#if its sheet music you keep that under the chair or something

[zoeykallus]

Yo yo! If you're taking requests still could I pls nab maybe some Spicy HC of TBB + Rex *finishing* untouched? Like maybe they are so caught up in the heat of the moment or super touch starved and they can't help themselves. I love your writing so fkn much goddamn its just *chefs kiss*

Aloha!

I'm so sorry you had to wait so long for this, but it took me some time to get here through my asks and get through some personal stuff, you know to be in the right mood to write this and all... Well, without any further ado, here come your HCs.

You didn't mention a gender, so as always if not asked for something else, I'll go with a fem!reader. Hope that's okay! ... now on to the dirty stuff....

The Bad Batch /Rex x Fem!Reader HCs - A Ghostly Touch

Warnings: Strongly Suggestive/Consensual Sexual Content/Smut/Edging/Consensual Bondage/18+

_________________

Hunter

His senses are full of you. Your hormones have literally flooded him. Hunter's head is dipped between your thighs, his tongue dancing quickly and deftly on your clit, two fingers between your slick walls.

His cock is almost painfully hard, pulsing, hypersensitive. The last time you were intimate was a while ago, and your scent and the taste of your arousal on his tongue is driving him almost insane.

He listens to your moans, your little excited sighs that are like music to his ears. His hard length is pressed into the sheets, the mattress, while his tongue plays intensely with your pearl. His lips suck your clit perfectly, while his tongue tip, exerting perfect pressure in quick little circles, delightfully teases the sensitive little knot of nerves.

Hunter's muscles begin to quiver, he is so starved for you, his senses so overwhelmed by your sounds, your smell your taste on his nimble tongue.

It's just a tiny movement, his pelvis pressing a little harder into the mattress, his cock grazing the fabric of the sheets with a little emphasis. In the next moment, he grunts in surprise into your pubic as his orgasm bursts over him with explosive intensity. He feels his warm seed spreading out beneath him on the sheets.

A little out of breath, his head briefly pops up between your thighs. Your eyes meet, and you see by his face how surprised and a little beside himself Hunter is.

"Are you okay?" you ask softly, though breathlessly.

He swallows and says a little meekly, "Sorry, I think I just messed up your sheets."

Tech

Kissing, pumping, licking, you tease him for quite a while. Always on the edge, and yet you don't let him slide into the release he craves. But Tech likes that, he asks you for it often, it's one of his kinks. Your lips and tongue keep sliding along his cock, only to let go of him as soon as he's about to cum.

Actually, he should be working, when you came into the cockpit, Tech was lying under the console, between loosely hanging cables. But you laid down next to him under the console and whispered dirty and sweet nothings to him until he finally sat down in the pilot seat and dropped his pants.

Sweat is on his forehead, his muscles are tense, he's breathing hard, the look on his face is adorably helpless. The way he looks at you, you know he worships you and his salvation is in your hands, lips and tongue.

Shakily, he adjusts his goggles with his index finger, licks his lips and swallows.

"Honey, I don't know how much longer I can take this".

A smile spreads across your lips. You look up at Tech with a naughty glint in your eye. His hard length standing erect in front of your nose, you purse your lips and breathe a hot exhale on his hypersensitive cock.

Tech's eyes tear open, a surprised groan comes from his mouth, you can see his testicles tighten and his cock pulsate, moments later his seed spurts from the small slit at the swollen, velvety tip.

Tech emits a silent curse through clenched teeth. He slumps backward in the pilot's chair, breathing hard and sweaty. With a soft laugh, you climb happily onto his lap and beam at him.

You ask him tenderly with a gentle little kiss, "How was that?"

After another deep breath, he smiles at you and says, "Exceptional."

Echo

His mind has long since departed, at least that's how it feels to him. You are alone for the first time, for the first time about to become really intimate, and he sees you here and now, for the first time naked and standing in front of him in all your beauty.

His cock has just reached diamond hardness level, just from the sight of you, just at the thought of being allowed to touch your warm, naked skin. He kisses your breasts and his hand playfully wanders down your body.

Echo is as excited as probably never before, he has waited patiently for this moment for a long time. He sits on your desk chair, and you stand in front of him. His heart is racing, his hard manhood is pulsating, the tip slightly red and swollen.

Your hand playfully strokes along his wonderful cock, and you say suggestively, "I can't wait for you to penetrate me."

Echo expels a shaky breath, just the thought making his hormones go crazy. As you turn your backside to him with a lewd little smile and bend over the table, you hear a soft, startled sound come out of his mouth. Shortly after, you feel something warm splatter against your thighs and buns.

"What…"

Surprised, you look around to see Echo looking up at you from his seat in your office chair, startled, downright horrified.

"I'm so sorry that… that's never happened to me before! It's just, we've waited so long to be intimate with each other, it's been a long time since I…. And I'm just overwhelmed by you."

You see the panic in his gaze and smile softly at him.

"That's alright Echo, you'll have longer stamina on the second try".

You kiss his forehead and say, "Will you help me clean myself up before we continue?"

Echo nods eagerly.

"Of course."

After a brief pause, he whispers, pressing a kiss to your ear, "Thank you, beautiful."

"For what?"

"For your understanding"

Wrecker

Your big man is completely exhausted. Sweating, Wrecker lies in the sheets, you've been teasing him for quite a while, with hands, lips and tongue. His hard length is reddened and swollen at the tip, every little touch makes him whimper.

"This is absolute torture, the sweetest torture there is, but torture nonetheless, sweetheart," he says, breathing heavily, his brow furrowed, his massive fingers clawed into the sheet that's already partially torn under his tense grip.

As you chuckle softly, you hear a low growl come deep from his chest. All of a sudden he sits up, grabs you and pushes you into the sheets. A startled exclamation escapes you as his head dives between your naked thighs, and he drills his powerful tongue into your pussy without warning, while the tip of his nose rubs over your clit.

Within seconds, you are moaning his name over and over as he fucks you with his massive tongue. He moans into your pussy, his hard cock pressed into the mattress beneath him. He is so horny that it almost hurts.

As if starved, he licks you out, his tongue greedily speeds into your little hole again and again while the friction caused by his nose on your pearl remains. His strong hands hold your thighs apart, trembling with excited tension in his hard yet careful grip.

He murmurs into your pubic, "Tastes good…. mmmphf, babe I think I'm about to cum".

As you cry out in lust, succumbing to your orgasm, he's rutting his cock into the mattress, his whole body tense, and finally the release he's been longing for comes for him too. A deep growl escapes from his throat and enters your still quivering pussy, his head still resting between your thighs.

You can see how his muscles finally lose their tension. Lazily, he licks your oversensitive pussy a few times and grins as you twitch in his grip.

Crosshair

He behaved like a spoiled brat. It took forever to convince him to let you tie him up. Crosshair and you came up with a safeword and today, for once, as he emphasized, you were supposed to be in control and in charge of your intimacies, including his.

The look with which he looks at you penetratingly was challenging at first. As you undressed in front of him, his pupils dilated and hunger mingled with the challenge in his expression. As you sit down in front of him, wide-legged in a large armchair, his eyes fall on the velvety bloom of your pussy, between your thighs, and he licks his lips. He's tied to his chair, though, and can't move.

Crosshair swallows, he frowns as you take a vibrator and stimulate your clit, right in front of him. For a little while, not too long, he is quiet. You can clearly see the bulge in his pants.

Finally, he complains, "Come on, at least let me participate in some way".

You smile cheekily and say, "I do, watching is also a way of participating".

Crosshair grits his teeth.

"Kitten, you are on thin ice, you know I will get back at you".

You bite your lower lip, of course you know that, and he knows you are aware of it. He slides restlessly back and forth on his chair, only a few millimeters because his shackles don't allow anymore.

He snorts, and reluctantly says, almost begging, "At least free my cock, it's really uncomfortable like this".

But you let him squirm for quite a while, stroking yourself, close to his nose, swinging your naked body and touching yourself. His gaze grows more pleading, more hungry. When Crosshair looks like he might burst at any moment, you finally relent.

You unzip his pants, pull down his underpants, and his hard cock plops out, hard, gently curved, veiny and gorgeous. It's just a gossamer touch of your fingers, but the next moment he tears open his eyes in alarm, and you feel his hot seed spurt onto your bare breasts, down your neck and onto your chin.

His expression is hard to interpret, there is a certain anger, shame and perhaps confusion in it. Crosshair isn't one of those who is quick or early to cum, you both know that. But something about the whole situation has taken him here and now prematurely, perhaps he liked the shackles a lot better than he wanted to admit.

"You better untie me, Kitten, right now!"

You blink, but comply with his request directly. No sooner is he freed from his bonds than his hand darts forward and grabs your chin in a demanding manner, ignoring the fact that he's just reaching into his own cum.

"I hope you're prepared, Missy," he growls.

His face comes closer, and much more gently, close to your ear he says, "You remember the safeword?"

"Yes, I remember," you say, a little breathlessly.

"Good."

The next moment, he pushes you not so gently onto the bed and begins to undress.

"Time for some punishment" he says with a smirk.

You're in for a long, hot night.

Rex

Clad only in panties, you sit on his lap. You haven't seen each other for weeks, a month and a half to be exact, an agonizingly long eternity. When Rex unexpectedly comes to your apartment, a week earlier than expected, you immediately pounce on him. You rip off his armor and push him onto the sofa.

Rex doesn't complain, not at all, at first he's surprised, but he's at least as starved as you are. His strong hands knead your buns while you shamelessly rub against the bulge in his Blacks pants.

Between wild kisses he says breathlessly, "Darling, this could be over pretty quickly if you don't stop rubbing yourself against me like that…. come on, let me spoil you a little before we do something else".

You don't want to stop though, clinging to him, you just want to feel him, right now you don't want anything else, you don't care if he cums before you can do more, you've already scheduled several rounds in your head anyway.

Rex moans softly, and his hands are still gripped hard in your buns.

"My love… wait…"

Your heart is hammering in your chest, just like his. You finally pull yourself together and hold still, leaning back a tiny bit to look into his face. Sweat is on his brow, he looks breathless, and he smiles wryly at you.

"That was close," he says, scratching the back of his head with a nervous little laugh.

"I just wanted to feel you"

Rex smirks.

"I want to feel you too, beautiful."

You reach down, wanting to pull down his pants, Rex is surprised, trying to stop you but he reacts too late. He is so starved and oversensitive, the small movement, your hand and the fabric brushing along his hard length as you pull down his pants are too much.

The next moment you feel his hot seed, splattering onto your wrist and lap, and Rex wincing beneath you.

"Fuck…" he curses softly, startled.

You smirk at him.

"It's okay, we still have the whole night ahead of us."

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

[whole-circus]

hi! since your requests are open, could I ask for some room hdc?? with characters of your choice 🧎‍♀️

please take care of yourself and take your time!!

Creepypastas room headcanons!

➥ Jeff the Killer, Homicidal Liu, Eyeless Jack, Ben Drowned, Clockwork and Hobo Heart

Oh hi and thank you!! Here you go sweetie! If you wanted someone more then feel free to uptade!! :33

.•┈••✦ 🖤 ✦••┈•.

☆ Jeff the Killer

What a stinky men. Im sorry but his room is messy for sure and you can't convince me otherwise! Dirty clothes, empty cans, leftovers, stains..man, hire him a maid or something. Some dead plants and messy grafitties, stolen traffic signs and construction boards! Propably never in his life made bed, and his sheets aren't changed often.

Definitely has many band posters on his walls too! Maybe some vinyls too?? Mostly the black, red and grey colours can be seen. Hates the big light, so usually sits in dark or with small lamp. His drapes 24/7 covered. He is emo and plays loud music.

Smells like cigarettes and like room that hadn't been aired for long time.

☆ Homicidal Liu

Pretty, clean and organized room! The only 'messy' thing could be mugs he forgot to clean (same tho). Im sure he has gramophone and listen some of this old, silly, romantic songs! Also - a lot of plants, maybe even lego flowers? Couple of this aesthetic posters, some gobelins, small paintings. Photos with his friends, S/O! His bed is almost always well made. He have many books, and an easel (what an art hoe of him).

Mostly green, brown and beige colours. He loves natural light and candles, and if the weather is nice then his windows are open.

His room smells like cleaning detergents, soil and candles (usually the flower ones).

☆ Eyeless Jack

Soo..his room is not as clean, but its caused by his wild side. On his walls and furnitures are many straches from his hands (or even teeth!). Otherwise? You don't have to worry about surviving visiting his room, you have high chance to not caught anything! I would say his room is pretty dark, only becasue his walls are in gloomy colours - maybe not black, but gray, green or navy blue (all in dark shades).

Let's pretend that he actually was into medicine before all his tragic events..pls? Propably has some decorations, like skeleton, anatomy-related posters! Also likes to keep his blinds shut, he is pretty hypersensitive in terms to hearing, sight, smell. And maybe..he would have this small, funny fridge in his room, you know - to keep his..food..fresh!

About the smell..maybe a bit of blood? And something rotten? But its not that strong tho!

☆ Ben Drowned

Musty, dusty and rusty room, but we still love him! He would clean once in a while, and he do that very solid..but that doesn't last long - his room gets messy very easly. When he isnt gaming then he is sleeping..pretty productive, huh? Bed is never made, lots of junk food wrappers, empty (or not) cans..

LED lights 25/8! His room is pretty dark, propably never seen the sun. On his walls are posters from movies, anime and games. Has pretty professional gaming set when it comes to computer (I would describe it but i only know that computer need screen and keybord lol). High chance of having some psp gaming corner! Like bean bag pouffe, TV and stuff. Also! Collects figures like funko pops, anime figures, nendoroids. Ben have pretty nice Lego collection too!

His room smells like sweat and energy drinks.

☆ Clockwork

A bit messy, but in this aesthetic way - in other way, chaos under control! You know, some clothes at the floor or on chair..some dirty mugs..and her trash can is a bit too full..but as I said - everything looks pretty planed..! She has many blankets and plushies (she would never admit to that tho) on her bed.

In her room dominates mostly shades of dark green and white! Has many fun stuff in her room - rocks, animal skulls..sorry fellow animal lovers, promise they were found! But also a guitar! Full jewelry holder - and they are all well made! Thats why they are a bit too messy.. And she keeps many fake plants, she sucks at taking care of them. Clockwork has many string lights in various shapes!

Dunno, but I cant really assign smell of her room! Maybe something like dust and coffee?

☆ Hobo Heart

Ahh I miss this pretty boy to be honest! His room is clean, end of the sentence, thats it. I also think that he would have some pet in terrarium or aquarium - lizard, frog or just some fishes. Even if they are small, he treat them with proper respect and like the family members!

Has white walls with paintings and photos of his friends/SO, but most of the decorations are in shade of red. Also vinyls as decorations and posters of his favorite singers/bands (m sorry but he totally looks like somoene listening to Lana Del Ray vibes T^T) - all in this 'aesthetic way'! Simple light bed sheets, and when his bed is made (which is pretty often) he put pillows that have this silly shapes. Like to keep his room natural lightened and loves candles!

His room smells pretty like vanilia, but its not a strong scent.

.•┈••✦ 🖤 ✦••┈•.

[talentforlying]

NINE NIFTY THINGS YOUR MUSE CAN DO.

01. write & read music. not that punk band mucous membrane was churning out grammy-winning material, mind you, but knowing where all the notes go on a sheet of staff paper, which ones sound good together, and a handful of things about tempo and rhythm aren't half-bad skills to have. of course, constantine's process for writing music would make professional composers cry, but these days he most often puts this skill towards creating new spells, since he finds the principles remarkably similar, so the music world is spared his endeavors for now. ( underground single venus of the hardsell excepting. )

02. miniature-scale arts & crafts. he's really gifted with his hands, and with any activity that requires fine motor skills: intricate ritual-carving, cutting his own hair, braiding other people's hair, restringing an instrument, rolling insanely long joints, fixing jewelry, sewing, threading a corset, building a detail-accurate small scale model of a chair out of matchboxes for an ex-girlfriend's miniature house.

03. electrical work. another useful application of his excellent fine motor skills. he's lived in enough shithole apartments and had to hot-wire enough cars for friends to know his way around a wiring issue or two, not to mention the fact that electricity can be a handy supplemental power source in certain spells and it's helpful knowing how to get to it wherever you are. it stands out because he's pretty terrible with most other forms of household maintenance; there's just something uniquely mind-boggling about a guy who can't unclog his sink but can install a circuit breaker like a pro.

04. tie a cherry stem with his tongue. natch.

05. get anywhere in london, and cite almost anything in its history, from memory. a big bloody city with a big, bloody history attracts a lot of unearthly creatures with a lot of different emotional, spiritual, psychic, and physical fancies; it's been useful for him to know where significant events have happened, and when, and why, in case something starts up and the symptoms strike a chord. it's also useful to know where to go when he needs to gather specific kinds of information: the seedier pawn shops, gang territories, high-end clubs where celebrities and politicians go to hide from the press. on top of the strategic reasons, he's also spent a significant amount of time being homeless under a few different circumstances, and keeps his accumulated knowledge of last-ditch shelters, times that the police patrol the sewer tunnels, and safe places for a meal close at heart.

06. gamble with a 100% win rate. two of his best tricks are synchronicity wave traveling and probability manipulation, where he basically feels out the flow of luck in the space around him and shifts the current to go his way. it's incredibly dangerous on a larger scale, since it can cause a butterfly effect — too risky to use on avoiding a hit that would have killed him or sabotaging a villain's scheme, for example — but as long as he sticks to small-scale, short-term events like horse races and poker games, he cleans up easy. it's his primary source of income, since he doesn't have an actual job.

07. melt the face off a vampire. specifically the former king of the vampires, but supposedly any. demon blood is a nasty thing to have in your veins, and incredibly corrosive upon ingestion/absorption, for unknown reasons. if anyone wanted a snack they'd have a bad, bad time.

08. semi-fluently sign in & understand BSL. he credits his reason for learning to a deaf ex-boyfriend he dated in the 90s and has continued to brush up on his skills over time, although his preference to learn languages from the people who use them, lack of consistent lessons, and geographically-wide variety of friends has resulted in a . . . frankly nightmarish hodgepodge of dialects that can make him harder to understand.

09. play electric guitar, bass guitar & harmonica. he was lead vocalist and bassist for mucous membrane, and although they were only together a year before the newcastle incident, he'd been learning both electric and bass for a year or two before. it took him a long, long time to pick it up again, given the circumstances, but he managed to get his hands on a fender 1962 jazz bass a few years back and has been slowly but steadily working on getting the old feel back. the harmonica started as a joke gift from gary after constantine and chas got arrested for a pub fight in '77, so they could play it to pass the time when they inevitably got shafted by the system ( they didn't, constantine talked their way out ) but he became quite genuinely good at it, and now it's his shameful secret.

[fox-buried-in-maple-leaves]

I had to homebrew a patron for a made up dnd campaign the ocs participate in. But picrew was not strong enough for the vibes. Have a fic.

An almost ethereal, sort of uneasy music began to play from Serafim’s laptop. The table was quiet for the most part, going over their character sheets, marking down what was used during the last few encounters. A reprieve, they were at the inn for the evening after all, about to engage in a long rest.

“Orian.”

Serafim’s voice broke the quietness, Fennel looking up from his sheet like a deer in the headlights to be called out. “You mentioned earlier that Azrael speaking of his angelic connection, to Cadriel, reminded you..” Serafim leaned forward some, his eyes trained on the warlock player. “You have never actually spoken to your Patron. And that’s true, you haven’t.”

“Uh ohhh..”

Marilla leaned back in her chair, smile on her face as she watched the scene before her unfold. “I want you, in front of everyone, to roll a d20. Just a flat roll.” Serafim watched as his brother took one of the character dice that’d been crafted for him, rolling it on the table for everyone to see. “A sixteen, wonderful.”

Fennel placed the dice back on his side of the table. “Orian you are getting ready for bed, alone in this inn room for the evening. And as you’re getting ready for bed, that conversation in mind. You realise, on a sixteen, if you were to summon your patron. It may very well appear to you.” A chorus of ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ filled the table as Fennel was left with a choice.

“Prophet? Are you listening?”

“Whoosh..” Serafim changed the music, string instruments, played delayed and slow. “A cold begins to fill you as the room around you grows darker. You’ve been hit with frost damage before, this is colder than that.” Fennel grimaced, he didn’t like the sound of that. “The standing mirror in the room begins to crack.”

“Can I go look at it?” Serafim nodded. “Okay, I begin to inspect the mirror then.”

“As you reach out and touch the cracks, you realise the mirror on your side isn’t actually cracked.” Serafim took a sip of his water. “Where you touch frosts over but it doesn’t feel any colder.” He paused to let the moment really sink in. “And then the mirror begins to fog. It also gets dark.”

“What did Orian summon? Holy shit.” Fennel exhaled and leaned back in his chair. Marilla snorted, shaking her head while Araceli leaned forward, utterly invested.

“You realise, as your reflection in the mirror begins to disappear, the grand clock in the room has stopped ticking. The loud tick tock you said was annoying is gone, and you are left in piercing silence.” Serafim smiled as Fennel sank in his chair. He then snapped, drawing everyone’s attention. “The mirror gives out one final loud crack. And as the fog begins to fill the room rather than the mirror, you see someone standing behind you.”

“I turn around with my dagger drawn.”

Serafim nods, looking down at something on his laptop before looking back up. “This hooded figure towers over you. Which usually isn’t very difficult, you are a satyr. But it is tall. You’d want to guess maybe eight to nine feet.” Céfiro made a face, Faer elbowing to keep him quiet. “‘You have called for me?’” Serafim’s voice dropped some, using magic to make his words seem more echoey.

“Prophet?”

“The figure nods at you.”

“Can I see anything else or is it too dark?”

“You can sense it’s shrouding itself in magical darkness. However.. From under its hood you can see long flowing hair. Or what you would guess is hair. But the harder you try to figure out the colour, the less you can pinpoint it. It seems to shift between hues of blue, purple, black, red..” Fennel nodded, taking a few notes wordlessly.

“‘What need you?’ It asks.”

“I just wanted to see if you would come.”

Fennel exhaled again, he really didn’t have a plan for this. “You watch as The Prophet steps forward, but it doesn’t seem to connect with the ground as it takes those steps. That magical darkness is obscuring most of its features, but as it gets closer you can see shadows are creeping up almost ghostly pastel blue legs.”

“Like shoes?? Sorry, I’m not there.”

Serafim shrugged though, nodding. “It stops in front of you and peers down at you. From this angle you think you can see its face. But you have the same problem you have with its hair, in that what you’re seeing, keeps changing. First you think it has black eyes that are leaking a red liquid, then black eyes that are leaking a black liquid, black sclera with bright blue pupils..”

“Can I roll.. I don’t know, an insight or something? Anything to figure out what it's deal is?” Serafim nodded again and Fennel sighed, sitting up to grab his die. “Shit uh that’s only..” Fennel grabbed his character sheet squinting at it. “Thirteen.”

“On a thirteen, you really can’t read it. Not its face at least, on a thirteen you think from its body language, that it's curious.”

“Okay.. Orian clears his throat, and he-”

When Fennel paused, Serafim spoke again. “‘You seem lost. Is this place disorientating you? Few travel to a domain I can materialise.’” Another few ‘ooohs’ “The Prophet lifts its hand, and places it on your hand. And you realise those same shadows creeping up its legs? Are also creeping up its arms. Its fingers don’t feel quite solid to you.”

“It’s just hard to believe you’re the one granting me my magic, is all.”

“The Prophet sort of tilts its head at that, and you get a better look at its face. It certainly seems to be a pastel shade of blue, and as you look into its eyes, they seem to finally stick? The sclera is black with a bright blue iris, you can’t tell if its ooze dripping from its eyes or if it's more of those weird shadows. There also seems to be.. Cracks? Along its facial skin.”

“‘Is it?’” The music was turned off completely, the room quiet, almost eerily so. “‘I am all that is, all that was, all that will be. When all is gone, I will remain. I have foreseen countless futures and lived countless pasts.’ You are filled with a sense of dread as its voice begins to overlap, like more than one person is speaking.”

“Will I-” Fennel sat forward, head almost snapping to Serafim. “Will I become like you?”

“The ticking of the clock slowly becomes audible, but it's faded, like its several rooms over. ‘Does time have a sense of self, dear champion?’ It gets louder, like a beating in your ears. ‘You have work yet to be completed.’”

“Wait! I’m not done asking questions?!”

“Whoosh…. You’re back in the normal inn room, the clock says that no time has passed since you last looked at it. And that’s where we’ll leave it for tonight!”

“WHAT?!”

“HELLO???”

[megsbr]

hi!! i see ur requests are open so id like to request something:) (its totally okay if you don’t wanna write this)

maybe something with cc!dream and an afab reader who have been online best friends for a while and like each other and have a lot of tension..but they never act on their feelings. then eventually they meet and basically have like super cute and needy sex lol with a lot of praise and cute stuff like that :)

fly to me | dream.

Dream brings one of his favorite childhood songs to life one late night and buys you a ticket for your first meetup. Once you met up though, you both took full advantage of not being in front of a screen anymore.

cc!Dream x female!reader

WARNINGS: smut, oral (female receiving), MDNI word count: 3.3k

author's note: one of my first dteam works, has been rewritten a few times and I still don't like it but I tried my best :)

Some of the best conversations you and Dream have ever had were at 2 am in a discord call when you both can barely keep your eyes open and are slurring or mumbling most of your words. Tonight’s topic was music and some of the stuff you used to listen to as teenagers. “Wait, wait. You’re telling me you went through an emo phase?” Thankfully these conversations were over discord and Dream couldn’t see your face because you were as red as a firetruck while Dream was joking about all the different music tastes you enjoyed. “Yes! And I may or may not still like it.” Dream’s laugh echoed through your headphones but you knew it was all in good fun.

Suddenly you heard a bunch of rustling and moving around which caused a scratchy sound to come through and pierce your ears. “Okay, what are you doing? Trying to rupture my eardrum?” Dream let out a little chuckle and mumbled something under his breath about trying to get comfortable as he moved to his bed. “Sorry, I wanted to lay in bed. More comfortable here than in my chair.”

You could picture him now, he’s probably wearing sweatpants or basketball shorts and some t-shirt and his hair is probably all rustled up from a long day of rubbing his hand through it. He’s laying against the headboard, one hand resting behind his head, causing his shirt to rise ever so slightly to expose some skin on his hip. His phone is held in his other hand while he’s staring at the ceiling with droopy eyes and a goofy smile as he cracks more of his terrible jokes that you laugh at anyway because his laugh makes you laugh. The light from the phone would be shining on his face, highlighting his jawline and glowing skin and putting a spotlight on the smirk he wore every time he said something that made me audibly flustered.

“You should give alternative or emo a chance though. It’s pretty good.” You shyly mumbled under your breath, suddenly becoming self-conscious of your interests and sharing your opinions. “Oh wait, there was this one song I found a few years ago. I really liked it. Hold on, let me find it and I’ll message it to you..” As Dream began searching his phone for this song, it became silent on the call. The idea of Dream wanting to share a song with you caused little butterflies in your stomach, knowing he wanted to specifically share something with you made you feel so special.

“Ah, here it is.” A little ding rang through your monitor, signaling the message from Dream came through. It was a Spotify listening party request. You opened the link and it instantly started to play a song through both of your devices. It was an All Time Low song.

“If These Sheets Were States. I know this one, definitely have had some angsty screaming sessions with this one.” Dream was humming along to the song with a few mumbled words every now and then. You could listen to his voice, even if only little hums and mumbles, for hours. The calming tone he possessed just made the hearts in your eyes grow bigger every second. You felt so safe and secure in this moment that you never wanted it to end. “

It is such a beautiful concept if you think about it. Being able to fold a map, or in this case a sheet, in order to bring the person you love more than anything else to you.” Dream rambled a little longer about the different references to types of bedding and pillows in the song and how romantic it is. You keep humming in response every few sentences to signal you were paying attention but in reality you weren’t. You were obviously listening but more to the sound of his voice and less of what he was saying.

“I wish I had a way to be closer to you.” That comment suddenly broke you out of the trace you were in and made you sit up straighter in your seat. “I just want to hang out with you in person and do things together. I just want to like, be able to touch you and stuff.” The call went quiet after that and you cleared your throat trying to move past what Dream said. “I mean, I meant that as, you know, not like touch you. I wouldn’t do that to you. Not in like a bad way. I am sure you’re amazing to touch. Uh, wait not like that. I mean, I want to hug you and stuff. Yeah, just, just hug you.” Dream was fumbling over his words and stuttering as he pushed out any excuse he could. His flustered speech made you giggle as he just kept digging himself a deeper hole with every word.

“Don’t worry I want to touch you too.” You both broke out into even more giggles, the slight tension from Dream’s comment immediately dissipating. “Yeah, maybe one day I’ll be able to visit.’ You both talked a little more about some of the things you could go do together if you ever met. Dream talked about showing you places in his hometown and maybe going to Disney or Universal or driving to the beach. The idea of doing these things with Dream, and him showing so much excitement about it, warmed your heart and those butterflies were moving around even faster. The idea of meeting Dream in person, seeing his face, “hugging” him, and everything else that came with him was exciting but also terrifying because you knew you wouldn’t be able to hide your normal hair twirling, red face, lip bites and swinging legs that came with just having a conversation with Dream.

The conversation slowly died out as you were yawning every other word and Dream offered to pick the call up tomorrow, wanting you to get your sleep. You said your goodbyes and hung up. But then not even 30 minutes later, your phone buzzed with a text from Dream. The text read, ‘I did some folding’. It was accompanied by a picture of some folded bed sheets and a screenshotted image of a plane ticket to Orlando, that was in a mere 3 days.

—------

The past three days have gone by both too slow and too fast. You so quickly went from freaking out about what outfits to pack with your entire closet laid out on your floor to throwing up in the airport bathroom to now walking through the baggage claim of the Orlando airport. You found your bag quickly and forced your way through the crowds to get to the arrival area. You scoured over the groups of people holding flowers and signs, not knowing what, or who, you were supposed to be looking for.

You were about to look back down at your phone to text Dream and ask how you were meant to find him when you suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and a warmth engulf you. The mini heart attack you had came and went very quickly as you heard that familiar chuckle directly in your ear, the same way you have through your headphones for years now.

You turned around in his arms and looked at him, your chin resting on his chest due to your height difference. You were met with the brightest smile and most mesmerizing green eyes. Dream’s hands were still holding onto your hips and he gripped at them ever so slightly before he pulled you into a real hug. His hands dropped to the small of your back as your arms flew around his neck. Suddenly he flexed his arms and he picked you up, holding your whole body tight against his as he spun you around in a small circle. His head dropped in the crook of your neck as he asked how you were and how the flight was and a million other questions all at once.

As he set you down and let you go, his hands guided themselves up to your shoulders and then down your arms and he settled his hands into yours, holding them tightly and giving you a slightly tighter grip every few seconds. With one hand still in lock with yours, he grabbed your suitcase and led the two of you out of the busy airport and to his car. The drive back was filled with loud music, which was from a playlist he had been making in secret for months of every song you ever talked about liking, and the two of you rambling about all the fun things you were gonna do together and all the sites you wanted to see. You were so excited in the moment that you almost didn’t notice his hand resting on your thigh the whole ride to his house.

Even when you arrived at the house you guys still couldn’t stop talking, immediately bringing your conversation to the couch and continuing there. “Yeah, so the guy sitting behind me kept pushing against my seat and wouldn’t stop. And the lady next to me took her shoes off and her feet smelled so bad.” Dream laughed loudly at your story of your less than enjoyable plane ride, his smile stretching across his face and his head thrown back in an even more beautiful scene than you could have ever imagined in your daydreams.

“Well, what matters is you’re here now.” Dream managed to get out some words between his laughs at your misery. Those butterflies returned as he calmed down and his eyes stared into yours and his smile softened as you stared back. “Yeah, and it’s all thanks to you for folding some sheets.” He playfully rolled his eyes and dipped his head down as he chuckled at the story of the song you guys listened to days ago. Dream would never tell you this, but he’s been listening to that song on repeat ever since you said you would take the plane ticket and come meet him.

He has spent every night since then thinking about how pretty you are and how nervous he was to meet you and how scared he was at the idea you may not like him in person as much as you do virtually. “I’m really glad you’re here though. I feel like we have waited for this moment forever.” As Dream's voice got quiet with the serious confession, the mood of the room switched and you both were unknowingly getting closer to one another. “I’m really glad I am here too.” You whispered as Dream’s face was suddenly very close to yours. You could feel each other's hot breath on your face and you really hoped Dream couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating from the lack of space between you two.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Dream seemed to hesitate as he said this, unsure if this was truly what he wanted to say. The tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Dream’s natural warmth was bouncing off his tanned skin and surrounded you in a cloud of what could only be described as heaven. “Of course. You can tell me anything.” Dream let out a sigh as he slowly brought a hand up to the side of your face and decided to rest the other on top of one of yours. “Ever since I hugged you at the airport, all I’ve wanted to do is kiss you.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

“I didn’t want to just assume anything.”

“I think you’d be right in assuming.”

Dream closed the almost nonexistent space that was left between the two of you and placed his lips ever so slightly on yours. You closed your eyes as you embraced the warmth that flooded your body as you finally registered what was happening. Wanting a better angle, you climbed onto Dream’s lap and wrapped your legs around him. His hands found their way to your hips as he deepened the kiss and ever so slightly moaned when you moved against his crotch. You went on like for a few more minutes before Dream lightly pulled at the hem off your shirt and his fingertips lightly tapped at the exposed skin from your shirt that had ridden up a bit in the middle of your make-out session. You quickly pull away from Dream to grab the ends of your shirt and throw it over your head and toss it aside. You turned back towards Dream to see his eyes wide and focused on your chest, surprised at the sudden change of view.

You called out to him, getting his attention back to your eyes. He snapped back to reality and looked at you, almost asking for permission for something as his hands were slowly lifting themselves off your hips. You nodded slightly with a smirk as his hands immediately took hold of your boobs through your bra and he basked in all their glory. “You can take it off if you want.” After you shyly muttered those words you were suddenly losing all your clothing, as was Dream.

You were now laying flat on Dream’s couch, with him hovered above you, both of you naked and kissing each other and feeling every inch of skin your hands could find. Dream moved to plant kisses all over your face and slowly began dragging them down your body. He moved to your nipples, planting little kisses on them and sucking on them for a few seconds before he followed his hands down your sides and to your thighs. He pushed them out a bit, making you expose yourself to him.

You mumbled under your breath, asking him to hurry up which he replied by placing his mouth on your clit causing a chill to move up your body at the new feeling. He shoved his face into your heat and began lapping at the juices like it was his last meal. “You taste so good, baby girl. My sweet little girl is getting so wet just for me.” The nicknames he was giving you went straight to your stomach, that knot growing tighter and tighter the more he went. Dream picked up your thighs and put them over his shoulders wanting to get even more of you.

Looking down at the boy in between your legs, you couldn’t believe the scene that was unfolding. Dream had now locked eyes with you as your juices were dripping down his chin and he lapped at your clit like it was what he was born to do. Your fingers reached out to grab a handful of his hair and tugged on it which caused a groan to escape Dream’s mouth which then added to the immense pleasure you were already receiving. You were moaning out Dream’s name along with a string of curses as you got close to your orgasm. Dream seemed to take notice of this as he pulled away, a string of cum and spit between his chin and your clit. Just as you went to protest, Dream said, “I want to make you come when I am inside you. I want to feel you. All of you.”

Dream helped push you up farther on the couch and placed a pillow under your hips as he said he wanted you to be comfortable. He was fumbling all over the place, trying to go find a condom in his bathroom and then running back trying to open it and find a good position to get in and getting frustrated at himself when he just elbowed you in the stomach by accident. You grabbed his face and pulled him up to you and kissed him, and dragged your fingers through his hair to help calm him down. Still kissing him, you grabbed the condom from his hand, opened it up, and rolled it on for him, the slight feeling of your fingertips against his sensitive tip sending him into overdrive.

Dream moved to align up his cock, pulling away from you and looking for any sign of hesitation in your eyes. When he found none, he pushed himself all the way inside of you, the stretch of your walls burning but in one of the best possible ways. He stayed still for a moment, his breathing ragged as he sat being cockwarmed by you. After adjusting your hips a bit, you gave him the go-ahead to move.

He started off slow, wanting you to get used to his size and giving you more time to back out if you weren’t comfortable. But you grew impatient of this so you took matters in your own hands and you began thrusting yourself on his cock. This visual was only making Dream more turned on as he began to get a feel for the pace you wanted, the pace you needed. Dream began ramming into you, each thrust pushing you up against the couch. You whimpered with every thrust, pulling Dream by his neck closer to you, needing to feel every inch of him. His arms came around your body, his large figure engulfing your much smaller one.

His groans were right next to your ear and were mixed with every ounce of praise he could give you. “My beautiful, beautiful girl is taking me so well. It’s like you were made just for me.” You turned your head into his neck, opting to bite and suck at it. This slight pain caused Dream to push into with even more force every time, your moans acting as encouragement. You moaned about how good he was and how well he was treating you. “Yes Dream, right there. Just like that. You are so good, so good to me.” You begged him to keep going as one of his hands slipped in between your bodies to rub against your clit. You arched your body up into his hand, the dual simulation making you feel like you were on cloud nine.

“Is my darling gonna come for me? You wanna show me how good you are and how thankful you are I flew you out here?” You screamed your answer back as Dream was not slamming his hips against yours. His mouth was all over your face and neck as you threw your head back and pulled at his hair. You tried to say thank you and that you were close but all your brain could come up with was mumbles and incoherent babbles. You were too far gone at this point and all you knew was Dream. You clenched around his cock, the response being great enough from him that you kept doing it until he was shaking and announcing that he was coming. He kept rubbing your clit through his orgasm which pushed you over the edge and you were soon coming around his cock and dripping onto the couch.

Dream pulled out slowly so as to not overstimulate you and grabbed his discarded shirt on the floor to lightly wipe off your inner thighs and your clit. He stood up and walked to the kitchen to discard the condom and brought up some glasses of water and set them on the table. He bent over to slowly pick you up before settling back on the couch and laying you on top of him, grabbing the nearby blanket and draping it across your body. Dream pulled you to his chest and you cuddled into him, taking in the intense mixture of his sweat smell and worn off cologne, both of which were helping bring you back down to earth. Dream leaned his head down to place a kiss on your forehead before pulling you closer as you both fell asleep with the biggest smiles on your faces.

[wkemeup]

The Offer

summary: Zemo offers to sell the Winter Soldier in exchange for information. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 3k warnings: vaguely implied unwanted sexual contact a/n: this is based around the Madripoor scene in TFATWS ep 3, particularly Zemo’s suggestion of “he will do anything you want.”

“You must maintain your cover,” Zemo’s voice rang in your ear, drowning out the heavy bass of loudspeakers from the club down the hall. “If you break character, they will know... and they will kill us.”

You held your breath; arms folded tight across your chest, nails digging into the exposed skin on your biceps. It did little to ease the strain within your muscle as you watched Bucky standing guard at the edge of the room, his eyes overcast in a cold, emotionless haze. Ready for command. Empty of the needs and desire that made him human. Portraying the shadow from his past he was so desperate to escape.

Slowly, you shifted your weight on heels sharp enough to pierce skin. The clothes Zemo had dressed you in were unforgiving, exposing every dip and curve on your body, though you supposed that was his intention. You were meant assume the role of a wealthy arms dealer known only as Lilith, a woman whose reputation for the bedrooms of Madripoor outweighed even that of the weapons at her disposal. An affinity for the finer things in life, Zemo had snickered to himself. Sex, drugs, and power.

Bucky’s eyes shifted to the floor near your feet. You could tell he was watching you from his peripherals though his expression remained vacant. It was shocking to see him like this again, worse that he seemed to fall back into the role of the Winter Soldier so easily – like he’d never truly believed he could put his past to rest at all.

Zemo paced at the center of the room, discussing terms while Selby lounged on the couch. Her brazen comfort in a room of powerful agents on the dark market told you she had more leverage than any of you anticipated. You felt for the slight weight of the gun strapped at your thigh, keeping careful watch of the guards stationed just outside the door. The four of you were easily outnumbered and outgunned, even with Bucky throwing himself back to the Winter Soldier.

Sam caught your eye across the room, his face stern enough to communicate his uncertainty. He didn’t trust Zemo anymore than you did. The man was responsible for dozens of deaths, including the King of Wakanda, and he’d done the Avengers no favors by planting a seed of war between the most powerful people on the planet. You tried not to follow Sam's gaze when his eyes flickered to Bucky, a softening in his brow to see months of progress virtually erased within seconds.

“What’s the offer?” Selby’s voice broke through the haze. You hadn’t realized how focused you’d been on Bucky until you began to notice the music thumping through the walls and the scent of stale beer lining the floors – a disorienting state amongst precious stole artifacts and original paintings.

Zemo stood from his chair, crossing the room. He picked up a relic from the center table, admiring the shiny copper edges as he tossed it in the air. It nearly slipped from his grip and he shuttered out an apologetic wince at Selby before placing it back on the table. You rolled your eyes.

Adjusting the fur lined collar of his jacket, Zemo circled the edges of the room. He came to a pause over Bucky’s shoulder, gaze slowly trailing down his frame, tracing over the lines on Bucky's face as if he were studying for imperfections. A sinister smirk curled at his lips before he turned back to Selby.

“Tell us what you know about the super soldier serum,” Zemo bargained, waiting for her interest to peak before he continued. She shifted in her seat; a brow raised. His lips curved in a devious grin enough to make your stomach twist. “And we’ll give you him. Along with the code words to control him, of course.”

Bucky didn’t so much as flinch, his stare maintaining the same emptiness you saw the day on the bridge when he’d been muzzled by his captors and made to be a weapon. Nothing in his expression gave way to whatever was going through his mind and part of you wondered if he’d allowed himself so far into this role again, that he’d embraced the cold arms of the numbness it carried. It was easier than allowing himself to feel any of the rage that was rapidly boiling under your skin, you supposed.

But then, Zemo’s knuckles grazed at Bucky’s cheek. Lingering over unshaven stubble, a shadow along his jaw. A delicate touch though it seemed to burn as if steam could rise from the contact alone.

Zemo turned, grinning at Selby. “He will do anything you want.”

It was so impossibly subtle, you weren’t sure anyone else had noticed, but Bucky’s jaw clenched. The muscle shifted the shadows on his face, his breathing coming to a stop as his chest no longer carried the steady rise and fall under layers of leather and Kevlar. Zemo’s hand moved along Bucky’s jaw, fingers dangerously close to his lips, and you felt for the outline of the gun strapped to your thigh.

"Anything?" Selby inquired. Her tone was even though her eyes widened just enough, the dark of her pupils expanding as she glanced over Bucky's frame.

"When he is properly activated, the Soldier is incredibly–" Zemo paused, tapping the edge of Bucky's chin, "–eager to please. There's nothing else inside that brain of his except his mission. What that mission is, is entirely up to whoever recites the triggers."

“Fascinating,” Selby grinned as she slowly stood from her perch.

You followed her stride with every agonizing step towards Bucky. Just as she crossed in front of The Smiling Tiger, Sam’s gaze met yours. He narrowed his eyes, the slight shake in his head barely noticeable. He must have seen you reach for your gun – an instinct to protect Bucky from the demons of his past, a tangible weapon you hadn't been able to use against the monsters in his sleep. It took every ounce of your strength to relax away from the comforting metal.

You watched as Selby’s eyes roamed over Bucky – hungry, and like a vulture, she licked her lips. As she began to circle his frame, gaze trailing down from his shoulders, to his thighs, down to his feet, never once daring to meet his eyes, you found yourself inching closer. Bucky’s hand curled into a fist so tight his nails broke skin in his right hand, blood prickling at his palm. And still—his expression remained stoic, unfeeling. A paralyzing thought crossed your mind and you questioned if this dance was a familiar one – the art of being sold to another human being.

Selby paused as she faced him; examining the features on his face as if he were something other than human – a prize to be won, a possession to own, a trophy to show off.

“And he’s still in working condition? After all these years?” she inquired toward Zemo, standing so dangerously close to Bucky. His stare focused straight ahead, far beyond the wall across the room as if he could burn holes into the plaster.

"He's quite impressive," Selby murmured. Slowly, her hand reached towards his face.

Your grip was around her wrist before anyone realized you’d crossed the room. She flinched, startled by the vice-like hold wrapped around her wrist and a pained sort of whine escaped. She flexed her fingers and still, you held your ground.

“Is there a problem, Lilith?” Selby smirked, curiosity glaring as her eyes flickered between you and Bucky. You said nothing and yet, her lips parted in understanding. “Oh, I see. You control him. Don’t you, dear? He belongs to you.”

You tasted bile on your tongue – the very thought of owning Bucky as if his agency was not even in question made you sick to your stomach. Your grip tightened on Selby’s wrist and you would have broken it clean in two if you had the strength for it. But one look at Zemo and the cautious gaze upon his face, and you forced yourself to swallow back the venom in your mouth. You didn’t allow the disgust to touch your features or the shame to burn hot into your neck. Lilith would not be fazed by the selling of a weapon—even if that weapon were a man with heart so heavy, so full and so kind, he could hardly carry its burden on his own.

“Make your deal, Selby,” you hissed in an accident belonging to the weapons dealer you portrayed, “then, you can play with your toy. Until we have our intel, hands off the product.”

You released Selby’s wrist and she stepped back a few paces. She slid her left hand over the red marks forming over her skim, gingerly massaging at the area and still – the grin did not falter from her cheeks. Impressed, intrigued. She seemed inclined to ask you more about your bond to the Winter Soldier when you stepped in front of Bucky, blocking her view as she unabashedly stared down her hopeful new possession. Sam and Zemo exchanged a glance, though their expressions did not carry the weight their eyes did.

Behind you, you could hear Bucky exhale a heavy a breath, could practically feel as his fists released to be out of the woman’s eye line. It was short lived, of course, as all things in Madripoor were. A gunshot pierced through the window and lodged itself into Selby’s head.

***

You woke with a sudden start, the sticky smell of stale beer still on your skin as you jolted up on an unfamiliar bed. The room was vaguely a blur thanks to the pounding ache in the back of your head, but you could see enough to know it was not a place you recognized. To your left, the bed was untouched; sheets perfectly pressed as if they’d never been laid in at all. Glancing down, you saw you were still wearing the dress from the club, makeup smeared over your face and onto the pillows. You brushed at your cheeks to remove the mascara stains.

At the end of the bed, laid a fresh pair of clothes. Blue jeans and a black pullover. You sighed, pressing a hand over the soft fabric and bringing it to your face. It smelled of lavender and vanilla – fresh and inviting compared to the sweaty stale air of the night club.

The night before was mostly a blur. You didn’t remember much after Selby was killed; only Bucky’s hands on your waist, pulling you back towards the door as you tried to locate the shooter. You’d kicked off your heels and sprinted next to him in your bare feet – a man who could challenge the speed of moving vehicles and he was running in line with you and Sam while gunshots reined from every direction. Self-preservation was not a concept in Bucky’s vocabulary.

Your feet were bloodied by the time you caught your breath again and within the impossibly small moment you took to pause, an assailant had knocked you out from behind. Cold darkness. Instantaneously. After that, you could only catch vague memories of Bucky lifting you into his arms and Sharon Carter’s voice. But you hadn’t seen Sharon in years. Not since the aftermath of Vienna. The theory didn’t make much sense.

You felt along the dresser for your gun, only to find it empty. With a tired groan, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, hoping you could find Bucky or Sam before you found trouble. Your feet were wrapped in bandages carrying a slight pink color on the soles – courteous of Zemo’s ridiculous heels you’d left behind the chaos and the mile worth of pavement you’d run barefoot on.

The chill of the hardwood floors was a relief on the undersides of your feet, but you hadn’t accounted for the dizziness from your concussion to take over once you stood. The room went dark and you began to sway, trying to feel for the bed behind you, when suddenly you hard footsteps rushing into the room.

“Hey, hey, what are you doing out of bed?” Bucky’s arms wrapped at your waist, holding you steady. He guided you back to the bed, helping you to sit on the edge as you regained your vision. He sat down beside you, keeping a hand on your arm to help ground you as you focused on the permanence of the room, the sturdiness of solid ground.

“What happened?” you sighed, pressing your palms to your eyes. Your head was still ringing from the blow you took the night before. When you finally allowed yourself to adjust to the sunlight in the room, you turned to face Bucky. He was dressed in a plan black t-shirt and jeans; his Winter Soldier attire hung in the corner of the room.

“Sharon happened,” Bucky chuckled with a short shake of his head. You thought you might be surprised at his answer, and somehow, you weren’t at all. Bucky softened, his fingers brushing at the hem of your dress. “You should change into something more comfortable. Sharon left some clothes for you but um... you were pretty out of it last night and I didn’t want to... um...”

“Thank you, Bucky.” You smiled at him as you placed your hand on top of his. You squeezed at his fingers, curling under his palm against your thigh. For a moment, you nearly lost yourself in the sunlit reflection of blue within his eyes – the delicate intricacies of a complex man. So impossibly sweet and kind in the daylight; cold as stone in the night under the guise of the Winter Soldier.

Bucky helped you to stand, giving you time to adjust to the sting of healing wounds on the soles of your feet. He turned his back to give you privacy, though he kept close enough that you could grab hold of his shoulder for support. He pushed the clothes down the bed for you to reach easily.

Slowly, ignoring the ache in your body, you slid the zipper down your spine, letting the dress fall to a heap at your feet. You tried not to notice how Bucky’s shoulders tightened at the sound, his stance a little less balanced at the fallen fabric. Gingerly, you dressed yourself in the jeans and pullover Sharon had provided for you, trying to stifle a wince as you shifted on your feet. Bucky’s head tilted at your whimper, his instinct fighting to turn to you, to help you, but he held himself still.

When you were done, you reached for the necklace at your bedside, one you hadn’t worn on the mission but you carried it with you wherever you went – the last token you had of a distant life before the Avengers. Sam had kept it in his pocket in Madripoor.

“Would you mind?” you called softly, tapping a hand against Bucky’s shoulder. He turned cautiously, almost timid in his movements, and you smiled at him as he held his hand out. The delicate gold chain dropped into his palm – a beautiful contrast to the black metal, in mirror to the detailing work along his shoulder.

Before you could turn your back to him, Bucky stepped closer. He held each side of the necklace in his hands and brought them around the back of your neck. This close, you could smell the bar soap he’d used that morning, you could see the lines of scruff along his jaw he hadn’t been able to shave.

When he clasped the chain, he stepped back slowly, but only enough to admire his work. He brushed your hair away from your collar, a ghosted smile on his lips at he touched the pendent at the center. This wonderful, beautiful man who learned to find comfort in touch again, who sought you out when it felt impossible to reclaim that part of him. Memory of the night before etched into your mind and you swallowed back the lump in your throat.

“Bucky?”

He smiled a little wider, focused on tracing his fingers along your jaw, brushing away your hair. “Yeah?”

“Do you want to talk about last night?”

Bucky paused, his touch upon you skin turning near to stone before he pulled away. The smile he’d worn slowly faded from his lips, the cold rush of reality piercing through the tender moment, and you hated yourself for being the cause of such pain. Bucky sighed, sinking down onto the bed, his hands gripped tight to the edge of the mattress.

“Not sure there’s much to say, doll,” Bucky exhaled.

You sat beside him, close enough for your thigh to brush in line with his. He looked down at the little space between you, his eyes fluttered closed at the contact – the grounding sensation of welcomed touch.

“You're not him anymore, Bucky,” you said softly, setting your hand over his own. “No one is ever going to control you or... or own you again, okay? They can’t make you do anything you don’t want to... not anymore. You’re free. You know that, don’t you?”

Bucky nodded, though it was slow, almost aching. He squeezed at your hand, pushing out a pained smile as he looked at you. “I do.”

You reached towards him with your free hand, cupping the side of his cheek where Zemo had touched him the night before. You traced your thumb over his jaw line, tingling over the short hairs on his skin. So beautiful and lovely after decades suffering under the hands of cruel men.

“You know I’d kill anyone who tried, right?”

Bucky chuckled at that and you were grateful to see the lines by his eyes again, the smile pushing bright into his cheeks. “Yeah, sweetheart. I know that, too.”

He leaned forward a pressed a kiss to your temple. Short and lingering and not nearly long enough. But it was welcomed and warm and enough.

—

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[owlish-owlhouse]

May I have some headcannons with golden guard who has a vampire S/O fluffy please

~ Your family has served Emperor Belos for generations and as such you've known Hunter since you were both very small. You both don't have many freedoms with your restricted roles but Emperor Belos and your parents agree being friends (possibly more in the future) is beneficial for both lineages and they allow you to be kids together.

~ As a vampire you are well versed in illusion magic, oracle magic, healing magic, and beast keeping magic. You can do other magic as well but genetically those four have always been apart of you and are where your most powerful spells come from.

~ You are not older than Belos being a very young vampire but your kind is much older than his rule and the magics in vampires are ancient and wild. Your family keeps many secrets buried in the past in exchange for saftey and being able to practice their traditions away from prying eyes. They work outside of Beloses laws and silence anyone who would challenge the Emperor.

~ You and Hunter at first don't want to be friends. After all your young rebellious kids who would rather make friends their own way than have their families interfer. But you both find you have many things in common. Reading about ancient wild magic, learning the origins of the isle, general history, weapons training, and things like that quickly spark a kinship between the two of you.

~ You love studying old texts and scrolls in secret with Hunter. You have books that are ancient, far older than Beloses rule and sharing them with someone feels special. Your family is meant to keep secrets but Hunter is someone you could never keep secrets from. Besides what doenst hurt Emperor Belos or your parents won't hurt the two of you.

~ You often had sleepovers as kids before you got serious. You and Hunter would make a pillow fort on his bed before you'd hide under the sheets with a lamp. You'd spend all night reading things very few ever got the chance too. You'd do your own studies about wild magic in secret and together you were determined to find a cure for Emperor Belos and find a way for Hunter to do magic. He may be a magicless witch but out of everyone on the Isles he deserved magic the most. On his tenth birthday after his party you both made a binding vow in your pillow fort to never stop looking for answers. Ever.

~ As you get older Hunter is focused on the Emperors coven while your focused on learning your Clans magic. You hardly have time for each other as your teen years go by and you almost never see each other unless it's at a family function or Emperors Coven celebration. Sleepovers start occuring less and your late night study sessions that were once every night are barley once a month. Alone time during the day almost becomes non existent and your both worried about drifting apart. It's stressful. Your both to be the next sucessors in your line and its a lot of responsibility for teenagers who have never really lived. Thankfully despite everything you still have each other and your magic promise. Through it all you remain close with letters, crow calls, gifts, and secret messages you leave to each other.

~ As time goes on you both realize you want more than a friendship and begin forming a relationship. At first it's kept a secret but as time goes on it seems everyone somehow knows despite you being discreet and their all fine with it. Your even allowed to go on dates outside of work and get the occasional break you both desperately need. Your parents and the Emperor have apprentally been expecting this for a long time and actually push you two to spend time with each other when their busy.

~ Hunter is very much a gentleman in everything about the relationship. He may have been raised by Belos who is less than cordial but Hunter has been taught respect and how to treat partners. He opens doors for you, pulls out your chair and pushes it in, pays for most outtings, gets gifts, and remembers important dates in the relationship. He really is a romantic at heart and when he's around you he becomes a different person. Very kind and considerate and always looking out for you. That sass is still there but around you its only to tease not to hurt or demean.

~ He loves getting you flowers. Flowers are his go too. Whenever he sees them around the castle they make him happy and whenever he gives them too you your face lights up which makes him more happy. He gets other gifts too like chocolates, pretty jewelry, books, antiques, and various trinkets but he loves flowers the most. He even teaches you to dry them so you can keep them forever. (You occasionally find pressed ones in your books along with little messages or poems from Hunter)

~ Dates are very important to Hunter. He's a bit of a perfectionist and wants you to have an amazing time. Dates can be simple and small but they must be meaningful. Hes taken you to fancy restaurants, danced with you under the stars, watched movies, done library/study dates, taken you to the carnival, snuck you away on missions, and bought you both concert tickets. Anything he can think of that's fun or will leave lasting memories is something he plans on trying and hes always full of surprises.

~ Hunter is very good at the guitar. He's always had an interest in music and if he wasn't in his uncle's coven he may have ended up as a bard. He enjoys humming and quietly singing to himself but he mostly expresses himself through his guitar. If you sing while he plays his heart would melt. He'd also be super interested in teaching you guitar if you were up for it. (If you want him to sing you to sleep over the crow/crystal ball he just might but he gets kind if embarassed about it. He'll strum you a song if it helps you doze off though)

~ Hunter loves taking long walks with you. He wouldn't call it a date but sometimes it almost feels like one. As a vampire you can walk in the Boiling rain without so much as a hiss in pain but sunlight makes you incredibly sensitive and uncomfortable without the right precautions. He carrys around a silk umbrella and as he walks next to you he makes sure you don't get burned. If you get caught in a sudden sunny day after lowcast clouds blow away and he doesn't have the umbrella on him, he'll take off his cape and drape it around you to keep you safe.

~ As you both get older its obvious Hunter does not have much magic that is his own. There is magic inside him but he can't access it. Almost as if somethings blocking him from his magic despite the fact its there. You are so happy when Belos gives him his staff. You've been his friend much longer than his partner, but now that you are his partner your both inseparable. His cermony and indoctrination into the Emperors Coven with his own staff is small and not a large celebration but you make sure he knows how proud of him you are. He has to clean his mask because you leave smudges all over it from giving him kisses.

~ Lots of excursions. You and Hunter obey Belos and your parents of course but sometimes you'll take extra time on a mission for yourselves or mess around with the time charts so you can go do something together.

~ He's not huge on PDA simply because he has to keep his professional attitude around others. But Hunters is a fan of touch when your alone. So be prepared for lots of cuddling, handholding, forehead kisses, cheek/nose kisses, normal kisses, stroking your face, touching your arm, anything goes. He really likes touch and isn't used to receiving it so he gets really happy when he just gets to just relax with you.

~ You both have red eyes. Its not even that funny but for some reason it cracks you up. The reddish Magneta hue of his eyes reminds you of a dhamphir so you call him your little halfling in private. He has a million nicknames for you and you have to admit their all more clever than anything you could ever do. Which is why you love them.

~ Vampires don't need as much sleep as witches and since Hunter has bad insomnia you often spend long nights with each other cuddled close as you talk about a little of everything. Often wild magic is where the discussion goes but history, philosophy, psychology, and demon mythology are also popular topics. Making jokes and telling stories as you try and settle for the night always happen as well.

~ He's happier around you and your happier around him. Your friendship may have started from your parents pushing it but it was your love for each other that made the relationship thrive. Together your going to change the Boiling Isles.

[therealpussybangs]

When you find out the Haikyuu boys cheated.. Pt. 2

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Starring:    Timeskip!Aone, Goshiki, Kita, Lev                                                          

A/N- Tw: Cheating, crying, yelling, fighting, mentions of sexual-    intercourse, swearing, please let me know if i missed anything!!  

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Aone-

                Today was supposed to be your 4th year anniversary with your amazing boyfriend Aone. However, that date idea had quickly turned to shit when you see your boyfriend at a booth with some other chick.

You didn’t want to jump to conclusions, because you were exceptionally early to this date, so you walk over, hoping it was a sister or some other relative. 

But when you finally made it over to the table, your boyfriend looked like he had seen a ghost. Pale, scared, and he looked sick. The thing that hurt the most was the guilt swimming in his eyes. Eyes that were once only for you. Eyes that were always warm and welcoming, the eyes that felt like home. His once beautiful and bright eyes were now dulled, guilty and scared.

Aone felt like he couldn’t move. He was stuck in his chair when he saw you. 

‘Our date isn’t for another 20 minutes... how could this happen...?’ He thinks to himself. Then he remembers what you had said earlier about being early for the special today. He curses under his breath and opens his mouth to make excuses, but that’s when he hears a sniffle.

He reluctantly looks up to see you crying, and swiping at your eyes wildly. His heart shatters and sinks to the floor and he immediately knows he shouldn’t lie, it’ll only make it worse.

“Baby i’m so sorry....” He looks down, not ready to hear your reply.                     “Was i not good enough..? What should I have done differently..?” You say in a small, hurt voice.

“No! I-” He was cut off by the other girl sitting in front of him.

“Bubs who’s this ugly little girl? She a friend of yours? Or what..she kinda smells a little..” She says in a squeaky, bratty voice.

“Oh, haha; i’m actually his soon to be ex-girlfriend! So nice to meet you!! And so nice to leave you ‘bubs’!” You say with a fake smile, and filled with sarcasm. 

“Babe- do-” Aone started quietly, he always was so quiet and reserved. But he seemed so talkative with this new girl....

“By Aone! Bye bitch I don’t know!” You say oh so confidently, until you go to itch your eyes. ‘oh... tears..’ You began to cry harder as you realize you just left the one thing you loved most.

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Goshiki-

 You and Tsutomu had been pretty distant after a fight you two had, and you wanted to go over and apologize to him because you realized you were in the wrong. 

However, what you did not expect was to see another car parked outside of your shared home.

This fight you both had was because of some silly coworker jokingly hitting on you. You had known this person since you were little, so it was nothing new. They were also fully aware of the fact that you were in a committed relationship with Tsutomu. 

So, who could be at his house? Was he really hurt enough to call a friend or relative for help/advice? Now you felt really bad, so you quickly make your way up the steps to your shared home and push past the door. 

What you did not expect to hear, were muffled whimpers and Goshiki’s smooth, calming voice. ‘Wh-what?’ You think maybe it was something else, maybe it was Goshiki whimpering and sniffling and someone else sweet talking him. But once you walk into your bedroom....you shut down.

“B..baby,,?” You ask, voice small. You were shaking and trying your best to keep your cool and hold back the tears threatening to spill. “Whats going on..?”

Goshiki immediately whips his head around from where it was buried between someone elses thighs. But when he sees your hurt eyes and sad features guilt pools at the bottom of his stomach. He was with someone else, on your shared bed, in your shared home. This realization suddenly hit him like a brick, and he immediately shot straight up. “I-I can explain!!” 

“Explain what? The fact you were pleasuring some random whore on our bed?? What else is there to explain Tsut- Goshiki?” You yell back, the tears from before finally breaking the barrier and streaming down your face.

Goshiki just stood there, shaken up and regretful, not daring to say a word, knowing it will make things worse. But you persisted and asked him again why he did it and he started to get annoyed with your yelling. “I was angry with your stupid fucking co-worker for flirting with you and smacking your ass and always eating lunch with you!! I wanted you to know how it felt!!” He yelled back, without thinking. Bad idea.

You were speechless to say the least. He did not just compare cheating to harmless banter between friends...did he? He didn’t just call your absolute bestfriend stupid...did he?

“Get out. Both of you.” You say, your tone stone cold.

“What..” Your ex says, his voice small and shaky, almost as if it was any louder it would shatter you.

“GET OUT!! NOW!!” You say, now yelling as warm, fat tears stream down your face. You were furious, deflated, tired, and so, so done. You thought you were going to be sick. You had trusted him, and here he was, with a beautiful woman, probably 10x better than you. And to think you were going to apologize to him.

“Baby... we can fix this! right? Move forward!” He says, not so confident or angry this time.

“What, so you can go off with some other bitch as soon as the going gets tough again? No. We’re over. Goodbye Goshiki, please don’t try to contact me, i’ll have someone come get my stuff.”

And with that, you slammed the door and walked out of the place you one called home. 

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Kita-

Kita was a simple man. He wanted 2 things in life: A family with you, and his rice fields to do well.

However he did not take it very well when you said you were not ready for a family, and he stormed out on you. That night you cried yourself to sleep, thinking about how you could be better.

The past month and a half, you and Kita have been pretty distant, and you have been preparing yourself for a family in any way you can. For example: Finishing the last of your extra studies, learning how to make extra delicious meals, even though Kita wasn’t ever there to try them, and you even started looking into parenting books. You just wanted to be the perfect wife for him.

So one day you waited for him to come home, ready to tell him the big news; you were ready to start a family. So when he finally got back, you told him!

“Babe! I think i’m ready for a family! With you!” You said happily and confidently. But when you saw his eyes widen in surprise, you didn’t expect them to also be oh so regretful.

“Y-you are..?” He asks, suddenly shaking. His stomach drops to the floor while his heart breaks simultaneously. You... you prepared yourself all on your own, just for him. And he knows he fucked up, getting some other girl pregnant, but he was so angry and sad he just.... it just... happened.

Just then, he gets a call, from the one person he really did not want to talk to. The other woman he got pregnant. He was so scared to pick up the phone, so you did. He froze. ‘No..! You cant pick that up...it will ruin us..’

“Hey! Shin! The baby just kicked! I hope its a girl.... Shin..?” The girl says on the other end, happy and excited.

“wh..what?” You say, confused. “Who are you..?”

“I’m his girlfriend! Who are you silly?” She says, still bubbly.

“I-” You start, and then hang up. It could not be. He did not get another woman pregnant, he was your baby, no one else...right? You slowly look over to Kita, hoping you didn’t just hear what you think you did.

He looks down, guilt and shame washing over his built figure.

“I’m so sorry... it wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did and I can’t just leave her by herself..” He says, voice gradually getting louder.

“So.. you couldn’t just wait a little longer huh...it’s okay, I hope you two will be happy.” You walked away after that, and just then was when Kita realized he was loosing you. He panicked, and reached out for your hand, but you were already gone, into the bedroom you both shared, presumably packing.

But it’s when he sees you walk out the door, tears streaming down your face, and sobs wracking you body, that reality finally shifted. You were leaving, and he was now responsible for a child that wasn’t yours. He was mortified to say  the least.

“Bye Shin, i’ll always love you y’know.. I hope your child is as beautiful as you.”

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Lev-

Today was your birthday! And you were so excited to spend it with your beanpole boyfriend! But he hadn’t answered your texts yet, and your calls either. You understood he had a photo-shoot, but it was over hours ago, even his manager didn’t know where he was. So you decided to check his snapmap because you were genuinely worried??

But when you saw his bitmoji at an unrecognized address, you freaked out and drove there immediately.

When you got there, his car was parked in the driveway, and the lights were on inside. You could also hear the faint hum of soft music. 

Lev was always so gentle with you, and he never raised hid voice or got angry with you. You loved that about him, how soft he was. When you guys first met, he was willing to take things slow, and wait until you were both comfortable with eachother. 

He was always so patient, or so you thought. You weren’t ready for anything intimate other than kissing, and he said he was okay with that. But horny men will be horny men. 

But you at least thought he could wait a little longer for you, his girlfriend of 11 months. At least those were the thoughts that flew through your head as you walked into the mystery house.

It was Lev, laid out on a bed with silk sheets, rose petals scattered everywhere, and Champaign on the nightstand next to him. 

Well, more like next to the other woman in bed with him, dressed in red lacy lingerie and pretty makeup. The candle-light makes them both look so majestic, well they would if they both didn’t have shocked/guilty expressions on their faces. 

Lev got up immediately and tried to grab your arm, but you shrugged him off.

“I trusted you, and I loved you, I still love you! But here you are, with another woman, on my birthday. Happy fucking birthday to me i guess.”

He stood there dumbfounded as you walked out, your confident facade breaking as tears slip down your rosy cheeks. Then, you drive away, knowing things will never be the same...

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Annnnnd it’s finally out! Not proofread i’m sorry </3 Kita’s hurt the most smh

ALSOOOO don’t forget you are fucking gorgeous and ilysm pls take care of your gorgeous self!

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[subwaysurf45]

Winter Makes Ice (Ep.3)

Summary:  you’re captured after a brawl at the Avengers building, Bucky and others must save you before Hydra makes a new Winter Soldier out of you, Bucky has given up that title.

Words: 2799

Episode: Three

Warning: not much, flashbacks, talks of violence

Masterlist! Winter Makes Ice Episode: Two

Time: 1:00pm 

Date: October 2nd 2024

It didn’t take long for everyone to board the helicopter and for it to take off, no one was lounging around this morning so they assembled quickly. Bucky sat by himself on the heli, the file was still open in his hands with the page turned to Dr. Wright. Bucky looked over the information that was given; he double and triple checked. There was a car waiting for them when they were going to arrive, Bucky would get dropped off and then Steve, Nat, and Wanda would drive around Halifax but would keep watch for a distress signal. Bucky made it clear it would only be him talking to the doctor, he was practicing his script in his head. 

“Five minutes ‘till landing,” the pilot spoke into his headset, the sound went to their ears sounding like a 1940s radio show. 

“Copy,” everyone replied without unison. 

The plane got lower and lower until it touched the ground; it was a private tarmac for primarily military forces and other important people; SHIELD was always allowed to use it. Everyone got off the plane after the propellers began to slow down, Bucky had jumped off once while they were still at top speed and got flung forward but the air. The all black car stood a ways in front of them, they all took their bags and headed over. 

“What a ride…” Steve muttered as he ran his hand against the perfect hood, this car was brand new and probably had never been in the sun before. It wasn’t a low sport car but rather an everyday car that was bullet proof and decked out with an AI on the inside, no one would take a second glance at it but the four of them marveled at how this car could fit in amongst others. The black rims matched the black tires and the black paint, this was Bucky’s dream car. 

They all got in and the ride began, Steve drove while Wanda sat in the back with Bucky, Nat was in the passenger seat playing her music. Every so often Wanda would look over to Bucky, he could see her out of the corner of his eye, she’d give a sympathetic glance and maybe open her mouth as if she was about to say something but chose against it. Bucky had Dr. Wright’s address on the file sheet; he was giving directions to Steve as they drove through the colourful houses. 

They had never seen houses like this, around four to five houses lined up next to each other, each of them were painted a different colour but they looked the same. Flowers grew in little holders under the two window sills at the front of the house, tulips were the most popular, vines would grow on the side where the sun didn’t shine too much and pain would chip around the bottom of the houses. Some houses still had Halloween decorations up, red leaves scattered on the ground and blew everywhere. There was a brown hue to the world around them, pumpkins were scattered on some door steps while other people still had Christmas lights up from last year. 

Bucky tapped Steve’s head rest and the car slowed to a stop, they looked out to their left to see a house that looked like it belonged to the community. It wasn’t modern and square with sleek grey tiles on the outside, it was old and run down. A ghost hung from the single garage light, one pumpkin was sitting on the doorstep. This house didn’t look like one of a nazi group member, nevermind just a person with their doctorate.

Tons of leaves crunched under Bucky’s combat boots, the road was littered with them, it made it seem like it was a red and yellow road. He looked both ways as he crossed even though no cars were on the road except for the military grade undercover car, Bucky looked over his shoulder to see Wanda waving. They were going to head to a farmers market in this town to pass the time, and Bucky would walk over there when he was done. He gave a thumbs up and the car drove away and down the street, he didn’t watch to see it disappear, Bucky only had one thing on his mind and it wasn’t some apple pies Wanda was looking for. 

The driveway looked new as well as the cobblestone walkway, one car was in the driveway and it looked to match the house, no crazy sports car. There was a screen door before an actual green wooden door, Bucky pulled back the screen and didn’t bother with the doorbell, he banged on the door. When he pulled his fist away there was a flake of green paint on his middle finger’s knuckle, a quick swipe and it was gone. Bucky stood back because he saw that in the movies, his back turned to the door as he looked out to the town. It was a lovely day, most people were probably at this farmer’s market, Bucky had never been to one even though you had offered to take him. 

His head whipped back at the door opening, the same man, but only older, opened the door. He looked tired and worn out, this was probably his last Halloween. The cane he was holding was shaking in his grip, the other hand gripped the side of the door extremely tight. You could see the white through the speckled skin. 

“What can I help you with, son?” the old man spoke with a smile, he licked his gums. A Canadian accent seemed almost cartoon-ish. 

Bucky froze as he looked at this man, the sight of him brought him back to his nightmares and everything he’d been through. The name ‘son’ rolled off this man’s tongue and down Bucky’s spine and sent a shiver running all through him, it was obvious this man didn’t know who Bucky was. Bucky almost felt bad that he was bothering him, it was obvious he wasn’t a walker and standing seemed to be his exercise for the day, but at the same time Bucky couldn’t help but think about all the ways he could rip this doctor apart. 

“Son?” the name came again. 

Bucky looked up with a shake of his head, “hello, are you Dr. Wright?” he asked quietly. 

“Yes it is, what do you need?” he didn’t seem freaked out that Bucky knew his name, it was a small town. 

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes,” Bucky started but the man didn’t seem to figure it out, “I am the Winter Soldier- used to be actually…” Bucky added. 

“Are you here to kill me?” the man’s voice shook, “because if you really are him then you have every right to do so,” he stepped back and opened the door for Bucky to walk in. 

“I’m here to talk, you’re not going to die.” Bucky walked in and kicked off his combat boots, he’d heard it’s a thing in Canada to take your shoes off in the house. He also heard there was bagged milk which didn’t make any sense to him, but he wasn’t about to argue. 

“That’s always good to hear, eh?” the accent slipped out again, it was weird for Bucky to see this man who haunted him just laughing. “Would you like some hot chocolate?” Dr. Wright asked as he made his way into the kitchen. 

His house was small, not many walls as one room just faded into another. Knick-knacks littered shelves and tables, everything brought a homey feel to it all, the house was very lived in. “No thanks,” Bucky waved up a hand to signal no. 

The doctor came and sat across from him, Bucky was sitting on a chair while Dr. Wright took the sofa, they both were wrapped in plastic. It made a squeaky sound when either of them moved but it didn’t seem to bother the doctor at all, Bucky one final time before swearing he wasn’t going to move again and hear that annoying sound. Both of Bucky’s hands were clasped in front of him, he felt too large and bulky for this petite chair, his fingers fiddled with each other. He’d pick and poke at the massive gloves he wore, his long sleeve was covering everything he needed. 

“So, Dr. Wright-”

“Jacob, son,” he corrected, “though I am a doctor,” Jacob hesitated, “I go by Jacob.”

“Is that your real first name?” Bucky asked, he was met with a smile and nod, “then call me Bucky, please.” Bucky smiled back, there was a growing tension between the both of them but they chose to ignore it. 

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.” Jacob seemed to relax at the name, he was scared of Bucky and Bucky could tell. This man had seen Bucky train for years on end, and Jacob knew what the Winter Soldier was capable of. “What do you need to talk to me about?” his cane rested beside him, his hand found its way there and just held it. 

“I need to talk to you about Hydra, any information you have on the Iceland base- or any base in Halifax, Iceland, Greenland, and there’s one more…” Bucky brought a gloved hand to his stubbled chin, the leather making a rough noise when it brushed against the facial hair. “Oh! It was Newfoundland, anything you knew about those four places.” 

Jacob thought for a moment, he didn’t have stubble to rub. Though he was old it was obvious he still thought that it was the old days, hair slicked back and a very fresh shave, facial hair wasn’t allowed unless you had grown it out in private. Bucky had always remembered Howard Stark’s mustache; he couldn’t picture him without it. 

“I mean, I was just a scientist, I ran labs and tested things on animals. I didn’t come up with the world ending plans, I was never told the reason for what I was doing, I was just told to do it.” Jacob sounded worried, “when I used to work for Hydra I was worried for my life everyday, they were so paranoid all the time that someone could be a rat. If you said ‘hail Hydra’ a little too quietly then you’d have a bullet between your eyes, I just kept my head down and did what I was told.” Jacob’s hand got increasingly tighter on the handle of his cane. 

“Was there something new they were working on?” Bucky asked, and he pulled out a little flip book to keep track. 

“I quit a total of ten years ago, when I was seventy-one, the only thing they were thinking of was keeping you in their grasp, there was no other plan.” Jacob shrugged, “Hydra couldn’t see a life source without you, they never intended on losing you the way they did.” 

“So you have no idea what they could possibly be working on, at all?” the hope Bucky had was falling, this was the only lead they knew and if all he could say was there was never a plan B, you were screwed.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I really want to help, but I just don’t know.” Jacob stood and walked back to the kitchen. He filled a glass of water and grabbed three pills from a container before heading back over to his seat. 

“Out of the four places I mentioned, Iceland, Greenland, Halifax, and Newfoundland,” Bucky paused and watched Jacob mutter them to himself and then take the pills, “which one is the strongest?”

Jacob swallowed his pills with water, “Iceland.” without any hesitation, no second guess, nothing giving away he was lying for didn’t know. “Iceland was hell for me, it has the best of the best for agents, scientists, and…” he glanced out the window, “cells and tourture.” 

Bucky shot up right away, he headed to the door. Jacob followed him, glass still in his hand. When Bucky was about to leave Jacob placed a hand on his shoulder. When Bucky turned back around the hand traveled along the center of his chest, “I'm not wired, Jacob.” Bucky eased. 

“Some things just come second nature, son.” Jacob kept his head down, “y’know, I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I was making my old man proud, but I never stopped to realize what I was doing was actually wrong.” Jacob looked up with glossy eyes, “I actually wanted to find you at some point because I know I was the one who woke you up last, I remember clearly the way you looked, right then, I knew I needed to leave that place.” Jacob shuffled over and stood completely square to Bucky, Bucky just looked down at Jacob with a face of horror. The man Bucky saw every night was crying and apologizing to him, he didn’t know anyone who worked with Hydra had a heart. “I’m sorry for everything I did to you,” Jacob reached in his back pocket, he had placed the glass of water on a side table. “Here, take some money-”

“No, none of that, Jacob, really,” Bucky held his hands out, “you’re forgiven, don’t worry about all that, I just need to find someone.” Bucky reached for the door. 

“What do you mean?” Jacob fished in his wallet. 

“Hydra stole my girlfriend, I think she's in Iceland.” Bucky’s eyebrows knitted together at Jacob who was given him a coin. 

“I think you’re right,” Jacob dropped the coin in Bucky’s palm before closing the door, the screen door creaked as it shut quickly with the wind. 

Time: 2:33pm

Date: October 2nd 2024

Steve, Nat, and Wanda were walking around on the closed road, stands of every fruit and pastry lined the streets. Wanda was on top of the moon, she had a tote bag with some apple turnovers in them, that was really all she wanted. Nat had actually bought something too, Steve was genuinely surprised when Nat bought some earrings from a vendor, they were very small and dainty moons that would go in her ear lobes. Steve didn’t buy anything but just liked walking around, there was a lot to see but in a good way, no screens or jumbotrons, just people being people. 

As Bucky made eye contact with Steve, Steve’s phone rang. Nat and Wanda rushed up to Bucky and were asking how it went, but the unknown caller was what Steve was focusing on. 

“Steve Rogers,” Steve lowered his voice. 

“Captain Rogers,” an all too familiar voice hit his ear. 

“King T’Challa?” Steve turned his back to the group. 

“We have three Hydra agents in custody, they tried to take out my sister,” his accent flowed and bounced as he talked.

“Keep them in the cells, we’re on our way.” 

“Will there be more of them?” T’Challa asked before he could hang up. 

“I don’t know, but hold them and don’t kill them, they might be our only hope.” Steve said his goodbyes and hung up. 

When he turned back to Bucky and the rest of them, they seemed scared, Bucky had overheard Steve’s call, super hearing, and was looking at him weird. 

“What was that?” Bucky asked. 

“King T’Challa, says there was an attempted hit on Shuri, doesn’t know where they came from but they want her.” Steve shoved his phone in his back pocket, “what did you find?” 

Bucky just held up a silver coin, “we’re going to Iceland.” 

“We need to go to Wakanda,” Steve stepped forward. 

“Not all four of us,” Nat pulled everyone aside from the farmer’s market, “I’ll go with Steve to Wakadna, you go with Wanda to Iceland. We’ll be talking and before you ambush the Hydra base in Iceland we’ll confirm y/n is in there, deal?” She looked to the other three. 

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

Winter Makes Ice tag list: @small-death-and-codeine​ @commonintrest​ @buckyys-doll​  @lil-baby-nor

let me know if you want a tag!

[shivada-jade]

songs of a siren

characters: venti, beidou, kazuha, albedo ➡ mention(s): xiangling, ningguang, sucrose, timaeus, peepaw warning(s): yo ho ho me hearties

note: whenever i write venti, i always have 27 tabs of rhymezone opened up. my rhyming vocabulary will be unstoppable in a few weeks time. no one can stop me, it will be sublime

Venti:

Venti has seen many things in his free-spirited life. He's seen many different lives and creatures, but something he has never seen before are the fabled sirens of the sea.

"Beware of the sirens!" The old captains of Teyvat warned, "Their music is captivating and will drown you into sea."

"Music?" The bard asks with sparkling eyes.

The old sea captain squints her eyes. "Bard, do you have selective hearing? The sirens will drown you in sea."

Venti laughs, "But I've never heard of singing sirens! Just sirens. I wish to see one."

"Younglings these days," the captain shakes her head, tipping her chair back just enough so she wouldn't fall.

"I'm actually older than I look, you can see me in many books," he chuckles, hopping off the table right outside of Angel's Share.

"Thank you for your sea tips captain!" He says, tipping his hat in a bow with a hand behind his back. "I'll put it to jolly good use. With your knowledge, I'll make sure nothing bad will happen!"

Venti sneakily snatches an apple from a sleeping person's hand and saunters on his way, whistling a few notes.

"Sirens of the Sea will be my next tune!"

Everyday, Venti comes out playing his lyre to the sea, hoping he would be able to hear someone sing back. He made his winds carry his song to the deepest part of the waters, trying to catch the attention of sirens.

And everyday, he would return to the tavern, fruitless as the patrons pat his back singing a drunken song.

The young adults nearby would shake their heads, kindly telling Venti that sirens are not real. The grandparents' eyes would twinkle when they heard Venti playing the song for the sirens while kids would sit next to Venti who played his lyre at the docks.

His green cape flew back as he played a different style of music, one that's more mellow and calm compared to the upbeat kind he plays so often. There, he swears he sees the flip of a tail far beyond the ocean.

He bid farewell to the children and apologize for not being to able to play more music for them. "I'll be back if you bring apples!"

Venti waves goodbye and walks out the exits of Mondstadt.

His legs brush the long grass, reaching to touch his hand as he hikes up Starsnatch Cliff, until he remembers he can fly. Oops.

Swirls of teal lift his feet, representing the winds carrying him to the top. The blue of the sky reflected on the waters, and he decides today is the perfect day to sing for his siren again.

Letting his lashes rest on his cheeks, he plays the same mellow tune at the docks, sometimes peeking with one eye to see if the siren is there.

That's when he hears it. The sound of a loud splash ringing in his ear. His lyre playing turns quick and exited, when looking down to see a bobbing head, and a colourful siren tail behind it.

Venti waves his hand wildly, stopping his lyre playing momentarily.

"A real siren!"

The siren freezes, and sinks a bit deeper in the water. The green bard slowly floats down with a friendly smile.

"Did you enjoy my music?" He asks in glee, waiting for an answer. Venti hovers right above the water so his clothes won't get wet. He sees the siren's eyes look at the instrument in his hand and pushes it to their face, making them lean back a bit from shock. "Do you wanna try the lyre?"

"The lyre?" The siren repeats, gliding a finger on the wood of the instrument.

"Just don't sing okay? I can't drown yet, my pride is still high, and the kids there would be in dismay."

The siren laughs, now gripping on the lyre, "Do you always speak like this?"

"Yep!" He says, relieved you feel comfortable with him and seem friendly too. He scratches the back of his head. "Although... you're taking this lightly. Is it true your singing drowns people?" He asks politely.

The tip of the siren's finger touches their lip, thinking. "Well, in some cases, it does."

Venti's eyes widen.

"But not in the way your folktale mention it!" The siren continues, now clasping on the lyre that Venti let go of, playing a few strings. "Sometimes when our folk sing, the sailors are curious where the singing comes from. But the sailor that spread the story of the deadly, singing sirens is The Sailor That Can't Swim."

"The Sailor That Can't Swim? Now that's a tale I need to hear! Though, I must say, I do pity for him."

The siren splashes Venti, making him dripping in cold water. The berette on his head now droops to his eyes. He grins mischievously as he wrings the water out, showing the hair he hides. A strong gust of wind dries the siren's face, making them go back in the water to splash Venti.

"Right, so," the siren pops out their head again. "It was my great great grandfather that actually sang the song. The sailor was curious and fell off his ship, but he didn't know how to swim and drowned. His first mate blamed my great great grandfather's singing for making his captain drown. We're not bad actually. We stopped singing music so close to the surface."

"Wouldn't that be a sight," the bard hums, listening to the song you play on his lyre while looking at the sky above. "Say, Siren. What do you want me to call you? Let me know before the day turns night"

"You ask me my name before telling me yours?" The siren teases, giving his lyre back.

"Ah! My apologies, I'm Venti the bard!... Uh, I can't seem to get a word that rhymes with 'apologies' that go great with my sentence, so I hope you accept my repentance."

"It's alright." The siren says. "I'm [Name]. It's not everyday I can make friends with someone from the surface."

[Name] draws a figure in the air. "My first surface friends told me to be wary of others, but I think I can trust you," [Name] glances at the green glass, strapped on Venti's hip. "One of them even has the same looking glass orb as you. A vision he called it."

Venti shrugs with a smile, feeling like he knows the person the siren was referring to, "I would like to make a song for you, [Name]. Let's have others know what a wonderful siren you are."

Kazuha:

He sits at the side of the ship, playing his leaf like a flute beautifully. The crewmates on The Crux hum the same notes on repeat. They are broken records.

"Even the sturgeon and the ray, they get the urge and start to play!" A kid sings out loud, skipping behind Kazuha.

"Hmm hmm mmm" the kid hums, replacing the words he doesn't know with just the tune itself. "Under the sea!"

Kazuha sighs, letting go of his leaf for the ocean winds to take. His finger traces the lines of the ship, bored and somewhat annoyed. Beidou's crew had been singing the same song for hours after leaving Liyue, showing no signs of ever stopping. It was like a curse.

He looks over the horizon, the crescent moon shining on the ocean, making the ripples turn to satin sheets covering the water. The world is asleep, but not The Crux Crew.

He lets his hair free from the tie; snow hair moves with the breeze, waiting for his friend to appear.

A tall woman settles her hand on the boy's shoulders, sighing. "It's time to get rest. Your siren friend won't come, especially if sirens don't exist," she says saying the last part to herself.

"Beidou," Kazuha greets without turning his head.

"Come on, kid," Beidou insists. "It's late."

Kazuha stays seated, looking over the waters to find his siren friend. "I think I'll stay here a bit more. The ocean calls me as much as the wind."

He feels Beidou's hand leaving is shoulder. He silently thanks him for respecting his wishes.

"Good night, Captain. See you tomorrow," he says waving her off.

The sea captain lifts a hand while turning away, even when she knows Kazuha isn't looking.

Kazuha waits.

He waits some more.

Maybe Beidou is right. His siren friend won't be back today. He'll just wait again tomorrow.

He begins to stand until he sees a familiar figure in the ocean.

"[Name]," he breathes out gently.

A shimmering siren tail waves at him instead of a hand. Kazuha laughs and waves eagerly. He walks along the side, reaching one of the 'emergency boats' strapped on the ship and untangles its ropes, letting it fall to the ocean with a splash.

He gently falls down, the winds he summons cushioning his landing onto the small boat. His ruby eyes spot something in your hand and he asks about it.

"This? A weird green boy gave me this thing called a lyre. Said he had tons more so he gave me this one after making a song with me." [Name] presents it to Kazuha with both hands, grinning. "The boy even taught me a song."

"Oh?" He tilts his head, "Go ahead, play the song. Perhaps some day we may duet."

The siren sends him a thumbs up and start pulling the strings of a lyre.

Kazuha feels his eye twitch. "This song... what's the name?"

"Do you not like it?"

"No it's just... the crew was singing this song all day. I was wondering what song it is."

"Oh the green boy and I made it. I didn't know it would go that famous!"

"Hmm, keep playing."

Kazuha didn't mind the song the siren plays. After all, when [Name] plays the song, it sounds enchanting. He understands why people tend to fall overboard when hearing a siren play music. In fact, he almost drowned himself when hearing his siren friend sing for the first time.

...

He was preparing a boat to escape Inazuma by a secluded beach covered with sakura trees and many plants of nature.

Placing the planks in one spot, he hears a song in the sea.

Strange.

Enchanted by the singing, he walks out to sea. The water reaching his ankles, his knee then soon his chest to look for what was making the music. The sounds of nature call him back, desperately trying to make him safe, but he was too curious. The singing stops and Kazuha sinks under the sea to hear clearer, but instead his eyes widen and a few bubbles escape his mouth.

Glowing eyes stare at him.

A few scales pattern adorning their face. He looks behind the face and sees a tail, a fish tale. He knows it's a siren.

He sinks deeper, noting the details on the siren. How human ears aren't there, it's replaced by these webbed-like frills looking like a crown. He is amazed, and it seems the siren is too by seeing land legs for the first time so close.

Kazuha kicks his feet up, remembering he needs air to breathe, but a pesky seaweed wrapped around his leg, not letting go. The salt water stings his eyes, hurting more from every second. The lungs that need air start to fail him.

The siren in front of him flicks it's tail, quickly weaving their hands to untangle the boy from the seaweed.

The last of the bubbles escape Kazuha's lips. He shuts his eyes as he feels the drag of a current and the arms of the siren taking him to who knows where.

"So many... regrets," he thinks, letting himself be carried by a creature from only fairytales.

His head breaks the water tension and he immediately gasps for air. He coughs out water, chest heaving against the sandy beach, trying to calm himself. He stills, watching the siren lay on their stomach next to him, drawing flowers and fishes on the sand with the tip of their finger.

Sand sticks on Kazuha's wet skin and clothes.

"Thank you," he says weakly.

The siren perks their head up, hearing Kazuha's voice. "You're welcome!" They return to drawing on the sand and speak up without diverting attention from the drawing, "You're... the first human I've met."

Kazuha props himself up, his elbows acting as support. "Oh really? You're the first siren I met."

"No, duh. You had this dumb look on your face when you saw me," the siren teases, now looking at Kazuha. "All the other sirens say that humans are looking to hurt us. Why is it you don't want to hurt me?"

"Well- I was on the verge of dying."

The sound of feet stomping on the ground startles Kazuha and his new friend. Both of them sit up straight, feeling the ground shake.

"The Raiden Shogun..."

Kazuha flips his head to his unfinished boat and stands, quickly trying to complete it.

"Human," the siren calls, now back in the ocean. Kazuha looks at the siren. "Your broken boat will not take you anywhere. Just hold on to my back."

Kazuha chuckles and runs to the siren, knowing what they said is true. The guards will take him the second they reach him.

He trudges through the water, and clasps his arms around the siren's neck. "I know of a ship that can hide me for the time being." He says.

"So... what's your name?"

...

The song [Name] plays ceases, and Kazuha claps his hands lightly, careful not to wake the crew. He gives a small, "Heh" and leans on his small boat to be closer to the siren's face.

Their faces draw closer and [Name's] cheeks feel warm. Kazuha looks like a prince under the moon and stars shining on him.

Delicate hands make their way to cradle [Name's] jaw, making their foreheads touch. His thumb swipes [Name's] bottom lip all while gazing into their dilated eyes.

"I think your siren family are calling you," Kazuha says cheekily and quickly moving back away from [Name] after hearing the sound of other sirens calling for them.

"Oh, I- Well-" [Name] takes a deep breath before speaking, "Will you be here again?"

"Just as the moon awaits for the sun to rise once more, I will stay as well. I'll wait for your arrival once more at the same spot."

Beidou:

The well known Captain of the Crux Fleet does not believe in sirens. Dragons and the water form called Osial is one thing. Sirens, or better yet- merpeople are a kids' tale in her mind. Not even after Kazuha telling her he befriended a siren.

It's a child's tale; a myth not to believe in, which is ridiculous in Kazuha's opinion because they live in a world of myths.

She stands, sitting on a box of crates, peeking at her anemo wielding friend untangle the ropes of the emergency boat to get down closer to the waters.

Despite her crew telling her to rest at nights, she doesn't. As captain, it's her duty to keep watch after all her crew members, ensuring full safety on the fleet. She watches Kazuha always docking down from her ship to he his siren, but she never follows, only seeing his white hair descend from her sight.

Kazuha harnesses the wind to lift himself up back on the ship after hours being with the so-called siren. His hands move, controlling the wind once again to lift the boat, strapping it back on the ship. His ruby eyes glint to Beidou, who waves at him.

"Enjoy time with the siren?"

Kazuha sighs, knowing Beidou's doing this for the sake of it. "Beidou, they're real. My friend and every other siren in the waters." He says, trying to cover his flushed face by turning away from her.

"Right, right. Well, you only have one hour to sleep at most until the sun rises again."

"What about you?" Asks Kazuha, his back still facing Beidou. "Not even the bravest of warriors could stand their posts if they lack the energy to do so."

Beidou places her hands on her hips and laughs, "Come on, kid. I'll even tuck you in."

"Thank you... but I'm quite sure I can tuck myself in."

"Nonsense. You'll be tucked in."

She takes Kazuha to his own chambers in the ship, amused how he did not struggle against her.

After tucking him in, the tall captain stands at the figure of her ship and overlooks the sea. It is coincidental how when the topic of sirens came up the conversations, there was a song accompanied by it. The song will be the death of her.

Her chestnut hair weaves in the wind as she inhales deeply, enjoying the crisp air. She spots the seen peeking out from it's blanket of blue waves. She is blessed with another day.

One by one, her crew starts to file out. She greets them a good morning and with a surprise, "Crew! We're heading to Liyue. Chef Xiangling sent her kind invitation to eat for free!"

Woops and hoorays echo. Food made by Xiangling is the best.

The Captain lifts a hand and everyone quiets, "Set sail to Liyue!"

Upon reaching Liyue, Beidou swears something was following them, but every time she looks back, there would be nothing. She shrugs it off, thinking it was the lack of sleep getting to her and continues to lower the sails, preparing to land.

"I'll meet you there," she tells her crew. They accept their orders, already knowing were to go. They chatter their way to Wanmin Restaurant. She turns to Kazuha, seeing as he won't leave without her. "Kazuha, has something been following us?" She asks, knowing his sensitivity to things around him.

"Yes, but you won't believe me if I said what, or who, was following us."

Beidou groans, "Kazuha, sirens are just a folklore. I've spent years in my reckless teenage life looking for sirens. There just aren't any." She slaps Kazuha's back, "Let's go eat. You still look weary."

Kazuha purses his lips, looking at his Captain dead in the eyes. "[Name] is waiting below this ship. [Name] wouldn't follow us to Liyue unless something needs to be said." He waits for Beidou's reply.

"Alright, it's about time I met this siren friend of yours."

Surprised, Kazuha parts his mouth. "Wait, really?"

Beidou gives no answer, but instead unties the boat Kazuha uses to go 'meet his siren friend.' She waits on the tiny boat for Kazuha to join. When he takes a step in, Beidou releases the ropes she was once holding and falls to the ocean. This part of the ship is hidden from the people of Liyue, and Kazuha thanks his luck because who knows what people will do when they see a siren?

The small boat rocks side to side, balancing itself. Beidou lazily reaches for the water and splashes Kazuha's face who only tightens his lip in response. "Relax," the woman teases. "Your friend will be here if they're real, right?"

Kazuha summons a leaf, twiddling it with his fingers, waiting until he jumps in the water.

Beidou sharply turns to Kazuha, leaning over the boat to reach for him. "Kazuha!"

She jumps in after him with a smooth dive.

And that's when she sees that sirens are true.

The salt water stings her eyes as she looks at Kazuha making hang motions, pointing to her and up to the surface. The siren nods, understanding, swimming to Beidou. They wave, chuckling with the jaw-slacked face the sea captain makes.

Bubbles escape her lungs, so she treads up quickly, breathing in the air and then coming back down. Kazuha swims beside the siren and shows a smug face, as if saying "What did you say about sirens?"

Divine is the only word to describe Kazuha's siren friend. From the shimmering tale to the beauty of their smile, Beidou can only describe the siren as simply divine (a word Ningguang taught her).

The siren's webbed-like ear perks up to the surface. They tap Kazuha's shouder and cup their ears and point up.

Breathtaking.

Beidou notes how Kazuha and his friend communicate with each other so effectively with only a look in the eye and a few hand movements.

Kazuha nods, smiling then swims up to the surface, but Beidou stays, amazed by the tail of the siren.

"Up," the siren mouths. Beidou remembers the pain in her lungs for not having to get air in a while. She swims up, giving the siren one last look and breaking free from the water.

Strands of brown hair stick to her skin, looking at Kazuha with so much child-like wonder.

"Kazuha, is your siren friend single by any chance?"

Albedo:

Rumours of the singing siren spread through Mondstadt. Greeting Timaeus and Sucrose, he ignores the new song that spread around Teyvat called "A Siren's Tale," but he can't help but wonder if the tales are true.

On rare days Albedo isn't on Dragonspine or his office, he's sketching alongside the water and the marine life inside. It's a new interest he's taken in after learning everything above land. The ocean is so huge, there's an endless amount of questions under the sea.

He finishes the last stroke of a drawing. The Snapdragon and the crab next to it look realistic in his canvas. He sits on an isolated rock, a good distance away from the beach, enjoying the calming tunes of the ocean.

Wait- tunes?

He almost drops his canvas and charcoal, making eye contact with a bobbing head. Curious eyes flit from Albedo to his sketch in hand.

His immediate reaction is to create a flower to lift and up to glide back to shore, but he can't.

The stranger drifts closer to the rock Albedo sits on, revealing a tail that flickers behind it.

A siren.

"You aren't Venti, but I'll take it. I love someone of arts and crafts

Albedo tilts his head quizzically, charmed, "I am indeed not Venti, but thank you for the compliment." He takes a while, studying the details on the siren. "You're not what the song describes you as."

Lifting themselves onto the rock beside Albedo, the siren brings up their tail to wrap around what they sit on. "The song? Oh the one Venti made. I'm so sure we described myself perfectly, partly because I helped make it."

Albedo takes another canvas from his bag and draws circles to get the base of a face, "Well, physically yes. It captures your looks, but never did it once mention how enchanting you are."

The siren sputters, obviously not expecting a stranger to flirt. "What- huh?"

Albedo laughs, looking at the siren that sits next to him, analyzing their features before returning to his sketch. "I apologize. Socializing is not my thing."

"Yeah, I could tell. People usually tell me their names before saying things like that. Granted, I only met three other people before you."

"One being Venti?"

"Yeah. I visit him around this time everyday, but he said he's struggling to pay back a bartender so he's hiding with an old friend in Liyue. His friend's name is Peepaw. Should've been back by now, but he's gone."

"..Oh."

Two fingers push down the drawing and he looks at the siren, confused.

"Are you drawing me?" They grin. "It's fantastic, but why?"

Albedo explains, "I tend to sketch what fascinates me. Your beauty was surprising, I couldn't help but draw you." His charcoal grazes the canvas so swiftly, it's dancing on ice. The black tool turns to a stub, until it turns to nothing but ashes on his finger. His sketch is only half finished.

"Excuse this lousy drawing. I appear to be out of charcoal."

The siren jumps into the water and comes back up with rusted metal from a sword. "Will this work?"

"Ah, that's a sword. I can't use that for sketching."

"Oh..."

Albedo lifts a finger, a thought is said out loud, "I realize I have yet to ask your name. I'm Albedo, Chief Alchemist of The Knights of Favonius."

"Wow that's a long name." The siren takes a deep breath and speaks in one go, "Hello, Albedochiefalchemistofthenightsoffavonius. Pleasure to meet you, I'm [Name]."

"How charming." He says, putting his canvas in his bag. "I mean to ask another question, would it be alright to visit you again soon? You live under the sea, surely you know about the mysteries we have there."

[Name] looks at him like he was an alien. "Are you for real?"

"I'm pretty sure I am."

"You can just tell me you want to hang out. I know I'm fun," they say puffing their chest, proud of themselves.

"You certainly have high views of yourself," Albedo laughs, covering the bottom half of his face with his charcoal stained hand. "I'll be here tomorrow, if you would take your time to see me again."

[kiridarling]

𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

eijirou kirishima | f!reader, DARK CONTENT, drugging, noncon, but also the reader isn't not into it bc like...i have my limits okay, talk of vomit for a sec (no actual vomit), degradation, bondage, size kink, hair pulling, ripping clothes, slut-calling once or twice. minors dni!

— 3k words

"'S this what you need, Sweetheart? Y'need me to use you to get off while you just lie there and take it?"

"See somethin' you like, Sweetheart?"

"U-Um," you flush a deeper red than the stranger's hair and pray he can't see it under neon red lights. Either way, you've been caught red-handed, and recoil. "Sorry."

The stranger's crimson eyes soften before relaxing into a kind smile, and he lifts a dismissive hand. "I was just messing with you! That's on me."

He lifts a hand to scratch the back of his head and the smile grows wider, displaying the rows of predatory sharp teeth that shouldn't look as gentle as they do. You relax in the seat to his right, immediately turning to the bartender to order a funny named a drink. The redhead raises an eyebrow, leaning his arm on the counter.

"A Stranger Danger?" He nearly deadpans.

"Club Special," you shrug. You've never been particularly great at holding your alcohol, but this drink provides just enough punch for a buzz, aka what you need to get through the night. The bartender slides over a tall, rose-dyed wine glass without another word.

"Eijirou Kirishima," the stranger says with his sharp teeth, offering a large hand to shake. He looks comical next to you, all hunched over the neon bar while you sit up straight for your head to reach his shoulder, and as you take the handshake, can't help but notice how his palm eats yours like it's nothing.

"Y/N," you smile. His hand lingers before it pulls away, and he tells the bartender he'll have what you're having.

"So," Eijirou starts once his order has been placed. "You come here often?" You snort at the cheesy line, and the way Eijirou smirks implies he knows just how cliché it is.

"Sometimes," you shrug vaguely. The club's fairly new, so it's not as if you can say you've been going here for years. You lift the drink to your lips, the sugar-crusted rim tickling the corners of your mouth. "You?"

He shrugs, "When I want to get out."

You nod at that and offer him your glass with a raised eyebrow. Eijirou shakes his head, lifting a glass of his own. Your nose scrunches.

"Beer?"

He takes a sip before answering, lips white from the foam before his tongue licks them over, "Stella Artois. Want some?"

Your eyes shift between your dainty glass and his not-so-dainty one before you snort, "I'll pass."

Eijirou shrugs, reclining back in his seat and beer in hand, "Suit yourself."

You pat your back pocket for your phone, but when you realize there's a loss of weight on one side, you pat your right buttcheek to realize you left your wallet in the car. Fuck.

"Uh, hey," you say, knocking the redhead on the shoulder. You figure he's trustworthy enough, and the bartender always keeps an eye out for you anyway. "I'll be right back—left my wallet in the car."

Eijirou nods at that as you push away from the counter practically shaking your head at how distracted you can be sometimes. Seriously, your wallet?

At least the bartender didn't ask for your ID. Yikes.

You slam the car door shut with a huff, wallet finally in hand as you trudge back to the bar. When you return, Eijirou's got the beer lifted to his lips and greets you with a small wave as you sit down.

"Long time no see."

You giggle while grabbing your glass by the neck. As the club starts to fill out, you begin to shrink into your shell—throwing the entire drink down the hatch fixes you right up, though.

"Oh wow okay, looks like we're just going for the whole thing, then," Eijirou chuckles as he takes a much more civilized sip of his. You smack your lips with a satisfied aah.

"Gotta get the buzz going somehow," you wink, before getting comfortable in your seat. Alcohol warms your veins already, prompting your body to start pulse in time with the bass of the music. Eijirou smiles, watching you.

"You like this song?" he asks softly, before adjusting so you're both sat the same way—elbows and backs against the counter, facing the club and all its chaos. You shrug.

"I guess. I've never heard it 'till now."

He tosses his head back onto his muscled shoulders in a chuckle, and you watch the entire act in slow motion. The glint of his teeth in the neon lights, how his chest balloons and quivers under the weight of a bellow. You find yourself staring much harder than you intend to, but he doesn't seem to notice, eyes locked on the dance floor.

"Touché, touché," he says upon recovery. The alcohol in your veins turns to syrup and time starts to blur more than you're used to it being, body so light and weightless you have to pat the chair to make sure you aren't floating. That usually doesn't happen.

"You okay?" Eijirou frowns when you falter. You pull a smile and nod.

"Mhm," you say, though silently panicking when you feel like you're falling out of your seat. You grip the countertop just in case. "Mhm, yeah."

He raises an eyebrow, "You sure?"

"Yeah," you nod, before clearing your throat. Your body flashes hot then cold, and you wonder if you shouldn't have taken that drink down like you did. "I'm um—I'm going to go to the bathroom, one sec."

You're unsure if Eijirou says something as you leave because you pour all your energy into stumbling across the obnoxiously loud club, filled with too much bass and pandemonium for your liking. You're suddenly overwhelmed by everything and your esophagus goes numb at the thought of vomiting, but you make it to the singles bathroom just in time to shut the door and control your goddamn stomach.

With a sigh, you rest your head against the cool sink. The incessant buzz of the overhead lights is much, much better.

You take a deep breath and flick on the sink. Ensuring it's as freezing as it can possibly go, you launch some into your face. You don't even consider ruining the amount of work that went into your outfit today, because ultimately you aren't sober enough to give a shit, blinking back at your reflection to find it fairly blurry. You nearly stumble and fall, but your vice grip on the counter keeps you alive.

"You okay?"

The second you step back into the noisy club, Eijirou's there—with his sweet sharp-toothed smile, he's posted next to the bathroom door and you find yourself grappling his jacket for stability.

"Whoa—Careful now," He chuckles at your sloppiness with a lifted eyebrow. You blink once, twice—the spots floating in your line of vision don't disappear. His hands snake around your waist to keep you from falling and eating shit, and you dig your forehead into his muscled chest.

"Gotta—I gotta go home."

"Okay," Eijirou soothes softly upon realizing how utterly shit-faced you are. "How'd you get here?"

"Walked," you groan and nearly cry, looking up at him with a pout. Eijirou coos.

"Well, no offense but I don't think you're good to walk on your own, Sweetheart."

His voice is heady with something you can't quite recognize, but it's comfortable, and you melt into his chest with a weak nod.

"Mhm."

"Can I help you home?" He offers with a kind smile. You nod, fists gripping his shirt in tufts.

"Yes please."

"Oop—careful."

"I am al—hic—always so fu—fucking careful," you slur. Your body has gone so numb that Eijirou gave up and resorted to carrying you bridal style the rest of the way instead. But he has to set you down so you can stuff your keys in the door, but you can't even do that right.

"Need me to do it?"

"No!" You puff your cheeks, trying twice more before you successfully get it in the keyhole. "'Mma strong independent woman who don' nee' no mahn."

Eijirou chuckles, and using his big shoulder, opens the door to chauffeur you inside. Neither of you get very far, maybe halfway to your room, before your legs give out and the only thing that saves you is the hand on your waist.

"Down this hall?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. You nod so profusely it gives you a temporary headache.

You blink and you're in your bedroom, your front hitting the sheets with a soft thump. Huh. Maybe he carried you the rest of the way. With a face full of pillows, you groan at the new and improved position as you feel the bed dip behind you, and Eijirou grab both of your wrists.

"You're so cute, you know that?"

Something soft and silk ties your fists behind your back. You recognize the material as the belt from your robe, tossed carelessly on your bed during the chaos that ensues every time you get ready for the club. It's not until you try to pull your hands apart that you realize they're tied tight.

"Pulling is only going to make it tighter," Eijirou says with an absentminded sigh, like he's done this before, and trepidation spikes in your chest once he raises your hipbone and slides a pillow underneath to angle them, the only way you could break free—especially with the new grip on your hips.

"Ei—" you try to squirm, legs kicking blindly into the space behind you, but once he seizes your thighs he's sitting on your calves to keep you in place. There's the undeniable sound of cloth ripping and your behind is suddenly met with cool air, prompting a shiver or two.

"Eijirou, what are yo—"

You're interrupted by a stinging slap to your ass and a growl. "Don't tell me I gotta gag your pretty mouth too, Sweetheart."

His voice is low and sharp with a threat, his grip tightening around your thighs.

"You're soaked already? Fuck...and I bet you taste so sweet too..." he bites back a groan in thought, sliding a finger down your slit.

He clicks his tongue but it's damn near mocking. You gasp as he fills you with two large fingers instead of one, body tensing as the alcohol-induced numbness fades in favor of amplified arousal. Eijirou chuckles at your reaction.

"Taking it so well already," he purrs, hand caressing the crest of your ass. In your defense, there isn't much you can do but take it. Ah-ah, Sweetheart—Speak up for me."

"O-Ow," you hiss when your head is wrenched. upwards via your hair to expose your broken moan. Eijirou's grip only tightens after you complain, and you can feel his hot breath ghost the base of your neck. His thumb finds your clit and doesn't move, it just sits there as heavy weight—and it's just as frustrating as it is teasing.

"Ei," you rasp into the pillow, voice hoarse and thick. "I nee—fuck, more—"

"More?" He chuckles derisively, shaking his head with a tut. "Two fingers and you want more? Fuckin' slut."

Each word is loaded with something pitifully mocking and if you were in any other position you would've curled a lip and spat back. But that's a little hard with your face in the pillow and Eijirou's weight above you, isn't it? You shake your head against his fist until he lets go in favor of crackling a solid hand against your ass.

"Oh, you like that, don't you Sweetheart?" He grunts and his fingers increase in speed, the lewd squelch bounces off the walls of the bedroom and echoes in your head in the most insulting way. "My fingers fill you up that good?"

"Y-Yeah, I—" you choke around drool that gathers in the corners of your mouth and shake under his palm. "Fuck me Ei, I nee—"

The quick spank cracked against your ass shakes you from your thought process. "Dirty fucking girl—you really so desperate to let a guy you just met fuck you like this? So goddamn easy."

But he's removing his fingers regardless, stuffing them between your swollen lips as he assumes the space behind you. You hear the quiet fumble of his belt and the run of his zipper, before you feel his hot cock pressing against your soaked entrance.

Eijirou pushes in with a groan, his free hand finding your hips to keep them in place. Your legs thrash as he fills you up with a pleasurable burn, and by the time he bottoms out, you're positive he's filling you up all the way to your lungs.

"Fucking hell," he heaves above you, and the fingers in your mouth disappear to grasp the sheets. You shake along with him, back straightening in a poor attempt to alleviate the burn—and he barely gives you a second to breathe before he's pulling out and slamming back in.

"Fuck!"

You jump each time the head of his cock rams against your cervix, feet scrambling in a poor attempt to escape. Eijirou growls and puts all of his weight in his hips to ensure you'll stay still, a big hand smushing your face into the sheets.

"Sing for me, Sweetheart—I wanna hear ya."

Your voice cracks as Eijirou speeds up, simply using you for his own pleasure—but maybe that's what excites you the most.

"Ei—"

"'S this what you need, Sweetheart?" He spits, and you can feel the sweat dripping from his shoulders onto your exposed back. "Y'need me to use you to get off while you just lie there and take it?"

You whimper uselessly and nod, but Eijirou growls, yanking your head up for a proper answer.

"I said, don't you?"

"Fuck I—" he hikes your hips even higher for a better angle and gets one, the head of his cock forcing a scream out of your lungs as you yelp, "I do!"

"'Course you do," he chuckles, and drops your head back onto the pillow, "'Course you fuckin' do—"

"Ei-Eiji—" you gasp like you've been underwater forever. "I can't, I nee—"

"Dumb little baby can't even speak," he coos, before his hand finds the sides of your neck and squeezes. "What? Whadd'ya need, Sweetheart?"

And honestly, you're not completely sure what you need, you just know you're chasing after *something—*and Eijirou's got you sprinting after it while you melt into the sheets into a hot, gooey mess. You think the split ends of EIjirou's hair ticking the back of your arms, but you aren't sure. The only thing you are sure of is the burn between your legs and the feeling of being very, very close.

"'Mma cum!" You squeal, the vein in the side of your neck bulging. Eijirou grunts and slides a calloused hand under your stomach to play with your clit, hissing as you squeeze around him.

"Awe, the little slut's gonna cream all over my cock?" He coos, and you're positive his hips speed up just a bit. The grip on your neck slides to the hands tied behind your back for leverage. "Yeah she fuckin' is—I can see your eyes rolling back already."

And he's right, because the weight of your orgasm knocks the wind out of your lungs and your lips round to form and 'o'. You couldn't say if you screamed or not, as the ringing in your ears peaks with your orgasm. The only reason you know Eijirou finishes is because his hips stutter to a stop while you lay face down in the pillow, heart thrumming against your ribcage.

"Hey, you okay?" Eijirou nearly scrambles to get your back on your chest. You know this type of thing gets him nervous, but he does it oh so well, and there isn't much you can do but smile at the ceiling lazily.

"You just railed me into the sheets and you're asking if I'm fine?" You snort at your boyfriend's frazzled appearance—and the afterglow doesn't help, his chili red hair sticking in every other direction except the one it's supposed to.

"Yeah," Eijirou doesn't even hesitate and then gives you a quick peck on the lips. His voice edges on a petulant whine as he says, "I was rough, Sweetheart."

"Because I asked you to be," you quirk an eyebrow and finally, the redhead stumbles to your joint bathroom butt naked. "And don't forget to wet the towel this time!

A little shuffling in the bathroom, and then:

"That was one time!"

"And my vag will never recover!" You holler back. Eijirou just snorts before the white noise of a running sink takes possession of the conversation, and you scoot to the section of your shared bed that isn't soiled with a sigh.

You roll onto your side and come face to face with a framed selfie of you and Eijirou on your first date. Next to that one is first anniversary, second anniversary, third...

Now you're edging on the fifth, comfortable enough where he's walking around with his soft dick out and you've given up in swatting at his hands every time they grab for your tits. You two are comfortable—this is comfortable.

Eyeing the bathroom door, you still hear running water. Sneakily, you reach for the drawer where Eijirou keeps the the ring he doesn't know you know he hides. But frankly, you're the only one who cleans this goddamn house, so it wasn't like you weren't going to find it. You open the red velvet box to blink down at a diamond ring, thumb caressing gem. It glimmers even when the lights are low, and you can't help but be jealous of it—which is silly. You know it'll be yours anyway. The ring is always smoother than you expect it to be, but that thought doesn't last long, because you quickly toss it back into Eijirou's drawer and assume a less suspicious position upon hearing the sink turn off.

"What?" he asks with a small grin as he walks in with a wet towel in hand. "You're giving me that weird look again."

You snort, rolling your eyes before adjusting so you face the ceiling again. Spreading your legs, you demand, "'S nothing. Now clean me up, big boy."

Eijirou huffs at that but he assumes the space between your legs with a light blush. You smile.

He'll do it. When he grows the balls.

[titanicsimp]

Hello there! What would be some of the AOT boys' reactions to stumbling upon their crush (reader) playing the piano? Maybe something like Claire De Lune? It can be in the canonverse 🤗 thank you so much!

Also I just want to say that your writing is incredible, and you write all the characters SO spot on! Keep up the great work! 💕

Thank you so much for your kind words, I’m really glad I can do the characters justice!

I’m an absolute uncultured swine when it comes to music but I did some research so I hope this is what you wanted 🥰🥰

AOT men walking in on their crush playing the piano (includes; Eren, Armin, Jean, Connie, Levi, Erwin, Zeke, Reiner, Porco, Colt)

cw: none

a/n: This got kinda long so I put it under a cut!

Armin Arlert

Arabesque, No. 1 in E major by Claude Debussy

The soft notes of the piano fit well with the polished corridors of Mitras palace, and Armin couldn’t help but be drawn in by the sound. The music was gentle yet upbeat, a stark contrast with what had just been discussed in the dreadful meetings he had to attend.

A smile graces his face when he cracks the door of the music room further open, finding you at the seat of the piano. You look beautiful, your lips curved up slightly as your fingers dance over the keys. You look content, lost in your own happy tune, and Armin can’t help but be relieved that you have found a moment for yourself. He doesn’t want to interrupt, he just wants to stand and listen to you play, leaning against the doorway. He lets his head fall back against the frame and closes his eyes, letting you carry him away to a world of wonder through the music.

Eren Yeager

Metamorphosis: Three by Philip Glass

Eren had been surprised to be woken up by music. He shuffled over to the room where the sound seemed to originate from, only to find you. It almost seemed like you expected him, your gaze pointedly meeting his before you returned your attention to the piano. Eren did not have a lot of sense for music, but he could tell that your talent deserved much more than that run down thing.

“Bit somber, isn’t it?” He comments but you shake your head.

“Not necessarily, listen.”

He moves closer as you continue playing the song, and soon he finds out why you wanted him to listen. The somber tones get shifted to louder, more excited ones, giving the tune a more hopeful feel to it. He looks at you as you guide the music through its ups and lows, and a shiver runs over his spine every time he catches your eye. It’s like you see through him, he’s always felt that way, that’s why he took a liking to you to begin with. Though you aren’t telling him it explicitly, he understands what the song means for both of you.

Jean Kirstein

Liebestraume S541/R211: No. 3 Nocturne in E flat major by Franz Liszt & Jenö Jandó

Jean had just been wandering around, lost in thought, when he heard someone playing the piano. None of the scouts played piano as far as he knew, making him wonder if it was perhaps a Marleyan making use of the music room. He was pleasantly surprised to find out that you were the one playing. Your eyes closed, focusing intently on the tune of every key your fingers hit. Though he could watch you like this forever, he needs to come closer. “Wow.”

“How come you never told me you play piano?”

He smiles when you look up at him bashfully. “It had been so long, I wasn’t sure if I could anymore...”

“It sounds amazing, you have talent.” Jean tells you and comes to stand next to the piano.

You continue playing under his watchful eye, a smile playing at your lips. He enjoys the song, and jokingly starts ball dancing by himself, commenting that beautiful music should be danced to. You chuckle at him clumsily dancing with the air, your chest warming at the sight.

Connie Springer

Forever, forever by Keiko Matsui

Connie can’t help but feel slightly offended that you never told him, but as he watches you play from the open window, he can’t stay mad. He pulls himself up on the frame, startling you when he drops into the room. Throwing his hands up, he grins. “Sorry.”

You shake your head but smile, returning your attention to the piano. Slowly, you pick up the song again, and Connie makes sure to listen closely. The tune feels loving, and a blush graces his cheeks as he hopes that perhaps it’s him you are thinking of while playing.

“Can I sit with you?” He questions softly and you nod your head.

Seeing your face from so close as he sits on the bench with you makes his heart skip beats. It’s nice to see you so content, it’s the only way he wants you to be.

Levi Ackerman

Claire de Lune by Claude Debussy

Levi was determined to find out where you sneaked off to while you should be cleaning with them, glaring at the thought of how he should scold you for it. When he found you, the infall of sunlight playing so beautifully across your skin, sweet notes resonating throughout the room, he stopped in his tracks. Levi has a great appreciation for fine, sophisticated things, and you playing the piano with the sun setting behind you must be the epitome of it.

Your eyes widen when you realize he’s there, your hands stopping their movements. Levi scowls at you. “Keep playing.” He tells you commandingly.

Worried that you’ll be punished more severely if you don’t, you start again. You had thought he would be furious to find you slacking during cleaning duties, but as soon as you continued playing his face turned soft. He enjoyed it, taking a seat in a vacant chair and even leaning back slightly. As he listened to your song, he could imagine himself doing this more often, hearing you play and seeing you so delicately working the instrument, perhaps with some tea next time. It was alright that you snuck off this time, he supposed, hiding his smile behind his hand as he was glad he didn’t have to scold you.

Erwin Smith

Nocturnes: No. 1, Molto Moderato, in E flat major by Frédéric Chopin & John Field

It was rare to find a house with luxuries at this area, never mind one that has been abandoned and probably raided countless times. As you run your hand over the dusty piano lid, you wonder if it could possibly still work.

Erwin had just entered the room when you have propped the lid up and sit down on the piano bench. His eyes widen when you start playing a tune, one that for some reason sound familiar. You smile, playing more excitedly. “Seems like it has survived fairly well.” Some of the notes aren’t what they used to be, but it’s a miracle nonetheless.

The more the song carries on, he realizes where he’s heard it before. A friend of his father played the piano and he had played this song before. His admiration for you had already been great for the longest time, but this just increased it even more. Erwin had been no good at instruments himself, yet you played like it was your second nature. He makes a plan for himself to find a piano when the two of you return, wanting to hear more of your hidden talent.

Zeke Yeager

Gnossiennes |-||-||| (1890) by Erik Satie

People rarely came to this part of the wing, and since Zeke’s usual spot was closed off, he decided to go have a smoke on the balcony of the old music room. When he heard someone entering, he observed curiously, watching you sneak in. You pulled off the cover of off the grand piano, letting the sheet fall to the floor. He took drags from his cigarette, narrowed eyes watching your every move from a distance. It was always nice to see you, but what were you doing here?

You play some notes, testing yourself before you take a deep breath. Zeke’s cigarette drops from his lips as soon as you start playing. You carry the tune flawlessly and even he can tell its brimming with emotion. Where the hell had you been hiding this talent?

He listens patiently till you finish your song. He isn’t the best at judging emotions, but from the glances he catches of the side of your face, it seems that you are pouring your frustrations into it.

When you finish, he walks in, closing in on you from behind and putting his hands on your shoulders. You recognize who it is instantly as he leans forward, the scent of smoke carrying from his lips.

“It’s not fair to keep a talent like this hidden.” His hands rub at your shoulders and you feel pride swell in your chest. “Dedicate a song to me?” He asks playfully.

Reiner Braun

Nuvole Bianche by Ludovico Einaudi

Reiner feels ashamed that he didn’t know when he walks in on you playing the piano. He looks away in embarrassment when your eyes catch his. “Excuse me.” He says, already turning back to the door.

“Reiner!”

You stop playing. “This... it’s a new song I’ve learned. Can you stay and tell me if it sounds right?”

He turns back to you, your face showing that you are being earnest. Nodding his head, he strides over to you.

You tap the spot on the bench next to you with your hand and he sits down with a tiny smile.

You go back to the beginning, turning your sheet music accordingly. His gaze goes from your face to your hands as you play. Your fingers move over the keys so lightly, and something about it just makes him want to hold your hand. He holds himself back, not wanting to mess up the beautiful song you are creating.

When you are done, you ask him what he thought. “It was beautiful.” He tells you, beautiful like everything else you do.

Porco Galliard

Prelude in G minor Op. 23/5 by Sergei Rachmaninoff

Porco expected to find some stuffy man playing the piano, which is the case at most of these ‘prestige’ events, but instead he found you. “What the fuck?”

You shoot him a glare, trying your hardest to stay focused on your play. “Don’t throw me off, asshole.”

He doesn’t want to throw you off, he’s just baffled. It’s astounding that the same person who throws him in the dirt during every training is the same as the polished one he sees in front of him right now. From the way you play, there’s no doubt that you must have been doing this for a long time. He vaguely remembers you telling him that you used to take piano lessons, but he had no idea that you now did it professionally. As he watches you play, your eyes cast down to the keys and fingers moving across the length of the board at a rapid pace, he has to admit there’s something charming about it. He grins to himself, the night will be far more entertaining and pleasant on the eye than he had expected.

Colt Grice

Rêverie by Claude Debussy

Colt at first thinks he must be dreaming. The music, your radiant face, it fits right in. He’s not though, instead he has just stumbled onto yet another trait that makes him love you more. You take tiny glances at him as you play and he can tell you are happy he’s here. His palms feel sweaty and his cheeks heat up as he realizes how perfect of a moment it would be if he confessed his feelings now. If he could, he would blurt it out, but he can’t. Instead he continues watching you, building the courage inside him bit by bit.

Noticing that you are cracking your neck quite often, Colt comes over to stand behind you. He’s gentle as he touches your shoulders, seeing if you don’t move away from him before he massages your sore muscles. Little sighs pass by your lips as you continue playing your song, letting your head fall back when it’s finished.

“Thank you, I’m not used to playing for longer times anymore.” You sigh, putting one hand over his.

He flushes at your touch. “You play beautifully, so thank you for letting me hear it..”

[une-femme-de-lettres]

Soft Spot

Summary : There was a reason why they called him ‘the ripper’. But Kenny didn’t seem that tough of a guy, at least not to you…

Characters : Kenny Ackerman, Female!Reader

Parings : Kenny Ackerman x Female!Reader

Word count : 2060

Warnings : Smut, Age gap (but the reader is 18+), unprotected sex

A/N : Still not over older men I guess, so here’s some Kenny content! I don’t know if many people in the fandom simp over him but I do, so there we go I guess!

No matter how the world seemed to be burning and falling apart, the night was always quiet. Whether it be beyond the walls, in the small villages surrounding the city or in the vast homes of noble families, the deep blue cover of the night would always bring an endless, peaceful silence.

It was in one of those luxurious residences, in a large room lit by the moonlight that was seeping through the open windows, that you were sleeping. The muslin curtains were fluttering gently in the cool wind of the summer night. You were entangled in your soft sheets, slowly falling into a deeper sleep. Your breath was steady, your thoughts were clear and you were not yet dreaming. You were serene.

In the cold moonlight, a shadow appeared, perched on the window sill. The silhouette started moving slowly, uncurling itself to reveal a tall and lean figure. In this moment, you were unaware of its presence, your eyes closed and your mouth partially open to let out a quiet snoring.

The figure approached you slowly, observing you. A hand stretched out in an attempt to touch your face but it stopped. The figure turned around and wandered around your large room, the fabric covering its body ruffling softly with its movements.

The silhouette stopped in front of your vanity, stood still for a minute before its own reflection in the round mirror and lifted a hand to remove the hat that was covering its head, putting it down on the piece of furniture. Its long, heavy coat was next to go, discarded onto the upholstered chair sitting in front of the vanity.

“You shouldn’t creep into girls’ bedrooms at night, it could get you in trouble,” you said from the confines of your warm bed, your voice still heavy with sleep. The figure turned to you, its face finally appearing in the moonlight. The grin that decorated this face was unmistakable. Kenny Ackerman…

You couldn’t say you were surprised by his presence. The air was rather warm tonight, but not quite warm enough to call for open windows after all… You couldn’t help but grin back, rolling around slowly in your soft sheets, partially revealing your body to the man.

“You know I could get you arrested within the minute… Father would never let anything happen to his beloved daughter…” you added playfully. Kenny took a few slow and deliberate steps towards you. You watched his every move, relishing in the way his white shirt clung to his figure, wrinkling and stretching with the movement.

“Oh but you won’t do it…” he said, his voice resonating in you the way it always did. The grin on his face was soon replaced with a small smile. His eyes locked with yours, his gaze was soft. He seemed content, but weary.

You kept watching him, slowly sitting up in your bed, as he reached the end of the mattress. He then turned his back to you and sat down on the edge of the bed with a light sigh. You moved from your spot, taking the sheet off your body, the cool air hitting the skin that wasn’t covered by your night gown.

You slowly crawled towards Kenny as he let his upper body fall to the soft mattress to lay on his back, arms slightly spread out. You stopped above his head to contemplate his face again, sitting on your heels in the middle of your bed and leaning over him slightly.

You watched his eyes close for a moment, the small wrinkles around his eyelids deepening slightly with the motion. His light beard looked slightly whiter in the pale moonlight. His hair was slicked back, although slightly disturbed by the hat he was wearing earlier.

His eyes opened back up, staring directly at you. You smiled again and he remained silent for a moment. He loved your smile, there was curiosity, kindness and honesty in that smile. What did he do to deserve your smile…?

“I want you,” he said quietly. There was something in his eyes, something always present when he was looking at you, eagerness… or longing perhaps.

“Then have me,” you said cheekily, anchoring your body to the mattress with your knees and sliding your arms around his torso to pull him up your bed with a laugh.

He let out a chuckle and turned around to face you. You let go, leaning back down onto your pillows. You let him kneel between your legs, the hem or your gown riding up slightly along your thighs as he did so. He leaned over you, supporting himself with his arms on either side of your body.

“Kiss me,” he whispered, his face so close you could feel his breath roll on your closed lips.

You leaned in for a kiss. You were quick to deepen the kiss, inviting him with a move of your tongue on his lips. Your hands moved to hold his face, to keep him close as you fell into a lustful embrace. You felt his hand caress your thigh, moving up more and more, making the fabric of your gown bunch at your hips and reveal your body to him.

You shuddered, feeling the rough material of his pants rub against the inside of your thighs. You broke the kiss and sat up, your hands getting to work to unbutton his shirt. He stood still, watching you completing your task as his hands continued to travel along the skin of your legs, his touch light and languid.

You pulled the shirt open, untucking it from the waistband of his pants. You couldn’t help leaning in and touching your lips to his skin. Neck, shoulder, chest; you wanted to explore every inch of his body with your mouth and hands.

Once the shirt was discarded, you kissed him again. The kiss was slow and tender. He let you take over for a moment, letting himself fall back against the fluffy pillows while you worked to remove his pants.

With the last of his remaining clothes gone, you took the time to relish in the sight of his naked body, toned and lean before you. It exuded power and dominance yet he let you be in control. In a way, taking the lead surely was the best proof of your devotion to him.

With a rush of confidence, you straddled his hips. You couldn’t help running your hands down his torso, feeling the relief formed by his muscles under your fingertips. Your eyes looked up to find his. He was staring at you, waiting for your next move. You gave him the spectacle he was waiting for, gripping the fabric of your night gown tightly and lifting the garment above your head, slowly revealing your naked body to his longing eyes, before letting it drop to the floor beside your bed.

You gasped softly when he sat up, capturing you in a tight embrace. You wrapped your arms around his head as his wrapped around your waist, squeezing your chest to his and draping his warmth around your body.

You stayed like this a few seconds and he then pulled away slightly to bring his lip to the crook of your neck. The touch of his lips and the warmth of his breath against you skin made you sigh in pleasure. He moved on to other places, exploring your skin with eagerness. You ran your fingers through his hair as his mouth captured one of your breasts. He kissed, licked and teased your nipple, eliciting from you a series of sighs and moans. Music to his ears…

After a moment, he moved back to your lips to kiss you again. You ran your hands everywhere on his body as you kissed him back. Your hips started moving gently in repeated motions, the inside of your thighs rubbing against his warm skin, the contact making your more and more eager.

One of his hands moved to the apex of your thighs, feeling around, caressing you gently. He progressively moved closer to your core. By now, he knew all the ways to make you feel good with his hands. His fingers found your clit and started teasing it with slow, gentle motions, falling in rhythm with the movement of your hips.

Your lips parted slightly and you pressed your cheek to his, closing your eyes. You were moaning and whining more and more. Your lips curled into a smile whenever he would also let out quiet sighs.

His hand was gentle against your soft skin, varying pressure and movement to perfection. When he felt you started to get wetter and wetter, he slowly slipped a finger inside you. You let out your loudest moan yet, hiding your face in the crook of his neck in embarrassment.

“I love hearing your voice,” he said in response to your gesture, his voice resonating deep in his chest. “Say my name,” he whispered as he continued to pleasure you, adding a second finger. You lifted your head slightly, bringing your mouth closer to his ear.

“Kenny…” you said under your breath as he curled his fingers to hit the perfect spot inside you. Your voice dragged out into a whine of pleasure and your felt his cheek contort to bend his lips into a smile.

You moved your head to face him, looking right into his eyes. His fingers curled again and you couldn’t help rolling your head back, closing your eyes and moaning out loud again. You heard him chuckle and you kept your eyes closed and head rolled back, your hips still moving with him.

His second hand wrapped around the back of your neck to bring you back to him. You opened your eyes, whining as his fingers left your core. He brought them to your mouth, watching you with hunger in his eyes as you parted your lips and took them in your mouth.

You sucked his wet fingers gently and he smiled, feeling the roughness of your tongue glide along them. He took them out and grabbed your chin gently to give you an open mouth kiss. You smiled into the kiss as he flipped both of you around slowly.

You rested against your pillows, watching him position himself at your entrance. You didn’t take your eyes off him as he leaned in to kiss and nip at the crook of your neck, taking his time to slide into you as he did so.

When you felt all of him inside you, you sighed in contentment. Your eyes closed briefly, as if to enhance your sense of touch as he started moving in and out of you slowly. Once the rhythm was set, neither of you could stop, yet you never quickened your pace.

He made love to you lazily, his movements so slow and deliberate. You pulled him close, feeling more of his hot skin against yours. You slid a hand between your two bodies, finding your clit and starting a gentle stimulation with your fingers, in rhythm with his thrust.

Soon you were burning with lustful pleasure. His moans and groans were more frequent. Your sighs were louder and louder. You felt your pleasure coil up in your stomach quickly. You slipped over the edge without warning, your legs trembling around his hips, your breath turning into a high pitched moan.

He felt you tighten around him and it send him over the edge with a repressed groan. He spilt his seed inside you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your arms wrapped around his head and torso and both your bodies laid there for a moment, sweaty and out of breath.

You ran a hand through his hair gently, your fingers playing with it for a little bit. He started moving after a few minutes, lying down beside you and bringing your closer to him. You rested your head on his chest as his arm wrapped around your back. You didn’t want this to end this time.

You so desperately wanted this to last forever. You wanted to wake up to find him still beside you, fast asleep in the morning sunlight. You knew he’d have to leave soon. Tears pooled in your eyes and you pressed yourself to him even more, as if to capture him only to never let go.

[byunbaekby]

title — a clouded fate pairing — badboy!mark lee x female reader featuring — lucas wong/wong yukhei, johnny seo, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta (mentioned), lee donghyuck (mentioned) word count — 17.2k   overall warnings — extreme drug use, drug dealing, alcohol use, language, religion, addiction, drug overdose, vomiting, one explicit smut scene smut warnings — fingering, protected sex (stay safe, always!), high sex, corruption kink for like 0.2 seconds, degradation collab — bad boy bingo collab, link here lyrics inspiration — “call it quits, call it destiny.” bruno major, easily ; “gotta stay high all the time, to keep you off my mind.” tove lo, habits writing playlist  — link here

author’s message — oh my gosh, it’s finally here! this has been a work in progress basically ever since early summer, when i started writing on this blog. this is one of my favorite pieces i’ve ever written, but not because writing it came easy to me; quite the opposite. i scrapped and rewrote this three times, consulted many people for their opinions because i simply didn’t think that it was good. a few thank you’s: my babe @jensungf​ for reading the first draft when it was at barely 5k, the lovely @ncteaxhoe​ for reading it at 7k and also the night i finished it, @taempteng​ the writing god for proofing it for me, and my amazing @starlit-jeno​ for getting me through everything. also thank you @legendnct​ for hosting this collab! it’s finally at a place where i am happy and very very proud of what i’ve written. i hope you all read and enjoy!

—DAY ONE.

The ice cold water thrown over him shocks Mark awake from his post-high sleep. 

“What the hell, man?” He exclaims, wiping the water from his face as he sits up in his bed, soaked t-shirt sticking to the curve of his clavicles. His eyes meet the source of the intrusion: his roommate and best friend Lucas, holding a now empty pitcher. 

“Dude. It’s past noon. Wake up.”

Lucas’ passive words only make Mark furrow his eyebrows in annoyance. “Shut the fuck up bitch, I’m awake.” 

“Someone’s feisty today.” Lucas retorts, tossing Mark a towel as he swings his legs over the bed. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he recognizes his best friend’s chastising tone in his diluted ears. “When did you get back last night? What were you doing?”

“Calm down,” Mark groans, the volume of Lucas’ voice beginning to hurt his head. Running a hand through his now wet hair, he responds, “I was smoking with Yuta. Got back around three in the morning.” 

“Yuta,” mumbles Lucas. “You know, I don’t like him. You’re always with him, getting high or something. Exams start soon, and you’re not planning to study at all? You’ve been high every day for what, like, the past two weeks?” 

This early morning lecture is enough to cause Mark’s irritation to spike. Since when is Lucas so nitpicky? Last time he checked, Lucas enjoys partying just as much as he does. Sometimes, even more than Mark himself. “Fuck, are you my roommate or my mom?”

“I’m your best friend, is what I am. I’m worried about you. All you do is party, get high, and sleep. When was the last time you even ate?” Before Mark can even think back to answer that, Lucas continues, “You’ve been like this since you broke up with Y/N, and—”

Mark cuts him off. “Don’t say her name.”

“You’re hurting, Mark. And this isn’t the right way to handle it.”

“Oh, so you take one psychology course and you think you’re an expert or something,” Mark scoffs.

This seems to stunt his roommate for a second, before he sighs looking down at the image of his best friend sitting on the edge of his bed, gaunt eyes and all. The last time he saw his friend looking so pitiful was when his dad had passed. “I’m just worried about you. You should let me be, sometimes,” replies Lucas quietly. 

“I’m an adult,” says Mark, which causes Lucas to scoff and respond, “Then act like one.” Annoyed, Mark stands and instead takes a seat at his desk chair. 

The taller male speaks up once again, starting to tear off Mark’s bed sheets that are now wet. “You need to stop. This isn’t good for you. Stop the drugs and tell Johnny you’re done. Study for your finals. Get your act together, stop acting like an idiot, and go get her back.”

When he finishes stripping the sheets and looks up, Mark’s head is in his hands. “It’s not that easy.” 

“You love her.”

“But that doesn’t mean we’re meant to be together,” Mark finally says as he looks up, voice raised in frustration at both the situation and the fact that his best friend is calling him out for it. “We can’t be together,” he declares. “I’m only going to ruin her. She’s good. I’m bad. She has a future. I don’t. She’s everything I’m not and I can’t mess it up for her. Not after... Not after—” Lucas cuts his friend off, sensing that he’s about to start hyperventilating. 

“I know. What happened, you can’t change it. It was your fault. But don’t say you’re not meant to be together. Nothing’s going to change the past. You broke up. But nothing’s going to bring you back together but yourself.” 

Mark stares at Lucas with tired, red-rimmed eyes, wondering when his tall goofy friend had grown so much. Has everything around him changed, matured, while he stayed the same?

“How do I do that?” He finally relents.

“Make yourself good enough for her. Start with the drugs. Stop doing them.” 

He knows the truth in that statement, but doesn’t want to acknowledge it. It’s a lot easier said than done. With no words to say, Mark stands and starts to walk past his friend toward the bathroom. On the way out, he accidentally kicks his guitar, on the floor propped on the wall. “Fuck,” he curses, looking down at the old wooden thing. 

Lucas follows him out as he leaves the room, and Mark steps into the bathroom. Opening the mirror cabinet, he pulls out his prescription bottle which shakes with noise. Silently he pops a pill into his mouth and swallows it with a handful of tap water. It’s probably a bad idea on an empty stomach, but he’ll eat whatever Lucas is making right after. 

“That includes the Xanax, Mark!” Lucas’ voice calls from the kitchen. 

“Baby steps,” he responds, staring endlessly into the pitiful character watching him in the mirror. 

—THE FIRST NIGHT

It isn’t his first party, but it’s his first college party. There’s a big difference.

The scale is larger, the alcohol more plentiful. And more importantly, the shame of being under the influence is nonexistent. His ziploc of kush feels heavy in his pocket, but he knows he’ll feel lighter with its effect later on. School’s only been in session a week, yet Mark’s already decided he likes university more than high school.

He hasn’t smoked yet, but clearly others have, from the haze wafting from room to room. The music is loud, the air is musty, and there’s a cloud of visible smoke surrounding a group of people in the corner. He can smell it now, the familiar scent relaxing him in a new environment. 

He’s about to venture out to said group, catching Lucas’ ashy gray hair (a horrible decision, really) sticking out from its inhabitants, but then something catches his eye. 

In a room of dark gray smoke and purple LED lights, a white dress catches his attention. He turns his head and, faded by the blurred intensity of the smoke, there you are. Leaning with your back against the wall, alone. You’re not doing much, just standing there in your awkward lonesome looking entirely out of place while swirling the contents of your red cup in your hand. With seemingly no move to drink it, you’re staring blankly into said cup, and Mark stares blankly at you. The white fabric of your dress seems to vividly attract the iridescent purple lights of the party, leaving you to stand out in the massive crowd. Though from the way you stand out from the crowd, it seems that that’s the last thing you want to do; you’d rather blend into the scene. 

But you don’t. You’re a beacon of white light in the gray bleakness of the party, and Mark contemplates his next action. He had promised Lucas that he’d be his wingman to try and win over Yuqi. But there’s something about you that pulls him. 

Oh well, he muses to himself as he slides across the room toward you. It’s not his fault Lucas needs a wingman to talk to girls, and he doesn’t. 

“Hey,” he starts, trying to make himself heard above the music. “You’re staring at that thing like you need a refill.”

At the sound of his voice you look up as though suddenly startled. Then your eyes land on him and Mark’s not entirely sure if he’s sane, but you relax. “No thanks,” you respond politely. “I don’t drink.”

“Really?” Mark glances at his red Solo cup, half filled with some sordid mixture of vodka and Fanta that Doyoung had given him earlier.

“Is that strange?” You ask curiously as he makes move to lean on the wall next to you. Except rather than lean his back to it, he presses his shoulder to the wall to face you. 

“A bit.” Mark says as he tilts his head back, pressing the red cup to his lips as he downs the rest of the liquid in his cup. 

“Maybe. I’ve learned that there are more people who drink in college than people who don’t… I guess I fall into the second category.” When he finishes his drink, he tosses it over his shoulder. 

“Nah,” he says in response. “I don’t really drink either. Only occasionally. I’m already a mess with the weed, imagine how much I’d be if I was an alcoholic.” He nearly expects you to laugh at his lame attempt at being playful, but he’s met with silence. Still, he doesn’t miss the way your eyebrows quirk slightly upward at his words. Right now, dark hair tousled and dark ripped jeans decorating his legs, Mark thinks he looks pretty good. But you don’t seem to be as interested as girls in the past. 

“You smoke…” Your words trail and Mark finds himself enraptured by the form of your lips as you talk. His mind flies, but you continue, “How’s that like?” 

He shrugs. “It’s nothing, really. Just fun. I have some right now if you want,” he says, patting his jean pocket. 

“Oh, no,” you immediately recoil, as if it were preposterous. Immediately your eyes widen and you shake your head at him. “Not-not that people who do it are bad or anything! It’s just… not my thing.”

If you didn’t drink or enjoy any substances, what were you doing here? He asks this aloud. 

“My roommate dragged me,” you explain. “We’ve only been living together for a week since the year started but she’s… something else. I’ve seen her smoke more than I’ve seen her study.” 

You almost sound scared. This causes a laugh to leave his lips, and yours. He’s finding, in the mere two minutes of conversation you’ve made, that you are very different from the girl he thought you were across the room. You were indeed like your dress that attracted him: bright, pure, and comfortable. 

And he wants you.

Your silence brings about Mark’s introduction. “I’m Mark, by the way.” His hand stretches out to you and you stare for a second.

“Y/N.” You place your hand in his, and from the jolt he feels in his heart, the first of its kind, that is the first time that Mark Lee believes in the existence of fate. 

—FIVE HOURS CLEAN.

If someone had told Mark in his freshman year of high school that he would become a drug dealer in college, he would have directed them to his father’s church and told them to pray a bit. 

Yes, prior to his entrance to adulthood and the cruel, cruel world, Mark Lee was a church boy. A good boy. He did well in school, dedicated his weekends to church and playing basketball with his boys. Up and down the high school halls, his signature laugh could be heard at any moment he wasn’t in class. 

Then the summer before his senior year, Pastor Lee passed from cancer and Mark’s boisterous laughter became a long forgotten sound. 

It was two weeks after his dad’s funeral that he met Donghyuck, a boy with shady eyes who offered him some kush. Just want to try it, Mark had tried to reason with his conscience when he took that first hit behind the school. Then he fell into the fatal world of drugs and partying. Lucas had been there since their junior high days, sad to see his friend fall so poorly, and he had forced Mark to get his shit together for graduation that year. Barely.

So yes, he was once the bright eyed boy he always wanted to be, who read the Bible front to back and wouldn’t have known how to roll a joint, but that was fantasy. He wasn’t that anymore. He’s a college student trying to get along with the little money he can make from selling weed and other things. He had first gotten into this when he met Johnny Seo, two years above him who could tell that Mark was struggling to make tuition and rent with a job at McDonald’s. Now Johnny has graduated and Mark is still doing his dirty work for him.

That’s exactly what he’s doing now, standing outside Taeyong’s house a little past 6PM with a pouch of kush in his bag. 

It’s easy money, but that never calms his nerves. 

Even when the door opens to reveal Taeyong, shirtless and red hair in disarray, Mark doesn’t stop bouncing his foot in worry. His restlessness isn’t lost on Taeyong, who had obviously just woken up. “It’s 6PM,” Mark says, eyebrow raised at his appearance.

“I was up all night working on a track.” Taeyong’s eyes flicker to Mark’s bouncing foot. “You’re bouncier than normal,” he comments as he counts his bills in his hand. 

“Haven’t had my fix today.” Mark explains simply as the older male hands over a wad of cash. As he counts it silently, Taeyong points his thumb over his shoulder to his living room. 

“Wanna come in and hit some?”

Mark looks up at his offer and sighs inwardly. It would be rather easy to just give in and smoke a bit with someone he trusted, and he wouldn’t even be paying for the weed. He’s tempted. After weeks of being stoned nearly every day, he’s starting to itch for a fix. But Lucas’ gruff voice rings in his mind and he knows that if he gives in, only five hours in, he’ll never be able to live with himself. So for now he does it for Lucas, but maybe in time he’ll see that it was for himself after all. 

“I’m good.” Mark nearly shoves the pouch of green into Taeyong’s grasp, wanting to be away from it as soon as possible. The red-haired recipient only blinks.

“You’re giving it up or something?”

“Or something,” mumbles Mark sullenly, tucking his hands into his pockets. 

“That’s good,” Taeyong declares after a short silence. Mark looks up, meeting Taeyong’s suddenly sincere eyes. “Good for you. I really couldn’t believe that you got into that stuff with Johnny’s crowd anyways.” Mark only shrugs in response. He’d long since stopped deliberating over that. This is his life now. “Still doing music?”

“In name, yeah, I’m still a music major. But I don’t have time to play.” The last time he touched his guitar was this morning when he had kicked it. The last time before that… he doesn’t know if he can’t remember due to a marijuana induced haze or if it’s because it really has been that long. 

Taeyong continues. “You know, you don’t have to do this stuff. You’re a talented guy, you’re strong. If you could dedicate yourself to your music like you do to dealing, you wouldn’t need to deal.”

This brings about a sigh from Mark. Who is Taeyong to tell him what to do, anyways? Last time he checked, he was the customer, not Mark. “You all make it sound so easy.”

“Trust me. You can do it.”

—THE FIRST KISS

The first time Mark kisses you, it’s cold outside. 

He’s walking you back to your sharehouse, down the streets of town, when he asks, “Be honest with me and tell me if that date sucked.” 

It’s been a couple weeks since the two of you first met that fated night at Doyoung’s party, and you’ve only now allowed him to take you out on a date. He doesn’t know that it’s your first. Well, in some ways, it’s his also. 

Mark’s been on a few dates, sure, but those all ended up with him getting his dick wet in the dark parking lot of a Burger King or something. He’d normally take them out for fast food, and finish with the usual fun stuff in his back seat. This time it’s… different. Not only does he figure that you wouldn’t be down for that type of date, but something in him wants it to be different. The only problem is he doesn’t know how to plan a good date.

He still took you out to get McDonalds’, but instead of retreating to the backseat, he drove the two of you to the movie theatre. It was probably a dumb choice of him in hindsight, deciding to watch an action movie, but something about the way you hid your face into his neck when one of the characters got punched out made him smile.

“No, it wasn’t… bad,” you respond, swinging your interlaced hands. You had surprised him earlier when you had grabbed his hand upon exiting his car, curling your fingers together. 

“You’re lying,” he sighs. 

“No, I’m not. Really,” you reassure him as the two of you approach the door of your home. After all, how can you have a bad date when you’ve never been on a date before? You have nothing to compare it to. “I had a good time. Actually… it was my first date.”

Mark blinks, having not expected that to be so. A groan leaves his lips as his free hand comes up to run through his hair. “Oh god, and I ruined it.”

“No, no, it was perfect. I wouldn’t change it for anything.” You smile a sickeningly sweet, charming smile at him, and he sighs. You’re too good for a guy like him. 

He’s beyond surprised actually—even though you know of his habits, his hobby of wasting time and rolling joints, you haven’t run away like others. And he likes you. A lot. Even though everything tells him that what he does is bad for you, he still wants you. You’re a comfortable presence in his life. 

“You know,” you suddenly start. Mark looks up, intrigued. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

He wonders if the surprise on his face is painfully evident. “Really? Like, ever?”

His question is met with a shake of your head, and he blinks. So you’ve never drank or smoked. That, he can believe. But the fact that you’ve never kissed anyone? Sometimes… you shock him with your boldness. Like earlier when you grabbed his hand and at your first meeting when you had asked for his phone number before he could. But in some moments like now, he realizes just how the duality of your personality comes into play. 

“Why’s that?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, it never really felt right,” you explain as the two of you approach your doorstep. As he escorts you up the steps and to your front door, he furrows his brows deeper. Why were you telling him this?

“Does it feel right, now?” He asks softy, gaze flickering to your interlaced hands as he turns to face you. His hand reaches forward, cupping your cheek, the touch soft despite the callused skin of his hands. 

“Yes,” you respond gently, simpering smile on your roseate tiers. 

The smile on your face is sweet and pure, two words that Mark isn’t.

A flood of relief shows on Mark’s face, and you bite down on your lower lip as excitement bubbles in your stomach. “Can I kiss you?” A response quickly follows. For some reason he can’t quite figure out, you let him into the maze that is you. Despite the leather jacket, his messy hair, and the lingering smell of weed on his clothes, you want him just as much as he wants you. Even though you both know that he isn’t the type of guy that you normally like, the type of guy that your mother would approve of, you trust him. It’s bewildering to him. 

Then he guides you to him. Within seconds his lips are on yours, and you melt into him. It’s surely not Mark’s first kiss but it feels like it. The initial awkwardness, then the heat on his cheeks as you both fall into a rhythm. It feels right, like it was meant to be, just as Mark had hoped. 

You’re like the kind of irreplicable drug that Mark has sought after for years. The kind that brings a euphoric high which burns his lungs and twists his stomach, but in all the right ways.

—29 HOURS CLEAN.

The smell filling the kitchen leads Lucas to scrunch his nose in distaste when he exits his room. “Dude, what the hell is that smell?”

His answer lies in the pan on the stove and Mark standing in the kitchen, wielding a wooden spoon. Clad in only basketball shorts, he looks absolutely foreign to the environment. Lucas sighs. “Please tell me you’re not boiling crack right here in our kitchen.”

The face the Korean makes is scandalized. “What—no, what the fuck? It’s mapo tofu. I’d be insane to try and make crack cocaine.” He adds under his breath, “In the apartment.”

Lucas leans back against the counter, cocking an eyebrow. “Then why are you cooking mapo tofu of all things? I haven’t seen you eat anything but ramen and eggs probably since we moved in here. And—put on a shirt if you’re cooking, or an apron at least. You look like a caveman.” 

“Well,” sounds Mark with a roll of his eyes at his friend’s expected lecturing. “I had a shirt on, but I spilled some spicy shit on it and took it off. And I,” he pauses, turning off the stove. “I thought we could eat your favorite food together before we head out to Hendery’s party. You know, as a… sorry for being a bitch yesterday apology.”

The taller man narrows his eyes, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to make sense of his best friend’s words. “So you… decided to make my favorite food because you felt bad that I had to wake you up and take care of your shit?”

“I guess, yeah.”

Lucas laughs, a deep sound, whilst shaking his head. “Dude, I’ve been doing that since middle school and you’re only apologizing now?”

Mark purses his lips, making a face of annoyance. “Better late than never.”

“I guess. But sorry, I wouldn’t want to eat your mapo tofu anyways. Smells more like my week’s laundry than food. Maybe next time just order from that Chinese place around the corner that I actually like,” advises Lucas.

A pitiful laugh leaves Mark’s lips. “Duly noted.”

“And anyways, I’m not going to Hendery’s party. I have plans.” This causes Mark to finally take a good look at his friend. He’s normally well-dressed, but tonight he looks even better, a little too fancy for the typical college frat party. Before Mark can even question what these other plans are, Lucas explains, “I have a date with—”

“Yuqi,” finishes Mark for him. “Figured.” Lucas grabs his wallet on the counter, nodding before tucking it into his pant pocket. “Is that why you haven’t been partying with us? Or why you’ve suddenly been on this, ‘Mark, sobriety is key’ rant?” Mark questions, lowering his voice to imitate that of his roommate’s. At Lucas’ silence, Mark scoffs. “Dude, your relationship is so fucked up, how many times are you guys going to try to make it work when it doesn’t?”

All that leaves Lucas is a sigh, but Mark continues. “This is what, your third breakup so far? And fourth time trying to make it work?”

“Some things are worth the effort,” replies Lucas easily, slipping on his shoes. As he reaches to tie his laces, Mark continues, “She takes up all of your time now, you haven’t hung with us in months, and all for a relationship that’s destined to fail.”

“Nothing’s destined to fail, Mark. It’s all about how hard you’re willing to work for it.” His voice is calm, but there’s something building beneath it. To this, Mark sighs, and says, “You’ve changed, man.”

Lucas grabs his keys, clearly at the limit with Mark’s prodding. “Sometimes people are worth changing for, Mark. Yuqi forgave me for what I did, and I forgave her for what she did. We’re trying, okay? We’re not walking away. I’m sure…” The taller male pauses on his words, as though contemplating them, before continuing. “I’m sure Y/N would’ve forgiven you for what you did, but you walked away. And that’s where we’re different.”

It hits him, and Mark tightens his jaw. Yes, his relationship with Y/N was destined to fail too, there was no denying it. To fight with his friend who he had just tried to make amends with, or apologize? He goes with the latter, only because he’s too exhausted for a yelling match right now. “Lucas, I’m sorry, okay? I’m a little… on edge.”

“I know. I’ve known you for years,” chuckles Lucas softly. “I know how you get.”

“Yeah. Have fun on your date, though.”

His best friend nods tightly. “Yeah, I will. But if you care about what I told you, don’t go to the party tonight. You know you won’t be able to control yourself.” Mark nods, sighing. “And throw out that mapo tofu while you’re at it. It stinks, and not in the good way mapo tofu’s supposed to smell.”

Mark rolls his eyes while Lucas’ laugh fills his ears. “Just leave already.”

With a few smooth movements he’s already slid out the apartment door. A sigh leaves him, alone in the apartment. He does as Lucas says, tossing his attempt at dinner in the trash. It’s gonna be a long night.

—THE FIRST TASTE.

The first time that you kiss Mark, however, it’s hot inside his apartment and sweat sticks the fabric of your tank top to your stomach. 

That doesn’t stop you from cuddling on his couch however, and you gaze up at him from your position under his arm to watch as your boyfriend, focused on the TV, lifts his blunt to his lips and takes a long drag. Underneath his arm, you observe how his lips wrap around the circumference of it, sucking in a sharp breath before releasing it into the air. He knows that over your time together, you’ve come to accept the smoking. It’s obviously clear to him that you don’t particularly approve, but Mark’s responsible enough to control himself. Now however, as you gaze up at him, you realize just how attractive your boyfriend is. Dark hair tousled and arms bared through his tank top, he looks so, so good. Somehow, he looks even better with the cig in his hand. 

You never would have thought you’d fall for such a guy like him, but you keep falling. He’s not the good guy that you dreamed of, but that’s okay, because you make him good. 

“Mark?” You ask, still looking up at him. 

He hums in response, turning to look at you. 

Your voice is soft as you ask, “Do you believe in destiny?”

Your boyfriend blinks at the sudden question. “Define destiny.”

“That like, we all have a predetermined fate. That everything happens for a reason, and every challenge is just a small piece in a bigger puzzle. That we all have soulmates we’re destined to be with.” Mark’s lips purse, pouting just the slightest in thought, a habit of his. 

Does he?

It’s a question, because he used to. He used to be a good old Christian boy, of course he believed that God had a plan for everyone. Every tribulation was just something that would make him stronger in the end. Unfortunately, the last time Mark can remember being at church, he fucked one of the choir girls in the Bible study room. 

He can’t really pinpoint when he stopped believing in fate. God? Yeah, sure he still believes in him, though the big guy upstairs will probably send him south for his irrefutable sins. But fate? Not really. If fate was real then it was really messed up to make him such a failure. 

But, he realizes, gazing at the strands of hair matted to your forehead as a result of the hot summer weather, and the pure adulation in your eyes as you gaze up to him, that perhaps because of you, his destiny isn’t too bad. Sure, he’s a fuck up with addictions and demons, but he does pretty well by keeping you happy. Because you make him happy. A smooth, suave smile spreads across his lips like butter. “I didn’t before, but I do now.”

Your eyebrow perks up. “Now you do? Why’s that?”

His arm wrapped lazily around your shoulders allows him to pull your face close. With the same smile, he presses a number of kisses to your cheek (much to your sweet protest, complaining about his sweat and smoke). As though he attempts to mask his words against your skin, he mumbles, “Because I found you.”

Mark has never told you that he loves you; it’s a bit too intimate for him, who’s never been vulnerable in that way, and you, whose every first is him. 

But he doesn’t have to say it, because you know it. 

Your lips break out into a flustered smile, though you try to hide it from him. His quiet, unsaid confession fills you with glee and more importantly, confidence. 

“Babe,” you tell him. This grabs his attention, because you rarely use such sweet nicknames. He attempts to respond, but you’re already sitting up and swinging yourself over to straddle his lap. Your movement brings about confusion on his features, and you take a deep breath. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in this position with him, but the first time you’ve made the initiative to do it yourself. Mark was always leading you. So you lean forward, placing your hands on his shoulders, and you kiss him. 

You can probably taste the smoke on your tongue, but you’ve grown accustomed to that. Mark kisses back and grips your waist with his free hand, both shocked and amused by your sudden courage. Everything feels right, it’s like it’s destiny. He’s about to slip his tongue into your mouth but you break the connection, choosing instead to linger your lips over his. Your breath is hot on his as you finally speak. 

“I want a puff.”

“Are you sure?” He looks up at you, nearly breathless at the sight of you atop him. Lip gloss smeared from your heated kiss, you look delectable. Your wide eyes, once depicting innocence, are now focused and curious. He knows you don’t necessarily approve of his habits, but here you are, sitting on top of him looking irresistible and asking for a taste. 

“Yes,” you confirm, as though reassuring yourself. Mark had always liked you, been attracted to you because of the notion that you were innocent, pure, bright. Everything he was not. He had never wanted to taint you, yet his confession still hangs in the air.

But as he lifts his blunt to his mouth, taking a long drag before blowing the diluted smoke into your waiting cavern, he starts to worry that this would be the beginning of a long downward spiral which would place no blame anywhere but on him. 

—44 HOURS CLEAN.

The withdrawal forces him from his sleep at 5AM. 

Mark wakes in a cold sweat, itching for a fix. That’s when he realizes how deep he really is. 

Shit. 

His fingers are shaking, so he moves to occupy them with the only thing he can think of. He drags himself out of bed, grabs his guitar, and makes his way out to the living room. Plopping himself down on the floor next to a window, he attempts to refamiliarize himself with the strings that he had abandoned. Lucas is still asleep, so he plucks quietly. 

He has long since forgotten what it was like to lose himself in the sound. 

There was once a time when he was passionate for something other than haze. It was music. The first time he touched a guitar, magic sprung through his fingers and he knew: he was made for this. Somehow, majoring in music composition and being forced to take so many theory and history classes had caused his passion to simmer. Now, it slowly burns again. 

He doesn’t realize how the hours pass and the sun begins to shine between the blinds. 

His mind brushes over what Taeyong had told him two days ago. Is this what he had been missing all this time? All the hours he spent blinded by a foggy smoked haze, had he been neglecting his own love for music? It’s amazing what he can accomplish when he takes a break from that life. 

He starts to feel like the old Mark again.

For a second, he stops strumming and directs his gaze to outside the window. There’s not much to see except the college town, with the glimpse of the university itself just atop the hill, but he stares and relishes in the sight of the sunlight casting a glow over the town. 

A knock on the door interrupts his deliberations.

A glance to the clock tells him it’s barely 9AM. Who would be here so early? There are two options, he decides as he stands from the floor to stretch his legs, resting his guitar on the wall. It’s either Yuqi, Lucas’ renowned off-again on-again girlfriend, or Johnny coming to deliver the week’s set. 

When he opens the door, the visitor’s face is blocked by a box, but he knows those shoes. Those white ballet flats with purple bows were always your favorite. 

Suddenly the box lowers and Mark is finally face to face with you, his ex-girlfriend. He hasn’t seen your face in the months since you’ve called it quits, even though he’s spent countless moments just staring at the leftover pictures on his phone. You look surprised to see him. 

“Oh—Mark. Lucas said you probably wouldn’t be awake.” So you had been keeping in touch with Lucas? This is news to him. Had his best friend been sharing that he had been basically wasting away the past few months without you?

“Couldn’t sleep,” explains Mark almost sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. For a moment he’s glad he had the mind to put on a shirt before coming outside.

“Oh…” You trail, your gaze traveling down to the box absentmindedly. 

He doesn’t mean to be rude, but the surprise at seeing you on his doorstep makes him a bit gruff. You’re still the same as before: same face, same shoes, same bright eyes. But there’s something about you, about your aura that’s different. More mature. More independent. Because you don’t need him anymore. “What are you doing here?”

If you’re taken aback by his coarseness, you don’t show it. “I brought a box of your stuff. It’s just... stuff that was left at my house.” You gesture to the box in your hands, and Mark is quick to take it from your arms. He prays you don’t take note of the way his hands shake. 

Slowly he places it on the floor next to the door and when he stands again, you’re leaning back and forth on your heels looking rather awkward. He doesn’t ask for an explanation but you give one anyways. You had always had a habit of talking too much when you felt nervous. “I’ve had it since...” Your breakup, but neither of you want to say it. “I put it together a couple months ago but put off bringing it over. But I figured, uh, the school year’s over in a couple weeks so I should just do it. I texted Lucas, he said he’d be awake to grab it but..”

“He’s still asleep,” Mark completes for you. 

“Yeah,” you say simply. No longer having a box to occupy your hands, you hold them behind your back which only furthers the idea that you’re uncomfortable in his presence. It makes him sad almost, how much things have changed.

He thinks back to what Lucas had told him at the start of the weekend. Maybe it was possible to change things back to the way they used to be. “Do you want to come inside? I have some coffee, or some—”

You look at him with blinking eyes. “I don’t dr—”

“I know.” He knows you don’t drink coffee. Of course he does. “I have tea. It’s even peppermint, your favorite.”

“You drink peppermint tea?” You look at him, incredulous. 

“I don’t. It’s leftover from when I bought it for you. I just... haven’t thrown it out yet.”

That’s what your love had done to him: turned him from a brooding boy into a softened man, so much that he was willing to keep your favorite drink around just in case you’d ever come back and want it.

“Oh,” you sound. Your teeth bite down gently on your bottom lip, gnawing it in contemplation as you look away from him momentarily. When you look back, he can see you’ve made your decision. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Mark. I’m sorry.”

He expected it, but it doesn’t sting any less. “That’s okay. I understand.” An attempt at a smile is displayed on his face, but it doesn’t reflect any of the radiance in the smile that you mirror back at him. It’s small, the tips of your lips barely lifting, but it’s enough to remind him that you are indeed all that is good in the world, and he needs you. He loves you.

Maybe he can’t love you right now but one day, he’ll be good enough to deserve you. That day isn’t today, but it’ll come eventually. “I’ll see you around,” you say to him.

“I hope so,” is his response.

You give him another small smile before turning to leave. “I hope you’re doing okay, Mark.”

He is, or he’s trying to. When you leave, he closes the door and returns the box to his bedroom before opening it up. Inside, numerous hoodies gifted to you because they became too small for him but were still huge on you. Old songbooks from his high school days that he no longer needed. A teddy bear he had gifted you on your first anniversary. 

Pushing the box aside, he grabs a notebook and his music theory textbook. Maybe it actually would do him some good to study. 

—THE FIRST TEAR.

“What the hell, Mark?”

You don’t curse often, so when you do, it wakes him. When you find him in his room, he’s knocked out with his body half on the bed and the other half slung over the edge. His hair sticks out in numerous fluffy tufts over his pillow, but you can still smell the weed off of him. 

“He only came back like, three hours ago.” He hears Lucas’ voice selling him out, and he groans into the pillow, only lifting his head to grumble at his roommate. 

“Snitch bitch,” he says, his voice groggy and scratched. 

“Don’t get mad at him,” you suddenly speak up. “At least he answered my calls when I was calling, worried where you were because you hadn’t texted me since,” you stop to check your phone. “5PM last night!”

“I told you, I was going to Johnny’s party,” responds Mark, sitting up in his bed, head still spinning. Rubbing his eyes, he sits up, looking rather disheveled and hungover. 

“Yeah, and you never texted me to let me know you were home. How would I have known if you had overdosed, or passed out drunk, or got in a car accident? Or just died?” As your voice rises, reaching a volume you’ve rarely ever employed, you clear your throat to calm yourself and turn to Lucas. “Thanks, Lucas. I appreciate it.”

“Any time,” he responds, giving a nod before walking away, likely disappearing into his room.

When you turn back to gaze into Mark’s room, he’s slipped on a shirt. “What the hell were you doing out so late? 9AM is when you should be waking up, Mark, not falling asleep. Finals are next week, you were supposed to meet me at the library an hour ago!”

He makes an annoyed expression at your chastising, and you gaze at him with expectant eyes, awaiting an explanation. All he does is grimace and say, “Babe, can you like, quiet down? I’m hungover, your voice is too loud.” 

Your jaw drops. 

For a moment you stay like that, until you continue speaking, words coming out faster than Mark can understand them. “I’m just trying to help, Mark. You’ve partied more than you’ve studied this year, and I’m not going to let you just get away with it. Almost every weekend I have to stay up worrying about you, wondering when you’ll get home, unable to sleep until you text me that you’re home and okay.” 

“Maybe you should stop worrying then,” he retorts.

“Maybe stop giving me reasons to worry?”

He rolls his eyes, laying back in his bed. “Maybe you should come with me then.”

You quickly reply, “Maybe you should stop partying.”

“Maybe you should stop trying to control me,” he finally spits.

Once again, you’re rendered speechless. And when you turn your head away, focusing your gaze to the hallway instead of at him, Mark thinks he’s won. But then you sniff, an indication that your sensitive heart has once again been touched with tears. “Please,” you finally say, voice weak. This is the timbre Mark is used to hearing from you, not the tone you had used earlier when yelling at him. In this moment, he’s not sure which one he hates more. “Please stop this.”

In a swift movement you reach forward, gathering yourself on your knees before his bed. You grab his hand, pressing your lips to it as a tear makes its way down your cheek. “Please, please, please… please stop the drugs, Mark. It’s made you this… this terrible person and I know you’re not like this.” Suddenly, you’re crying into the palm of his hand while he gazes at you in surprise. “Missing dates, staying out late, yelling, I know that’s not you.”

“Y/N—”

“Please, just call Johnny and tell him you can’t do this anymore. Tell him you’re done. Please, for me.” 

Your begging causes Mark’s jaw to tighten subconsciously. What you’re hoping for is a better Mark, a different person. He’s not that person that you want him to be, he can never be that way. This is how he is and how he’ll always be. This is his fate, to be a lowlife drug dealer barely passing college, and if you can’t handle it then—“You know I can’t do that. You promised you’d be here through everything, all the good and the bad.” 

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you destroy yourself like this, Mark.”

He rips his hand from your grasp, causing a slight squeak of surprise to leave your lips. It’s almost as if he’s not in control of himself, because he blows up. “Can’t you just be like a good girlfriend and love me through the bad shit? I’m trying my best here.”

But is he really? Suddenly, as though empowered by some kind of intangible strength, you rise to your feet, the sadness in your eyes now quickly replaced by anger. “I do love you, that’s why I’m acting like this, you asshole!” You wipe your tears furiously with the back of your hand before glowering down at him. “But if you can’t keep your mind sober long enough to see that then call me when you can.” 

He registers the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut, causing it to ring in his ears. Within the blink of an eye, you’re gone. Fate is a really messed up bitch for this. 

—1 WEEK CLEAN.

It’s been a week. 

A week since the last time he touched anything, though he had been tempted when Yuta invited him over for some sativa. The drinking and partying isn’t hard to let go of. It’s the weed, because it got him through the hardest days. 

A week in, and he’s pretty proud of himself. 

Nowadays, he tries to occupy his shaking hands with guitar or studying but he’s started playing so often that his hands are now raw and in pain. Today, because the weather’s nice outside and his fingers hurt like hell, he decides to take a walk.

It’s aimless at first, just exploring the streets around his apartment on foot. But then ten, fifteen, thirty minutes pass, and without knowing it, he’s arrived at his destination. Johnny’s place. Standing in front of the door, eyes boring into the bright red paint of the front door, Mark feels himself start to slip. No, he decides, he has to do this. This is the right thing.

A shaky knock on the door is followed by another stronger one. He waits a minute before trying again, yet as his hand lifts to place another knock on it, it slides open to reveal Johnny himself in casual wear. “Hey,” greets Johnny, giving Mark a nod. “What’s up? I told you I’d drop the next batch off at your place, you didn’t have to come out here.”

At Johnny’s question, Mark feels his breath caught in his throat. Not only is the guy taller than him and towering over him in every aspect, but he could definitely throw Mark under the bus for his own crimes. But no… he wouldn’t do that, right? He had done enough for Johnny over the past three years that he would let him off easily, surely? A gulp is heard in Mark’s throat as he straightens his position in front of Johnny. 

“That’s the thing. I… I don’t want to do this anymore.”

For a moment, Mark thinks that the taller man will be angry. Johnny stands before him, eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“I just need to.”

Johnny immediately starts to argue, tilting his head. “You know you’re my best seller, though. No one sells as much as you, and I trust you with all the big deliveries. Who am I supposed to give the heroin to now… Ten? As if, Mark.” He scoffs, shaking his head.

“I…” Mark starts, though he stops. “I need to stop. I’ll finish the batch from this week, I promise. I only have like, two deliveries left but I just, it’s not healthy for me. And it’s not because I’m planning to sell you out or anything, or find someone else but I just can’t do this anymore.” He finds himself ranting, finding more interest in anything but Johnny’s face. “I’m not happy, I’m angry and anxious all the time, and being around the drugs only makes me want to do it more, and I just… I just can’t, John.”

When he finishes his unfiltered rant, he looks back to the taller male and tries to read his expression. Will he be angry? If his earlier debate was anything, he definitely wouldn’t let Mark off without a fight. 

But instead, the older nods. “I get it. Just finish your deliveries for this week and call it done.”

Mark blinks at Johnny’s easy acquiescence. “T-That’s it? You’re not going to fight more?”

“You want me to?” Johnny asks, cocking an eyebrow that’s almost mocking. 

“No, but I…” 

“Thought you’d be worth the fight?”

“No, that’s not it.” Mark shakes his head. “I just…”

“Mark,” sighs Johnny, standing straight from where he had been leaning rather casually against the doorframe. “I’m not stupid, okay? I know that drug dealing is hard for you. And I’m also not oblivious, I know that you and your girlfriend broke up, okay? Yuta told me what happened with the coke, and I wasn’t surprised when you refused to sell it anymore.”

Mark frowns even deeper at the mention of it, but Johnny continues. “I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do. If you say it’s not good for you, then it’s not good for you.”

“But…” Mark starts, but doesn’t find the words to continue. It was… that easy. “Okay. Uh, thanks, I guess. For everything?”

“Sure. Just don’t come crawling back when you can’t make rent on your McDonalds’ salary. Male strippers make pretty good money, if you’re interested.” It’s clear Johnny’s joking, so Mark rolls his eyes and laughs, though the sound is somewhat tight. 

“I’d love to talk to you some more about ways to get a hustle going, but I have to go find a new dealer, and teach Ten how to stop giving weed to everyone he meets because he thinks they need a pick-me-up.” Johnny sighs, as though the life of a drug dealer is the most difficult of them all, which in Mark’s experience, it might just be. 

“Alright. Uh, later, John.”

Johnny nods in acknowledgement before shutting the door. Mark breaths out a heavy breath. 

That went… surprisingly well. Maybe Lucas was right, maybe it really was this easy all this time. Perhaps he had always just been the one believing that it was difficult, because he had made it so. He had been stressing over it all this time, but Johnny was more easygoing about it than he’d thought.

As he walks the path home, he thinks he deserves a reward for his endeavors. It’s a bit selfish maybe, but he opens his phone, and you’re on his speed dial. 

“Hello?” You ask, voice bright as always but clearly a bit guarded from the name that had flashed across your screen. 

“Y/N,” Mark breathes out. It’s only been a few days since you had swung by the apartment. 

“Hey, uh… what’s up?”

He doesn’t quite know either. He had quite honestly been a bit impulsive in pressing on your contact, and now that you truly rest across the phone from him, he has no idea what his purpose was. “Um, nothing much, I just wanted to tell you…” A soft breath leaves his lips. Will you be happy for him? “I told Johnny that I quit, that I’m done.” 

There’s a momentary pause on the line, and Mark begins to worry that you’ve hung up when you finally breathe out, “That’s good, Mark. I’m… I’m proud of you.”

Proud. He had only been hoping for a “good for you,” at most, but to hear that you’re proud of him, it makes him smile to the ground as he walks the trail back to his apartment. Fuck, you’ve made him weak. “Thanks.”

“I guess you really are doing well then,” you say.

When he gets home, riding the high of his successes from standing up to Johnny to calling you, he flushes his Xanax pills down the toilet and watches as they swirl away into oblivion, as if they had never existed in his life in the first place.

—THE FIRST CRASH.

Mark connects his lips to your neck and suckles on it softly, drawing a moan out of you. The sound you make goes straight to his dick, and he releases a breathy groan against your skin. “Fuck, you sound so pretty, princess.”

Princess—that’s the name he’s given you, because all he wants to do is treat you right. And he does, especially in times like these, where you feel the heat of his body on top of yours and he devours your moans in his mouth. 

He currently lays between your spread legs, your combined figure lost in his bed sheets as he softly grinds his hardened core against yours. He’s still got his jeans on while you’re laying only clad in your panties, yet the feel of the denim is enough to have you moaning. You tilt your head back as a light mewl leaves your lips, your body subconsciously grinding down on his. 

It had been complete heaven for the both of you when you had given him your virginity, your purity, at the beginning of this year, and since then you have been basically insatiable. You had never felt such desire for anyone before him. Now as his hands rub small circles over your clothed clit, you want him once more.

You’re shaking your head, so needy for him but he doesn’t relent, only smirking more while he continues rubbing sinful circles on your clit. “Tell me what you want.” He wants to hear your beg. 

Voice soft and breathy, you say, “Please, Mark, I—”

The doorbell rings. It’s heard through the apartment and Mark groans, rolling his eyes while attempting to keep you going. “Keep going. It’s probably just Lucas forgetting his key again.”

Though the mood was momentarily killed, you both try to fall back into place. Now his fingers have left your clit, instead pulling your panties down to your midthigh. “Shit, you’re soaking,” he moans out in amazement, running a finger through your wet folds. As much as he wants to dive in and fuck you until you’re cumming all over his cock, he needs to hear your sweet voice dripping dirty words for him first. Easily, he slides a finger in, to which you groan at the stretch. But it’s not enough. 

“Don’t tease me, please.”

He smirks, slowly sliding his singular digit out of your sensitive core whilst he thumbs your clit. “Go on then, princess. Tell me what you need.”

“Fuck,” you curse and he finds it so hot. “I… I want you to—”

The doorbell again. This time, Mark audibly curses. “Fucking hell,” he sighs, removing his fingers from where you need him. Instead, he moves up and places a sweet kiss on your lips. “I’ll be right back.”

He’s still fully dressed, so he simply opens the door and slips outside before closing it again behind him. As he’s walking down the hall, the doorbell rings once again, causing him to roll his eyes. God, how many times was Lucas going to lose his keys?

The person at the door, however, isn’t his roommate. It’s Johnny, holding a black gym bag. Mark already knows what it is. He runs a hand through his hair, already crazy from how you had been running your hands through it. “Hey, John,” he says, taking the bag clearly in a rush. It’s Sunday, which means Johnny’s dropping off Mark’s deliveries for the week. 

“Hey, man,” greets Johnny, handing over the list. Mark doesn’t even bother to check that everything’s there, so the older man raises an eyebrow. “Busy?” He asks, eyeing Mark’s disheveled clothes and the fresh hickey on his collarbone. 

“Kind of.” 

“Nice. See you next week,” says Johnny with a click of his tongue and a wink, then Mark closes the door and he’s gone. Now, back to what’s important. He slings the strap over his shoulder and makes his way back to his bedroom. As soon as he enters, you look up at him with wide, anticipating eyes. 

You’ve pulled your undergarments back on, much to his displeasure. Mark drops the dark bag on the floor in the corner, and your eyes find it. “Johnny came?”

“Yeah. Just dropping off for the week,” replies Mark, his mind not exactly on it as he takes off his shirt, tossing it somewhere. He moves back over your figure on the bed, lips on the curve of your breast fully intending to return things to the intensity they were at just earlier. 

Though his lips trail up to meet yours and his hands begin tugging your panties back down, he can tell from the way you’re kissing him that you’re not fully there. So when you moan his name, he knows it’s not out of pleasure. “Mark,” you say softly against his lips.

“Hmm,” he responds, callused hands gripping your thighs and leading them open. He’s about to slip his hand inside your panties, but your hand stops him. 

“Can I have some?” When he looks at you, your eyes are not focused on him, but the bag in the corner. Your eyes are faded, clouded as your both ascend to a place of pleasure. You… wanted drugs? Sure, he’s blown a few times in your mouth but in your relationship spanning over a year already, you’ve never directly asked for any.

His dark eyebrows furrow. “Are you sure?”

You bite down on your lip. “What’s in it?” 

“I don’t know,” reveals Mark truthfully as he gets off of you and makes his way over to the package, picking it up and placing it on the bed. You’re sitting up now, peering over the bag with interest as he unzips the gym bag open. Though the exterior looks unsuspicious, the bag opens up to reveal bags of white powder and green kush. 

Cocaine. 

It’s dangerous. Mark gazes down at it, biting down on his lip. 

“Is that… cocaine?” You ask, not unaware of the extreme drug sitting in your boyfriend’s room. 

He nods, almost ashamed. “Yeah.”

A silence falls over the two of you, both just staring at the white bags. It’s almost unbearable, how much Mark wants to throw the bag away and just resume your activities, but you’re still gazing into the bag with contemplation, fear, and even… curiosity. 

“So, can I have some?” You ask again. 

Mark sputters for a second, blinking. “Babe. I—are you sure?” 

You nod, eyes dark and curious. “Yeah.” At your confirmation, sounding like it was more to assure yourself than him, Mark stares holes into the white substance. It’s filling the bag to the brim—surely whoever he has to deliver it to won’t notice a line’s worth missing. 

So it’s with steady yet hesitant hands that he pulls a pack from the bag, directing you. “Grab your credit card,” he says, walking over to his nightstand. Unzipping the bag just the slightest, he pours out a small amount. Just a little bit, he swears. 

When you return to his side with your said card in your hand, he takes it from you and lines up the coke on the table. In a neat little line, it’s set up for you. “Okay,” he starts, looking at you. “Just hold down one nostril and—”

“I know how to do it. I’ve seen it at parties.” You interrupt him as you kneel, finally head level with the nightstand. It’s true; the few parties you have attended alongside your boyfriend, there’s more than enough depictions. He watches with interest as you lean forward, holding one side of your nose closed, and snort up the entire line in one go. 

First, you cough into the nightstand. When you turn and look at him, you’re wiping the remaining white dust from your nose. “You okay?” Your boyfriend asks you, to which you nod. “It takes a few minutes to work.”

Again, you nod silently, sitting down on the bed and gesturing Mark to come to you. When he approaches, you lay back in his bed, looking up at him with lustful eyes. “Now, hurry up and fuck me.”

The words are so rare from you. It’s all he needs to hear, unbuckling his belt and dragging his jeans to the floor in two swift movements. Within moments he’s back on top of you, feeling your heat once again. He starts slow, pressing kisses to your stomach, breasts, and neck while waiting for the drug to take effect. He knows the exact moment that it begins to work; your pupils immediately dilate, and suddenly you’re a loose, moaning mess underneath him. 

Your muscles relaxed, Mark immediately presses a long kiss to your swollen lips while dragging down your panties. He would usually opt for more foreplay, but he’s waited long enough. He pulls away for the shortest moment to slip on a condom, but before you know it he’s already flush against you again. 

It feels so good, even just his touch on you. You’re so sensitive, senses heightened by the drug that you feel everything: his large hands on your breasts over your tips, his lips marking your neck. When he leads his dick to your dripping entrance, you watch in anticipation, though you’re shaking. 

As he finally slides in, finally filling you up, you tilt your head back and let out a loud moan, the loudest yet. It just feels so good, you feel so full, and he’s so, so deep.

Everything is…. so good. Euphoria creeps into your headspace. 

He pulls out, and you moan again. “Ah,” you gasp sharply, feeling every ridge, every muscle stretched as he slides out, only the tip inside you. Then he slams back in, causing your back to arch and your toes to curl. “Oh, fuck,” you moan out again, eyes closed tightly, lost in the pleasure. 

Mark’s hand grips at your hips, eyebrows furrowed in focus as he falls into a rhythm. He would have taken some himself, but he wanted to watch you fall apart under him. Suddenly you grab at his free hand, and he intertwines your fingers. You’re squeezing him, his hand and his dick altogether, so tightly as you’re lost in your pleasure.

“Fuck, princess, you feel so good,” he moans out, closing his eyes. He immediately opens them again, not wanting to miss a second of you. “You love my cock, huh?”

Breathless, you nod without words. 

“And to think, just a year ago you were an innocent little prude. Now look at you, taking my cock like the slut you are. High on my drugs, fuck—” Mark taunts, moaning aloud as you suddenly clench around him. “Fuck, you feel so tight.” 

When he adds his hands to your clit, rubbing the nub in circles the way he knows you love it, the pleasure is heightened for your sensitive body. Your temperature rises, your heartbeat uncontrollable—all the telltale signs of that euphoric high. 

A few minutes pass like this, you completely out of it and moaning at the top of your lungs whilst your boyfriend fades in and out of your vision. You grasp onto his arm, tilting your head back. “Mark, I’m—I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he musters out, never stopping his hips. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock like the good girl you are.” 

And you do, losing it as you tighten around his length, walls clenching repeatedly. This brings him over the edge, cumming into the condom with a shaky breath. He keeps the rhythm going for both your sakes, though his thrusts go erratic as he comes down. 

You do the same, your thirty minutes of elation coming to an end soon. As soon as you’ve come down from your orgasmic high, you immediately relax. Your breathing is labored as you relax into his sheets. 

Mark pulls from you with a low groan. By the time he’s tossed the condom off into the trash and returned to his bed, you’re already asleep, chest rising softly. A post-cocaine high can do that to you. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he slides into bed with you, slipping a hand over your waist. 

With the way your body fits right into his, one could say you were made for each other. In Mark’s mind, maybe you were. 

—3 WEEKS, 6 DAYS CLEAN

His hands shake as he curls the wrapping paper, giving it a soft lick to secure it. 

Tomorrow will be four weeks, a whole month since the last time he had done anything. He had passed his exams. After he had thrown the pills away, he was sure that everything would be smooth sailing. But he was wrong. 

He’s disappointed in himself, he is. He wanted to be better, but it’s harder than it seems. Lucas would be disappointed in him. You would be too.

Luckily, neither will find out. 

Right now he’s tucked in his bedroom away from Lucas with the excuse that he was napping, but he’s not. Instead, he’s wrapping a joint with the leftover weed tucked in his nightstand. 

It’s not because he wants to, or because he’s being peer pressured by anyone around him. It’s for one person only—his dad.

On this day, five years ago, Pastor Lee passed away. 

The first three years, the hardest ones, he had Lucas. The past two years, he had you.

No—the first three years weren’t hardest to face, this one is. He still has Lucas, but not really. Had he swallowed his pride, had he just told his best friend that he wasn’t okay when he had asked about his father’s death anniversary, things would have been okay. Lucas would have nodded in sympathy, then dropped everything he had to be there for Mark. They’d chill and drink a couple beers—no, not drink, not anymore—but maybe watch a movie and play some games until the day had passed. That would have been bearable. 

But that hadn’t happened.

When Lucas had asked Mark how he felt about the day, Mark had lied and blubbered out a, “Oh, was that today? I totally forgot.” Why had he done that? He doesn’t know. 

Because he had had too much pride to admit to his friend that he was struggling… Now he’s here, trying to take care of his pain in the only way he has left. 

He lights it, fingers still shaking, and his body relaxes into the mattress as he finally gets a taste of the clouded, sinful smoke once more. The only downfall to this is that he knows, oh he knows well, just how much pain that it causes for him and those around him. 

—THE FIRST BURN.

Over the years, Mark has grown accustomed to the warmth.

It’s what you do to him, what he associates you with. Your first kiss, despite the cold winter air, warmed his soul from the inside. Whenever he looks at you… there’s a feeling of espousement that explodes within his chest. Yes, he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it often. He doesn’t need to. You know. You’ve opened his eyes to the beauty of love, the exhilaration of showing yourself to someone and being fully accepted. In his life once frozen over with the loss of his father and the death of his innocence, you showed him warmth. 

When he wakes, you’re burning up. 

More than you should, even with the two of you naked beneath his blankets. You’re sweating, he realizes as he slides his hand, which he had slung around your waist as the two of you drifted into dreamland, over your skin. 

You must be hot underneath the blanket, so he starts to slide it off the blanket from your figures. Then he hears it: you cough, the choked sound coming out scratched and labored. Though you’re turned away from him, he can hear the struggle in it. It’s as if… there’s something blocking your throat. 

His eyes immediately widen, adrenaline spiking as he sits up, grabs your shoulders, and turns you around. No, no, it can’t be. Where you had been laying, facing the wall, there’s remnants of your vomit, though some had gotten lodged in your throat. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. His fingers grab your wrist. You’re still breathing. You’ve still got a pulse, but it’s fast, too fast. So fast, he can barely count it. “Shit,” he curses. You’re overdosing. You’ve overdosed. Fuck. 

It’s the cocaine. 

“Y/N,” he calls, voice already loud enough to make the house burst into flames with the amount of desperation he puts into it. Shaking your shoulders, he tries again. “Y/N, baby, fuck—wake up!” When you don’t come to, he turns his head over his shoulder, screaming, “Lucas!” 

It’s only the early morning, will he be awake? “Lucas!”

“Mark…?” Your voice draws him out from his panic, and he turns to you with wide eyes. Your eyes, pupils dilated and shaky, fly all over the room. “W-What’s—” You don’t finish, because immediately you’re flinging yourself over the side of his bed and throwing up the remainder of what’s in your throat out on his bedroom floor. 

The door slams open. Lucas’ worried face appears. Mark is trembling, breath shaking, and you’re still vomiting over the carpet. At the moment, Mark doesn’t care that the both of you are naked in his bed. “What the hell happened?”

Mark feels himself start to slip away, only a moment from hyperventilating, but he speaks. “Hospital… cocaine—overdose, I—” 

“I’ll go start the car.” Lucas is immediately out the door, loud steps running down the hallway to grab his keys. At least somebody is in a stable state of mind. Mark starts to move, standing to dress the two of you, but you grab his arm as he steps out, perhaps using the last of your energy. Your eyes are wild, your mouth parted as you heave heavy, labored breaths. 

“I… I can’t breathe—Mark, I can’t,” you start between hurried breaths, but don’t finish. Immediately you go slack, falling back in his bed with closed eyes rolled into the back of your head. 

“Fuck,” he curses, immediately throwing on his jeans and sliding your dress over your sweltering body. Though he’s stumbling and racing to gather things, his phone, his wallet, and your’s, he picks you up into his arms bridal style, racing out of his bedroom into the living room. 

Flying out the front door, the cold morning air greets him in an unpleasant fashion, only making your perspiring body seem even warmer, reminding him of his faults. Lucas is already sitting in the front seat, ready to go, but Mark throws the two of you in the backseat. At this point you’re completely gone to the world, head thrown back against the cushion as he struggles to put on your seatbelt. It seems like an arbitrary precaution in this case. 

As Lucas starts to drive, moving as fast as he can possibly go, Mark clutches your hand. “Baby,” he finally breaths out as reality begins to set in. This is his fault, he did this to you. He doesn’t deserve to hold your hand, so instead he lets go, placing it in your lap before leaning forward to place his head in his hands.

“Oh my fucking god,” he finally lets out, exasperated.

—1 WEEK, 2 DAYS CLEAN

“My name is Hyunjoon, and I am addicted to alcohol. It has been… six weeks since my last drink.”

Mark bounces his leg erratically, glancing around the room. There’s some people he knows, recalling their faces on campus or around town, but some people he's never seen in his life. He’s supposed to reveal himself to these people? He doesn’t belong here.

Or maybe he does. After his last breakdown, it had taken him three days to fess up to Lucas. His friend, though disappointed, was more than understanding. “It’s a long road,” he had told Mark at the time. He said that he knew of an addiction support group in town, and encouraged Mark to attend. He’s right; Mark knows he can’t do this alone.

“Glad to see you’ve gone another week, Hyunjoon. Happy to see you back.”

He’s next, so he stands. “Um,” he starts, rubbing his nape and feeling awfully out of place. “I’m Mark, and I’m addicted to…” he sighs. “A lot of things.” 

The kind looking leader of the meeting offers him a smile. “You can share if you’d like.”

He takes a deep breath. There’s so many people, so many eyes. “Mostly weed. I drink a lot, or I used to. I… I was trying to stop everything then I had a—” How to describe it? “Relapse, last week. I don’t think I can do this alone.”

“We commend you for your courage, Mark.” There’s a soft round of applause in the circle. The smiling leader then continues, “We ask everyone who is new to this group, ‘why.’ Why do you want to stop your addiction? Why do you seek help? Besides the obvious reasons that it’s bad for you.”

This question doesn’t take long for him to answer. “I hurt someone. Someone that I really loved, and honestly… I hate myself for it. So I have to stop.”

There seems to be a couple of nods around the circle as Mark sits back down. He releases a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. This will work. Things will be okay. He will get better. He will get you back.

“Thank you for that, Mark. Welcome.”

—THE FIRST REGRET.

Mark finds himself in the same position he had been in earlier in the car, except this time he’s sitting on the floor right outside your room on the hospital floor, hiding his head in his hands. What is wrong with him?

What had he done to you? What had he allowed you to do to yourself?

God, he’s fucked up. 

Lucas is inside with you. He had wanted to be there when you woke up, but he couldn’t. He could barely look at his face in the hospital bathroom mirrors; how was he supposed to face you, IVs hooked up to your arms as a result of the drugs that he gave you? It was supposed to be fine, it was just a little bit! It was supposed to help the experience you two were having. But instead, it almost ended your life. 

He looks back now. Just two years ago, when you had first met, you didn’t even drink. You’d never been kissed, never been touched. Now he’s… done this to you. He’s despicable. You don’t deserve him. You deserve better. 

The door opens, and Mark finally pulls his head up to see Lucas step out with a somber expression. It’s a stark juxtaposition that saddens him, for Lucas is so often the light hearted joking one of the two. “She wants to see you.”

Mark parts his lips, shaky breath exhaling. “I can’t.”

Lucas takes a seat next to him on the floor, sighing. He probably looks crazy, shirtless and puffy eyed on the floor, but his best friend moves next to him anyways. “I know. She’s not angry, you know.”

“That’s the worst part,” mumbles Mark, staring out at the bleak white walls of the hospital in front of them. He doesn’t say much, but Lucas understands him it seems. 

“Something’s gotta change, Mark. Something’s gotta give.”

He knows, with a soft nod of his head. Of course, he knows what Lucas means, but what it means to him is different. He has to give something up, and it’s going to be you. Not because he can live without you or because he doesn’t love you, but because it needs to be you. You can’t be around him any longer. You’ll only continue to be hurt.

When this thought finally occurs, and he accepts it, it becomes a little easier to face you. 

He rises to his feet. “I’ll… I’ll see you later,” he finally says, twisting the doorknob to your room open.

—1 MONTH, 4 DAYS CLEAN

He doesn’t know why you asked to see him for lunch, but he does know that you look good. You look healthy, you look better than you did that day when he slipped into your hospital room and saw you there, laying lifeless and gray. But that day, you still smiled when you saw him. 

You look rather happy, like you’re doing okay without him, though he hopes that’s not that case—no, that’s not a good thing to hope for. He hopes that you’re doing okay, but that you’ll be even happier when you’re together again. Again, you smile at him over your food. Even after all this time, you still look at him like he’s the center of your universe. 

Though you had made small talk about your lives, what you were both doing, how your mom is, how Lucas is, and other unimportant things, it’s at the end of the meal when your voice finally sobers, though you keep a smile on your lips. 

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you out here.”

“I…” Mark starts, blinking, before nodding. “Yeah.”

You laugh, causing the slightest smile to break out across his lips. It’s still the same laugh you had, that fated night when you met. “I just wanted to see you again. And talk. We haven’t talked in a while.”

Mark’s smile turns into a bittersweet simper. “I thought that was because you didn’t want to talk.” Though you had spoken to him on that phone that one day, he had chalked that up to you being polite when he suddenly called. 

“Well, at first, yeah, but you know it’s been almost a year since we broke up and… I had some things I wanted to tell you.” Him too, but he’s not entirely sure he’s at his best just yet. Nevertheless, he smiles and nods. 

“I’m listening. You know I always am.”

You take a moment or two to simply stare at him with thoughtful eyes as you think over your words. All the while, your sweet smile never leaves your roseate tiers. Finally, hands folded over your lap, you start.

“Thank you.”

Mark blinks, but you continue. “I know that we didn’t end off on the best terms but I wanted to make sure you knew that I was thankful for you. For having you. You’ve done a lot for me. You’ve taught me a lot, and I can’t thank you more for everything you’ve done.”

You blink repeatedly, eyes fluttering before you continue, which leads Mark to think that these words might be just as emotional for you as they are for him. “Thank you for teaching me love. Because of you, I’ve grown a lot and become a better version of myself. A stronger one. I’m really thankful that you were my first everything: my first real date—” His mind flies back to that night. That movie really was a horrible movie.

“My first kiss.” Does it feel right, now? Yes. Can I kiss you? Yes.

“My first time.” It was awkward, but it felt, as it always did, right. 

“Thank you, for being the first guy I loved. I really… really loved you, Mark. But most of all,” you say, gazing at his wordless figure with those eyes of yours. They’re not as innocent and naive as they used to be. They’re matured now, hardened, but still, the sparkle is there. The same sparkle that had attracted him that night, three years ago, with that damned white dress.

“I forgive you.” Mark releases a shaky breath. “For everything. I don’t want you to blame yourself anymore. It’s not your fault, really. I’m better now, I’m healthy. Please, don’t hurt yourself anymore because of me.”

“Y/N, I—”

“I met you in my first year here. We’re going to be seniors, Mark. We’re going to graduate and be thrown into the real world, where there’s real consequences. I don’t want the consequences of what happened to weigh you down. I just want to move on, and you deserve to move on too.” From the glint in your eye, it’s clear how long you’ve pondered over these words. 

He wants to reach out to you, to grasp you and bring you back to him. Because he’s trying to let go of the past so that he can focus on loving you fully as you are. 

Sure, you can forgive him, but he needs to forgive himself first. He’s not quite fully well yet. He has to be patient.

A soft exhale leaves his lips. “Thank you. For forgiving me.”

Yet another sweet, beautiful smile spreads across your lips. It’s the smile that haunts Mark’s dreams. “You’re welcome. And thank you again for everything.” As the waitress appears, returning Mark’s credit card that he had graciously used to pay for the meal, you stand with your bag.

No, you can’t be leaving just yet. “Stay in touch, okay, Mark?”

But he has to let you leave. The day will come when it’s right. “Yeah,” he manages, swallowing the lump in his throat. Yet as he watches you walk away, he can feel that that string of fate he had always believed tied the two of you together slowly wearing, twisting, breaking.

—THE FINAL TEAR.

“What do you mean we should break up?” 

Your voice is scandalized, angry. Mark simply keeps his gaze to the living room floor, eyebrows furrowed in complete unhappiness. He never wanted it to end like this, but he’s run horrible with thoughts that the things he did brought pain to you. It’s time to end it. Not because he wants to, but because he should. 

“We just should,” he responds bleakly. “After what happened, I think it’s clear that we’re not good for each other.” 

It’s been a month now since you’ve been discharged from the hospital. After you had convinced your doctor that you weren’t addicted to drugs and in need of rehab, you had gone home. Mark had luckily had enough saved to pay off your hospital bills; neither of you wanted your parents knowing. “Mark, it’s okay. I told you it’s okay!”

“No, it’s not. It’s not just because of the overdose. Things have been like this for a while now.”

You attempt to grab his hand. If he allows himself to bask in just one moment of your kindness, he’ll give in. You beg, “Mark, please, hang on for me, for us. I promise things will get better, things can change.”

He snaps, pulling his hand from your’s. Your eyes widen up at him, shocked and appalled at his sudden movement. “No! Can’t you see? You didn’t even take that much. I took more coke in my first snort than you took in that entire line. The overdose shouldn’t have even happened, but look, it did. This is wrong.”

“What, the drugs? I’ve been telling you that. Please, we can get better. We can find help.” The fact that you’re still pleading him with kind, gentle eyes, makes this all worse. It only further proves that you’re good. He’s not.

“No, not the drugs. Us.”

“Us?”

He runs a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head in frustration. “We’re not right for each other. This isn’t working.”

“What do you mean? Tell me why.”

“We’re just not… destined to be together. What happened, it was God’s way of telling us that this is not right. We’re not right for each other,” he explains, voice exasperated as he tries his best to explain the mess of his thoughts. 

This seems to take you aback, your voice finally rising. “Oh, so now you care what God thinks?”

No, not really. But sometimes he has to listen. He doesn’t respond, so you continue. “I’ve been more than willing to make this work for two years, Mark. You think any of this was easy for me? My first boyfriend and he’s a freaking drug dealer for God’s sake. I tried to take it all because I loved you! I took care of you when you were hungover, I waited around shady areas at night so that you could drop off deals, I stuck with you for everything. Fuck,” you shout, causing Mark to tense. You rarely curse, and based on your usage of it now, he knows just how upset you are. “I even overdosed and I’m still here. Yet it’s always you pushing me away, making it difficult. Why are you running away from us?”

He’s not running away. “I’m not running away,” he declares. “I’m letting you run away.”

“And what makes you think I need to run away from you?”

“Because! You heard yourself, don’t deserve those things. You should have someone to take care of you when you’re sick, not always be the one fixing me when I’m sick. You should have someone to walk with you through the shady areas. That’s not me. I’m not… right for you.” He finally spits it out, eyebrows tightened together as he releases the thoughts that have been on his mind for a month now. 

You’re silent for a moment, taking in his words with your arms crossed over your chest. When you speak, your voice has returned to its normal speaking volume. “You told me that you believed in fate, that you believed in us. Is this fate? Fate that we met, and fell in love, and broke up? Is it fate that you hurt me over and over again and I came back, every single time? Because if that’s fate…” A single tear falls from your eyes, though you wipe it away so it’s as if it never even existed. It seems even you have some pride now, not to cry in front of him. “It seems like your idea of fate is pretty messed up.”

Mark takes a large breath, looking away to gather his thoughts before looking back to you. You’ve both come so far since that night, the image of her clouded by the purple lights, the energy of the party. Now, all that glamour is stripped away. It’s just you and him, as you are. “You had to meet someone like me, so you can know what you deserve.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to call it quits, and blame it on destiny?” Your tone is mocking, questioning his reasons and probably his sanity. 

“I’m not calling it quits,” he immediately retorts, responding sharp and quick. “I’m letting you go.”

“No,” you say as you approach him. “You’re giving up. On us, on everything we worked hard to build. Our trust, our relationship, everything.” Your finger digs into his chest, pointing an accusing blame. “I broke up with you,” you emphasize. “Not the other way around. I broke up with you because you tugged me around, you pushed me away, and you never listened to me. I got tired of it, and broke up with you.” 

With that, you pull away from him, though when he finally comes to realize the weight of the conversation you just had, he sees you grabbing your bag and slipping your white ballet flats with purple bows on. “Y/N.”

He wants to say he’s sorry, because it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He hadn’t planned for the conversation to go up in flames. 

Whenever you walked out during arguments, there was always a promise to call later, to talk when your minds were stable. But now, as you turn over your shoulder, walking out of his apartment and life, you muster a goodbye.

“Don’t call me.”

—3 MONTHS CLEAN.

“Senior year!” Lucas yells as he throws open the front door with the power of the Hulk, startling Mark who’s still unpacking some boxes of cookware in the kitchen. “It’s our time, time to shine!”

A soft laugh leaves Mark as he places some cups in the cupboard. He and Lucas had left their apartment for two months for the summer to return to their homes, but here they are, back and ready to take on their final year. They had finished middle school and high school together, and now they’ll graduate college together. It makes Mark smile. 

As he leaves the kitchen to greet his best friend in the living room, he sees that the guy has already brought in a number of his boxes. “Hey, man,” calls Mark, who leads Lucas in for a dap. 

“Hey yourself, you barely talked to me this summer,” Lucas chastises playfully. “Ignoring me, I see.”

Mark laughs, shaking his head. “Not ignoring, just… working on myself.” 

“Good,” responds Lucas, turning to bring in the rest of his boxes. Yes, Mark had spent the entire summer dedicating himself to the lost cause that was himself. He started working out again, got a job, and even worked on rebuilding his relationship with his mother. Things were looking up for him.

He feels ready. Lucas’ voice interrupts his thoughts. “Hey, wanna take a break and get some food?”

His question meets a raised eyebrow from Mark. “You just got here, like, two minutes ago.”

“And?”

A laugh leaves Mark’s lips, and he shakes his head. “Nothing. But, uh, I can’t. I was going to go… see Y/N.”

“Oh?” asks Lucas, leaning down to tear the tape on one of the dark cardboard boxes filled to the brim, probably with Lucas’ pillows; the man was like a giant baby, sleeping with ten pillows. “You called her and asked to meet up?”

“No,” responds Mark, who follows these words with a deep breath. “I’m going to go see her.” 

Lucas stands straight once more, his playful expression from earlier now serious. He shoots Mark a soft smile, patting him on the shoulder. “Nice. I’m happy for you. Are you leaving now?”

“Uh, yeah, I was planning to go after I put all the kitchen stuff away.”

Lucas’ grin grows even wider, stretching from ear to ear as he gives Mark a little pat on the bum, which is supposed to be encouraging. “Well, then go get her, tiger! Good luck, man,” he yells supportively as he pushes Mark out the door. 

As he shuts the door, Mark blinks. “Dude! I don’t even have shoes on! Or my car keys,” he laughs, banging on the door.

Some time later, Mark finds himself hesitating as he parks his car a block down the street from your sharehouse, the same place he had kissed you, that many years ago. He doesn’t even know if you still live here. You had been broken up since the beginning of your junior year, who knows if you had decided to move out?

He contemplates this as he walks down the sidewalk to your place, hands in his pockets and gaze on the floor. Surely, if you’re not there, one of the girls will point him in your direction? Hopefully.

Oh, but you are there. As your home comes into view, he sees you. You’re there on the front porch, dressed in a simple white skirt and the same white ballet flats with purple bows that you can never seem to grow out of. 

But you’re not alone. 

There’s a man with you, though his back is turned to Mark’s view. He blinks. His steps stop completely. Surely it could be anyone right? A neighbor? A classmate? 

But that’s impossible. Not because class doesn’t start for three days or because you and him met the neighbors on all sides of your house, but because you lean up on your toes, the way you always did with Mark himself, and kiss the stranger’s cheek. 

It would have been easy to lie to himself, but then it’s much too clear. He realizes it then as he stares, only a few steps away from the path that would have led to your steps, the steps he took when walking you back on your first date, intertwined hands swinging between the two of you. 

He’s too late. Maybe much too late. 

He was a fool all this time. Thinking that he could be better for you, that he could defy fate with his free will and urge the universe into letting you be together. Lucas was wrong; life isn’t free will, neither is love. 

This is his fate, there’s no use denying it. 

He stands staring for a few moments, simply gazing in complete desolation at the sight before him. This is it, this is the end. He’s ready to submit to his poor fate, the internalized idea he’s housed that he’d never be able to find a love like yours ever again, but then you see him, probably because he stands out like a stain of black paint on the green canvas of your lawn. 

He doesn’t hear you, but your lips form his name, “Mark?” and your eyes blink in confusion.

He doesn’t wait too long anyways, for he’s already turned on his heels back to his car. Fuck fate and its tendencies, giving hope where there will only be heartbreak. 

—SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE FIRST TEAR AND THE FIRST CRASH.

The smell of you invades his senses, but he doesn’t care. It’s one of the first nights in a long time where you’ve agreed to go to a party with him. Though other girls beg for his attention, he’s still only got his eyes on you. Your outfit tonight is much too nostalgic.

“You know,” he whispers in your ear, dancing against your backside with a hand on your waist. “You look best in white.” 

“I know,” you respond, chuckling whilst dancing back against him. He had taught you how to dance a while ago, and you just keep getting better and better. 

“You wore this dress on purpose, didn’t you, you little minx,” he teases, though a playful laugh leaves his throat. His words draw a knowing giggle from you, and Mark feels as though he could get drunk on the sound alone. 

“Maybe,” you respond back, turning and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. This is when Mark gets a good look at you. 

It’s so easy to remember the way you first appeared to him, standing awkwardly in a corner of a party just like this. This time the lights decorating the aura of this party are not purple, but his heart is all the same. You’re wearing the same outfit now, definitely at this point to tantalize him and tease him; you loved to make fun of him after he told you that he had fallen for you because of that dress alone. 

But you’re different now.

You’re brighter, taller, more mature. Now you are not just your person carrying your own thoughts, but his as well. You know him, know his thoughts and his feelings, know his worries without asking. Your smile is bigger, it reaches your eyes more now than it did that first night, a forced simper at the strange guy coming to flirt with you. You dance with more confidence, you carry with yourself a quiet strength despite your hesitant nature. 

He loves you. God, he loves you. He tells you just as much.

With a hand over your hip, he pulls you close. You think he’s going to press another tipsy kiss to your lips, but he doesn’t. Instead he brushes his lips to your ear and he whispers, so softly you would have missed it if you hadn’t been purposely filtering the party’s music to focus on his voice: “I love you.”

You blink, and stop your dancing. It’s the first time he’s ever said this to you. 

“Mark…” you start, lips parting in surprise, but he’s pulled away to smile sweetly at you. It’s not flirtatious, the kind of smile he gives you before attempting to pull you in the bathroom for a quick one. Nor is it the knowing grin he shoots before guiltily asking you to go refill his drink. It’s a small one that barely touches the tips of his lips, and the look alone makes your heart melt in espousement. “I… I love you too.”

You had told him, of course, the other month when you had tore him apart in his bedroom after finding him hungover. But this time it’s real, and in the future you both will choose to remember this as the first time. 

Some might think that it’s unorthodox to confess such strong feelings such as love in the middle of a party, sweltering with the heat of dancing bodies and the musky smoke in the air. But for the two of you, it doesn’t matter. It’s just you two in here; you only see each other.

—3 MONTHS CLEAN, ONE HOUR LATER.

Mark’s currently in his room, completely bare except for his bed and desk, sulking away. When he had returned home with a bitter lilt in his steps, Lucas didn’t need any explanation, stepping out to “meet Yuqi.” 

Of course, it had been Lucas who had put him in this place of thinking he could get you back but in the end, it was only himself that he had to blame. He never had the chance, it was his fault for thinking he ever did.

He’s learned his lesson. 

It’s only an hour later when Lucas knocks on the door again. Fuck, Mark thinks inwardly while rolling his eyes. It’s only the first day back, has this giant managed to lose his keys, again? He makes his way out to the door, already preparing to give Lucas hell for being so irresponsible, but Lucas never makes his appearance at the door.

“Y/N.”

“Mark, I’m sorry, but—”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown up at your place uninvited.” He’s quick to interrupt you, shaking his head. It’s easy to pretend to be strong; he just needs to maintain a strong front until he shuts the door again. 

“It’s not that, I—”

“I won’t do it again, I promise. I know you said you wanted to move on and I shouldn’t be surprised, it just hurts to see it, and so, I’ll—”

“Mark—”

“I hope that you’re very happy, and that he can make you happier than I di—”

“That’s my brother, you daft idiot!” You finally cut him off, voice rising to a volume louder than his. He had flinched at your sudden peak in volume. You give him a pointed look, and when he doesn’t dare speak again, you continue. “That’s my brother, Mark. He helps me move in every year, you know that!”

That’s true, he does know that. And he’s met your brother many, many times. Shit, he realizes.

“... Oh.”

“Mark Lee, you think I could move on from you that quickly? It’s been like, two months!” You scold him, as if the idea is preposterous. 

“Well,” he reasons. “Technically we broke up a year ago.”

You seem to have the energy to argue back. “Okay, but I only really let you go when school ended this year.” 

The two of you stare at each other for a long moment following your words, before you both start to laugh. You crack first, trying to remain serious when all you want to do is envelope him in a hug, for how could you ever love anyone else? You can’t even imagine trying to date anyone right now. He follows right after, shoulders relaxing as you start to chuckle. 

“We look insane right now, you know,” he says, sighing as his chortle comes to an end.

“Yeah, and I’m insane because I drove like a madwoman chasing after my ex because he saw me with my brother,” you say with a pointed tone, to which Mark sighs.

“Okay, in my defense, I saw him from behind, and you are awfully touchy with your brother!” He starts, when you begin to laugh again, pure amusement breaking out across your visage. Wow, just five minutes ago he had been regretting all his life decisions, yet here he was with you again, making conversations like you had years ago in your relationship. 

When the laughter dies down, the two of you are left staring at each other, and reality sets in. Yeah, he had run away when he saw you with your brother of all people, and you had chased after him, your ex. Where does that place you?

Mark speaks first, breaking the short silence. “I’m sober now, you know. I haven’t done anything, anything at all, in three months now.”

Surprise seems to claim your face at the revelation, and he’s not sure if he should feel proud that he managed to shock you with his success or saddened that it seems to be that much of a surprise. “Oh?” Your surprised expression is replaced with a smile. “I’m proud.”

He nods, unsure what to say next, but luckily you add on, “What made you decide to stop?” You’re undoubtedly reminiscing on all the times you had begged him to give it up, to which he would stubbornly resist. 

“You.”

Your features contort into an incredulous expression. “Me.”

“Really,” Mark urges. “I…” he pauses, preparing himself for the words about to leave him. He had long pondered over this moment, wondering if it would truly happen. “I lost you, and I know that I said it was because we weren’t meant to be together but somewhere along the line I realized, I can live without weed, and parties, and alcohol but I can’t live without you.”

“Mark…” You start, lips parted as you grow silent.

“No, please, let me finish, I don’t want to take all the credit because it was Lucas who had to come and knock some sense into me and make me see: sure, fate can be real and that soulmate shit might be real too because I believe you’re mine, but I know that everything is a choice, including love.” His mention of Lucas has you smiling, and he has no doubt Lucas has talked to you recently, attempting to be the middleman once more. “I love you, there’s no doubt about that, I love you more than I love partying, my friends, or anything. And if I love you that much, there’s nothing that can keep me from you.”

He grasps at your hands, and thankfully, you don’t pull away. “Not God, not fate, not anybody. Only me. I was the only thing keeping us apart. I want to be with you, I want to make things better, and I promise… I promise I’ll do everything in my power to be the best for you.” Mark takes a deep breath, taking a moment to glance down at his hands holding yours before looking back to your eyes. “I can’t promise that I won’t have relapses. But I promise that as long as you’re there for me, I will be there for you. I’ll walk you through the shady areas, I won’t run away.”

“Mark—”

“I don’t know if my words will be enough for you to take me back but I swear to you on my entire being that I will be here—”

“Geez, Mark does sobriety make you extremely prone to interrupting, or what?” You butt in, but you laugh, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. Whether it’s you natural shine or tears building in your eyes, neither of you know. “Don’t even go there, or explain anymore. Of course I’ll take you back, you idiot. You think I would chase after you like that if I didn’t think about running back to you every day?”

This causes him to laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t. I wasn’t ready. I was waiting until I was good enough to run to you.”

“You ran away earlier,” you point out teasingly, and he rolls his eyes, pulling you close over the threshold of his apartment. 

“That was the last time.”

Your hands find his chest, resting upon the expanse of it as you look up at him with a cheeky smile. “Better be, mister.”

“Oh,” he muses, as you wrap your fingers around the fabric of his shirt and all feels right again. “You’re bold.”

“A year apart does that to you,” you smile, still a hint of shyness on your lips as you finally tug him in, kissing him. You melt into him and his hands immediately find themselves on your hips, just where they belong. 

Oh yes, there it is again, that feeling of euphoria. You’re the only drug, the only high he needs. 

[sarcasmandships]

honey and glass ~ spencer reid

i am in love with spencer reid but he only has eyes for jennifer jareau

spencer reid x reader angst + hurt/comfort (sorta, it’s all in first person but with no names/no specific descrptions)

song fic inspired by ‘honey and glass’ by peyton cardoza

word count: 4.8k

disclaimer: i do not ship jeid or think they had any chemistry but it’s a good opportunity for angst x

you know those kinds of girls who look like they're made of honey and glass like sticky sweet ash

it’s a summers night in california and i’m on the beach at sunset.

the sand is rough under my toes and a warm, gentle breeze blows a strand of my hair across my face; he lifts his hand to brush it away. tucking it behind my ear he stares down at me and the sun hits his face at a perfect angle, illuminating his hazel eyes like pools of honey. he leans in and i-

“ow!” i yelp, as morgan launches the volleyball at my head, “what was that for?”  

“come and play,” he laughs, waving me over to where he stands with emily and hotch.

i shake my head, “no, i don’t feel like it,” i mumble, massaging my left temple where the ball bounced off my skull.

morgan rolls his eyes and jogs past where i’m sitting to collect the ball, “what’s up with you then?” he teases.

i shrug, “nothing. I’m just tired,” i say feigning an unconvincing yawn, “ask one of them to play.”  

i motion with my head towards spencer and jj, they’re down by the edge of the waves and she throws her head back and laughs at something he says. her sheets of blonde hair ripple through the wind and he looks at her in pure awe and amazement as she giggles at something he said.

“nah, don’t wanna interrupt the kid when he’s trying to make a move,” morgan shrugs, “come play with us, we need an extra person.”

an extra person.

right.

because what else am i but another body to fill the space?

“i don’t want to,” i say, forcing myself to tear my eyes away from jj and spencer as i stand up, “hotch said the jet is leaving first thing tomorrow, i’m gonna head back to the hotel and get some sleep.”

morgan says something, but i don’t register it as i allow myself one last glance at spencer and jj. she is trying to convince him to paddle in the waves with her, he shakes his head but when she takes his hand in hers i can tell he’s melting inside as he follows her into the water.

and i just know that he’d follow her so far out to sea that his head was underwater as long as she kept their hands intertwined.

i turn away from morgan so he doesn’t see the tears burning in my eyes.

and you can't get the taste off your tongue burnt sugar and a little bit of rum

we’re in a dimly lit bar somewhere.

hotch left hours ago, he wanted to take advantage of one of the rare nights he would be there to read jack a bedtime story.

rossi is at a table in the corner, sitting with a woman who has not-so-subtly draped her leg over him.

derek is out of my line of sight and i’m thankful for that.

emily, garcia, and jj are dancing.

i sit at the table with spencer, he’s drunk.

more tipsy than drunk i think, but he so rarely drinks anything that the sight of him swaying along to the music was an anomaly. i can’t ignore the fact that his eyes are firmly fixed on jj as she dances, and i grip my wine glass so tightly i half expect it to shatter in my hand.

he leans across to me and my heart skips a beat as i inhale the alcohol on his breath, “i’m in love with her, y’know,” he slurs.

“i know, spencer,” i smile sadly and down the rest of my wine.

he doesn’t even notice when i grab my coat from behind him and shuffle towards the door.

and she dances in the rain with her clothes on drenched to the bone never knows when she's all gone, she's the life of the party

spencer and i are watching the big bang theory.

neither of us particularly like it, but there aren’t many channels on our hotel room tv and spencer enjoys the physics references at least. i watch his face light up as a character mentions something about quantum theory that i cant understand, and spencer launches into a rant about the universe and the stars.

i don’t have the knowledge to keep up with him or the heart to tell him to stop so i sit and listen, admiring the way his eyes sparkle and his hands gesticulate when no one interrupts him with a deprecating comment.

we sit there like that for the rest of the night, in our respective twin beds with him telling me the secrets of the universe and me wondering how on earth i will ever get over him.

and deep down I know that nobody flinches when she takes off her clothes

“anything you like?” emily asks me through the dressing room curtain.

“i’m not sure…” i mumble in response, biting down on my lip as i stare at myself in the mirror, “i-i don’t think this is my colour.”

the dress looked so beautiful on the hanger, but now that it’s on my body the fabric bunches up in all the wrong places and i can’t recall a time that i’ve looked worse.

the lights are just washing you out, i tell myself.

you’re having a bad hair day, it would look better with your hair down, i tell myself.

you just need some lipstick, i tell myself.

but when jj announces she has found the perfect dress and i stick my head out of the curtain to see her, i am slapped in the face with the realisation that it isn’t the lighting or my lack of makeup it’s just me.

because jj looks beautiful as always, her dress hugs her waist and the skirt fans out around her as emily demands she gives us a spin. she isn’t wearing makeup, her hair is in a ponytail too, the lights don’t wash her out because she is radiant and flawless, and the lights aren’t the problem.

i am.

i cry in my car as i drive home from the mall, and when i get home i tear everything out of my fridge and fling it into the trashcan. i vow to go to the store and stock up on salad and chicken.

i go to the store but i don’t buy salad.

and I wonder what it's like to be one of those girls to sit in the sun and look at the world and never think, "wow, am i enough?" ‘cause life is easy when you know that you're the main character

i’m in hotch’s office as he grills me about a stupid mistake i made in the field. i can hardly focus on his words as i shrink back in the chair, counting all the reasons that i don’t deserve to be in this job.

i’m not as smart or fast or strong as the others. i don’t have an eidetic memory or hacker skills and i can’t even maintain myself as a solid average agent because i keep fucking up.

“i’m not going to write you up,” he says, and my heart soars a little in my chest, “but i need you to understand that if you do something like that again i won’t have any choice, you were lucky no one got hurt today.”

i nod silently and blink back the tears that threaten to spill over.

“go home, get some rest,” he says and i don’t hang around for a second longer, darting out of his office i crash headfirst into a tall frame.

“wow, slow down,” he chuckles, resting a hand on my shoulder to steady me.

“spencer,” i gasp, looking up at his sympathetic smile, “what are you still doing here? we landed hours ago….”

he shrugs, “i waited for you.”

my heart skips a beat.

“you didn’t have to do that.”

he shakes his head, “you’re my best friend, i wanted to. plus i thought you might need someone after being in there with hotch.”

i swallow and offer him a slightly forced smile.

best friend.

“thanks, spence, that means a lot.”

he looks at me quizzically.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing, just only jj calls me spence…anyways” he holds out his arm for me, “shall we go?”

i have to restrain myself from seizing his arm, and settle for tentatively wrapping my own around it, “thanks spencer…you’re such a good friend.”

he smiles down at me and its almost enough to melt away the icy feeling in my heart as i call him a friend. the coldness in my chest in my chest is a feeling i’ve grown accustomed to but when i’m with him everything is warm and bright again.

he feels like yellow.

and i feel like maybe i am enough.

and I'm sitting here thinking this is not fair

i feel like blue.

i’m alone in my apartment flicking through tv channels, trying to find something that isn’t a medical or crime drama. because after my day at work i can’t look at any more blood or dead bodies, even if its as fake as the pep in my voice when jj calls to ask if i’m okay.

“hotch grilled you pretty bad, huh? you sure you’re okay?”

“yeah, spence – spencer – waited for me and we went to get milkshakes after.”

“aww that’s so nice, you know i think he has a soft spot for you,” she teases.

something acidic bubbles in my throat, but i can’t tell her that i know she’s wrong because he spent half the night telling me how much he loves her. i have to gather the strength to respond without the venom in my heart poisoning my voice.

“oh, i don’t think so,” i laugh, “anyways, i should go – my movie is about to start.”

jj tells me to have a good night before she hangs up, and i switch off the tv. at this time there’s noting but romcoms and i don’t want to sit through hours of pining when its on replay every day at the office.

i watch my own reflection in the blank tv screen as sobs wrack my body.

but her smile makes it hard to be mad it's not her fault that I'm so fucking sad

jj holds me in her arms as i cry into her chest, “it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay,” she coos, rubbing soft circles on my back.

i sniffle against her and i just know that my eyes are puffy and red but i can’t switch off the floods of tears that fall from them.

“do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” she asks.

i shake my head against her because how could i tell her?

how could I tell her that the man i love is in love with her?

and that i want to resent her for it but i can’t because she’s such a good fucking friend that she’s sitting here with me, unknowingly wiping the tears that i can’t stop shedding because i can’t be her.

she gives me one of those heart warming smiles that could bring peace to a dying man, and in that moment i am reminded again of why he loves her. there are worse people to love, i suppose. if spencer is going to cut out his heart and give it to someone it might as well be someone like her.

but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

and i hate myself for the part of me that hates her. she’s done nothing wrong. it’s not her fault that that spencer loves her, and its not her fault that she doesn’t realise.

so I'll sit here and look at these girls in the sun dancing in the rain and just having their fun

i hate alaska.

my teeth chatter as we trudge through the snow filled field, and i pull the cuffs of my coat over my glove cladded hands. i hate the cold. i hate alaska. i hate the serial killer who dragged us all out here. i hate the impending snowstorm that was keeping the jet grounded for another night.

“should we even be out here?” i groan, “i mean if it’s not safe for the plane, then surely its not safe for us.”

“we aren’t 50,000 feet up in the sky though,” morgan says and i roll my eyes at him.

“it’s cold enough to make me feel like we are,” i huff.

spencer nods sympathetically at me, “i don’t like the cold either, not much snow in vegas.”

“i think we should have two behavioural analysis units,” i begin, “one to catch serial killers in cold climates, and the other in hot ones.”

he laughs, “i’d like that, but i think it’d just be us and garcia on the hot team.”

“we’d get by.”

he’s grinning at me, his messy brown curls are squashed down under his bobble hat but a few of them still manage to peak out. he’s wearing a multicoloured striped scarf and mismatched gloves.

a snowflake lands on his eyelash and i reach out to brush it off.

“thanks.”

“anytime.”

morgan launches a snowball at us, and it hits me in the back of the head, “hey! what is it with you and throwing things?” i snap.

morgan roars with laughter.

“not funny derek!”

he resumes his snowball fight with emily and jj and i draw my arms across my chest. i watch as they prance about in the snow, falling to avoid the snowballs launched by the others and laughing when they get hit. the sun is just starting to set, and it’s rays catch jj’s hair at the perfect angle, bouncing off the golden blonde strands as she dances around morgan. her and emily have joined forces to pelt him with snowballs.

i look up at spencer to see him starting at her in awe. his nose and cheeks are flushed from the cold, and the sun reflects against his own face, illuminating his eyes. they’re beautiful. like honey and glass.

“guys! come join us!” jj calls.

i shake my head, “there’s not enough money in the world.”

she pouts at me, “spence, please,” she says sweetly and before i know it he’s by her side and scooping up snow.

i watch from the side-lines.

spencer roars with laughter when emily hits morgan square in the face with a snowball, he wraps an arm around jj as she nearly collapses from laughter, something twinges in my stomach.

but he looks so happy, and that melts my glacier heart slightly.

maybe alaska wasn’t so bad after all.

and maybe one day, i can forget the past and be one of those girls of honey and glass

“nice to meet you, agent,” agent fitz says, holding out his hand, “we’ve heard good things about you up in the new york office.”

“really?” i say, shaking his hand and i can’t fight the smile that creeps across my face.

“really. give me a call if you ever fancy a change of scenery.”

“i’ll keep that in mind, agent fitz,” i give him a nod and a smile as he walks away.

new york was cold in the winter, but it didn’t seem like the worst place in the world.

but I think that it's hard for people to see that I love all these girls, and honestly it doesn't matter what you look like or how much you weigh

i wondered once how i’d ever get over my love for spencer reid, and now as he sits and sobs on my couch i realise that i don’t want to. it hurts me to love him, and something stabs my heart every time i catch him staring at her, but he deserves someone to love him like he loves her.

“i guess i’m just starting to realise that she’ll never love me back, and i don’t know why or what’s wrong with me,” he says and looks up at me, his eyes filled with tears and his face blotchy and red.

“there’s nothing wrong with you,” i say, wrapping an arm around him and wiping his tears, “sometimes the people you love just don’t love you back, but that’s not a reflection of you or your self-worth,” i reiterate to him the mantra i say in my mirror every morning.

he whimpers and my heart breaks for him.

“it doesn’t feel that way, it feels like i’m dying inside every time she talks about him or tells me about their dates, and i try to be a good friend but-”

his voice cracks and another sob escapes his chest and i tighten my grip around him; heartbreak doesn’t seem to get easier with age, because here we are, two fbi agents in our late twenties crying over our crushes like we are in junior high.

because before i know it the tears are flowing down my face faster than his and when he breaks away from our embrace to ask me why i’m crying, i can’t tell him it’s because i am feeling everything he is.

“i just don’t like seeing you like this,” is all i can muster up.

it's just that these girls know they're okay there's a beauty in knowing your place in the world in loving yourself and knowing your worth

“hey!” spencer greets me as he steps into the elevator with me.

“hi,” i mumble back, taking another sip of coffee from my travel cup.

we’ve been called in on a case, but i’ve barely had any sleep and i’m struggling to keep my eyes open.

“you look tired, are you okay?”

you look tired.

so the bags under my eyes were obvious then.

“yeah,” i say, swallowing the lump in my throat, “just a late night, y’know.”

“oh…oh! is that your way of saying your date went well?” he says with a coy grin.

“what?”

oh! something clicks in my brain and i understand what he means.

“no! not like that no…actually it didn’t go well at all, he turned out to be a total misogynistic creep,” i say with a bitter laugh.

“oh, i’m sorry….”

i shrug and take another swig of coffee, “it’s okay, you didn’t know. to be honest i’ll probably end up calling him again anyways.”

spencer stares at me, confused, “why would you do that?”

“well, i don’t exactly have guys falling over themselves for me, do i?”

spencer frowns and i can see his brain working overtime behind his eyes, “so you’re just going to settle for less than you deserve?”

“i don’t have many other options do i?”

he reaches out an arm to place a comforting hand on my shoulder, “don’t worry, you’ll find the right guy for you soon. it’s only a matter of time, you’re worth more than a misogynistic creep,” he squeezes my shoulder and before i know it we’ve already reached our floor and he’s gone.

you’ll meet the right guy for you soon.

what if i already have?

you don't have to be perfect or never get sad that's not what it means to be honey and glass

it’s late and i sit at my desk, sorting through piles of paperwork.

my eyes blur as i enter the gruesome details of our latest case, from fatigue or tears i can’t tell. i think emily and hotch are still hanging around the office somewhere, but the others had gone to dinner as soon as we landed, promising that they would do their paperwork tomorrow.

i knew i would have no appetite sitting across a table from spencer and jj so i had sat silently in the back of the suv as hotch drove us back to the office.

a singular tear rolls down my cheek and splatters on my page, smudging the not-quite-dry-yet ink. i let out a shaky breath and wipe my eyes, i don’t know why i’m crying really.

no one had necessarily done anything wrong. only when we were in the field and the unsub had detonated the bomb, spencer chose to push jj out of the way instead of me. i was lucky that one of the s.w.a.t agents had grabbed my arm in time and pulled me back to safety.

it had been hours and my ears were still ringing from the explosion.

maybe spencer thought he was closer to jj, that he had a better chance of saving her, we are trained to make difficult choices based on survival odds, i told myself.

only spencer hadn’t been closer to jj, and she was surrounded by three s.w.a.t agents whilst i only had one next to me. but no one had really done anything wrong, no one died, no one even broke a bone. and it pains me to admit to myself but had i been in spencer’s position and had to chose between saving him or morgan, i know that would pull spencer out of the way every single time.

i jump as emily creeps up behind me, “hey, you okay?”

i don’t even try and disguise my puffy, red eyes or tear tracks as i look up at her, “no. but i think that’s okay.”

and everyone has their highs and their lows the nights you spend crying, believe me, I know

it’s roslyn’s birthday.

i don’t think anyone else in the team knows because they keep exchanging looks whenever jj snaps at one of them and i can see the annoyance in their eyes.

when jj barks at spencer and snaps her pencil within the space of five minutes i drag her into a storage closet and wrap my arms around her.

“shhh,” i say soothingly, “it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

jj shakes her head, “i don’t think so, i thought this day would get easier with time but it’s just getting worse,” she sniffles.

i stroke her hair, “i know, i know its horrible and you deserve to cry as much as you want to. but you are so strong, and i know you can get through this-”

“i’m not,” jj shakes her head, “i’m not strong or brave or anything that you all think i am, i’m not like you I-”

“like me?” i question.

“you always hold yourself together, whenever there’s a case with a kid i’m falling to pieces but you keep it together. i mean i’m the one crying in a storage closet….”

i stare at her in disbelief, because jj is the strongest woman i know and i don’t understand how she can’t see that.

“i don’t have a sister who killed herself jj,” i say slowly, “you have survived 100% of the bad things that have happened to you because you’re a fighter, that makes you strong.”

she shakes her head and clings to me, “but i’ve lost pieces of myself, i’m not the same person i could’ve been if life had been kinder to me and that makes me sad. my sister is dead and that makes me sad, everyone thinks i’m this strong and perfect person and that makes me feel guilty because i can’t be that person.”

in a turn of events, she is crying into my chest, her hair is greasy, and her mascara runs and i realise that my best friend was never truly on the pedestal i placed her on. and i realise i am part of the problem, treating jj like she is the be all and all of perfection and unattainablity when i should just be treating her like a friend.

spencer loves her and that kills me but it’s not what’s important right now. i’ve spent too long inside my own head, struggling to view her as my best friend or the other woman but now i see that she is someone that needs my help.

i know what it’s like to cry myself to sleep so i don’t want jj to go through something like that alone. so i vow there and then, to push my own feelings aside and be whatever she needs me to be.

i don't want to be these girls for beauty or fame but for the confidence they have in their own damn name

“smile!” garcia says as she appears with a camera.

emily, jj, and morgan turn to face her and pose but i duck out of the frame. garcia pouts and morgan grabs onto my forearm to pull me back into shot. i wish that i had the self-confidence to let him, to fall in next to him and make a silly pose at the camera and not worry if my hair was sitting nicely or if i was breathing in enough.

“come on! i need pictures for my scrapbook and you’ve been dodging me all night!” she whines.

i stare down at my feet, “garcia i’m not photoshoot ready like these guys,” i say, trying to make my voice light and floaty but it just sounds like im choking back tears.

“come on, just one picture,” jj says kindly, waving for me to come and stand next to her.

i shake my head again and wring my hands. the last thing i need is another photograph of jj and i to compare myself to every time i’m feeling extra low and self-destructive.

i try and remember the vow i made, to be there for my friend despite my own feelings. but she isn’t sad anymore, she’s happy and smiling and drinking wine, me squeezing in between her and emily for a stupid photograph isn’t going to make or break her.

it’s just a stupid photograph.

“no thanks,” i choke, “i’m going to get another drink,” i scurry away to the kitchen before anyone can object.

i shut the door quickly behind me and press my back up against it, taking a deep breath. i can’t quite believe i was successful in escaping garcia again.

“are you avoid garcia and her camera too?”

“spencer!” i laugh shrilly, “i didn’t even see you there.”

“yeah, i’ve been hiding in here for a half hour,” he smiles sadly, “i hate having my picture taken, especially next to morgan. he makes me look even lankier if possible.”

i frown, spencer had no reason to feel insecure.

“why don’t we get garcia to take a picture of just us two?” i suggest nervously, “you won’t have any reason to feel insecure next to me….”

he looks at me quizzically, “what do you mean?”

i wring my hands again, “just that you’ll automatically look even better if i’m next to you…cos’ i’m…well y’know,” i say awkwardly motioning to my face and body.

he cocks his head to the side, “are you trying to tell me you think you’re ugly, so i’ll look better by comparison?”

i shrug.

“well, i think you look beautiful.”

so I'll sit here and look at these girls in the sun dancing in the rain and just having their fun

we’re on the plane journey home.

spencer and jj sit next to each other, their arms pressed together as they share the arm rest. spencer is reading a book; his eyes scan down the pages at lightening speed and i know he’ll be finished soon.

i am on the opposite side of the plane, i sit by myself, i like the space.

i keep my eye on them throughout the flight; just as i predicted, it doesn’t take long for spencer to finish his book and he places it down on the table in front of him. jj picks it up and teases him for the long-winded title, i don’t catch what she says, something about astrophysics.

he starts to ramble, and she interrupts him with another teasing remark, he flushes when she gently nudges his chest. i turn my head to stare out of the window, biting my lip.

they aren’t even doing anything, jj is just being friendly. and i still can’t handle it. i lie my head back against the headrest as i gaze out of the window, admiring the new york skyline as it fades into the distance.

a nervous chuckle from spencer snaps me out of my trance, and i look back over to see him and jj giggling secretively as she whispers something into his ear.

 “where are you going?” emily grumbles, she’s half asleep with her legs splayed out across two chairs when i accidently bump her foot.

 “bathroom,” i say quietly with a forced smile as i shuffle past jj and spencer, my heart seizing in my chest as she teases him about how long his hair is getting, brushing her hand through the curls.

i’m already silently sobbing in the bathroom so i miss the pitiful look that emily and morgan exchange.

and I know it doesn't make sense to forget the past but I promise, one day, you'll be honey and glass

“agent fitz?” i say, clutching my phone tight in my hand.

“ahh, i’ve been wondering when i’d be hearing from you.”

i laugh quietly, “yes, well i’ve been thinking about what you said, and i think i could do with that change of scenery now.”

i wrote this in a couple hours and didnt proof read so apologies for an errors :))

part 2

[aciid-eater]

Tanaka Ryuunosuke x Black! Reader fluff/nsfw

Summary: when a special song turns a hangout into something more intense.

Warnings: Oral(receiving), great music, praise, body worship.

“Who?” Tanaka asked, laid out on y/n’s bed with his hands behind his head. The sun was beginning to set outside of her window, soft orange hues bathing the room in a nice glow. His shirt was thrown off somewhere to the side, forgotten along with his shoes.

Opening his eyes, he watched with full interest as y/n stood from her desk chair.

The sun had always been beautiful on her skin, turning a warm brown into liquid gold. It always made his heart flutter, counting the seconds before the sunlight would be on its way.

“Sza. An American artists.” Y/n clarified, voice low and smooth.

Tanaka liked the way she talked to him, the way she giggled and said his name.

“But then I wouldn’t be able to understand it.” He pouted just a bit, looking to the ceiling and closing his eyes again. His face began to rise in temperature as the feeling of a nimble hand appeared on his chest. A light finger traced the skin between his pecs, slowly going down until it reached the beginning of his happy trail. To keep from squirming, his eyes shot open, his face very well red now.

Y/n peered under her eyelashes down onto his form, eyes a warm honey color from the sun. She was absolutely beautiful. It was times like these that made him wonder how much longer he could torture himself like this. The longing feeling of wanting to hold and caress and girl who never saw him as more than a friend was eating him up inside. 

“She has sort of an accent while singing, I don’t think you would be able to understand even if you were better at English.” She mumbled.

“Move back.” He obeyed her word like law, using his palms to push himself back so his waist wasn’t hanging off the bed.

Y/n slid both of her warm hands up his chest and moved her leg over his waist. Tanaka used his hands to steady her, long fingers gripping her hips. She stratled his lap carefully, then she pulled her phone out the pocket of her sweatshirt.

Finally she tapped her phone screen a couple times, then a fluttering melody began to flow from the speakers.

“She’s one of my favorites. I play her music a lot.” Y/n commented, reaching out to run her hands over Tanaka’s collarbone. She was always so gentle when touching him, almost as if she thought he would break. He leaned his head back against the sheets, trying to take his mind off the pretty girl on his lap.

“Her voice does sound familiar.” He mumbled, closing his eyes.

Y/n smiled, reaching out her grasp his face in her hands. She began humming softly, running her thumbs over the skin on his cheeks and over his eyebrows.

She always felt lost at sea with him. As if nothing else mattered around them except each other.

Tanaka reached up, wrapping his hands loosely around her wrists and rubbing the inside of them. Opening his eyes slowly, he was once again breathless in awe at scene infront of him.

“The sun has always done you justice.” He mumbled.

“What do you mean by that?” She asked. His hands slid up and placed themselves over hers on his face.

“I mean you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.” He said. Y/n’s heart skipped a couple beats. She held her breath, afraid that If she were to breathe, it would blow away this moment she didn’t want to end.

“Close your eyes for me one more time?” She asked. Although confused, Tanaka followed her instructions. And he was pleasantly surprised with the gentle kiss her plush lips left on his own.

It didn’t last long, she pulled away, rested her forehead on his and staring into his eyes. He pulled one of his large hands from over hers and softly grasped y/n’s chin. The way her lips molded over his was intoxicating. Opening her mouth just a little, she moaned when his tongue slipped inside. She tasted sweet, like chocolate. Her hand wandered down his neck, fumbling her fingers over his collarbone. After a few minutes, she finally pulled back, filling her lungs with air.

“Fuck...” she stated breathlessly, placing a hand on his chest and sitting up. As she settled her weight, she let out an abrupt whine as her damp underwear came in contact with the bulge in Tanaka’s shorts. Cautiously, she swirled her hips over his crotch, watching as his eyes rolled back and he let out a low hiss.

“Y/n.” He mumbled lowly in an octave that made her shudder.

“Ryu...” she whined, squirming over him a bit more to get her point across. His back arched off the bed just a bit, his hands reaching out the grasp her thighs. Her fingers toyed under the waistband of his short, using it as leverage to grind her desperate cunt down on him.

“Please.” She whispered, eyebrows scrunching up in need.

Tanaka’s breath caught in his throat, his brain getting fuzzy as his his underwear got painfully tight.

Then finally, with the looped song still strolling in the background, he picked her up with one swift movement and placed her at the edge of the bed.

“Whatever you want.” He mumbled into the crook of her neck, pulling at the hem of her sweatshirt. Finally pulling it off, he tossed it off to the side and immediately his lips attached to her jaw. He made slow work down her neck, testing ever single spot with his lips. He left little heart shaped hickeys in places that made her squirm with need.

“Ryu please, I need you-“ y/n’s fingers pulled at his shorts, trying to get him to take them off. But one of his strong hands caught her wrists and held them still, his other hand kneading into her hip.

“We’re gonna get there, let me take my time with you, beautiful.” He stated, somehow unclasping her bra with one hand. Something like this could either make their relationship, or break their friendship so he would be damned if he didn’t enjoy it while it lasted.

Y/n gasped as his mouth came in contact with one of her nipples. His mouth was so warm as he flicked it around with his tounge. She arched her back foward, rubbing her thighs together as Tanaka moved her wrists in the air above her head and switched sides. He left hickeys all over her collarbone and her chest. Leaning back, he smiled at his work, flicking one of y/n’s nipples softly. He snickered when she yelped.

Finally he let her wrists go and softly he pushed her back onto the mattress, pulling her little shorts off and tossing them to the side.

“Those little things have always driven me crazy.” He mumbled, leaning over and placing a kiss right in the valley of her breasts.

“Good, that’s what I bought em for.” She replied.

Tanaka’s lips traveled down her stomach next. Y/n squirmed in anticipation as he pressed his fingers against her clit through her underwear.

“You’re soaked.” He mumbled in astonishment. He wasted no time hooking his fingers under the fabric and pulling them off completely.

His mouth was everywhere but where she do desperately needed him. He placed kisses all long her her calfs, ankles, thighs and stomach. Y/n’s breath hitched everytime he made another bruise on the soft skin of her inner thighs.

“Ryu baby, I need you so bad, please just-“

Y/n’s hands balled up the sheets beside her in anticipation. She didn’t want to rush him but fuck, he was taking so long.

Tanaka chuckle, watching y/n’s face flush as she sighed. Finally relenting, he pulled both her thighs onto his shoulders. One hand reached up to intertwine with hers, and the other moved to hold her cunt open.

Y/n let out a long whine as as Tanaka’s lips wrapped around her clit. Her free hand immediately came down to rest on the back of his head, not pushing, but just a soft weight.

“You taste so sweet.” He mumbled teasingly, the vibrations sending shivers up her spine.

“Ryu..” Her moans were so soft and delicate, they made Tanaka shiver as he flicked his tongue over the bundle of nerves. He was so hard it hurt, but he wanted to make her cum before he did.

Tanaka’s eye rolled back as y/n’s thighs clamped around his head. He lifted his free hand just to smack her outer thigh and hear her little Yelp.

And as y/n got closer to the edge her moans came out in shorter bursts. Her ankles locked behind his head, making Tanaka reach down and begin palming himself through his shorts. Various slurping noises could be heard just over the melody of the looped song. But it wasn’t enough to drown out y/n’s cry of relief as her release washed over her.

“That’s right, cum in my mouth pretty girl.” Tanaka moaned, slurping her up as her legs came down off his shoulders. Y/n propped herself up on her elbows, watching as Tanaka wiped the cum dribbling off his chin with two of his fingers. Y/n’s cunt clenched around nothing as he stood off his knees and lifted her chin with his opposite hand.

“Open for me.” He stated. She obeyed, opening and swirling her tongue around his fingers. Tanaka bit his lip, following the way her plush lips puckerered around his digits.

He wasted no time losing his shorts and letting his cock spring free. Pulling a condom from the pocket of his wallet, he slipped it on and ushered Y/n to lay back against the bed.

His hand rubbed over her hip as he tested the waters, pushing the tip in and out of her. Finally confident enough, he slowly pushed all the way in, catching one of y/n’s warm hands and interlocking their fingers.

She gasped at the feeling, she felt full as her walls clenched around him. His stroked started out slowly, fully in and out as he moved around for a spot he knew would have her weak.

Suddenly a loud moan was ripped from her throat, her eyes rolling back as Tanaka aimed to hit that spot again.

“You look so pretty like this...ngh taking my cock like a good girl.” He growled, speeding his hips up as he began pounding into her.

At the cry of his name, Tanaka leaned over flush with her chest to bite at her bottom lip. Her free hand clawed at his back, creating marks he knew he would have to explain to the volleyball team in the change room later.

“Fuck Ryu!” She cried, every sweet drag of his hips was sending her hurtling towards cloud 9.

“Don’t stop don’t stop, right there!” She squirmed under him, trying to stop herself from screaming into the air.

“You like it when I fuck you like this huh?” He smirked, slowing down just a bit.

“Yes!” Y/n cried.

“Say it.” Tanaka smiled. “Say it for me and I’ll make you cum as many times as you want.”

His hand trailed down the leg over his shoulder and slapped her ass.

“NGH- fuck I-I love it when you fuck me like th-this!” She cried, legs shaking as Tanaka sped his thrusts to be even faster than before.

“Who’s making you feel this good?” He asked, moving so hard that the sound of skin slapping almost drowned out the music.

“You are!” She yelled, head leaning back on the mattress as her back arched into his touch.

“Look at me, look at me pretty girl.” He demanded. Y/n lifted her head, catching his eyes in her half lidded ones.

“Now cum.” He said softly. Immediately y/n’s walls fluttered and she made a mess all around his cock, Tanaka following not too far afterwards.

He pulled out of her with a small ‘pop’. And after throwing away the condom, he put his boxers back on and threw y/n his shirt. Grabbing her phone off the floor, y/n pressed pause on the loop video. It was dark outside now, and well past 9 o’clock.

“So, what did you think about the song?” Y/n asked with a tired smile, leaning back on her pillows.

“It’s a beautiful song, though I like it better when the adlibs are you moaning my name.” He snickered, climbing on the bed and leaning his head on her stomach.

“That’s the power of Sza music.” Y/n yawned, letting her eyes flutter until she eventually fell asleep.