#n its mostly just like. amused acceptance. that’s it

[orchidniins]

hi! would you please be able to write a fic of george picking us up from a drunken night out and looking after us? i think he’d be so lovely 🥰🥰

Drunken Adventures | George Clarke

Summary: Just boyfriend George taking care of his drunk girlfriend Pairing: George Clarke x F!Reader Warnings: Fluff Word count: 2.8k+ A/N: George is such boyfriend material and would just be such a caring boyfriend. The biggest simp in the world. tbh not my best work, but this request has been in my inbox for like a month now. Hope you enjoy!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

George lounged in the familiar living room of the Arthurs’ and Chris's apartment, unwinding after a long day of filming. It had been quite some time since he moved out to live with you, and with you out all night for your best friend Jenna’s hen do, he was not looking forward to the prospect of returning to an empty apartment. So, when the opportunity arose to spend some time and catch up with the boys, he was more than glad to seize it.

Midway through their conversation, George's phone begins buzzing on its spot on the coffee table. Glancing at the phone, he expects to see your name on the screen, assuming you would be calling to let him know you were on your way home. However, concern washes over him when he’s instead met with the caller ID of your friend Lily. Instantly springing up from the couch, he excuses himself to take the call.

George's fingers hurriedly tapped the screen as he accepted the call. "Hey, Lily. Is everything okay? What's the matter?" His tone carried a hint of urgency.

"George, it's me, Lily," came the slurred voice on the other end. George let out a soft huff, realizing just how intoxicated your friend was. Patiently, he asked again, "Yeah, hi Lily. Is Y/N with you? Is she alright?"

Amidst the muffled voices and the noise of people talking over each other, he patiently waits for Lily's response. Finally, her voice broke through the chaos. "Yeah, she's fine... mostly. But she's like absolutely shit-faced right now. She's insisting that she'll get back on her own, but none of us trust her to do that, so you better come and pick her up. I'll send you our location."

"Tell her to stay put, I'm on my way," George says as he walks toward the door. With his phone pressed between his shoulder and ear, he begins putting on his coat. Lily responded with a quick, "Okay, thanks," before abruptly ending the call.

With a brief goodbye to the boys and a quick explanation of where he was headed, George was out the door in a hurry, calling a cab on his way down to your location.

A quick cab ride later, he reaches the club where you were at. He steps out into the cold night air and almost instantly spots your small group gathered outside. You were seated on the pavement, legs criss crossed, your head leaning against a lamppost while you scrolled through your phone, laughing at whatever was playing on your screen. The faint glow illuminated your features in the dim light of the street.

George couldn't help but shake his head and laugh at the spectacle before him.

The bride-to-be was video calling someone, oblivious to the chaos around. Meanwhile, one of your friends was bent over a nearby bush, puking her guts out, while Lily stood holding her hair back. The rest of the girls, keeled over in drunken laughter.

George made his way over to where you were sitting, a smile playing on his lips as he crouched down next to you. "Hey there, troublemaker," he greeted softly, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

You look up from your phone at the sound of his voice and your face lights up with a goofy grin. "Georgey!" you exclaimed, without a moment's hesitation, you threw your arms around him in a tight hug, causing him to stumble back slightly. His hand lands on the pavement, steadying him, while the other instantly wraps around your back.

"Hey there, love. You feeling okay?” he says, his voice filled with laughter. You returned his gaze, a grin spreading across your lips. "Yeah, I'm great," you replied, your words slightly slurred. You reached out and gently grabbed his face with both hands, planting a kiss on his lips, catching him off guard. 

"I missed you, you beautiful man." you continued, George chuckled softly, thoroughly amused by your actions. "How much have you had to drink?" he asked, his tone gentle and caring.

"Not that much, I feel fine," you insisted, trying to sound serious but failing as a smile inevitably crept back onto your face, causing you both to laugh.

"Alright then, let's get you up first," George says, gently brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen out of place before tucking it behind your ear. He then slowly gets you up to your feet, fixing your dress after it had ridden up while you were sitting down.

"Now, let's get you home," he says while you eye him with a small pout. Once you're up on your feet, you lean into his side, wrapping your arms around his waist and tucking yourself under his arm. His arm naturally settles on your shoulder, providing support to keep you steady.

As George reached for his phone and opened up the Uber app, you swiftly snatched it away, declaring, "But I'm having fun! I don’t want to go home yet!" In your haste, however, you accidentally dropped his phone, which landed squarely on his right foot.

"Ouch. Careful there, love, you nearly decapitated me," George joked, his laughter ringing out in the night air. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, unable to suppress your own laugh. As he bent down to pick up his phone, you playfully attempted to hold him back by his waist. However, your drunken attempt at holding him back proved worthless, causing you to stumble back as your arms detached from his waist. But, before your bum could hit the pavement, George was quick to grab onto your waist and keep you from landing on the ground.

"Okay, that's a sign, you're done for the night, Y/N," he says, gently getting you back on your feet. Once you're standing, you turn around to face him, his arms still securely wrapped around your waist to prevent another potential stumble.

You shake your head stubbornly, determination shining in your eyes. "No, I don’t wanna go back home just yet," you insist firmly, your conviction clear. "The entire city is ours, George. We can't miss out on this adventure," you explain, pointing towards the street. "Each street, each building, they all have stories to tell. And tonight, we get to be a part of those stories."

George smiles at your intoxicated ramblings, gently teasing, "What are you going on about?" His laughter follows. that contagious sound that you love so much, accompanied by the crinkle in his eyes. 

As you continue trying to convince him, George can't help but think how absolutely adorable you are, even in your drunken state. And despite his initial resistance, he finds himself giving in to your whims.

"Fine," he finally gives in with a sigh, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I can never say no to you, can I?” he admits.

You smile at him as you raise up on your tiptoes and give him a peck on the cheek "Exactly, now off we go Georgey!" With that, you grab his hand and pull him away from the club.

Turning back to your friends, you shout a goodbye, waving enthusiastically. George shoots them a quick farewell before turning his attention back to you. "You sure it’s a good idea to leave them to fend for themselves?" he quips, laughing as he gestures towards your just as wasted friends.

You laugh and shrug, "Eh, they'll be fine,” you reassure him, "Jenna’s brother is coming to pick them up, they're crashing at her place," you explain as you start walking down the street together. 

George raises an eyebrow as he asks, "Do you know where you’re going?" 

"We’ll figure it out, the night is still young," you reply, sounding carefree. 

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. "You're so full of shit," he remarks, and you roll your eyes, playfully swatting at his chest while he continues to laugh at you.

As you continue walking, you stagger a bit despite his support, catching George's attention. "Let's get you some water first," he suggests, concern coloring his voice. You pout in protest, but he remains adamant, guiding you to the nearest corner shop. He has you sit down, and makes you chug some water to help sober you up a little.

You two navigate the city streets just past midnight, the Friday night nightlife around you is full of energy. The neon glow of club signs casts shadows on the streets as the late-night crowds stumble out onto the streets. "Hey! Oh my god I love your dress! You have to tell me where you got it," you exclaim as you strike up conversations with random people on the streets as if you've known them for years, becoming extra extroverted when you are even slightly drunk.

George stays glued to your side the whole time, equally as amused and anxious, just wanting to make sure you’re safe and don’t hurt yourself, his protective side kicking in.

"Woah there, do you wanna sit down for a bit?" he interjects as you stumble slightly, tripping over your own two feet. His hand reaches out to steady you, but you brush it off with a dismissive wave. "No, I’m fine," you insist. Throughout the night, you two continue to dance under the glow of street lamps, sharing laughter over each other's absolutely terrible jokes, almost falling from laughter multiple times. 

As you’re practically rolling on the sidewalk laughing, you hear the click of his camera, and you immediately sit up, "Hey! What are you doing?" you protest, but your laughter betrays the mock seriousness in your voice. George just grins mischievously, snapping a few more photos, definitely exploiting your drunken state for blackmail material later.

He takes a moment to look at the photo he had just taken of you, a grin spreading across his face as he laughs. "You're laughing way more than you should at that. Show me!" you demand reaching out to grab his phone, but he pulls it away, hiding the screen against his chest. 

"Come on, baby!" you plead, giving him your best puppy dog eyes, and he can’t help but melt, quickly flashing his phone at you, revealing the photo. Your mouth falls open in disbelief, but you burst into laughter at the sight of yourself. Still giggling, you make another attempt to snatch his phone from him, playfully demanding, "Give me that! Get those photos off your phone, George!" But his height advantage keeps the phone just out of your reach, and you make a feeble attempt at jumping to get it back.

Your attention however suddenly shifts from your antics when you spot a lime bike stand out of the corner of your eye. You instantly forget about what you were just doing and run up closer to it, leaving George momentarily confused before he follows your lead. “George,” you exclaim eagerly, turning back to face him with excitement. “Lime bikes! We should totally ride bikes!”

“Great idea when drunk, huh?” You continue, trying to take the piss out of him. You shoot him a mischievous grin. “Bet I can actually manage to stay on one though,” you tease, throwing him a wink.

George rubs his face with his hands as he laughs, “Haha, very funny… absolutely not,” he replies with a playful shake of his head. “I think you’d actually kill me if something were to happen and you end up in the A&E. Not how I wanna spend my Friday night, love,” he quips, sharing a knowing smile with you. He then joins you and gently turns you around, pushing you in the opposite direction, away from the bike stand.

"Boo, party pooper, you're no fun," you jokingly accuse him, a slight pout on your face as you tease him for being a buzzkill.

"Who else is gonna keep you from making horrible decisions?" George quips, nudging you slightly as he can’t help but laugh as he says it. You roll your eyes at his playful jab, but a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. He brushes it off, intertwining your fingers with his, enjoying the warmth of his hand as you both start walking hand in hand.

As you walk, George notices you getting tired, your steps becoming a little slower and your conversation gradually quieting down. He looks down at you with a caring expression as he notices a small yawn escape your lips. "How about we get you home soon?" he suggests softly, his voice filled with concern.

But you shake your head, looking up at him with a soft smile on your lips. "Not yet," you insist, tugging him along until you arrive at a nearby park.

As you stroll through the park, the stillness of the night surrounds you, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and distant noises of the city. You two find a nearby bench and take a seat, kicking off your heels and swinging your legs over his lap. The cool night air kisses your cheeks, and you shiver, prompting George to take off his jacket and drape it over your exposed legs. You glance at him and mumble a small "Thank you, baby" before continuing to rub your hands together to warm them up. George instinctively wraps his arms around you, pulling you close and rubbing his arms against your shoulders in an attempt to warm you up. You lean into his warmth as you snuggle up close to him, gazing out at the twinkling skyline.

You sit in silence for a moment, feeling the weight of the night settling over you. You start to feel drowsy, comfortable and warm in George’s arms, and you let out a soft yawn, catching his attention. He watches you with affection in his eyes, taking in the sight of you under the moonlight. Your hair glows softly in the gentle moonlight, framing your face and he thinks it makes you look absolutely angelic.

As you snuggle in closer to him, you feel your eyelids growing heavier. George softly brushes the hair out of your face with a gentle touch. He whispers softly to you, his voice barely above a murmur, softly nudging you awake. "Can I take you home now?" he asks. You nod in response, finally agreeing to call it a night.

Once you're back at your shared apartment, you stumble in, shedding your heels and tossing your jacket haphazardly in the living room before making a beeline for the bedroom. George follows closely behind, gently nudging you in the direction of the bathroom. "Hold on there, love," he says with a chuckle. "You very well know you'll be absolutely pissed at me in the morning for letting you go to bed with makeup on."

You nod as you enter the ensuite, hopping up onto the counter and facing George as he comes to stand between your legs, his palm resting on your thigh. You point to the drawer, and he retrieves the packet of makeup wipes, pulling one out to gently start wiping your face.

The whole time, your eyes remain fixed on him, a loving and dreamy look in them. Once he's finished removing your makeup, he tosses the used wipe into the bin and chuckles, eyeing you with a curious look, “What?”

"Nothing," you begin softly, your hands reaching up to rest on his shoulders. "I just... I feel so lucky." Your voice is quiet but earnest as you gaze into his deep blue eyes, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Thank you for taking care of me tonight. You didn’t have to, you know. I know how much you were looking forward to hanging out with the boys."

George’s hands begin to softly rub the exposed flesh on the side of your thighs as he looks at you with just as much affection, placing a featherlight kiss on your forehead. “It’s fine…I was with them all morning," he begins, “But for you, I’ll always be there, whether you like it or not."

You smile up at him, your laughter bubbling over. "You're such a sap," you tease, but there's genuine affection in your tone.

He smiles down at you, his eyes warm. "I mean it, though," he insists. "There's never a dull moment with you, drunk or sober."

Then, he leans in, closing the distance between you, and places a tender kiss on your lips. As you pull away, you look into his eyes and whisper, "I love you."

"I love you too, you drunken mess," he replies, his voice filled with adoration.

With a gentle smile, he wraps his arm around your waist and effortlessly lifts you up, setting you down on the ground before placing a kiss on your temple. You quickly change into more comfortable clothes, and together you head to bed, snuggling into each other's warmth as he wraps his arms around you, finally putting an end to your late-night adventures.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Requests are open...or just drop in for a chat! 😊

[djarinsphere]

SOFT KISSES, QUIET EVENINGS | JOEL MILLER

Joel Miller x female!reader

Summary: An unlucky incident brings you and Joel closer together. After that, you continue to find peace and pleasure with him. (Pre-Outbreak!)

Request: Can you please make like one shot smut with pre-outbreak joel with reader.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, swear words, unprotected p in v, oral sex (female receiving), creampie, some very light dirty talk, mostly fluff

Words: 4.6k

A/N: I am so gone for this man... and this request just turned into something fluffy with some smut in between. I hope you can enjoy!

Masterlist | Request

You had met Joel on your way to work one day. Recalling it in your mind, it reminded you of the few rom-coms you had watched together on different occasions. The ones Sarah would always shake her head at and Joel would also just grumpily watch them with you – they made you happy, so he was willing to endure them. 

There were a few things that Joel was doing for you, just for you, but never once had he thought that it hadn’t been worth it. He got up earlier than he had to in the morning when there was the promise of seeing you sooner. He watched silly rom-coms with you, picked up your favourite food from another city, denied himself sleep when you wanted to read a little longer at night. 

Thinking back, you never would have expected all of this to come from such a small incident. Maybe in another life you would have driven home that day and never talked again, but somehow things ended up being different. 

That fateful day, your car had broken down in the middle of the road to work. You cursed and hit the steering wheel a few times, knowing you would be too late now. You had already been late to begin with, but you could have made it to work with a bit of luck. Now that luck had run out and you were stuck here. The car didn’t turn on anymore and when you opened the door to inspect it from the outside, you also spotted the tire that was certainly not going to bring you to work anymore. 

You didn’t even have a spare one with you. Not that it would change anything if the car didn’t turn on anymore to begin with. 

How were you going to explain this to your boss? You couldn’t. There was no way he would accept this ‘excuse’ for being late to work. You could feel your throat getting tighter with every second you spent looking at your car – that wasn’t moving anywhere anymore. 

A quick glance to your watch told you that you didn’t even have time to catch the bus anymore. The next one would only arrive at the next bus stop in an hour. And by the time you would arrive at work, it would be late enough for your boss to probably legally be allowed to murder you. 

“Fuck,” you hissed, giving the flat tire a kick, knowing that it couldn’t get any worse. It was already at the end of its life, a small kick to let some of your frustration out wouldn’t change anything anymore. 

“I don’t think the tire deserves that kind of hate, Miss.” 

You turned around when you heard a deep voice behind you. A man was standing there, hands in pockets, the once blue T-Shirt now stained with what you assumed was dirt. His hands were also smeared with dirt and you could also spot some on his cheek, just above the beard around his jaw. The man looked tired to you, but he was carrying a slight smile around on his lips. You didn’t quite understand what was so amusing about your situation. Nothing. Nothing was amusing and you were in trouble.

“Well, I think it does! I’m stuck here, because the engine won’t turn on anymore,” you grumbled, not caring enough to hide any of your frustration. The stranger had already seen it anyway when you had so rudely kicked against your tire. 

“Can I have a look at it or do you want to keep hitting that tire until it maybe… falls off?” He asked, raising his eyebrows ever so slightly. You opened your mouth to respond, but didn’t quite find the words. It seemed like he was making fun of your situation, but he had offered to help all the same. You would be a fool to turn it down. 

“Well, if you want to,” you mumbled, before clearing your throat. You suspected that the man didn’t hear you, but he soon moved towards your car, walking right past you and taking a closer look at the tire. “This one needs to be replac-“

“No shit.” You were quick to reply. That flat tire could be seen from a mile away. Of course, it needed to be replaced. 

A moment later you already felt guilty. Just because everything was awful today didn’t mean that you could talk like this to a stranger that was offering his help to you. Without you even asking him in the first place. 

“I’m sorry…” you mumbled. The man turned around to look at you again for a moment. He didn’t seem to be upset which let some weight fall off your shoulders. “It’s alright. I can tell it hasn’t been a good day so far,” he shrugged. 

You watched his broad shoulders move up and down. He was really attractive, even with the dirty clothing and dirt-covered hands. The man was crouching down in front of the car and seemed to think for a moment. “I can get you that one replaced, definitely,” he announced, standing up again. 

He walked around the car then, opening the hood of the car and having a closer look at the engine. You knew you were just awkwardly standing around, but at the moment, you were just grateful someone was helping you out here. The man looked like he knew what he was doing or he at least knew more than you about this problem. 

“Can you do anything or is it a hopeless case? I really need to get to work, but the next bus comes in an hour.” You tried to explain your situation some more. Not that it would accelerate anything. Maybe you just wanted to make sure that the stranger knew why you were so frustrated in the first place. “I see…” he mumbled as a response while he reached into the car, tugging on a few cords. “I think I need a moment with this. I could drive you to work though, before I properly start to repair this.”

Driving to work with a stranger? That seemed like a good idea to get murdered. 

“I don’t drive to work with strangers. I don’t even get into a car with strangers.” To be fair, you sounded like a little kid, reciting what their parents had told them about not leaving with strangers. 

“I always tell my daughter that as well. Don’t get into a car with someone you don’t know. Don’t talk to strangers.” The man gave you another shrug and then closed the hood of the car. “I’m Joel and what’s your name? Maybe we aren’t strangers anymore.” 

It was clever, you had to admit that. There was a silence resting between the two of you for a moment. Were you going to take the risk and let this stranger drive you to work? You had never heard of someone going missing in your town. You trusted most of the people here. 

“I’m Y/N. I could use a ride.”

That ride had changed your life. You couldn’t remember ever having a conversation as good as the one you had with Joel on your way to work. The fear of your boss even subsided with every new topic you two came up with. Everything seemed fine, even though nothing had been fine half an hour earlier. 

Numbers were exchanged, the first bricks were being set for something bigger. 

You were experiencing that ‘bigger’ thing now. 

Sarah was having a sleepover at a friend’s today, so Joel had invited you over to spend the night there. You didn’t move in together yet, it was still too early for that. You had talked about it already though, especially since it would also be a change for Sarah if you permanently moved in with them. 

You got along well with Sarah. Really well. You loved to watch shows and movies with her, bake with her or just play a board game or two. Every day spent with the girl was a great one and you started to see her like your own child with time. You hadn’t mentioned that to Joel yet though. Maybe your feelings were all over the place and it was way too early to say anything like that about his daughter. But one thing was sure – Sarah had a special place in your heart already.

Joel and you had agreed that you would pick up some food on your way to his house. He would come in late from work and wouldn’t have any time to cook, so you agreed on getting Chinese takeout. By the time you arrived at his home, his truck was already parked in front of the house, the lights from the kitchen shining into the front yard. A smile appeared on your lips as soon as you stopped your car and got the plastic bag from the back seat. 

After you rang the doorbell, it didn’t even take two minutes for Joel to appear in front of you. He leaned against the door slightly, grin on his face and joy in his eyes. You loved to see him like this. It was your favourite sight in the world, to be honest. 

He was wearing his sweat pants and a soft-looking blue sweater on top of it. Unlike your first meeting, his hands were clean except for a trace of what looked like pudding. He probably used the opportunity to enjoy some sweets for himself, now that Sarah was out for the night. 

“Already claimed the pudding from Monday?” You asked with a smile, feeling a warmth spread throughout your entire body. This felt like coming home. Arriving on his doorstep, being invited inside and exchanging a kiss or two on your way to the kitchen. All of this felt like coming home and not just visiting. Maybe one day this would be your home and you wouldn’t have to leave after the weekend. You didn’t say any of this out loud, but silently hoped that Joel maybe felt the same. Or thought about the same things, imagined them. 

“Of course I did. It knew it wouldn’t survive another day if I didn’t,” your boyfriend explained, a small laugh following his words. His laugh sounded like music in your ears, soothing you and relieving you of all the stress that followed you throughout the day. 

You took two plates out of the cupboard above the stove, moving your food from the takeout boxes to proper plates. “They didn’t have your favourite anymore, but I got whatever was closest to that,” you explained while also arranging some cutlery for you two. 

After moving everything to the small kitchen table, you sat down next to Joel. This specific chair had become your spot over the last few months. You would always sit here and whenever you weren’t there, no one else would sit in this spot. 

“I missed you,” Joel smiled at you, reaching over to briefly brush over the back of your hand with his thumb. It caused a tingling sensation to run through your entire arm. Every touch by him had this effect on you. Nothing had changed since your first date. All the feelings were still as intense, still coursing through your entire body. Joel occupied your mind for the whole day. 

“I missed you too. A lot,” you replied with a smile on your lips. 

While you two were talking about your day, eating your food and just enjoying the time together, you felt all the stress of the day falling from your shoulders. You started to feel relaxed, relieved to be here and just at home. Joel had become your home, just like Sarah had. There was no other place you’d rather be than here, at this small kitchen table, eating Chinese takeout before you would spend the night together on the couch, watching movies and chatting about your day. 

When you were both done with the food, you took both of your plates and put them into the dishwasher, together with the forks. Joel was walking around the kitchen behind you, getting out two wine glasses from a cup board and filling them with a red wine he had picked out earlier already. After work, he headed down into the basement and got out one of the good ones. Tommy had recently bought a whole box of very cheap red wine which did not taste good at all. Joel was sure he still had that taste in his mouth two days later – which was not a good sign. He wouldn’t let you drink that awful beverage. 

After filling both of the wine glasses, he put one down on the counter in front of you, before wrapping one arm lazily around your waist as he approached you from behind. His chin rested on your shoulder, breath brushing past your neck and leaving a trail of goosebumps to run down your spine. His soft lips planted a feather-like kiss on your neck as he pressed himself closer against you, humming slightly. “I’m glad we’ve got a night alone here,” he whispered, his voice deep and raspy. 

You slowly picked up the glass in front of you, taking a sip from the very good wine. You could already feel yourself getting excited at the small touches Joel was offering. Your heartbeat was picking up and the smile couldn’t be brushed off your face anymore. “I’m glad about that too. Leaves us with a lot of time…” you replied, keeping your voice down and glancing over to where Joel was resting his head. 

His arm tightened around your waist, fingers spreading over your tummy as he pulled you against him. You could feel his chest pressing against your back, just like the beginning of his arousal could be felt against your butt.

He took another sip from his glass of wine, before placing it down on the counter, ready to give his full attention to you now. His other arm wrapped around you as well while he continued to plant kisses on your neck. He sometimes stayed for longer in the same spot, making sure to nib on the sensitive skin, maybe leaving the faintest bit of red. 

You finished your glass of wine in one go then, also disposing of it on the counter before you completely leaned into Joel’s touches and the way he was sending shivers through your body. You started to feel the wetness between your legs already when Joel was focusing on your neck. 

His fingers soon slipped under the waistband of your pants, eventually your panties as well. You let out a small gasp, but your hips moved forward to press against his touch. You wanted more. You needed more.

His middle finger found your clit quite easily, just slowly moving over it in circles. A shiver went through your legs, but Joel held you tightly against him as he continued to rub your clit slowly. You grew more and more wet, more and more desperate for his touch. For some kind of relief, especially when he started to move his finger faster and faster. 

His name fell of your lips in as gasp, a low chuckle coming from your boyfriend in response. “I think we should move to the couch, honey,” he suggested, slowly taking his hand out of your pants. “Then I can actually help you out.”

The thought alone sent another shiver down your spine. You loved to be intimate with Joel, loved how he made your entire body feel. You felt sexy, wanted, every time he put his hands on your body, every time he made love to you or just went to chase his own pleasure, just like you did. You worked perfectly together, being able to read the other at all times and knowing exactly what turned them on and what didn’t. 

Joel took your hand, guiding you back into the living room where he pulled the curtains shut and sat down on the left end of the couch. “Come here, love,” he smiled, patting his lap for a moment before you sat down and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could smell his cologne again, that wooden scent filling your nose, leaving a tingling sensation in your stomach. Your hands moved through his dark hair, gently tugging on it before you leant in for a kiss, Joel meeting you halfway. 

The kiss started out slow and sensual, but soon turned more demanding, craving more and more. Your hands slid down over his neck, nails lightly scratching over the skin there. Joel took a sharp breath in response, but you could feel him pulsate between your legs, moving your hips forward a bit to rub your middle against his arousal. A groan escaped Joel once more, his hands squeezing your hips. 

Your hands grabbed his collar and you helped him get rid of the sweater, carelessly throwing it to the ground. Your shirt soon followed, your partner’s lips attaching to your breasts. His teeth scraped against the sensitive skin, a moan escaping from your throat as he made his way down with his mouth, moving your bra aside to get to your nipple. He started to suck on it, tongue swirling around it as they started to get erect with arousal. Your hips continued to move against his, working the two of you up, even though you doubted his arousal could grow even more. 

Your name slipped past his lips, his deep voice being muffled by your breasts. “I love your tits,” he mumbled, giving your nipples more attention before he eventually let go of them and captured your lips with his own once more. The kiss was desperate, full of desire and his hands did quick work with your bra, tossing it to the ground next to the rest of your clothes. His eyes moved over your exposed chest, filling with desire as his hands wandered up your body once more, taking your breasts into his rough palms and kneading them gently. He knew exactly what he had to do to get you worked up through your just touching your breasts. 

One last kiss was planted to each breast before he grabbed your waist and laid down you down on the length of the couch, swiftly opening your pants and pulling them down your legs. His mouth found your belly, placing soft kisses there until it made its journey downwards, teeth pulling off your panties until you were completely naked in front of him. There was no sense of shame between you two anymore. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Joel assured you which brought a smile to your lips and the heat into your cheeks. Your hand reached out to briefly brush over his beard while he leaned into your touch. Your gaze travelled over his bare chest, from the slight chest hair to his stomach, all the construction work having definitely left its mark. When you hand landed in his hair again, you tugged him closer, Joel manoeuvring to lay between your legs as you wrapped them around him. His erection was straining against his sweatpants as he pressed his hips against yours, so close to your wet core. Another moan escaped your lips, your body screaming for more of his touch. 

He rolled his hips against you once more, a groan coming from him as well. His hands travelled over your legs, giving your thighs a squeeze before he let go of you to strip his sweatpants down his legs. You watched him expose his strong legs as the sweatpants joined the pile of clothing on the floor. 

Joel directed his attention back at you when he started to kiss up your right leg, getting closer and closer to your middle, beard scraping against the insides of your thighs. His mouth eventually found your core, tongue brushing up all the way from your opening to your clit. That’s where he rested for a moment, tongue flicking against your sensitive nub, waves of pleasure rolling over your body. His arms wrapped around your thighs, holding them apart as he started to move his tongue in circles around your clit. 

You couldn’t hold back the moans coming from your lips and you also didn’t want to. He deserved to know how good he made you feel. Your hips moved up in a desperate manner to meet his touches, meet his tongue as it brought you pleasure over and over again. Joel wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking softly, his eyes glancing up to meet yours. 

Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging on it, holding onto it as the pleasure increased and increased, pushing you further to that cliff you were almost ready to tumble down. “Feels so good,” you murmured and it made Joel flick his tongue over your clit even faster. A tension was building up in your abdomen, getting stronger and stronger with each wave that ran through your body. 

Joel closed his lips around your clit again, sucking on it, giving you the last push over the edge. Your orgasm came in one strong wave at first, hips buckling up, his name slipping past your lips and moans following as the pleasure continued to course through you. A layer of sweat was building up on your forehead, your breathing getting faster as you continued to dwell in the pleasure. 

“Oh, I love the sounds you make when you cum for me,” he whispered into your ear, giving you a quick kiss to your lips before he got rid of his boxers finally. 

Joel leaned down to give you another kiss, his tongue brushing over your lips while he pressed himself against you, his cock applying slight pressure to your clit again. It made your legs shiver, that small contact, still sensitive from your first climax. 

His hands gently spread your legs apart a bit further before he aligned himself with your middle, eventually filling you completely. A moan came from both of you, your hands looking for something to hold onto, eventually finding his shoulders. You got a got hold of them when Joel started to move his hips against yours, starting out with slow and sensual thrusts. 

You felt so close to him in that moment, as close as you could physically be, but also mentally. His lips found yours again, putting all his adoration into it as he rolled his hips against yours. You moaned into his mouth every now and then, your hold on him getting tighter as soon as he started to thrust a bit harder. Groans slipped past his lips as well, a sign of his arousal and how much he liked being buried deep inside you. 

“You feel so good,” he whispered into your ear, his teeth getting a hold of your earlobe while his hips started to move faster, his thrusts picking up speed as well. 

The contact with his teeth was sending shivers down your spine while the tension in your abdomen continued to build once more. It was getting stronger and stronger, with each thrust, with each time you could feel him deep inside you. 

Joel let out another groan, so close to your ear, and you could tell he was getting closer to, his thrusts shaking your entire body. He was starting to chase his own climax, getting closer and closer. His hand found your hair and he tugged you a bit closer to him, to kiss you, to press you close against him while he continued to pound into you. 

All you could hear were your mutual moans, his groans and the sound of skin slapping against skin. You could smell his cologne so close to you, could feel his hot skin pressed against yours as he seemed to approach his climax, dragging you right with him. 

“I’m so close, baby,” he announced, hands gripping your hips as he focused on his last thrusts, making them slow, but hard. 

It was enough for you to reach your high as well. His thrusts send you over the edge, the grip on your hips pulled you closer and you could feel him pulsate inside you as he came and filled you up. A loud moan escaped your throat, your back slightly arching when all that pleasure came over you in a strong wave. Your legs shivered, your hands desperately held onto Joel’s back and his chest was pressed close against yours by the time his climax also faded away in waves. 

When your lips met again, the kiss was gentle, soft, while still being as close to each other as possible. Love confessions were exchanged between breaths, his lips left a few additional kisses on your neck before he eventually pulled out of you, gathering his boxer shorts from the ground and looking for some tissues to clean you up a bit. 

After making sure you were cleaned again, he offered you his hand to help you off the couch. “You know, a shower sounds wonderful right now. Together?” He suggested, pulling your naked body close as soon as you were standing on your feet again. “A shower together always sounds great,” you agreed with a smile on your lips. 

Your legs still felt a bit weak, your body still in a state of bliss, especially when you were pressed against him, arms wrapping around his torso. “Shower it is then,” he confirmed once more, before he picked you up like a bride, carrying you to the bathroom. 

You loved to shower with Joel. It was peaceful and a way to enjoy some intimacy that didn’t involve any actual sex. You both always took the time to wash each other’s hair, to cover the other person in shampoo and give them a good massage every now and then. You exchanged soft kisses, giggles whenever some water dripped into your eyes.

He turned the shower on, waiting a bit and then eventually checking the temperature to see if you two could go inside. When he was sure that it was warm enough, but not too hot, he got rid of his boxers again, but letting you go in first. He followed close after, pulling the shower curtain shut and eventually pulling you in close to himself. 

His hands found your waist, his right hand moving further back to rest against the small of your back. He leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss again and a smile rested on your face when he let go again. You felt loved, cared for. You knew Joel would always look after you and you would always look after him. 

His fingers moved over your cheek, eventually taking your chin between two fingers and gently caressing it. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You were sure that nothing could ever separate you. You would go to the end of the world with him and maybe one day, you two would also live together. You could watch Sarah grow up and grow old with Joel. 

This was everything you had ever wanted. Just live a peaceful life with him, wake up next to him every day and knowing that this was exactly the place you were supposed to be. You were meant to be here, with him and his daughter. 

Maybe you had already known the day your car broke down and you chose to take the ride offered to you. 

And what a ride it would still be in the future. 

If you want to be added to a taglist, send me a quick ask over here!

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter One: A New Friend, A New Enemy

The Pariahs That Saved The World (Masterlist)

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: mentions of death, canon descriptions (vecna's curse)

[A/N: Thank you to everyone who seems really excited about this! I am going to try and post for this one weekly, just so I have enough time between uni and work to write new chapters :) This one is a little long, but I needed to set up Reader's character a little more so enjoy!]

The Introduction <-

A New Friend, A New Enemy

“Y/n!”

You slip off your headphones and greet your grandmother with a smile, laughing when she squeezed you tight. It had been almost 8 months since you watched her wave her hand of farewell in the rear view mirror. You had missed her the most, you think. Her warm hugs, her calming perfume, the way she cared for you.

“Come on, I’ve made us some lunch.” She hurries you inside and you laugh again.

“I need to grab the rest of my things, first.” You shake your head in amusement, escaping her clutches and darting back to the taxi, thanking the man for pulling out your luggage.

Just as you hitch your duffel bag over your shoulder, your eyes catch something familiar a few houses down. A worn out and beaten Chevrolet sat abandoned outside of its former resident’s house, a white piece of paper resembling a ticket you had seen when the mechanics would return your property if not claimed. You could just make out the ‘for sale’ sign driven into the mud, your heart wrenching. You had hoped your return would be free from unwanted memories. That obviously didn’t exist in Hawkins.

“So, tell me everything. How’s Stanford?” Gran rushes through with excitement just as your feet are barely inside the door. “Oh, we are so proud of you, honey. Our little star, a Stanford journalist!”

“Gran, you know it’s only my first year, I haven’t even managed to write anything let alone publish it.” You say, following her with your bags. She was leading you up to the guest room. Well, technically, it was your room. You had never really accepted that.

“Oh, did you notice the Hargroves house is for sale?” She whispers out like an unspeakable secret, and you dump your bags on the floor.

“Yeah, I saw.” You try to remain emotionless, rolling your shoulder until the usual ache faded. You were used to it now, the muscles flaring up every now and then.

“Apparently- now, you didn’t hear it from me…” She starts to lean in and you suppress a smile. Your grandmother, the gossiper. “Apparently, the husband just took off.”

“What?” You suddenly gain interest, frowning.

“Oh, yeah. The end of last summer.” She nods knowingly. “Must have been hard for them after their son died. It was a tragedy. And that poor girl… Andrea down the road told me she and the mother were forced to move into the trailer park down by Kerley. Not fit for a child, if you ask me.”

“They obviously couldn’t afford anywhere else.” You say, mostly to yourself, and Gran simply hums in agreement.

“Oh, which reminds me, Melanie, the one with the bird nest hair, she…”

She begins rambling once again about the neighbourhood, obviously pleased to have her granddaughter back so she can share the gossip. You listened intently, nodding when you needed to, offering your own remarks when prompted. You loved your Gran. The thought of her being alone in this house affected you more than you realise.

The real reason you were back wasn’t because you had missed Hawkins. In fact, you were set on your Spring Break exploring Stanford and all it had to offer. But about two months ago, your grandad was omitted to the hospital and a week later, he was no longer with you. Your Gran had shared how his health had been deteriorating for a while now, that they had expected it sooner or later. So, in the end, it wasn’t a surprise. It didn’t make it any less sad.

“Should I be expecting guests for dinner?” She asks and you blink, frowning.

“Guests?”

“Your friends.” She reiterates, already busying her hands by pulling out your already folded clothes from your suitcase and refolding them how she liked it. “I assume everyone will be anxious to see you. It’s been eight months, hasn’t it?”

“Uh…” You purse your lips, shrugging. “I don’t know, I thought it could just be the two of us tonight.”

Gran gently places down a sweater and eyes you suspiciously. “So, you’ll be seeing them tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” You give off the first vague answer in your head, fiddling with the sleeves of your jacket and sitting down on the plush bedding behind you.

“Hm.” She sounds, sliding shut the first drawer before she silently walks around the bed and sits beside you. “You won’t be seeing them, will you?”

It wasn’t a question. You lift your eyes to meet hers and sigh.

“We aren’t as close as we were before, Gran. It’s… complicated.” You decide and she takes your hand in hers.

“You’ve known them since you were just a little sprout.” She ruffles your hair and you cringe, laughing and batting her hand away. “I’m sure whatever happened can’t be so complicated that you can’t… I don’t know, catch up over coffee? Or whatever you kids are doing these days.”

“I wish it was like that.” You say, and you meant it. After a moment, she seems to understand that you didn’t want to continue this particular conversation and she stands, brushing her outfit back into simple perfection.

“Well, sandwiches, anyone?” She offers and you grin, nodding.

The day before you left for Stanford, you were contemplating whether or not it was the right choice. Gran was right, you have known them since you were a kid. But last summer changed all of that. You weren’t sure you could see their faces ever again.

So, rather than try and find them, you decided to spend the next day unpacking. You’d be here for a month so it made sense to have everything neat and tidy. It was just until the funeral, and then you’d be back at college and studying away any memory of Hawkins being your home. Because it wasn’t. Not anymore.

You can hear the distant ring of the phone echoing up the stairs, continuing to pull out your books. You might as well be caught up with your classes if you were going to spend all your time inside.

“Y/n!” Gran calls up and you push away from the desk to lean over the banister.

“Yeah?” You ask as she stares up at you, the phone in her left hand while the right covered the receiver.

“It’s your friend.” She says with a small smile and your face drops into a frown. “She says it’s urgent.”

“Uh…” You shake your head. Who would be calling you? “Yeah, I’ll be down in a sec.”

Gran nods and relays the information, setting the phone on the side table and disappearing back into the kitchen.

Your footsteps were wary as you descend the staircase, eyes set on the white object beside one of your grandmother’s vases. There was a hauntingly familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through your body, one you hadn’t felt in a long time. Once you reach the table, you shift your focus to the photo frame. It was small, a collected memory from a few years ago now. You were stood there smiling, the camera capturing you in pleasant surprise when a brunette girl behind you had jumped onto your back. It made your eyes sting, and you knew you had to make the decision to answer the call.

Hesitantly picking up the phone, you hold it to your ear and close your eyes.

“Hello?”

“Y/n?” Nancy’s voice blares through and your eyes snap back open.

Barrels of apologies and excuses spewed from her lips and you stand in silent shock, clutching the receiver a little too tight. She could only be calling for one reason. You had known it before you had even answered the phone.

Something was happening in Hawkins. Again. And if Nancy was calling for help, then she truly needed it.

And you’d never let her down.

“Have we met before?” You ask, studying the girl stood next to you.

The walls of the archive were surprisingly bright, shining an iridescent hue on her dark blonde locks. Her blue eyes were blinking back at you, pink lips stuck in a soft pucker of indecision. She was pretty. Really pretty. And at the same time she looked effortlessly cool, a jacket you wished you own. Something about her felt familiar to you, drawing you in.

Then a pang of guilt hits you and you force your concentration on waiting for her answer.

Robin felt weak. Who were you? It was taking everything in her to open her mouth and speak which, as literally everyone knew, was incredibly unlike her.

“I don’t think so.” Robin finally breathes out. There was softness in the way you spoke to her too, calming her nerves. Those strange waves of anxiety were being taken with the tide like you were her lighthouse in the stormy sea of her mind.

“Oh.” You scrunch your face with a smile. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

She was surprised to see you put out your hand but she willingly shakes it anyway, smiling back.

When you pull away, Robin seems a little more comfortable, coming closer to peer down at your old project folder, reading along with Nancy. You tried not to stare, busying your eyes with your own work in Nancy’s hands.

“Anything… juicy over there?” Robin asks Nancy and the girl throws her a tight lipped smile.

“Nothing new yet.” She responds and you notice the strain in her voice. She adopted it any time she was struggling to enjoy somebody’s presence.

“Victor seemed like a normal guy. Dead family, missing eyes, took a plea deal, sent to Pennhurst. Blah, blah, blah, blah.” Robin utters as she skims over the page below, slowly raising her head to look at Nancy. “What are we looking for exactly?”

Nancy doesn’t respond and continues flicking through the pages, making Robin’s eyes widen.

“Nance?” She tries again and you frown.

“She’s focused.” You offer, smiling. “She zones in so much that she zones out sometimes.”

“Right.” She nods slowly, still staring at her. “Um, so are we, uh… looking for any mentions of dark wizards or alternate dimensions? Things in that vein?”

You remember something and open your mouth to speak before Nancy interrupts with a huff.

“I don’t know, okay?” She sighs loudly, leaning against the desk and meeting Robin’s eyes. “It’s starting to seem like this was just a big waste of time. And you’re obviously bored so why don’t you just call Steve? I’m sure he’ll come pick you up. And I mean, I’m not really in danger here, so…”

With that, she walks away from the table and grabs another folder you had brought, furiously flipping through as she travels down a different staircase to the filing room. Your eyebrows raise.

“Woah.” You simply say, noticing Robin’s frown. “She’s, uh… hell, I don’t even know. Nance gets ultra focused when she thinks she has a lead on something and, well… she doesn’t like to get it wrong. Which is understandable.”

“So, she acts like this with other people?” She asks and you tighten your lips.

“Um…”

“Okay, that’s a no.” Robin groans, dragging her hands down her face. “I’m trying, I really am, I just struggle with whatever the hell bonding is meant to be, I mean me and Steve literally only bonded because we were both getting tortured and thought we would die. Which, no, not an ideal way to start a friendship but you know what, it’s better than whatever the hell this is.”

“You were at Starcourt?” You frown and she looks back at you, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up-”

“No, no, it’s okay.” She waves her hands, “I, um… no one really mentions it anymore. Unless it’s the news and they’re pretending like it was a-”

“Fire, yeah. I heard.” You say, staring at the stairs Nancy descended. “How did all of this start?”

“Excuse me?” She blinks and you turn your attention back to her.

“This… Vecna, was it? How did it start?” You repeat, shaking your head. “Nancy could only tell me so much over the phone so I’m a little behind.”

“A girl was found dead in the trailer park.” Robin relays, gulping. “Chrissy Cunningham? She’s a cheerleader. Was. They found her with all her bones snapped and her eyes were… gone. They think Eddie Munson did it-”

“Eddie?” You gasp, and Robin looks surprised. “No, Eddie wouldn’t do that-”

“We know. Trust me.” She says hurriedly, “He told us everything that happened. Apparently she was floating in the air and her bones were snapping- it’s a really gruesome story but the same thing, like, just happened to Fred and we need to figure out who this Vecna is before someone else gets hurt.”

“Okay.” You breathe and she raises her brow.

“Okay? I just unloaded a dump of hell onto you, and it’s okay?” She sounded intrigued and you shrug.

“The last few years have been… weird. To the point where weird sounds normal now.” You say, a soft frown on your features.

Robin wasn’t entirely sure where you fit into all of this. Sure, you had information they needed, you’ve been a part of their group for some time, you made sense. What she was struggling to understand is why you were here now. And why you weren’t here before.

“How’d you meet everyone?” You ask before she can. Any thought she had of questioning your arrival was cleverly misplaced. For the moment.

“I worked with Steve at Scoops Ahoy last year.” Robin nods and you frown.

“But I never…” You start before your eyes widen, mouth curling into a smile. “Oh my god, yes! I do remember you!”

“You do?” Robin tries to comb back through her memories.

“Yeah, Max dragged me there maybe… a week after it opened? She was telling me about Steve’s little sailor outfit and of course, I didn’t believe her, so she had to show me proof.” You giggle to yourself, meeting her eyes. “I remember you were taking a break outside, Max introduced us. Well, kind of. She never got to my name before Steve arrived with that stupid frown on his face.”

“I don’t remember that.” She frowns and you bite your lip, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets. “Sorry, I don’t mean that in like, a mean girl way. I mean, my memory is apparently broken because I’m very sure I would have remembered you. Not in a weird way, either, like- I just think you make an impression on people- a good one. Not a bad one.”

“It’s okay.” You laugh and she shakes her head enough to make her bangs sway in her embarrassment. “I looked a lot different then. And I was, like, super shy. I was probably hiding my face or something.”

“Hold on.” She blinks with a smirk. “You’re the girl? Like, the girl?”

“Am I meant to know what that means?” You squint your eyes.

Robin simply laughs to herself until she clocks your confusion. “No, I… Max did bring someone in for, like, one of our first ever shifts together. I remember because when they left, Steve looked like some kicked puppy and I couldn’t work with him and that stupid frown so I made him tell me what was bothering him. Apparently, the girl that left was the girl he couldn’t get in high school and it ‘haunts’ him. It’s so stupid.”

You go quiet and her eyes widen.

“Oh god.” She covers her mouth. “Did I talk too much again? God, I’m sorry- I literally can’t control my mouth.”

“No, you’re right.” You say, shaking your head. “Steve… he and I don’t really get along. Opposite ends of the high school popularity pool until I won this debate contest and suddenly everyone wanted to be my friend. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but suddenly I was on Steve’s radar and, well, you know the rest.”

“You can do better.” She simply nods and you raise your eyebrow at her remark. “What? Oh, he’s amazing now. Like, a genuine gentleman kind of guy, but King Steve? Whew, that boy needed a leash or something.”

“You guys are pretty close, huh?” You ask and she smiles.

“Yeah, he’s my best…” She begins before her face drops. Oh.

“What?” You ask when she starts walking away.

“I know why!” She exclaims before turning her heel and marching down those steps to Nancy, finding her sorting through the filing cabinet.

If Nancy heard her, she didn’t acknowledge it. Robin felt so stupid. It had been a while since she’d been a part of ‘girl world’ or, more specifically, ‘girl-code world’. The thought of there being any tension hadn’t even crossed her mind before.

“You do know that Steve and I are, like, totally not a thing, right?” Robin asks breathlessly, leaning against the wooden banister.

“What?” Nancy frowns, shaking her head and turning to look over her shoulder.

“So I figure that you and Jonathan are still going strong ‘cause you guys are going to college together, and you’re like one of those unstoppable power couples, but I… I just… I wanted to make sure that you knew that Steve and I are just friends. Like, platonic with a capital P.”

Nancy’s response in underwhelming at best, a tight lipped smile and Robin almost groans in frustration. She can hear your sneakers steadily descend the stairs and she turns back.

“Just in case that’s adding any tension between us.” She expresses to Nancy and you frown at the interaction.

“It wasn’t.” Nancy replies and Robin sighs.

“Uh…” You start to say, both pairs of eyes immediately looking at you. “Sorry to, um, interrupt. I have stuff I need to do…”

“Right.” Nancy blinks apologetically, looking back at the folder in her hands. “I’m so sorry, I really thought I was going to find something. I… I didn’t want to drag you into this, really, it’s just-”

“Hawkins.” You finish her sentence, stepping off the final stair and leaning against the banister. “Yeah, I know.”

“Holy shit.” Robin gasps, suddenly grabbing the folder out of Nancy’s hands despite her silent protest. “Is that from The Weekly Watcher?”

She points to a specific part of one of the tabs and you move to peer over her shoulder, nodding.

“Don’t they write about, like, Bigfoot and UFOs?” Nancy scoffs, already dismissing the idea.

“First of all, UFOs are absolutely real. Bigfoot I’m still on the fence about.” She comments and you hum agreement. “But may I remind you we are looking for information on dark wizards? If someone’s gonna write about that, it’s gonna be these weirdos.”

“She’s not wrong.” You add and Nancy’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Yeah, there’s a whole article about Victor Creel. He claimed that a vengeful demon killed his family. Obviously I only added a reference for context, I never actually believed it. You know, before…”

You vaguely gesture the space around you and Robin flips the page over.

“According to several insiders, Victor believed his house was haunted by an ancient demon.” Robin read aloud, and you could feel the goosebumps prickle along your skin. “Victor allegedly hired a priest to exorcise the demon from his home- pretty novel for the 50s, Exorcistwasn’t even out yet.”

“Keep- keep going.” Nancy insisted and Robin frowns.

“That’s all that’s here.” She says and Nancy looks at you.

“He claimed that the exorcism failed.” You recall, staring at the cut out photo of the Creel Family. “He said it angered the demon. It murdered his family, removing their eyes.”

“Did it say why he wasn’t killed?” Robin questions.

“Victor believed he was spared as a punishment.” You say with a twist in your stomach. His whole family died. He was all alone.

“Yeah, that’s pretty convenient for Victor.” Nancy mumbles and Robin frowns.

“Yeah, or super inconvenient.” She challenges, her eyes looking at yours for support. You simply nod, feeling sick. “Victor was declared legally insane by the court, right? Well, what if this is why? I mean, it sounds pretty insane, it just didn’t go public because-”

“The plea bargain.” Nancy jumps in, and you can see her trying to slot all the pieces together, “The records were sealed.”

“What if a demon did invade Victor’s home.” Robin glances between you both. “It’s just, this demon wasn’t any old demon.”

“It was Vecna.” Nancy finishes, and you immediately start shaking your head.

“Okay, you guys got everything you need?” You quickly rush out, sorting the folder around so it would shut. “Actually, you know what, you guys can just keep that, I need to-”

“You’re leaving?” Nancy frowns, following you as you jog back up the stairs and to where you had dumped your bag before. Robin hurriedly grabbed your folder and followed suit.

“Yeah, I told you, I have stuff to do.” You mutter an excuse, slipping your bag over your shoulder.

“But what about-”

“No, Nance.” You suddenly say, much stricter than you intended it to be. You pause your steps, taking a deep breath to look her in the eye. “I hate that there’s something new terrorising Hawkins. And I’m sorry you have to deal with it. I am. But that’s your choice. I can’t do this again.”

Robin stood there, clutching your folder to her chest. Nancy was struggling with her words, and you didn’t look like you were going to stick around long enough to hear them.

“We need you.” Robin blurts and you look at her, frowning. “I’m sorry, but we do. You know more about this case than any of us, you dedicated, what, a whole month? Maybe more? To learn about the Creel House, about the murders. You have information we can’t possible find because Hawkins doesn’t like to keep around its records of murder, and- and Nancy said you were great at this detective stuff which basically means you know what we need to do next.”

Rather than respond, you start weighing your options. The best decision you ever made was leaving all of this behind. Stanford had everything you wanted; hope. Anytime you decided to help them, it was always your life you were risking. That they were risking. Why would this time be any different?

“I really hope you win this.” You finally say, offering half a smile before you push through those doors and don’t look back, disappearing into the darkening shadows outside.

“Damn it.” Nancy curses, resting a hand on her hip and the other on a table.

“What happened between you guys?” Robin asks into the silence and Nancy looks up.

“What do you-”

“I don’t want a vague answer.” She says, still clutching onto the folder pressed against her chest. “She looked terrified. Which, yeah, it makes a lot of sense under normal circumstances. But this was more like PTSD kind of terrified. What the hell happened last year that no one’s telling me?”

The silence left Robin in the dark, Nancy’s features pouring over in restrained emotion.

By the time you had dug out your keys with trembling hands, you could feel the prickling of tears threaten to spill at any moment. They had no right to ask that of you. Especially not Nancy. She was there last year, she knows why you left. And yet again, none of them were listening to you.

You sat in your grandad’s old armchair for about an hour, a book resting on your lap but it remained untouched. It would just be another distraction, another reason to pretend like nothing was wrong. To stop yourself from remembering, feeling.

It’s why you went to Stanford, really. You didn’t care about journalism like you used to. But the work load was almost unbearable, which meant that every waking moment would need to be dedicated to studying. If you didn’t occupy your mind, you’d have to relive last year.

“Hi, sweetie.” Gran says as she enters the room, a shopping bag in one hand. You hadn’t even heard her key in the door. “Did you see your friends?”

“Yeah.” You clear your throat, setting aside the book and leaning forward.

“What did you kids get up to?” She asks before quickly disappearing into the kitchen to set down her groceries. When she returns, you have your head in your hands.

You can feel her fingers gently pry away your hands as she takes the chair opposite you, smiling like she already knew what was going through your head. Looking at her, the way her eyes were glazing over, you felt so selfish. You had left to escape everything that happened last year, and you had left her for months to deal with it all alone. Here you were, wallowing in self pity because your friends hadn’t been there for you when you needed them, and it turns out you’re doing the exact same thing to her.

“I’m so sorry.” You say, wiping away the tear that trickles down your cheek. “I should have stayed with you and Grandad.”

“What?” She frowns lightly, shaking her head. “Darling, no. All we ever wanted for you was to get out into the world, find something that made you happy.”

“But I’m not happy.” You express, catching a sob that threatened to escape. “I just wanted to get away, get out of Hawkins. I wasn’t even thinking about it, I- I just couldn’t…”

Her hand suddenly finds your own, squeezing it tight.

“It’s okay.” She says and you lift your head up. She continued smiling, but it was much sadder now. “No one can expect you to move on from what happened last year as quick as that.”

“And what if I never move on?”

“It’s not about moving on.” She smiles. “It’s about acceptance. It’s about holding onto the memory because you cherish it, not because you are haunted by it.”

The clock in the distance could be heard counting the seconds as you sit there in silence. She was right, as per usual. You weren’t letting yourself feel. You should be embracing the fact that you still had her. Even with all Hawkins has been through, you still had her.

Your heart pangs with panic. She was still here.

“I should be getting to bed-”

“Come with me.” You offer suddenly and she raises her eyebrows.

“To Stanford?” She says as if it were absurd.

“I’m serious. Let’s move away, start fresh. We’ll find somewhere new, Gran. Please.” You beg and she offers a smile, capturing your hand by placing another on top.

“Hawkins is my home. It always has been. I was born here, I met the love of my life here. I watched my little one grow up and, when he had little ones of their own, I watched them grow up too. This is where my family is. I… I can’t leave.”

“No, don’t worry, I’ll get it.” You say, smiling. “You should get some rest.”

Your heart wrenches. If only she knew what you did. About what really happens in Hawkins, what lurks there in the dark. She can’t stay here, not when you know it isn’t safe. Not when she’s all you have left.

Three knocks echo out from the front door, and Gran shifts in her seat, quickly glancing at the clock. Who would be here at this hour?

“Thank you.” She stands with you, squeezing your hand as she dropped it. “Try and get some rest.”

You wait until she’s heading up the stairs and out of earshot before you rush to the door, gently brushing aside the small curtain and frowning at the silhouette. It wasn’t who you had expected.

The door is open barely four inches before she starts talking at you, ring-donned hands clasped together.

“Look, I know we’ve literally just met. And I probably- no, I definitely don’t have the right to ask you to stay with us, but we’re basically alone right now. Half of us are in California, we don’t have any connections in the sheriff’s department anymore. Everyone who would know what to do is gone, and you’re kinda the only person left who can help us. I get so much happened to you last year and I- I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but if there’s even a tiny part of you that wants to do this, then please listen to it. Please.”

Robin didn’t know what she was expecting when she left the school. Her feet had taken her further than her mind was planning, but she knew she had to find you. Max was in trouble, and they were all way in over their heads to not have help. Nancy refused to bother you any further, and she understood, she really did, but this wasn’t a normal circumstance. This was bigger than all of them, bigger than everyone.

“Robin?” You say, brows scrunched together in surprise. She thins her lips.

“Sorry to just blurt that all out, but I didn’t know if you were just gonna slam the door on me- or maybe I’d forget what I wanted to say.” She explained, feeling the embarrassment creeping up her cheeks. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing to you. “Max is in trouble.”

“What?” You sobered at the thought, leaning closer to her. Then, in a moment of split decision, you glance back up the stairs before stepping outside and closing the door behind you. “What happened?”

“We found a connection between all the victims.” Robin tries to explain, and you noticed how expressive she was with her hands. “Basically, Max has the same symptoms as the rest of them, and she’s, like, 100% sure she’s next of Vecna’s kill list.”

“Is she okay?” You ask, and Robin can see the desperation behind your eyes.

“Yeah. Shaken up, but she’s fine. For now.” She clears her throat, a pleading look as she stares at you. “We need to find Vecna as fast as we possibly can before he can get to her. I… I know about what happened last year. About your dad.”

You seem taken aback by her knowledge, eyes darting down to your shoes.

“I don’t blame you for wanting to leave all of this behind.” She sympathises, and she let herself be much calmer than she felt. “But I’m asking you if you’ll help us.”

Your heart was aching as you wipe your sweaty palms against your jeans, barely even feeling the cold rush of wind hitting your bare arms. You had meant what you said earlier; you couldn’t do this again. It took everything in you to move out of Hawkins, go to college and live a life the person you loved the most couldn’t do anymore.

But you were currently stood in front of a door. And behind that door, was the last person you had left, and she wasn’t planning on leaving her home any time soon. As it turned out, fleeing wasn’t an option for everyone else.

“I’ll do it.”

Robin blinks, studying you for any ounce of uncertainty. You looked deadly serious.

Maybe, just maybe, with you by their side, they were taking down Vecna after all.

taglist: @kryztalglear @officerrrfriendly @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean @spacedoutdaydreamer @em16cor @endurexxsurvive

[if you see your name highlighted in pink, it means that tumblr wouldn't let me tag you! i am trying to figure out the reasons behind this but it could be as simple as visibility settings so please check that <3]

[reotacchii]

Hi saw that your request was open can you please do a platonic Blade from hsr when reader is his little sister/brother, and Blade just loves them to death. I can see an overprotective Blade with his younger sibling.

Dream Lantern

・─ pairings : Blade x GN!reader

・─ synopsis : Headcanons of Blade and little siblings + fluff !!

・─ a/n : I'm truly grateful each day with all of wholesome request, thank you so much dear requester and hope you'll enjoy this one 💗! I'm not sure with how Blade would act since I just got to Luofu a day ago, and since we barely got info of his canon age.. I'll give you two separate headcanons with different range of age gap.

" A day of your arrival on this world, a bliss of happiness draw across a boy face. As soon as the boy saw your face, that when he knew he'll caring for you "

6-8 years old gap :

★ Everything you need is an instant obligation for Blade. He would literally treat you like a literal royalty to put in a sense, that show how much he cares and love for you.

★ Tired of walking? He'll piggyback you. Feeling hungry? He got you snack on his pocket (I rather believe he always bring your fav snacks anywhere he goes so in any case you're hungry, he could just summon it out of his pocket).

★ You are his only siblings, he'll do anything to reserve the world just for you.

★ Not even a thought ever came across his mind that you are a bothersome, he always find your company the most comforting, a relief even.

★ Whenever he came back from his mission, you'll makes sure to greet him with a hug (he almost got into a breakdown because you are so precious to him).

★ Your body are so small compare to his, but it's a good thing because you can literally clinging onto his leg.

★ Kafka also loves to hanging out with you, she even give you a beginner gunmanship lesson because you are Blade little siblings (Blade relatives privilege)

★ But oh boy.. Do Blade even agree to it? Heck he's a literal worrysome; what if you gotten hurt? You are still a child, Kafka shouldnt taught you that. Battle just didnt suited you, he'll rather have his hand dirty than seeing you involved in one.

★ But most of his thought are how much he wanted to spend times with you. Seeing someone else taking away your time to hangout with others does saddened him a bit.

★ "Put yourself to rest, Kafka. I will be the one to taught y/n the swordmanship"

★ "What a sudden outburst.. Just say you wanted to play with your little siblings~"

★ The age gap may not huge, but he always view and treat you as a baby

★ His cold death stare replied to Kafka remarks, but eventually we all know you'll both goes to play around together.

2-3 years age gap

★ The first time you joined Stellaron Hunter, he kinda opposed to your decision, but soon he'll accept it once he found out every mission will be including you involved in.

★ Every mission going so fun with you, it went very well that both of you receive a nickname as "The Hunter Siblings"; It just shows how powerful both of your dynamic are.

★ Though, he knows well you can fight well, yet he can be overprotective at a times.

★ You can be a bit reckless at a times, so it's his responsibility to get in charge if anything worst happens.

★ Also, he can't stand anyone near around you, even he cannot trust how the Stellaron Hunter member would acts around you. It's kind of like a delusion sprout that growing in his head and all he can think about is the worst scenarios.

★ To put much surprises for both Kafka and Silver Wolf is that,

★ He tend to do this to find your usual reaction of either embarrassed or slight annoyance. And what's annoying to you, its that Blade doesnt know a good timing to pull his jokes.

★ Blade actually pull a lot of jokes so much around you (mostly sass which you'll get used to it).

★ It became a habit between both of you to pull a playful tease and jokes around.

★ Even Kafka and Silver Wolf admitted to find it amusing due to your reaction on getting teased..

★ But without you notice, Blade does this a lot knowing you can be so nervous before the battle. He want to lighten up your mood before doing the job.

★ "What? The baby need to put their diaper on? If not, you are going to piss yourself in a battle" he sarcastically remarked, you swear you could hear his low chuckles; and the worst is he's doing it infront Kafka and all you can do is to hold yourself together.

★ "NOT INFRONT OF- DUMB BROTHER, I WILL KILL YOU!"

[cake-writes]

A Dutiful Disaster (Part Seven)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Story Tags/Warnings: Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Lovers, Royalty, Pre-Thor (2011), Smut, Angst, Drama, Slow Burn, Odin’s A+ Parenting, Cis Female Reader (she/her), No Y/N Usage, Second Person POV, POC-inclusive descriptors, Toxic Relationship (lil bit of abuse from both parties - mostly screaming matches with the occasional physical thing but he never like slaps her or anything), Smut, Slut-Shaming, Mommy Issues, Reader has anxiety, 18+

Chapter Warnings: anxiety, reader is super bitchy in this chapter, and so is her letter, oh my gosh you guys they actually talk shit out like MATURE ADULTS

Word Count: 3.8k

Snippet: “I do not wish to be kissed. It’s too great an intimacy for our,” you pause to consider the word, tapping your finger to your chin, “unique situation, wouldn’t you say? We are the furthest thing from lovers.”

“Oh?” Loki sounds amused by your answer – and then he drops his feet back to the floor with purpose, taking advantage of your startled jump to pull you further into his lap where you can feel the hardening length of him against your clothed core. “If not lovers, then what are we?”

“Married,” you gasp, arms clutching around his neck for fear of being dropped – or so you tell yourself.

Master List / Spotify Playlist / Part Six

A/N: And we’re back! This chapter finally ties us in to the prequel one-shot, as well as the argument between Loki and his father in part two. You may need to read them again for a refresher because it’s been a fair few months (in real life) since those were posted. Enjoy :)

You study your husband from above the gold rim of your teacup. It’s suspicious, the certain ease to his demeanour as he discusses today’s breakfast offerings with his servant.

Loki is manipulating you. He must be. It's the only conclusion you can come to.

You haven’t forgotten the nasty things he said about you to his father the day after your wedding. Loki made it crystal clear that he can't stand you, that he finds this sham of a marriage as torturous as you do, to the point that he'd even referred to it as a life sentence – much like your own thoughts on the matter. Yet, it bothers you in a way you can’t quite explain.

What’s worse is that the Allfather thinks you disloyal to the Crown, and you still haven’t been able to figure out why. You’ve been nothing but loyal, the events of last night notwithstanding. It makes you feel uneasy, knowing that the King has tasked Loki with ensuring your loyalty to Asgard, like he actually expects you could ever be a traitor—a proper one, that is.

Even so, you find yourself begrudgingly admiring the way your husband’s dark, glossy hair perfectly accentuates his sharp cheekbones – during which he turns his attention to you. 

“Is that acceptable?” Loki questions, just as you take another sip of chrysanthemum tea—your favourite, and all you can think is that it can't be just a coincidence.

You hate how infuriatingly attractive he is. Even now. Especially now, with his pretty green eyes so focused on you, like he actually cares what you have to say. 

“That would be lovely,” you answer amicably as you set down your teacup, even though you have no idea what you’ve just agreed to. Something about smoked salmon and capers.

Loki seems to accept your answer, and when he engages once more with his servant, you lose yourself in your thoughts. Two ragged, albeit manicured fingernails tap an anxious rhythm against the side of the porcelain cup in its saucer, each fingertip sounding its own melody.

Tink, tink. Tink, tink.

It worries you how easily Loki plays the part the perfect husband. Sitting here in his chambers is unnerving; you’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop, but he seems perfectly content, like he isn’t at all bothered by the contents of your letter. Nor does he seem to hold any opinion of the events that transpired last night. 

For now.

Tink, tink. Tink, tink.

The daylight streaming in through the open windows offers a glimpse of the fine lines near his eyes and the dark circles just beneath. While he always appears as though he’s never been able to get enough sleep, courtesy of his fair skin, you’re starting to think that Loki might have slept about as well as you did last night—in other words, scarcely at all.

Tink, tink. Tink, tink.

You conceal a yawn with your free hand as the servant bows and makes his way to the exit, and then you’re alone with your husband again. That knowledge should set you on edge, but you’re more focused on the rich accoutrements of his sitting room. It’s the first time you’ve been here since that awful argument following the attack; no sign of shattered glass in sight, but then, it has been a week since then.

Tink, tink. Tink, tink.

A vase full of fresh flowers sits upon the entry table. You’d bruised your hip against it that self-same night. How suspicious that the blooms are the colour of plum wine, a deep reddish-purple that makes your heart sing: your colour.

Tink, tink—

You stop tapping the instant you notice him watching you, and snatch up your teacup as if you meant to do so all along. Then you take a larger sip than you intend. The hot tea scalds your tongue, and his lips twitch in silent laughter as you try and fail to pretend it doesn’t.

“What?” you snap irritably.

“How did you sleep?”

“Why act as though you care?”

Visibly amused by your bristly demeanour, Loki retrieves his own tea, his slim fingers pinching the gilded handle with more finesse than you could ever hope to achieve. “I cannot help but wonder, petal, if you haven’t slept a wink. Were you worrying about how this conversation would go?”

You set your teacup down in its saucer with force, the loud clink of fine china resounding through the room. “Considering the events that transpired during our previous one, I’d be a fool not to worry. I expect that you will have me imprisoned the very moment you manage to lull me into a false sense of security.”

He doesn’t bat an eyelash at your vitriol, instead opting to take a sip of his tea. You can scarcely tell what kind of tea it is anymore, what with how he's drowned it in cream and sugar. Some things never change. It’s comforting, in a way.

Your husband savours the too-sweet taste for a moment before he speaks. “I will not have you imprisoned. You have my word.”

You scoff. “I threatened you.”

“Indeed.”

“With a knife.”

“A dagger, actually,” Loki corrects, and when you cut him a withering look, he gives you a shit-eating grin. You hate how stupidly reassuring it is that he’s just as insufferable as ever. Then his expression shifts to something a little more serious, his eyes softening at the corners. “You felt that I posed a threat to your safety, and you acted in self-defence. A sleepless night is punishment enough.”

You don’t buy it. “And my letter?”

“I suspect that you would never have sent it, had your fear not driven you to do so. No one in their right mind would call me—what was it, an animal?—among so many other insults that I cannot even begin to fathom them all, in a letter signed with one’s personal seal. That alone could have landed you in the dungeons, yet you did so with little regard for the consequences.” A puff of laughter escapes him. “You have always had an impulsive streak, darling, but never to that extent.”

He sees right through you. You despise it. “Yes, well—”

“If you truly think me an animal, then I can only imagine that you would indeed feel safer in another part of the palace.” He mentions the request you’d made in your letter so nonchalantly, like the two of you are merely discussing the weather. “Where did you have in mind?”

That does it.

“How—How can you be so calm about all of this?” you sputter. “Forgive me, husband, but I do not trust how willingly you would turn a blind eye to my transgressions!”

The precise manner in how Loki returns his teacup to its saucer betrays him. “Don’t you?”

You glare at him. Something is simmering beneath the surface of his suspiciously mellow exterior, but you can’t quite discern what it is. Not yet.

“If you think that I am calm, darling, then you couldn’t be more wrong—unless, of course, you honestly believe that I have any penchant for forgiveness.” His tone may be cordial, but every single one of his movements is calculated to the nth degree. The tactician.

No, he isn’t calm at all. He’s plotting. You should have known.

“Or is there another reason that you would arm me with more than enough ammunition to have you imprisoned?”

With that single question, the conversation becomes an interrogation. Your palms turn cold and clammy at the knowledge that he very well still could, and when you start to fidget with the white napkin in your lap, the cloth sticks unpleasantly to your skin.

“Is that what you want me to do? Arrest you for a rash, impulsive decision? A crime of passion?”

You can feel your blood pressure rise under his rapid fire, your anxiety and sleep deprivation giving way to anger. “No,” you bite out. 

While part of you feels that a life in the dungeons would be infinitely better than one bound to him, your more reckless side likes to push boundaries – to your own detriment. And Loki knows it as well as you do. His mouth sets in a firm line, his expression unreadable.

“Then you do trust me,” he says, tone neutral. “And that, dear girl, is the worst transgression of all.”

You stare at him, disbelieving, before you let out a loud peal of laughter – like he’s just told the funniest joke you’ve ever heard. It just might be. “I trust you, do I? No, husband,” you spit the word like it’s a curse. “I loathe you. If you have mistaken that for trust, then I pity you.”

If your venomous tirade affects him at all, Loki does well to hide it. A prolonged silence falls over the room as he rests his elbows on the table and laces his fingers before him, no less patient with you than he has been for the rest of the morning. He studies you – studies your reaction – studies every single flaw you try so hard to hide, and he says nothing.

You look away first. You always do, when your temper gets the better of you.

Only then does he finally grace you with a response. “I am amenable to your request. Choose whichever chambers you’d like.”

Your eyes snap back to him in shock, only to watch as he procures a small envelope from beneath his place setting. Your letter.

Casually, he extends it out to you between two slim fingers. “I wish to return this to you as well. I refuse to hold something so incriminating over your head. It is neither fair to you, nor to our marriage.”

You stare at it, then at him, stunned into silence by his magnanimity. The Loki you know would never do such a thing. He’d hold onto it for leverage.

Your husband rolls his eyes, almost like he knows what you’re thinking. “If you do not take it, then I will destroy it in a similar manner to the gift you so graciously decided to bestow upon me, after…” he shifts uncomfortably in his chair, then, “after what I did to you that morning.”

He means his own letter – the one you’d returned to him, torn to shreds after he’d all but thrown you into the entry table. The very same entry table upon which those lovely flowers now rest.

You sit up straighter at the memory. It sets you on edge, and though you’re tempted to cower, instead you overcompensate. “Oh? Go on, then.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“It is incredibly cathartic, you know,” you drawl, delicately picking up a biscuit between your thumb and forefinger to examine its intricate design. The sugar granules glimmer in the light. “To destroy one’s heartfelt letter in a fit of anger. Though I must confess,” you hold your head high, smug as can be, “I did not read what you’d written before doing so.”

That doesn’t seem to faze him either. “You say that as if you expect it to surprise me.”

You scrunch your nose at him in annoyance. “Well? Go on. Or will you not follow through on your promises?”

His promise not to harm you. His promise not to touch you. His promise not to lock you away.

Maintaining eye contact, you use your teeth to break off a piece of the biscuit with a crunch.

Your challenge isn't lost on him. “Very well,” Loki sighs. He swiftly opens the letter to pull out the fine stationery upon which you’d so hastily scrawled all manner of insults, after which he makes a point to show it to you, front and back, to prove its authenticity. “I’ll not have you thinking I’ve stowed it away to use against you later on.”

You bat your eyelashes at him. “I see you’ve turned over a new leaf.”

“Charming,” Loki comments dryly, but you don’t miss the humour in his tone – nor in his eyes as he skims them down the page. “I must say, darling, you have quite the talent for castigation. It would be a waste not to read such a heartfelt letter aloud.” His eyes flick back up to yours, then, and you know for a fact that he’s taunting you. “For posterity. You understand.”

Posterity. There is no doubt in your mind that he knows you only wrote it yesterday. You’d even sealed the envelope with the ink still wet, as evidenced by the dark smudges littering the page.

“Stars above,” you grouse. “Get on with it, then, seeing as you are positively chomping at the bit to humiliate me.”

“Humiliate you? No.” Loki holds your gaze, resolute, and for once, you’re inclined to believe him. “I want you to acknowledge exactly what you’ve said of me before we put all of this to rest.”

Of course he does. Gracelessly, you wave a hand at him as if to say go ahead.

Loki clears his throat before he begins to read your letter verbatim, surprisingly in a manner that befits its serious nature. His voice holds not a single shred of mockery.

“To my dear, despicable husband,” he arches an eyebrow at you, “I fear I cannot stand this any longer. My chambers are in such close proximity to yours that I’d sooner return home than sleep here for another night, knowing that a wolf in sheep’s clothing rests his weary head so near to mine.”

Whether he intends it to be or not, it is humiliating to hear what you’ve written become spoken word. All too soon, you feel your face start to flush.

“I find myself ill with the knowledge that the Einherjar would allow such a predator to prowl these halls while I remain entirely defenceless. Nay, it is hardly reassuring to know that not a single soul shall protect me from the animal who would bring me harm, either in his own chambers or in our marital bed.”

When Loki pauses, you immediately recognise the real reason behind this exercise. Though you’d written the letter to be purposefully harsh in order to invoke a reaction, in the light of day, your spiteful words seem to imply something else.

You haven’t just told him of your fears in a general sense, using your marital bed as an example. You’ve alluded to a significantly more heinous act.

“You will not see me become your prey, thrilling though the chase may be to a brutish man with little regard for others. I refuse to become the spoils of a war you’ve so savagely waged upon me and my body for no other reason than your own entertainment.”

No wonder he’d been so angry with you last night. The implication that he would assault you in such a way is bad enough on its own, but there is another layer.

For centuries, the two of you have harboured a forever unspoken secret. Neither of you have acknowledged it outright, but it’s there. You’ve seen each other at the den – the covert, invitation-only club which caters to the niche sexual preferences that both you and Loki seem to share. Namely those that are, and have always been, less than socially acceptable.

“One cannot expect an animal to behave in any way but his basest nature. As a scholar of grey morals, you have always preferred books to people, but a snake, however erudite, is still a snake.”

There, on multiple occasions, your rooms have been next door to each other—through no fault of your own, though you suspect Loki has done it intentionally. After all, what he’s seen of you through the window in between are things that you’d never tell another soul, and you’re sure he relishes in holding that over your head, if not your letter.

But then, you’ve also seen similar of him. His proclivity for consensual non-consent is just one of the great many things you’ve witnessed, time and time again, and you realise, now, that Loki thinks you’ve used that forbidden knowledge against him. He thinks you’ve used it to hurt him in a way that most others could never.

“No ruffian should ever be permitted to walk freely as you do. Until such a time that you do not, for my continued health and wellbeing I have made arrangements to return to my family’s manor.”

Of course he’s bothered by what you’ve implied – albeit unintentionally. And he has every right to be.

“I will only be persuaded to stay if you grant me a new set of chambers as far from yours as possible, for I have no desire to encounter any manner of beast in the wild.” Loki snorts derisively and drops the letter down onto the table between the two of you. “Disrespectfully yours, your dutiful wife.”

There is no laughter to be elicited, now, nor anger, but something else entirely. Loki hides it well, but the implication has clearly gotten under his skin. You can see it in his eyes, and in his posture, how guarded he is as he looks to you for a response.

Thoroughly humbled, you swallow the lump in your throat and focus upon your lap. “I… I did not mean what you’ve understood my words to mean.” 

When you glance back up at him, you immediately have to look away again in shame when you find him watching you, jaw set, waiting for a proper apology. 

“Of course, that does not matter when they have made such an impact,” you rush to add. “I sincerely apologise for my thoughtlessness. I did not mean to imply that you would do something terrible.”

Silence stretches uncomfortably between the two of you as you begin to pick at the skin around your nails. At the very least, you should have reread your own letter before you sent it. Perhaps then you wouldn’t feel so guilty.

After a prolonged few moments, he asks quietly, “What else could you have possibly meant?”

“I meant to paint a picture of my fears.” You accidentally draw blood from a hangnail, and it stings. “My intent in mentioning our marital bed was to offer an example of one such fear—not that sort of fear, mind, but I fully understand how it could have sounded like an accusation.”

“I see.”

Finally, you muster the courage to look at him again, impassioned because you would never, ever use what you know against him. “You’ve been nothing but a gentleman in that regard, Loki. You respected my wishes on our wedding night. You have asked for my consent during every one of our trysts. Please know that I would never accuse you of anything untoward.”

His eyes search yours for a long time, trying to discern the lie, but there isn’t one. Then he exhales a long, weary sigh and leans back in his chair, the tension visibly lifting from his shoulders. “Norns,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “Yes, I suppose not even you would stoop so low.”

A jab.

You respond with the opposite: a jest. “Ah, but how could you know for certain? What with our—” you clear your throat, nearing ever closer to openly acknowledging the forbidden secret that you both share, “our history?”

It’s the closest either of you have come to doing so. You and Loki have been playing this game for centuries, trying to see who will cave first, but you continue to tiptoe around it.

Just as you predicted, the layered meaning instantly captures his attention. “Our history?” he repeats, as if he doesn't quite believe he's heard you properly, before his lips curl up into that same insufferable grin you so adore. “Oh, do go on, sweet. I’m all ears. What about our history?”

You try to give him a deadpan look, but find it impossible to keep the smile off of your face. “Only that we have never enjoyed each other’s company, you and I. You know that as well as I do.”

It isn't at all the history you’d originally mentioned, and you’re well-aware he recognises that when his voice takes on a note of smooth, persuasive silk. “In what way do you intend for me to take that, darling? Because I suspect that there are many things for a husband and wife to... enjoy.”

His insinuation is absolutely not what you meant, and he knows it, but your heartbeat quickens all the same.

Just in the knick of time, two rapid knocks resound on the door. 

“Enter,” Loki calls out, never taking his eyes off of you. Something about the heat within them, however slight, makes you think he isn’t done with you just yet.

You find yourself silently thanking whoever has chosen to interrupt.

The door opens, and another servant pushes a small gold cart into the room, two shelves stacked high with breakfast delights. The spread is much more elaborate than your typical morning meal, and your mouth waters.

“Now, I believe you said I would find this cathartic?”

You glance back over at your husband, only to watch him deftly pluck your letter up from the table. Before you can get a word in edgewise, however, you watch as your stationery sets aflame in the palm of his hand.

It’s an impossible sort of fire, for it doesn't seem to burn his skin. 

Magic.

You’ve always loved his magic, even now, loathe as you’d ever be to admit that you find Loki’s mastery of it in any way appealing. He wields his seidr like one might a paintbrush, creating masterful works of art from intricate spells and enchantments.

As the flames burn away your spiteful letter, your eyes follow the curling wisps of smoke as it drifts up, up, up towards the intricately-painted ceiling. Instead of the colourful collection of wildflowers you expect to see upon it, however, you find a field of white daffodils in their place.

A symbol of forgiveness.

In that moment, as you stare at the illusion he’s cast, you realise that your husband will forever be an enigma to you. Perhaps he’s changed in the great many years you've known him, or maybe you've never really known him at all.

Then Loki lazily waves his hand, and the illusion dissipates—as do the singed remains of your letter.

He’s manipulating you. He must be. It’s the only conclusion you can come to, but when you meet his eyes once more – when you see the mischief shining within them, and the softness hidden just beneath – you desperately wish that he wasn’t.

Part Eight

And because I’m a clown, here’s my ko-fi / patreon if you’ve got a buck or two to spare so I can buy a new laptop! Otherwise reblogs and keysmashing in my ask box are more than welcome 🤡🤡🤡 Thanks so much for reading!!!

[moontyuns]

Hello!!! Can i request a Beomgyu drabble with the kiss promt "if you win, i'll kiss you", please? Thank you in advance!!

Word count: 1k Pairing: beomgyu x reader Genre: fluff Rating: PG-13 Warnings: none

Kiss prompts game; “if you win, i'll kiss you” x beomgyu

a/n: i’m so sorry for the delay!! But i finally managed to write this prompt as something decent, so i hope that you will like it <3

Finally, the exams season is over, so you decide to celebrate it with your little group of friends consisting of 5 boys plus you. Not that you did super great this time and you never had all “excellent” on your exams but that never bothers you and definitely does not prevent you from going to arcades. This was Soobin’s idea that all of you go to play arcades and then go to some restaurant to actually celebrate it, Kai was the first to support it, and then other guys did agree on it as well as you.

“So, is everyone ready to mark the end of the exams and the start of the holidays?” Yeonjun asked excitedly and every one of you shouted a loud “yes!” and all of you headed to the arcades.

You did play a lot of different games, your favorite is air hockey so you and Taehyun were stuck there for some time, while the rest of your group played other games. Even though you mostly paired in some games with Taehyun or Yeonjun your eyes almost never left Beomgyu. It feels like they’re being glued to him, at some times you manage to avert your gaze before he notices you but at some times you were dazed to the point when Beomgyu looked at you questionably then you feel kind of embarrassed. Taehyun nudged you about it (you cursed him for being the smartass that he is) a few times and you just waved his questions off, because you are not ready to accept out loud the fact that you have actual feelings for one of your close friends.

All of you played here for about two or maybe even three hours and decided that it was time to wrap it up but then Yeonjun suggested playing a few rounds of basketball game, the one with the smallest score will pay at the restaurant for the meal. At first, you wanted to play one by one but then thought that it would be time-consuming as there are 6 people so you divided into pairs and you ended up being paired with Beomgyu, you two were second in the line. Soobin and Yeonjun did pretty well and it made you a bit nervous because your skills in basketball weren’t that wonderful so you hope for Beomgyu to do the most for your team. However, as you started the game it wasn’t great at all, you keep missing the ring and so did the boy beside you. “Ughhh..if we will keep doing like this we will end up last!” you said frustrated and looked at Beomgyu with a frown painted on your face. “Sorry Y/n, I don’t think it's my lucky day today,” Beomgyu said sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck. “Okay. Choi Beomgyu, if you win, I’ll kiss you!” you said with a voice full of confidence in your words but once your brain registered them your face felt so hot. Beomgyu turned his head to you abruptly looking at you amused. “Woah, Y/n will you kiss me if I win?” Soobin asked you curiously but you only made a disgusted face at him, “Hey! That’s so rude of you, I’m offended!” the boy pouted. “I don’t care Soob” you rolled your eyes, “It’s a very special proposal only for Beomgyu” You meet his eyes and saw that mischievous glint inside. After this, his shots were much better than before and the score gets higher so you ended up with one point ahead of the older boys. 

The competition ended with Yeonjun and Soobin being the last place in this bet and they’re gonna pay for the dinner. “Yaaayyy!! We win! I’m so glad that my poor wallet will not lose its money” you said dramatically and the boys laughed (except for Yeonjun and Soobin whose wallets are gonna cry today). When you went out of the building it was already late evening and the sun was almost got down. Beomgyu took your hand and stopped you on the way. “Gyu? We should catch up with the boys..” you looked at him and your cheeks suddenly feel hotter, his gaze was directly at you, and it makes you feel so flustered. “Y/n, you promised me something” A small smirk appeared on his pretty face. Oh damn..I almost forgot about it. Now you slightly, just a tiny bit, regret that you said that before, because how can you kiss him? You are perfectly sure that he never feel the same as you and he will do this just to tease you later. “Uh..Gyu heh..I thought..uh..I don’t know” you mumbled with your eyes looking at your feet as if it's something interesting. A moment later, the boy’s hand took your chin up closer to his face, it happened so fast that you didn’t even have time to register what was going on. “Stop this. Just kiss me,” he whispered, his lips so close to yours and you can feel his warm breath fanned over your lips. Your mouth is dry from how nervous you are, but you thought that it was now or never, when else will you have the chance to kiss Choi Beomgyu, the boy you have had a crush on for almost a year now. You closed the short distance between your lips and captured his in a sweet and delightful kiss, the boy responded momentarily. The kiss was slow and gentle, you never knew that Beomgyu’s lips would be this soft and warm, you can’t believe that it’s real. Until you heard a very loud shout behind you “Come on! Right in front of my salad, guys” Soobin complained with disgust written on his face. “Wait until you get home, lovebirds. We don’t wanna be witnesses to this thing, my eyes aren’t ready” added Taehyun, and both of you groaned pulling off each other. “Shut the hell up, guys! We will catch up with you soon, just go!” Beomgyu answered back, clearly annoyed with their remarks but you only giggled at him and leaned your forehead into his shoulder.

Reblogs and likes are highly appreciated <3 Do not - steal / copy / repost / translate any of my works !

[rubra-wav]

Rosie (hurt/comfort) x reader Entry #1

A/N been feeling a bit shit, so I wrote this. Rosie is just so <3

Cw: Sfw, established friendship, meant to be platonic but could be viewed as romantic, gn reader

- Cannibal town was quiet around this time. Barely anybody was outside due to the proposed curfew Rosie set up to ensure the more rowdy members of her people would stay in line.

- As you walked through the door of Rosie's emporium, you could see it seemed like it was about to be shut for the night. The lights were mostly turned off, bathing the boutique in a dim glow that was lacklustre in comparison to its normal bright pink interior.

- Hearing the bell at the door ring as you entered, the towering form of Rosie appeared with her usual smile on her face - albeit a little weary.

- Upon seeing you, your face very clearly showing the weight on your shoulders, Rosie's black eyes widened in surprise as her black lips parted in clear worry.

- She quickly walked over to you, putting a hand on your shoulder and looking down at you.

- "Oh, (Name)! I wasn't expecting to see you here tonight. You look dreadful. Has something happened, dear?"

- Your tired face crumpled, tears forming at the corners of your eyes as you finally fell apart. "I'm sorry for bothering you so late. I just.. wanted to see you." Your voice cracked, and the woman looked extra surprised at the sudden outburst. It was unlike you to crumple so fast in her company.

- Rosie hummed with furrowed brows and moved to wrap her arm around your shoulders and guide you into the plush sofa to sit next to her.

- Usually, her clients would sit across from her, but with the way you were seemingly seeking physical comfort from her - leaning into her side as you sniffled loudly as tears rolled down your cheeks - she sat down next to you, rubbing your arm as she allowed you to burrow your face into her neck.

- "I'm sorry." You apologised again as you began to try to compose yourself, Rosie's warm embrace grounding you with the gentle pressure.

- Rosie shook her head with a soft chuckle. "It's really no problem. I would never turn someone away for simply being upset, let alone you." She said as she picked up the box of tissues on the table and offered them to you.

- You pulled your face away from her neck as you graciously accepted them.

- Once you blew your nose and wiped your eyes, you were surprised to feel yourself pulled to lay down, head coming to rest in Rosie's lap.

- Her sharp nails gently passed over your scalp as she began running her fingers through your hair while humming a tune. Any other person would be terrified to have a cannibal - let alone the overlord of the cannibals - doing this. But it felt like heaven and a half (ironically) to be like this after the time you have had recently.

- You sighed loudly as you relaxed into her, squeezing your eyes shut as you drank in the affection she was giving you.

- For a small while, you two sat in silence, her allowing you to melt into her with clear amusement.

- "Now, do you want to tell me what's got you so worked up, dear?" Rosie asked again, not halting running her fingers through your hair soothingly.

- You took a deep breath as you opened your eyes, looking forward tiredly. "It's stupid, really. I just feel like I've lost my way completely. Don't know what to do with myself, and I feel like I'm wasting time trying to figure it out." You smiled sadly, giving a humourless laugh as you said it out loud.

- Rosie hummed slowly in thought as she pondered your words before shaking her head. "Nope." She said, popping the 'P' on it to emphasise her answer.

- You furrowed your brow, turning to lay on your back as you looked up at her. "What?" You asked.

- "'No' to all of the above, (name)." She said, smiling down at you as if what you were saying was obviously wrong. You snickered as the hand that was formerly in your hair now pinched your cheek and pulled at it softly as if half-heartedly scolding you.

- "Darling, life is a mess. Especially down here. There should be, and is, no shame in taking your time to figure things out. And anyone who claims to know what they are doing at all times with themselves is a bloody liar." Her hand cupped your cheek and she looked down at you fondly.

- "You youngens need to learn to take more care of yourselves. The world is moving fast, but you don't need to sprint at all points trying to keep up with it. It's fine not to know what you're doing and to figure that out at your own pace, really darling." She laughed, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light of her emporium. You allowed yourself to laugh with her, Rosie's laugh was absolutely contagious.

- You leaned into her touch, hand still cupping your cheek and breathed in relief as you felt the heavy weight of everything beginning to lift off of you a bit.

- As you basked Rosie's warm presence, the smiling cannibal gently rubbed your cheek as she began to talk with you about her day involving Susan, regaling the tale of the horrid old woman harassing some poor sucker who was passing through the town earlier in the day with exasperation.

She's just so warm and supportive, I love her sm 🙏

- Laying there, in the protective grasp of Rosie who animatedly expressed both the frustration and humour about her day, it felt like everything would be okay in the end.

[helloalycia]

watching TV [two] // kate bishop

summary: you’re beginning to get over your sudden breakup, but it’s left it’s mark on you. And as if that’s not already taking its toll, you’re starting to think of Kate in another light.

warning/s: none.

author's note: here’s part two! hope you like it :)

one / three / masterlist / wattpad

Two months later (after the breakup)

It’s hard at first, getting over Hannah. Even though she broke my heart, I still love her. For a while, even after everything. I can’t just fall out of love with her straight away, can I? But it gets easier, mostly because of Kate and also because of time. Time heals all, right? That's what the saying is?

I'd like to think that I'm better now, but the truth is that there's always going to a be a mark left by Hannah. I hate to admit it, but it's true. Sometimes, I get lost in my head, wondering what could have been with her. And when it's not that, I still let it eat up at me – everything she said, everything she made me feel – whenever a chance at moving on or falling in love comes up again. I could be working and some cute girl will flirt with me at the counter, but I can never pursue it. It doesn't feel right to.

I'm scared to put myself out there. I hate that that's how I am now, but it's something I can't control. What if I find someone again and it works out, we fall in love, and then they realise the truth about me? That I'm not enough? And then they leave? I don't think I can go through that again... so for now, I'm happily single. I'm not sure for how long, but it's better this way. Besides, I'm not alone. Kate always likes to remind me of that.

Part of moving on completely is sorting my life out, which includes trying to find a better job than as a barista. And to my luck, I land an interview at a well-established marketing agency which I may or may not really want, but I'm trying not to get my hopes up for.

As I go over my interview notes beforehand, my phone starts to ring and I realise it's a FaceTime call from Kate.

"Hey!" she shouts with a grin when I accept. "Look at you all fancy for your interview!"

I laugh at her enthusiasm, any nerves immediately dispersing when she speaks. "Thanks, nice to know I look the part."

"Of course you do," she assures. "You're gonna be amazing, Y/N. I just wanted to wish you a final good luck."

"What, like you haven't texted me a million times already?" I joke, making her wave her hand dismissively.

"Barely counts until I say it aloud," she defends, making my smile widen with amusement. "Now, remember. Start off strong with a handshake. A firm one so they know you mean business."

"I got it, Kate."

"And always make eye contact with who you're speaking to. No slouching. Raised chin."

"Uh-huh."

"And don't drink too much water or you'll need a pee and that doesn't look good mid-interview."

"Kate," I stop her, trying so hard not to laugh. "I know all of this."

She exhales softly, giving me an apologetic glance. "Right, I know you do. I just– I'm so proud of you for getting the interview. You're gonna be amazing."

"Thank you," I say appreciatively, my insides warming at her words. "I should go now. But thanks for calling. I feel a lot better."

She flashes me a smile. "Anytime. Talk later."

"See you, Kate."

When she hangs up, I let out a heavy breath, trying to push away any nerves or anxiety I have. Kate helped, I won't lie, always knowing the perfect thing to say. Now I just have to nail it.

The interview lasts an hour and I think it went well. I didn't struggle with any of the questions, the vibes were there and, I hate to admit it, but I can finally see myself leaving that damned coffee shop and actually putting my degree to some use!

With a skip in my step, I leave the building where I interviewed with a relieved smile, glad it's over, but that soon transforms to one of surprise when I spot Kate waiting outside. I have to do a double take, unsure if I've noticed correctly, but it's her. Why is she here?

"Y/N!" she calls when she sees me, a grin on her face. She moves forward and hugs me without warning. "Tell me everything. How did it go?!"

I return her hug, still surprised. "I– it went well. I think– okay, sorry, but what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to know how it went," she says with a cheeky smile. "It's important, isn't it?"

I exhale softly, unable to stop the smile spreading on my face. "Kate, that's so cute. But you could've just called."

"It's not the same," she says with a shrug, before linking arms with me and leading the way. "Now. How did it go? You gonna make me wait even longer?!"

I laugh at her impatience. "Right. The interview. Well, like I said, it went well..."

I tell her about how I thought it went, going into detail from when I first walked in the building up until I said my goodbyes. It’s a good feeling being able to tell her, because if she didn't come to see me now, I would've just rang her anyway. Plus, she’s super enthusiastic, wanting to know everything, and I appreciate the interest from someone other than my parents.

"You'll get it, I have no doubts," she says with certainty, after I finish telling her.

"Let's not jinx it," I joke, but also I don't want to get my hopes up just in case.

"Whatever," she mumbles with a playful eye roll.

"I just realised I have no idea where we're going," I say when I notice we've been walking for a while now.

With a chuckle, she says, "Well, I thought you could, maybe, spend the night at the Compound with me. And Tony could get one of his fancy chefs to make us a nice meal, we could hang out with Yelena who's over visiting Natasha. And then stay up on the roof, do some stargazing. If you want to."

I can't help but grin at her words, trying not to laugh. "Sounds like you've already got this planned out."

She's smiling nervously, avoiding looking my way, only making me smile harder because she looks so damn cute when she's not too busy being cocky and mischievous.

"That sounds good with me," I say when she's too embarrassed to speak. Nudging her in the arm slightly, I add, "I don't have work tomorrow, so we can even stay up late."

I've been to the Compound many times, having met the Avengers and finding it awkward to be around them because even though they are superheroes, they're still older strangers whom I have nothing in common with. Yelena Belova, Natasha Romanoff's sister, is someone who Kate is the closest with there (when she visits), so she's the only one who I'm less awkward around. And paying her a visit doesn’t seem so bad.

"Awesome. I'll get us a taxi," she says with a smile. "You can just borrow my stuff. Sound good?"

I nod in agreement, not minding since I've shared clothes with her before, and Tony Stark basically has everything else one can need.

"I don't think I'll ever not be amazed by this place," I admit, looking around at the Compound as we walk through the halls.

Kate laughs from beside me. "Honestly, same. Stark has some serious money. And free time."

"You're pretty rich, too, last time I checked," I tease, giving her a sideways glance.

She rolls her eyes playfully, saying nothing. I smile contently, following her to the lift and eventually the communal floor. It never fails to impress me that Tony Stark has a floor for everyone, including separate floors for communal areas and simply to work out and train. Like, imagine being that rich.

On the way, we bump into a few of the Avengers, whom all greet me kindly and, to my surprise, ask about how my interview went. At first I think it's just a few of them that know, but then I realise Kate has pretty much told everyone.

"I can't believe you told everybody about it," I complain petulantly, embarrassed after the fourth person has asked.

"I'm proud, what can I say?!" she exclaims with a grin, trying not to laugh.

I shoot her an unimpressed glance, to which she merely returns with the grin that seems to be permanently fixed on her face. She doesn't look away, eyes flickering between mine with amusement, and I nudge her in the side before looking away, all of a sudden nervous under her stare. It's the attention, I tell myself. That's all.

Eventually we make our way to the games room to hang out, only to find Yelena and Natasha there, chatting away on the couch. When they spot us, they both get up to greet us.

"Y/N! It's good to see you again," Yelena says with a friendly smile, moving forward to hug me. "Kate Bishop said you were visiting us today."

"Again with the full name, Yelena, c'mon," Kate says with a sigh, making me laugh because I know she hates when Yelena does that.

"Good to see you, too, Yelena," I say, returning her hug and smile.

It's strange to think I'm comfortable around her, considering she's a fully trained assassin just like her sister. But I haven't seen her in action, so it's hard to be intimidated by her when she's only ever been friendly to me. Same with her sister, though that one is particularly amusing because the first time I met the Black Widow, I fangirled way too hard. I'd like to think I'm cool around her now.

"Y/N, good to see you," Natasha says from beside her sister, offering me a smirk and nod.

I can't help but smile embarrassingly wide. "Y–you, too, Miss Natasha." I shake my head, correcting myself. "Miss widow. Black Widow. Ah– Romanoff. Miss–"

"Y/N," Kate cuts me off with a stifled smile. "Chill. It's just Natasha."

I sigh inwardly, cringing because clearly I'm not as calm around the hero as I thought. "Right. Sorry, Natasha."

Natasha's smile widens with amusement. "Cute."

Certain that my face is flushing, I look down at my shoes to distract myself.

"Hey, your interview was today, right?" Yelena asks, patting my arm to get my attention. "Oh, who am I kidding? Kate hasn't shut up about it all week."

Natasha laughs as they both look to Kate. I look up at her and she's scoffing, attempting to deflect terribly.

"I was not going on all week," she says defensively. "I mentioned it a few times."

"To everyone, it seems," I say with narrowed eyes.

"And not just about your interview," Yelena continues, looking at Kate with a grin. "Anything to do with you, Y/N, and you can bet Kate Bishop is–"

"Right!" Kate cuts her off, before looking to me with raised eyebrows. "You up for a round of air hockey?"

I quirk a brow, glancing at the blonde who is laughing to herself now. "Er, sure."

Kate exhales with relief, grabbing my hand and tugging me to the air hockey table in the corner of the room. As much as I know I have the ammo to bully her about whatever Yelena was talking about, I know she seems pretty embarrassed, so I let it slide. For now.

We play a few rounds of air hockey before moving to the arcade machines, even inviting Yelena and Natasha to join us. Never in a million years did I think I'd be playing a zombie shooting game with two assassins and my best friend, but there's a first time for everything. At one point, Natasha leaves for work-related stuff, so it's just the three of us and I find myself seriously enjoying the moment with them. It's even cuter seeing Yelena and Kate getting along. I knew Kate had friends at work, but I always worried for her safety, Avengers or no Avengers. It's reassuring to see how much Yelena cares for her and has her back.

"Piggy back time," I say, making a spinning motion with my hand at Kate.

She sighs dramatically before turning and lowering herself to give me room. I jump up and she catches me, holding me upright on her back by my legs. I smile to myself as I wrap my arms around her neck to balance.

"Is this a common thing between you two?" Yelena asks with a suppressed laugh, pointing a finger between the two of us.

"Sometimes," I say with a shrug. "She loves me."

"Yeah, yeah...," Kate mumbles beneath me, and I don't have to see her face to know she's smiling all the same.

After saying our goodbyes to Yelena, Kate speeds down the hallway with me on her back before we both collapse into the lift in fits of laughter.

"One day I'm gonna be too heavy for you to carry, you know that right?" I says between my laughter as the doors close and she hits the button to her floor on the panel.

"Not if I keep working out," she says with an overly confident smile, making me roll my eyes playfully and look the other way, face stupidly heating up.

When we arrive on her floor, she leads me to her bedroom which is bigger than my whole apartment quite frankly. It's not as Kate-ified as I expect, especially considering she's been living here for a while now, but I guess that's down to the fact that she still takes turns staying here, at her apartment and at her mum's place.

"These should fit you," she says, suddenly throwing some clothes into my face.

"Gee, thanks," I say with sarcasm, ripping the clothes from my face. Looking at them, I begin to hold them up to get a better look. "Is this Avengers merch?"

"What? No!"

A smile spreads across my face as I glance from the monogrammed joggers and tee shirt to her. "It literally has the Avengers logo on them. It's merch."

She gets unnecessarily worked up and raises her brows with disbelief. "What? How would that even work? It's official! The real stuff because I'm an Avenger!"

"Yeah, official merch," I tease, standing up from her bed.

She scoffs. "It's official."

I laugh at her pouty expression. "Whatever you say."

"Just get ready," she says before pointing to the ensuite bathroom. "We're gonna eat after."

"Aye aye, captain." I salute her playfully before going to the bathroom to get changed into something more comfortable.

Soon after we both get ready, Kate leads to me the kitchen where she wasn't kidding about Tony's fancy chefs making us dinner. And it's not just any dinner – it's all my favourites.

"If I ever had any doubts that you were my soulmate, Kate Bishop, they have all been squashed," I say with a smile so wide it hurts. "How did you remember all of my favourite foods?"

Kate shrugs bashfully, pocketing her hands and avoiding my eyes. I'm definitely not mistaken when I see her cheeks dusting pink and I begin to laugh at how cute she is when she's nervous. Immediately pulling her into a hug, I squeeze her tight, hoping she knows how grateful I am.

"Okay, time to eat," I say excitedly, grabbing her hand and tugging her to the table where everything is being finished laid out.

"I think I'm bloated."

Kate snickers opposite me. "Well, nobody told you to have the leftover garlic bread."

"It's garlic bread," I say, as if it's self-explanatory, which it is because garlic bread is beautiful. "And it was leftover for a reason, wasn't it?"

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head with amusement. Meanwhile, I lean back in my seat and sigh contently, definitely feeling stuffed but overwhelmingly happy. Good food does that, what can I say?

"Let me know if I have to carve you out of your pants first or if we can go straight up to the roof."

"Not funny."

She's biting her lips to suppress a grin. "Kind of is. I'm hilarious."

"Hilarious-looking maybe, sure."

She lifts a brow challengingly, blue eyes twinkling with mischief. I don't have it in me to bicker right now, since I'm currently trying to stretch my pants to make space for the extra garlic bread, so I flip her off and look away. She laughs, standing up breezily.

"Let's go walk off that extra garlic bread first, loser," she says, holding out her hand and wiggling her fingers.

Reluctantly, I reach for her hand, letting her pull me up and letting out a deep groan as she does. We both grab a jacket and pull on our shoes before taking a walk around the Compound to get some fresh air.

It's quiet as we do, peaceful since we're just outside the city so there's no usual background hum of New York. It's strange, since I'm used to hearing that always, but it's also calming. Especially since Kate is right here with me. Though, that does mean it's easier to get stuck in my own head more than usual.

"D'you think they'll call me back?" I ask randomly, unable to keep it in.

Kate glances at me as we walk. "Who? The interviewers?"

I hum, looking to her patiently.

She nods like it's the easiest, most obvious answer. "Of course. Not even in a biased way. I've seen you in a professional context. They'd be insane not to hire you."

I raise an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. "When have you ever seen me in a professional context?"

She cracks a smile. "Okay, maybe not entirely. But at work, when you're talking to customers and your colleagues and stuff, that's pretty professional."

I roll my eyes. "That's not the same, Kate."

"You're overthinking it," she says, nudging me with her shoulder to make me look at her again. Her expression is gentle as she adds, "If they don't call, you keep applying for more. You don't give up. The right job will fall into place."

I exhale softly. "Yeah, I guess you're right..."

Just before I can get lost in my own head again, Kate's hand slips into mine, pulling me out of it. She squeezes, thumb caressing the back of my hand comfortingly. I look up, but she lets go as swiftly as she grabbed it, not as fazed as I. Is her hand not full of tingles, too?

When I no longer feel like I'm going to burst out of my pants, Kate and I go back inside and get the lift to the roof, but not before she grabs two blankets and two pillows for us. When we reach the top, I find myself getting distracted by the view of the city in the distance and the stars all twinkling in the sky. I've been here before, yet I'm always impressed.

"You gonna keep straining your neck looking up like that or join me over here?" Kate's voice grabs my attention, and I spin around to see her sitting on the blanket she's laid out.

"Someone's impatient," I joke, jogging over to her.

I get comfortable, laying down next to her on the pillows and tugging the other blanket over the top of us to keep in some warmth.

"It's still quite cold up here, isn't it?" she asks after a moment of silence, and I laugh because that's exactly what I'm thinking.

"Just a little," I agree with amusement, before moving closer to her to feel some body heat. "But it's okay. Doesn't beat the view."

"I believe I'm over here," she says teasingly, and I tear my gaze from the sky and to her, only to see her wiggling her brows stupidly.

"Who's the loser now?" I mumble, trying to fight the smile from my lips as I look back up at the sky.

Just when I think I'm relaxed, Kate decides to speak up again.

"You know, when we do this, I always think of that scene from Shrek."

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying my very damn hardest not to give in and laugh at her randomness.

"The one with Donkey and Shrek looking at the stars and then Shrek always points out the different ogres," she continues, and I massage the point between my eyes as I contain the urge to laugh.

"Kate, I love you, but what the fuck?"

"That's what happens!" she defends, and I finally look to her to see her staring back at me like she's completely sane.

"Okay, yes, you're right," I decide, rolling my eyes and looking back up, not having the effort to figure out the rare specimen that's Kate Bishop.

Pulling up the blanket closer to my chest, I turn slightly so I'm leaning on Kate's shoulder, getting even more comfortable. God, it's so beautiful out tonight. A little cloudy, leaving a dark haze over the night sky, but still clear enough to make out the stars twinkling lightyears away. It's so easy to get lost in it all, forgetting about my day and any of my worries. Kate really knows how to make everything better.

"Stark has pretty good taste in Compounds," I say lightheartedly. "It's so nice out here. Away from the city."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," Kate jokes. "You're a New Yorker through and through."

I chuckle quietly. "Yeah, but you can't get this in the city. It's a nice break sometimes."

She hums in agreement, and I feel her head rest against mine as she sighs contently. "It is... I prefer it here more than I do back home sometimes."

I suck on my lower lip when I think about her situation, how much she clashes with her mum and how it's only getting worse lately. She never talks about it and I never want to push her, but it still hurts knowing I can't do anything to make her feel better. Not completely.

"The only downside is that it's too far from you," she continues, and that's when I scoff quietly in response, making her snicker.

"Kate."

"Seriously," she says, and I don't hear an ounce of insincerity in her voice despite how playful she sounds. "Why do you think I keep going back to my apartment?" Before I can think to answer, she nudges me in the shoulder with hers. "It's close to yours."

I raise my eyebrows, surprised and also convinced that she's lying to make me feel special or something. But when I pull away to look at her properly, she's already staring at me with a soft smile and a piercing gaze. I don't mean to feel a thrum in my chest at the sight, but it's impossible not to. I've never really paid attention to how beautiful Kate could be. And not in the physical sense, but in everything she did. In every effort she makes with me. In every reassuring glance she's sent my way. In every plan she's ever made to make my day better.

Of course, her smile right now is beautiful, too, matching her bright blue eyes which are as bright as the blanket of stars above us, the ones she should be staring at but isn't because she's staring at me instead. A stare that is making me feel gooey inside and warm all of a sudden. Why am I suddenly attracted to Kate – my best friend Kate – right now?

Backing up inconspicuously, I focus my eyes on the sky once more, trying not to overthink whatever that just was. Because it was nothing. It's Kate. It's my Kate. Not somebody I've thought about in a different way. It's Kate.

"So, I've got a mission coming up soon," Kate says, as if nothing happened, which I have to keep telling myself nothing did. "I'm pretty excited."

I try to push away my confusion and enjoy the moment like it should be. "Oh, really? What is it?"

"Top secret," she jokes, and I blink when I realise what she said.

I kick her under the blanket gently, making her laugh.

"I don't actually know the specifics," she admits, and all she does is move a little closer to me, our arms rubbing against one another, but my body feels like it's on fire. "I'm meeting with the others at the end of the week to discuss."

"Be careful," I warn her, worried as I think about the potential danger she could get into. She's about to speak, but I instantly shoot her a glance. "And don't say you're always careful because you're not. Look at you now? Littered with cuts and scrapes."

Unfazed, she smirks sloppily. "Would I be me if I wasn't?"

I roll my eyes. "Still."

"Okay, mom, I'll be careful," she teases, but I don't let it faze me because I just want her to be okay.

"Good. You better, Kate."

She mumbles under her breath but I ignore it and resort to kicking her gently once more.

The rest of the evening is as good as our afternoon we've shared together, and I try very hard to keep my previous split second thought about her out of my mind. It doesn't return for the rest of the night and I certainly don't intend for it to ever.

Until it does.

"We can't not wear what she bought us, Kate, that's very disrespectful," I say nervously when Kate shoots me an unimpressed glance.

"What's disrespectful is forcing me to go to this boring event in the first place," Kate complains before groaning and laying down on her bed. "The only nice thing my mom has done is let me bring you as my plus one. And even then, she only said yes because then I can't back out."

"I believe her words were to keep you in line," I correct, and when Kate looks to me with a glare, I try not to laugh. "Look, it'll be fun. Think about it like this. Free food. You can hang out with me. Dessert. It'll be great!"

Letting out a groan, Kate covers her face with her hands dramatically. Personally, I don't think it's a big deal. Kate's mum wants her to attend some important work event, a formal one that Kate definitely needs to be on her best behaviour for, and she said I can come, too. It's not my sort of thing, but if it means I can hang out with Kate, I don't mind. The only thing is, she's already bought Kate and I outfits so we can fit in (her words, not mine), but Kate refuses to listen to her mother – no surprise there.

"I have to get to work," I say after realising the time. Standing up, I give Kate a knowing look. "Wear the damn dress, Kate. The last thing I need is to annoy your mother because you didn't listen to her and, somehow, to me."

"Yeah, yeah..."

Patting her on the leg, I smile her way even though she's still sulking in her hands. "Catch you later."

[musette22]

Rockin' and Rollin'

Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes (Stucky), 3k

A/N: So the other day, this amazing video made the rounds on Tumblr. Since everyone was going 'Who's writing a fic?!', I wrote a fic 😌 It's short, silly and completely self indulgent, and I hope you enjoy

(you may be asking yourselves, minnie, are you ever going to write anything other than Steve and Bucky getting it on in front of the other Avengers ever again? and my reply would be: probably not because I just love it too goddamn much. sorry)

Beta'd by my boo @rainbowsandcoconut, who is in fact the most wonderful 💗

*****************

Another day, another successful mission.

Bucky couldn’t say what day it is exactly, or even what time, but it’s dark outside and they’re somewhere in Texas. At least, he thinks it’s Texas. Could be Arkansas, now that he thinks about it, not that it matters. What matters is that they stopped another megalomaniac, averted another catastrophe, and none of them is seriously hurt. Everyone is in need of a drink, though.

By some unspoken agreement, they find the closest dive bar that looks mostly empty. The dimly lit place they end up in smells like stale beer and sweat and a few other things Bucky chooses not to examine too closely, but then again, he probably doesn’t smell much better right now. Avengers or not, in their current state they’d most likely be turned away anywhere else. The few other patrons in this particular bar seem too intoxicated to care, or even to recognize them, or maybe it’s that famous Southern hospitality. Whatever it is, it suits Bucky fine. He’s doing much better these days, but he’s still not overly fond of getting mobbed.

Leaning back against the bar while Steve orders them a drink, Bucky looks around, subconsciously scanning the place for danger and finding none, except maybe for a few suspicious stains on the pool table.

Bucky accepts the drink Steve hands him with a grateful smile, taking a long pull of the cold beer as he watches Steve joke around with Bruce and Sam. He’d never admit it out loud, least of all to Sam himself, but secretly, Bucky is glad to have Sam on the team. Not only is he the only one among them with a lick of common sense, he’s also a true friend to Steve. Sam had been a friend to Steve when Bucky was unable to be one himself, and for that, Bucky will always be grateful.

A commotion to his right shakes Bucky out of his reverie, making him tear his eyes away from Steve to find Tony looking what can only be described as alarmingly excited. He’s all but wringing his hands, his gleaming eyes fixed on the mechanical bull in the center of the room, which Bucky had spotted when they entered the bar and forgotten about just as quickly.

“Well, well, well,” Tony drawls, “what have we here? Is that a mechanical bull I spy? My, oh my. You ever seen one of those before, Capsicle?”

Steve turns, following Tony’s gaze. He frowns. “Can’t say that I have.”

Bucky is briefly surprised, before he remembers those things didn’t exist back in their day, and Steve has never been one for bar hopping, whether in the previous century or this one. Why Bucky himself is familiar with the contraption, he can’t say, but then it’s like that with a lot of things these days. Fortunately, the fact that he can’t connect a specific memory to the information his brain provides him with doesn’t unsettle him nearly as much as it used to.

Bucky watches with low-key amusement as Tony starts goading Steve, daring him to get up on the bull – no doubt because he’s already mentally planning a line of T-shirts with Steve’s photo and a slogan that would probably say something classy like ‘Save a horse, ride a Captain’.

Now there’s a thought, Bucky thinks – and out of the blue, his brain supplies him with a devious little plan of its own.

“Fine,” Steve is saying, squaring his shoulders and turning to Clint, “hold my beer.”

But before Steve can go anywhere, Bucky steps forward, putting a hand on Steve’s arm to stop him. “I don’t know about this, Steve,” he says, making his brow pull together in faux-concern. “What if you get hurt?”

“Oh, come on,” Tony protests immediately. “He’s Captain America, for Christ’s sake. He’s punched a thousand Nazis, probably killed dinosaurs with his bare hands. I think he can handle a measly mechanical bull, don’t you?”

Steve gives Bucky’s hand a brief squeeze. “I’ll be fine, Buck.”

Bucky resists the urge to roll his eyes. Steve may be one of the most brilliant tactical minds of his generation, but sometimes he's still surprisingly slow on the uptake.

Natasha’s catches Bucky’s eye over Steve’s shoulder, the hint of a smirk on her lips telling him she’s onto him. It doesn’t surprise him in the slightest. Of course Natasha knows he and Steve are together, because Natasha knows everything. The same can’t be said for rest of the team, however, with the possible exception of Sam. It’s not that they're keeping their relationship a secret, per se, it’s just that neither of them is big on talking about their feelings to anyone but each other. And because of the time Steve and Bucky grew up in and the years they spent in the army actively hiding their relationship, they’re used to acting like best friends in public, and nothing more. They’ve discussed it, though, considered laying it all out in the open, so Bucky knows Steve isn’t opposed to the rest of the team knowing.

“I agree with Barnes,” Natasha announces, causing Tony to throw her a surprised look. “I think he should accompany Steve. I don’t know about you guys, but I’d rather not have to explain to Fury why Cap ended up in the ER on our watch.” She shoots Steve a barely perceptible wink, Steve’s eyes widening infinitesimally as he catches on.

“Yes,” Bucky nods gravely, “I, too, think it would be best if I joined him. Come on, Rogers.”

With a hand at the small of Steve’s back, Bucky leads him towards the bull in the center of the room. He effortlessly hoists himself into the saddle, holding out a hand to Steve, who raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t otherwise question it. Grabbing Bucky’s hand, Steve lets himself be pulled up onto the bull as well, humming appreciatively as Bucky immediately molds himself to his back and hooks his chin over Steve’s shoulder. They’re already plastered together from hip to shoulder, and yet Bucky shuffles forward a little further, just to make sure he’s eliminated any room for Jesus. Jesus can go find some other hot guy on a mechanical bull; this one’s his.

“Barnes!” Natasha calls from across the room.

When Bucky turns to look at her, it’s just in time to catch the cowboy hat she throws his way. Lord knows where she got it, but Bucky doesn’t particularly care. He grins, placing the hat on his head and tipping it in Nat’s direction.

“Ready?” Tony asks gleefully, and before either of them can reply, the bull hums to life underneath them.

Bucky lips brush the shell of Steve’s ear as he murmurs, “Just follow my lead.”

Steve gives a small nod.

It starts off slow, just rocking back and forth, not at all in time with the awful country music that’s blaring from the speakers. For something to do with their hands, Steve hooks his thumbs into the belt loops of his suit, while Bucky puts his hands on Steve’s slim hips, just resting them there. He lets himself be led by the lazy, undulating rhythm of the bull, deliberately pressing closer against Steve with every roll of his hips. Somewhere near the bar, someone whistles. Bucky suppresses a smirk. You ain’t seen nothing yet, he thinks, with no small amount of gleeful anticipation.

When the bull speeds up a notch, Bucky reaches up to grab the rope that’s hanging over their heads. He pulls himself up, twisting himself almost sensually before landing back in the saddle, but this time facing Steve.

He winks. “Hey there, handsome." To his delight, Steve’s cheeks go a little pink. “What’s a guy like you doin’ in a dive like this?”

“Just along for the ride, apparently,” Steve smiles, looking up at Bucky through his lashes.

And goddamn – Bucky knows Steve better than he knows himself, quite literally. He’s seen him in every possible state, had him in every possible way, but that coy little look that Steve is giving him through those obscenely long lashes still manages to set Bucky’s pulse racing like nothing else.

Something of which Steve is very well aware, judging by the hint of a smirk he’s got tucked away in the corner of that sinful mouth.

There’s no official rule that says they can’t hold on to the bull as far as Bucky knows, nor is there any danger of this thing throwing them off, but Bucky still grabs Steve’s waist as if to steady himself, fingers digging into flesh. His metal hand is gripping hard enough to leave bruises, but Bucky knows Steve likes it that way, so he doesn't let up. Sure enough, Steve makes an appreciative sound, locking eyes with Bucky and not looking away as they keep rocking back and forth.

They’re so close that Bucky can smell Steve every time the rhythm makes him lean into him; fresh sweat and sunshine and that awful three-in-one shampoo that Bucky can’t help but have a Pavlovian response to these days. He feels the heat radiating off of Steve even through their clothes, and despite their surroundings and the fact that they’re being watched by god knows how many people, Bucky can feel himself start to harden in his tac pants. Although, if he’s being honest with himself, the fact that they’re being watched might actually be helping in this case.

Alright, so Bucky’s a little excited to finally get to show Steve off, to show the world that this beautiful man in his lap is all his, and always has been. After everything they’ve been through, Bucky thinks he deserves that much.  

Smoothing his hands up Steve’s ribs, Bucky gives his arms a nudge, indicating that he wants Steve to lift them and put them around Bucky’s neck. Steve obliges instantly, which causes more wolf whistling from the sidelines. Probably Nat. Maybe Sam. Bucky spares a fleeting thought for the look that must be on Tony’s face right now, but however satisfying it would no doubt be to see it, watching the way Steve’s eyes darken as they move together to the suggestive sway of the bull is infinitely more enthralling.

Bucky wraps his own arms, metal and flesh, around Steve’s torso and pulls him closer, drawing their bodies flush together. It’s a shame they’re both wearing Kevlar; Bucky knows how much better it feels when it’s skin to skin, but alas, this will have to do for now. Moving his hands to the front of Steve’s torso, he slides them up his chest, feeling the swell of Steve’s pecs beneath the course material. He can’t help getting a little squeeze in, just the once, but it’s enough to make Steve’s breath hitch.

God, Bucky loves that sound. For as long as he can remember, Steve’s always loved getting his chest played with. It was true even when he was a just a bony slip of a thing with no chest to speak of, and ever since he went and got himself a rack that put even the chorus girls back in the war to shame, it’s just gotten worse. It gets him real hot, real fast, and as Bucky found out very quickly, anything that gets Steve hot gets Bucky hot, too. Bucky has spent literal hours worshipping Steve’s chest, kneading the firm muscle, sucking on the flesh to leave marks and scraping his teeth over those pretty pink nipples until they’re swollen and raw. Judging by the look in Steve’s eyes right now, he’s recalling the same memories.

Smirking, Bucky puts his left hand on Steve’s chest and pushes, just lightly. Steve takes the hint, leaning backwards until he’s lying flat on his back with his arms loosely at his sides, holding on by the sheer strength of his thighs and abs alone. Raising himself up, Bucky splays his hands on Steve’s chest and hovers over him. Like this, his crotch is positioned directly above Steve’s, and as he moves with the undulating movements of the bull, Bucky’s rolls his hips against Steve’s – riding him. It’s a filthy move, chock-full of innuendo and dripping with suggestion. There’s no way anyone could mistake this for anything innocent anymore at this point, especially because Bucky can feel that below him, Steve is hard. Since Steve is not exactly small, he’s pretty sure everyone else is getting an eyeful, too. It makes Bucky want to growl, makes him feel equal parts possessive and smug.

As they keep rocking and rolling, Steve looks up at him with a heavy-lidded, dark eyes, greedily taking in Bucky’s body above him. Bucky feels it like a physical a caress, the way Steve’s appreciative gaze brushes his shoulders and chest, his waist and thighs, shivering at the weight of it when it finally lands on the bulge in his pants and lingers there.

Steve, for his part – arms above his head, back arched and tits sticking out – looks like an angel, fallen straight from heaven.

Jesus, Bucky marvels, for what’s probably the thousandth time since he remembered who they were to each other, before everything. How did I get so lucky?

Grabbing the collar of Steve’s shirt, Bucky yanks him upright so that their chests are pressed together, their faces so close that they have to go a little cross-eyed to continue looking at each other.

“Christ, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs, gaze dropping to Steve’s mouth. His fingertips follow, questioningly brushing Steve’s plump lips. “The things you do to me, I swear.”

“Me? What'd I do?” Steve innocently blinks his pretty, blue eyes at him, right before he sucks Bucky’s fingers into his mouth.

All of Bucky’s blood rushes south in a split-second.  He curses, blowing out a harsh breath as he tries to compose himself. He has to regain some control of the situation here, or this could get embarrassing fast.

Holding on to Steve’s waist with his right hand, Bucky reaches up with his left to grab the cowboy hat off his own head, before placing it firmly on Steve’s. When he leans back to assess the effect, he’s unsurprised to find that Steve looks positively edible. He always looks good, of course – but here, like this, with his flushed cheeks and eyes that shine with the sort of exhilaration that only comes from doing something just a little bit reckless, Steve is just about the most stunning creature Bucky’s ever laid eyes on.

“Suits ya,” Bucky says gruffly, a little breathless with it.  

Leaning forward, into Bucky’s space, Steve murmurs, “Howdy, partner.”

It’s objectively a terrible line, but Bucky has learned a long ago that there’s nothing Steve can do that will turn him off.

There’s a moment of charged anticipation, just a beat of terrible country music, a heavy thump of Bucky’s lovesick heart, and then Steve’s lips are on his, warm and soft and like a revelation, even after all this time.

Steve makes a small sound, almost a moan, which Bucky rewards him for by licking into his mouth. Steve moans for real at that, giving back as good as he gets. One hand fists in Bucky’s hair while the other one paws at his waist, trying to pull him impossible closer. They kiss, open-mouthed and hot and far too uninhibited for a public location like this one. But then again, Bucky thinks they may have crossed that line a while ago. Probably when they started dry humping each other.

Still, before things can get truly out of hand, Bucky makes himself pull back. “How about we get out of here, huh?” he breathes against Steve’s slick lips. “I ain’t done with you yet, but those guys over there have probably seen enough.”

Once the words filter through Steve’s lust-filled daze, his eyes flick over towards the bar for a second. Briefly, Bucky wonders if Steve regrets letting go like this in front of the others. After all, most of the team, most of the world, has only ever known Steve as the good Captain; noble and righteous and stoic, not to mention straight as an arrow. This little show they just put on is a far cry from that.

But when Steve’s eyes turn back to Bucky’s, they’re dancing with mischief. The sight takes Bucky’s breath away, transporting him back to a time long ago, to the afternoon when Steve grabbed his hand and dragged him under the boardwalk at Coney Island in broad daylight.

“Don’t care,” Steve tells him. “Let them look.”

Bucky groans, pressing his forehead to Steve’s. He kisses him again, deep and hungry. "You say that now, but we both know you’re gonna regret it once you stop being horny. ‘Sides, we’re in a bar, remember? Pretty sure public indecency is still illegal.”

“Never stopped us before.”

Bucky snorts, shaking his head fondly. “Punk. Alright, how about a compromise? Wanna go find some dingy alley to defile, just like old times?”

“Boy, you’re a real sweet talker, aren't you, Buck?”

“Shut up.” Bucky drops a hand to Steve’s crotch, giving him a quick squeeze. “Don’t pretend it's not working, sweetheart.”

Steve sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh, it’s working alright.”

Bucky grins, then braces himself on Steve’s thighs and gracefully hops off of the bull. It’s full-on bucking by this point, though Bucky had been too preoccupied to notice. Steve follows soon after, steadying himself by grabbing Bucky’s metal hand as they make their way towards the others, heading for the exit.

“Thanks for the show, boys,” Natasha remarks as they pass by. Lightning fast, she plucks the hat off Steve’s head and deposits it on Clint’s.

Sam hums thoughtfully. “Not to encourage this sort of deprived behavior, but you all should seriously consider a career change. You’d make so much money if you turned to stripping, I’m telling you.”

There’s a whimpering sound from somewhere near the bar, and when Bucky glances over, it’s to see Tony thump his forehead against the countertop repeatedly. Bruce, who’s standing next to him, is patting his back, murmuring soothing words.

Bucky almost feels guilty. Almost.

“Eh, he’ll be fine,” Natasha says, flicking her wrist. “I mean, you made him question everything he ever thought he knew, but he did ask for it, so.” Shoving Bucky’s shoulder, she adds, “Now get out of here, before you poke someone’s eye out.”

Despite his earlier bravado, Steve starts spluttering, so Bucky swoops in and saves him by putting an arm around his waist, leading him towards the exit.

Over his shoulder, Bucky calls, “Enjoy your night, guys. We sure as hell will.”

“Fuck you,” Tony replies empathically, his voice breaking on the second syllable.

“Language,” Steve tuts, and just for that, Bucky has to kiss him again.

******************

Read on AO3

[endlesslystarlitskies]

Lost and Found- Part 14

A/N: Okay, only two chapters left after this! Thank you to everyone who has been following along and enjoying this story! 

Genre: Horror, Action, Adventure, Romance, Slow-Burn,  

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Named Reader (Named but not Described)

Summary: Ella was one of the missing hikers who was kidnapped by the villagers. She narrowly escaped being sacrificed, but her friends weren’t so lucky. Managing to survive out in the woods with her previous skills and knowledge, she runs into Leon, and that meeting begins the longest, most dangerous adventure of her life as she tries to help him save the girl she saw being taken into the church. What will happen along the way? Only one way to find out.  

Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore, Death, Murder, Monsters, Suicidal ideations mentioned

Word Count: 4,012

Part 13 Part 15  Story Masterlist

xXx

Walking through the doors, the two made their way further into the building, before turning a corner and immediately stopping. 

“Are those. . .body bags?” She questioned, having not expected that in the slightest. 

“Looks like it.” Leon answered, and the two looked at each other. 

Both knew that there was no way they were just body bags. Something was going to fall out of them. Leon pulled out his rifle, looking through the bioscope to see if he could see inside. 

“There is a Regenerator inside that one.” He spoke in a low voice, Ella freezing. Why did it have to be one of those things? Out of everything. She would even take the spider-like parasites over the regenerators. But of course, she rarely got what she wanted here. 

Leon gestured for them to move forward, going past the empty one but being careful not to jostle it with the others. They also kept quiet, as they didn’t know if any sound would trigger the things inside. Fortunately, there weren’t many body bags, Leon not seeing any more Regenerators as they came up on one of those wheels. 

“Easy enough.” Leon murmured, and Ella froze, before glaring at him. 

“Wow, being good-looking and athletic really got you far in life, didn’t it?” She was mostly joking, that being clear in her voice. She knew Leon’s tendency to spout the most cliched lines that were full of foreshadowing really wouldn’t change whatever was beyond that door, but he might as well say “Well at least things couldn’t get any worse” while he was at it. 

Leon was confused for a moment, before realization crossed his features, and he let out a breath through his nose. It was a habit he hadn’t realized he had until Ella pointed it out the first time. He didn’t argue her jab, just accepting it as he knew he had no argument.  

Getting the door open, they were met with another room full of body bags, and Ella sighed.

“Yeah, this checks out.” She murmured, before the door slamming shut behind them made her jump as she stepped closer to Leon without thinking, her hand grabbing his arm. The two were silent, waiting to make sure no regenerators popped out of the body bags at the noise.  Once they were in the clear, Ella turned to Leon to see him looking at her in amusement, and it was then she realized how close she had gotten to him, her shoulder pressed into his and her hand holding onto his arm. She quickly let go.  “Oh, shut up. These things give me the creeps and unlike you I don’t have a fancy scope to fight them.” She rolled her eyes as she looked away from him, silently cursing the heat at her cheeks. Fortunately, he didn’t comment on it further, instead looking into the bioscope to see where the regenerators were. 

“There’s one ahead, to the left.” He gestured to the specific body bag, and Ella nodded. At least the door had told them that they probably didn’t have to worry about loud sounds, though they would still be careful. They moved ahead, Ella right behind Leon as she followed his lead around the bags, making sure to stay away from the one with the regenerator in it. However, just as Ella passed it, it moved on its own, wiggling around and knocking into other bags. Before she could even react, she was being tugged away from it, stumbling slightly as Leon pulled her behind him. The creature didn’t come out of the bag, seeming to have just twitched a bit, and Ella let out a breath of relief.

“See? I’m not the only jumpy one.” She teased, grinning at the look of mild exasperation she received. He was going to have to learn that she would always have the last laugh. 

It didn’t take long for them to learn that they had to use another wheel, and the good news was that it was just on the other side of the bars they had come across. The bad news was there was a regenerator in one of the many body bags in the small space. They were closer together than the others, which made getting to the wheel without bumping into the bag difficult. 

Ella looked at the set up closely. She was good at maneuvering around enclosed spaces, as she had to be when she was sneaking around in the woods and village after almost getting caught. 

“I can get to it.” She told Leon as she removed her shotgun, handing it to him so she wouldn’t have to worry about it hitting one of the bags. 

“No, it’s too dangerous.” Leon protested, and Ella’s brows furrowed, having not expected him to be against it.

“So? We need to get to that wheel. Do you have a better idea?” Leon was good at being stealthy, but they both knew he wasn’t great at not taking up space, and Ella had a higher chance of successfully avoiding the body back with the regenerator in it. 

“Yeah, I’ll alert it, and kill it. Then we don’t have to worry about it.” He stated it like it was the most obvious next option, and Ella looked at him in disbelief. 

“That’s a terrible plan! It wastes bullets and puts you in unnecessary danger! Not to mention you risk alerting the other regenerator. Just let me go.” She pointed out the plan’s obvious flaws, but Leon wasn’t having it.  

“And put you in unnecessary danger?” He argued back, and Ella rolled her eyes as she leaned against the bars, quickly realizing this was going to take a minute. She liked that Leon was so protective, but she didn’t like it when it was working against her. She knew he could be as stubborn as her, so she was very purposefully beside the opening to the small room with the wheel, contemplating whether to just move inside and save some time. 

“My plan includes the least amount of danger. Especially if it’s one of those spiky ones. It’s the best idea and you know it.” He was still against it, his disapproval clear as he raised his right hand, grabbing one of the metal bars behind her and blocking off her easy access to the room. He knew her well by now. 

“If it comes out while you’re in there, you could easily get trapped, and hurt.” He tried, but Ella just crossed her arms over her chest. 

“I appreciate your concern for my well being, but I think I’ll manage.” She replied stubbornly. 

“It’s one of those doors that doesn’t stay open. What are you going to do when you let go of the wheel?” He tried to make her see that this plan wasn’t worth it, but Ella just shrugged. 

“By that point I’ll just run out and we’ll get behind the door. It’s slow, so it’ll get trapped inside, and we won’t have to worry about it.” Leon liked that even less, that being apparent in his expression, and Ella sighed. “It’s the best and fastest plan.”

“Ella-” 

“Leon.” She cut him off, and the two were then staring each other down, neither willing to relent. There was tension in the air that you could cut with a knife. “Just because you kissed me doesn’t mean your concern for my safety is going to stop me from doing my part in this.” He didn’t falter.

“I thought your part in this was making sure Ashley gets home?” 

“Yeah well, watching over you was added to that a long time ago.” 

“I’m a trained agent. You don’t have to watch over me.” 

“Yes I do, because you like to run into dangerous situations with no regard for your own well-being, which is something you got upset with me for doing.” They were just going back and forth.

“It’s not the same-” 

“Yes, it is.” They once again were at a stalemate, and Ella quickly realized this was getting them nowhere, it being time to try something else. “We don’t have time for this.” She breathed, putting a hand to her head for a moment as she feigned contemplation. “Fine, you win. Just-” She looked at him, standing up straight. The action moved her closer to Leon, as he had been leaning forward due to grabbing the bar. Ella raised her left hand, hooking it around his bicep as she looked into his blue eyes. “Be careful, okay?” Her voice was lowered, and for added measure, her free hand came up to rest on the top body armor, her fingers brushing against his chest near his heart. 

Leon was still looking into her eyes, and now that Ella knew he felt something for her, she could see the effect she had on him. Good. It was working perfectly then. Ella leaned in just the slightest bit, not missing the way Leon’s chest stopped rising and falling as his breath caught. It was the subtle things with him.

Ella was very tempted to kiss him again, but she had a plan to enact. In the next moment, she ducked under his arm, moving into the small room and grabbing a body bag she knew was empty. He couldn’t stop her now. She looked at Leon, who was frowning and clearly annoyed as he watched her. 

“Sorry, but my plan is better.” She winked, before focusing on getting to the wheel. She knew which bag the regenerator was in, and it was one of the closer ones to the wheel. It wasn’t so close that this was too difficult, though, and it wasn’t long before she got to the contraption, wasting no time as she began to turn it. It was then that the body bag twitched, knocking into another bag, and Ella froze as she leaned against the wheel as much as she possibly could, keeping herself from touching the bag that swung near her. Leon had already had his gun out and ready, and he tensed, bringing up the rifle in case the thing fell out. 

It didn’t, and Ella let out a breath, before finishing the full turn, holding it there as she looked to Leon. 

“Are you ready?” She asked him, and the blonde nodded, knowing there was no going back even if he hated this part. “Okay. Three, two, one-” She let it go, before turning and moving past the body bags quickly. It took only a moment for the one with the regenerator in it to be jostled, the disgusting thing falling right out the bottom. Ella didn’t waste a moment as she got out of the small space, Leon stepping to the side to make sure she was in front of him before following her out the door. The thing screeched, but just as its shadow creeped up on the floor in front of the door, it slammed shut.

It was silent for a few moments, as if they both were making sure it wouldn’t find a way to follow, before Ella grinned up at Leon, very clearly proud of herself. 

“Told you.” She couldn’t help herself, and Leon looked at her in light annoyance. 

“You’re pushing your luck.” He shook his head as he put his rifle back, before holding her shotgun out to her. She stepped forward, taking it from him. 

“Maybe, but it worked, didn’t it?” She threw his words back at him, referencing both her plan, and her trick, and he fixed her with an unamused look as he took a deep breath through his nose. She could see the small smile pulling at the edges of his lips, however, and she knew he wasn’t really upset with her. If anything, he was impressed with what she did, and she found her grin turning into a smile of her own.

xXx

As they walked through the next door, Ella was greeted by the Merchant. 

“Ah, I can always count on you to be there when I need you.” She smiled, though she was running low on treasures and pesetas. She had enough to stock up on ammo, so that was all she could ask for. 

“You still have what I gave you, right stranger?” Ella had been reloading her shotgun, looking up at the question the Merchant asked Leon.

“Yeah. You wanna tell me what it’s for now?” Leon responded, Ella’s brows furrowing. 

“I wish I could, but if you want to keep seeing my pretty face, I gotta be careful not to make too many waves.” What did that mean? 

“Uh, either of you wanna clue me in on what you’re talking about?” Ella asked curiously, but the Merchant just laughed. 

“Nothing you need to worry about Miss. Just a gift from me to him.” She didn’t believe that for a second. However, she had learned that if the Merchant didn’t want to tell them something, he wouldn’t tell them, so she reluctantly let it go.

As they walked on ahead, Ella looked to Leon, hoping he would give her more answers. Seeing her look, he shrugged lightly. 

“Honestly I’m not sure what it is myself.” Was all she got out of him. She believed him, but she wished he would at least show her. Apparently the thought didn’t even cross his mind.

xXx

They had to go through some more infected, but eventually, and finally, they came across the temple. Getting the doors open, they ascended more steps, before a stone altar came into view. Ella was more concerned with who was on it. 

“Ashley!” She and Leon both ran forward, Leon reaching for her before he suddenly came to a halt. The black veins became more apparent as Saddler took control of him once more. Ella had moved to do something, but was immediately grabbed by an infected, her hands once again pulled behind her back as she was forced to her knees. 

Saddler’s laugh echoed through the temple as he appeared, walking forward. 

“You have come, my children.” Ella really hated his voice. 

“What. . .do you want?” Leon ground out, grunting as he did everything he could to try and break free of the hold. 

“I simply wish to share this gift with as many as possible. A humble wish, don’t you think?” He asked as he looked over Leon, his gaze annoyingly condescending. 

“More like a death wish. Nobody wants your fucking gift.” Ella snapped, Saddler always managing to make her blood boil. He didn’t even look at her, the woman shoving her to the ground and digging her knee into her spine to hold her there, making Ella grit her teeth in pain as her cheek pressed against the stone floor. Being flat against the ground agitated her ribs, Ella’s having to hold back a whimper. 

“You see, we are all connected through the Holy Body. And now your flesh and bones, your very thoughts. . .are already one with us.” That sounded terrifying to Ella, and she wondered if that meant he could peer into Leon and Ashley’s mind this entire time. Surely not. 

“Bullshit.” Leon muttered, not believing it. 

“Why do you reject serenity?” Ella heard his footsteps start again as he continued his walk around Leon. “When you need only accept the sacred gift? Like. . .she did.” Ella knew he was referring to Ashley, but she refused to believe it. Ashley would never do that unless she had absolutely no choice.

“Saddler!” Leon shouted, but Ella couldn’t see him with the position she was in. She turned her head despite the difficulty, her injured chin now against the floor, but she couldn’t care less about that. Leon was leaning forward, trembling as the Plaga took hold, and Saddler laughed once more. 

“Ah yes.” Leon fell to his knees, Ella’s eyes widening as she watched the veins become even more apparent across his skin. “The time has come, for this lamb to join our covenant!” Leon’s back straightened as The Plaga’s hold became stronger and stronger. “Oh, blessings unto him and the sweet mercy they bring. Exult all- and let it be so!” 

“Leon!” Ella shouted as he threw his head back, his arms spread out and his fists clenched. He couldn’t be turning. She had known it had always been a possibility, but it had never felt real until this moment, and there was nothing she could do. 

Gun shots sounded as the infected holding her suddenly released her, and the women and Saddler were riddled with bullets, releasing Leon from Saddler’s hold. Ella stood, looking up to see Ada, relief flowing through her. 

“Go!” She shouted, continuing to shoot Saddler to buy them time. Ella moved quickly as Leon reached for Ashley, pulling her into his arms and carrying her to the opening to the left despite still clearly struggling with the Parasite inside him. Ella was right behind him, about to tell him to hand Ashley over to her, but the gunshots ceased, and she looked up, seeing that Ada was out of bullets in the machine gun, leaving her with just her handgun. 

Ella made a split-second decision then, turning around and pulling her shotgun out before opening fire on Saddler, stepping closer. She couldn’t leave Ada behind. She knew Leon would take care of Ashley, but Ella knew she may never get the chance to repay Ada for what she had done for her. 

“Ella!” She turned, seeing Leon looking at her. 

“Keep going!” She shouted. She knew Leon wouldn’t understand why she was staying behind. Ada was a trained mercenary, and could probably take care of herself, but this was just something Ella had to do, as she felt indebted to the woman, even for something so simple. She looked back when she heard Saddler grunt behind her. 

She watched as the bullets moved through his body, coming out at the palm of his hands as he dropped them to the floor, her eyes widening. When Saddler turned to Leon, raising his hand, Ella looked to Ada, who understood, and nodded. She was a much better shot than Ella, she was sure. 

Ada aimed at the statue, shooting the chain holding it up, and allowing it to fall, blocking the path to Ashley and Leon. 

Ella focused on Saddler, trusting Leon to save Ashley as she once again opened fire. This time, he didn’t have any servants to stop her from shooting him over, and over, and over again, giving Leon and Ashley plenty of time to escape. When she ran out of bullets, she knew she wouldn’t have time to reload, though she tried anyway, looking up at Ada. 

“Run!” This was her returning the favor to the woman for giving Ella hope when she had none left. Ada was clearly conflicted, but there was respect in her eyes as she took in Ella’s resolve, seeing no fear in her eyes.

Ada nodded, knowing why Ella was doing what she was, and she ran, leaving the girl behind. Ada knew there was nothing she could do for Ella, and she wouldn’t let her decision to stay behind be in vain. 

Ella finished reloading, but Saddler was recovered, raising his hand towards her. Bugs appeared and swarmed her, one hitting her hand and forcing her to drop the shotgun as it clattered to the floor. After that, they parted suddenly, and Saddler was right there, his hand raising as he grabbed Ella by the throat. 

Ella wondered then if he was going to kill her, but what he said next sent confusion rushing through her.

“It is finally time to learn whether letting you live was more beneficial than it was a nuisance.” 

xXx

Leon and Ashley made it back through to the temple, Leon looking down into the altar area. He let out a breath when he didn’t see Ella’s body lying there, relief washing over him, but that begged the question: Where was she? 

He didn’t understand why she had to stay behind like that. They could have all three made it through. Ada could handle herself. She was trained and didn’t go down easily. Ella didn’t either, but she was just a civilian, and it was Saddler.

He clenched his fist in frustration. She should have stuck close to him, like he said. 

“Do you think Ella and that woman are okay?” Ashley asked, and Leon wished he could give her an answer. 

xXx

Coming out of the cave after dealing with the merchant for what was likely the final time, Leon and Ashley’s eyes took in the rising sun. 

“Leon, look! It’s Ella!” Leon moved towards the cliff, bringing out his binoculars for a better view. Sure enough, there she was. Alive. She was hanging from a tower by her wrists, looking up and trying to pull herself up the rope.The tension in his body lessened just a bit. 

“He’s trying to lure me out.” And it would work. He didn’t have a choice. Heading to the elevator, he looked at Ashley. 

“Stay here. I won’t be long.” There was no reason to put her in more danger. Ashley was reluctant, but she knew there was no way she could help Ella, nodding. 

“Okay.” She agreed, and Leon stepped into the elevator, pressing the button before it began lowering him down. As soon as he got to the bottom, he ran out, seeing that Ella was about to pass out from the lack of sufficient oxygen. Getting close enough to where he was within reach but could still see the rope, he aimed, shooting. The bullet through the material, snapping it, and Ella began to drop, Leon moving quickly. He caught her, before kneeling and setting her down, his arm staying behind her back for support as she panted lightly. 

“Leon. . .” She breathed, her eyes moving over him. She took in the fact that the veins were completely gone, which meant he had done it. He and Ashley were finally free of the parasite. They were so close to going home. 

“Are you okay?” He asked her, and she knew part of that question included making sure Saddler hadn’t infected her with the parasite. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. I promise.” She assured him, having been conscious the entire time as Saddler had her strung up before he disappeared. Leon helped her up, his eyes moving over her, just in case. “He didn’t do anything to me, but. . . he did say something weird.” His words had been replaying in her mind, Ella having a bad feeling in her gut. “He said he le-” 

“Well, is this not sweet?” A familiar voice cut her off, and Leon turned, raising his gun as Saddler appeared a few feet from them. “Ah ah, you are focused on the wrong threat.” Leon’s brows furrowed at that, not understanding what Saddler meant. Saddler reached into his robe, Leon following the movement closely, but what Saddler pulled out had not been even close to what he expected. 

It was the gold necklace that Castro had worn around his neck. 

“What? But I destroyed that thing.” Ella said behind him, clearly shocked at the sight of the jewelry. She had mentioned to him how she had thrown the necklace out into the cliffs after taking down Castro. So why would Saddler want to retrieve it?

“No, you merely weakened its power temporarily, my child.” Leon didn’t know what he meant by that, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. Saddler wrapped the necklace around the parasite on his staff, before looking at them. Leon was ready to shoot Saddler in the face and find a way to shut him up once and for all, but he was distracted as the red gem seemed to glow stronger, a bad feeling growing in his gut as Saddler pointed it towards them. 

No, not them. Ella.

“Leon?” Ella’s fear-filled voice reached his ears, it being a sound Leon hated, and he turned to her quickly in concern. 

Black veins were quickly spreading up her arms, neck and face, Leon’s heart dropping as realization hit him, his eyes widening.

Ella was infected.

xXx

A/N: Did y’all see that coming? I tried my best to drop hints while also not making it obvious, but I have no idea how I did. Hopefully you guys like this new twist, as I’ve been planning it from the start. Please let me know your thoughts!

[cophene]

𝐏𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎 | vento aureo; b. bucciarati ending.

✦.⁺ scuffed ball.

table of contents

pairing : vento aureo x gn reader summary : a college student tries getting the attention of some of the most admired and attractive people on campus, only to get caught up with stands and vigilante groups in the process. notes : modern au, multi-chapter fic, sfw, doesn’t follow canon plot word count : 2.5k+

═ ☆. I HAVE GOOD NEWS and bad news,” Bruno said, joining (y/n) at the railing. “Which would you like to hear first?”

(Y/n) was watching the rowdy soccer game unfolding in the courtyard. A line of chalk marked out the soccer goal, and the scuffed ball was so old, (y/n) could hardly see the black-and-white pattern. The children were playing over old, uneven cobblestone, so it couldn’t have been easy to score. The game echoed off the buildings surrounding them, and then out to the sea that sparkled at (y/n)’s back. Occasionally, the children’s parents would glance up from the nearby tables of a restaurant, grinning over sandwiches and glasses of white wine.

“Bad news,” (y/n) said.

“The yacht I was going to rent out is being repaired at the moment, and there won’t be another one for at least two hours.”

“I don’t mind.” The two of them weren’t on a schedule. Today was meant to be pleasant, relaxing. The sun beamed sweetly in the sky, making it just warm enough for short sleeves and shorts. The breeze lifting off the sea smelled fresh, and lightly teased the ends of Bruno’s hair.

“Neither do I,” admitted Bruno. “It’s such a gorgeous day.”

“Well, the bad news wasn’t so bad. What’s your good news?”

“The gelato stall was having a sale, so here’s two scoops of your favourite flavour.”

(Y/n) accepted the cup of gelato that Bruno extended to them.

“You always spoil me whenever we go out,” they said, eating a small spoonful. “I’m gonna have to pay you back sometime.”

“Your delightful company is worth more than anything you could pay me.”

“Alright, Signor Cheesy.”

Bruno laughed. His stylish ensemble today was made up of a silk short-sleeve shirt and dark bermuda shorts. The black bandanna motif on his shirt was echoed by the handkerchief knotted at his throat, and there was something about that (y/n) found satisfying. A pair of sophisticated Dior sunglasses completed the look, lifted into his hair so (y/n) could see his blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

(Y/n) blinked, wondering why Bruno was putting their spoon back into their gelato cup.

“Did you just steal some of my gelato?”

“If I did, it’s your fault for letting me do it. You were staring at me so hard you barely noticed.”

“I was not staring, egomaniac.”

Bruno had the audacity to take another bite.

“I’m not going to deny it. My ego isn’t getting any smaller with all of your staring. It’s the bandanna, isn’t it? I thought you would like it.”

(Y/n) snorted, batting his hand away. “I’m not going to encourage you. Now, let me eat! Did you get two scoops for me or for yourself?”

Bruno held the spoon over his head, goading them. (Y/n) didn’t give him the satisfaction of reaching for it, only jabbing him in the ribs and snatching the spoon when he yelped.

“I’m glad to see you’re mostly back to your usual self,” Bruno said, rubbing his side.

“Mostly,” (y/n) echoed. “Physically, I’m probably at 90 percent. But Stand-wise?” They trailed off, pursing their lips.

“Still no luck with White Satin?”

“Depends on what you mean by luck.”

(Y/n)’s Stand was still there; they were still able to see other Stands. They could call on it, if only to summon a few weakly strands that were barely strong enough for them to weave around their fingers. They weren’t sure what was wrong with it—what was wrong with them. They wanted to be optimistic, but it was hard to be, when their Stand was a whisper of its former self.

Bruno watched their face, his mouth tightening. “It’s frustrating,” he said. “It’s not like there’s anyone we can go to with questions about Stands. All we have to go on is our own experience, and that’s obviously lacking. I mean, who would’ve thought a Stand like Notorious B.I.G. was possible?”

“Didn’t Signor Brando say he had a Stand?”

Bruno shrugged. “He did, but who’s willing to talk to him? I feel like he—and any other higher-ups who might have a Stand—don’t see them the way we do. They see them as … spirits or something. Things that aren’t really connected to us.”

“I still have a hard time wrapping my head around what a Stand even is. Like, it’s connected to your soul? What does that even mean? A soul is so …”

“Metaphysical?”

“Sure, metaphysical. I don’t even understand souls, so what is a Stand? And you could argue animals have souls, so that must mean—”

“Coco Jumbo.”

“What?”

“The turtle that Signor D was using to find Stand users. It had a Stand.”

(Y/n) blew out a breath. “That just proves my point. We don’t know anything, really, about Stands.”

“No,” Bruno said, “We don’t.”

It was a little scary when (y/n) thought about that. For all they knew, having a Stand meant they would drop dead in the next year. When they thought about how much they knew, it only brought more questions, more things they didn’t know.

“The yacht isn’t coming back anytime soon. How should we kill time?” Bruno asked, adjusting the handkerchief around his neck.

“Woah, watch out!”

Bruno and (y/n) glanced up, just in time to see the soccer ball flying toward them. (Y/n) stepped quickly out of the way, surprised when Bruno intercepted the ball and passed it deftly between his knees before kicking it in a high arc back to the children.

“Where did that come from?” they asked, bemused.

“I happen to be a very talented soccer player,” Bruno deadpanned, and (y/n) couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not.

“Signor, do you want to play with us?” a girl from the courtyard game called.

“You seem pretty good!”

“Can you please? The other team has too many people!”

(Y/n) smirked behind their gelato cup. “Now you have to show me some of this talent.”

“You insult me. What can I prove by playing with a bunch of ten-year-olds?” Nonetheless, Bruno glanced at the children’s parents dining outside, pointing a finger at the game to ask for permission.

“Go ahead!” one of the mothers called. “We can hardly keep up with them!”

(Y/n) leaned back against the railing as Bruno took a place among the children. It was an odd sight, all of the players barely coming up to Bruno’s torso. But his face was just as focused as any of the other children, and (y/n) found it sweet how committed he was to this impromptu soccer match.

There really wasn’t anything Bruno could prove by playing the game. He barely moved throughout it, not kicking the ball so much as tapping it towards the children. It quickly became clear that his position was to run after the ball when it escaped the boundaries of the soccer match and to act as referee to clear up scuffles that occured. Some people happened to be good with children, and Bruno, (y/n) discovered, was one of them. There was none of the self-consciousness or awkwardness that usually came with young adults and children. He made himself a part of the game so effortlessly that his enthusiasm almost made (y/n) forget he was a college student.

During a particularly intense part of the game, one boy found himself on the ground with a badly scraped knee. He was escorted off the courtyard to his parents, head held high even as his eyes welled with tears. (Y/n) watched him go with a rueful smile. Poor kid.

“Alright, this calls for a free kick,” said Bruno, placing his hands on his hips. “Who wants to go?”

Despite what (y/n) had thought, none of the children volunteered. They glanced at each other, the eagerness they’d just had nowhere to be found.

Bruno raised his eyebrow. “No one?”

“They should do it,” a curly-haired boy said. “They’ve been watching the whole time.” (Y/n) jolted to find his finger was pointing at them.

A chorus of agreements rose.

Bruno looked at (y/n). He tilted his head, fighting a smile.

“No, thank you,” (y/n) said. “You’re doing fine without me.”

“Aww come on!”

“It’s just one kick!”

“Yeah, it’ll be easy!”

Bruno crouched beside the girl who had first asked him to the game. She seemed to be the ringleader. He whispered something to her, and the girl’s eyes lit up. She bounded up to (y/n), who looked at her suspiciously.

“Signor Bruno says he’ll give you a kiss if you score a goal,” she said solemnly.

“He did, did he?” (Y/n) narrowed their eyes at Bruno. Well, if he was offering…

They took their spot in front of the makeshift goal. At the end of the day, they were still a college student going up against a bunch of kids, so Bruno had them all line up in front of the goal, making sure not to leave one spot open. As though that wasn’t enough, Bruno himself acted as goalkeeper.

(Y/n) took a few steps back from the ball. Scoring would be nice, but they would settle for a ridiculously far kick that soared over everyone’s head and to the goddamn next street.

They rushed forward and kicked as hard as they could.

It was hard to say how it happened. One minute, a wall of children blocked the ball. Maybe they panicked, or maybe the ball was too fast. But, somehow, by some terrible twist, all of the children were able to leap out of the way.

And Bruno didn’t.

Everyone in the general vicinity grimaced. The children gasped and cried out as the ball slammed like a cannonball into Bruno’s crotch. He fell to his knees, then crumpled to the ground. A terrible, wounded noise escaped him.

(Y/n) rushed to him, one apology barely out before they were saying another one. Bruno’s shoulders were shaking. They touched his back, not sure if he was sobbing or laughing into the cobblestone.

“Holy shit, Bruno. I’m so sorry. Are you okay? What should I do? Do you need an ambulance?”

“Don’t swear in front of the kids,” Bruno managed to croak.

“Give him some air,” (y/n) said, shooing the children off. “Soccer game is over. Go back to your parents.”

The children did so, reluctantly. A few parents approached, asking after Bruno. He waved them off with a weak hand.

“I’m so sorry, Bruno. Why did I do that? I should’ve aimed to the side.”

“It wasn’t … your fault.”

“Yes, it was. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t—you don’t have to keep … apologizing.” This last sentence broke off in a pained groan.

“What should I do?”

“Help me up.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“I’m fine. Really.”

(Y/n) slid their arm under Bruno’s shoulder and helped him gently to his feet. For a second, he straightened, and (y/n) was tempted to believe the ball hadn’t hit him as hard as they’d feared.

But then he slumped against (y/n). He was trying to seem unaffected, but his face was pale and beads of sweat trailed down his forehead.

“We should sit down.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“You can barely stand.”

Bruno grimaced, closing his eyes. (Y/n) felt bad for almost laughing at how ridiculous this whole thing was.

“Actually, maybe we should sit,” he said in a rush.

(Y/n) guided Bruno to one of the outdoor tables as delicately as they could. Bruno immediately hunched down in his seat, releasing a string of profanities now that there were no children in earshot. (Y/n) didn’t know what else to do but sit opposite him and stare worriedly.

“I’m going to the restroom,” he said, rising unsteadily. He had to grip the back of his chair for a moment.

If it weren’t indecent, (y/n) would’ve gone with him, worried as they were. Bruno returned a few minutes later, his gait still ginger.

“Alright, everything is intact and there’s no bleeding. Bruising, yes, but you don’t need to know that.”

“I’m so sorry,” (y/n) said again. The words weren’t enough.

“It wasn’t your fault. Stop apologizing.” Bruno should’ve been a saint. (Y/n) had probably just destroyed his manhood, both literally and figuratively, and here he was smiling at them.

He blew out a breath. “The yacht should be ready by now,” he said, turning to leave. “We should get going.”

“Lagoon 2,” (y/n) said, peering at the mast. “What a coincidence.”

Bruno glanced at it. “You’re right. Let’s just hope it stays Lagoon 2. I’m not in the mood for a swim today, although the water looks lovely.”

The water was lovely, dancing with the bright afternoon sun. A few lazy clouds drifted in the sky, and it was almost blinding, how brightly blue the sea and sky were. The scent of the sea was strong, a welcome change from the city, and that, coupled with the warmth of the sun and breeze lifting off the water made (y/n) feel more at ease than they had in weeks. Gulls cried overhead, a few curious ones perching on the yacht with (y/n).

They took a seat on the lounge chairs. “It’s just looking at me,” (y/n) said, making a face at the birds. One of them squawked loudly.

“That’s a black-tailed gull,” Bruno said, coming down from where he’d been standing by the helm. “Cute, isn’t it?”

“Annoying, more like.” The gull lurched forward, looking as though it might bite (y/n). It hissed, raising its wings menacingly, and (y/n) was tempted to hiss right back.

“How do you even know what kind of bird it is? All gulls look the same.”

“My dad used to tell me whenever I went out fishing with him. Gulls are his favourite type of bird.”

“Despite how loud, irritating and aggressive they are?”

“He likes the gulls, not me.”

(Y/n) reached out to bat the bird away. It lifted into the air with a squawk that sounded more like a scream.

“Do you want something to drink?” Bruno made his way below deck.

“Sure. No alcohol, though. I don’t think I could stomach it.”

Bruno disappeared, and (y/n) turned their attention back to the sea. The interrogation with Zucchero felt like a million years ago. If only they’d known at the time what would happen to their Stand. How much they would miss being able to call on it.

The strangest thing happened just then. (Y/n)’s hand twitched, and when they glanced at it, they flinched so hard it hurt.

“Bruno!”

“Did it work?!”

(Y/n) brought their hand up. A glass filled with pretty pink lemonade sparkled in their hand.

“How the hell did you do that?”

“I’ve been practicing!” Bruno popped his head from the hatch, looking all too pleased with himself. “I found out that the gaping void that Sticky Fingers makes can actually lead to different places. I just have to put a zipper in both spots .”

“But how? My hand was closed the whole time!”

Bruno shrugged. “I’m just that good. Think of all the ways I can mess with you.”

(Y/n) sipped from their drink. It was delicious, unfortunately.

“You could’ve told me before you did that. Scared the shit out of me. Is this payback for crushing your balls?”

“For the last time, it wasn’t your fault. I already forgave you … But yes. That was payback. I could unzip entire limbs and send them to you.”

“I’m sorry, Bruno.”

“Tell that to the kids I won’t be able to have.”

table of contents

[honeykpopgirl]

~VANNER First Kiss Imagines~

Reader X VANNER

A/n: This work is purely fictional! These are simply imagines that were created for the sake of the content, so please don't come at me. IT'S JUST FUN! PLEASE DON'T REPOST OR UPLOAD ANYWHERE ELSE! If you're going to use my work, please ask for my permission and make sure to credit me, if consent was given.

Taehwan:

There’s a new dessert shop that opened nearby and you’ve been wanting to go try it. Taehwan had the day off, so the two of you opted to go see what the hype is all about.

Taehwan didn’t plan on ordering anything as he was currently on a diet, which made you feel guilty for agreeing to come to the dessert place, however, he assured you it was fine and he wanted to bring you here, since you’ve been mentioning it for quite some time. You tell him you could’ve come on your own another time, but he stops you and says it’s not a bother, he’s happy to take you to places you want to go. In the end, Taehwan ordered something as well, as it was something both of you wanted to try.

Taehwan offered the first bite to you and you happily obliged, taking the piece of dessert into your mouth. Your eyes immediately lit up as you let out a delightful sound. You exclaim it’s really good, before taking another bite and squealing some more, doing a small happy cheer. Gesturing to the plate, you urge Taehwan to try, even if it’s just a small bite.

You pause to see Taehwan looking at you with soft eyes that glittered with amusement, a soft smile on his lips. The way he stared at you made your heart slip into overdrive but you pushed away the feeling and held out the fork to him. He glanced down at your lips, lingering for a moment, before he looked at the fork. You suddenly felt self-conscious with the way he was being, however, you didn’t think much of it after he accepted the fork.

Moving to sit back, you failed to notice Taehwan lean over the table until you turned back to look up at him. Your eyes widened with surprise as you felt his lips crash against yours, his tongue swirling a little on the outskirts of your lips. 

You freeze in place, wondering what he was doing. Your cheeks flushed with heat as you came back to your senses but Taehwan had already pulled away to sit back in his seat. You stared at him, thinking what the heck. A huge smile found its way onto his lips as he looked at you.

“You’re right, it is really good.”

Gon:

You and Gon had been dating for a few months already but the two of you had decided to take things slow. Recently, you’ve been thinking about whether or not the both of you were ready for the next step, as in kissing each other, because you definitely were, but you weren’t sure about your partner.

It was Gon’s rest day, so he came over to spend time with you, even though y’all just stayed home and played video games together. 

Hearing the doorbell ring brought you out of game mode and you paused the video, realizing the delivery food mostly likely arrived. You moved to get up, only to see Gon was a second faster than you, already on his way to the door. You smiled and verbally thanked him, to which earned you a “yeee~” as he turned around to wink at you. The doorbell rang again and he let out an “oop” and dashed down the hallway. You laughed at his silliness before getting up yourself to go help.

Walking into the kitchen, you saw that Gon was already there, setting down the bags of food. You slipped up next to him to help take out the food as Gon stepped away to grab plates. When he walked back, you faced him to take the plates from him, before verbally thanking him again. He smiled at you until you tippy-toed and leaned in, softly brushing your lips against his before pulling away. 

Gon stared at you with a blank expression, taken by surprise. He blinked out of it and then really looked at you. You let out a small laugh, pulling away from him to put the plates down onto the counter, only for a gasp to escape you as arms slipped around you. You squealed as Gon pulled you close, nuzzling into your neck, before reaching over with his hand to turn your head to face him and press your lips together once more but harder this time. You turned your body to him, wrapping your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss, but instead, you broke free from the kiss as you felt yourself lift into the air. Gon carried you bridal style in his arms and stared down at you, his eyes smoldering.

“Did you really think you could get away with that without consequence?”

Hyesung:

Hyesung came over to bake cookies with you as he “whined” about not being able to do it with you last time, when you brought your homemade cookies while visiting Vanner at their dorm.

While you were guiding him, he was like an excited puppy, eager to learn, and make a mess but you didn’t mind, instead you laughed at how cute and endearing he was. After putting the cookies into the oven, you helped him clean up, still laughing to yourself, even though he sulked. You patted his shoulder to reassure him, saying it’s fun.

Hyesung beamed at you then, before puckering his lips to give you air kisses. You laughed some more before pushing him away, saying “no, gross!” He laughed as well before saying, “Why?? I’m just giving you my love!”

Seeing him move to chase you around the counter, you evaded Hyesung, running away from his “love”. You let out a squeal as he caught up to you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back against him. He continued to make kissy sounds as he puckered his lips toward you, leaning into your space, even though you were also leaning away from him. Reaching your distant limit, you fell to the floor but he followed your retreat and hovered over you. You whined as he gently pinned you to the floor, still moving into you. Putting a hand over your mouth, you blocked his kiss. 

After planting a kiss on your hand, he blinked at you before pulling away with a small chuckle. Thinking he was done, you removed your hand from your mouth, only to be taken by surprise as Hyesung quickly moved back in and pressed his lips against yours. You moved to push him away but instead, found yourself melting into his kiss. 

Hyesung slowly pulled away after a moment and shared a soft smile with you.

“Got you.”

Sungkook:

Running to answer the door, Sungkook greeted you with a warm smile, when he came into view. You stepped aside for him to come inside, before closing the door behind him. After doing so, you whipped around to tackle-hug him, earning a low chuckle from your partner. He asked you what was wrong but you said nothing, only snuggled into him. He let out another soft laugh before you pulled away and led him to the kitchen.

The two of you unpacked the pastries and snacks Sungkook had bought as the other members were arriving a little later for the pot-luck y’all had planned earlier. Among the pastries though, you saw your favorite one. As you reached for it, Sungkook reached past you and grabbed it. You turned to him, seeing him laugh. He teased you, saying you can’t eat it yet. You pouted a little before moving to him to reach for the pastry, claiming there’s more and the others won’t find out. 

You continue to “fight” Sungkook, failing to grab the pastry from him as he evades you, moving around the table. Granted, you could just grab another pastry from the pile, but to be honest, it was more fun this way. Although you had to admit, you were getting tired.

Stopping yourself from reaching anymore, Sungkook chuckled as he lowered his arm, asking you if you’re okay. He stepped closer to you and you took your chance, lunging for the pastry, but he saw through your scheme and pulled his arm out of your reach. You fell against his chest when you missed and he laughed again. 

Thinking he’ll never see this coming, you grab onto his collar with both of your hands and bring him closer to you, before pressing your lips against his. You felt him freeze for a moment and broke free from the kiss, quickly grabbing the pastry from his hand. 

You let out a laugh as you ran away in victory before turning to look back at Sungkook, only to see he was still in shock. You were tempted to walk back to him, however, you knew better. Sungkook finally exhaled a big sigh before he turned to meet your eyes, shyly. You could tell he was blushing, with the way he covered his face with his hand.

“My gosh, Y/N, why are you so cute?…That was so unfair!”

Yeongkwang:

It was finally the day for you and Yeongkwang to go on the date he had planned for the both of you.

The two of you went out to the new mall that just recently opened, walking and shopping around, before stopping to get some food. You offered to go eat the food at the park, as the cafeteria area was packed and he agreed. Arriving at said park, you both sat down on a nearby bench, before spreading out some of the dishes to be shared between you two. You guys ate the takeout in a peaceful silence, sparing each other glances and smiles here and there, before Yeongkwang suddenly broke out into a laugh. You ask him what’s wrong and he apologizes before saying he feels a little silly. You don’t understand but he just shakes his head, assuring you it’s nothing.

After finishing and throwing away the trash, the two of you sit next to each other on the bench, watching people pass by. Suddenly, Yeongkwang points out his hand to your far left, exclaiming that there’s something for you to see. You turn your head to look at what he’s talking about, but you don’t see anything. Raising an eyebrow in confusion, you turn your head to ask what he saw, only for your lips to brush against his.

You froze in place, shocked at what just happened. A small smile appeared on Yeongkwang’s lips as he stared into your eyes, making your heart beat faster. You blinked at him, still figuring out what to do, let alone finding your voice to speak.

Yeongkwang let out a laugh as he pulled away from you, turning to the side. Even though he was the one who initiated the kiss, you could see that his ears were red. He looked back at you with warm, soft eyes.

“You’re so cute!”

[foxgloveblue]

pale in a liminal moon 🌙 chapter 14

Pairing: Grian/Scar

Tags: selkie AU, steampunk AU, enemies to lovers, slow burn

Summary: Scar and Grian decide to take a vacation.

Words: 4,020

previous chapter || next chapter

ao3 link || masterpost

It was a goddamn miracle that their lunch went by without incident. 

As far as Scar could tell, three things contributed to a blissfully normal outing. One, the food itself – they had gone to a nearby pub, not wanting to bother getting back in the carriage, and Scar had been shocked by the quality. They both had gotten perfectly golden fish n’ chips, hot enough that Scar tongue still stung a little from that first, deliciously painful bite. 

Two, the conversation – Scar managed to keep the talk blissfully light by letting Grian talk ceaselessly on about his book. Grian clearly adored it, though his ramblings had grown more and more incoherent as the lunch wore on.

Which brought Scar to the third and most amusing reason. Grian apparently could not hold his liquor. At all. He had only had half a pint before Scar had gingerly confiscated it from the man, who was getting increasingly sloshed from the light honey ale.

It wasn’t an unpleasant experience, honestly – Grian seemed to light up in his inebriation, the veneer of sly wit and sharp fury giving way to a genuine joy that had him happily chatting up strangers at the pub. Though he might’ve gotten a little too relaxed with others – Scar had needed to pull him away from a conversation where he was bragging about the furthest swim he had ever done.  

He was tempted to ask Grian if his fae physiology had anything to do with his weak countenance, but he didn’t dare risk turning Grian’s bubbly buzz into an angry drunkness.

He did seem to be sobering up, however. He was much quieter as they climbed back into the carriage, just staring out the window as Scar settled Grumbot into his sleep mode. 

That silence continued as the carriage started up, making its slow way through the crowded streets. 

If he was honest, Scar wasn’t glad for the hush. The still, slow moments gave him plenty of time for his mind to wander back to his conversation with Cub, which he had happily pushed away from his mind with the filling pleasures of good food and better company. 

It bothered Scar. The things that Cub said about Grian just being his asset, about any potential feelings only leading to heartbreak – all of that made him disquieted, uncomfortable in his own skin. Mostly because, well… it was hard to argue with. The way Cub laid it out, it was a stark, barren truth. A truth Scar didn’t want to accept, but the truth nevertheless.

A truth that meant no matter what, Scar would end this affair as a betrayer. If he let Grian go, he would betray Cub, Doc, ConCorp itself – he would betray the years of hard work that got him this position in the first place. 

And if he remained Grian’s keeper? That would be an undeniable betrayal of Grian. And, though he remained afraid to fully admit it… it felt like it would be a betrayal of his own heart. 

He turned his gaze to the now-silent Grian. He was pensively running a finger over his book, though he was still staring out the window. They had moved beyond the market streets, the vibrant colors giving way to the typical faded brick façades of Cardiff. Other carriages passed by, most drawn by horses, but a few churned along by themselves, steam valves releasing puffs of gas into the gray sky. 

Grian was beautiful. Scar inhaled, allowing himself to sit with that thought for a moment. Grian was beautiful and strange, his very appearance a contradiction to itself; his hair that turned gold in the sunlight, the kisses of freckles across his face, juxtaposed with his endlessly dark eyes, as unpredictable as the sea and twice as dangerous.

Scar knew that he had always felt that way, but had been pushing it to the recesses of his mind. At first, it was because he didn’t think Grian was human at all, but then… well, Scar supposed he had just been afraid. Afraid of what that thought really meant. 

It wasn’t just his looks, either. Despite his best efforts, despite Grian’s best efforts, Scar found him impossibly enchanting. Every interaction between them, even the ones that made Scar want to scream or cry, felt like a precious thing. Knowing this man was a gift. 

But was that love? 

Scar wasn’t sure. He didn’t think he had ever been in love. Not really. He loved his friends, certainly, had loved his family before – before. But romantic love? Scar had never experienced any serious relationships, only passing fancies that were closer to lust than love. 

Whatever he had with Grian was different.

Grian finally seemed to notice his staring, dark eyes flicking over to meet his. He raised an eyebrow, expression otherwise unchanging. “What?”

Scar licked his lips nervously. “Why did you kiss me?”

Grian was silent for a moment, clearly regarding Scar. And then a smile broke across his face, halfway between his drunken, carefree joy and his usual sly grin. “I thought it would be funny.”

“Funny?” Scar coughed. 

“Sure. I thought it’d get you flustered, ‘n make your friend all huffy. An’ I was right.” Grian laughed, his voice slurring slightly over some of the words. 

Scar scoffed, but he couldn’t help the smile on his face. He was right about the kiss not being about genuine attraction, but it was far from the manipulating, scheming picture Cub had attempted to paint – Grian was just being a little cheeky. 

“Hey.” Grian said, even snapping his fingers to get Scar’s attention. “I wan’ to go to the beach.”

“What?” Scar blinked in confusion.

“I want to go to the beach.” Grian repeated, this time enunciating each of his words carefully. His eyes then narrowed, expression turning disdainful. “You promised you’d take me.”

“I did, but… you want to go now ?”

“If not now, when?” Grian crossed his arms. “The ball is coming up soon, an’ I know you need to do a bunch of prep still. There’s no way you’d take me afterwards, ‘cause then I’ll have served my purpose and you’re gonna send me off to some laboratory. So I need to do it now.” 

Scar stared at him. That… was what the deal had been, hadn’t it? Get Grian’s cooperation with the masquerade, then ship him off to a lab afterward. But the thought of their time together coming to a definitive end was making Scar feel nearly sick with anxiety. 

“Well?” Grian prompted. “Can we go or not?” 

Scar’s gaze fell to his hands. Maybe a little time away from the madness of the manor would give him clarity. 

“Okay.” He said. “Let’s go to the beach.”

_-_🌙_-_

“You are such a liar.”

“I’m not! I promise we are actually going.”

Grian just huffed, continuing to stare out the window. Scar couldn’t really blame him for his distrust. 

His manor loomed over the countryside, the carriage making its slow ascent towards the imposing structure. It really did seem like they were just heading back to Scar’s house. He would’ve further assured Grian with where they were really headed, but he didn’t want to ruin the surprise.

Just as they began to make the final approach to the tall, coppery gates, the carriage peeled off down a much less-traveled, though still well-maintained, road. Even in the afternoon sun, the path was hard to see – it was surrounded by tall oak trees, their branches stretching to form a dappled canopy of light over the dirt road. 

“See?” Scar said, resisting the childish urge to stick his tongue out. “We aren’t just going back to the manor.”

Grian apparently had the same idea but no such inhibitions – he stuck his tongue out at Scar proudly before returning to watching the scenery change. Scar just chuckled. 

They continued down the road, large trees and lush grass giving way to a more barren, wind-swept landscape. They were approaching the edge of the cliff which Scar’s manor perched atop of, the vast gray ocean stretching out endlessly beyond the precarious edge. This close to the cliff, Scar always got a little nervous, but Grian had no such inhibitions. He leaned forward in his seat, as though trying to feel the tangy sea breeze through the thick glass partition. 

Just as it seemed as though they were about to drive straight off the cliff, the carriage turned sharply, beginning the torturous descent down the narrow, winding switchbacks that cut into the dark stone of the cliffside. Scar could hear Grian’s breath quicken. For just a moment, Scar swear he could feel a phantom rush of electric current shiver over his skin, followed by an intense joy, tinged with a bitter, hollow longing. But just as quickly as it came, the feeling was abruptly cut off, a sudden stopper to the sensation leaving him off-balance.

He eyed Grian, but if the man had felt the same thing, he didn’t show it. He just continued his ceaseless gaze to the ocean beyond.

It took a while, but they finally reached the base of the cliff – natural stone paths gave way to solid wood that cut across the sandy shores of the small beach. They were nestled in a tight cove, the bottlenecked water creating delightfully small waves that lapped gently against the coast. 

Turning the corner, the carriage finally rolled to a stop in front of Scar’s beach house. It was nearly hidden by the natural formation of the cliff face, rock rippling around the building like the folds of a curtain. 

It was small by Scar’s standards – only two stories high, painted a pretty pink that stood out against the dark gray stone. Scar hadn’t been here in – void, in years, but the house still managed to look inviting, a little refuge from the outside world. 

Grian practically leapt to his feet, waiting impatiently for the carriage to open its doors – when it did, he sprinted towards the water, shedding clothes along the way. 

Scar laughed a bit, turning towards Grumbot, who was shaking itself out of sleep mode. “Ready for our little impromptu vacation?”

Grumbot looked up at him, internal typewriter whirring away. After a moment, he printed out a message, and Scar picked it up. He was pretty sure it read ‘I CANNOT SWIM’.

“Well, that’s alright – you can help me get that beach house ready.” Scar eyed the dark windows. Inviting or not, it was going to be very, very dusty inside. 

The odd pair busied themselves with gathering the things from the carriage. Grumbot grabbed all of Grian’s many parcels, while Scar nabbed his book. While he waited for Grumbot to get the balance of his things just right, Scar flipped through the book out of curiosity.

Although Grian was pretty drunk while talking about it, he managed to make it sound rather interesting. It was the story of a young girl who began to see spirits in the walls of a boarding school she was forcibly sent to escape the terrible war that was ripping through her hometown. Grian had spoken at length about the symbolism and politics of the novel, but it largely went over Scar’s head. He could admit that ironically, he wasn’t all that familiar with the history of Solhavian conflict, although he did recognize some of the fairy tales referenced in the text.  

Though Scar obviously couldn’t read a word of it, he was surprised to see that the book was illustrated. Woodcut prints cut through the blocks of text, heavy black ink creating stark, vivid scenes despite the simplicity of the craft. They mostly seemed to be of the spirits themselves, strange creatures that lurked in shadows, big, bulging eyes. Occasionally, the girl who was presumably the main character would appear – Scar noticed that she mostly depicted looking frightened or sad, blocky tears rolling down her youthful face. 

When he reached the last page, he froze. The entire paper was taken up by a large illustration of the girl, her face finally in a serene smile despite the fact that she was clearly dead. She was laid out in a coffin – no flowers adorned her still body, her dress muddy and torn. Instead, the tiny spirits seemed to had crawled in with her, their shadowy forms laid bare in the grim scene. 

Scar closed the book quickly. Didn’t seem like his kind of thing.

It took a bit of time, but he and Grumbot eventually made it into the beach house, the door swinging open at the sound of Scar’s voice. As Grumbot put the parcels in one of the guest bedrooms, Scar flung open the curtains. As he had suspected, the light filtering in revealed a neat yet very dusty interior. 

Despite its sorry state, the living room was still very lovely. It was decorated very traditionally, blue and white furniture arranged neatly in the sitting area. The walls were decorated with paintings of the sea that somehow looked more melancholy than Scar had remembered. 

Scar sighed, though was careful not to breathe too deeply – he didn’t particularly enjoy the coughing fits that dust often brought him. This place would need to be cleaned up quite a bit before he spent any amount of time here.

As if on cue, Grumbot rolled back into the living room, looking up at Scar with his glowing lightbulb eyes.

“Could you do some dusting around here?” Scar asked, then realized it was odd he was phrasing it like a request. Well, considering Grumbot could talk, he supposed it didn’t hurt to be polite. “There are some other servant-bots in the back of the house – I’m sure you all could get this place perfect in no time at all.”

Grumbot beeped his assurance, then held out his hands expectantly. Scar was confused for a moment – did it want him to help? – before he realized that Grumbot was asking for Grian’s book.

Scar passed it to him, and Grumbot rolled off, presumably to place it in Grian’s bedroom. That little thing seemed to be getting smarter with every passing hour, and Scar wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Regardless of the implications of artificial intelligence, Scar absolutely did not want to be around for the actual cleaning – if breathing was hard now, it would be impossible as the dust was kicked up. Deciding to take his leave, he ducked out of the front door, gazing out towards the beach.

This entire stretch of land was Scar’s property, and he had constructed a wooden pier that stretched out from the beach house’s front deck all the way to the water. To be honest, beachgoing was more of an aesthetic pleasure for Scar than anything else. Walking on sand was difficult for him, and swimming was even harder. Most of his vacations were spent simply appreciating the ocean sunsets. 

He figured that wave-watching was a good enough pastime for an hour or so when he realized that there was a figure sitting at the edge of the dock. Shielding his eyes from the slowly-sinking sun, Scar squinted into the distance. He could make out just enough that it was pretty clear that it was Grian who was hunched over the gray water. 

Scar frowned, surprised. He assumed Grian would be out swimming for at least a few hours, considering that he spent a good amount of time in Scar’s pool most days. Seeing him already out of the water was… strange.

Scar began to walk down the wooden pier, making sure to enjoy the biting sea breeze on the way. It really had been too long since he had come down here, especially since it was literally right under his house.

As he approached, he was glad to see that Grian had kept his underwear on. Other than that, though, his skin was bare in the afternoon sun, droplets of water creating dazzling pinpricks of light – it almost looked like the light dusting of freckles across his shoulders and back were glowing.

“Water too cold?” Scar asked, settling down on the metal bench he had installed. Scar just wasn’t a fan of sitting on the floor, for several reasons. 

Grian, on the other hand, looked perfectly content slinging his legs over the rough wood planks. It was high tide, and his feet were submerged in the lapping gray water. “It’s never too cold for me.” He replied, his voice unusually quiet. Scar could barely hear him over the dull roar of the ocean. 

Scar whistled, long and slow. “That’s pretty impressive. It looks freezing to me.”

Grian glanced over his shoulder. His dark eyes were deep with some unnamable emotion. “Wanna try?”

Scar barked out a laugh. “Oh, uh, no thank you. I think I’m good right where I am.” 

“You should.” Even from this angle, Scar could tell that Grian was smiling. “There’s something I want to show you.”

When Scar hesitated, Grian rolled his eyes. “I promise not to push you in, you big baby.”

After a moment of consideration – would Grian actually pass by such a prime opportunity to prank him? – Scar relented, painstakingly making his way to sit next to Grian on the deck. He was reassured of Grian’s intentions, however, when he almost fell into the water entirely unassisted, and Grian grabbed his arm to steady him. 

“Careful.” Grian snickered, and Scar felt himself blush, though he chuckled at his clumsiness right alongside Grian.

“Thanks,” he said, finally managing to sit in a way that wasn’t too uncomfortable. Unconsciously, his gaze drifted down – he had never seen Grian without a shirt on, and without even thinking, he took in the man’s form. He was just as soft as Scar thought, stomach forming gentle rolls from his bent-over position. His chest was also bigger than Scar had expected, a light dusting of hair trailing from his breast down his centerline. 

Realizing what he was doing, Scar snapped his gaze up, horrified – he had absolutely been ogling Grian. Grian himself looked rather amused, though it was impossible to tell if it was because he had caught Scar or because of whatever he was planning.

“Well?” Grian asked.

“Well…?” Scar repeated uncertainly. 

“Are you going to touch the water or what?” Grian laughed again.

Right. Cold water. 

Scar tore his gaze away from Grian, eyeing the gray water trepidatiously. If Grian was actually planning on pushing him in, Scar was going to be miserably cold until he could go back inside for the spare clothes squirreled away in his closet. 

Deciding to trust Grian regardless, Scar leaned over, dipping the tips of his fingers into the salty water. As he suspected, it was ice-cold, the pale spring sun not yet strong enough to warm the ocean depths. A shiver ran through his arm. 

“Okay…” Scar said slowly. “Now wh–”

He was suddenly cut off by the feeling of Grian grabbing his other hand, immediately followed by a rush of electric current that was still somehow shocking. The bond – Grian was activating their bond. Scar gasped in shock, muscles tensing as the sensation rippled over him, painful in its intensity.  

His whole body prickled like a livewire, but the point of contact between them was almost unbearably hot. Scar would’ve instinctively yanked his hand away, but Grian’s grip was iron-tight, unyielding despite the sensation. 

“Scar.” Grian’s voice felt distant in Scar’s panicked state, but he could tell that it was calm, steady. He wildly glanced over to Grian, and he saw that his expression was much the same. Almost comforting, even. “Take a deep breath. Open yourself up to me.”

Open…? He wanted Scar to take more of this? Scar let out a ragged gasp. He felt like he was barely holding onto consciousness at this point, as though he were about to faint away into another memory-dream. 

“Breathe. Breathe.” As if summoned by his words, Scar could suddenly feel Grian’s breaths on his skin, hot puffs of air that made his heart flutter. 

Swallowing thickly, Scar squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on matching his breaths to Grian’s rhythm. In, out, in, out – slow, deep, strong. 

“Don’t fight it.” Grian’s voice was practically a whisper, but it was as loud as the ocean to Scar’s ears. “Let the current take you.”

For a terrifying moment, Scar thought Grian really was about to push him into the water, but no – his hand remained, steady as a rock, on his. Scar realized, in a moment of brilliant clarity, that wherever Scar was going, Grian was coming too. 

And with that, the pain and fear abated, evaporating like the morning mist over still water. 

It wasn’t as though the sensation of the bond was gone – honestly, it felt stronger than ever. The electric flow came and ebbed with Scar’s heartbeat, filling every inch of him with a strange, beautiful power. It no longer felt alien, magic invader of his own mind, his own body. It felt right.

Scar opened his eyes. Grian was only inches away from his face, his expression alight with joy. Even his dark eyes seemed kindled somehow, a flicker of something unseeable to the human gaze, but something that Scar could now just barely comprehend. 

“See?” Grian sounded almost out of breath. “Do you feel that?”

“Yes.” Scar gasped.  It felt beautiful, paranatural, something that Scar might never be able to live without again. Haunting in its draw, desperate in its hold. “Yes, yes, I feel it.”

“The water?”

The what? 

“It’s warm now, right?” Grian continued. “On your hand?”

Scar glanced down to where his fingertips were still submerged in the gray ocean currents. Now that he was paying attention to that rather than the mind-blowing experience he was now privy to, he realized that the water indeed was warm against his skin, rather than the uncomfortable chill that had bothered him earlier. 

He looked back up to Grian’s excited expression. He couldn’t help it – he started laughing.

“What?” Grian asked, sounding defensive. “What’s so funny?”

But Scar couldn’t answer. He was laughing so hard at this point that it had physically started to hurt, his ribs aching with each exuberant breath.

Clearly it was contagious, because despite his clear annoyance, Grian started to laugh too. It was almost as if the feelings were being magnified through the bond, each laugh ricocheting off one another, building up momentum until they were both wheezing for breath.

“So that’s what you wanted to show me?” Scar finally managed to gasp, pulling his hand from the sea to hold his stomach. “You did – whatever you just did – so you could make me feel the water temperature ?”

Grian spluttered, his already-flushed cheeks growing redder with embarrassment. “Well, I – I thought it was neat, okay?”

“I mean, sure.” Scar chuckled again, careful not to laugh too hard – his poor ribs. “But, uh, you felt the rest of that too, right? I can’t be the only one who thinks it’s kind of small potatoes in comparison.”

Grian turned away. “I just wanted to show you that memories aren’t the only things shared through the bond.”

Scar bit his lip at the mention of their now-shared memories – so Grian had seen into his head. Of course. He desperately wanted to ask what memories he had experienced; there were certainly things in there that were rather damning. 

Instead, he asked “So… do I have magic now?”

“What?” Grian barked out a laugh. “Uh, not really? I mean, I guess you have as much magic as I do, which isn’t much.” He considered for a second. “When us selkies exchange skins – or someone takes our skin – we can share things with each other. Memories, feelings, abilities, whatever. So I’m just sharing a little of my cold resistance with you.” 

“Well, I certainly feel more magical than I did a few minutes ago.” Scar chuckled, instantly regretting it. Ow. “Is there a limit to what you can share?”

“If you’re asking whether or not you can transform into a seal, the answer is a definite no. Although…” Grian grinned wickedly. “Want to go for a swim?” 

[a-whump-muffin]

bad apple!! (2)

the start of a manhunt...

CW: box boy universe, no whump just a seedy megacorporation stalking its (former) employees

---

Roy Himmel isn’t a real person, and disappears from this world just as quickly and quietly as he entered it. 

Karl almost doesn't believe his own eyes when he takes a proper look at Himmel's file. He was hired from a career fair at Syracuse University, a university he definitely did attend and graduated from with a degree in linguistics. It has all been stored alongside his resume and onboarding paperwork. After he was hired, those files were basically forgotten and left to collect dust.

When Karl is asked to unearth Himmel's file for the first time in five years, he initially finds nothing remarkable about it. It's not until he reviews the man's emergency contact list to report if he has any relatives or significant others to worry about his sudden disappearance that Karl runs into a dead end.

The phone number listed under his emergency contact is out of service. The person he listed as his emergency contact is the owner of a bookstore in a city halfway across the country, who once communicated with Himmel over the acquisition of a rare book in Romanian and nothing more.

Karl's job is almost entirely based around facts. There is little room for speculation where he is concerned. He runs background checks and investigates potential acquisitions all day long, and he knows an anomaly when he sees one. People lie, but the records don't.

He is determined to make Roy Himmel's life make sense, but the deeper he looks, the more it begins to defy all logic.

Although he doesn’t normally leave his department, he finally accepts that he isn’t going to learn any more about the man from his personnel file. He decides to head straight to the staff room to find out what Himmel’s file can’t tell him. Himmel was apparently friendly and well-liked by his colleagues. Karl hasn’t met many people who can resist talking about themselves to their colleagues at least a little bit.

He turns to the most normal of the day shift handlers - Petersen, who isn't likely to string him along for the fun of it.

"Hannah," he starts, plastering a smile on his face. She notices him entering the room, but doesn't lift her head until he approaches the table where her lunch sits, mostly untouched. "Can I ask you a few questions?"

"Is this about Roy?" she asks, amused. A hint of derision colors her words. The handlers always make such a big production of it when one of their own "leaves" the job. Karl suspects it's out of necessity. They're a decently close-knit bunch. No one wants to be associated with the dropouts or failures.

"Yeah." Karl slides into the chair across from her, takes out a notepad. "Did he ever talk to you about his life outside work, what he did on the weekends? Any family, friends, anything?"

Hannah hums in a teasing, speculative sort of way that's entirely intentional, but her eyes wander off to the side in thought and she takes a second too long answering.

"...Well, come to think of it," she says, her brow furrowed slightly. “No. When you were talking to him, you weren’t talking at him, if that makes sense.  If you told him about your girlfriend’s stupid sister getting in your face about what we do here, he’d actually listen, not just nod like he had better things to do. But, now that I think of it, he never really talked about himself.”

“Can you think of anything?” Karl presses. “He had to have mentioned something.”

Hannah picks at her nails as she thinks back to all of her previous interactions with the man. She was hired only a few months after him. Karl doesn’t believe that Himmel managed to avoid talking about himself in the five years since he started working at WRU.

“I don’t think he was very close to his family,” she says, but she doesn’t sound too confident. “He always said he didn’t have any particular plans for the holidays.”

It’s purely speculation, not a fact, and that grates on Karl’s nerves to no end.  

“He wasn’t going out with anyone,” she adds. 

She can’t remember him ever mentioning any hobbies, either, and he has no social media accounts. Nothing. A few stories from his college days, but Karl already knows he attended Syracuse University. That’s nothing groundbreaking. 

Karl has a diploma and the tax documents to prove Roy Himmel is a person who really exists, but he’s beginning to have doubts despite the proof. 

He receives more or less the same answers from the handler who mentored him when he first joined the company. 

“I kinda figured he didn’t want to talk about it for a reason,” Cruz tells him with a shrug.

Karl is grasping for straws when he suggests, “Was he an internal hire?”

An internal hire is someone who was initially in the pet program, who for one reason or another makes a better handler than a trainee. They’re rare, but it happens occasionally, and some of them have already had their memories wiped by the time they transfer roles. It could explain why he never spoke about himself — he might not have remembered anything at all.

“Nah,” Cruz says. “Not as far as I know, though he’s definitely got the looks for it.”

Karl shoves his discomfort with the statement to the back of his mind. Handlers are known for being flippant and crude — it doesn’t matter that this was once a colleague. 

“But he never once said anything about his past? Nothing?”

“Nope. I kind of figured he came from the Midwest, but he’s real good at languages. Can imitate any accent you name, so who really knows? If you asked him where he’s from, he’d just say ‘nowhere interesting’ and turn the question right back at you.”

Great. Nothing but more speculation. For the first time since he started working here, Karl goes home with more questions than answers. 

—

Karl opens a much deeper investigation the next day. He worked for a private investigator for a short time before WRU hired him, so he already knows all the tips and tricks of the trade. WRU holds the certifications and licensing needed to run as thorough a check as anyone can ask for, so all he needs to do is run the queries. 

When he uncovers — or, rather, what he doesn’t uncover — is at once astonishing and completely predictable based on his current progress. 

Roy Himmel didn't exist prior to his enrollment in college. The high school transcripts he used to apply to the school must be fake, and needless to say, no birth certificate exists either.

Any pets that enter the system are erased as people from that point onward, but no one is denying that they once existed and had rights and a life like any other citizen. This situation with Himmel is impossible. People’s pasts don’t just disappear like this — wholly and completely. 

The only reasonable conclusion is that Roy Himmel was a lie all along. 

“In short…who the hell is this guy?” Karl says, flicking the file with a snort. He glances at his manager, Collier, but he seems just as perplexed. “As far as I can tell, Roy Himmel doesn’t exist. Whoever doctored his identity did a pretty good job, but they didn’t go that far back.”

“The question is why he bothered at all,” Collier says, which is a perfectly valid point. As long as there’s nothing egregious about the applicant’s history, WRU’s handler program will hire just about anyone who suits the job. According to the things his coworkers said about him, Himmel never gave off any red flags. If his past was so unsavory he had to hide behind a false identity, Karl doubts he would have been able to come across as so normal and unassuming. 

There’s only one lead Karl has left, which he didn’t think to investigate initially because no one would steal company property, then proceed to hide somewhere as predictable as his home address.

“Wait…where did he live before he moved into company housing?” Karl says with a sense of urgency.

“How am I supposed to know?” Collier replies, vaguely amused as he watches Karl flip through the printouts he compiled. “That’s your job.”

“Right, right,” Karl murmurs, distracted. He pulls out the onboarding documents and searches for Himmel’s permanent address. He had to list one when he was hired. They wouldn’t have accepted a temporary address. And if he has a home address, he can track down everything. 

There. 

“Here. Chicago!” Karl circles the address in triumph. Collier leans forward and whistles as Karl searches the location on the internet. “What is it?”

“That’s on Lincoln Avenue,” Collier points out. “How and why did he end up working here? If he’s from that sort of neighborhood, he should have been a client, not an employee.”

It’s a simple matter to look into the residence’s purchase history, but revealing the name on the deed to the house doesn’t tell him much at first. He already knows Roy Himmel isn’t real. He has no way of knowing if he has any relation to Morgan Seidel, the owner of the house at that address. 

“Okay, not the same guy,” Karl says under his breath. He ran a quick search for one Morgan Seidel, and the results brought up the photo of a tall young man with auburn hair. Apparently, he’s the art director of an art museum in the area. Most importantly, he bears absolutely no resemblance to Himmel. Karl exhales harshly. 

It seems this is a mystery that will take longer than a single afternoon to uncover. As aggravated as it makes him, it’s been so long since a challenge like this one has presented itself at his fingertips.

[jreads]

Unexpected Constellations (Part 00)

Rating: PG

Word Count: 902

Warnings: Mature Language, Light violence, one d!ck joke, mostly just fluff and setting the scene.

A/N: Please check the masterlist for tags. Like or reblog if you enjoy!

Nevarro’s sulfuric smell was near unbearable at this time of rotation. You kept the doors of the Razor Crest closed and the fan blowing at full speed to try and stave off the scent while you waited for the Mandalorian’s return. It was nearing an hour since he had stalked down the steps of the ramp, with a bounty in tow, to collect his payment from Karga. You and the kid had taken to pushing and pulling the small metal ball back and forth to each other through the air to pass the time. It kept him distracted enough to keep from rummaging through the hull for something to eat.

It had been ages since you had encountered another force sensitive being and it was refreshing for it to be someone so… new. Bright. The rest of the galaxy was war-tested and opinionated. Grogu’s mind was at ease, peaceful… apart from when he was hungry of course.

He must have sensed the idea of food in your mind, for the ball went whizzing past you, lodging itself in the panels of the ship’s ramp door.

You hissed an expletive under your breath, whirling, and then slapped a hand over your mouth. You shouldn’t be swearing around the kid, regardless of whether or not he understood the connotations. That being said, Din Djarin was ten times worse. It would only be a matter of time before Grogu’s first words were some warbled version of “Dank farrik.”

Smiling to yourself at the thought, you pushed up from the floor and walked back towards the door to pull the ball free. It didn’t budge.

“Unbelievable kid, how hard did you push this thing?” You yanked at it again. “Vader himself would be astonished.” You’d have to open the door to get it free, which meant accepting a face full of foul air and ruining all the hard work it took to keep the ship smelling halfway as decent. You took a deep breath and cast your gaze sideways at the child. His head was tilted, huge green ears perked, mouth half open. You sighed again, hands on your hips.

“I know what you’re doing.” He had the audacity to look confused. “I can feel your intentions you little green goblin.” He cooed in response.

“Oh, screw it.”

You turned your back on him to press the button and release the bay doors. The ball fell to the floor with a clink, bounced and began to roll. You bent at the waist to pick it up, staring back at the baby through the space between your legs.

The little rascal.

His eyes were narrowed in focus, and the small sack carrying food was slowly lifting from its perch on some stacked crates against the wall. Even with the blood rushing to your head, you could feel the excitement and satisfaction radiating off of him as he masterfully pulled the pack toward him.

You watched for a moment, before finally straightening—only to come face-to-face with a breastplate of pure beskar.

“Fuck!” You jumped, stumbling back a step. A gloved hand reached for your waist to steady you. From behind, a loud thud sounded, followed by a high-pitched cry of joy.

“Clearly you two have been up to no good.” Even through the modulator, you could hear the amusement in his voice. You didn’t fail to notice his hand still rested just above your hip. He didn’t seem inclined to move it.

You motioned behind you with a thumb. “He started it.” The kid squeaked.

Din chucked, the sound low and rough, skittering along your skin and settling somewhere lower. He reached past you to hit the bay door button again. The hydraulics hummed as the ramp began to close. Only when it was fully shut did he let go and move past you.

You turned, gaze following him as he stalked towards the ladder to the cockpit. “How did it go?”

He reached into a pocket and plunked a small pouch of credits down on a nearby crate.

“It’s smaller than I expected.” You mused.

“Can’t say I’ve heard that one before.” He scooped up Grogu, who was now intensely focused on trying to peel a piece of fruit he had extracted from the bag.

“Din Djarin, was that a joke?” You gasped in disbelief, a hand on your chest. “I’m shocked. Really.”

He turned back to you, beskar helmet shaking slightly. “Karga’s holding out on me. Something’s happening in the guild right now.”

“What do you mean?”

He had already started scaling the ladder, baby tucked under one arm. “I’ll explain on our way out.”

You followed him up the ladder, and he extended a hand to help you at the top. “Do we have a heading?” He transferred the kid to your arms, fruit still staining his grubby little hands.

“Not yet, I just want to get out of here first.” He seemed hurried. You strapped yourself into the seat while he started the engines, the ship buzzing and beeping to life around you.

Within minutes, the Razor Crest had lifted from the ground and was gaining altitude. A cacophony of noise had you twisting in your seat to peer out the window back to the ground. The sight had your stomach twisting.

“Din." You spoke to him, not tearing your eyes from the view below. "There’s laserfire.”

He didn’t turn back to look. Instead, he pushed the lever forward, sending the craft shooting out of Nevarro’s atmosphere and into open space.

[wonwoonlight]

overgrown | xu minghao

➝ word count: 6.3k words

➝ florist!Minghao x demigod!reader

➝ demigod!au // florist!au // fluff // slice of life // angst if u squint // nonidol!au

➝ warning: not edited nor proofread kjsdfnjkdsngf, not fantasy au tho hoho

➝ A/N: happy birthday, hao! if you're wondering about how demigods are percieved in this universe, please refer to percy jackson and how the mist make ppl see things they dont wish to understand lol thats basically it. enjoy!!

moving from one place to another has always been easy, but perhaps it's about time you stay.

Being a descendant of Persephone is an experience itself. You have no idea how it happened, but that’s always the case with demigod children, so you don’t really care to understand either. What matters is you’re happy living with your dad in a small apartment downtown big enough just for the two of you.

You’ve just recently moved to Seoul with him; it’s probably only been three months at most and you’re still getting used to the new environment around you. You’re not exactly nomads, but you and him enjoy moving around from one place to another, learning about cultures around the world.

You spent your childhood mostly in Europe, or at least that’s what your dad said because you’re not old enough to remember details. But the first country that your consciousness manages to register is Japan because you lived there until you finished elementary school--the longest you’ve stayed in one country. But even then, you moved from one city to another at least three times throughout the years.

And then you spent junior high school in Singapore before eventually moving to the US once you’re sixteen. Before you came to South Korea, you spent a good four years in Australia for university.

And here you are now, only two months after graduating, already settled in yet another country.

“Are you going to go up again?” your dad asks as he sees you putting on your shoes.

“Yup, gotta take care of my children,” you grin at him.

He rolls his eyes at this, shaking his head in amusement. “As if you can’t grow them back right away if they withered.”

“You’re just jealous I have the power to do that,” you stick out your tongue at him. “And it’s different with planting them from seeds, you know!”

The sound of his laughter is cut off once you shut the door behind you, giddy steps making their way to the elevator almost immediately. One of the main reasons you’ve both chosen this particular complex is because they have a community garden on the rooftop; you’ve fallen in love with the sight of it in an instant the moment they show you the tidy garden that you’ll be free to access because, as far as the management knows, only so few cares about the community garden.

You cringe at the sun the moment you step into the rooftop, the brightness of it blinding your eyes. At least it’s not that hot considering how blinding it is.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you frown when you see a dying flower on one of the pots. You’ve noticed this particular flower since you began tending the garden; a peculiar purple flower that you’ve never seen before. But you quickly dispel any interest towards it because it obviously belongs to someone.

Its pot is beautifully decorated with paints and there’s a big X.M.H. written across the body. You didn’t touch it because you thought the owner must be taking care of it; much like how you don’t dare to tend the few other plants that have names written on the pot.

But this flower is obviously dying and you’ve always been bad at holding yourself back when you see plants about to wither. You wonder if it’s a trait that you inherit from Persephone along with your ability to grow flowers wherever you want. It’s a pretty useless power, if you think about it, and you didn’t even know Persephone has this ability to pass on (because isn’t it supposed to be Demeter’s specialty? Anyway, you’re still related to her one way or another and you’d rather just accept this unique ability than question it). Still, you’re happy with this power even though it doesn’t really help you in your daily lives.

You look around to make sure no one else is on the rooftop before you return to that particular flower; even though you’ve never seen this kind of flower before, you know for sure it hasn’t even bloomed to its best shape yet. Contemplating on what to do, you eventually decide to just go fuck it and resurrect the flower while there’s no one present.

Gently holding the pot with your palms, you focus on it until a soft green light emits around the flower; its stem slowly stands back in place and the vibrant color returns like it wasn’t pitifully dying on its own pot before. You don’t even notice it looks more alive than when you first saw it the day you moved into this place.

You exhale a deep breath after you’re done, the green light long gone after the process is done.

Nothing bad should come out of it… right?

Due to a training workshop you have to attend for your new job, you’ve asked your dad to tend your flowers while you go to Incheon for three days. You would’ve gone back and forth instead of sleeping over in a guest house if you could, but Incheon is way too far and training literally starts at seven thirty for each day.

Why couldn't Persephone just give you the gift of teleportation, really? But, then again, even Hermes’ children don’t have that kind of ability so you can’t really blame her for not blessing you with that.

Anyhow, now that you’re back in Seoul, the first thing you do after washing up is to go up the rooftop to see your children. You honestly doubt your dad actually does as you ask, and you simply hope you don’t have to use your power on them just in the worst case scenario that they all somehow die in the span of three days.

When you open the door, you find someone else busily moving through the garden instead of chilling on the benches for once. You blink at the sight of the lean, tall man, but quickly shrug to yourself and make your way to do your usual round.

You’re just minding your own business as you fill in your water spray on the sink nearby when someone carefully taps your shoulder. You’re not sure why you’re not surprised it’s the same man from earlier.

“Yes?” you smile politely at him.

“Hi,” he greets you with a hesitant smile. “Have you… been tending the garden these days?”

“Oh, right!” you exclaim before you put down the water spray and introduce yourself to him. “I’ve just moved in recently and, yes, I’ve been tending the garden since. I don’t touch plantings that have names on them though!”

The guy nods as he lets out a small ‘ah’ and then takes your hand to shake. “I’m Xu Minghao. You can call me Minghao though. I… usually tend them too, so it’s a surprise to see them so tidy after I’m away.”

You blink at the name. Oh. Xu Minghao. He’s the owner of that flower, isn’t he?

“Um, can I ask you something?” he asks again, his tall posture suddenly making you nervous from your awareness.

“Yeah, sure,” you fake a smile as you turn back to fill your water spray.

“Do you know that purple flower with my initials on the pot?” he shoots straight to it, and you’re glad your back is turned to him because else, he’d see how you close your eyes in contempt.

You hum as you pretend to think about the flower he’s referring to. But Minghao is not easily swayed and he tells you to follow him to see the flower yourself.

Your eyes widen in horror as you see the flower buds opening widely, a shape that you’re sure shouldn’t take place just yet because it hasn’t even been a week since you resurrect it. Did you accidentally grow it more than you should? This is why you should practice, really.

“Has… this been looking like this?” he brings you back to reality, his face confused and somewhat concerned. “I’ve just gone back from my hometown so I haven’t been here for three months and… I don’t think it… should be growing this fast? The buds were only half open when I left.”

“I’m… not sure,” you lie lamely, praying this Minghao guy would brush it off as you being awkward in front of a stranger. “Did you ask anyone to tend it for you? Maybe they give your flower a different fertilizer?”

Minghao shakes his head firmly, arms crossing in front of his chest. “No. I was actually wondering if this particular plant can withhold for months without any fertilizer. I did ask someone to water just once every three days and I told them not to give any kind of fertilizer.”

Oh shit, shit, shit. The one time you decide to mess around helping flowers, it just has to be in this kind of scenario with someone so observant.

“So, uhh, were you expecting it to die or…?” you ask again as you try to act like this has nothing to do with you.

“Wasn’t expecting anything in particular, really,” he sighs, observing you while wondering about the reason behind your fidgeting. Are you just nervous because you don’t know him? Or are you hiding something? “I was just experimenting. My friend tried to grow this flower by crossbreeding two different plants, he’s pretty much done with it so I asked if I can take it with me.”

You nod at the surge of information, unsure why he’s loading this to you. “Have you… always been interested in flowers?”

“I do have a flower shop, if that’s what you’re asking,” he chuckles at your amazed expression. “You should drop by sometimes. You look like you’d appreciate my flowers.”

“Sure,” you happily accept the invitation, lowkey excited to find someone who shares this interest towards plants despite your nervousness from earlier. “Not easy to find someone else that cares about plants other than myself.”

Minghao chuckles again as he agrees with you, and then gives you his business card so you can visit him sometime.

“Maybe my friend did something during the crossbreeding process,” he continues, still looking at the flower curiously.

“You should go ask your friend,” you reply a little too quickly, making Minghao turn to you as his eyes observe you with something that you can’t quite decipher. You’re not sure if the sudden rush in your heartbeat is because you’re scared he’ll somehow figure out what you’re hiding, or you’re simply nervous because his gaze seems to be fixated on you.

Xu Minghao is pretty pleasing to the eyes, if you may say it yourself, and pretty people always intimidate you. Not that you mind him though.

“Yeah, I should,” he quietly replies, wondering if he’s simply imagined the edge on your voice.

The next time you see Minghao, it’s only been a few days since then and it’s a complete accident even though it’s you who step into his shop yourself.

“Oh?” you blink at the familiar person behind the station. “Hi?”

Minghao looks up from the flower arrangement in his hands, not hearing the door opens and closes because he’s too focused on the task. “Hi?”

“Didn’t know this was your shop,” you smile a little as your eyes wander around the flower shop. It’s a pretty humble place, though it’s quite big for a shop run by (presumably) Minghao himself. You don’t see any other person in sight, but there are two closed doors you can see from where you’re at and who knows if there are other people there.

“Threw away my business card, did you?” he smiles playfully, walking around his table to walk closer to you.

“Nah, just have a very bad navigation skill,” you grin, telling him you’d have no idea where his store is even if you turn on your GPS. “And it’s only been a few days, wouldn’t it be weird if I immediately come here?”

“Why would it be weird?” he frowns a little, though his smile doesn’t falter. “I did invite you here.”

You simply shrug at that, telling him it just would feel so as your feet take you to explore.

Minghao lets the silence linger after that, observing the way you fit so well between the shelves of his flowers. He’s probably imagining it, but it almost feels like the flowers are closing in everytime you pass by, welcoming you like you’re one of their own.

It’s beautiful. And it’s weird--because as much as he loves his flower shop, he never thinks he’d see a scene so beautiful in this sense. He’s an artistic person and it’s both too often and rare that he deems something beautiful. He has a particular standard that he himself isn’t even sure of. But this? The sight of you walking around his flower shop, fingertips gently touching the soft buds of his flowers while you smile and curiously look at each and every one of them?

He can’t be more certain that it’s beautiful.

“When did you open this shop?” your voice jumps him back to reality, though he’s glad that you don’t seem like you notice he’s been staring at you.

“Just last year,” he nods to himself, the happiness of finally opening his own flower shop still clear in his mind.

“Do you manage this by yourself?” you ask again, more interested than you thought you were.

The guy hums at this, his gaze automatically follows you when you step to the buds section. “I have two part-timers. Don’t really need a full time helper just yet.”

He thinks he hears you say something about how lucky he is, but he doesn’t get any chance to reply yet when you ask him about the ‘baby flowers’--your words not his--section.

Minghao steps closer to you, telling you it’s there for him to grow if no one buys them.

“Mostly, people come here to buy bouquets. But I thought there’d be no loss in putting them there just in case there are people who want to grow their own flowers,” he smiles, more to himself than to you.

You can’t help the warm feeling that envelopes you; you’ve always had a soft spot for people who appreciate flowers. Maybe it’s the few things Persephone gifts you, maybe it comes with your power--anyhow, someone who seems to love them as much as you do is hard to come by, and Minghao is easily the first person who shares the amount of love you have for these little beings.

“What flowers are these?” you lean down to look at closed buds.

“It’s a surprise,” he shrugs. “Even I don’t remember which seeds I put inside the soils even though we should have an idea by the time it grows a little more. I want these people to appreciate flowers as they are, you know?”

“That’s weirdly philosophic,” you chuckle a little, taking one of the pots in your hands. Minghao laughs at that, turning back to his table because his phone is ringing.

Your eyes widen in shock as the light starts to emit around the buds, so you quickly put it back down where it belongs before you shove your palms to the pocket of your jeans. Thankfully, whoever’s at the phone is holding Minghao back just enough until the light fades away before he’s back on your side.

If he notices your sudden tense posture, he doesn’t say anything. But, by the way he’s frowning and the slight ‘hm?’, you’re sure he notices something different in one of the buds in front of him, so you quickly say you just remembered you have somewhere to be and it’s been a pleasure coming here.

“I’ll drop by again some time. See you around!” You hurriedly say with a smile and a wave of your hand. Minghao doesn’t even get the chance to wave back because you’re already out of the door.

He drops his hand back to his side, looking at the curious bud that’s weirdly more grown than the others. He’s pretty sure he puts them all at the same time, so how come it’s the only one with its buds half open?

It’s been some time since you get close to someone as easily as you do with Minghao. You’re pretty sure that your shared interest in plants makes up 70% of your conversation, but it’s still enough for you to consider Minghao a good friend now, and you usually either talk to him on the rooftop, or in his flower shop as you drop by after work.

Plus, he’s pretty easy in the eyes and seeing him after a long day at work definitely helps.

Today’s quite tiring though, because your meeting drags on to the point where you miss your usual bus and you have to wait for half an hour until the next one comes again.

You figure you should just go home and rest, because tomorrow you have to get to the office early and you can’t afford another sleepless night when you’re this burnt. But still, when you pass by Minghao’s shop only to see lights still on, you can’t help but knock and come in.

It’s almost six thirty now, doesn’t he usually close by five?

“Why are you still here?” you ask as you step into the store, greeting Chan and Chaeyoung, his part-timers, who are still struggling with the flowers on the floor. “It’s already dark outside.”

“Wedding later at 9,” he simply replies with a sigh. “We’ve just started an hour ago and we could’ve finished this by seven but... there’s a problem and we’re… still trying to figure it out.”

“What problems?”

“The bride wants white and pink roses only, everything rationed 1:1. But, turns out, some of our white roses aren’t as white as she wants and she insists that we somehow have to make it works and… well, we even tried ordering white roses from another vendor but some of them still aren’t as white when compared to the one she...approved of,” he rubs his temple, obviously frustrated.

You bite down your lip as you see them and the pile of flowers surrounding them. They would probably need to work for an hour or two more at this point, and it’s all just because of this one annoying client.

This is a problem that you can easily fix, you think as you contemplate on what to do. How can you convince these guys that you have a way to help them without them being suspicious?

“Have you guys eaten?” you ask instead. At Chan’s groan, you immediately tell them they should take a small break and rest while they’re at it.

“We can’t,” Chaeyoung sighs tiredly. “I’d be too anxious to take a break too. We have to send this before eight.”

“All because we’re missing 17 white roses,” Chan adds, cracking his neck from side to side.

“I can help,” you finally say, feeling bad at how tired they all sound. Minghao and the others turn to you, and you gulp hardly before you tell them you have a friend who would probably be able to help, but that you need to borrow one of the roses just to make sure the color won’t be wrong too.

Chan asks if your friend is far, because it’ll be no use if it’ll take long for the flower to arrive. What more lies can you sprout in this case, really?

“Just… trust me?” you try to negotiate. Chan and Chaeyoung seem too tired to argue anyway, but Minghao’s curious eyes piercing through yours isn’t something that you know how to handle. Still, despite the way your ears are getting red from his gaze, you do your best to hold his gaze. For once you can actually use your power to help someone in need and you can’t even do it openly.

Talk about useful.

“Okay,” Minghao finally says. “Should I come with you?”

“No!” you answer too quickly. “You should continue and take a little break. I promise I’ll come back with your roses.”

Minghao doesn’t seem like he wants to agree, but he nods anyway and simply tells you to be careful on your way before he thanks you in advance. He’s a little doubtful, truly unsure how you can help with this. But you look so certain, and he knows you enough to know that you’re not the type to say things without meaning to.

And true to your words, not fifteen minutes later, you’ve come back with the exact white shade of roses that he needs. Chan hugs you in relief and Chaeyoug actually peppers you with kisses because you’ve apparently saved them from hell. You simply chuckle at that, though your eyes avoid his when he steps closer to thank you again.

“Eh, consider it your lucky day,” you scrunch your nose at him, telling him your friend has a bunch of them in his place. He wonders if he’s imagining the edge on your voice when he asks if your friend’s nearby because he doesn’t recall any other flower shop that would allow you to be back in less than fifteen minutes.

“Oh, umm… It’s not a flower shop,” you fidget from one foot to another. “He just grows them in his garden.”

“And he just lets you… take them?”

“I owe him a big favour of course. But it’s okay,” you laugh awkwardly. “He’s a very good friend and he understands.”

Minghao hums at this, a sound that makes you more nervous, if anything. He takes one of the flowers in his hand, observing them carefully as he wonders why these flowers feel different than any flower he’s seen. It does feel familiar though he can’t really tell either. Perhaps he’s just imagining things.

Simply said, it just doesn’t make sense to Minghao; none of these are. Anyone who might have grown this many roses wouldn’t give them so willingly unless the person is just that close to you, or they don’t grow them themselves and have no attachment whatsoever with the flowers.

Still, he’s in a hurry and he doesn’t have the time to ponder this just yet. So he simply squeezes your shoulder and thanks you once more then goes back to work. With your flowers, he should be able to finish this in 30 minutes or so and he’s going to do just that.

Almost exactly 30 minutes later, the guys actually finish the order on time. Chan and Chaeyoung quickly hop into the van with the flowers to go to the venue, giddy about the prospect of finishing this one hell of a job (though it’s only prompted by the client, to be honest). At least they just need to deliver this, it’s the wedding organizer’s job to place them accordingly.

So Minghao tells Chan to just bring the van home if he wants to, that he’ll close up for the day and the younger guy can just bring it back tomorrow. Chan happily agrees with the arrangement, then waves goodbye at you both before he takes off with Chaeyoung.

“I’ll help you close up,” you offer, not even waiting for his answer. Funny though, weren’t you tired from work? And now here you are, offering yourself for more work.

“It’s fine,” Minghao says once he catches up with you, gently circling his fingers around your wrist to stop you from cleaning up the table. “You must be tired from work and you’ve helped enough. If you want to help, just sit down and order food for me? Unless you’re going back home to eat with your dad.”

“Dad is out with his friends,” you tell him as you take out your phone. “I’d rather eat with you than by myself back home.”

The guy chuckles at this, the soft sound that you’re already used to and one that always manages to lift the corner of your lips. You don’t think anyone has ever had this effect on you before. But it’s Xu Minghao and you’ve learned that this guy is special in any possible way.

“What do you feel like eating?” you ask as you scroll through the delivery app. After contemplating for ten minutes, you eventually decide to just order from this Chinese takeout that Minghao often eats at.

“It’s pretty authentic,” he comments, telling you he orders from them every time he misses his hometown.

You nod as you listen to him talk about his hometown, how he moves to South Korea and why. So you tell him too about your story; the time you spend moving here and there, how it’s fun and it makes you all the more appreciative to the culture around you, but still a little lonely because you keep on changing friends and surroundings.

You can tell that Minghao is curious about your mom though he doesn’t say anything about it, but you can only hope that he has enough sense not to mention her--at least not now. You usually just say your mom has left a long time ago, which isn’t that far from reality if you think about it, but there’s something about Minghao that makes you feel like you don’t want to lie to him. Maybe it’s his scrutinizing eyes, maybe you’re just into him more than you think you are, but whatever it is, there’s this urge to always be honest with Minghao no matter what.

You throw your weight back to the wheeled chair on the back of the cashier, swaying yourself from side to side as Minghao tells you to wait here because he needs to do something in the back.

Now that everything’s practically done and you finally have the time to stop and unwind, you can feel the exhaustion settling inside your body. It has been a long day after all, but the thought of using your power to help someone--Minghao, on top of that--got you a little too giddy that you forgot about how tired you were even for a while. Plus, it’s been some time since you grow this many flowers at once that you’re exerting more energy than you usually would.

Oh well. You’re just happy you’re finally able to help someone with your power.

You glance at the potted plant next to the cashier machine, probably there for aesthetic reasons. It’s just a small, potted white orchid with pink accents adorning the flowers. You’re just about to reach out for it, your fingertips barely even touching it, when it’s suddenly surrounded by a soft pink glow.

You quickly sit up in panic, praying to everything out there that Minghao wouldn’t return now and--

“Hey, has the food arr--was the flower...glowing?” he blinks mid sentence, wondering if he sees wrong. He’s pretty sure he saw pink-ish light surrounding his orchid for a split second before it’s gone just like that. Is he more tired than he thinks he is?

Minghao isn’t sure what to make of your panicked look, but he’s even more confused with the way you look like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t.

Fortunately for you, someone knocks on the glass door, announcing that the food you’ve ordered is here. Before you can offer, Minghao already goes to take the food, leaving you there to take a deep breath.

You’re so screwed, what do you even tell him?! Maybe you should try to convince him he’s seeing things even though the chance is pretty low. Xu Minghao is one of the most observant people you’ve ever seen in your life after all.

“Do you want to eat here or?” He asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I don’t mind anywhere,” you shrug. So Minghao quietly drags another chair and sits across you, waiting for you to finish taking the containers out of the plastic bag.

He wonders if he should bring up the pink light from earlier, but the grumbling of his stomach tells him he should eat first and do it later.

“Oh!” You exclaim after your first bite, turning to Minghao. “This is very good? I don’t even usually like vegetables?”

Minghao laughs at your expression, something fond growing inside his chest as you keep on humming appreciatively everytime you take a bite. So far, a relationship has never been his priority, and it’s still not--but there are times when he’s started to wonder how it’ll be like to be involved romantically with you.

He’s lying if he says he considers you nothing but a friend; he doesn’t think about his friends like he does you, doesn’t smile at the thought of his friends right before he goes to bed, and he definitely doesn’t silently wish his friend would appear behind the closed rooftop door of his apartment when the day has been long and he wishes to unwind.

“What?” your voice brings him back to reality, and he calmly raises his eyebrow as if he hasn’t been boring holes into you.

“Nothing,” he says nonchalantly. “Just been some time since I eat dinner with someone else.”

“You don’t go out with your friends for dinner?” you ask, genuinely curious.

He nods, telling you his close friend works at the bar so it’s hard to find time to eat dinner together unless he goes there himself.

“You can join me and Dad some time,” you offer. “Dad always cooks so much so we end up eating the same thing for dinner and breakfast. Or maybe we can go try this restaurant in Hongdae next time, my coworker says it’s really pretty and it has an art studio at the back.”

Minghao holds back the urge to ask if you’re asking him on a date and settles for a smile and a nod, still not sure if you return the sentiments he's holding for you. As far as he knows, you just might be this warm and friendly to everyone you’re comfortable with. He cringes at how the thought stings a bit.

“This orchid is really pretty you know,” you say again, looking at the potted flower as if it didn’t freak you out just earlier. “How did you grow it this well? Aren’t orchids hard to take care of?”

He frowns and follows your line of sight, and then leans forward to take a careful look at the flower in surprise.

Minghao looks at it with a puzzled face, blinking continuously before he reaches forward to gently touch the flower buds. He doesn’t even answer when you ask if he’s okay, simply draws back his finger in surprise once it touches the orchid in question.

“Hao…?”

“Can you… touch it? And tell me how it feels?”

You comply, albeit confused at the request. “Okay…? It’s soft…?”

“It’s not stiff?”

“No…? Are they supposed to be stiff?”

His voice, purely laced with confusion, calls out your name, looking at you with a mix of bewilderment and pleasant surprise. “They’re supposed to be plastic.”

At the revelation, you stare at him in horror. That’s why it glowed pink. You had never encountered pink lights before; you know green appears when you resurrect or help plants grow, blue is for guarding fruits from insects, and yellow is to make sure the soil and the roots stay hydrated even if no one waters it. You don’t really like using your power unless you really need to, because there’s a different kind of satisfaction when you manage to grow them on your own without the help of, in a way, Persephone.

But pink? Even you thought you saw wrong.

In shock, you reach forward to touch the flower once more, only to have it glow green and rise a few centimeters from its original place.

You share a shocked look with Minghao, though he can tell there’s more than shock behind your eyes.

“I… um--I…” you stutter, feeling the need to defend yourself before Minghao gets the wrong idea.

No one but your dad knows about your power, not even Chaerin who you consider your closest friend. Once, you accidentally grew flowers in the playground in front of the other kids; you were only five and your power had only started to show. You can still remember the look of terror in their eyes, one of them cried so loud that their parents came to see what happened. They were unsure why the kid would cry when all she mentioned was you and flowers. Still, they figured you must’ve done something to the kid if she wouldn’t stop crying. You stopped coming to the playground shortly after that.

And then another case happened somewhere during junior high school. You had just gotten close to this girl and she told you about how much she wanted to see cherry blossom but couldn’t afford to go to Japan just to see them. So you thought you might as well make it happen, but when you gave her a cherry blossom bonsai that you made yourself, she told you you’re a fraud and there’s no way this could grow in a tropical country.

You figure your dad was right when he said not everyone would understand about your power even though flowers are harmless. Humans have the tendency to refuse to understand things that don’t make sense like your power.

Minghao looks around in surprise as he sees all of his flowers rowdily glowing different shades of lights. He doesn’t know for sure what on earth is happening, but if the fear in your eyes and some other things that have happened in your presence tell him anything, his flowers are probably resonating with the sudden wave of your emotion. You don’t seem to notice this though, fearful eyes only focused on him.

“Hey, it’s fine,” he says despite the loud ringing of his heartbeat. He slowly reaches for your hands, telling you to inhale and exhale at his cue to help you calm down. This seems to help, as the flowers have stopped glowing and the slight tremor in your hands has calmed too. “It’s fine, okay?”

You nod at this, hardly gulping as you ready yourself for what’s to come.

Minghao seems to notice this though, and then slowly stands up to kneel next to you, his long legs allowing him to still look at you comfortably.

“I promise you don’t need to be afraid,” he gently says as he takes your hands back in his, his soft tone soothing your heartbeat. “You don’t need to explain anything to me, but I’ll listen to anything you want to say, okay?”

You nod again before you squeeze his hands for comfort. You take a few more minutes to completely calm down, the warmth radiating from Minghao’s palms helping you in ways you don’t think possible. There’s a soft, patient smile on his face when you finally look back at him and tell him to take the seat next to you before you start explaining. So he does exactly that and doesn’t miss a second to hold your hands yet again once he’s settled next to you.

In a world this big, Minghao has always thought anything is possible. He doesn’t want to say he doesn’t believe in this and that, because who does he think he is to judge the existence of one thing and the other?

Still, it’s a lot to take in that a descendant of Persephone is in front of his very eyes. You even make a little daffodil appear out of nowhere on your palm, as if to prove you’re not messing around. He knows you’re not though, not because of your little showcase, but because the pure fear in your eyes can’t lie.

“It’s… freaky, right?” you laugh bitterly, looking down on the daffodil on your palm.

“I think you mean to say beautiful,” he says after a beat, not wanting to say the wrong thing. “You’re lucky to have the power to help these creatures grow, you know? They’re not like us humans, or even animals, that can defend themselves when it comes to it. You must be really special to be able to help them grow and protect them with your power.”

You look up in surprise at his words, and Minghao can’t help but smile wider in hope it’ll bring you comfort and convince you that he’s not just saying things.

“You know how much I love them, right? And I want you to know how envious I am of your gift,” he continues good-naturedly, telling you how he wishes he could’ve helped these plants like you can. “Like the way you helped my withered flower grow back, remember? You did that, didn’t you? I should thank you, really, you help me see what’s possibly the most beautiful flower I’ve ever seen in my life. My friend said he didn’t even know that flower could grow into that shape.”

“You’re not… afraid of me?” your small voice rings through the empty shop and his heart stings at how afraid you still sound even though he has never let go of your hands once.

“Why would I be?” he reassures you. “I just told you I’m envious of you, silly.”

You bite your lip at his words, unsure how to take this reaction. After hiding this for so long, you had never thought there would be anyone who understands--who will be holding your hands after seeing what happened earlier. But you’re not exactly surprised that Minghao will be the person to do this. If there’s anyone who would be willing to try to understand the unthinkable, it’s Xu Minghao. He doesn’t judge. He just listens and he accepts.

You squeeze his hands in gratitude, unable to say the words out loud at how overwhelming the whole thing is for you. Minghao seems to get it, though, as he always does. And when he takes one of your hands to drop a soft kiss on your knuckle, you know for sure that’s his way of telling you this is just the beginning of everything and more.

©wonwoonlight – all rights reserved.

very unimportant A/N: at some point i was so fascinated with ancient greek myth and i was basically obsessed w Persephone and I actually covered Circe for my thesis hoho