat by myself. " She answered.  "Well he bleeds black blood." A woman said. "I have a close friend who bleeds black blood and he would never harm someone unless he has too or is provoked." She replied. The solarite stood up and allowed Nightmare to stand up. Then she put her hand on his shoulder.  Surprisingly it didn't burn him. "Are you a scapegoat?" She asked. Nightmare took a deep breath.  "Yes." She turns to village.  "Raise your hand if you still think he cause the massacre?" Not surprisingly almost all of village raise their hands. "Good thing my pets love barbecues." She whispered. "Now come to me if you think he is innocent." All the children and some of villagers came forward despite their loved ones pleas and threats. She came up to them and pat them all on their heads. Later did the same to Nightmare. "Who are you?" Someone said. The solarite smile. "I am the wrath of life." She said as she turns into a snake and begins slithering away. Many tried catch her, but she was too fast. And those that did hands were burnt to a crisp. Nightmare took the opportunity to run. He went home grabbed Moon's scythe and spent the night at the in-hill. Planning to talk to Moon about her and about that dream.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #373

“warm me up in a nova’s glow  /  and drop me down to the dream below”

Have you ever kissed someone that you thought you’d never kiss? Welp, never thought I'd kiss a girl for most of my life. When was the last time you ate take-out and what was it that you ate? Mom bought us breakfast at Bojangle's the morning after my sleep study. I got a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit. Do you enjoy when guys hit on/flirt with you or does it normally make you uncomfortable or annoyed? When was the last time more than one guy was flirting with you at a time? It makes me uncomfortable, especially if it's very obvious and pushy. Like some respectful flirting is fine and can be flattering if I'm single, but you better respect my boundaries and not act like a dog. I don't think two guys have both been openly interested in me since Juan and Jason in high school. Can you name five things you enjoy looking at pictures of? Animals, flowers, waterfalls, expressions of love between people, and boudoir. Would you rather have an eternal winter or an eternal summer? Both sound pretty sucky, but an eternal summer sounds worse. Do you know much about the Greek gods? Not anymore. I did in high school, as mythology was an elective I took. Are there a lot of stray cats and dogs near where you live? Not in this neighborhood. How would you cope with living in isolation away from society? How long do you think you could cope before you went mad? Oh god, I couldn't cope. I'd lose my shit so fast. Have you ever found any hidden treasure? No. Would you ever want to hibernate through the winter? No, I enjoy winter. Which holiday do you prefer, Halloween or Christmas? I like the Halloween vibe more, but I enjoy Christmas more as a holiday. Do you prefer hot or cold drinks overall? Cold. What’s the smallest thing you’ve ended a relationship over? I don't believe I've broken up with anyone over something small. Have you or a member of your family been diagnosed with COVID yet? My older sister got it. It was hell. What’s the dominant color in the room you’re in at the moment? An off-white. Do you know who your mom’s favorite singer is? James Hetfield of Metallica. Easy. What room in your house is the messiest? The spare room. Have you ever used a “puppy face” to get your way? Ha, yeeeaaah... If you could change any law that exists in your current country, what would it be and why? Here comes free healthcare. For obvious reasons. What were the last toppings you had on a pizza? Pepperoni. Would you rather spend an hour walking a dog or riding a horse? Riding a horse. Do you freak out when you need to visit the doctor or the dentist? Nah. Do you prefer The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit movies, if you like any of them? I haven't watched either. Which Harry Potter film was your favourite? What about your least favourite? I haven't watched those, either. What do you think about nose piercings? I like them. Nostril studs especially are really cute imo. How many floors does your house have? One. What’s your favorite flavor of Kool-Aid? I don't really like Kool-Aid anymore. Have you ever had anything removed from your body? Yeah, a cyst. Do you enjoy sappy love songs? Unabashedly. Do you wear a one-piece or a two-piece when you go swimming? One-piece. What would be your biggest pet peeve in a relationship? Not communicating your feelings straight-up. Be straightforward and honest with what you're going through with your partner, for the love of God. Have you ever had a teacher hit on you? Have you ever hit on a teacher? No to both. Do you tend to eat more on Halloween, Thanksgiving, or Christmas? Christmas, because of chocolate stocking stuffers and boxes from Dad, haha. Do you know what an "AMV" is? Yeah, I used to make them. Do you think you have a sad life? In some ways, yeah. What’s one award show you have to watch every year? None. Who do you like more: the Batman or the Joker? The Joker, particularly Heath Ledger's. Do you like Rammstein? Love 'em. What is your favorite small dog breed? Aesthetically, I think pugs, but I've said before and I'll say it a thousand more times: I don't support breeding them. What was the first comic book you ever had an obsession over? I've never been obsessed with a comic book. Do you like kids pop-up books? Those were my absolute favorite kind AS a kid. What is your mother's mother's maiden name? Ummm I'm pretty sure Collins. Have you ever pet a monkey? No. What’s your favorite Owl City song… besides "Fireflies?" I actually really like "Hot Air Balloon." What’s your fave Miley Cyrus song? I don't know many, but I do know "The Climb" is absolutely gorgeous. Fave Rascal Flatts song? Probably "My Wish." But I also really like "Why" and "What Hurts the Most." Fave Justin Bieber song? None. Miley Cyrus, Demi Lavato, or Selena Gomez? Jesus, you really like bands that I don't, haha. I don't know any Demi or Selena songs, so idk. Fave Eminem song? Oh man, I do like a lot of Eminem. I know it's so cliche, but I genuinely adore "Love The Way You Lie." It gives me goosebumps. Do you think you could survive a month of solitary confinement? NO. Absolutely not. I would lose my motherfucking mind. What is something that you find utterly boring? Sports, save for dance, are incredibly blah to me. What noise/sound can put you to sleep? Gentle, steady rain tapping on the window. When you are upset, do you tend to shut others out? YYYYYYYYYYYEP. When was the last time you felt abandoned by someone? bleh Does the sight of blood gross you out? No. Do you like red roses, or do you prefer another color? I love red ones, but I really, really like the ones with a pink-peach gradient. Have you ever gone through a red light? I think I MIGHT have accidentally because I was zoned out, but I don't THINK so. Do you fail to stop for stop signs, sometimes? I can't recall if I ever have. What is one of your major turn-offs? Misogyny. The moment you act like you exceed my worth just because you have a dick, byyyyyeeee~ During which year of your life were you the most unhappy? 2016 was hell on Earth for me. Have you ever seen a blue jay in person? I have. Do you like leaves better in the summer/spring, or in the fall? I'd like to meet someone that actually chooses anything besides fall, lol. Do you like the appearance of green eyes? YES! Do you typically like green-colored candies? Yessss. It's not rare for them to be my favorite flavor of whatever the thing is. Who is the most energetic and happy person you know of? My nephew, omg. Have you ever encountered a black widow? I actually have seen at least one to my memory. They're native here. Has an animal ever peed on you? Yes. Do you prefer green or purple/red grapes? I enjoy both, but I prefer green IF they're actually firm. What color is your birthstone? Purple. Why did you leave your house last? To go to the TMS office. I have to go there every day (but the weekends) for two months for treatment now. Is anything on your body sore? Well, inevitably my upper right arm, where my tattoo is. It looks so fucking beautiful redone though, it's all worth it. :') Have you ever eaten a cookie cake before? If so, was it good? Hell yeah man, cookie cakes are great. Do you lose interest in someone easily? I'm quite the opposite. Who was the last person you flirted with? Sara. Do you still talk to the person you fell the hardest for? No. Who’s the last person that slept over your house? My sister and her husband. Have you ever regretted kissing someone? Yes. Are you currently sad about anything? I mean, I always am about something. How would you feel if your last ex fell in love with someone else? I would be super happy for her. Who was the last person who left your life and hurt you? Colleen. Do you know anyone who died of breast cancer? I might know of somebody, but all I know personally are survivors. Do you miss any of your old friends? Well of course. Have you ever been used before? I don't know. Ever taken a picture kissing someone? Yes. What’s the last thing you and your sibling laughed about? I Don't know. I haven't seen either in some time. What’s the last thing you took a picture of? A meme to send Sara, haha. Do you listen to classical music? No. Do you tell your parents who you like? Why or why not? I mean, I don't just randomly bring it up because just being like "hey I like this person _____ now" seems weird. Now if I was asked or mentioning it is somehow relevant, then I will. Who’s the most annoying person in your neighborhood? The damn dog next door who never shuts up. Name one of your psycho exes? None. I was the "psycho ex," and it's embarrassing as shit. Do you make your own clothes and/or add designs to them on your own? No. Do you ever feel guilty eating meat? It's not something I always actively think about, but subconsciously, I absolutely always do. Especially knowing my family doesn't buy from "ethical" markets, but instead big ones. "Ethical" in quotations because there is no moral way to slaughter an animal for food, but at least there are smaller farmers who can give their livestock a better, cleaner, happier life. What are you listening to at the moment? I'm semi-watching Gab play Bioshock. I'd never seen the game before, so just kinda vicariously checking it out. Seems all right. Does anything hurt right now? My tattoo is definitely in the sore phase. It'll start scabbing soon. I literally can't stop looking at it, I love it so much. How many years have you lived at the house you’re living in right now? Around 1 1/2. Have you ever lived in a different country that the one you’re living in? No. Which of your parents will you see next? I live with my mom and rarely see my dad, so. Do you like Chinese food? Only pork fried rice and egg rolls, really. What sort of music were you brought up on? When all of us kids were very little, Mom would usually play her rock channels on the radio, sometimes a (clean) CD. She also would ensure to play kids' cassettes sometimes, too, like Raffy or whoever it was. Once Ashley reached a certain age, she would always ask for a pop channel to be put on, so most of my childhood was that and some country music, too.

[knittedkneil]

Guys, Gals, and Queer Pals. 

I proudly present to you, Project Noah. A THREE YEAR PROJECT examining how to dye a ball of yarn in multiple different colors. I wanna talk about two seperate ways to dye a yarn ball with several different colors and the pros and cons of each. I also want to talk to you about growth. 

Three years ago, in 2016, I had this giant ambition to dye the rainbow for my “Matthew Shepard” scarf. I was so inspired by the message of that pattern, and how closely I feel tied to the LGBT+ community that I simply had to pull out all the stops. I had never dyed before, I had never approached a fisherman construction, nor have I ever tried editing a pattern to fit my tastes. When I finished it, I felt like I could DO ANYTHING. It had all worked out great- all of it except my approach to dyeing yarn. 

It has taken me several years, not only to get to a place where dyeing yarn was financially feasible, but also to learn techniques and learn from my mistakes. I was so DETERMINED to get a rainbow that flowed from one color into the next almost seamlessly. I want to share with you what I’ve learned- and how it feels to see growth in such a real way, 

Three years ago, I thought, that if you put the colors of the rainbow ROY G. BIV in some mason yarns, and divide your yarn equally amount those colors you’d get BAM a rainbow. I used food coloring at the time and nearly obliterated my family’s stock of red food coloring for red velvet cake. I had that vision in my head and I KNEW I could do it– my first result was, severely disappointing. I thought that the colors would magically meld, because I left yarn to dangle in between the yarns- thinking capillary action would bring each color into the next and create that gradient I was looking for. I was wrong. Hopefully. Excited! But wrong. 

Let me tell you my great surprise when I learned that I had accidentally created self striping yarn WHILE I was trying to knit my Matthew Shepard scarf. It was terrifying, hoping maybe it would work as I got farther and farther away from the point I could safely frog it without losing some really hard lace motifs. I was feeling like a failure when I found that last little bit of yarn. It was hanging across ALL of the pots and picked up that gradient EXACTLY I had envisioned it. THERE WAS HOPE. 

So, I tried again. This time I did some research! I found out about sock blanks! SO. Usually it was knit up using a knitting machine (the same kind of toy one that always dropped stitches and started my knitting journey, needless to say at the time it was out of the question) I didn’t have a good one at the time. SO I decided to take out some size 17 circular needles and knit the things MYSELF. YA’LL IT TOOK ME THREE WEEKS. So after finishing, I promptly got some squirt bottles I used for tie dyeing shirts and proceeded to DYE MY SEAMLESS COLORED DREAM. I thought- if it’s in a skein, and I shove a bunch of different colors in each other. MAGIC would happen. AND ID FINALLY BE ABLE TO GET MY RAINBOW. It didn’t quite work out. IT WORKED. Most definitely, but it wasn’t seamless- beautiful, and well enough for my scarf but when I look of that picture of it drying in my shower, I cringe just a little bit. I remember being so EXCITED for that yarn, and getting shot down when I wanted to show it off. So discouraged that it took me another three years to even think of attempting it again. 

Fast forward to today. I have math on my side now. I had finally been able to work out dye concentrations, and the depth of shade I was looking for- and after ensuing mistakes, trials, and experiments. I ended up with 16 mason jars and a whole ton of colors. Once everything was out of the dye pot. I was SO PROUD of the shades that came out. I got teals, I got coral, I got chartreuse! AND IT STILL FEEL LIKE I could go further! 

Let me share with you some of my notes on this. I knew, I would start with my primary colors. Red, Yellow, Blue. I needed a stand in for “Ultra Violet” And I know that the pride flat ops for pink, so pink it was. From there, I had to figure out how I could fully saturate a skein of yarn, but ALSO have the dye solutions light enough so that one color doesn’t fully over take the other. 

Yellow was a .0375% stock solution as they are quite strong Pink was the same concentration. Blue was a .05% stock solution. Red was the same as blue. 

From there I figured out how deep I wanted to get the lighter colors first. Yellow, and Pink. Once I got myself a fade set I was happy with, I went ahead and started adding reds or blues, depending on their position with an inverse relationship. As one color gets strong, the other color gets weaker. 

What I love most about this technique is that you can be extremely accurate and replicate your color way quite easily. If you find a color you absolutely love, you have notes on it to do it again for either a full skein or more mini skeins. It can be expanded- as long as the ratios are the same. 

My frustration with this technique is this. IT DOESN’T FLOW. You’ll gave to get REALLY granular- and maybe do a dozen stages of a gradient to replicate that seamless gradient. I would be really happy to do this for maybe two colors and their transitions- but for a whole rainbow. This will take me more time. 

NEXT. WAS THE SOCK BLANK. 

I used my same stock solutions- one because I made a ton, but two I wanted to try and keep the same relationships between colors if I could. If done right, dyeing a sock blank is endlessly satisfying. For me, it’s very much a messy organic process where your hands get blue, and your whole surroundings become a canvas for colorful chaos. It was a blast. Having my hands on the skeins, squeeze one color into another and pouring the colors on a blank skein made me feel like an alchemist. I didn’t put a lot of thoughts into how big my swatches of color were going to be- and I probably should have been more precise. Nevertheless, I find myself preferring to dye this way if I were just dyeing for me. You may not get exactly what you want- but the joy is i the process. And you can more easily get that kind of “FLOW” into the next color because you’re literally pouring one over another. 

There are a lot of difficulties with this method. One, you have to watch your work surface. Getting bits of stray colors on the skein is really easy. sometimes it’s even inevitable. Your sock blank may not be completely perfect. It usually isn’t easily replicated so knitting double can be really helpful– sock blanks are notorious for their little pockets of resist created by the interlocking knit stitches so if your dye strikes too fast, you’ll get variegated yarn instead of solid or tonal. Because of that, I like to dye without heat and then steam set. That brings more complications though. Watch how saturated you get your yarn with liquid. I say this because, I thought once I had dyed the perfect blue gradient. Before it was time for me to heat set the yarn. It flowed so wonderfully into the next. I couldn’t stop looking at it. I covered it in plastic wrap giant mistake because plastic doesn’t breathe. SO. If you have too much liquid in your skein of yarn. Guess what. its going to pool on the bottom side of the yarn while it steams. Your hard work could get erased in the last stage- and it can be disheartening. Take my advice get a big roll of butcher paper. You can find it cheap at wholesale culinary stores or the internet and it works like a dream.

DID I GET EXACTLY WHAT I WANT?

er. Yes, and no. 

  I am so proud of this work, and I’m so excited to see how I’m going get these skeins knitted up. I can’t help but wonder. How much better can I do this three years from now? 

PLEASE KEEP CRAFTING. KEEP CREATING. EVERY HICCUP IS A LESSON YOU CAN USE TO GET STRONGER. YOU ARE ALWAYS GROWING.

[quietmonologues]

Hey! Sorry for asking, but for your colour palette gifsets, you put the colours in as gradient layers, correct? And what do you set them as? Color, hue, normal? Usually, when it's, for example, pastel colors, if I put it as "color" and even sometimes as "hue", it'll become the primary colour. Light pink will show as red. How do you make them show as the colour you selected? Thank you!

Hey anon! Don’t apologize, I’m more than willing to help out and give tutorials for how I make my gifs! So to answer your question, I did none of that! I didn’t change the blending modes, and if I did use a gradient layer, I used it only when I wanted to cover something up or make the gif have more of a smoother finish. I don’t know if you want a full blown tutorial but I’ll do one for you anyways because there’s a lot of steps, if that’s okay. And since you mentioned light pink, I’ll use this gif of The 100′s very own Bellamy Blake from this gifset as an example for this tutorial. 

I tried to explain myself as best as I could and I used a lot of pictures so this is pretty long.

Continued under the cut

So as I said above, I didn’t change the blending modes of any of my layers and I didn’t use gradient layers initially! What I really did was use a lot of adjustment layers to change the background.

The good thing about this scene is that there are a lot of red and orange tones. Pink is basically a lighter hue of red so it was pretty easy to change the background. That’s a good tip to keep in mind in general when you want to make colour palette gifs. (But of course, there are exceptions to that ) :)

STEP 1: So once I did my initial colouring (Levels, Brightness, etc.), I added a transparent layer with a swatch of my chosen colour, and used that as a reference for colouring. I always kept it visible as I was changing the background.

STEP 2: For the first layer, I used Selective Colour and I went to the Neutrals. These were my settings:

Which yielded this result:

STEP 3: The next adjustment layer was Colour Balance and focusing on the Midtones, I added more purple to make it have a more purplish hue to match the purplish hue of the swatch:

STEP 4: I used Selective Colour again to make the pink a bit more pale by adjusting the Reds:

STEP 5: Afterwards, I used my least favourite adjustment layer, Curves. The purpose of curves was to make the background brighter so that it could match the brightness of the swatched pink:

You can use other brightening adjustment layers, but I find Curves to be more “powerful” which is good for if you want more of a drastic change in brightness, which is what I wanted. 

STEP 6: The brightness was perfect but the colour of the background was paler than the swatch so I added a Vibrance layer to bring out a bit more colour to the pink:

It looks the same as the last picture but I promise, there’s a slight difference!:

STEP 7: Lastly, to really really match the swatch, I added another Colour Balance layer and focusing on the Midtones again, these were my settings and results:

STEP 8: I felt that the background matched the swatch perfectly (more or less) so in order to not make this colouring affect Bellamy, I just grouped all the above layers together, added a layer mask to the group, and with a soft brush set to black, I coloured over Bellamy and got this:

So this is pretty good. BUT, Bellamy looked a bit out of place since his colouring here was due to the original red/orange background. Therefore, I wanted to match Bellamy to the new background without making him “pinkwashed” like the above pictures and keep the golden undertones of his skin tone. 

STEP 9: So, I clicked on that group with all the adjustment layers (step 8) and pressed “Ctrl+J” (Command+J if you have a Mac) to duplicate that group. I deleted the layer mask of this duplicate group:

This is what my gif looked like with both the grouped layers and its duplicate visible:

STEP 10: I wanted this colouring to affect Bellamy only this time so I added a layer mask to this duplicate group, and with a soft brush set to black, I coloured over the background. I set the opacity of this duplicate group to 25% and this was the result:

Bellamy isn’t as red/orange as before and he blends into the background a bit better. The melanin of his skintone is still there and isn’t super washed out either so that’s good.

STEP 11 (Optional): So I’m pretty much done and you can stop here. But I went the extra step and added some gradient layers so that I could get rid of Clarke’s head in the right corner there as well as mute those dark lines from the background a little bit. I used the Gradient Tool and a Gradient Fill Layer to get my final result:

Use the swatch colour to create the gradients (I didn’t for some reason) and there you go! No blend mode changes or anything like that, just a ton of adjustment layers!

I hope this was the answer you were looking for anon and I hope this wasn’t too confusing. If it was confusing or if you want me to explain something else, shoot me another message and I’ll be glad to help you out even more :)

Thank you for the ask!

[thewayiremember]

EPISODE 1

July 5, 7:20 PM – 4 DAYS AFTER THE INCIDENT

Nathaniel Blake is lying across from me. He’s 16 years old, 5.9, 154 lbs, has no allergies, and no chronic illnesses. At least that’s what his medical chart says. How I got access to that is not important. I don’t actually know the guy, but we’ve been practically inseparable for the last couple of days. Plus, even though he hasn’t regained his consciousness yet, I’m sure he complains as much as I do about being here. He just cannot express his frustration. I have it easy. I can roll my eyes and sigh as loud as I want to. But there’s no one to see it, so, what’s the point?

Nathaniel Blake was supposed to travel across the Pacific in a couple of days for his dream vacation in Australia. He has been preparing for that trip since last summer and it was kind of a big deal because that would be his first totally independent adventure. I know that because his grandparents lament about it every time they visit. He can probably hear you. It won’t make him feel better if you keep reminding him how sad it is he won’t be able to go. His left arm is encased with a cast. Luckily, the doctors said it should heal very nicely, and that he shouldn’t have any movement difficulties afterward.

I always pretend to be asleep when he has visitors, so I have a little trouble forming opinions about his friends. He has too many. They seem like good fellas, though. The guests usually come in the mornings, which works for me cause it’s easier to play dead when you’re still tired. I know they would feel a lot less comfortable talking to him if they knew I’m awake. Plus, I wouldn’t feel comfortable looking at their sad faces, either.

I talk to Nathaniel a lot. I feel a little guilty because I can’t know for sure he even wants me to talk to him, but the silence of this place really gets to me. So I made him my friend in spite of him being unconscious. He knows me really well. He can’t tell me to shut up, so, I never do. I try not to whine too much and keep it positive to cheer him up after all that sobbing he’s forced to listen to, but I can’t always help myself. My buttcheeks hurt from not really changing this half-seated position and the wi-fi dies on me every five seconds. I have plenty to complain about.

But he’s alive. And I’m alive. So, there’s that.

It’s nice to have a friend who listens so well, but I do hope he wakes up eventually. Keeping my fingers crossed.

There’s a TV hanging from the ceiling but I don’t know how desperate I’d have to get to turn it on. The ads play every ten minutes and they’re so loud it makes me even more hyper and annoying. We don’t want that. At least I have plenty of time to meditate. No… I don’t meditate, I just watch Netflix. Though I never realized staring at the screen all day could be so exhausting. Headaches are no fun. So I have to take brakes, and then I’m left with me, myself, and this beautiful ward.

And that is not sarcasm. It’s actually really pretty. Minimalistic, by budget, or design, who cares? We can see only whites, blues, and some pink-ish whites. And the light wooden window frames on the tilted wall complement those colors very nicely. There’s not a lot of space in this room, but in my opinion, it makes it cozier. We have our own bathroom that seems clean and doesn’t give you chills when you walk in. Not that we use it much, especially not Nathaniel. And for me getting out of bed is still very challenging so I try not to drink too much so I won’t have to go to the toilet too often. I have the smallest bladder on Earth.

The sun is setting and the whole mood starts shifting. I have a wide view of the lake when I look outside the window. The water reflects all the colors of the sky. A gradient of perfectly aligned hues is breaking through the clouds. It’s insane how sexy the sky can be. Lots of blues, yellows, and purples. Do you know what else has lots of blues, yellows, and purples? My chest. Not as sexy, though.

It’s been five days since I was brought to the hospital. I can’t tell if it’s a long time or not, but I feel like the recovery isn’t gonna be as difficult as I thought it would be at the beginning. When I first woke up in this bed I could barely breathe. It felt like my ribs were all shattered into pieces and my face was so swollen I couldn’t open my left eye. The bruises aren’t really fading away just yet, but I’d say half of the pain is gone. At least I can breathe, see and eat normally.

I used to be obsessed with watching medical programs. Plastic surgeries, body transformations, treating horrifying skin conditions, but they tend to be very repetitive and predictable, so I especially liked the ones when something went wrong along the way. Like that one time, the doctors were stitching up the patient’s toes and they couldn’t bring back the blood flow. And of course, it’s probably a little scripted for the sake of the show, but they did look genuinely terrified that the toes would turn black and fall out. That was exciting. Luckily, I didn’t need any surgeries. I’m pretty much just bruised up, I think. No internal bleeding, no broken bones, but they wanted to do some more tests on me and asked me to stay for a couple more days.

My parents come to visit once a day, but somehow they manage to make this place even gloomier than when I’m alone. I’m surprised they even care. Or maybe they just feel obligated to come. Like, we barely even talk. Why are you here? I mean, I DO get it. Not everybody has to like each other, not even people blood-related. And it’s fine. We’re just very different people. And if it makes them feel better when they come to check on me, that’s cool. I feel like I am understanding, but still, I’m not gonna lie, this whole situation is very frustrating.

I am aware that the problem is more on my side, cause most of the things they say wouldn’t bother me if they were said by somebody else. Today (like every day since I’ve been here) they asked me how I was feeling. Now, if any of my friends or nurses asked about it, I’d take it as an act of caring. But when the same question is asked by my parents, in my mind I go berserk. And how do you think I’m feeling? Have you looked at my face? Even though in reality I don’t feel that bad. I don’t know where that anger comes from. Maybe because they never cared before. Why now? But I just reply, as politely as I can, that I feel OK.

10:30 PM

I wear earplugs when it’s bedtime because once it gets dark and the rest of the hospital’s asleep, the heart rate monitor that Nathaniel’s still attached to, I swear, levels up in volume. I need something to occupy my mind. I just read 100 random facts on some website and did you know that by taking just one step you use over 200 muscles in your body? That means that today I used the same 200 muscles at least 20 times in three series while I had to use the bathroom. That’s a legit workout if you ask me.

There’s a group of friends skinny-dipping in the lake. I wonder how much time it will take for them to get in trouble. They are far away from any buildings, I can barely see them myself, and there’s a pretty dense forest spreading behind the lake, but that’s no less than half a mile away. Other than that, the space is quite open.

10:45 PM

I can hear dr. Gramm talking on the phone behind the door. I swear she doesn’t sleep. Or even go home, like, ever. She’s the one who takes care of me and Nathaniel. She and the whole staff… they really seem to care. It’s nice to see them coming in here so often to make sure that we’re doing OK. And here’s the thing, Nathaniel can’t complain, and every time they check on us, they make sure to adjust his body so that he’s comfortable. Sweet.

Since I can’t actually remember what happened to me and why I’m here, after long conversations and many check-ups on me to make sure there’s no any brain damage, dr. Gramm told me that thinking out loud makes your brain work more… efficiently. She must have read those 100 random facts on the internet as well. I’m pretty sure it was a fact nr. 48.

Well, I don’t know about thinking out loud. She probably wouldn’t be happy to hear that I traveled back in time. I think I’d be put in a different kind of hospital. So, I hope keeping a journal will do just fine.

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Dark Side: Part 3

Master: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Steve X Reader

Summary: You expected Captain America to be a lot of things… You didn’t expect him to be anything like you. As it turns out, America’s Golden Boy may be more than a little tarnished.

Warnings: Violence, blood, feels, fluff, smut, everything

A/N: This bad boy is for @littledarlinhavefaithinme ‘s Marvelous Writing Challenge!

LOLOLOLOL WHAT HAVE I DONE. 

Well. This is longer than I expected but seeing as the challenge is over this week I thought I’d give it to y’all in one final beefy chapter filled with blood and emotions and smut and the bevy of human messiness that makes us all tick. The prompt is bolded. I need a drink. Aaaaand there is probs gonna be an epilogue because I have more ideas for these two. 

Hope y’all like my angsty Cap! 

Tags are open!

It takes two hours to clean up the mess.

He tells the police he had been here with a friend, who he told to leave as soon as the shot was heard, he saw the victim attacking a woman, she fired in self-defense, before he could question her she’d gotten lost in the crowd. As he conveyed his not entirely untrue story Natasha stared at him, eyebrows raised as if she didn’t believe him but she said nothing.

It didn’t matter. No one seemed too concerned with any of it. Almost to the point that it unnerved him. Both the DCPD and S.H.I.E.L.D. chalked it up to some random incident, bagged the body, took some statements and that was it.

“They’re not going to do anything more about this?” He asked Natasha as everyone dispersed.

She shrugged, “People die every day in this city. They’ll look into it but he’s likely just a thug who picked the wrong mark. Sucks to be him but if no one’s gonna miss him they’re not gonna waste the manpower on it.” He doesn’t like it. “Can’t save everyone all the time, Steve.”

That wasn’t what left a bad taste in his mouth but he couldn’t tell her that. With a cloud hovering over him he heads home, trying his best to push down the feeling in his gut that he’s missing something.

As he slips his key in the lock he hears water coming from the bathroom. His blood runs cold.

Quietly he opens the door. Slipping inside, he stands, hardly breathing as he assesses the situation. His shield isn’t where he usually leaves it, close to the door. However, he does see blood, drops trailing on the wood floor toward the bathroom. Even though he assumes it's you he cautiously makes his way through his apartment.

The door to the bathroom is just barely ajar. He shoulders it open and hears the click of a gun. You’re standing in the shower, shield raised, gun poised.

“Oh thank fuck,” you breathe out, shield dropping to your side revealing your muscular form clad in nothing but a pair of high waist lace underwear and a matching bra. He swallows hard, trying to pretend he doesn’t feel his cheeks heating.

“That thing is heavier than I thought it’d be.” You lean his shield against the wall beside the shower, setting your pistol beside it.

“They really just let you bring that home? I thought it’d be on lock up or something. Vibranium is worth a shit load.” He says nothing as he steps in, nothing the first aid kit, the blood in the bathtub, and discarded surgical thread in a pile.

“I’ll clean this up,” he’s surprised at the awkward tone in your voice. “I… uh… it’s hard to stitch up the back of your thigh yourself, in case you ever need to know.” Blood is still snaking down your leg, he can tell from the pool forming by your foot.

“I’d assume as much.” He has a million questions but for now, you need help. “Here,” he begins undoing the buttons on his shirt.

“You don’t have to-”

“I can’t just leave you bleeding in my shower. And I think I’m owed some answers. So, you’re gonna let me stitch you up and you’re going to answer my questions.”

“Authoritative. I’m into it.” He slides his gaze to you, as he tosses the shirt to his bed. That goddamn smirk on your lips. He’s got half a mind to turn you around in the shower and… No. You need help and he needs answers. That’s what this situation is. Nothing else.

He washes his hands and grabs a few rags, getting them wet. “Turn around, let me see.” Ignoring the blood he kneels behind you, setting the kit down beside him, to inspect the wound. It needs stitches but it’s not too bad.

“Am I gonna make it doc?” You look over your shoulder and down at him, voice dripping with mock concern.

“I think we can save the leg, just barely though.”

“Thank god. Though I could always replace it with a machine gun.”

“That may be the most ridiculous image I can imagine,” he laughs as he starts to clean the area around the wound.

You hiss just a bit before explaining, “It’s in a movie actually.”

“Well,” he pulls gauze from the kit to press to the wound, you brace yourself against the wall, “that sounds like a cinematic masterpiece.”

You laugh a little, “It’s so bad it’s almost good actually. Kind of a horror action combo.”

“Maybe I’ll watch it.” Gently he removes the blood-soaked pad before pressing another, the flow slows.

“I don’t know if it’ll be your taste.”

“Aren’t you the one always telling me to try new things?”

“Ok,” you laugh, “point.”

He threads a fresh needle, “Ready?”

“Can’t wait.” Your tone is flat, forehead pressed against the shower.

He’s impressed that you hardly flinch while he sutchures the wound. As he does so he can’t help but think about how quickly something like this would heal on him. He’d hardly bother to stitch it. He almost… envies you.

Once you’re stitched he tapes gauze over the wound and cleans the dried blood from the back of your leg. “You’re set, though I’d still maybe get it checked out.”

“Thanks, doctor Steve,” you turn and he’s eye level with those maddening lace underwear again.

Forcing his eyes away he stands, stepping out of the shower, heading to the sink, “Yeah, well I didn’t do it for free, Zelda. You owe me-”

“Y/N,” you say softly. He looks back at you as he soaps his hands. “My name… is Y/N.”

His face stretches into a smile. It’s pretty, suits you. Drying his hands he turns to you, “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

It’s not the smirk he’s grown to expect, the curling of your lips is genuine, soft, lighting your eyes. You nod, “I obviously owe you a new suit too,” you gesture to the bloodstained slacks. “Think I could add some other clothes to the tab? Unfortunately, my dress has seen better days.”

“Sure.” He heads into his room pulling sweats and a tee from a drawer. You’re rinsing the shower with the handheld head when he walks back in. He sets the clothes on the counter. “Don’t worry about the suit. Not like I bought it.”

“Still, thanks.”

“If I leave you in here are you gonna disappear again?”

“No promises,” the smirk back on your lips. He leans in the door, arms crossed. “I’m not going anywhere. I owe you, remember?”

He nods and leaves you. Grabbing fresh clothes himself he goes to the guest room to change too. When he opens the door, there you are. Before he can say anything your eyes fix on something behind him.

“Is that…?” You gesture to the almost finished canvas of St. Louis.

“Yeah…” He hasn’t felt this awkward in more than 70 years. “It… I…”

“You did this?!” You look awestruck.

He shrugs, “Yeah. I went to art school back in my day. It was kinda the only thing I was good at… well besides getting the shit kicked outta me.”

Your gaze has shifted from him back to the painting. “Steve… honestly… this is stunning.”

“Eh. I’m still not happy with the sky, it’s not the right kind of purple. The gradient is off too and my shadows need work.”

“Shut up. It’s beautiful. What the hell are you doing being a soldier?!”

“Could ask you the same thing.”

You scoff, “Nah,” something dark flits over your features when you turn back. “There’s no spectacular hidden talent here.”

“I doubt that.” He gives you a warm smile, “You’re one hell of a dancer.”

Your head tilts back in a laugh, “That’s me bein’ a ho. Nothing particularly special there.” You pat his chest as you walk from the room. “Mind if I nab some of that whiskey I saw in there?”

“Not at all.” He follows you out, “Have a seat and I’ll pour you a glass.” His eyes follow you to the living room, unable to ignore the curve of your ass as you walk.

He pours you a hearty bit of whiskey, certain your leg has to be hurting and he doesn’t have any other pain killer. For posterity, he pours some for himself too. It does nothing for him but the smoky taste is comforting.

“Here,” he hands you the tumbler.

“Thanks,” you wrap your fingers around the glass. Suddenly you look tired, smaller somehow.

He pulls the armchair close to the couch, not wanting to crowd you. For a few minutes, silence hangs. As adamant as he was earlier about getting answers, looking at you now he just wants you to rest.

“So…” you break the silence.

He sighs, “Let’s start with why you asked me out tonight.”

One perfect brow raises, “Because I wanted to.”

“And someone trying to kill you had absolutely nothing to do with it?”

“Not… exactly.” He doesn’t honor that with an answer, just stares at you. Nervously your nails tap the glass of the tumbler. “A few weeks ago I got tapped for a gig. Blind hire. Usually, I don’t even entertain jobs like that unless the pay is very good. This was, but when they told me who…”

Ah… he sees now. “How much is Captain America’s head going for these days?”

“Not funny.”

“I’m not laughin,’ just curious.”

“Millions.” Not bad. At least he knew he was worth something to someone, even if it was dead. “Thing is,” your voice pulls him back, “I have a, uh, reputation of sorts…”

“I don’t doubt that,” he smiles up at you through his lashes and your features soften.

“Fuck you.” Playfully you toss a couch pillow at him. “See, if you hire me you had better be damn sure your hands are cleaner than the person you’re sending me after.”

“If they’re not?”

That smirk plays on your lips. “Well, most times I’ll flip the gig. Tell whoever you hired me to go after what you’re doing, offer my services, usually make more than I was gonna before. And if not it’s at least more satisfying.”

“Judge, jury, and executioner.” He can’t pretend he approves.

You shrug, “I don’t trick myself into thinking it’s justice. It’s a job. That’s all. I just sleep better knowing I didn’t go after someone innocent.” His brows rise. “Yeah. That’s kind of my niche. I’m who the underground sends after their own.”

“Seems like a fine line to walk.”

“I’m very, very good at what I do. So, I’m tolerated.”

“Guessing I’m not dirty enough to justify being your mark.”

“Well… I’m sure in some ways… but not enough for me to put a bullet in you.”

“So you turned ‘em down.”

“No.” He can’t help but look surprised, you laugh. “Told them I needed 48 hours. I knew they’d go underground once I said no, so I needed time. There wasn’t any trail I could find to figure out who was putting the hit out but I did find a tie to my Popov job.”

You slam back the rest of your whiskey, “It was also a blind hire, great pay, but I didn’t look too far into it because he was a fuckin’ monster. Hell, I would have don’t it for a smoke and a beer. But I think they wanted to see if I I could get to someone even with you there…”

“And you did.”

“Yup.” You roll the glass in your hands, “Realized I wasn’t getting anything else on my own so contacted them in 30 hours, they thought I was going to say yes so they were pretty willing to share what they wanted.”

“They wanted more than me dead?”

“No, more like how… They didn’t care about anything else other than it looking like you went out in the line of duty a-”

“Hero’s death.” Bitterness fills his mouth.

“Something like that. And it was to be local, close to DC.”

“We don’t do many jobs close to home…”

“Figured as much.”

He nods, “So they worked out you were going to tell me and came after you?”

You shrug, “That or they planned on taking me out once I turned them down, just finally had a good window.”

He doesn’t like this. Not because someone was gunning for him, that honestly didn’t phase him. He doesn’t like that you were in the crosshairs over it. You may have a questionable day job but… you weren’t a bad person.

“So,” you slowly stand and walk to the table where your clutch and shoes wait, “I was thinking you could cash in on some of those clearly unused vacation hours.” Picking up your things you turn to him smiling. “Maybe see St. Louis for real or Notre Dame, Greece is great this time of year, or-”

“I’m not running.” He’s sort of touched and a part of him would love to go to any of those places with you but… Steve Rogers didn’t stand down from a fight.

“Steve… if someone tried to hire me they aren’t fucking around. They will find someone and-”

He stands, “I’ll be fine.” His hand rests on your shoulder, you lean into it a bit, taking weight off your leg.

Looking up at him your face is hard, “You won’t be.”

“And if I’m not America can have her martyr back, plus someone gets a great payday. Why does it matter to you?”

“Why doesn’t it matter to you?”

He holds your gaze, meaning every word, “Who’s gonna miss Steve Rogers?”

“Me.” He honestly wasn’t expecting that. A sad smile lifts your full lips, “I think I’d miss Steve Rogers… a lot.”

Something in him snaps at that. He’d felt so numb for so long and now he’s suddenly burning. Cupping your face he leans down pressing his lips to yours.

Your things clatter to the floor as you return the kiss, arms curling around his neck. He wraps you in his arms, holding you close and lifts you just a touch as your tongue finds its way between his teeth. The taste of whiskey and desire fill his mouth.

Steve can’t remember wanting something, someone, in so long…

You break the kiss, eyes burning into his own. “Please don’t do something stupid… please.”

“Promise I won’t if you stay.” Hope flickers in his chest for just a moment.

“I can’t…” It flickers out. “I’m sorry.” You release him and he makes sure you’re steady on your feet before he bends to retrieve your things. When he looks back he swears that’s disappointment on your face…

“Even just for tonight? Your leg…”

“Too risky,” your index finger traces his jaw, bottom lip catching in your teeth.

“Can I at least get you home?”

“I can manage, Cap.” You sigh heavily, “I should go…”

His eyes glue to the wood grain of the floor. “Ok.”

“I’ll see you around…” He looks up, then, the soft smile on your features telling him this is a request.

“Maybe.” You nod, darkness flickering behind your eyes. He won’t make promises he can’t keep. Holding your things he turns to walk you out, now just wanting this to be over.

At the door, you both stand awkwardly. “Here,” he hands you your things.

“Thanks.” you take them. “For everything.”

“Don’t mention it. Thanks for the warning.”

You nod. “Steve…” Your hand rests over his heart before your pleading eyes catch his, “Please be safe.”

He wraps your hand in his lifting it to his lips, “You too.”

You nod when he releases your hand, no doubt noting his avoidance. “Well, until next time.”

He opens the door, “Next time.” And then you’re gone.

-

The next few months crawl by. Anytime you’re not working is always miserably boring but you needed to lay low unless you wanted to end up in a shallow grave somewhere.

Your new found free time had left room for you to keep digging into Steve’s hit. What you were finding was… well, nothing short of a national crisis so wild and far-reaching that if you hadn’t been doing the research yourself you’d think it was bullshit. Honestly, discovering that the government was run by lizard people would have been more believable.

More than once you try to convince yourself to meet up with Steve, share all this. But… he wasn’t in a good place, that had been clear. You were pretty sure he wasn’t much better since you left him if your mostly unanswered texts were any indication. If you were to tell him you had evidence that Hydra, the organization he’d given his life to see destroyed, was still functioning… And that it was very possible that S.H.I.E.L.D. was involved… What would he do?

One morning you’re on your third cup of coffee, wondering how you’ll fill your day when your phone rings. The little hand drawn picture of a dick on a napkin that pops up tells you who it is.

“The fuck you want, Wade?” You hear Vanessa laugh in the background and can’t help but smile. “Am I on speaker?!”

“Of course. I only conduct sensitive business in the loudest way possible you know that. Oh and also, rude.”

You laugh, “What’s going on.”

Crunching echos on the other end before he answers. “You asked me to tell you if I heard any chatter about someone getting tapped for that Captain America gig you turned down?”

“Yeah?”

“Well. I heard something.” He says nothing else.

“Wilson. I know you love foreplay but now is not the time.”

“Ugh, you’re so boring.”

“She prefers me anyway,” Vanessa quips.

“She’s not wrong.”

He laughs, “Why am I friends with you again? You’re rude to me, prefer my girlfriend, you never come slap me around anymore, I mean honestly, Y/N.”

“Wade, I swear I’ll do more than slap you around next time if you just stop dicking around and tell me what you got.”

“Ooooh, see that’s what I’m talking about.” More crunching, “But in all seriousness, that’s not the promise I want from you. I tell you this, you tell him if you have to, but don’t get involved, this shit is way too risky.”

“Aww, you care.”

“Fuck you.” He sighs, “Private airport, DC, supposedly some child-smuggling ring, links to human experimentation. That’s at least the story on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s books. Don’t have an exact date but it’s likely going to be within a week.”

Bold of them to stick with that structure even after telling you… but it was a good enough cover, and if it worked… Fuck.

“Y/N… don’t be a dumbass. Why you give a fuck I don’t know but if you need to tell him, do it. That’s it though. Don’t get yourself killed.”

“I won’t, promise.”

“Good.”

“Thanks, Wade, seriously.”

“Anytime.”

“Love ya, Y/N!” Vanessa calls out.

“You too boo! Fuck ‘em up for me.” She laughs and the call ends.

For the next ten minutes, you just stare at your phone. Your fingers trace the shape of your lips, remembering the way he tasted, how warm his body felt… Suddenly you realize you may actually miss him.

Finally, you pick up the phone and tap out a text:

Y/N: Hey. We need to talk ASAP. Call me?

Hours come and go. You run, work out, clean, anything to try to keep yourself distracted but it doesn’t help. Every minute he doesn’t respond fills you with dread.

When you can’t stand it any longer you call him. It rings and rings until his voicemail picks up. You don’t leave one.

Two days later you feel physically sick from the stress. What if you were too late? What if he…

The phone rings, and you practically drop it in your haste to pull the thing from your pocket.

“Steve!?” You hate how desperate you sound.

“It’s the job with the kids isn’t it?” His tone stings a little… still…

“Yeah, it is. Don’t know who took it but it’s a safe bet it’s not someone to fuck around with.”

“Right. Well, thanks for the heads up.”

“Steve?!”

“What.”

“I… uh…” You don’t know what you expected… this wasn’t it. “Just… ya know, don’t die.”

“No promises.” With that, he hangs up.

It hurts more than you want to admit. Angry you storm to the garage and begin beating your punching bag until your knuckles bleed and tears run down your face.

You had made peace that the life you chose was a fairly solitary one. It was better that way. For some reason, though he made you wish that wasn’t the case… it didn’t matter. You couldn’t have him, he didn’t want you… And he’d likely be in a flag covered casket by the end of the week.

That thought makes you freeze mid punch.

No. You can’t let that happen. Rushing through the house you gear up, wrap your knuckles, and in less than an hour, your bike is thundering down the highway.

You’d been living in Pittsburg so it doesn’t take you long to get to DC. The sun had just set when you stand at his door, banging, heart threatening to burst from your chest.

As soon as it’s clear that he’s not going to answer you go outside and work your way up the fire escape, prying the window open like you did the last time you were here.

“Steve?” You call out, begging that if nothing else you’ll see his shield… There’s no Steve and no shield. “Fuck.”

Wade didn’t tell you what private airport. You wrack your brain, there were two that were legit just outside the city but you knew there were a couple more exclusive ones that wouldn’t be found through a simple Google search. You don’t hesitate to call in some contacts to find out where this may be going down. If someone wanted to rat you out so be it.

Favors called in, promises given, you finally have it narrowed down to two places. One on the books one off. The first one is the obvious choice, used mainly by wealthy dignitaries looking to avoid customs and it’s closer. It’s also a dead end. Cursing yourself you pray you’re not too late as you rush to the other private airport near College Park.

The place is dead… as is the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent near the front of the small check-in area. It reminds you how easily this could go wrong. You slip your phone out and text Wade.

Y/N: Look. If I eat it tonight this isn’t on you. Idk why he matters but he does and I couldn’t stay out of it. You know where my stash is, take Vanessa somewhere nice if I don’t come out of this. Love ya.

If you did live he’d likely kick your ass after this. You’d welcome it. Taking a deep breath you stalk slowly deeper into the airport.

The silence eats at you making your anxiety rise. If there was still a fight going on you’d hear something… if he was…

You hear glass breaking from down the small terminal. Immediately you take cover. Unable to see you let your ears do the work. Two, maybe three, a groan and a snap echos in the space. Well… two people. A shot goes off and you flinch but you have to look.

The merc isn’t someone you know but he’s big, a mountain of a man who’s bulk rivals Steve’s. Brass knuckles on his massive hand, in the other a gun.

“Honestly,” he speaks, clearly American, “I thought this would be harder.” A sinister grin fills his face, “But who am I to complain?”

He rushes Steve, landing a blow to his solar plexus. Steve gasps and the shield clatters to the ground. Before you know it your gun is in your hand and you shoot, not to kill but to distract.

“What the fuck?!” He takes cover as you let loose another shot.

“You scare easy for a big fucker!” You taunt more to let Steve know who’s here.

The glint of the metal on his knuckles tips you off before he can take his shot and you tumble toward Steve who’s still getting his breath. Pushing him to the side you fire.  

“What the hell are you-”

“Shut the fuck up.” You growl at him. From your belt, you pull a flash bomb and hurl it toward the merc. In a second it goes off and you pull Steve to his feet. “Come on.”

You head toward the front of the terminal, previously abandoned but you can hear the shuffle of people. Steve pulls you against him and against the wall, shield in front of you.

“Not yours?” You ask looking up at his bloody face partly covered by the cowl.

“No.”

“Great.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says low in your ear.

“Neither should you.” You push away from him, “This way.” Hopefully, you could get out the back of the terminal before the merc got his vision back.

Holding close to the wall you manage to make it to a side door. Relief begins to tickle at you. You just may get out of this alive. With no assailants near, you turn to him.

“So, I warn you that someone is trying to kill you and all you can do is run straight for the reaper!? I mean I get you don’t like me or approve or whatever but come on you could have at least-”

Unblinking he flings his shield behind you with a swish. You turn in time to see it slam into someone's neck, snapping it.

“-listened to me,” you finish your statement voice flat with restrained surprise.

“Never said I didn’t like you,” he pushes past you to retrieve the shield. “We should aim for the back.” You nod and follow him.

You cover one another as you slowly make your way to the gated back portion of the airstrip. The shrubbery would provide just enough cover once you got there and-

A bullet grazes Steve’s shoulder causing his shield arm to go slack.

“Shit,” he hisses. The shot came from the single-engine plane you had just cleared.

Whirling you take aim at the assailant and catch them in the chest as they try to take cover off the wing. With a clatter they tumble to the ground, head making a sick crack on the asphalt.

“They must have sent a team,” you say kneeling to look at his wound.

“Ya think?” He sets the shield against his calf for a moment while he tries to move his arm.

“You’re making me regret showing up to save your ass.” He huffs out a little laugh.

It happens so fast you can’t think. A shot rings to your left and you both look. He must have seen or heard something you didn’t because he’s got you by the shoulders pulling you to the ground and under him. You can feel the moment the bullet hits his body. He groans and goes heavy on top of you.

“Steve!” He says nothing and you manage to push him off gently. Blood stains the navy of his suit a darker shade and you can see the tip of the bullet glinting against the fabric. Through and through.

You grab the shield and deflect another volley of bullets from the two of you. Glancing over you see the big man from before. Great.

“Just go,” Steve groans.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up earlier?” You rip your shirt off and toss it to him to press to his wound. “Don’t bleed out on me.”

Thinking fast you rise to your feet, shield before you and you fire at the man. One in the head, two in the chest. He’s only part of your problem. You can see movement toward the terminal…

The two of you need cover and a very loud distraction. You pull two smoke grenades and toss them toward the plane the shooter had been on. In just a minute there’s enough of a screen to shield you both for a moment.

“Ok,” you turn to him. “Cover your ears, it’s gonna get loud and then we’re gonna have to run like hell. Can you manage?”

He grimaces, blood suffusing his side. “Sure, why not.”

There’s no other choice. You pull the two concussion grenades you keep for special occasions from their holster. Flicking the pins and hoping for the best you hurl them one after the other in two directions before covering you both with the shield as best you can.

The one that lands by the plane has the desired effect, it blows close by and will only cause a bigger hazard as the fire you can see through the smoke spreads. The other doesn’t hit much but is loud enough to distract. Good.

“Time to go old man.” You help him up, shield on your free arm and you make your way to the fence. The link is easy to cut and you’re quickly through it into the brush.

“Where are we even going, Y/N? Just leave me here, my people will come and-”

“I’m not fucking leaving you.” Your tone is sharp. “We aren’t in the wilderness. There’s a strip mall not far. I’ll jump a car and get you…” Where?

“Just get me home.” You stare at him trying to gauge just how much he wanted to die. “If you take me to a hospital they’re gonna look for me and innocent people may get hurt. I’m not bleeding enough for this to be life-threatening-”

“You don’t-”

“You can stitch me up.” His smile is crooked.

“I’m not a fucking medic, Rogers.” If he died… You were wasting time. “Whatever fine. Come on.”

You manage to get him back to his apartment alive.

His massive form leans against you heavily. “Don’t fucking pass out on me now, Rogers.”

He grunts in response. “Table.”

Hastily you clear the mail and books from the table top. The heavy wooden furniture groans under him as he sits on it, shaking fingers fumbling to undo his tactical suit.

“Here,” you push his hands away. There are an annoying amount of zippers and connection points but you eventually get it loose to his waist.

Moving behind him you lean across the table to help slide the suit down his arms. At first, your breath catches at the way the muscles of his shoulders and upper back ripple, a fucking Grecian statue of a man. When your eyes trail down though…

Blood stains his side, leaking slowly from the bullet hole. Bruising, deep and painful, already blossoms around the wound. His arm is nowhere near as bad but still needs attention. You swallow hard, trying to calm the panic in your chest.

A clink on the table draws your eye away. The bullet, intact and bloody lies there.

“Jesus, Steve…” Your fingers barely touch the unbruised skin close to the wound. He shivers.

“Not to be an ass but-”

“Shit! Yeah, sorry.” Hurridly you run to the bathroom and tug out the first aid kit, in the same place it was before, and soak rags in warm water. When you come back in you notice Steve sway.

You slam everything down on the table. “Steve,” you grab him by the shoulders, “hey,” your hands move to cup his face. “Look at me.” Those cool blue eyes meet yours, hazy and distant, “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

His hands catch your wrists, strong fingers digging in. “No,” his voice is stern, eyes seeming to clear.

“Ok,” you don’t want to waste time fighting him. You wash your hands in scalding water, slip glovers over them, and pray to a god you had long since given up on that you don’t kill this man.

When you’re finally wrapping a bandage around him you feel like you’ve just sprinted 10 miles. Your hands are shaking, your nerves are fried, you want to throw up and pass out and have 40 drinks but… you did the fucking thing. So far, so good. He hadn’t fainted, bled out, or died.

You take a shaky breath as you secure the bandage and he catches your hands in his bloodstained paws. Slowly you drag your eyes to meet his, barely breathing.

“Thank you,” his features are so soft.

A dry laugh slips from you, “Thanks for not dying.” He squeezes your hands a bit.

“Come on,” you pull back to help him up. “Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed.”

“You don’t hav-”

“Consider it me protecting my hard work. I’m not about to have gone through that for you to fuck it up.”

“Fair,” he groans as he stands.

You guide him to the bathroom and he hesitates, “Seriously I-”

“Don’t blush Rogers, you’ve lost too much blood to send it running in places it shouldn’t be.” The look on his face is slightly shocked. You can’t help but laugh, “Look, do you really think you can get out of the rest of this gear on your own?” He shrugs. “No. You can’t. Don’t be a baby.”

Gently you push him toward the bathroom. “Sit.” He does so on the edge of the tub.

-

Steve watches you kneel before him, sure fingers untying the laces on his boots.

There was a time in his life he was used to being cared for. Honestly, it felt both like yesterday and an age ago… Unsurprisingly he still absolutely hates it.

You were right though. He wasn’t in the shape to do it himself.

“Stand for a sec, we need to get this suit off.”

He swallows hard. It wasn’t that he was particularly shy… but…

“I can’t let you hang around in bloody clothes, man.”

All he can manage is a nod. His legs shake as he stands and his head swims a bit from blood loss and lack of sleep. When was the last time he had a solid night’s sleep…

“Stay with me,” you reach out steadying him.

“Tryin’,” his tongue is thick in his mouth.

“Just a bit longer.” You give him a gentle reassuring smile.

He feels almost drunk. “You have a beautiful smile.” The words just fall from his lips. Some part of him is mortified until your smile brightens even more before you look away. “Now who’s blushing?” He teases.

“Ya know I was gonna let you keep some of your dignity and give you a towel to cover up with. Now I’m not so sure.” You look back at him and wink.

“I got nothin’ to hide.”

“I bet.” That spark in your eyes makes the muscles in his abdomen clench painfully.

He’d be lying if he tried to pretend he’d never wondered what you’d look like on your knees. However, in none of his imaginings were you working a blood-soaked tac suit off him while he fought to stay conscious. But since when had anything in his life gone to plan?

“Boxers?”

He blinks at you, “What?”

“Your boxers. You need some that don’t look like evidence.”

He looks down, the ones he’s wearing are half grey and half crimson. “Top drawer.” You disappear and return with boxers and sweats.

You hand him a towel, “Thought I’d be nice.”

Wordlessly he takes it, holding it loosely in front of himself. When your fingers hook around the elastic of his boxers, your body lowering slowly down with the garment, eyes locked on his, he feels like he can’t breathe.

“Hangin’ in there, Cap?” Mischief glints in your eyes.

“Mhm,” he nods his head. You turn to wet a rag and, despite his best efforts, his mind fills with images of tearing your tac pants off your body and fucking you over the sink until you can’t stand.

His throat goes dry as you turn back. Unsuccessfully he tries holding the towel out a touch further to hide how hard he is.

The corner of your mouth ticks up, your warm hand on his chest causing his heart to beat a little faster. “What’d I say about keeping blood where it belongs?” Your voice is a purr.

Steve huffs out a small laugh, grimacing at the movement. You drop to your knees, gently washing the blood off his thigh. Bullet wound be damned. His fingers release his grip on the towel.

“Steve…” Your eyes lift up to his, the tip of your tongue flitting out to touch your bottom lip. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “You just got shot… I don’t want to hur-“

“Please.” He doesn’t care. Doesn’t care that his knees feel week, that his head is filled with fog, or that he could have died tonight. He didn’t die. And he wants you… it’s the first time he’s wanted anything… anyone, in so long…

He won’t force you but his eyes are begging, he knows. As you stand disappointment feels heavy in his gut. But…

The bloodstained rag lands with a thwack in the tub. Your calloused palm rubs the stubble on his cheek before pulling his face to yours. It’s a soft kiss, your mouth warm and inviting. He groans as your hand wraps around his cock.

“Sit,” you whisper against his lips. He lowers to the edge of the tub and you settle between his thighs.

Your fingers trail feather light touches down his chest, your lips following close behind. Lust and adrenaline clear his mind. Even so, there’s nothing but you right now.

Those eyes of yours look up at him, smirk on your full lips. Your tongue languidly runs up the length of him, catching the bead of moisture gathering at his head. His breath stutters and you hesitate.

“Please don’t stop.” He needs this… maybe more than he wants it.

Without hesitation your tongue traces his head before taking the length of him, your eyes never wavering. He hit’s the back of your throat and a growl rumbles in his chest. One hand grips the tub’s edge his other cupping the back of your head.

Lifting up, your hand wraps around his shaft, twisting a touch as your mouth applies the faintest suction to his head. The fingers of your free hand run over his balls and down…

His head falls back. Deft fingers massage the tender flesh just behind his sack while your palm cups his balls, pressing up ever so slightly. After only a few minutes the steady motion… the sound… his exhaustion… everything comes to a peak.

“Y/N… I… I…” The words won’t form. He can’t…

Fingers tangle in your thick hair, his body tenses, and the sound that tears through him is not quite a scream but it’s more than a moan. It reverberates against the tile walls. His body shakes.

When his vision clears he sees you, eye level, brushing a drop of cum from the edge of your grinning mouth. His eyes flutter.

“If you faint on me I swear…”

“No, I… I’m good.” With a shaking hand, he pulls your face to his, kissing you softly. “I am afraid I won’t be able to repay the favor tonight I-”

“Don’t. Consider it a thank you for taking a bullet for me.”

“I didn-”

“Yes, you did.” Your gaze is stern and he knows he can’t argue. He did. He knows he did.

Cleaned up, dressed, and thoroughly spent he lets you lead him to his bed. He winces, as his back meets the mattress.

You sit next to him on the bed, “Do you have anything you can take for pain?”

He shakes his head, “Nothing really works. Perk of being a super soldier…”

“That’s some shit.” He nods. “Are you comfortable enough?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” your gaze shifts away.

Sighing you stand. For reasons he’s too exhausted to identify, panic grips his chest and his hand shoots out for yours.

“Don’t go… please… I… I don’t…” Want to be alone. Are the words his pride just won’t let him say, even now.

Your fingers lace between his, “I wasn’t gonna leave you, Steve. Not like this.” Relief floods his body. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

He tightens his grip. “You don’t have to sleep out there… it’s a big bed.” A hopeful, crooked smile lifts his lips.

“Ok… but I’m stealing a shirt.” Your smile makes your eyes flash and his heart leap.

“Fine by me.”

He drifts off once you disappear into the bathroom only waking when he feels you slide into the bed next to him. Eyes at half mast he reaches out to you. Carefully you let him pull you close.

This… the feeling of you next to him, your hand over his heart, cheek on his chest… he didn’t know how desperately he needed this. Despite the wound in his side and everything in his head, he sleeps hard through the night.

Morning’s light slowly wakes him. Already the serum in his veins has worked overtime, the pain far less than it was last night.

A rustling next to him draws his gaze and warmth fills his chest. He expected you to be gone by morning… Instead, you’re sound asleep, back pressed to his side.

His smile is so wide it makes his cheeks ache a bit. Worried that he’ll wake you if he moves he contentedly dozes, opening his eyes here and there to watch the steady rise and fall of your breath or study the colors of your hair in the sunlight.

He wants to paint you… just like this… He closes his eyes, imagining the canvas.

“Good morning,” your voice sounds petal soft. His eyes open to see your face in the warm light, a soft smile on your lips.

“Morning.” Neither of you says more. Somehow you’re content to study the other… Until your phone begins to blare a song from your pants pocket.

“Shit!” Frantically you scramble up and fish the phone from your pants.

“Hey!” Your tone is forced. Someone screams something on the other end, he can’t quite make out the words though. “Not dead. Sorry… I… I know… I… Wade… Just…” He sees your features shift, “Yeah… Yeah, I got it. Love you too.”

You toss the phone on the end of the bed and rub your hands over your face. The last bit of that conversation had him burning though…

“Boyfriend?”

“What?” Your brows knit. “Oh! Fuck no.” You laugh a little and he feels himself cool. “Best friend. He tipped me off about last night, told me not to get involved…”

“And he’s pissed you didn’t listen.”

“Something like that…” You look at him, eyes… sad.

“Y/N?”

“I have to go…” You catch your bottom lip in your teeth.

He shoots up from the bed, wincing at the pain but not stopped by it. “Why? Do they know you-”

“No,” you hold your hands up, resting them against his chest when he stops in front of you. “They suspect though so it’s best I get the hell outta dodge before they can confirm anything.”

“You don’t have to go…” His voice holds a twinge of desperation. “I can get you S.H.I.E.L.D. protection,” something darkens your features at this but he keeps going, “and I would… look out for you.” He rests his hands on your shoulders.

Your eyes fix to the floor, “I can’t, Steve. It’s too risky for both of us.” The twinge in his chest is alleviated a touch by the look of longing on your face when he tilts your chin up.

“I need you to promise me something.” Your somber tone chills him.

“Ok…”

“Look out for yourself, watch your back. Don’t trust anyone, even S.H.I.E.L.D. to protect you…”

“Y/N… I’ve got good people, you don’t have to-”

“Promise me, Steve. Even good people can be bought.”

“They couldn’t buy you,” he traces the curve of your brow down to your soft, rose-colored lips.

That smirk again, “I’m not good people.”

“Yes, you are.” Pulling you to him he kisses you, hard this time, hungry. A few steps back and he has you pinned against the wall, he can feel your heart thundering in your chest.

“You could stay and have my back,” his lips graze the tender flesh under your ear.

“I can’t,” your voice is thick with emotion. When he looks at you tears shimmer in your eyes, threatening to fall.

“Please…” A trembling hand cups his face, “Please, promise me you’ll be smart… don’t-” Your voice cracks but you fight to keep your composure. “Don’t run toward death…”

He’s not certain it’s a promise he can keep but… “I promise, Y/N.” One tear escapes the corner of your eye, he thumbs it away. “But you have to promise the same.”

A bitter laugh pops out, “I’m not the one to worry about here but… yeah. I promise.”

He kisses you again, wanting to hold on to the way it makes his chest burn, the movement of your lips on his the… Feeling of being alive, not just angry, for the first time in a long time.

The two of you say nothing else, each seemingly not trusting what may come from your mouth, as you change. He sits on the edge of the bed, watching you, dreading the moment he has to let you go.

“You should definitely get that looked at,” you gesture to the bandage.

“What? Don’t trust your tabletop nursing skills?”

“Absolutely not.”

He slowly stands, “I will.”

Without prompting, you wrap your arms around him, taking care to avoid his injury, and tuck your face in his neck. The two of you stand like that for a while.

There are so many things he wants to say but he doesn’t. He just contents himself with burying his nose in your hair, allowing the warm intimacy of the moment to wash over him.

A heavy sigh tickles over his skin and he knows it’s time to let go.

At the door you turn back to him, eyes glassy once more. “Remember, don’t trust anyone… not with everything.”

“I got it.” One final time his lips press to yours, slow and longing.

Your forehead rests against his, your eyes speaking volumes, as you whisper, “I’ll miss you, Steve Rogers.”

Those three words hit him harder than that bullet had. His mouth hangs slack just a touch.

You smile, “Gonna catch a fly.” Playfully you lift up his chin. “Be safe.”

“You too, Y/N.”

One more kiss… and again… you’re gone.

-

True to form. Steve Rogers surprises you. This time by wheedling his way into your heart and mind so deep you cannot fucking shake him.

To protect you both you don’t call or text, the risk too high. You do, however, send him a letter. There’s no return address and no long written missives. The papers contain numbers, coordinates for a house in Buffalo New York and two words. Love, Zelda With a red lip print over them.

You don’t expect him to come here. All you wanted was for him to know you were safe and that if he needed a place to go he had it.

A few jobs came and went. Winter faded into spring. You began to wonder if maybe you could meet up now if things had quieted enough. Because despite trying desperately to convince yourself otherwise… you desperately missed him.

Then all hell broke loose.

Glued in front of your TV you watch in horror as S.H.I.E.L.D., quite literally falls. You’re blowing up with information from all your contacts. Inbox, dark web forums, everything.

Hours pass that feel like days… No one had reported on Steve’s condition, just that Captain America had been spotted in the fight. A curious numb sensation creeps over you at the thought that he may be gone.

Finally, someone comes through. This time it’s not your usual sources but an old military friend. Rogers was in his hospital, injured but not at risk of death, and no, he wasn’t alone. Someone, a male friend, was with him. Had been the whole time. You nearly sob from relief.

As media attention on the fiasco rises you know there’s no way for you to get close without being spotted. The last thing he needs is to be seen with someone like you. So you allow yourself to be thankful that he’s still here, letting that be enough.

Several weeks later you pass out hard after a long, trying day.

The Hydra files Romanoff released had rocked your world. Nearly everyone you knew had been pinged by those bastards at some point. Including you. This meant everyone was reevaluating their loyalties, cutting ties, and more than a few had already been put down… The fear and paranoia were real and exhausting.  

When a sound from your kitchen hits your ears in the middle of the night you shoot up. Hand already wrapped around the pistol under your pillow. Apparently, this was the day.

Not bothering with formalities like pants, you quietly creep to your cracked bedroom door and nudge it open just enough. Without a sound you stalk down the short hall, breath bated.

All you can see in the dim light is the intruder’s back. Wide, shoulders move as they finish a bottle of whiskey and set it down, not even trying to be quiet. A car passes and illuminates familiar golden hair. Steve…

You lower your gun, “Wanna tell me what you’re doing in my kitchen at three in the morning?”

He turns slowly, the shadows making his features almost sinister. “Did you know?” Voice barely above a whisper.

“Know what?” You set the gun on a side table and move to stand on the opposite side of the kitchen island. “About S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

Almost too fast for your eyes to follow, he rounds the counter, grabbing your shoulders and pinning you hard against the wall. Your breath is heavy from a mix of fear and maybe a touch of excitement.  

“Fuck S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Ok,” your voice breathy as you try to regain composure. “Well for what it’s worth, no, I suspected S.H.I.E.L.D. but I didn’t have anything concrete. Hydra…” Your eyes dart away, “That I did know about…”

“No,” his fingers dig into your upper arms, his breath scented with whiskey. “The Winter Soldier,” he spits the title out, “did you know who he was?!”

You look back to him, brows knit. “Uh… until a few weeks ago I thought he was the bogeyman of criminals… so… no. Should I know him?”

Some of the rage seeps from Steve’s features, “Steve?” You place your hand against his unshaven cheek.

In an instant, his mouth covers yours, warm and whiskey flavored. You almost groan in satisfaction. His massive form presses into you and you savor the sensation.

He runs his hands down your sides as your arms curl around his neck. When he slips his hand in the front of your boy shorts you make a small sound, you already know what he’ll find.

When he feels your moisture, those strong fingers sliding just over your damp folds a grin fills his face but he doesn’t make a move.

“Please,” you echo his request from months before.

That's all it takes. His lips crash against yours, teeth knocking slightly, and two of his fingers slip in, stretching you open. You moan into his mouth, hips bucking, your body hungry for him.

Wanting to touch him your hands move under his shirt, holding his sides as he works your cunt. When his fingers curl up just enough your nails dig into his skin. You feel the tension gather in your abdomen. Wordlessly you beg him not to stop.

“Steve…” Your breath hitches.

His thumb rolls lightly over your clit. Your head would have thudded against the wall had he not cupped it, forcing your gaze to stay on him. His blue eyes burn into you, he picks up the pace, thumb making steady circles over your throbbing clit.

“Fuck… fuck…”

“Come for me,” he growls.

You do. In earth-shattering fashion. Crying out, electricity pulses through your body, your legs tremble, your knees give way. He pulls his hand out of your underwear and catches you, holding your trembling body close.

This lasts only until you feel the length of him move through his denim. That was incredible but you want all of him.

Your unsteady hands reach for his belt. Fingers, that can’t quite obey orders yet try to convince the offending garment to give up its prize. His hands grasp yours, stopping their work.

He kisses you, the distraction enough that you don’t resist him as he spins you toward the island. Strong hands turn you, pressing your back to his chest.

Lips trail down your neck, goosebumps cover your skin. He catches the hem of your tee and pulls it over your head. Not trusting your legs to hold you, your hands brace against the counter and his teeth bite at the soft flesh where your neck and shoulders meet.

“Steve,” you breathe out.

The tinkling of his belt buckle hits your ears and fuck, a zipper going down had never sounded so promising.

His hand wraps lightly around your throat, tilting your head back just under his chin. “How do you want it?” His voice burning velvet.

Your eyes flit to his, “Give me everything. Don’t hold back.” Lust sparks in his eyes and he kisses you breathless.

Moving your underwear to the side with one hand and pressing your chest to the counter with the other he slams the full length of his cock into you. You gasp raggedly, body pressing back to him. This is the best kind of hurt.

Steel fingers dig into your hips holding you steady as he fucks you so hard you forget anything else. Your moans and cries mingle with his low sounds. Everything is this.

His hands release you but he doesn’t stop fucking you. Vaguely, you’re aware of something falling to your side. When he grabs a fistful of your hair pulling you up against him you realize it was his shirt, his burning flesh pressed to your own.

The other hand dips into your sopping boy shorts and effortlessly locates your clit once more, his cock throbbing inside you.

“Look at me,” he says in a gravel tone. You do as he asks and a whimper slips from you, his fingers and cock driving you mad. “You like that, baby?”

Words are lost. He fills your parted lips with a kiss and you fill his mouth with your cries of pleasure as you come once more.

You can hardly breathe now, much less stand. With a self-satisfied smirk on his lips, he lifts you into his arms. Your hungry mouth kisses and nibbles the salty skin of his neck as he carries you back to your room.

Tossing you on the bed he slips out of his jeans and you free yourself of your underwear. For a moment he just stares at you, on your back in the dim space, legs spread, waiting for him to take you.

Moving with the fluidity of a big cat he hovers over you. Your hands trail over the solid muscles of his back, fascinated at the power housed in this body.

This time he enters you slowly. Your legs wrap around him and a low rumble vibrates through his chest.

“Y/N,” he hums next to your ear.

You grab his face, bringing it up so you can see him. His breath is ragged. Intentionally you tighten your walls against him his lids flutter and a soft moan falls from his lips.

His pace quickens and your body responds, hips rising to meet him, demanding evermore.

“Fuck,” he breathes out grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head with one hand. The other lifts your head to more easily kiss you.

“C-can I,” he stutters between kisses.

“Yes,” your legs tighten around him, “god yes.”

He roars, your back arches up, moan raw tearing from some hidden place in you. Then there’s nothing but the soft sounds of your panting breaths.

Steve’s body shakes, the weight of it on you strangely comforting. When he looks at you all the rage and fire are gone, replaced with a mournful sadness. The past few weeks had been hard on you… they had to be hell on earth for him.

Tenderly you kiss him. “Stay here.”

His brows knit, “You sure…? I… I… don’t…”

“Hush,” your fingers try to coax the lines of his forehead into relaxing. “I want you to stay.”

You’re thankful he doesn’t protest more. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything. He does let you hold him. At times you think he may be crying but his cheeks are dry despite his labored breathing.

You’re drifting off, for now resting your head on his chest, when he asks, “Do you like your bed?”

“Huh?” You aren’t sure your groggy brain understood.

“Your bed. Do you… like it?”

You consider for a minute. “It’s ok. Kinda soft.” Honestly, you could never find the right firmness.

He laughs a little, “Apparently it’s a complaint a lot of Vets have. Bed’s being too soft.”

Leaning up on an elbow you look down at him, “Ya know… You’re right. Friend’s of mine complained about that too. Sometimes…” You shake your head a bit at yourself, “Sometimes I even sleep on the floor if I can’t fall asleep in my bed.”

Steve softly caresses the side of your face, a weak smile on his lips, “Me too.”

“Do you want to?” Hopping off the bed you pull the comforter off, not giving him time to answer. “Grab the pillows. No need to deny ourselves that small comfort.”

“We don’t… I wasn’t…”

You’re already laying the comforter on the ground. “I want to. Now come on.”

He brings the pillows over and arranges them while you grab another blanket for you both to cover up with. Quickly the two of you settle down.

After a while, Steve whispers into your hair, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have anything to thank me for, Rogers.”

“Yeah, I do.” You look up at him, his eyes glassy in the dim light. “You saw all of me… the darkest parts… from the beginning and you didn’t run away.”

“Technically…” You tease.

“Shut up,” he smiles but a tear finally works it’s way free. You brush it away.

“You’re not alone, Steve. We all have our dark sides. I’m right there with you.”

He nods, chewing on his bottom lip. 

Now the tears come. Silent at first and he doesn’t let you brush them away or offer him comfort of any kind. He just hides his face, one knee pulled up. When the sobs start you don’t let him push you away.

You can’t fathom the depth of his grief. Everything and everyone he lost… now he had the one thing that gave him stability ripped from under his feet… You don’t have to truly understand it to anchor him though.

Captain America may look out for everyone else. He may be the beacon and hero the country, hell the world, needs right now… But you, you would look out for Steve Rogers. No matter what.

@mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @buckysstar @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @siriuslycloudy2

[mysticsparklewings]

Fairy Enchanting‪

A bit later than I expected, but here we have the art that I used for the examples on my Commission Sheet! (Unoriginal title is unoriginal and also a pun based on "very enchanting") When I started thinking about putting together a commission sheet in the first place (which was something I wanted to do for the new year, as before I was just using a lengthy pricelist), I knew that I wanted to make a piece of art specifically for it and track my progress as I went, so that I would have an example for each stage in the process I take commissions for. And for the art, I more or less wanted to "go all out" since it's supposed to be an example, and I figure the example needs to be as close to top-notch as possible. Admittedly, I probably could've done even more than this, but me being me I procrastinated and ended up having less time to work on this that I initially expected, so... In deciding what the drawing would be, I also decided to return to my roots a little, and a do fairy as an homage to back when I used to do Winx art all the time. Likewise, as Enchantix to this day is my favorite transformation from the show, I drew heavy inspiration from it, and I'm sure that's so obvious that if you know the show I probably didn't have to point it out to you. Anyway. I actually didn't start completely from scratch with the sketch; I re-used this pose from a previous sketch I did that never saw a full-finished piece. I liked that other sketch okay, but it didn't feel like a "finish me" project. I did have to alter the feet because the original sketch was made with feet for ballet slippers (bigger heels, more rounded/curved toes, etc.) and much later on in the process I ended up angling the leg on the left more outward, as that felt more natural for the direction I was taking this new sketch in. In sketching all the bits that make this sketch otherwise unique from the old one, as I mentioned, I was taking heavy inspiration from Enchantix. One of my favorite parts of the transformation has always been the leg-wrap/barefoot sandals, for reasons I can't explain. So those were a must. I also really like how the Enchantix outfits tend to be short dresses that are more form-fitting at the top and more flowy and soft at the bottom. Here, I decided to bring the ribbony look on the leg wraps up into the bodice, and to frame the collar/shoulder area I used a sleeve & choker style similar to what I did for the dress for Ink Dance, which itself was based on a dress I actually own and love to pieces despite never getting a chance to wear it because of how fancy it is. The main difference for both of the drawing versions is that I skipped the lace overlay that connects the sleeves and choker, mostly because both pieces are traditional and drawing lace/mesh traditionally, especially when it's so teeny, is a nightmare I do not want to engage with. And the choker part fits nicely, as in Enchantix each fairy has a necklace (usually a choker) that holds their fairy dust bottle. I'm not sure if this fairy has one or not, but she very well could! Enchantix usually has long gloves, but I altered these to be shorter and fingerless (more like Magic Winx or Believix gloves) since this fairy is also based partially on myself, and I'd be more likely to wear that kind than the full-length formal gloves. And for the hair, as is maybe obvious, I was primarily inspired by Stella's for her Enchantix, since I've always loved that part of the transformation sequence for her's. Also, even though it doesn't look that way on my commission sheet, IRL I drew only one wing and left it separate, off to the side, to make positioning and flipping it easier. Once the sketch was done, I did try inking it traditionally/by hand once, and I just really wasn't happy with how it turned out. And I also realized I had drawn the skirt billowing/ruffling in completely the wrong direction anyway; It was moving to the left when it should've been moving to the right like the hair. So I had to take time out to fix that. As opposed to wasting more paper trying to ink traditionally after that fiasco, I instead went with what had been my gut instinct anyway; I scanned the sketch in and did the lines in Photoshop. Well, most of the lines. I was a dumb-dumb and when I did the lines for the wings, 1. it took forever because they're large curves everywhere and 2. I used a slightly bigger brush than for all the other lines, as I had mistakenly thought I was going to be re-sizing them significantly and the lines would be altered to for me when I did that. When I realized that wasn't the case, I did not want to have to redraw most of those curves again and risk not being able to get the right a second time. So I ended up booting a copy of the wings I'd already done into Paint Tool Sai and made use of the linework layers to redo the wings without having to draw the same line fifty times. Then I booted that back into Photoshop and adjusted the wings to be angled/aligned with the rest of the lines as I saw necessary. It was also at this point that I played around with positioning the leg on the left more outward than what it was on the sketch and ended up going with the position you see here. I could have then gone back and added weight to the lines in some places, but at this stage, I was already thinking that I wanted to print the lines out and use my digital lines to hopefully get cleaner traditional ones, as opposed to just printing the lines off outright. (Mostly because I wanted to use some super thick mixed media paper that I would bet serious money will not go through my printer.) That's what I ended up doing, and I have to say that attempt went a lot more smoothly than me trying to ink from the original sketch. And once I had the initial lines done, then I went back and thickened them in certain places. And I should probably mention here that the wings were a little tricky to figure out how to handle traditionally, as that's not something I've had to do very often. I ended up using my clear stardust gelly roll when I did the normal inking, and then, later on, I used colored pencils to go back over the outlines before coloring them in. After doing some tests, I started coloring with markers for the hair and skin, and a little colored pencil for some blush. I tried to get a little more bold with the shading than I usually do, which I'm sure still looks pretty tame compared to most. But I'd rather the shading be too light than too dark. Originally, I thought I was going to do all or mostly all of the coloring with alcohol markers. (Sidenote: is it just me or does it seem like there’s a lot of alcohol marker related stuff going on in the art world lately??) But then I did some testing with the lines I originally inked and didn’t like, and was reminded why I normally don’t use alcohol markers for gradients like the one on the skirt...frankly, I’m not very good at them...yet. Even though the test went better than expected, I still wasn’t happy with it. Then I tried a few more tests with watercolor, and that didn’t fare much better. Watercolor would’ve worked if the gradient wasn’t also supposed to be shaded, I think, but trying to shade it without using another supply wasn’t working. That left me with good ol' tried and true colored pencils. But colored pencils are relatively slow and textured, and I didn't really want that for the skin. The texture would've worked for the hair, but I didn't want to make the time investment for it either. And so I ended up sticking to my mixed media instincts and I used the colored pencil exclusively where I had to (on the dress so I could get the gradient for the skirt right) and then I used alcohol markers everywhere else, shading and all. With the alcohol marker doing most of the work, then I came back and added additional shading/highlights with the colored pencils as needed to everything except the skin. I added blush, but otherwise, I was quite pleased with how the skin turned out and didn't want to touch it for the risk of ruining it. The dress is supposed to be black/really dark gray, but I did brighten it up a bit with some of the blues from the skirt gradient as opposed to pulling out specific grays, so it definitely looks/feels more navy in the final product. Although my relatively dark/saturated color choices for her outfit made figuring out what to then do with the wings more challenging. I didn't want the wings to be the exact same colors as the rest of the drawing, because then they'd blend in too easily and be too distracting from the rest of the piece. But at the same time, I wanted them to match/look like they belong. (Again, similar to how the wings are in Enchantix) After some back-and-forth testing and a LOT of color sampling, I decided to color the wings in with alcohol markers in colors that were similar to her clothes but overall lighter/more pastel and outline them and the sections inside the wings again in colored pencil. Most of the colored pencil is slightly darker than the marker colors I picked, but I went with purple for the black/gray rims of the wings because I thought a dark gray or black would be too harsh. I'd already decided I wanted to do a slightly more complex background digitally, but even with that in mind, the traditional drawing still felt like it was missing one more thing after that. Namely, the wings didn't seem special enough. I realize that sounds a little weird; I was just talking about how I didn't want the wings to be too distracting, but I think there is a delicate balance to having them be special in the way fairy wings should be while still not overpowering everything else. And I'm not sure I achieved that, but I at least tried to. Though not a perfect solution, I ended up adding some metallic watercolor on top of the "true" (less purple-y) blue and pink sections on the wings.  You can't really tell here on the scan, and what little you can appears to be the wrong color, but in person, both colors now how a lovely pink or blue sheen to them when you move the picture in the light. (The metallic paints, in this case, are very opalescent, so they're almost completely transparent when you see the flat color despite still have a really pretty metallic sheen in the light.) After that, I felt there wasn't much more I could do traditionally, so I scanned it and moved on to that background. At this point, I was kinda pressed for time because me being me, I had unintentionally put making my commission sheet off to the last minute. I really wanted to have it finished before the ball dropped on New Years' Eve ("new year, new me" and all that jazz), and I still hadn't finished my example art by sunset time the day of. So I had to keep things moving. Early on, I'd had the idea to either digitally make a slightly more complex (but not too complex; I wanted to keep at least a little of the sanity I have left) background or perhaps make a special watercolor piece to use as the background. Unfortunately, I just didn't have the time for that anymore if I wanted to have the commission sheet finished by my self-imposed deadline. (And if we're splitting hairs, in theory, I could still go back and change the background if I wanted to, for reasons I'm about to go over, so of all the things to get rush-cut that's really not so bad.) What I ended up doing instead was taking some of the left side of my Starfall Mountains painting (I was looking for a background-type thing I'd already done/made that would suit this drawing or that I could quickly tailor to make it work, and I'm just as surprised as anyone else that this frustrating tiny painting ended up being the one I liked best of my options) and I blew it up to comfortable cover the background here, flipped it around so the colors would flow a bit better, and used the hue/saturation slider to make it more of teal color for a little more contrast. But of course, there was still just one more thing missing, even after all that. After a little tinkering, I decided I didn't like trying to making the wings transparent (I could do it, I just didn't like the way it looked in this case), so I went in and added a touch of sparkles digitally to both tie them more into the piece as a whole and to give them a little more pizzazz. And finally, blessedly after all of that, the artwork was finished, I was very happy with it, and I could move on to making the actual commission sheet.   I have to say, for as rushed as it was towards the end, I do really like how it turned out. More particularly I like just how blended both digital and traditional art ended up being here. To me, this is the next step beyond what I was able to do for mixing digital and traditional art with my Doodle Moon piece, and if I weren't currently in the middle of a tablet crisis, I'd really want to do more with this concept of going back and forth between the two on one artwork. However because of the tablet situation, the thought of really trying to do that right now kinda fills me with dread, so we're gonna have to wait a little while on that. I do also really like the anatomy/proportions in this. Which is not something I normally feel comfortable saying.   It's not the best art I've ever made or anything, but looking at it makes me happy. It's good to see it finished and it's good to think of where a lot of the ideas for it came from. (Re: Nostalgia for my life a few years ago) I'm not sure if I will since it kinda counts but also kinda doesn't(?), but I'm tempted to put this and some of my old Enchantix drawings up on the "Draw This Again" template, just to show how far I've come. I'm still thinking about it, we'll see. Speaking of "we'll see," I got word that the sketchbooks from the contest I made Designiest Design for back in October are finally in, which means the prize packs should be sent out anytime now! I'm excited to see how the sketchbooks turned out and get my hands on the Powder Pack and see how said powders work! I was admittedly starting to wonder how that was coming along, so that was some good news and a nice surprise I'd really been needing here lately. Rest assured, there will almost definitely be an art piece talking about that stuff once I have it in my hands! 

____ Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings ____ Where to find me & my artwork: My Website | Commission Info + Prices | Ko-Fi | dA Print Shop | RedBubble |   Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram

[cynicallystiles]

And A Day...

Disclaimer: Gif originally posted by me.

Author: @cynicallystiles

Warning: Hella long, MEGA ANGST, IW, an allusion to sex, swearing and minor fluff

Notes: So, no one asked for a super angsty Infinity War Peter fic but you’re gonna get one because I need somewhere to put all my emotions after the Endgame trailer. Italics are flashbacks. Also, the last flashback takes place before the third flashback. I just wrote them in weird. Enjoy sharing my pain! Please COMMENT/REBLOG if you enjoy. (Ignore my shitty gif making)

Pairing: Peter Parker/Spider-Man x Reader

Masterlist in Bio

Words: 12,511

You sat comfortably despite the jostling of the school bus. The comfort came from Peter's left arm slung over your shoulders warmly. He held that hand open, palm-down so you could trace the lines on his palm mindlessly with your fingertips. He whispers something so utterly him about the coming field trip to MoMA and leaves his forehead on your temple as you giggle.

All was normal. Usually, life was hectic being with Peter. He had responsibilities, and you did your best to be his support system because you knew it took its toll on him. You always make sure to appreciate these moments, never knowing when they'll be ripped away by chaos. As if on cue, you feel his skin bristle under your touch. If you didn't know any better, you'd think it was just goosebumps. But, you did know better.

"Peter Benjamin Parker!" You groaned the name of your best friend into your phone as you sat with your feet dangling off of your fire escape. The cold wind flutters the skirt of your dress around your knees as you swing your feet. "You promised you would be here by now!”

Peter's voice cut you off from the other end of the line. "Ah, ah, ah!" He says urgently. "I specifically never promised that just in case I got held up!" He grunts and pants in between his words and you really wondered what the hell he was doing.

"Okay, yeah! You didn't use the 'p' word, but you strongly suggested that you would be here," you remind him as the level of your voice decreases with your anger. Your eyes close and you rest your head against the rail sadly. "I'm sorry, y/n! But, there's this job-" his sentence abruptly cuts out before you hear a crashing sound. A minute or so later, he continues speaking more evenly. "You know I would be there if this wasn't important."

You scoff, frustrated tears beginning to brim in your eyes against the wind. "Wow," you breathe out. "What could be more important than my birthday? You're fifteen, you don't have a job! I'm not that stupid, Peter-"

"Woah, woah, woah!" He interrupts again. "Y/n...I would never, ever think you're stupid!"

As you blink, a couple of tears spill from your eyes and you quickly wipe them away with your other hand. "Well, you would have to in order for you to think that I would believe all your lame excuses for ditching me lately."

"Y/n, I'm sorry..." his voice cracks on the other end. "I-I can make it up to you. Just wait up for me. I'm on my-"

This time, it's you who cuts him off. "No, Peter. Don't even bother," you say with a trembling voice, "My birthday is already ruined." Breathing in a calming breath, you speak with more control in your voice. "Goodnight, Peter. I'll see you at school."

"No, no, no, no. Y/n, wait-" Peter stares at your contact picture on his phone. He really screwed up this time. But, how is he supposed to balance being the perfect best friend with his new duties as a superhero? Peter couldn't just tell you about it, either. Then, you'd always be in danger. He tucks his phone away safely before swinging back home on his webs.

After you hung up the phone, you went back inside to the party that your mom had worked so hard to throw for you. You tried to perk up for the remainder of it; Peter had already missed cake, presents, and the ceremonial game of Just Dance.

You sit at the kitchen island, sipping some soda as you watch Michelle and Ned facing off, his hat barely staying on his head. Not too long later, it's time for everyone to go home. It is a school night after all. You stand at the door, bidding everyone goodbye before helping your mom clean up the mess.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," she calls as you head to your room. "And happy birthday!" You thank her before closing the door and changing into your pajamas.

You flick on your desk lamp before turning off your overhead light. Pulling your homework from your book bag, you spread it out on your desk to finish it before bed. As you pored over your homework, a dreadful feeling caused your stomach to sink. Once your homework was finished, you turned off your lamp. Before settling into your bed, you touch the rectangular lamp in your windowsill. It lights up a gradient green and across the street, you look into Peter's window to see that his rectangle has lit up a gradient purple. A tiny smile peeks at the corner of your lips. Of course, he would set it as your favorite color.

Disappointment floods through your veins making it hard to fall asleep. You really can't believe that Peter would miss your fifteenth birthday. More and more lately, it seemed like Peter was getting tired of you and your friendship. The thought made your heart ache unimaginably.

Though you couldn't say why. Peter was just your best friend. Sometimes, best friends grow out of each other and you find new ones. It's no big deal. Maybe sometimes you looked at Peter and saw him as more than your best friend. You shouldn't, but you can't help it. It's Peter.

The more you thought about how much you really liked him, the sadder you got. You couldn't help the silent tears from slipping down your face and onto your pillow. When your lip begins to tremble, you close your eyes tight to try and fight the cries that want to come.

Peter lands on the wall just beside his bedroom window. As he goes to creep into his room, he notices a light that wasn't on before he left. Once inside, he gently drops down onto the floor and takes off his mask. He looks at the lamp on his windowsill, lit up with your favorite color.

A heaviness settles into his chest and he reaches out to touch his lamp. As he rests his palm on the lamp, he looks across the street to watch yours change colors. It changes from green to blue, his favorite color. Your lamp changing colors in your windowsill causes you to open your eyes. Sniffling in order to try and breathe through your nose, you stand up and go to your window. You look across the way and barely see a figure illuminated by the dim light of the lamp.

Peter continues to stare as he sees you appear in the window. He makes eye contact with you, though you don't know it, while you slowly lean to the side of the window. At first, he doesn't know what you're doing. But abruptly, the light from both of your lamps goes out and you disappear from the window.

You unplug the lamp slowly and watch the light in Peter's room go out. At least you knew he was home safe. That's all you wanted to know. Now, you could go back to crying your eyes out because your best friend was tired of being your best friend.

A lump forms in his throat as he stares at the empty window. Surely, you weren't this mad at him? Peter's mind races and he tries to think of any way he could possibly win back your friendship. He hangs his head as he realizes that only one thing could fix this. So, he pulls his mask back on and swings across the way to your apartment building.

You leaned against your headboard with your knees pulled to your chest as you cried. Why did this hurt so much? It's just Peter. There were a million boys in the world, it wasn't like he was anything special. Except, he is special...because he's Peter.

A light tap on your window pulls you out of your thoughts. You look in the direction of the window, unsure if you actually heard something. As you wait for several long seconds, two more taps sound on your window. You slowly get up, pulling your jo staff from under your bed in case it was some weirdo who had climbed the fire escape.

Clutching it in both hands, you approach the window and look out onto the fire escape. You see no one, so you get as close as you can to the glass to try and see the walls of the building. A blur of color fills your vision as something drops from above and you jump back, pointing your jo staff at the window.

The strangely dressed person holds their hands in front of them, waving them frantically. You squint your eyes, wondering if you had cried yourself to sleep and this was some bizarre dream. "Can you open the window, please?" The muffled voice asks rather politely.

"Why?"

He drops his hands to his hips as he steps back. "I need to talk to you...it's important," he pleads. You relax your grip on your staff and you get close to the window again.

"Don't try anything! I'm trained to use this thing," you threaten and the guy nods, holding his hands up innocently. Slowly, you unlock your window and slide it up so that the cold air is pouring into your room.

The guy steps closer to the window. "Thanks."

"Mhm," you respond suspiciously. "You're, uh...you're Spider-Man. From YouTube, right?" He nods as he wrings his hands in front of him. "Why are you at my window in the middle of the night?"

He scratches the mask on his head as his robotic eyes squint. "That-that's a good question. Um..." he drags out the word as he looks around. Something tugs at the back of your mind from the sound of his voice. You can't quite place it. "Listen...can I come in? It's a little cold out here," he chuckles nervously.

"You think I'm just gonna let a stranger into my apartment?" You scoff. "Tell me why you, a famous superhero from YouTube, need to talk to me, a fifteen-year-old nobody from Queens."

"Aw c'mon, y/n. You're not a nobody," he says sincerely.

You tilt your head to the side. "What did you just say?" Your throat constricts and it suddenly hits you as to why he sounds familiar.

"I said 'you're not a nobody'. I mean, you have to be somebody to be a pro at using a jo staff at fifteen," he marvels.

Stepping away from the window, you gesture inside with your staff. He cautiously crawls through the window as you point it at him again. "How did you know my name?"

"W-what?" He croaks out.

You close the window and step back toward him. "Just a minute ago, you said my name. How do you know it?" Your mouth presses into a flat line while you kneel down and put your staff back under your bed. Crossing your arms as you sit on the edge of your bed, you wait.

He hangs his head as he wanders over to sit on the floor in front of you. Inhaling a deep breath that causes his shoulders to rise and fall, he looks up at you. "The same way I know where you live...what your favorite color is...and that you have a black belt in martial arts but also a gold medal in gymnastics...that it was your birthday today..."

Silently, you get up and plug your lamp back in. You tap it so that Peter's is lit up as well before sitting down with your knees touching his. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you were stalking me, Spider-Man." A cheeky grin splits your lips and you hear him chuckle.

"No! It's not like that," he tries to explain frantically. "R-really, I-"

You reach out and grab his hand, causing his words to cease. "If I didn't know any better..." you repeat as you look at your intertwined fingers. "But, I already told you once today...I'm not that stupid."

"Wait, what?" His head whips up from looking at your hands to your face. A small giggle falls from your lips and you reach out to shove his shoulder. "Ah! What was that for?!"

"That was for missing my birthday party, Peter Benjamin Parker!!" You laugh as you playfully throw his hand in his lap. "I can't believe you kept this from me," you breathe out as you shake your head.

He rips his mask off, leaving his hair wild and all over the place. "I'm so so sorry! It's only been a few months and I feel terrible for not telling you," he rambles.

"Does Ned know?" You mumble as you play with the plush carpet of your bedroom floor.

"No," he breathes out. "You're the first person I've told." You look up to meet his eyes. For the first time since the lamp has been on, Peter is getting a good look at your face. "Y/n, have you been crying?"

Concern laces every syllable and you feel silly for having cried so much. So, you just shake your head as you wipe under your eyes to make sure they're dry. "No, I'm just tired," you lie unconvincingly.

"Was it-were you crying because of me?" Peter whispers sadly. You raise one of your shoulders casually and let it fall. "Y/n, I had no idea missing your birthday was gonna make you cry! There was a mugging with a couple of guys and I-"

You shake your head as you cut him off. "It wasn't because you missed my birthday, Peter." Looking at the ceiling you realize how paranoid you were being and you don't want to tell him what you realized tonight.

"Then, what was it?" You avoid his eyes and he reaches out to take your hand. "Y/n?"

Sighing, you finally look at him. "It's stupid...but I thou-I don't know. It just seemed like you were tired of having me as a best friend..."

"Y/n, I could never get tired of you." He squeezes your hand and the gesture causes your heart to flutter.

You breathe deeply, trying to settle the jittery feeling in your body. "So, what kind of powers do you have?" You ask excitedly.

"Well, there's a few..." he begins before looking at you mischievously. "But, there's this one where the hairs on my arm stand up...I've been calling it my Spider-Sense...”

Less than a second after, his head whips toward the window. You follow suit and are horrified by what you see. Before you can ask what it is, Peter's arm is gone from you, and he's patting Ned's face who's seated in front of you.

"I need you to create a distraction!" He repeats frantically. Ned catches on quickly as he looks out the window and sees the ring-shaped craft hovering over the New York City skyline. Immediately, he begins screaming, "We're all gonna die!" He gets up and leads everyone to the back of the bus to gawk.

Peter springs into action as he digs in his bag. You know that it's urgent. You know that you don't have time to steal with him. "Peter..." you whisper sadly. Despite trying to be strong for him, your eyes sting with coming tears. In your gut, you could feel that this mission was different. That it was going to be more dangerous.

He looks at you with concern in his eyes and also guilt that he didn't have time to comfort you. He slaps his web device on his wrist and slings his bag over his shoulder. "Hey. Shh...babe," he coos as his hands find your cheeks, and his long fingers brush the hair from around your ears. You swallow the tears as best you can and look at his loving eyes. You nod, letting him know that you'll be okay. He moves to leave, but you grip his bare wrist to stop him

 As he's halfway out of the seat, he looks at you. Your eyes search his as you say what you always say when he leaves like this, "Come back to me?" His heart almost breaks as he, too, can feel that this time is different.

"Always, babe," he says with a reassuring smile, "you're my web." The words bring a smile to your lips and you know he's not done.

"Peter Benjamin Parker," you say through clenched teeth, "if you don't stop hanging over me like that I'm gonna sabotage this modification on purpose." He was currently hanging upside down over your head from the ceiling of your bedroom while you were working on his suit.

He sighs heavily and you hear a soft thud as he lands on the floor. "Geez," he says as he opts to sit on the edge of your desk instead. "Sorry. I just can't wait to try it out!"

You inhale to calm your irritation. "You're sitting in my workspace, Peter," you warn him. Rolling his eyes, he quickly hops up and paces around your room. Your tongue peeks out from your lips as you use a pair of tweezers to insert the tiny chip where it needs to go. "And...done."

"Haha! Yes!" Peter exclaims as he immediately yanks the suit from your desk to put it on. You rub your temples while you swivel in your chair to face him.

It's been a few months since he told you he was Spider-Man and you've been helping him make modifications to his suit so it wasn't as ridiculous. Lately, he's been off the wall and so worked up about fighting crime. You were really beginning to worry about his safety.

"What'd you put in it this time?" He asks as he puts on the homemade suit.

"Tracker," you state simply.

Peter pauses to stare at you. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, I mean..." you trail off, not having the right words exactly. "That way if you need directions, you can call me and I'll help."

He contemplates your words before nodding. "Good thinking, y/n." He smiles as he goes back to putting on the suit. That smile made your heart soar and you knew there was another reason for the tracker.

"But, like, worst-case scenario..." you begin cautiously and he seems to be in his own world. "It's there just in case something bad happens and I don't hear from you for a long time," you whisper the words and your stomach sinks. What he does is really dangerous. Powers or not.

His head whirls in your direction and you realize that he was paying attention to you. "Nothing bad is gonna happen, y/n," he assures you as he walks over and squats in front of you. "Can you promise that?" You look into his warm brown eyes intensely and wait for his answer. You know he's particular about when he uses the 'p' word.

Peter sighs and lets his head hang. "No...I can't," he murmurs honestly.

"That's what I thought." You stand up and open your window before crossing your arms. "Go swing to somewhere that I don't know about so I can test the tracker," you instruct with a nod.

He grips his mask in his hand before looking at you sadly. Slipping it on his head he leaves out of the window and you hear the 'thwip' of his webs as he gets further away. You close your window and head back to your desk to clean up the mess.

After clearing all the tech into a box that you keep under your bed, you sit at your desk and open up your laptop. You type in a few things before reaching into a drawer to pull out your headset and put it on. The tiny blip on the grid you've pulled up keeps moving further and further away. You pull open your main drawer before feeling along the edges of it. Once your fingers feel the small grip, you lift up the false bottom to retrieve your notebook.

You close the drawer and open the notebook up to flip through it. When Peter told you about his secret, you decided to keep a sort of journal about everything. The notebook has everything from a list of his powers and abilities to schematics of his suit. You have the formula for how to make his web fluid and basically, everything else that Peter would need in an emergency.

After you fill out a page about the tracker you just did, you flip through the rest of the empty pages to the back. On the very last couple of pages, you have a ton of random facts about spiders. You don't know why, but you decided to research them to learn more. Your phone rings on your desk, causing you to jump.

When you look at the screen, the blip has stopped. You connect it to your headset and answer. "Go for Spider-Man," you say professionally.

"I'm at the destination," he replies simply.

You squint at the grid and roll your eyes. "I told you to go somewhere I didn't know, Spider-Man."

"I did!" He protests and you laugh.

"I know about the Empire State Building you dweeb!" You type a little bit more on your laptop and manage to get into a low-tech security camera near-by. After swiveling it around you can make out the grainy and blurry image of him high up on the building. "Stop doing flips for people!"

The image on the screen trips before catching himself. "I'm not!"

"Spider-Man, I can see you."

On the screen, he looks around confused. "How are you doing that?"

"I may have...hacked into a security camera. It's not a very good one though," you grumble.

You hear him sigh on the other end and you watch him sit down. "Y/n, you know how I feel about you breaking the law!"

"Fine! I'll get off of it!" You quickly exit out of the camera and lean back in your chair. "It's starting to get dark, you can head back now."

"Don't be like that!" He knows you all too well. "Why don't you give me a few more facts while I'm on my way?"

You perk up a little bit. It made you happy that he actually liked hearing the useless research you did on spiders. "Okay, okay," you cave easily and you hear the wind from the headset you installed in his mask. "Where did we leave off?"

"I think the last one was twenty-seven," he reminds you.

Your finger traces the page as you go to find number twenty-eight. "Okay, got it. You ready?"

"Always!" He replies with a chuckle and you hear him grunt, probably in the midst of another swing.

After reading it in your head once, you reword it. "So, cobwebs are actually webs that spiders have abandoned."

"Abandoned? I thought spiders lived in those webs," Peter muses.

You swivel your chair from side to side lazily as you answer. "Well, turns out most spiders make a new web every day. Some eat the old ones and reuse them. I guess cobwebs are the ones that don't get reused," you explain as you look over your notes.

"What did you mean when you said most spiders make a new web?" He questions.

As you sit up to lean over your notes, you search for the next fact. "Well...exactly what I said. Most spiders make a new web. But, there are a few...I think...that make webs that last several years. I know at least one does and that's the banana spider," you inform him.

"Woah. Really? Are those the ones th-" A loud crashing sound cuts off Peter's words.

You press your headset closer to your ears as if it would help you hear him but all you can make out is sirens weirdly crackling. "Spider-Man! What just happened??"

No words come from the other end and you look at the blip on the screen to see it moving in a circle around a building. Your fingers quickly tap the keys as you try to find a camera close by that you could hack. Surprisingly, you manage to weasel your way into one from a bank nearby.

For the life of you, you couldn't figure out why you could hear the commotion but not Peter. If his comm was working then he should be able to hear you and respond. You control the camera to figure out what's happening and your heart sinks into your stomach. There's a building on fire.

You're about to search the scene for Peter when your mom comes into your room without knocking. You slam the laptop closed. "Mom! Could you knock??"

"Sweetheart, you have to come look at this on the news." She immediately exits your room and your furrow your brows as you follow her.

As you round into the living room you begin to question her, "What's so urgent-" Your voice gets caught in your throat and you see the building engulfed in flames. "Oh my god...do they know what happened?"

"They're saying it was some kind of gas leak..." your mom whispers in horror while you rest your hands on the back of the couch. "I'm surprised you didn't hear it happen from your room."

Your throat goes dry. "What do you mean?"

"Honey." she turns around to look at you. "That's an apartment building a few blocks down from us."

Without another word you turn and run to your room. You rush over to your window and slide it up harshly, shaking the glass. Crawling out onto the fire escape, you lean against the rail and look around. Fire trucks speed past on the street below and your eyes follow them.

You look on in that direction and see the billowing smoke coming from the building. You hear your mom's voice yell from the living room, "Hey, that Spider-Guy from YouTube is there!! He's getting people out-"

Her words disappear from earshot as you scramble to climb down the seven flights of the fire escape. The metal is slick from slight drizzling rain and you didn't stop to put on shoes so your socks are sliding everywhere. Your feet finally hit the ground with a splash and you almost trip before taking off at a sprint.

Your heart thunders in your chest and the heavy trickle of guilt sweeps into your veins because you didn't realize that the comm had been knocked out. You were literally hearing the commotion from your window and not your headset. The closer you get, the more the air darkens and is thick with smoke.

A crowd as gathered on the other side of police barriers at a safe distance from the building. Some people filming the whole ordeal. Your throat burns from the rapid breaths you were taking and you slow to a stop amongst them.

"Has anyone seen Spider-Man?" You ask casually.

A guy beside you turns his head slightly as he answers. "He just went in again a couple of minutes ago. I think there's a family trapped on the fifth floor."

You slowly creep along the police barrier to a section where no one is standing. It hurts to breathe as you stare up at the building for any sign that he was okay. A commotion grabs your attention and people begin cheering as Spider-Man emerges through the front door with a little girl.

He hands her over to a nearby EMT. You watch with relief before you hear a fireman speak quietly to his partner near you. "We need to get these people further back. I think there's gonna be a second blow." The other one nods and heads over to the other end of the barrier to scoot them back.

"Polly is still up there!!" You hear a little girl cry as they try to take her to the ambulance. "Mr. Spider-Man my puppy is still in my room!" She cries.

You shake your head as you see Peter look between the little girl and the quickly deteriorating building. "No," you whisper to yourself. "Don't you dare do it."

Peter's head suddenly turns in your direction and you forgot that he can hear really well. You can see the tension he holds in his body as the fireman returns to move your barrier back. "We have to move these back more for the safety of the public, ma'am," he explains.

"Yeah," you breathe out as you let him move it back. While you're scooting back with the barrier you glance up and see Peter running back into the building. "SPIDER-MAN, NO!!" You scream and try to lurch over the barrier before the fireman stops you. "He just went in there!!"

The fireman looks back at the building and you back away from the barrier, shaking your head. It feels like hours pass as you wait, hand cupped over your mouth while you cry. A deafening boom sounds, accompanied by glass spraying all over the streets below the building. Everyone crouches as they shield their head with their arms.

Your clothes are soaked as the drizzle has picked up to a heavy rain. Water drips down your cheeks, and it could be rain, it could be your tears. You wander down the street a little bit, away from the building. Your hands run through your hair to get it out of your face as you sit on a curb near an alley.

"Polly!!" You lift your head up quickly to see a dog trotting toward the little girl. Looking around, you see no sign of Peter anywhere. You release staggered breaths as you stand up, ready to go tell May what happened.

The sound of a trashcan knocking over draws your attention to the alley behind you. "Psst." You quickly jog down the alley toward the noise. As you pass the dumpster, you hear a 'thwip' sound and you're tugged by your wrist behind it.

"Peter, oh my god!" You almost scream as you throw your weight into him, your arms hugging him around his abdomen tightly. His arms circle around your shoulders, pulling you to him almost too strongly. Your ear presses against his chest, allowing you to hear how rapidly his heart is beating.

Peter tangles his fingers in your wet hair repeatedly. "Y/n, what are you doing here?" You untangle yourself from him and slam both of your palms into his shoulders. "Ow!! What was that for?!"

"For making me think you died!!" You yell. "What the hell was that?" You gesture vaguely in the direction of the building.

He looks around quickly before removing his mask. His curls are instantly drenched in water, plastering them to his head. "There was a dog still in there! I couldn't let her die!"

"Peter, you could have died!" Your voice cracks and his face instantly crumbles. He pulls you into another hug by your waist and rubs up and down your back soothingly.

"I didn't, though," he says slowly. "I promise you, y/n. I promise I will always come back to you."

You pull back to meet his gaze. "You what?"

"I realized something when I saw you before I went back in the last time y/n." His grip tightens slightly and you realize that he's shaking. "You're my best friend, and you're my web. I don't mean like a cobweb either because I will never abandon you. I mean like the web of a banana spider that lasts for years and years-"

A giggle bubbles up in your throat as you listen to his rambling. "Peter Parker, what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about this." Peter suddenly leans down and plants his lips on your softly, causing you to let out a surprise hum. You circle your arms around his shoulders and one of your hands tangles in his hair as he deepens the kiss. His lips slant against yours perfectly and you're certain you forget to inhale because your lungs are burning.

Just when it feels like you're about to pass out from being so light-headed, Peter slowly leans back. "Peter-"

"You're my web, y/n." He rests his forehead on yours. "And I promise I will always come back to you...for years and years." His eyes search yours and you don't really believe what's happening. Inside, he begins to panic because you've been quiet for so long.

"Kiss me again, Spider-Man."

"Will you leave the light on?" he asks, a twinge of sadness in his voice even though he knows the answer.

You don't hesitate as you reply, "Of course."

He cocks his head to the side with a cheeky yet solemn grin. "Forever?"

You nod with a similar smile as you assure him, "And a day..."

He reaches one hand out to pull your face to his. You meet him halfway and your lips connect hastily with his soft ones. A million things run through your mind. Memories and little moments with him you adored. When he pulls away, you immediately feel cold. Maybe not cold per se. But, an absence of warmth. An absence of him. One last look between you and he's out the emergency window.

The rest of the day was awful. You walked around with knots in your stomach. You couldn't eat even though you were desperately hungry. The fear of throwing up overruled the hunger. Eventually, you made your way home to the apartment building across from Peter's.

The ring had disappeared from the atmosphere about 20 minutes after Peter left you on the bus. You'd expected to have heard from him by now. Your anxiety was skyrocketing. You half-expected him to be in your room when you got home, hung from the ceiling to surprise you. Of course, he wasn't. You were disappointed even though you knew the chance was minuscule.

After unpacking your school bag, you slump down on your bed. You look at the ceiling and see dirty footprints. The corner of your lips turn up sadly as you think about the boy you were completely gone for. You take a deep breath and rise from the bed to cross the room to your window. Looking outside, you could tell that it was a few hours from being dark. To give yourself some sort of comfort, you take the box sitting in the windowsill and toggle it on.

"Peter Benjamin Parker!!" You giggle from the floor after he had gently tripped you. "That's cheating and you know it! I demand a rematch," you say as you get up and dust yourself off.

Peter scoffs and it turns into a laugh. "Wha-" He looks around the room for support and finds none. "How is it my fault that you're uncoordinated?" He teases you.

"I'm a gold medal gymnast...I think I'm plenty coordinated," you challenge as you saunter toward him until you're nose to nose. "Just not when people stick their feet in between my ankles!"

He rolls his eyes and turns around to walk away, but you quickly jump onto his back. "Woah, woah, woah! This has got to be a party foul!" He chuckles as he swings around in a circle.

You both fall into a fit of laughter as he plops onto the couch, essentially squishing you. Ned and MJ take their turn at the Just Dance game while you nuzzle your nose into Peter's neck. Your arms wrap around his abdomen to hug him from behind and he places his hands over yours.

"Thank you for being here," you murmur so only he can hear you before placing a quick kiss on his jaw. "I know that you had to skip the Internship to make it and I know it's important, so thank you."

He turns his head and you lean back so he can see you. "It's not a big deal," he whispers back and your features soften. "I promised I'd make it this time and I've never broken a promise to you so..."

You can't help but smile as he brushes his nose against yours. He leans forward and his lips ghost over yours before pressing against them softly. "I love you," you whisper against his lips.

"And I love you," he replies before kissing you again. The kiss breaks as a pillow comes down over your heads.

"Can you two stop making out for five seconds?" Ned laughs and walks around the couch to the kitchen. "It's time for presents."

Peter stands up and turns around, offering his hands to help you up. "C'mon, Ned," he whines.

Once you're standing, he wraps his arms around your waist from behind. This causes the two of you to waddle like penguins to the kitchen and you sit down at the head of the table. Peter rests his hands on the chair behind you.

You go through and open everyone's gifts, thanking them as you went along. Discarded wrapping paper and gift bags litter the floor. "Where's Peter's gift?" MJ questions.

"Oh, we agreed that since my birthday is so close to Valentine's day we'd just count that gift for both," you explain with a smile as Peter gently squeezes your shoulders.

An hour or so later, the party ends and your friends go home. You and Peter help your mom clean up before heading to your room. "Remember it's a school night! Peter has to go home at some point," your mom calls before closing her bedroom door.

You laugh as you sit on the edge of your bed and lay back. Peter wanders in, leaving the door open behind him. It was adorable how respectful he was when it came to being in your room now. When he used to come over before you were dating, you would close the door and he'd spend the night without asking. Now, he leaves the door open without your mom even asking him to because that's how May raised him.

It was funny because the two of you had already had sex a couple of times. But, he still respected the unspoken rules as if you hadn't. He lays down next to you and the two of you stare at your ceiling.

"Peter, you need to stop crawling on my ceiling," you chuckle. "I mean, how the hell am I supposed to clean up there?" You gesture your hand toward the dirty footprints creating patterns on your ceiling.

He laughs and the sound warms you from head to toe. "I'm sorry. I'll wipe my feet on the welcome mat next time," he retorts sarcastically.

"Ha, ha." You reach down and interlace your fingers with his between you two. Squeezing his hand, you sit up. "You can go if you want. I bet you could get in a few hours of patrolling and still get enough sleep for school," you suggest.

Peter sits up next to you and bumps your shoulder with his. "I've got something for you first." He grins mischievously and goes out onto your fire escape to retrieve something.

"I thought we said one present was enough!" You remind him. When you suggested it, you had really done so because you knew that he couldn't afford to do so many present so close together. And he had already gotten you the most wonderful Christmas gift. You really didn't need anything else.

He appears back through your window and closes it. You see the carefully wrapped box in his hand as he approaches. "Y/n, I know you made that rule because of the money," he sighs and sits next to you.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel like-" Shaking his head, he kisses your cheek. "You don't need to apologize. I love that you want to make it easier on me and May." He holds up the box to you. "Which is why this is made and not bought."

You take it from him slowly. After setting it in your lap, you gently remove the lid with the bow and peer inside. Your eyebrows quirk together and you glance at Peter before reaching in.

It takes both hands to lift it up because the cube is the width of both of your palms next to each other. You expected it to be heavy because it looks like it's made of metal, but it's surprisingly light. Two opposite sides of the cube are a shiny black. While the other four sides alternate between red and blue, the color of his suit.

"Peter, what is this?" You chuckle nervously. As you examine it, you notice a small toggle switch on one of the black sides. You reach out and nudge it to the other side.

Suddenly, a bright red light shines out of the other black side. You quickly hold the box at a distance as you close your eyes, not wanting to be blinded. When you open them again, you follow where the light is shining to the ceiling. You're amazed by what you see.

"Oh my gosh..." you marvel at the high-tech Spider-Man beacon displayed across your ceiling. It's the same one that Peter can display from his new suit from Mr. Stark. "How did you make this?"

He takes it from you and walks over to your window. "Well...Mr. Stark helped me, actually," he admits as he sets the box on its side and the beacon shines on the wall across from your window. "I made it 'cause I know your mom got tired of our lamps running up your electric bill."

"Won't this do the same thing?" You ask as you cross the room to him.

Peter pulls you into him by your waist and rests his hands on the small of your back. "No, it won't...because this doesn't plug into anything." He reaches down and toggles it off before replacing his hand on your back.

"What if it runs out of batteries?"

"It doesn't run on batteries," he explains. "The sides double as solar panels. So you just leave it here all the time and it'll always be charged." He grins at you and you slide your hands up to rest on the back of his neck.

You lean toward him and his lips meet yours halfway as you pull him down to you gently. His lips slant against yours slowly, and carefully as if he wanted to make the moment last. "This is perfect! Now I can leave the light on for you every time you're out on a mission!" You whisper after you pull away for a breath.

"Do patrols count as missions?" He questions and rubs his nose against yours. You scrunch your lips to one side as you think. Looking back into his eyes, you nod with a small hum. "Babe," Peter chuckles, "you'll literally have that thing on all the time."

"So." You shrug and the two of you have started to sway a bit. "I'd leave it on forever if it meant you knowing that I'd wait for you."

His grip on you tightens as he pulls you further into his embrace. The warmth he radiates seeps into your skin. "Oh, you'd leave it on forever?" He asks skeptically.

"Yeah," you assure him. "And a day," you add quickly.

One of his hands leaves your back to cup your jaw. "Why the extra day?" He chuckles.

"'Cause." You pull your bottom lip between your teeth for a second. "It'll give me a whole day to make sure that you're back for real and for good. Ya know, an extra day past forever is just for good measure."

"That's smart," he mumbles as he brings his lips closer to yours. "You're the smartest person I've ever met, y/n."

You smile against his lips. "You clearly haven't met yourself, Peter."

"No," he laughs before kissing your cheek. "It's not just book smart. You're, like, everything smart. And you're strong...and talented...and beautiful..." In between each thing, Peter places a kiss on your forehead, your other cheek, and even your neck. But, they're soft kisses. Not like he wants anything to happen. "I love you so much."

Your lips find his again and they glide across them lovingly. "I love you just as much, Peter Parker." You let your lips sink into his for a few minutes more before he leaves to patrol the neighborhood. Your fingers trace your lips as the taste of him lingers. Reaching down, you toggle on your new beacon box before getting ready for bed.

Meticulously, you position it so that the Spider-Man beacon shines clearly on the opposite wall from your window. It didn't do much for comfort as you still had the awful feeling of a pit in your stomach. So, you distracted yourself with homework.

You spent hours and hours doing homework even though your mind was elsewhere. You were pretty sure that you weren't learning anything and that all your answers were wrong but you continued. Well into the night you tried to focus on something, anything other than the fact that the boy you loved had gone up into space in some floating alien craft.

When you ran out of homework, you forced yourself to go to the kitchen and eat. It was hard considering you didn't have an appetite. Sure, you hadn't eaten anything since breakfast but with every bite, you felt more nauseous. But, you were determined to put something in your stomach to give you the strength and energy to wait up for Peter. He will come back.

At some time after one a.m., you sat on the edge of your bed waiting. Just staring at the light shining from the beacon box that Peter made you. You can't sleep well unless it's completely dark. But, sleep was less important than Peter knowing that you were waiting. So, you picked up your phone and dialed Ned.

After anxiously waiting through several rings, you were sure he wouldn't pick up because he was asleep. Like a normal person. Then, he did. "Y/n? Is everything okay? Have you heard from Peter?" His groggy voice became more clear with every question and your heart sunk.

"No...I, uh," you stutter as you tried to choke down the sob that wanted to emerge from your throat. "I was hoping that maybe you had," you whimper.

You hear a deep sigh on the other line. "I'm sorry, y/n. He always goes to you first...I just figured..." he lets his sentence trail off and you finally feel tears leaving warm trails on your cheeks.

"Tell me he's gonna come back, Ned. Please, tell me that," you beg as you release a staggered breath.

"I know that he's gonna do his best. He would never leave you on purpose," he answers. You nod as you roll your lips together, tasting your tears. Ned would never lie to you and so he gave you the best response that he could while still being truthful. But, that just lets you know that even he believes that Peter might not come back this time.

You stay on the phone with Ned until you hear his snores through the line. Your body begged you to sleep, but your heart was too heavy to comply. Every minute was like an eternity as you laid in the dark with only the red hue of the Spider-Man beacon on your wall to focus on. Your eyelids drooped slightly and maybe you drifted off to sleep for a few minutes. Or a couple of hours. It didn't matter how much sleep you got because when you woke, it felt as though you'd been awake for weeks.

The day went on as it usually did. Except it didn't. Peter didn't meet you on the sidewalk outside of your building to walk to the subway together. He wasn't leaning against your locker in between every class, just waiting for you so he could kiss your cheek. Peter wasn't there to hand you an extra pencil when yours broke from pressing it to the paper so hard because you were anxious. His spot next to you at the lunch table was empty, and he wasn't there to tease you about the way you separate your food before eating it. You and Ned sat in silence without Peter there to hatch mischievous plans with.

You were cold. All day you were cold because you weren't used to not having his body next to yours wherever you go. Your hands lived in your pockets because you didn't have his hands to hold. The sweater you had stolen from him was the only comfort you had because it smelled like him. But, it wasn't him.

After school, you went over to his apartment and knocked on the door. It opened quickly and May's face dropped from hope to sadness. One look at you and she opened her arms. You fell into them as your face crumpled with your guilt. Garbled apologies fell from your lips and you tried to take the blame for letting him go, but May was having none of that. The two of you collapsed to your knees in the doorway as she rocked you and sobs escaped your throat.

Once you finally cried yourself out, you asked if you could just sit in Peter's room until he got back. She nodded solemnly and said she'd make some cookies for you to snack on. You smiled slightly, wondering if she'd have to go out and buy some or if she's getting any better at cooking.

You softly push open the door to his room and the tears come quickly again as you look around. It's in complete disarray, just as he left it yesterday morning. His bed is unmade, and clothes are strewn around his hamper as if he tossed them close to but not quite in it. Open books and crumpled papers lay on his desk along with stray pencils everywhere. Your fingertips trace the wooden frame around a picture of the two of you at homecoming on his bedside table. Your foreheads were pressed together as you both smiled contently, eyes closed, and arms wrapped around each other as if you didn't want to let go.

Your legs fold and you sink to the floor in the center of his room. You lie back and let your eyes wander along the ceiling as you follow the dirty footprints. As your head falls to the side, you notice all the extra pillows and sheets shoved under his bed. You pull them out and a soft grin forms on your lips. Of course, he would stockpile pillows and sheets. He remembers everything you say and does his best to make sure you know it.

"Peter Benjamin Parker!!" You squeal as the cold from the snow he just pelted you with seeps through some of your layers. He laughs loudly and almost slips as he turns to run the other way. "Oh no, you don't!" You threaten as you quickly lean down and scoop up a handful of snow.

Chasing after him, you tried to aim at him. But, you were at a disadvantage because you could tell he was using his powers to evade you. With a groan of frustration, you stand in place and drop the snow. He stops and turns around to look at you. "You're not even gonna try and get me back?"

"I would, but it's kind of useless when you're cheating," you pout as you cross your arms. Peter jogs back to stand in front of you. Placing his hands on your hips, he pulls you in for a kiss. You turn your head so that his lips meet your cheek. "No kisses for cheaters."

He pulls back with a surprised scoff. "But, babe," he whines playfully. You stick your nose up in the air, refusing to look at him. "I'm sorry...I won't cheat next time," he mumbles as he leans forward and brushes his lips across your exposed neck.

"That's cheating..." you whisper breathlessly as a shiver runs through you.

Peter tilts his head and places another kiss just below your ear. "I don't know what you mean." You roll your eyes because you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. He works his lips up to your jaw and you groan. "Forgive me yet?"

Reluctantly, you uncross your arms and grip his sweater-covered biceps. "Maybe a little bit." You take your bottom lip between your teeth as he lifts his head up to gaze at you.

"I can work with that," he chuckles as he leans in for a kiss. Just as your lips are about to touch, you shove with all your might. Peter is taken surprise as he loses his balance and falls backward into a snowbank.

You laugh loudly as he flails trying to get up. "And now I got you back!" He finally manages to sit up and grins ruefully at you.

"Oh, that was cold. Literally." He brushes the snow off of himself as he stands up.

Your shoulders shrug lazily. "I had to distract you so your Spider-Sense wouldn't give me away," you inform him.

"You're sneaky." He nods before lurching forward and wrapping his arms around you. You squeal as he picks you up and spins you around. The two of you fall into laughter as he sets you down. "Let's get you home," he says while rubbing up and down your arms to generate heat. You beam up at him and sling your arm around his waist as you head home.

Soon, the two of you are in your living room floor surrounded by wrapping paper as your mom takes pictures. You clasp your hands in front of your lips as you wait in anticipation for Peter to open up his last gift from you.

"What on earth is this, y/n?" He chuckles as he tries to tear away your expertly wrapped paper and tape.

You pull up your shoulders and don't say anything as he finally gets down to the box. The grin on your lips is so big that your cheeks are starting to hurt. "Merry Christmas!!" You say excitedly.

"Wha-" he breathes out as he pulls it out of the box. "Y/n, this is amazing. I...How did you afford this?" He marvels before slipping the strap over his head to rest on his neck.

"It wasn't expensive," you tell him as you nibble on your lip.

Peter holds it up to his face and aims it at you. "There's no way this wasn't expensive! It's a really nice camera," he mumbles softly.

"I promise it wasn't. It was at a flea market and I fixed it up." You look up from your lap and a flash blinds you. "Wow! That's bright." You blink several times to get your vision back.

He lowers the camera and reaches out one hand to rest on the back of your neck. "Thank you so much! I love....it." His lips pull into a grin before you're pulled to him and he kisses you sweetly. "I should go so May doesn't send out a search party."

"She wouldn't have to send them far," you tease and the two of you stand up. You walk him to the door out of your mom's earshot.

Peter turns and kisses your cheek before whispering in your ear. "I actually have a couple more presents for you, but I have to go set them up in my room. I'll let you know when they're ready." He places a soft peck to your lips and you watch with curious eyes as he leaves.

Sometime after you've helped clean up and take all your presents to your room, you're laying on your bed. As you wait for Peter to text you, your body fills with butterflies while thinking of him. You were excited for this surprise but also a little bit nervous because you had no idea what it would be.

Just then, your phone chimes from its place on your desk. You hop up quickly and open up the message from Peter. It reads:

PBP: Everything is all set up! Come in through the window ❤️

You scoffed out loud as you went to your window and saw him standing there waiting for you. Quickly typing out a response, you hit send and wait for him to get it.

You: You expect me to climb 7 flights of a fire escape and crawl through your window in late December?

Peter's shoulders shake as he snickers at your message. You watch as he types again and then looks up at you. Your phone chimes in your hand.

PBP: Just use one of the old web-shooters and swing over here!

Rolling your eyes, you go to the locked box under your bed to retrieve one of them. Peter had been teaching you how to use them for fun, but mostly lower to the ground. Closing your window behind you, you secure it on your dominant wrist.

He's opened his window and is leaning out of it waiting for you. "I'm not sure I can do this!" You call across the open space to him.

"You'll do great! Just get over here!" He chuckles back so you can hear. Upon seeing your panic, he continues, "I'll catch you! I promise!"

Just like that, your nerves were gone. When Peter uses the 'p' word, you know he's serious. And you trust him with everything you have in you. So if he says he'll catch you, he will. You carefully climb over the railing of the fire escape and lean your back against it as you look at Peter.

He nods encouragingly. With a shaking hand, you aim the web-shooter at the top ledge of the building so you should swing right to his window. You take a deep breath and jump. As soon as you feel gravity pulling at you, you bring your fingers down on the shooter. You hear the familiar 'thwip' of the web as it latches onto its exact target.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you feel the wind whipping through your hair as you swing over the gap. Just as quickly as you jumped, a pair of firm hands was catching you and maneuvering your legs into the window. You open your eyes and wait until you're firmly planted on his floor to release the web.

"That...was...crazy!!" You whisper-yell as you jump up and down excitedly. As Peter closes the window, you turn and see what he's been working on. Your mouth falls open in awe. "Peter..."

He gently takes your hand and pulls you to your knees with him. "Merry Christmas!" He laughs at your shocked expression as you continue to marvel at it. Sheets hang from precarious positions and colorful spots of light filter through them.

"You made me a pillow fort???" You quickly crawl into the center and find some pillows stacked for the two of you to lay on. He follows closely behind you and pulls his laptop out from under a pillow.

He nods as you lay back to stare at the lights. "Do you like it? We didn't have just white Christmas lights so I had to use the color-"

"Babe, it's perfect," you interrupt as you reach out and squeeze his hand. "Well...you couldn't go wrong with a few more pillows and sheets. Just to make it seem like we're in our own world."

"I'm always in my own world when I'm with you," he murmurs as he lays down next to you, shoulder to shoulder. You turn your head and give him a lingering kiss on the cheek.

Cuddling into his side, you wrap an arm over his abdomen. "What movie are we watching?"

"Whatever you want, babe." He wraps his arm around your shoulder and kisses the top of your head.

You prop yourself up onto your elbow and look down at him. "What if I said I didn't want to watch a movie?"

"Well," he drags the word out as he repositions his head to look at you. "I would have to ask what you'd rather do." His hand reaches out to brush the hair from your face and caress your cheek.

Your pulse begins to quicken as you look down at him. He looks so soft and sweet, illuminated by the colorful lights he worked so hard to string up. Quietly, you lean down as your lips are drawn to his. Your lips move against his slowly, but earnestly. After a few moments of the warmth building up in you, you pull away.

"I think I'd rather keep doing that," you whisper breathlessly as you look between his eyes and his lips. He looks at you a little bit confused and you continue. "And maybe a little bit more..."

Peter visibly gulps. "R-really?" You nod shyly, pink creeping onto your cheeks. His eyes flicker up and down the length of your body before meeting your eyes again. One corner of his lips tugs upward into the most insanely adorable smile.

Slowly, he lets both of his hands roam up and down your sides before pulling you back down onto him by your hips. You grin as your lips connect with his and the two of you get lost in each other.

A little bit later, you're curled into Peter's side with the covers pulled up to your chin. He has his arm around you and he's lazily playing with your hair. Your fingers are tracing soft trails along the lines of his surprisingly toned ab muscles.

You swallow thickly before breaking the silence. "Was it-was I any good?" A nervous chuckle falls escapes your throat.

"What??" Peter laughs loudly and you're surprised by his reaction. "Were you any good?? Y/n! That was like the most incredible thing I've ever experienced in my life and I've jumped off of the Empire State Building!"

You laughed and the anxiety slowly faded from your body. "You are the most dramatic person I've ever met in my life, Peter Parker," you giggle. He may have been telling the truth about it being good, but he always had a knack for exaggerating things. You nuzzle back into his chest as your giggles died down. "I love you," you sigh.

"Y-you what?" He says suddenly serious.

Every muscle in your body freezes. You didn't realize what you had said until he asked. "Um.." you slowly sat up, holding the blanket over your chest.

"Wait, wait," Peter says quickly before sitting up and feeling around under the covers and pillows for something. "Okay...here," he says as a flourish of his hands reveals a small box.

You reach out and take it from him with slightly nervous fingers. As you open the box, the slightly irrational part of you hopes this isn't a ring. Your hopes a granted and you release a relieved breath as you see a necklace.

"This is beautiful," you murmur as you take it out the get a better look. It's a silver chain, and on it hangs the frame of a silver heart. But inside the frame of the heart, you swear it looks like... "Is this your web fluid?" You question and look up at him.

He grins from ear to ear as he nods. "Yeah, it sure is." Peter reaches out and takes the necklace from you. Carefully, he unclasps it and places it around your neck before re-clasping it under your hair.

"But, won't it dissolve in a few hours?" You pick the heart up in your fingers and look at it some more.

"No. I, uh..." he clears his throat weirdly. "I made a special one that'll last." You smile happily as you let it rest back on your sternum. "It's special, ya know?"

You cock your head to one side. "Is that so?"

"Mhm." He nods and scoots closer to you. "See, as long as you're wearing this...you'll always know if I'm okay or not."

Rolling your lips together, you lean forward and connect your lips with his briefly. "Then, I will never take it off," you promise. Peter leans forward and kisses you softly.

"I love you, y/n," he whispers as he rests his forehead against yours. You bite your lip to contain your excited giggles. He looks deep into your eyes seriously. "I think I always have." Then, he reconnects his lips with yours to kiss you much more urgently than he ever has as the two of you fall back onto the pillows.

By the time you've finished making a fort out of the sheets and pillows, May has finished with the cookies. She knocks on the door and lets it swing open. You poke your head out and look up at her. "I hope you don't mind..."

"Of course not, sweetie," she smiles warmly down at you. "Got any more room in there?" She chuckles slightly. You nod, holding the sheet open so she can carefully crawl inside with the plate of cookies.

You take one and sit back against the pile of pillows as you take a bite. "Mm," you hum, swallowing the chewy bite. "You're getting good at these."

She kisses your head gently and the two of you snack on the cookies in content silence. For the first time since yesterday, your stomach isn't in knots, and your heart doesn't feel heavy. It's almost like a regular day and Peter is gonna come home at any minute and join the two of you.

"Can I...can I stay in here tonight?" You whisper after a few minutes of silence and realizing that it's not a regular day.

Your eyes are trained on your lap and May squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. "You can stay as long as you want." After a while of sitting together, she leaves you alone in Peter's room.

While making the fort, you had positioned the sheets so you could still see out the window. You could see perfectly into your room across the street, and the beacon still shines brightly on your wall. Your fingers grip the cold silver of your necklace as you breathe deeply. Peter will come back.

Peter always comes back. With some sort of semblance of comfort, you're able to fall asleep much more easily than last night. When someone wakes you up, your eyelids are so heavy that you have to pry them open and wipe the sleep from your eyes. You sit up in the floor of the fort and look around.

"Peter?" Your voice is sleepy but it cracks with hope. As your eyes focus, you find May kneeling next to you. "Oh..." You finally remember that Peter is missing. Not missing. Gone. Gone up into space.

She tilts her head slightly as she rubs soothing circles on your back. "You okay, sweetie?" You furrow your eyebrows and tuck your hair behind your ears.

"Fine, I guess...why?" You eyes bare into hers, worried that something happened while you were out

 "Well, you were crying," she informs you. Your hand goes to your cheeks and you feel the wet residue from tears.

You wipe your eyes and clear your throat. "I guess I'm just tired." Your fingertips instinctively go to your necklace. An uneasy feeling takes place in your stomach as you trace the silver frame of a heart. "No..."

"What's wrong?" May asks as she watches you unclasp the necklace and hold it up to the light.

The web that once made up the inside of the heart has dissolved or disappeared. You didn't know which, but you knew it was gone. Frantically, you search the sheets around you. But, you can't find any evidence of the small section of web anywhere.

"No," you croak out as your face contorts in pain and tears flow freely down your cheeks. May pulls you into her, unsure of what's happening. Sobs wrack your body because you know what this means. "Peter...he-"

Peter said that as long as you wore the necklace, you'd know if he was okay. You don't know how he did it, but you know this means something bad. You know this means that he's gone. You know it means he's not coming back.

May holds onto you tightly, finally understanding what was happening. She begins to cry too. You hold each other as the streets outside bring the noise of honking horns and cars crashing. Something bad happened. Maybe not just to Peter.

Suddenly, an ear-splitting whine sounds from across the street. You jolt out of May's arms and to the window. As you look around the city below, you see the chaos happening. Your head swivels toward the source of the whine and it's your room. The Spider-Man beacon flashes rapidly on your bedroom wall as if it's a ticking bomb.

Without a word, you sprint out of Peter's room and down the stairs of the building. You tear out onto the street and narrowly avoid a speeding car as your feet carry you to your building and up to your room. As you burst through your front door, you see your mom standing oddly still in the kitchen.

"Mom?" You cautiously approach her.

She turns slowly and her features are etched in worry. You reach out to her and just before your fingers brush her hand, it crumples into ash. Your mouth falls open in shock as the rest of her crumbles away into ash and the ash is blown away by some invisible wind. A guttural scream escapes your throat and you fall to your knees.

What the hell is happening? The whine suddenly starts up again and you clutch your ears at the frequency. Swallowing your tears you barely manage to scramble to your feet and stumble into your room. It's louder than anywhere else as you approach it, frantically looking for how to make it stop.

You pick it up in both of your hands and collapse to your knees as you turn it over and over. "Goddamn it!!" You cry as you bang your palms against the side of it repeatedly. Frustrated, you raise it up and throw it at the floor.

It bounces to the center of the room with the beacon now displayed across your ceiling, and you hear something click. The whine stops and is replaced by a beeping sound. Your bottom lip quivers as you crawl across the floor and to the other side of the box. A panel has opened up, with an indentation inside of it.

Your fingers trace the shape and your heart constricts when you realize what goes there. With shaking fingers, you reach up and unclasp your necklace, letting the heart slide off of the chain. Your throat tightens as you press the heart pendant into the empty indentation in the box.

At first, nothing happens. You wipe your nose with the back of your hand as you wait. You're about to get up and leave when the box starts whirring. The Spider-Man beacon goes dark and the box begins clicking meticulously. Panels on the top open up as it expands, a small projector rising up from the middle.

You fall back into a sitting position as a 3D projection materializes above the box. It looks like a person, but one you've never seen before. You peer closer when suddenly, their eyes open.

"Hello." You jump back in surprise, almost falling completely onto your back. "My name is KAREN. In the event of a disaster, I have been programmed to display a message from Peter Parker for y/n y/l/n. Voice identification required."

She blinks, seemingly waiting for something. Your mouth opens and closes several times. In the event of a disaster... You're not sure you want to open whatever message this is because if you do...then that makes it real.

"Voice identification required," she repeats robotically. You blink as your breathing becomes shallow. With a trembling hand, you reach out and remove the heart from the open panel. KAREN immediately disappears as the box returns to normal and the Spider-Man beacon displays across your ceiling once again. You scrunch your eyes tight to try to contain the tears and you hold the heart firmly to your chest. Peter isn't gone. He's going to come back to you. He promised you that he'd always come back to you.

~10 minutes earlier on Titan~

Peter stands around on the deserted planet with Tony, the wizard, and the supposed Guardians of the Galaxy. Thanos has the Time Stone and he's just gone to Earth to get the Mind Stone.

One by one, the Guardians start disintegrating. Peter feels the trickle of something bad go through his veins. His Spider-Sense has kicked into high alert as the wizard disappears next. Immediately, the rest of Peter feels wrong.

"Mr. Stark," he chokes out. He can feel it happening to him too. Everything in him is fighting what's happening. He can't go like this. He has to stay. Tony catches Peter as he collapses, no longer being able to stand. Peter cries as Tony lowers him to the ground. He just keeps repeating, "I don't wanna go..."

Most of Peter has turned to ash by now but somehow, he's still able to speak his last words. He looks at Tony with a look in his eyes that Tony never wanted to see. Guilt floods what's left of his heart and agony that he'll never see y/n again. "I'm sorry..." he whispers before his face falls blank and his remains blow away in a phantom wind.

As long as he's alive, Tony will think that Peter was apologizing to him. For stowing away on the spaceship, or for having his death be put on Tony's conscience. For being the reason that Tony loses another important person in his life. But, he wasn't. That apology was meant for one person who was planets away.

Peter didn't know if you would be gone in the snap too, but he didn't care. Even though you wouldn't be able to hear him say he's sorry in this moment, he needed to say it. He made sure to have contingencies in place months ago so that you'd still get to hear him say goodbye. So, he was sorry. He was sorry because that was the first and last time in his entire life that he broke a promise he made to you.

[my-decade]

Which transformation suits which winx girl the best? ♡

Including World of Winx as well. I’ll list each transformation, and pick who I think had the best overall design and why. Let me know your thoughts!

1. Magic winx + charmix

So these two are the very first and I guess “base” of the fairy forms, and since charmix is really an add-on to magix winx, I’ll do them together.

Magic winx: Flora. As a child, Flora’s was always my favorite. The sort of bodice part of the dress always reminded me of sleeping beauty. The skirt’s shape also reminded me of a petal. It’s a lovely design and I think it matches her personality really well. (Note that Tecna would’ve gotten this category if it weren’t for the strange cone shaped hood.)

Charmix: Tecna. It’s hard to pick with this because charmix is really just a brooch and a bag, lol. But I appreciate that Tecna’s looks more like a radio/transmitter type of thing then just a bag hanging off her, which makes it more personal to her powers. Musa’s was a close second. Bloom’s was last for sure- a furry pink heart for the fairy of a dragon flame??? I don’t get that.

2. Enchantix:

Stella. They all look amazing so it’s hard to pick one, but I love the changes in Stella’s design. The lightened hair, different bangs, and color scheme (orange, blue, pink) suits her really well and truly gave me the look of a final fairy form. I also appreciate that they actually kept the blue in this color scheme because later on we’ll see it basically disappear and it’s sad, because blue+orange was really her colors from day one. Just look at the staff of solaria and her headband in her first form. 

3. Believix:

Tecna. Tecna’s believix suits her and reminds me of her magix winx form, and her wings are beautiful without becoming tacky. They managed to include green in it with the lavender without overdoing it, and so she manages to still look like a fairy while the others just look like they’re wearing street clothes with wings. I get that the look was civilian clothing because of how Believix is earned, but a lot of these designs just seem a little random. 

4. Sophix

Bloom. Overall, Bloom’s sophix is the most put together, and aesthetically the nicest one to see. One downside I always have is that transformations that are based on an element (water, earth, etc.) or have a nature theme to them tend to disappoint me. For me, sophix didn’t really make sense to me for majority of the designs, they just tried to make it nature themed by throwing some green in everyone’s design and putting vines on their feet. It works for the most part, but the design itself doesn’t work all together. It’s also disappointing that Sophix, a nature theme transformation, looks so messy and random on Flora, who’s a fairy of nature. 

5. Lovix

Aisha. The light blue/mint color scheme on Aisha is super beautiful, and while I’m sure the relation between ice and water in this case isn’t relevant, I liked that it was her design that to me, looked the best. The touch of lavender in her wings and shoes is lovely too. Even with the amount of skin exposed it still oddly looks warm. On the other hand there is a lot I could say about Bloom, who looks like she’s going to attend a jazzercise class.

6. Harmonix

Musa. I doubt anyone will really disagree here. Everyone knows Harmonix was Musa’s transformation. She looks absolutely beautiful with the hair change- this was really the first time we get to see her without some kind of bangs- and the color scheme of purple and blue suits her really well. They also still kept red in the color scheme, which is great. It was really beautiful, so I am willing to ignore that it didn’t really match it’s own theme, and kind of felt like an extra unnecessary step to get sirenix. 

7. Sirenix

Bloom. Sirenix was a difficult one to choose, because I honestly feel it’s not really flattering on any of the characters. I do however give props to the fact that it does look much more ocean/water themed then harmonix did, as they designed the wings to look like a fish’s tail/fins and the body of it looks like a wet suit, at least in Bloom’s case. While many of the nature theme transformations don’t really match their theme, I think Sirenix did a pretty good job with it- it’s the color schemes that makes it less to me. If I could’ve chosen Daphne for this category, I would have.

8. Bloomix

Bloom. I love the design on the bodice looking like dragon scales, I love the hair, the colors, the wings, and that even though it’s totally blue, she still very much looks like a fairy with dragon-related powers. With that said, I don’t really get why sharing her power with someone else would upgrade her own? But I digress. Musa and Flora come in second place here, Musa for overall design and Flora for the brave change of hairstyle they went with over her usual bangs, which until this had never been changed!  On the other hand, I don’t think Aisha’s hairstyle suited her, and I have no comment on the weird one large one tiny ponytail thing Stella had going on. 

9. Mythix

Stella. I like that they went with mostly orange, and the way they include purple is more subtle and pretty looking then how it usually looks. I like the bangs, they’re really different for Stella but it works on her. And I love the wings, they have a blue-purple-orange gradient that is like the sunset and really suits her power. With that said, Mythix is a really random one. I don’t think a lot of effort or thought was put into these designs. 

10. Butterflix

Musa. As far as butterflix goes, the design is so similar picking the best looking one kind of means picking which color scheme you think is the most flattering. For Musa, the magenta, baby blue and lavender works really well, and with the wings, it pulls together really well with her hair color. Aisha’s was second, but I don’t like the strange fold over her dress has. 

11. Tynix

Bloom. There isn’t much to say in this case, as I kind of feel that it’s ismilar to butterflix where it becomes more of choosing what color scheme you think is nicest. I’ve never been a fan of Bloom’s blue+pink color scheme, so it was nice to actually like it here. With that said, Tynix was one transformation where oddly enough, the design doesn’t match it’s theme at all? Usually it’s the other way around, but this time the design is oddly nature themed- crystals and jewels- but tynix itself has nothing to do with that or with nature. I kind of feel like a gemstone/jewel theme fairy (like Diaspro for example) would have an enchantix that looks something like this.

12. Dreamix

Flora. Dreamix is one of the few times IMO where Flora’s green and pink color scheme really works. A lot of times with her it can look really tacky, particularly with her sirenix and her believix, but this time it works as it’s more pink with green details here and there. So it’s disappointing that WoW had to ruin that by whitewashing her. 

13. Onyrix

Stella. The main reason why I chose Stella for onyrix is simple: the brought back the blue! I didn’t think they ever would, since it had been replaced with purple/pink since believix, which was a LONG time ago. It’s really different from her orange/pink/purple color scheme, but it looks great on her- it just doesn’t make a lot of sense considering her power and original look. Oh well. The hairstyle looks great on her as well. With that said, Onyrix was a pretty pointless transformation in my opinion, and not a very good one either.

14. Cosmix

Aisha. Out of all of them, Aisha’s cosmix is the most beautiful. The colors, the hair, everything works in her favor. The teal color with just a tiny bit of purple is what makes it work, because with the others, they used two colors equally and it just doesn’t look good. With that said, the whitewashing- again- is inexcusable. First time I saw it, I thought Aisha was Flora. That’s how light they made her now. This is another transformation where they could’ve done so much more with a galaxy/star theme, but they just didn’t. There was a lot more room to make them more individual and unique, but the effort just wasn’t there. It’s so disappointing! 

And that’s it! If you made it this far, thank you for reading, I know it was a lot lol. Let me know what you think- where do you agree and disagree?

[systlin]

Odin

Opting for a submit versus an ask chain because I think this will take a bit of space. 

So I am laying there in my bed in the early hours of the morning. My sleep schedule is just terrible (hence early hours of the morning when civilized folk are waking up). I have a quiet model-making video playing on my phone (Luke Townsend on Youtube should one be interested in tiny super-realistic dioramas).

I’m facing my window which looks out onto lake Huron. The past few nights have been cloudy but there’s been ambient moonlight such that the sky takes on a beautiful gradient of a muted grey-purple down to deep black. Coupled with the lake being frozen and covered in snow such that it looks like you could simply walk out to the scraggy island and then forever it’s been very soothing. 10/10 colour combination.

On clear nights you can see all the seasonal stars and Venus/Mars/Jupiter depending on the time of year. It’s slightly rural so there’s not a huge amount of light pollution. The water is good to me. I’ve in fact never lived away from water in my entire life. She brings up loads of beach glass and bits of worn crockery on the beach. I collected 12lbs this past summer and I wasn’t even being very diligent.

My brother and I went out to collect washed up birch bark for possible resale this past summer further along the shore. Typically most people who also head out to that beach don’t go far beyond the area you can launch your boat so they can go fishing up a river that drains into the lake (and once used to host log booms so there’s loads of old bleached driftwood and stumps and deadheads). 

So we went walking well beyond where most go. It was warm and the water was perfect. I saw feathers on the ground. One was huge, the other a bit smaller. I half assumed Canada Goose until we saw the pile of fish scale nearby. Later inquiry suggested that feather was a second primary from a bald eagle. It was almost in perfect condition. I did smell it (because why not) and eagles, I can say, smell like dog. That sort of warm fur smell. Maybe a bit more musky.

How interesting, I thought. And how lucky to see it there on that day of all the days to go pick up old bits of birch bark. Said beach also has loads of Lingon berries come September (I guess also called mountain cranberries or partridge berries) and blackberries further along provided the summer isn’t too hot (it was this last one, sadly).

Sorry to tangent there. But I figured that sighting may be worth some sort of note. A possible ‘hey, hey, hey, human, I see you. See me’

So anyways, I’m laying there, not really asleep, just my usual mind buzzing and I suddenly see past my curtains, out to the lake, towards the scraggy island. The sky still dark and beautiful. The snow glowing softly in the moonlight.

He stands there, clad in a thick cloak that almost makes him appear hunched. I see no face as he stands slightly in profile/3/4s view, but there’s maybe the sense of a beard. Hat like Gandalf’s from the LotR movies, but the robes, if I try to remember, seem more of the Saint Nicholas traditional depictions. Possibly trimmed with dark fur. His clothes I would take to be grey but in the dark, are almost black. 

He’s holding a staff made from a small sapling. It splits near the top with the two tines curving naturalistically inwards forming an asymmetric sort of oblong void. In this void sits some sort of faceted crystal that contains pure fire. It stands out against the muted greys and whites of winter. It is warm, it is violent, and it is entrancing. I stared at it for some time. I am still the same distance as being in my room but also right there, looking at the crystal. He doesn’t beckon. Doesn’t gesture. I couldn’t even rightly say if there was a sense of any particular emotion attached as I saw this. 

But suddenly my eyes shot back open. I looked at my curtains and could see faintly an orange glow but it was in a place, and at a time of dark early morning where there ought not to have been an orange glow. After a few moments it faded. I tried to see if maybe it was the light on the end of the local marina that had maybe bled through or the buoy further out (which is red). Perhaps it was influenced by that. Although with how bad my vision is sans glasses and through a decently thick curtain, hard to perhaps say.

I knew I’d seen it all inside my head. So it was something else to have a faint bleed between mental and real.

The only thing I’d done differently before bed was instead of being upset the English smocking I’m working on wasn’t good enough, was sort of casting out to the gods and thinking on which god would work with this. And such a strong sense of Odin came through, with the reminder it’s not the product that matters but the learning in doing it. It didn’t have to be perfect, it was serving its purpose. He was right, too. It’s looking better the more I work on it and I think it’ll be fine in the end.

I’ve been a little hesitant in building a relationship with him. Like [I feel] there’s more to a bond Odin than there is with Thor or Loki or Frigg or Freya. Something a bit more serious? Usually my crafting makes me think of Frigg, so to address Odin on the topic was new. To address him outright was new.

I suppose this is all an overwrought way to say 'I think the Old Man dropped by to say hello’ and 'man that fire crystal thing was RAD and I wish I had one’. Sort of wanted to share with you as you’re close to him, and even now it feels unreal to me. I can’t quite say I’ve had a vision like that before, so I’m glad to have it written down now. My apologies for rambling 5ever!

-That is perfectly all right, and this made me smile. There is something...different to a bond with the Old Man, but it is one, in my opinion at least, that is worth it. Thank you very much for sharing this- Systlin