#the way his eyes flicker back to brown i cant talk about it. i cant.

[soapels]

gratitude

simon “ghost” riley x female reader

you’re always the one thanking ghost, and though he likes to tease you for it, he thinks it’s about time he starts showing you his own gratitude.

content: suggestive themes, slight violence, ghost is tsundere but really cares about reader!

notes: sorry guys i had to post this for a second time since there was a bug before!! i unfortunately cant put a read more option so…🥲 anyway. no smut this time!! but in the next fic (soap), u can count on it!!

“Heads up, soldier.”

You wince just in time to narrowly miss an item to the face, hand reacting- clasping- and promptly dropping whatever the hell he threw your way.

Glancing up with an attempt at a glare (but your lips are curling and you can’t ever really be mad at him), your gaze meets your Lieutenant’s, inscrutable as always, brown eyes glinting beneath his mask.

“Brilliant catch, Y/n.”

“Oh, c’mon!!” You whine, fighting back a big grin as you finger for the object (some sort of food, you surmise without looking) fallen in your lap. And you stand, then, striding casually over to Ghost. “Your aim isn’t so good outside of snipers and pistols- don’t blame it on me!”

You’ve got the feeling his brow is quirked beneath the skull extension. That he’s battling a smile of his own and, when you nab him playfully against his shoulder- flashing him that cute little scrunched nose of yours- he nearly loses.

“That so?” He’s not convinced. You huff, “yeah! Ought to put you back in selection, I think!”

He hums, low and brief at that. And you can tell there’s some jest there, can vaguely recognize the humor he’s trying to convey, but it comes out clipped and sort of weird, like he’s not so sure how to do it the right way.

“I think,” he starts, in that thick Manchester accent, idly adjusting the big gun strapped to his chest, “I was aimin’ for your head, and hit right on target.”

Once it clicks, you huff and spin away. “Oh, you jerk.”

And on your way out of the wrecked, dusty room- “Didn’t even check it, did ya?”

Looking down, deciding to bite your tongue- partly out of obedience but mainly out of curiosity, you pause in your tracks.

Clutched in your fingers is a bar of Hershey’s.

“Oh,” you breathe. If you’re blushing, you do (hopefully) good not to show it, blinking away the delicate warmth of your cheeks as you sniff and belatedly turn around to face your statuesque Lieutenant. Owlish, you are.

The two words are simple enough, but they somehow get stuck in your gums regardless and the faint awkwardness of Ghost’s stance doesn’t go unnoticed either. He’s stiff and heavy and big but the sun leaking in through the busted windows coats him in a sort of tenderness. Makes him sunnier than he really is, paints all his red in yellow, washes his death away in a river of gold.

You smile good. “Thank you.”

He grunts in acknowledgment, giving you a frank nod before he clears his throat and lets his shoulders slump some. “No trouble. Found it in a pile of dust. Thought you might like it.”

You huff for the umpteenth time. Still, can’t snuff out the little grin that pulls up your cheeks, so you turn away and shake your head. “C’mon, Simon, just say you’re welcome or somethin’… Ain’t that hard.”

There’s a beat of silence before you walk to the door, but you pause once more. Feel like you should, like something was holding you back there- some unseen force gripping you in place like a vice.

“I… won’t get poisoned if I eat this?”

He makes a halfhearted sort of scoff. “Hope not.”

“Ghost!”

“Nah,” he finally answers.

The fun’s over, the flesh of the joke was dragged on for as long as it could be. And the dust settles over the room again, on his shoulders and the muzzle of his glinting gun. His brown eyes flicker down to it as he talks to you, figures he ought to stare at something other than you like he has been for the entirety of five minutes.

“You like sweet things, don’t ya? Eat up, then, we’ve got a ways to go before home.”

You don’t have to say anything. It’s not a necessity and- of all people in the world- Ghost wouldn’t take offense if you left wordless.

“…Thank you,” you say anyway. Tender, more soft than the previous time, but you can’t find it in you to look him in the eye right now for some odd reason.

“Already said that, pet.”

“W-Well, I said it again.”

“That ya did.”

Then, after a heavy stretch of spoiling silence, you do leave.

♡

He’s not very good at controlling his temper, even after all the management.

If that wasn’t obvious before, it’s being made abundantly clear now, Ghost a towering fortress as he stands between you and the enemy who managed to weasel in through the back.

You’re not so sure what the guy’s saying, mostly due to the ringing in your ears, the shock of it all- but the fact that he’s speaking another language certainly doesn’t help your case.

Squirming on the floor in a puddle of his blood, the man chokes back a cry as Ghost lowers himself to one knee beside him.

Slow. Calculated. Ghost knows what will happen, and he has no qualms about it.

“¡Solo déjame ir, vamos, estaba siguiendo órdenes! Malditos pedidos! ¡Solo déjame! No diré una palabra…”

You don’t know what he’s saying—

“D-Déjame ser.”

But Lieutenant’s brushed up on his Spanish.

From your spot behind Simon, half curled up in a ball with your pistol lying a few feet away on the tile, you watch something glint in the moonlight.

“lo haré.”

A blade, your brain quickly supplies, but before you can think much of it- there’s a sickening stab, sharp meeting something spongey- a hushed scream (lost in Simon’s gloved hand)- and a dying gurgle.

Simon intakes a shaky breath. Slowly shifts, drawing his knife to his pocket, tosses a calm glance over his shoulder at you.

Stands to his feet and, for a blistering, ever fleeting moment, you feel vaguely afraid of the hulking man standing over you.

“Tell me you’re alright,” is all he says, though, extending a hand- his clean one- out to you.

You exhale, breath almost as shaky as his. And you take it.

“I’m alright.” You whisper.

♡

He’s… softer later.

After you’ve showered and your hair smells of honey and something else sweet, a fluffy towel wrapped around your nakedness as you emerge from the bathroom.

Propped against the wall opposite the door, clad in civvies, Ghost’s brown eyes meet yours- faintly tired- and go blank.

Realization kicks in, for the both of you.

“Bloody hell,” he sort of snaps, “forgot your clothes, have you?”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt improperly, smaller hands scrabbling to secure your towel as you take a timid step back, shrinking halfway behind the shower room’s door. He doesn’t really face you as he says,

“No need… S’pose I don’t quite belong here anyway, do I?” It’s not rhetorical; with a mad blush to your cheeks (that you cannot blink away this time), you hear him clear his throat.

“I wanted to…”

He’s chewing on the words he has to say. But it’s hard to say. Awkward, too- and the situation is already uncomfortable enough, he can tell he caught you well off guard- if your skittering stance and darting eyes were the least bit credible.

(To his defense, he thought you’d be fully clothed- at the very least in a tanktop or sweats- and prepared. And to yours- you thought most if not all of your fellow soldiers would be in a deep sleep by now, if the clock that read three am was still working, and you forgot your nightwear anyway.)

So he just chews and chews and chews.

“Earlier,” but he does find his way again, albeit somewhat uneasy. “That bastard got you good,” he says gruffly, dark eyes meeting yours for a moment across you. Anger spikes in him at the recent memory. “…Your ankle feel alright?”

“Oh,” you breathe, throwing a thoughtful glance down to the gnarly, blossoming bruise peeking out from the short towel. Managing a sheepish, somewhat tired smile his way, you nod.

“Mm, I’m alright. I told you, ‘member?”

And that little, charming grin that burrows somewhere deep within his chest.

“I do,” he eventually confirms.

Beads of water run down your shoulders- he catches one slipping down your chest, between the valley of those gorgeous breasts before disappearing under the damn towel. And your hair is wet, stray strands plastered to your forehead, curls sticking at your cheekbones, you look something of an angel, all doe-eyed and vaguely embarrassed, trying hard to keep it all in check. Your cheeks are a healthy flush from the cold water.

You glow like a sweetheart and Ghost, he- He stands as still as a dead thing in the awful fluorescence of the hall. 

The better part of his rationality strikes him next.

He quickly turns away, adjusting his balaclava before tucking his hands in his pockets, and he won’t let you glimpse his face as he points a foot in the direction of where he presumedly came from.

“Well, glad to hear, Sergeant. Could afford to lie better, though.”

You huff fondly, nibbling on the insides of your cheeks. “What,” you say, just before he can force out his parting words and leave you. “You came to help me or somethin’?”

He’s quiet for one long second.

“…You gonna tell me no?”

You smile, all sheepish, but partly entertained. “No.”

You want to believe it’s a stubborn grin curling under his mask when he glances over to you once more, because his eyes seem to glint pleasantly and the breath he takes in isn’t so controlled. 

“You get dressed then, yeah? Put on somethin’; come once you’re ready.” He tells you, voice a fond rumble in the odd flicker or two of the fluorescence overhead. 

“O-Okay,” you agree rather quickly, inching out some from the doorway, steam rising from behind you like a tidal wave as you timidly add, “I-It’s late though-? Don’t you wanna sleep?”

Searching for any reason why he can’t take you, why harboring you in his bunkroom may be a bad idea, why he may regret it.

Not that you’re planning on anything devious- like childishly knocking him in the shoulder or reaching for his mask, or ripping the sheets from his bed, even- just that you’d hate to fuck up around your strong Lieutenant, and you know his grouchiness is often heightened when he’s low on rest.

“Can you sleep?” He counters back.

You inaudibly clear your throat, fingers gently fiddling with the hem of your towel and Simon watches it all cautiously as you belatedly meet his eye. “I’ll change.”

Your nod is returned, and he shortly leaves. “You do that.”

The whole way back to the room you’d been assigned to, you limp.

♡

You come back to him in a snug tanktop and striped pajama pants that graciously hide the ugly bruises just at the bone of your ankle.

One knock, two knock—

Except, the door’s opening before your knuckles can meet it for a third time.

He performs a quick once-over of you, skimming over the casual nightwear— he hopes not lingering at your breasts (though it’s like they’re gawking at him, and it’s not often he sees you in these sort of clothes)- and huffing lowly.

“In,” is his simple invitation. And just like his hand earlier at El Asilo, you take it.

The room-situation here is temporary— it always is— and though the lot of you haven’t stayed here for over a week, you think the small space even smells of him. Something faintly woodsy, shampoo and residual gunpowder clinging to his hair beneath the balaclava.

“I like it,” you say after spinning around every which way, looking at the wonderful blank walls to the right, and the lonely cot to the left, and the lack of color and decoration to the cookie-cutter room.

He makes a half-amused huff at that. “That right? It’s just like yours, I’m sure… Nothin’ brilliant behind the door?”

You nod, somewhat sleepy, before approaching the mattress a couple feet off the floor, pushed to the wall. 

“Nothin’ brilliant,” you parrot- “S’it okay if I sit?”

His eyes, ever inscrutable beneath that damn mask, skim over you, and maybe it’s just the exhaustion but you find an odd twinkle in them- like Simon’s really seeing something in you, unconsciously filtering out the badder parts, looking at you in this dazzling sort of light.

You are awash in a gentle jest and the spirals of your hair still glow from the shower, your cheeks carved by a soft smile- which he then realizes is quite timid. You’re tense.

This is your Lieutenant’s room, and if anyone sees you in it with him at this ungodly hour, they may get the wrong idea…

But Simon doesn’t want either of you walking on eggshells. So, with a half-assed jerk of his chin towards his bed, he says, striding forward,

“Have at it, I’ll get your leg operating again, no worries.”

“It is operating,” you counter harmlessly, belatedly settling back onto his sheets. He snatches a kit from the top of his dresser and meets you again, dropping to a kneel before you.

It’s silent for a while as he opens it up, though not a bad silence, by any means, before his dark, inscrutable eyes flicker up to yours. “…I’ll just wrap it for ya,” he starts almost timidly, before giving his throat a good clear. “Be good as new before y’know it.”

You smile down at him, teeth peeking through your lips like glittering pearls for a moment before your shyness takes over and you blink away. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“You say that a lot,” he mutters.

“Say it ‘cause I mean it,” you counter pleasantly.

He huffs at that, plucking out a roll of gauze before unraveling some in his hands, positioning it up to your ankle. He almost cringes at the bruise there, the idea of you walking with so much pain, but merely responds with,

“Well,… gratitude looks good on ya, pet.”

You’re blushing to your ears. “T-Thanks. You too…”

Simon glances at the flustered expression you wear, your incoherent words that made no proper sense, and fully realizes what he just said, quickly refocusing his attention back on your ankle.

Feels his heart palpitate… Tries to recount if he had any caffeine earlier. (And he didn’t. A good part of him already knew that.)

Your eyes are trained to the ceiling like a silent martyr as Ghost’s hands, big and callous, gently hold your ankle up, decorating the dark galaxy there with white bandage.

“Like a champ,” he compliments your endurance, and yes, your chest does tighten.

…He ties the bandage off after a bit, slowly trailing his gaze up to yours.

“There… All done,” he says.

But the words take their time to exit his throat, because he distinctly realizes the job has been done, and you’ll be leaving him soon. And then he’ll close his door, lock it for good measure, and pretend to be asleep for an hour rather than thinking about you, and the way your name sounds, and how gorgeous you are all hidden away in his heart.

You smile again, lips parting sheepishly—

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

You pause. Your cheeks are burning up a fever but the longer you fidget, the more you feel inclined to spit something out. So you do.

“Sweetheart?” You mimic, “…Guess I’m not so low on Simon Riley’s list of good things?”

He scoffs. There’s a hint of a grin curling beneath his mask but you’d never know. It’s supposed to be that way. Why he wears it. Now, he’s wondering what you’d say should he take it off and show you.

He shrugs halfheartedly. “Eh. Could rank better.” He jokes, and he knows you have to stay for a bit longer now- if only to try and get the last word in, to defend your dignity— no, your relationship with Ghost.

And he’s right.

“Simon, you jerk!” You beam, fighting off a mad grin and losing awfully, hands trying desperately to wipe it away. He’s glad they can’t, still at his knees before you, those dark eyes drinking every glowing part of you in.

“You’re so mean to me sometimes,” you murmur, and he just hums all casual like the bastard he is, tucking the gauze back away.

“Maybe you deserve it, a bit more common sense couldn’t hurt ya, yeah?”

You quirk a brow at that, tilting your head like a confused puppy. You couldn’t help but notice the strange undercurrent there, even though you knew he was only teasing.

“Is that some fancy british way of calling me stupid?”

His jaw shifts from beneath the balaclava, his eyes softening some. “No, pet,” he pats your thigh, then, before rising to his feet, growing like a shadow over you.

“It’s my way of saying I bloody hope you don’t waltz into just any man’s room at night… Is danger a foreign concept to ya?”

He’s still joking- his back facing you as he goes to return the kit- you know that, but—

Your smile falters ever so slightly. “You’re not a foreign concept to me,” your cheeks are still hot and they feel rosy. “You’re my….”

This makes him turn around, deep-chestnut hues surveying you closely, yet distantly too, like he’s ready to run at any given moment. It frightens you.

“Go on…”

Like he’s ready to harden over again.

Your cheeks puff with a cheery little smile. And you stand, though rather uncoordinatedly, from the bed.

The mattress groaning beneath you, you sweep a hand up through the air to point a confident finger at his chest.

“You’re my favorite Lieutenant. My Simon Riley.”

He turns to you fully, then. His body a stoic wall of something you could never read, and his eyes betray nothing as they flicker and spark against yours. He strides forward, all the way forward, ‘til the hard muscle of his chest beneath his shirt digs into the pad of the finger you point.

For a split second, you think you’ve wronged him.

Simon just reaches up, though, taking your jittery hand in his, lowering it down between you. And he presses himself closer, his hot breath puffing past his mask and warming the tip of your nose as he says,

“That’s right, doll… All yours.”

And when you hesitantly go to inch the lower half of his balaclava up, that harmless curiosity winning out as your eyes drop to his mouth, you find a subtle grin there.

Simon leans in even more, every shaking breath he takes mingling with yours as he dips his head in, whispering, in that gruff rumble that has your tummy spiraling,

“Long as you’re all mine.”

His lips touch with yours, slowly crashing- a controlled, yet frenetic dance of your mouth against his, slightly inexperienced, though the passion there triumphs. His hands are at your hips before you know it, feeling you up, getting to know you in the way he’s wanted to for months now, but never had the proper balls to.

It’s mostly soft at first, gentle, eager pecks and suckles at your mouth— but when your breasts smack flush against his chest and he groans, earning a delicious little whine from you, all of Simon’s rationality flies out the window.

“Oi, the hell’re you tryin’ to do to me?”

He grunts when you finally pull away for air, panting, the both of you a dazzling mess of blushy cheeks and budding, uncertain arousal. His fingers draw up your face, savoring the warmth he finds there before they press into the curls of your hair and you watch his eyes like a hawk.

Calculative. Slow… Thoughtful, so broken in by war and bloodshed and bad memories.

Your doe eyes… They drag him in like a winter night’s tide and he can’t find it in himself to resurface.

“Fuckin’ hell…”

He leans in once more- harboring a whole new initiative, it seems- and captures your lips in his. All his darkness seeps into you like watercolor on a page, a million tiny fireworks going off in your belly as your knees buckle, and he holds onto you like you’re his lifeline.

His single thing worth a damn.

“Open,” he barely demands, chest rumbling against yours, every vibration giving you butterflies. “Give me some tongue, won’t you?”

You obey, belatedly parting your lips, his tongue meeting with yours, his palm pushing the back of your head in closer as he groans into the kiss.

“Atta girl.” He breathes, his eyes, rimmed by the black fabric, pinched shut as he backs away for oxygen, brows furrowed tight as his enamored hues then sweep over you.

“Let me show you my gratitude, pet, yeah?”

[queenimmadolla]

Vivi, I cant stop reading your penny verse writing! It’s so good and it like makes me glow with happiness! I literally hate children but you’ve somehow given me baby fever! Especially like being pregnant is just at the forefront on my mind and having my partner coo at a growing belly, petting it and kissing it! OMG VIVI YOU’RE POISONING MY MIND WITH THOUGHTS OF BABIES AND GROSS DOMESTIC SHIT LMAO! (But I love you for it)

I AM HONORED. That makes me feel SO relieved because I, too, hate kids. Like, other than my nieces and nephews, I can’t tolerate kids. I think the majority of them are gross and way too annoying for how expensive they are. Luckily my nephews and nieces are pretty good kids/babies so they make it easy for me to give everyone baby fever with Penny and baby Wayne. Also, I give myself baby fever lol I catch myself thinking I could be like Penny’s mom if I had a baby lmao and you didn’t SAY it was a request but uh . . .

warnings: fluff galore (eddie talking to Penny while she’s still in your tummy)

(eddie munson x pregnant!reader)

more pennyverse here

“What does it feel like?” Eddie asked from his position, laying a little further down near your belly. He was referring to the baby nestled inside and actively kicking against where his palm lay over the bare skin of your bump.

It had taken a while, but you were finally showing in an obvious manner. You’d only discovered you were pregnant about three months ago and you had been ridiculously far along at five freaking months but your stomach hadn’t changed to let you know you were even expecting. It was really only in the last month and a half that your baby shifted to press against the front of your womb. She’d apparently gotten so comfortable, she’d decided to remain there, meaning you’d grown quite the bump in a short amount of time thanks to her rapid development. You still weren’t huge, though, so you didn’t expect her to be a big baby. Or at least, you hoped not, for the sake of your vagina. “Mmm,” You hummed, eyebrows pinched together as you tried to come up with a comparison Eddie would be able to relate to. There wasn’t really one, it was an odd sensation to have her kick from inside of you. On some occasions, you swore you could feel her move, shift around in there. “This is gonna make no sense, but it feels like a fish.” “What?” He laughed out, warm brown eyes flickering up to stare at you in amusement.

“Have you cupped a goldfish in your hand?” “To put it in a bowl or something?” “Yeah!” You nodded, head resting on a stack of pillows on the floor. One thing about the sudden baby bump is your back was not used to the additional frontal weight, so you’d taken to laying on the ground pretty much anywhere, even at home. Your friends found it very amusing and so did Eddie, once he got past his concern. “It feels like how they wiggle against your skin. Just a little more firm. And in my tummy.” 

Eddie made a sound of acknowledgment before another kick was pressed against the palm of his hand, drawing his attention back to his unborn child. “Damn, my girl’s got a pair of legs on her, doesn’t she?”

He caressed your swollen belly, a look of adoration plastered on his face. You’d never grow tired of watching him prepare to be a father, he already loved her so much. Plus, your hormones were crazy and seeing him like this really got you going. “Do you think she can hear me?” It was the billionth time he asked. He always did before he talked to her. “She’s surrounded by amniotic fluid, so you probably sound like you’re underwater to her but she only gets this active when you’re talking to me. Think she likes your voice.” It was true, while she’d occasionally move around, she only ever got active when Eddie was present, always loud and boisterous. 

You could tell Eddie felt a lot of pride in that, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your belly, hiking your blouse up a little further as he began their nightly conversations.

“You already know you’ve got me wrapped around your little fingers, don’t you?” He cooed out, watching the area of your stomach she was focused on pressing against, rising before she no doubt retracted her little foot.

“I can’t wait until I meet you–I mean, I can wait so don’t go getting any ideas but when you're finally out here with us, I promise I’m gonna take such good care of you and your mom.” He promised, licking his lips as they formed a soft smile.

“You got really lucky with her, too. She’s ridiculously pretty. Gonna have to fight other people off once she’s a milf. You don’t know what that is, I forget. A milf is a mother I’d like to f–” “Eddie!” You laughed, hand reaching up to hide your smile.

“You’ll learn when you’re older, “ He smirked, though it dropped quickly when he remembered how kids could be dicks sometimes and if they spotted her pretty mommy picking her up from school, she might find out when she’s not so much older. “And you’ll let me know if anyone refers to her as one so I can fight them, yeah?”

He took the next kick as one of agreement.

“That’s my girl. Now listen, about the sleeping arrangements. Personally, I’d like to keep getting a decent amount of sleep after your mom’s done baking you in there. Actually, I’m pretty sure your mom would, too, so I'm thinking maybe you just immediately sleep through every single night. If you’re opposed to it, that’s fine ‘cause–ya know, you’re gonna get your way regardless but it was just a recommendation.” 

“And of course, cuddles. It’s imperative you know the second you’re in my arms, I will not be willingly putting you down. Most of your naps are gonna be there, in fact, you’ll probably ignore my sleeping recommendation so you’ll be sleeping in my arms, too, which isn’t a bad thing. Your mom does it all the time and I haven't received any complaints or bad reviews yet. Kisses are also mandatory, only a select few people are allowed to kiss you ‘cause I’ve done my research but considering it’s all I want to do right now and you’re not actually out yet, I will be unable to refrain from smothering you with them. I just know you’re gonna get annoyed with me, but I won’t be able to stop.”

As if to make his point, Eddie pressed a smattering of kisses to your belly, chuckling when you squirmed underneath him. “I’ll teach you how to walk, I’ll teach you how to ride a bike, how to play an instrument–lucky for you, your daddy is multi-talented–I’ll take you on little daddy-daughter dates, your mom taught me how to braid hair so I can do that for you, too. I’ll do anything for you. Anything you want. So just finish up in there, okay?” 

Eddie felt the heavy weight of your stare on him and once more, his gaze was flickering up to meet yours. “What?” “You’re so fucking cute. I’d offer to have your babies but I already am.”

Eddie smirked and pressed a kiss on the lower half of your belly, trailing a few even lower than that. “And I am soooo very appreciative of you, I think I should probably show you how much.”

[rylanvar]

I noticed there wasn’t much on here yet so I thought I’d send in a request!

Could I get something with Will (oneshots or headcanons both r fine whatever you’re comfortable with!) that takes place after he first returns from The Upside Down in season 1 and the reader is visiting them in the hospital really worried and stuff and they accidentally confess that they love him whilst rambling? If that makes sense? Kinda angsty but also a bit of fluff

Hi! Yes thank you for the request! This will actually be my first post on here so I apologize if it’s not good :’)   (Also sorry if I took a bit to respond!)

Will Byers x Reader

You had just heard the exciting yet nerve racking news that your best friend (and secret crush..) had finally been found and was recovering in the hospital after being missing for days. You had dropped what you were doing and quickly rushed outside to your bike after telling your mother what was happening and that you would be back. You quickly snatched up your bike from your front yard and hopped on but stupidly leaned to far and fell off landing your left shoulder right into the rocks of your driveway. “Shit..!” You hissed In pain but ignored it and hurriedly got back on your bike speeding down the road, ignoring the wobbling your bike was doing as a result from your speed. You finally arrived at the hospital after 14 long minutes, you were exhausted but you had to go see the Byers boy you adored so much. You made your way up to the front desk to be met with a seemingly young lady with brown glasses sitting comfortable upon her nose. “Good afternoon hun, how can I help you?” She said with a soft smile. “I-I’m here to see Will Byers” you breathlessly spat out. “Okay dear..Byers is in room 421” she says glancing at her computer. “Thank you miss!” You flashed a quick smile and rushed to his room. You counted the numbers on the doers as you walked the halls..

418..

419..

420..

421! He’s in here!

You hesitantly pushed open the hospital room door. You stepped in and a shiver ran down your spine as the cold hospital room air made contact with your skin. You looked quickly around the pale white room before your eyes flickered to the small boy, about as pale as the room, laying peacefully asleep on the hospital bed. You smiled widely as you felt tears start to sting the corners of your eyes..he’s safe..

A/N: Will is not there alone, Joyce is there but she’s talking to a doctor somewhere else!

You had made your way over to the chair next to his bed and sat down cautiously,  careful not to bump any machines near you. You grabbed his hand a squeezed it. “Will? Hey b-bud.. it’s me, Y/N.” You said softly. A second later his eyes fluttered open and he looked around, taking in his surroundings, he then looked at you and blinked a few times before you could see realization settle in his eyes. His beautiful brown eyes widened as he realized it was you Infront of him. Y/N L/N.. his best friend he missed dearly. “Y-Y/N..I-“ His eyes started watering and you leaned forwards to embrace the brunette, he instantly reciprocated the hug and held you tightly. “Hi..” you whispered into the hug. “Y/N..I missed you..s-so much..” you could hear the shaking in his voice as he cried into your shoulder. You hesitantly left go of him and sat back down, taking his hand in your once again. “I missed you too. I was so worried, I thought you were gone!” You said fast, trying to beat the tears that were threatening to fall. Before he could say anything you cut him off with your rambling. “I thought I lost y-you..! You were there with us at the campaign, but t-then you just..didn’t show up the next day, you just disappeared. W-we didn’t know what happened! I thought you were killed..t-they found a body in the quarry a-and it looked just like you! We s-saw you getting pulled out if the water and I-I..I just couldn’t take it. My world just c-crumbled Will.. I cant lose you! I love y-you way to much Will! I want to spend my life with you b-but I can’t if you just disappear! I love you m-more than I shou-“ you cut yourself off, freezing after realized what you just admitted. Tears were already streaming down your face. “I-..” is all you could mutter. Will was just staring, face a light crimson tint. “You..l-love me? Like..m-more than a friends?” He stared into your E/C eyes. I-I’m sorry..” you mumbled as you immediately looked down, expecting to get asked to leave or hear him laugh at your feelings. You cringed at the silence but looked up when you didn’t hear anything from the Byers boy. You Made eye and realized the blush that was painted on his face. “Y/N..I-I..I love you t-too.” He said glancing down at his hands, nervously fiddling his fingers. You took a second to process what he said, when it finally set into your big head that he liked you back, you jumped into another hug, hiding your face into the boys shoulder to conceal your growing blush, he hugged you back and laughed through his tears. “God I missed this..” he mumbles into your hair. you sigh, relieved.. relieved that the boy you loved, was safe and in your arms..

Everything things okay..finally..

AAAA IM SO SORRY IF THIS WAS BAD! THIS WAS MY FIRST FANFIC! But thank you so much for the request and I hope you enjoy!

[waitimcomingtoo]

I Thought This Was A Closet Party

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peter helps you with a favor that brings you closer than ever. Like, stuck in a closet together type of close

Masterlist

“Hello Peter.” You greeted him stiffly. “You look very sexy today.”

Peter swiveled in his chair to look at you, perched in his door way with a look on your face that he knew all too well.

“Oh God.” He groaned. “What do you want?”

“What makes you think I want something, my delectable best friend?” You asked as you walked into his room and shut the door behind you. Peter his earbuds out and looked up at you, giving you his full attention.

“Maybe because called me “delectable”.” He said pointedly and you waved your hand in dismissal.

“Haha.” You faked laughed and draped yourself over his lap, making him adjust himself in the chair to catch you. “You are just as funny as you are handsome.”

“Fake flirting?” He raised an eyebrow at you as he secured his arms around your waist to keep you from falling off the chair. “What do want? My kidney?”

“Oh, Peter. You are so silly. Your sense of humor is unmatched.” You laughed again as you patted his chest. “Have I mentioned I love this flannel? It’s so rugged and lesbian chic. You fill it out really well. Is it Gucci?”

“It’s from Goodwill and I’m not giving you anything. Flattery gets you nowhere-“

“Hold on.” You interrupted before sighing dramatically. “Sorry. I just got lost in your eyes. They remind me of the ocean.”

“My eyes are brown.” Peter shut you down instantly.

“I know. Water pollution is so devastating. I bet you could end it with just a smile and a wink.” You flirted around you walked your fingers up his chest and booped his nose.

“That’s one of the weirder come on’s I’ve heard.” He laughed at you. Even thought he knew you were only kidding, it didn’t stop his heart from pounding when you flirted with him. He did his best to keep a straight face as you toyed with the collar of his shirt. You looked up suddenly and your face softened, almost like you were being genuine for a moment.

“Your face looks scrumptious in the moonlight.” You deadpanned, making Peter groan loudly and rub his tired eyes.

“I need you to stop.” Peter whined as you laughed at yourself.

“I fantasize about us being in love to fall asleep.” You continued your charade as you wrapped your arms around his neck. That one hit a little too close to home for Peter and he blew out a breath.

“Just take it. Take my kidney. This is unbearable.”

“I really like your personality.” You tried again.

“Not gonna happen.” Peter insisted.

“You butt looks good in those jeans?” You phrased it as more of a question as you looked at him with hope.

“You got me.” He sighed. “You know my butt is a direct pathway to my heart. What do you need from me?”

You smiled with pride as you finally broke him down and climbed off his lap.

“I need an interview with Cleatus Kassidy for an article.” You told him as you clasped your hands under your chin.

“Okay.” Peter nodded. “Where is he?”

You took a step towards Peter and brushed a curl behind his ear, letting your hand rest in the back of his neck and and tangle in his curls. He knew this was just another step in your scheme to get him to help you, but he couldn’t help from leaning into your touch.

“Queensboro Correctional facility.” You said sheepishly, and Peter finally understood what all the flirtatious precautions were for.

“He’s in jail?” Peter nearly screamed when you broke the news.

“No.” You said and Peter relaxed. “He’s in prison.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Peter dismissed you and held out the scissors again. “I’d rather you take the kidney.”

“Please?” You pleaded and tilted his chin up to look at you. “I can’t be a criminal investigator without any experience and I’m already behind since my stupid professor doesn’t like me. Which is insane, by the way, since I’m adorable and charming.”

“Yeah, I cant imagine why he wouldn’t like you, you being so humble and all.” He replied. 

“Right?” You answered, unaware of his sarcasm. “I need this to prove I belong in his class. This is the break I’ve been waiting for.”

“What do you need from me?” Peter sighed. “That doesn’t mean I’m helping, I just want an estimation on how stupid this plan is before I put an offer down.”

“I need you to help me break into the prison so I can put my name in his visitors list.” You said all in one breath.

“You want to break into jail?” Peter whispered harshly so his aunt wouldn’t hear.

“No.” You said bluntly. “I want to break into prison.”

“Nope. Not happening.” Peter held up his hands in defense and swiveled back to face his desk.

“Peter, please?” You begged as you turned his chair around. “Do you understand how much this means to me?”

“And do you understand that people typically try to break out of prison? Not in?” Peter sassed you.

“But this is the only way to get on his visitors list.” You whined. “I’ve tried calling everyday for the three weeks but he keeps getting his phone privileges taken away for behavioral misconducts.”

“What kind of behavior misconducts?” Peter lowered his eyebrows skeptically. You looked down at your hands and timidly picked at your chipping nail polish.

“The stabbing kind.” You mumbled and Peters jaw dropped.

“That’s a bad kind!” He exclaimed.

“But no one ever finds a knife!” You retorted. “The victims always have deep puncture wounds but no knife. And the guards once found bite marks.”

“Oh, great. So he takes a little nibble after puncturing his victims.” Peter clasped his hands together on his lap. “Can’t wait to meet him. Should I bake him some cornbread as a gift?”

“That’d be nice.” You ignored his sarcasm and answered honestly.

“I was being sarcastic.” Peter snapped and got out of his chair.

“Good for you!” You said back. “No one investigated the bite marks even though they didn’t match Cleatus’s dental records. Not to mention, his MO has completely changed since getting into prison. He used to go after blonde women in their 40’s-

“Karen’s.” Peter cut in.

“Exactly.” You nodded. “And now he goes after men who are in for non violent crimes with no previous records. Something weird is going and no one is investigating it. That’s why I need to get in there and see what’s up but I need your help to do that. You owe me since you got me thinking about how much I want cornbread.”

Peter leaned on his hand and stared at you, trying to decipher his next move. You folded your arms and stared back, trying to look serious.

“People are dying, Peter.” You said softly, making him sigh.

“I also want cornbread.” He said quietly as he kept his gaze down.

“Peter, I will bake you all the cornbread you can eat until you’re too heavy to swing from your webs if you help me.” You told him as you sat back on his lap. Peter squeezed your hip gently and pursed his lips.

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “We could get in a lot of trouble.”

“Your ass is bigger than Captain America’s.” You started up again with the compliments, making a smile tug at Peters lips. 

“I’m in.”

“Yay! Thank you so much.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “When I win the Pulitzer Prize for my work you’ll be the first one I thank.”

“All right, all right.” Peter chuckled softly as he rubbed your back. “What’s the first step of the plan?”

“You have your suit, so it’s only fair I get a disguise of my own.” You began.

“Does that mean...”

“Yep.” You smiled. “Road trip to Goodwill.”

“You treat me so well.” Peter beamed.

~

A day later, you stood outside Queensboro Correctional facility in a makeshift guard next to Peter in his Spiderman suit.

“This is it?” Peter asked as he looked at the building. It’s height alone made him feel small, and the fact he was the reason a few of those inmates were in there didn’t make him feel any better.

“This is it.” You confirmed as you adjusted your tie.

“How do we get in?” Peter looked to you.

“The computer room is the only one with a window that opens since you need a key to get in. It locks automatically so you have to stay there while I do my part of the plan. Once my name is on the list, we can meet back at the computer room.”

“And then we get cornbread?” Peter asked.

“And then we get cornbread.” You nodded.

“Awesome. You ready?”

“Ready.” You secured yourself to Peters side but stopped him before he could swing away. “Oh wait. Hang on.” You took out your phone and quickly dialed a number.

“Who are you calling?” Peter wondered as you held your phone to your ear.

“Remember that thing we talked about? Awesome. Yeah, you can do it now.” You said into the phone as you looked to the sky. Right as Peter looked up in the same direction, a hot blue lightning rod struck the power lines, sending a wave of sparks to rain down. The lights inside the prison flickered for a moment before coming back on.

“You got Thor involved?” Peter asked in shock.

“I needed him to knock out the security cameras so we didn’t get caught.” You shrugged. “Unless, of course, you wanted to join Cleatus in there.”

“Just grab on.” Peter huffed and wrapped his arm around your waist. He shot a web towards the fifth floor and swung you up there with ease. He stuck to the side of the building as he opened the window, pushing you inside before going in himself.

“You didn’t have to roll me in like I’m a bowling ball.” You grumbled as you dusted yourself off.

“You’re just mad because I always beat you at Wii bowling.” Peter shrugged as he brushed some dust off your shoulder.

“Okay, but which one of us cried because they lost at Wii tennis last week?” You asked as you peered out the window in the door for any guards.

“Me, but I wasn’t crying because I lost.” Peter insisted.

“Sure you weren't.” You quipped as you fixed your uniform.

“You hit me in the face with your controller!” Peter whispered harshly, not wanting to alert anyone to his presence.

“The past can hurt us, but we have to chose to run from it or learn from it.” You said causally as you continued to look out the window.

“Do not quote Lion King right now, I swear to God.” Peter grumbled as he took a seat at one of the computers.

“You’re not being very Hakuna matata right now.” You said quietly and Peter glared at you, piercing you through his mask.

“I just feel like you’re being a little too slimy and not enough satisfying.” You added and he balled his hands into a fist.

“We are in a correctional facility right now and unless you’d like to write your next exposition from a cell in a women’s prison, I suggest you get on with your part of the plan.” Peter said with superficial calmness.

“Right. Sorry. I’ll go find a guard.” You hung your head in shame and left the room. You tried to blend in as you walked through the halls, smiling tightly at any guards you passed. Coming behind a corner, you found a single guard by an open window and took the next step of the plan. You ducked behind the wall and held your fingers against the intercom in your ear.

“Eagle 1, do you copy? Eagle 1, over.” You whispered.

“Who’s Eagle 1? Don’t even tell me you got Sam in on the plan.” Peters voice filled your ear.

“You’re Eagle 1!” You whispered abrasively. “We can’t have a heist without code names.”

“I’m thinking of a lot of code names I’d like you call you right now.” Peter mumbled.

“Are you in position?” You asked him.

“Yes, I am in position.” Peter confirmed as he stuck to the side of the building.

“I found a guard.” You told him. “I’m on the west side of the fifth floor. Do you see me?”

“I see you.” Peter responded.

“Okay. Do your thing.”

You watched Peter swing back and forth between the buildings outside of the window where you were positioned. When the guard didn’t look up, you had to step in.

“Wow! Is that Spider-Man?” You asked dramatically as you came around the corner. The guard barely glanced up at the window and looked at you.

“Yeah.” He sighed.

“That’s so cool. He’s like a celebrity.” You gushed.

“Yeah.” He said again.

“Boy, wouldn’t it be awesome to get a picture with him? You’d be the coolest guy ever if you could get a picture.” You forced a laugh, beginning to panic when the guard wasn’t responding the way you hoped.

“Eh.” He shrugged unenthusiastically.

“Why don’t you give me your phone and I’ll take your picture? I’m sure Spiderman wouldn’t mind.” You looked at Peter and gave him a thumbs up, which he reciprocated.

“Meh.” He said and began to walk away, making your heart race with fear.

“Okay, um, wait!” You called after him, still needing the code from him.

“What?” He turned around, growing frustrated with you. Your eyes darted across his face before landing on his name tag.

“Sebastian.” You faked a smile. “I really need to get onto one of the computers but I left my phone as home. Do you think you could tell me the passcode?”

Sebastian cocked his head to the side and looked at you sideways for a moment, making you shift uncomfortably. You were sure you were caught just from his look.

“Where’s your name tag?” He questioned. You looked down at where your name tag should be and gulped. The uniform was pretty easy to make out of miscellaneous items from Goodwill, but you’d forgotten about a name tag.

“An inmate…swallowed it.” You lied, hoping he would somehow believe you with your pithy excuse.

“Which inmate?” Sebastian asked, making you suck in a breath. You raked your brain for the most generic name you could think of.

“Josh?” It came out as more of question as a bead of sweat rolled down your forehead. To your surprise, Sebastians face softened and he let out a laugh.

“Damn. That is so Josh.” He chuckled. “The code is 877-393-4448. If you talk to Sheila at the front desk, she can get you another name tag. This is the ninth one Josh has swallowed.”

You gave Sebastian a gentle smile, surprised he was so eager to help you.

“Thank you.” You said sincerely. Sebastian nodded and returned the smile.

“And between you and me, Captain America is way cooler.” He said behind his hand, like it was a secret.

“Totally.” You laughed before he walked away.

“I heard that.” Peter grumbled into your intercom.

“I was just playing along to keep my cover.” You defended yourself as you wrote the code down in your notes.

“Eagle 1, the recipe has been downloaded. I repeat, the recipe had been downloaded.” You whispered so only Peter could hear.

“What recipe?”

“The code!” You almost yelled. “I got the code, you ninny. Are you back in the computer room?”

“I just got in.” He told you.

“Okay. I’m texting you the code. Tell me when you get it.”

“I got it.” He confirmed.

“Go to inmate information.” You walked him through the steps.

“Yep.”

“Find inmate 24601.” You said, Cleatus’s number.

“Getting scared at how much you know about the prison computer system.” Peter laughed nervously as he did what you asked.

“Go to visitors.” You ignored his comment.

“Okay.”

“And put my full name.” You instructed. Your heart raced as you waited for him to complete the most important part of the plan.

“You’re on.” Peter told you, making you sigh in relief.

“Yes! I love you.” You cheered. “You’re the best best friend in the world.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Peter said quietly, still reeling from you saying you loved him.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” You gushed as you walked back towards the computer room. You were flooded with excitement and appreciation for Peter that was pouring out of you.

“And Thor, apparently.” He commented as he got out of the computer chair.

“Shut up.” You teased. “All we need to do now is get out of here without being seen. Think you can do that?”

“You’re talking to Spiderman, baby.” Peter quipped. “I can do anything.”

“Except put the toilet seat down after using it, apparently.” You shrugged, biting your tongue so you wouldn’t laugh as you passed a guard.

“I told you I was sorry for that.”

“Do you know what it’s like to fall into a toilet, Peter?” You asked him. “My knees hit my shoulders.”

“I think you’re being a little dramatic.” He insisted.

“I could’ve drowned.” You snapped as you came around a corner. Your eyes widened in shock as Peter, still in his suit, met you in the hallway.

“Could you really, though?” He sassed as he approached you. Your throat went dry at the sight of him and you struggled to find the words to say.

“What are you doing here?” You whispered as you pulled him back around the corner.

“Oh, didn’t you hear? We broke in. You know, like a crime.” Peter said casually, making you groan loudly.

“Do not rehash John Mulaney jokes right now.” You demanded. “Why are you here? You left the computer room?”

“You said we were gonna meet up.” He said, beginning to see how panicked you were.

“Yes! Inside the computer room! So we can escape out the window.” You had to keep yourself from yelling so you frantically paced back and forth. There was no explanation for why or how Spider-Man was inside the prison and all it would take was a quick search of your name to reveal you didn’t actually work there.

“All right, so we’ll just go back in there.” Peter said calmly, trying to address the situation.

“We can’t just go back in there. It locks automatically.” You told him. “That’s why you were supposed to wait in there to let me in.”

“Oh.” Peter said meekly.

“Yeah. Oh.” You poked him angrily.

“What do we do now?” He asked, his panic levels rising to match your own. You opened your mouth to speak until the sound of keys jingling caught your attention.

“Wait, someone’s coming. We can’t get caught.” You gripped his shoulders and looked at him in fear.

“What’s the big deal? You have your guard costume on. Plus, everyone love the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.” Peter tried to calm you down but it only made you worse.

“Unless you want to become the friendly cell block inmate, we need to hide.” You whispered as you looked around. You spotted a janitors closet down the hall and tugged Peter towards it. “Get in here.”

You scrambled inside the closet, not realizing how cramped it would be with two people and a prisons worth of cleaning supplies. Your back was pressed against shelves and the front of you was pressed against Peter, someone he wasn’t complaining about. You rested your hands on his chest and looked through the slits in the door vent as Sebastian walked by the closet.

“He looks mean.” Peter gulped. “He looks like a biter.”

“Don’t judge him.” You whispered. “He was actually very nice to me.”

“Why are you getting friendly with the correctional officers?” Peter looked down at you, feeling a familiar sense of jealously bubble in his tummy.

“Why are you so doo doo at following directions?” You shot back.

“Your adjectives never fail to blow my mind.” Peter shook his head as he slipped his mask off.

“yOuR aDjeCtiVes nEVer fAil”, you mimicked his voice as you moved your hand like a puppet, “yeah okay School House Rock.”

“Keep it coming with the obscure references.” Peter leaned closer to taunt you. “Keep it coming please.”

You continued to berate Peter until his attention snapped towards the door and he put a gloved hand over your mouth.

“Wait, shhh!” He silenced you as he squinted through the vents in the door.

“Ew. When was the last time you washed your hands? We’re in a prison! You touched the doorknobs.” You grimaced as your took his hand off your mouth.

“You don’t like my doorknob hands? You don’t like my grimy doorknobs hands?” Peter asked as he rubbed his hands all over your face while you gagged.

“Might I remind you our personal freedoms are at stake? Do you want to go to jail?” You asked as you held his hands tightly in place to keep them off of you. Peter looked down guilty when he remembered where you were and put his hands down.

“I’ll be quiet.” He said sheepishly. You both stood in silence as another guard walked by, the only sounds coming from your heartbeats. Being this close to you was one thing, but Peters heightened senses was giving him gateway to a whole other experience. He could literally smell your fear, as well as your strawberry shampoo.

“I cannot believe we’re hiding in a supply closet.” He laughed a little to distract himself. “What’s next, we’re forced to share a bed?”

“I know. Or like, my mom can’t pay the bills so she sells me to your family.” You added, laughing along with him until you heard footsteps. “Oh, shh.”

You pressed yourself even closer to Peter as a group of guards walked past, trying to breathe as quietly as possible so they didn’t hear you. Peters has tightened with you this close, placing his hand on the small of your back to keep you in place. Your ear was flush against his heartbeat and you could hear it beating like a drum as you clung to him for safety.

“This is ridiculous. I am never going along with one of your plans again. They always put us in the most uncomfortable positions.” Peter grumbled, trying to act like having you this close wasn’t the greatest thing to happen to him.

“No they don’t.” You scoffed and continued to look out the vents for guards.

“Remember your fantastic movie night plan when you convinced me to watch 365 Days? How did that turn out, huh?” He reminded you making your whole face go white as you remembered that movie.

“I don’t want to talk about that.” You avoided his eyes as your cheeks flamed.

“Exactly.” Peter argued. “We couldn’t even look at each other. We were too frozen from shock to turn it off.”

“Every time I hear the word “boat” I get flashbacks.” You shuddered.

“Okay let’s not talk about the boat scene when we’re this close.” Peter squeezed his eyes shut to keep himself calm.

All of him.

“Why?” You asked curiously, not understanding what was going through Peters mind.

“I’m gonna shish kebab you, that’s why.” Peter said with embarrassment, suddenly wishing he had left the mask on to keep you from seeing how flushed he was. The wheels turned in your brain and a sheepish smile came on your face as you realized what he was worried about. You opened your mouth to speak but quickly shut it when a janitor and a guard stopped outside your closet.

“Kassidy again? What now?” The janitor asked with a sigh. You listened closely as you clung to Peter. He could barely focus on the conversation as your heartbeat fell into rhythm with him.

“Another stabbing.” The guard said. “If this guy gets one more shot, he’s getting moved to max.”

“All right. I’ll grab a mop.” The janitor said, making you and Peter look at each other in a panic.

“Shit.” You whispered with wide eyes.

“What?” Peter asked.

“Either you’re shish kebab-ing me from the back or the mop he’s looking for is right behind me.” You explained. Peter peered behind you and saw the handle of a mop leaning against the shelves and felt his heart race.

“Oh God. I can’t go to prison! I’m too soft and wholesome.” Peter began to freak out, feeling his forehead drip with sweat.

“Yeah, I hear that defense works really well in court.” You said sarcastically.

“Do not sass me, woman! This is your fault!” He exclaimed and you knew he was right. It was your fault.

“Let’s not play the blame game.” You said timidly. “And calling me “woman” like that is demeaning.”

“I know. Sorry women.” Peter said sincerely as he looked up. You looked up too but saw nothing but a water stain.

“Who are you apologizing to?” You asked.

“Captain Marvel.” He said sheepishly.

“What are we gonna do? We can’t get caught.” You whined quietly as you anxiously clutched Peters arms. Peter cleared his throat as another wave of your shampoo was scent his way.

“On the one hand, we could explain to them what we’re doing here and hope they have a sense of humor and sympathy for college students.” Peter chuckled shortly. “On the other hand, you smell like strawberries.”

“Wait, shh.” You stepped even closer to him when the janitor came closer to the closet door.

“Come here.” Peter said as he turned you around. He wrapped his arm firmly around your shoulders and held you flushed against himself as the janitor opened the door. You both held your breath and you pressed your back as close to Peters chest as you possibly could as the janitor grabbed the mop you were previously leaning against and left the closet. You waited a few seconds before sighing in relief, staying in Peters arms as you relaxed.

“I cannot believe that worked.” You breathed, still scared to talk too loudly in case he came back.

“I know. My friend Drax taught me how to do it. If you stand perfectly still, you become invisible to the human eye.” Peter spoke in a hushed tone as he panted.

“Wow.” You swallowed, your mouth having gone dry from fear.

“I know.” Peter nodded, resting his chin on top of your head. You had finally collected yourself when you felt something pressed against your leg.

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Am I leaning on another mop?”

More silence filled the closet as that something continued to press against you.

“I wish I could say yes.” Peter said after a minute. You hung your head and tried to keep your laughter to yourself.

“Oh my God.” You sputtered. “Peter!”

“I’m sorry.” He said sincerely. “I have no control over him.”

“Him?!” You craned your neck to look at him in shock.

“If you must know, I call him Samuel L. Jackson.” Peter said sheepishly.

“Why?” You looked at him over your shoulder and he looked down in shame.

“Because he’s in everything.” Peter admitted, making you look up at the ceiling and count to ten in your head.

“You belong here.” You nodded. “You belong in prison.”

“I’m sorry!” Peter exclaimed. “Don’t get mad at me. It’ll only make it worse.”

“Everything I’m learning about you right now is against my will.” You grimaced.

“Wait, Karen isn’t picking up any heat signatures near us.” Peter said as he slipped his mask back on.

“Now he changes the subject.” You muttered to yourself.

“The coast is clear. We gotta go.” Peter scooped you up and opened the closet door. “And I’m not waiting for your little slow ass.”

“This is not how I imagined my Saturday.” You commented as Peter carried you back to the computer room as fast as he could.

“That makes three of us.” Peter said as he rounded the corner.

“Three?”

“Can’t forget about Samuel.” He gulped, knowing you’d get mad at him for what he said. You shook your head as he set you down in front of the the computer room door.

“We can’t go out this way. The door is locked, remember?” You put your hands on your hips and looked at him.

“Maybe, but it won’t be unlocked when we use this key I stole from the janitor.” Peter said as he smugly held up a key. “Even has a cute little label on it that says ‘computer room.’ How convenient.”

A smile lit up your face as you took the key from him, wasting no time in unlocking the door and pulled him inside. Once you were hidden from view, you pulled him into a long hug.

“I’m glad you came along.” You murmured in his ear. Peter smiled as he hugged you back, nuzzling into your hair. “Lets go.”

Two hours later, you were back in Peters apartment in your regular clothes. Peter could hear you talking on the phone after you stepped out take a call. After all the romantic moments, he really didn’t want to go back to being just friends.

Peter snapped out of his trance when you came back from his balcony, a giddy smile on your face.

“I just got off the phone with Queensboro.” You beamed. “I have a 2 pm appointment tomorrow with Cleatus.”

You punctuated your sentence by breaking out in a happy dance, grabbing Peters hand and twirling yourself with it.

“So our little plan worked.” He chuckled as you moved back and forth, dancing to music that wasn’t there.

“Couldn’t have done it without you.” You said as you took your head off his shoulder to look at him fondly. “Love you.”

“Ew. Whatever.” Peter pretended to gag to distract from his blush.

“You know”, you smiled coyly at Peter, “I’m gonna be pretty hungry after my interview tomorrow. All that criminal investigating is sure to work up an appetite.”

“I’m sure it will.” He responded, not knowing where you were going with that statement. You rested your head back on his shoulder as you continued to sway.

“Maybe you can take me on that date you’ve been dying to ask me on.”

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[emmaannaelisabeth]

The Lake

after seeing @ kanejxnikolai s twitter post with the prompt imagine what it'll do to kaz when kanej's child dies from the plague just like jordie did i knew i had to write it. i have never sobbed like this while writing before. (tw: death, sickness, blisters/sores, losing a child, severe emotional pain)

kaz sits on the chair beside the small bed. he looks at the beautiful wooden frame, the dark brown tree that almost looks golden in the pale light from the oil lamp on the bedside table. it looks so alive, almost as if could start moving any second and grow up to be a strong proud tree with lots of leaves and fruit. isn’t it amazing how very alive a dead thing can seem?

isn't it horrifying how very dead a living thing can seem?

jordie lies there in bed. he looks so small on that huge pillow, even though it’s his size. his face is pale, and he’s covered in tiny pearls of sweat, glittering like crystals on his skin. small blisters have appeared on his cheeks, on his neck, one right on his eyelid.

kaz sits there, his gaze flickers between jordie’s half open small lips and his closed eyes. every time jordie breathes out, he makes a sound. it’s not a whimper, it’s more of a quiet moan. and every time kaz hears it, he completely falls apart. he doesn’t know what to do. jordie sounds like a small puppy, and it sends a dagger right through kaz’s heart every time he hears it.

he twists his hands in each other, realises that they’re shaking, ignores it, swallows hard. blue eyes gaze at jordie’s pale figure, and as if he was back there in his office, it all replays in his mind.

jordie swirls into the room. the seven year old holds dirtle turtles in his hands as he runs around and kaz draws in a sharp breath. “jordie, calm down, you’ll kill that poor thing”, he says, nods to the green turtle in jordie’s hands.

“oh but papa!” jordie pants. “dirtles loves it!”

kaz raises his eyebrows and dips the pen in the ink. “what would you say if i ran around with you like that?” but jordie just smiles, holds up dirtles in front of his face. “do you like it?” he asks, tilts his head to the side as if to see the turtle better. then jordie nods, “yes! he says he likes it.”

kaz sighs. “if you say so, jordie. but remember to take care of him, you know what mama said when she brought him home to you?”

jordie nods. “yes, yes, yes.” he puts down dirtles in the armchair in the corner and walks up to kaz’s desk. the little boy slams his hands on the table top, and kaz is just quick enough to gather his papers before jordie has snatched one of them.

“papa”, jordie says.

“yes.”

“papa, papa, paaaaaapa papapapapapa-”

“yes, jordie. i’m listening.”

jordie bites his lip and smiles brightly, he raises his gaze to catch kaz’s. a giggle passes the little boy’s lips and he swallows, licks his lip, raises his eyebrows. he tilts his head, just like he always does when he’s thinking of something he’d like to do or want someone to give him.

“remember the lake you talked about, papa?”

kaz sighs and blinks, already knowing where this is going. “what about the lake?” he frowns and looks down at the papers on the desk.

“yes, i thought we could go there”, jordie says, rests his chin on the table top, searches eagerly for kaz’s gaze. “i wanna see it.”

“i cant go to the lake with you today, jordie”, kaz says and jordie frowns, pouts his lip.

“you always say that papa!” he complains.

“i’m working now, i don’t have time today.”

“but paaaapaa”, jordie says, putting on his best papa-please-i-am-now-super-very-disappointed-and-sad face.

kaz looks up. “no, jordie”, he says. “another day.”

and jordie sighs loudly and walks away. “i’ll go play outside”, he mutters. he slams the door shut and kaz bites his lips not to yell at the boy. a second later jordie stumbles into the room again, his face could just as well have been a lemon, judging by his sour face. he stomps his way up to the armchair and lifts up his turtle and mutters something kaz can’t hear, and glares at him as he walks out again.

they are important, kaz tells himself as he watches jordie leave. the papers are important. he has to do this, especially when inej is gone, out at sea, and can’t help him. something inside of him breaks at the sight of his little boy disappointed. because behind that sour face, is a small broken heart. kaz knows, he sees. he sees how the tears peer out from behind the angry glare.

kaz’s eyes switch back to the papers in front of him and he suddenly feel himself simply want to grab them, squeeze them into a ball and throw it away.

this isn’t the first time jordie has asked about the lake outside town. it started when inej talked about how kaz used to take her there. kaz smiles at the memories; the picknicks, the laughs and the smiles; the soft touches and slow kisses.

it’s a beautiful place, and he can’t understand why he hasn’t taken jordie there before. and as that thought settles in his mind, his office loses all its colour and it’s almost as if the room gets colder. he looks down at the papers in front of him. it’s always the damned papers.

kaz sighs and blinks as reality comes back to him. he needs her to come home, but he wants nothing more than for her to stay away. be safe, inej. don’t come back. not now. kaz doesn’t know what he’ll do if she catches it too. he looks at jordie again, he’s lying perfectly still, breaths shallow and slow. kaz’s squeezes his eyes shut. another boy appears in his mind, another jordie. i don’t want to lose him. again. kaz can’t lose another jordie.

it’s all his fault. if he had just ignored the work, and just cared about jordie, jordie might, he might not have caught the fever. kaz could have stood up from his chair and lifted jordie up in the air, just like jordie lifted dirtle turtles. and then maybe, just maybe, he would’ve stayed inside.

kaz remembers it as clear as if it was just a moment ago, as if it was now that jesper swung the door open to kaz’s office. if it was any other moment, any other day, and if jesper had had any other expression on his face, kaz would have scolded him, told him to get out. but there was something in jesper’s eyes that made kaz’s heart freeze, something dark in the grey of his eyes.

“it’s back”, he said, swallowed, frowned and looked into kaz’s eyes. “the plague.” and kaz’s eyes widened and he stared down at the desk. “since when?”

“a guest at the club had heard rumours.”

“rumours?” kaz raised an eyebrow, locked his gaze on jesper’s.

“they say a couple of students were found outside the university district. faces full of blisters. dead.”

the air seemed to vibrate, vibrate with something cold and evil, something kaz recognised. recognised as death herself. kaz frowned and stood up, looked around the room. he didn't say anything.

“kaz, what do we do?”

“find out if it’s true”, kaz said, voice low. jesper nodded and left.

it was true.

the next morning, jordie woke with a fever. and kaz’s world threatened to fall apart, right there and then.

kaz shakes his head, feels his chest tighten and tremors of worry rush through his bones and tears prick in his eyes. he looks at his small boy, his small small boy. his jordie, his son, his treasure. swallowing hard, he reaches out his hands and takes jordie’s in his two. he strokes jordie’s knuckles and frowns, breathes heavily. fight, he begs. fight it.

it almost feels like the last time the plague hit ketterdam. it’s as if the whole city has gone completely quiet. as if it were a person who had stopped breathing, as if it had a heart that could stop beating. silence rules the streets, not a soul can be seen walking on the cobblestones. those who must to go out wear capes and masks and gloves; they stay away from every other living soul as if they were contagious. and they are. that was the problem.

damn you, jordie, kaz thinks as his breath hitches with a sob. why do you have to always make friends?

kaz swallows hard and stares out through the window. there’s frost on the rooftops, a light gray veil of mist lies over the barrel. ketterdam is sleeping. terror lies in the air, you can almost taste it.

“papa…” kaz’s heart flips at the tiny voice. it’s barely even a whisper.

“yes, papa is here.” he leans closer and puts a hand on jordie’s forehead. kaz bows his head, grits his teeth. the boy is burning up. with shaking hands, he reaches for a damp rag on the bedside table and dabs jordie’s face.

a cough rips through jordie’s small body, leaving him trembling. he opens his big blue eyes. kaz feels as if that tired gaze finds him and cuts him open, rips out his heart and throws it away. he forces away the tears from his eyes and puts on a big smile. “how are you feeling?”

jordie blinks, did he even hear what kaz said? “can we go to the lake?” the boy asks.

kaz feels as if he’d been shot. “promise you’ll get better and i’ll show you the lake. i’ll go there with you and i’ll show you the trees and maybe, if the ice comes, we can skate.”

a weak smile flies past jordie’s face. he manages to nod. “will mama be here?”

kaz nods, “yes, she’s on her way home.” lie. she doesn’t even know what’s happening. kaz’s heart breaks. what will she say when she gets home? jordie, you must make it.

jordie looks peaceful, but his breathing is heavy and laboured. the sweat kaz just wiped away is back on jordie’s forehead. “can... i bring dirtles?”

kaz welcomes the laugh that jordie draws out of him. “yes, treasure, of course you can bring him. make sure he doesn’t get cold, though.” jordie smiles and breathes out, and kaz can see on his boy that it’s supposed to be a giggle. and then jordie falls asleep again.

it doesn’t take kaz long to realise that jordie won’t make it. he has got the money for medicine this time, but it doesn’t work. the plague has its claws embedded deep into jordie’s body, and it’s not letting go. the medik did everything they could, but left with a frown of sorrow on their face. jordie won’t survive this. and suddenly, kaz wishes inej will never come home.

kaz doesn’t know if he’s glad he’s immune or not. every day he hears of fathers and mothers catching the plague from caring for their children. most of them die. and he can’t deny it, a small part of him envies them. the dark embrace of death seems warm and welcoming in comparison to a life without your only child.

he sits by jordie’s bed again, his heart breaking and breaking and breaking over and over again. even if jordie whimpers, shudders, coughs and his blisters only increase in number, kaz tries to burn this into his memory. because right now, his boy is alive. right now, his reason still exists. and kaz holds onto it like it was the only thing keeping him from drowning.

kaz feels himself fall apart, as he sits there holding jordie’s relaxed hand as he sleeps. not caring if he could get sick or not he leans forward and kisses jordie’s forehead. “don’t leave me”, kaz wants to say, but he’s too tired. too tired from worrying. his heart beats too weakly, it staggers in the dark, every beat terrified this might be it, that this moment he has now with jordie, might be the last.

then jordie’s hand twitches in kaz’s, and big blue innocent eyes flutter open. “pa..” he moans.

“yes, jordie, i’m listening.”

jordie simply looks at kaz, blinks slowly and swallows, licks his lip, raises his eyebrows. he tilts his head, just a little. kaz feels his heart sink. “can we… go-”

“yes, treasure”, kaz promises. “i promise you, we’ll go to the lake.” lie. jordie smiles, but then his face screws up with a weak pained frown. he blinks and his lips quiver. “hurts…” he whimpers. jordie isn’t the type of child that complains when something hurts.

“it’ll be alright, jordie”, kaz lies, forces a smile, tries to think of something soothing to say. “remember, pain only makes you stronger.”

jordie nods, but a tear still slips out of his eyes. he lifts his hand weakly to dry his eye, but he only manages to touch one of his big blisters and he winces in pain. then he’s sobbing. “papa, make it stop”, he whispers and reaches for kaz. kaz can’t hear anything but the sound of his world crumbling, but he smiles and strokes jordie’s hair, careful not to touch the sores. and soon jordie’s breathing has calmed down and he’s fallen asleep again. kaz never leaves his side.

the next morning, it’s snowing. kaz opens the curtains and lets in the pale early winter sun. the rays fall on jordie and he opens his eyes weakly. kaz can see how he wants to laughs, he sees how the corner of jordie’s mouth twitches. he walks back to jordie’s bed and sits down, tries to smile even though he only wants to cry.

kaz never thought this day would come, and he partly hates himself for it, but he wishes it would be over. jordie is barely even the shell of the boy he was when he swirled into kaz’s office, holding dirtles. this boy before him is in pain, he’s struggling. kaz wants to be strong enough and tell him it’s okay to let go, but he’s selfish, and he hates himself for it. don’t leave me, he thinks.

“wanna… sleep”, jordie whimpers and tears fill his eyes. kaz squeezes his little hand. “hurts…”

kaz swallows his grief and puts on a smile. “i know it hurts, it’ll be better soon.” damned lies.

“lake”, jordie wheezes. “wanna skate…”

“i know”, kaz says, as he strokes jordie’s hair. big blue innocent eyes look into kaz’s and kaz wants to tear down all of ketterdam.

“where… mama?” jordie stirs in his bed, his gaze flicker’s around, tears in his eyes again.

“mama will be home soon.” more lies.

“want ma..” a sob tears through the small seven year old and he squeezes kaz’s hand weakly. tears roll down his cheeks, clear like crystals.

“look at the snow, jordie”, kaz says, swallowing the crying in his throat. inej, i need you. how can i do this alone? i need you.

jordie gazes at the window, he stirs again, as if he wanted to get up, his eyes sparkle for a moment, and for a moment, the jordie kaz recognises, is there. “can… wanna…” he whispers. kaz looks at jordie, sees how the boy’s eyes glitter with just a fragment of excitement - as much as he’s strong enough to show.

and for some reason kaz doesn’t know, he puts his hand on jordie’s cheek, just where there are no blooming sores, and says, “you want to see it?”

jordie looks into his eyes, his mouth falls open, and kaz smiles. he wraps jordie in the blanket and takes the small boy into his embrace. jordie closes his eyes and leans his head towards kaz’s chest, and kaz hopes the boy doesn’t understand why his chest trembles.

he walks down the stairs, and opens the door to the street. white. everything is white, covered, painted in the most beautiful glittering white. “look jordie”, kaz whispers, and sits down on the cold stairs, not caring for the snow. jordie lifts his gaze and looks at the white street. he huffs, looks amazed at the cloud of white smoke that raises from his lips when he breathes. kaz bends down and kisses jordie’s head. “isn’t it beautiful?” he asks. jordie nods weakly.

“remember when we threw snowballs at the others?”

jordie laughs, kaz knows, even though it’s barely even a huff. “did we win?” the boy whispers.

“we’re here, aren’t we?” kaz hugs jordie tight and smiles. when jordie’s gaze wanders away, he squeezes his eyes shut and bows his head, tries to make it look like everything is going to be alright. even if it’s not.

“pa..” jordie’s voice is barely even a voice, it’s the broken whimper from a dying child.

“yes, jordie, i’m listening.”

“can i sleep?” kaz doesn’t answer.

“we said… we’d go to the lake…” jordie pauses to breathe, his head slumps down to kaz’s chest. a wave of anguish washes over kaz. don’t. please. “but… ‘m tired”, jordie sobs and kaz feels his shirt get wet with tears.

kaz’s chest tightens, his throat aches and the tears burn behind his eyelids, yet he forces a smile. “yes”, he croaks. “it’s okay, jordie.”

jordie sobs and whimpers again. he snuggles closer. “thank you, papa”, he whispers, and kaz can’t hold the tears back. he holds jordie close, he strokes his hair, kisses the top of his head. “it’s okay to let go”, he says even though he’s screaming inside. don’t leave me. don’t slip away from me. “we’ll go to the lake when you wake up. you can rest now.”

the sun peers out from behind a cloud and the sun rays fall on them as they sit there on the stairs. the snowflakes glitter in the air and for a second kaz is breath taken by the beauty of it all. he smiles. “jordie, look the sun-” his voice fades.

all it takes is a quick look. and he knows.

“jordie”, he croaks, puts a hand on jordie’s cheek. he blinks, the tears blur his eyes, he can’t see. “please.” kaz draws in a sharp breath, looks up to the sky. why? is it someone there? don’t take him. can they hear?

“jordie, jordie, c’mon”, kaz tries. he claps jordie’s cheek lightly, strokes his hair, shakes him slightly. kaz stares at the boy in his arms, at the way jordie’s head rests on his arm, at his closed eyes and slightly open mouth.

“we’re gonna go to the lake”, he whispers, smiles, waits for jordie to open his eyes, look at him, say papa papa papapapapapa. just one more time, please just one more time.

“we can go skating…” kaz moves his hand over jordie’s hair again and again, and tears drip from his cheeks. he tries to smile. “you can bring dirtles.” kaz tries to laugh, he only manages a broken sob.

kaz lifts his hand to covers his eyes, as a sob tears through him. nonono, this can’t be real. drawing in a sharp breath, he looks at jordie again, eyes flickering quickly over the boy’s face. he claps jordie’s cheek again, shakes him gently. “open your eyes”, he sobs. “open your damn eyes, jordie.”

but jordie doesn’t move, he doesn’t giggle and he doesn’t smile and he doesn’t speak. he doesn’t breathe. and kaz puts his hand on the back of jordie’s head and pulls him close, holds him tightly, just like he did when the boy was just a baby. he’s awfully light.

kaz feels himself fall apart, shatter, over and over. there’s a big black hole in his chest where his heart once was, and he’s drowning in anguish. he sobs, loudly, almost madly, and clutches jordie close, as close as he can.

“i promise we’ll go to the lake, jordie, please we’ll go, i’ll show you…” kaz’s breath hitches, he stumbles on the words, he sobs, he cries, trembles, clutches jordie’s body closer. he shakes his head in denial. “please, no, no..”

the sun falls upon them, and kaz closes his eyes, his lips part and a heartbroken cry leaves him, echoes through the barrel. there is no word for a parent who loses their child. now he understands why.

he remembers the first time he held him, the first time he looked into those sky blue eyes, the first time jordie called him papa. kaz remembers all times they smiled and laughed, all the times jordie made him mad and all moments kaz didn’t care for, all the times he thought jordie was annoying and just in the way.

how he wishes he could take it all back. jordie, i’m sorry. please forgive me.

inej’s unshed tears stains kaz’s cheeks, her unspoken words ring in his ears, and her not yet heard screams makes him want to die. she doesn’t know. she can’t pray for him. so kaz lends his lips to her, and he stumbles on the words, as he tries to utter a prayer.

“keep him safe”, he whispers, not sure if anyone is listening. “take him home.” home is right here, and jordie just left, but he thinks inej perhaps would have said something like that. “i don’t know how to do this..” he sobs. “just take care of him, keep him safe, keep him safe…” he tries to pray, tries to remember how his da used to do it, how inej does it. but all he can think of is jordie. both of them. look after him, kaz pleads.

the words blur together, just like kaz’s eyes never seem to stop blurring with tears, his mind is a mess of pain and memories and shattered dreams. he doesn’t move, he can’t, he just sits there, clutching jordie’s lifeless body.

he doesn’t see anything but jordie’s sore covered cheek and dark locks. he doesn’t see the small footprints in the snow. he doesn’t see how two pair of prints disappear along the street. the other small, the other smaller. the snow continues to fall, and soon they’re gone. all evidence of anyone having walked there is gone. all that’s left is the sun. and the half empty cup of chocolate right next to the wall, on the last step on the stairs. the cup that no one placed there.

“show him the lake”, kaz whispers, as if someone could here. and it’s almost as if Kaz can hear a voice in the wind, whispering i will.

and kaz thinks to himself, yes, jordie, I’m listening.

[starlight-writes-stuff]

SO HEAR ME OUT an nsfw alphabet for draco

hey bestie - im literally so excited to do this (: i have a guilty pleasure of reading nsfw alphabets so u really hit the nail on the head with this request . n e ways , enjoy !

AYO LOOK AT THESE ! : smut (duh but still) , hair pulling , breeding k!nk , unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it) , masturbation , choking , light bondage , praise kink , general adult themes and content so please only read if ur okay with that .

reblogs are always appreciated ! <3 ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

draco is the literal definition of a fluff fic after sex - hes so soft and loving and affectionate . if the sex was on the rougher side , draco goes out of his way to kiss any bruises , cuts , or red marks he may have left on you, soothing the sinfully painful spots with soft touches of his suddenly gentle fingertips.  

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

draco is built like a greek mf god , and he knows it . he’s all lean , toned muscles and his alabaster pale skin only makes him look more ethereal . draco is quite proud of his body and isn’t afraid to show off if needed.

draco literally loves everything about you , and you’ve tried over and over to get him to pick his most favorite - he never does it because he’s a stubborn little shit and refuses to let you think that he values one part of you over any other . finally , you wore him down to coming up with a top 3 : your hands , your hair , and your chest .

 your hands as they fit perfectly in his , they brush his hair out of his eyes with a gentleness that melts him every time (and the way you dig your nails into his back or his arms iykyk) . 

draco loves your hair mostly because its the exact opposite of his own ; long , thick , and chocolate brown . he’s constantly playing with your hair , whether that's running his hands through it or gently tugging on it to get your attention . he would kill you if you ever told anyone , but draco taught himself how to braid your hair so he would have something repetitive to do to calm his anxiety .

 draco loves your chest : he's such a boob guy . he is such a boob guy . even in a non-sexual context , draco loves having his hands up your shirt just feeling how soft your breasts are , the way that he can feel your heartbeat if you’re still enough . when things are getting *frisky* draco loves your tits - in his hands , using his mouth on them , titty-fucking you , literally everything . 

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

draco has a huge breeding kink , but is simultaneously terrified of getting you pregnant. he knows that he wants to be a dad eventually , but draco malfoy is the king of daddy issues™ and can’t fathom having a child right now .

that doesn’t stop him from filling you up with his cum every time you guys fuck - draco loves watching your face as you take his entire load , begging him not to pull out . 

once he does , though , draco’s head is immediately between your legs watching his manhood drip out of you , fingering it out of you while you whimper at the way he seems to hit all the right spots . 

he’s extremely thankful for the tiny , yellow birth control pills that you’re on , and he reminds you every day to take them .

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

draco had never , ever said i love you to someone during or after sex until the two of you had your first time . now , its a normal occurrence for draco to tell you how much he loves you as he thrusts into your pretty , fucked out body . he lets his forehead fall to yours , moaning the words in between heavy breaths as he finishes inside you .

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

draco had a couple of hookups , and a complicated friends with benefits situation before the two of you got together , so he was somewhat experienced by the time you guys finally got down to it . he made sure you felt so good the entire time , using every trick in his book to make you cum around him over and over until he reached completion as well . 

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

draco is a sucker for regular old missionary . he likes being able to watch your face as you take every inch of him , watching your facial expressions change and morph under the influence of his pleasure . if he’s eager to feel you - all of you - draco will hook one of your legs over his shoulders , giving him better access to your sex . this is the one instance where draco wont keep eye contact with you : he can't resist watching himself slide in and out of you , coated in your cum .

however

he's an absolute sucker for you riding him , too . he loves to let you take control and chase your pleasure - plus the visual of you bouncing up and down on his cock , eyes rolling back into your head as you hit all the right spots is enough to send him over the edge . if you get tired while on top , draco will gladly hold your hips in place , fucking up into you until you practically collapse into him , entirely taken over by the force of your orgasm. 

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

intimacy is something that didn’t come easy for you and draco; he’d never been with someone that he actually loved before you . there was a deep intensity to the emotions shared between you two during sex , and draco viewed that time between the both of you as something almost sacred . foreplay , or just general teasing can be silly with you two , but making love is more serious . 

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

draco keeps himself trimmed , but not entirely clean shaven , and the hair down there is darker than his signature white-blond locs .

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

(refer back to g but i could talk about this for days) draco is incredibly romantic when it comes to sex . your first time was like something out of a movie - draco had lit candles everywhere , filling the room with soft , flickering light , as well as changing the sheets on your bed to a soft , white cotton . he’d taken his time making you comfortable ; you and draco had talked through all your fears for hours before he laid a hand on you . once you were ready , draco’s touches had been soft and slow and tender all over your body - he’d made you feel like the angel you were . quickly , you learned that draco wasn’t like that just because it had been your first time ; draco made an effort to make sex just as special every time. 

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

draco was raised thinking that masturbation was a shameful act , something dirty and below him (you literally can not tell me that this isn't true i'll fight it until the day i die . as much as i love narcissa the malfoy family fkn sucks and they damaged draco so bad . anyways) so it’s very rare that he’ll get himself off. when he does , its somewhere where he can quickly get rid of the evidence , such as the shower . 

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

while draco makes sex between you two meaningful and special , that doesn’t mean that he’s afraid to be rough (after yall have had a long talk about it before where you gave him enthusiastic consent ofc . ) 

draco loves to pull your hair or wrap a hand around your throat while he’s hitting it from the back , so much so that he’ll bring your back up to his chest . 

he really enjoys a bit of light choking here and there - just enough to watch your pretty face flush with blood , making your moans the slightest bit weaker . 

draco loves to tie your hands up above your head while he’s eating you out as well ; it makes you take all the pleasure he’s willing to give , and he lives for the way your body writhes and bucks under his skillful tongue. 

you literally can not tell me that draco doesn’t have a praise kink - both giving and receiving . draco loves to tell you how good of a job your doing whether you're sucking him off or taking all of him inside you , and he’s constantly reassuring you that you’re doing such a good job.

however

he fucking loves when you praise him as well (my theory as to why is so fkn sad so we wont go over that here) but that boy lives for you telling him how good he’s making you feel , and when you encourage him nodding and whining for him to go faster . its the one thing that undoes him almost immediately , and he flushes furiously every time you tell him just how fantastic he’s doing .  

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

you and draco rarely get it on outside of your bedrooms at hogwarts , or your childhood rooms when you’re home for the summer - but there’s an exception to every rule. draco has absolutely ruined you in the quidditch changing rooms after a rather brutal loss , and he’s the king of shower sex , too.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

praise !! draco loves you telling him how good his dick feels , or his tongue , or his hands . he also appreciates when you’re rather direct with him - telling draco exactly where you want him , what you want him to do - it drives him absolutely insane . hearing such dirty words come from your sweet , innocent mouth kills him , and it makes draco that much more excited.

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

there's nothing draco wouldn’t try at least once , but he’s rather uncomfortable with voyeurism. he hates the idea of anyone else seeing your body , watching how you wriggle and whine underneath him as he makes you cum . while the two of you have done it in some questionable locations , draco had made sure that no one could see . 

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

while draco loves your mouth wrapped around him , that boy could spend all day between your legs . he's nothing short of obsessed with eating you out , and its one of his favorite things to do for you . he cant help the way it makes him feel - hearing you whimper and moan while you pull on his hair , your back arching off the bed when his tongue flicks in just the right way . he gets a sort of high from it , and absolutely prides himself on making you cum with just his tongue . 

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

it really depends on the day . draco loves fucking you slow , watching his manhood slide in and out of your pretty body coated in your arousal , but he cant resist fucking you so hard he leaves bruises , either . if its just a regular day , the two of you fall somewhere in between , a perfect mix of rough and sweet . 

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

draco loves a good quickie every once in a while ! sometimes he needs a release , and your body is his favorite vessel . usually quickies are where the two of you get a little more risky - he’ll grab your arm , pulling you into an empty classroom or the shower and take you then and there . 

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

yes and no . draco would try anything and everything , especially if you asked him to , but there are some things that are a one-and-done for him . the two of you are good at talking about that stuff - if something made one of you uncomfortable , the other would understand 100% . its all about the balance of boundaries and still being adventurous. 

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

draco would fuck you all day if you would let him . he can make you cum many , many times before he’ll allow himself to even get close , and even then his stamina is through the roof . he can go at least 3 rounds if not more , and switch positions as many times as you’d like . 

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

while draco doesn’t mind you using toys on yourself , they do make him slightly jealous . you gently tease him about this sometimes , how he works himself into a sulk over an inanimate object - however, that usually leads to your hands tied to his headboard , draco holding a vibrator on your clit until you can’t take anymore orgasms. 

you two have expirimented with using your vibrator during sex , but draco much prefers playing with your clit over using an outside source , and seretly , you do too . he’s amazing with his hands , and rubs tight , fast circles onto your sensitive nub while his hips snap against yours only intensifying the sensation .

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

draco loves to tease you - he likes to watch the way you come undone under the slightest touches of his hands . very rarely does he tease you for long - he can’t resist giving you what you want , what you’re begging him for in that high , breathy voice .

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he’s a loud motherfucker all the time , and the bedroom is no exception . draco’s moans are music to your ears , and they turn you on more than anything . his already rough voice only gets raspier , and deeper , too . he loves to talk dirty to you , but as he approaches his orgasm , he can barely form full sentences . his cocky pillow talk turns to almost desperate moans and whimpers as his thrusts get sloppier and quicker , his hips snapping against yours hard . his groans as he cums are heavenly , especially since he’s usually buried his head in your neck or dropped his forehead to yours by then . 

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

we all know that draco have a superiority / god complex (as he should 😌) , and this manifests in the bedroom - you would’ve never known , though , if it weren’t for a complete accident . you and draco had been studying together , and he’d asked one of the yes or no questions written on a flashcard .  not thinking about your actions , you’d answered the question with “no, sir” - then physically felt draco’s entire body stiffen underneath you . you’d picked up on it immediately , blood flooding your face as you’d asked him if he liked it .

yes , he did .

he loves when you call him sir as he’s fucking the life out of you - like , he has to stop himself from cumming on the spot . 

when you want to fuck with him for whatever reason , you’ll jokingly call him ‘sir’ in front of your friends

you’ll pay for it later , though

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

mans is built in every sense of the word . draco is quite well endowed , which was something that took you a bit to get used to . he was never one to measure - it just seemed wrong to him , like he was doing something dirty - but by your estimations , draco is about 7 inches . he’s thicker than most , too , which only adds to your pleasure . 

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

draco lives in a constant state of horny™ . he can’t help it - something about you brings out his most primal instincts . he’s so in love with you and your body that he can rarely keep his hands off of it , but he knows how to control himself . he tries to match your sex drive ; when yours is high , his is too , but he doesn’t mind waiting on you to give him the green light if you’re libido has been lower . 

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

its safe to say that the both of you are extremley tired after sex - its quite the workout . draco is so soft once he’s finished , and he would live in that post-sex haze forever if he could ; he’s all sweet kisses and skin-to-skin contact , but he’ll usually wait until you fall asleep on him before he can drift off . something about making sure that you’re comfortable enough to sleep on him fills draco with a sense of immense pride . once you’ve fallen asleep, depending on how vigorous everything was , draco will usually fade pretty soon after ; on the off chance that he still has some energy , draco stays up and watches you . he looks at you as if you were a piece of art , usually following the soft lines and curves of your face with a gentle finger ; admiring you like the angel you are .

[winterscaptain]

i really love a joyful future bc its so soft!! but like imagine Jack and Hotch talking about Haley after the twins are born, like having time alone with one of your parents when you have so many siblings is already kind of hard pressed so like imagine idk the anniversary of her funeral or something and they talk about her and go out for ice cream or whatever and then come back and they both are kinda down bc theyre sad but then like seeing everyone cheers them up even a little :( i cant,,,

haley day

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader a joyful future fic

oops i made it a fic and its only a little off topic! please forgive any errors - i wrote this in like two hours yikes

universe: a joyful future words: 2291 warnings: discussion of death

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed! edited: november 27th, 2020

When you woke up, Aaron was already gone. There was a note on his pillow, and you stretched as you reached over for it. 

Jack and I are off for our hike at Maryland Heights. We’ll be back sometime in the late morning/ early afternoon. We won’t have service until we’re back down the mountain - don’t be nervous if you don’t hear from us. 

We’ll swing by to pick everyone up so we can go visit H all together. I’ll call when we’re an hour out. 

I love you. 

A

You held the note to your chest for a moment before slipping it into the manila envelope in your bedside drawer. You kept all of Aaron’s little notes - post-its from work, little things in your go bag, notes from mornings like this. They brought an absurd amount of joy to you, and he kept writing them, so you kept keeping them. You weren’t even sure if he knew you kept them, but you supposed some little fun secrets were good for a marriage every once and a while. 

Isaac was already up - your sweet boy, with a bowl of cereal in his lap and cartoons on. 

“Good morning, my love,” you said to him as you passed, kissing him on the head. 

He wiggled in his seat. “Hi, momma.” 

You continued into the kitchen, making yourself a cup of (already brewed) coffee. “How long have you been up?”

“I woke up when Jack and Daddy were getting ready, but I couldn’t fall back to sleep so Daddy put the TV on and put cereal where I could reach it and told me I was only allowed to wake you up if there was a fire or someone got hurt.” 

You huffed a laugh at his matter-of-fact tone - imitating Aaron beat for beat. “Is that so?”

He nodded. 

You returned with your coffee mug and planted yourself next to Isaac on the couch. 

“Momma?” He asked, after a little while. 

“Mhmm?” You set your coffee down on the table and tucked your legs up under you, facing him. 

“What’s Haley Day?” 

You opened your arms to him, and he put his cereal down and curled into you. “Can we talk about Haley Day when Dad and Jack get home?” 

He nodded and you pressed a kiss into his dark hair. 

+++

The boys leisurely hiked the path in relative silence, enjoying both each other’s company and the scenery. 

“How are you, Dad?” Jack asked, after a while. 

“I’m good, bud.” He thought about it for a moment and laughed lightly to himself. “I’m really good, actually.” 

A small smile crossed Jack’s face. “That’s good.” 

“What are you thinking about over there?” Aaron said, noting the pensive expression on his son’s face. It was odd - it was a little like looking in the mirror, but Jack would pull these faces that were so Haley. It had startled Aaron more than once. 

“Who says I’m thinking about anything?” 

“I can hear you thinking.” 

Jack rolled his eyes. “Fuckin’ profiler.” 

“Excuse me?” Aaron laughed. He was a stickler for language around the little ones, but he knew Jack swore like a sailor when he was out of the house. 

“I said, fuckin’ profiler.” Jack tutted. “Looks like your hearing is failing you in your advanced age, old man.” 

Aaron pointed at him, eyebrows raised. “Watch it.” 

After a moment, they both broke, laughing out loud. They quieted after a minute, walking a little closer together. 

“I’m just thinking about mom - Haley,” he clarified. “It kind of hit me this morning how…much that all was.” He looked at Aaron, brown eyes curious. “Are you okay, Dad?”

One side of Aaron’s mouth pulled up. “I’m alright. It was really hard for a while, but it gets easier to carry. I know you don’t remember, but you’re old enough now to know that the year before Haley died was...not great. That’s what I had the hardest time handling.” 

“The divorce, right?” Jack’s head dropped as he looked at his feet, still marching confidently up the rock-lined path. Aaron was suddenly grateful, deeply so, for the gift of his son. 

“Yeah. Certainly not a shining moment for either one of us, but I think she made the right choice. She was stronger than me by a long shot, and always managed to do what had to be done.” 

Jack hummed thoughtfully, and Aaron knew he could take what came next. 

“When she was killed, I had to grapple with the idea that she died angry at me.” Aaron looked up, letting the dappled light from the trees strike his face. 

“I don’t think so.” 

“What do you mean?”

Jack kept his eyes up, trained on the path, as he spoke. “I think that’s an easy way to feel guilty, but she didn’t die mad at you, Dad. Aunt Emily told me how brave you were, how you talked to her until you couldn’t anymore.” 

Aaron opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted. 

“Don’t be upset with Em. I asked and she told. Not her fault.” Jack pulled a mouthful of water from his pack before he continued. “I think she wanted you to know how much she loved you, you know? Like, Emily told me she reminded you to not be so serious all the time and to tell me stories about how much fun you guys had when you were young and cool.” He shot a smirk over to Aaron, who rolled his eyes with a smile. Jack squinted into the middle distance. “Were you mad at her that day?”

“No,” Aaron answered quickly. “Not at all.” 

“What were you, then?”

“Scared.” 

“Her too, probably.” Jack’s tone was simple, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to understand. Maybe it was. “You made her feel less scared and you kept calm, even when you were probably more scared than you’ve ever been in your whole life. I only remember her a little, but I think she’d love you for that, don’t you?”

Aaron was quiet for a moment, just looking at Jack as they walked. “When did you get so smart, kid?”

Jack shrugged. “You didn’t answer the question.” 

Yep. He’s my son. 

He couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his mouth as he retorted, “You’re right, I didn’t.” 

Jack crossed the path to bump his father’s shoulder. They were almost the same height, and Aaron imagined Jack would pass him up by the end of the year. “I love you, Dad.” 

“I love you too, Jack.” He reached up to ruffle Jack’s hair, but he ducked away just in time. 

“C’mon, man.” 

Aaron scoffed. “You are your mother’s son - that much is certain.” 

“Which one?” Jack asked with a grin. 

After a moment of thought, Aaron huffed another laugh and said, “Unfortunately, both.” 

Jack’s grin softened. “You miss her, don’t you?”

“I do. But guess what?”

His brow furrowed. 

“You remind me of her so much sometimes it’s like she’s right here with us, you know that?” 

This time, Jack let his father muss the hair on top of his head. “Really?” 

Aaron nodded. “All the time.” Then again, under his breath. “All the time.” 

+++

Aaron called you around noon on the way back from Harper’s Ferry. “We’ll be home in about 45 minutes - traffic isn’t bad at all and we’re just now at the state line.” 

“Sounds good, honey. I’ll start the ball rolling with the girls.” 

You could hear a pair of chuckles on the other end of the line and perhaps a muttered “Good luck with that shit.”

Language, Jack Hotchner. 

Chewing on your lower lip, you added, “Also, Isaac asked. I think it’s time - for him, at least.” 

“Alright. We’ll go sit on the porch when I get home. Jack, are you good helping the girls get ready?” 

“For sure,” Jack’s assent sounded a little distant, but it made you smile.  

+++

You and Aaron settled on the porch swing with Isaac on your lap. Aaron held out his hands palm-up, and Isaac rested his little fingers on Aaron’s. 

Aaron closed his hands around Isaac’s, holding his attention. It was something you two had established early on with the kids: when Dad holds both of your hands, look at him and listen. 

“Mom told me you asked about Haley Day today.” 

Isaac nodded. 

“Before I tell you what Haley Day means, I want to remind you that Mom and I love all four of you exactly the same, okay?” 

Isaac nodded. 

“Alright, bud.” Aaron took a deep breath, and you smiled at him over Isaac’s head. “You know how you and Sophia and Caroline came out of Momma’s tummy?”

Little brown eyes looked back at you and you nodded encouragingly. 

“Yes.”

“You know how Mom and I are married and wear these rings and live together?”

He nodded. 

“And of course you know Aunt Jessica, right?”

A smile broke out across Isaac’s face as he nodded again. 

“Before I was married to your mom, I was married to Haley. Haley is Aunt Jessica’s sister, and Jack came out of Haley’s tummy before your mom and I met.”

There was a little bit of confusion splashed across Isaac’s face. “So Momma isn’t Jack’s momma?” 

You put your hands on his shoulders, and he looked up at you. “Not everyone is like you and me, bud. You came out of my tummy and I’m also your mom, but some people’s moms aren’t the same person they came out of. Does that make sense?” You were going to continue, but you closed your mouth. 

We aren’t going to start the “not everyone has a mom” conversation today. Baby steps. 

“So you’re still Jack’s mom, too?”

“Yes, sir,” you said with a smile. “But at the same time, Haley is also Jack’s mom. So he kind of has two moms, which is also a normal thing for some families. I’m what’s technically called a step-mom.” 

He nodded sagely and said, “Some of my friends at school have step-moms,” but then his face fell into almost comical confusion. “Where did Haley go?” 

You gestured to Aaron and Isaac whirled around. Aaron’s eyes flickered back to yours, and you returned his gaze with soft eyes. 

Aaron took another breath before speaking again. “Haley died when Jack was four - just a little younger than you are now - and so it’s really important for Jack and me to have Haley Day so we can remember her and spend time together. Today is her forty-ninth birthday, and sometimes birthdays of people who died are really hard.” He swallowed, and his eyes misted over. He looked up at you. 

It’s okay. Don’t hide from your son. It’s okay. 

He blinked rapidly, and a few tears fell. Tears pricked at your eyes as well as Isaac scrambled off your lap and into Aaron’s. 

“Mom said that people who have died can’t come back and you can’t see them anymore. Is that true?” He asked. 

Aaron wrapped one arm around Isaac and placed his other hand on your knee. You grabbed it right away, holding him tight. “Yeah, bud. Mom’s right.”

“Do you miss her? Sometimes I miss my friends who moved and I can’t see them anymore.” 

Aaron laughed and squeezed Isaac tight to his chest. “I do miss her. It’s a lot like when your friends move away. She was one of my best friends.”

“Is Mom one of your best friends?”

You brushed tears off your cheeks with your fingers and grinned at Aaron. 

“Yes. Your mom is one of my best friends,” he said with a smile that matched yours. “And Mom knew Haley, too and they were friends. There are a lot of pictures of Haley and Jack and me and Mom on the bookshelf in the living room, but they’re a little high up for you to see them. I can show them to you later, if you want.” 

There was quiet for a moment, as you both let Isaac process the concept of life and death and parenthood in his little four-year-old brain. 

That’s a lot all at once. 

“Do we get to do anything special for Haley Day?”

Aaron looked down at him, “Yes, sir. We’re going to go visit the place where she’s buried and then go out for ice cream. How does that sound?”

“Really good.” 

“Really good, alright!” Aaron rose with renewed vigor, and Isaac clung to his neck as he readjusted his grip. “Can you go get some shoes on and we can go?” Isaac nodded and Aaron set him down with a pat on his shoulder. 

You tucked yourself under Aaron’s arm as Isaac ran back into the house. Through the window, you could see Jack swinging Sophia up over his head as a reward for getting her shoes on. Caroline was attached to his pant leg, begging to go next.

“That went alright.” 

He nodded. “Yeah, it did.” He kissed the side of your head and inhaled. “Thank you.”

You looked up at him. “For what?”

With his hand, he gestured vaguely to everything around you. “Being here, I guess?” He laughed lightly through his nose. “Just - thank you. I know it’s not always easy.” 

You placed your left hand on his chest and rested your head against him as you spoke. “I know you worry, but I have never once felt like second-best or a replacement. Not even a little.” 

“I do worry,” he said quietly. 

“Don’t, please.” You patted his chest twice, a break. “Now, I believe we promised at least one of our children ice cream and I would hate to have a mutiny on our hands. We’re outnumbered two to one and I don’t need Reid to tell me those aren’t great odds.” 

He laughed and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. “There’s no better partner to fend off hangry toddlers than you, darling.”

+++

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[mrs-theirin]

understanding.

so uh this originally started as “hating rebecca hours”, then it was loving nate hours, and then suddenly at the last second it became.......mutually respecting adam hours??? so here we are. @magebastard this one’s for you <3

calliope langford x nate sewell / calliope & adam du mortain, 2585 words. mommy issues paired with getting to know your stuffy leader better (also on ao3 <3)

The apartment is quiet. 

Mind-numbingly quiet, actually.

“Stay home and enjoy yourself,” Tina had said, practically pushing Calliope out the door, a wide smile plastered on her face that said if you don’t go home right now I will end you. Even Verda came out from the lab to say goodbye, his gentle eyes hardened in a way that let her know there was no fighting him. 

She needs something to do. The apartment just isn’t the same without Farah’s laughter, Adam’s groans of distaste, the irritating clouds of Morgan’s smoke—which still lingers on everything she owns. Honestly, she’s going to take Morgan’s cigarettes and shove them somewhere unpleasant—and Nate’s warm, calming presence. She debates sending him a text, maybe asking him for coffee, but the idea leaves as quickly as it came. 

He’s probably busy. She’s sure he has more important things to do than—

Im bad at this texting thing. Coffee

Calliope laughs. Before she can respond, another text from Nate comes in.

That was supposed to be a question. I cant find the apostrophe or question mark. I would like to have coffee with you. 

Another text, separate from the last.

Now, if you can. I heard you were sent home from work and I know how much you like the pastries there.

Her heart races at the thought of Nate frantically typing away at his phone, confused but determined to send her a text. She must admit, it’s a hilarious image, and she laughs as she sends her response.

relax and look for the “123” on the left of the keyboard. you’ll find all your punctuation needs there. and yes, i’d love to go get coffee. meet me there?

Ah! Found it. Thank you. And no, I’m outside your apartment. 

Calliope straightens, deigning to push aside the curtain and peek out at the sidewalk. Sure enough, Nate stands awkwardly outside, staring down at his phone. His gaze flickers up as her hand makes the curtain dance, and he waves politely. She waves back. She mouths “be right there” and pulls away, cursing herself for looking outside in the first place. Did he just run here? Was he just outside her apartment when he sent the original text? Did he just assume she would say yes? 

She rushes to her bedroom, ripping the nicest—and hopefully subtle—thing she owns out of her closet and throws it on, stopping in front of the mirror to undo the messy bun she has her bright orange hair in and tussle it into something appropriate. She glances at the panicked look in her eyes, and tries to calm down. What is she freaking out for? It’s just Nate. 

I would fight through any form of technology if I knew you were on the other end.

Nate, who can make her face flush with just a few words. Nate, who towers over her, his warm brown eyes staring into her soul. Nate, who is patiently standing outside waiting to take her to coffee. She tries not to hold out too much hope that it’s a date.

“Hey!” she says when she finally makes it outside, unconsciously taking too large of a step and standing uncomfortably close to him, which she quickly rectifies by inching backwards. They both laugh nervously. “Did you—”

“I was in the neighborhood,” Nate rushes out, his face flushing. “It’s a beautiful day out.”

She accepts the obvious lie with a face full of heat. “Let’s go then.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She loves the way he laughs. 

At Haley’s, he relaxes; his shoulders slouching, his gaze softening. He is no longer scanning every person on the street, trying to gauge if they’re a threat. He is talking and he is joking and he is smiling and he is laughing. And every time he throws his head back to laugh at some stupid sarcastic joke she makes, she melts. 

He sighs dreamily, then faces her with soft, kind eyes. “I really missed you, Calliope.”

Her heart thumps in her chest. “I missed you too. You could’ve called, you know.”

His smile fades. “I wasn’t allowed to. The Agency thought it was better if we just...left you alone for a while.”

“So I could recover?”

Nate turns away, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah. That’s it.”

Before she can ask him to elaborate, she hears a familiar clack of heels behind her. Her body tenses. “Calliope,” her mother’s voice says, clear and professional, though surprised. She wasn’t expecting her daughter to be here. 

Calliope doesn’t even turn. Her hand clenches around her coffee and she clears her throat. “Rebecca.”

Something in her dies when she sees Rebecca take the seat next to her. It is crushed to ash as she turns to Nate, who is smiling kindly at Rebecca, ordering another pastry for her, inviting her to stay longer than Calliope prefers. Her mother hums gently. “Coffee date?” she asks, though there is something else in her voice. Something resentful. Something...cautious.

“And what if it was?” Calliope mumbles into her coffee, as Nate replies, “Oh no, just catching up.”

“You should be careful about how much time you spend in the open, Agent Sewell,” Rebecca offers, and it’s obvious why she’s saying it. Calliope begins to shake, as she always does around her mother, and washes her resentment down with her coffee. The warm liquid contrasts the coldness of her bitterness. 

It wasn’t always this way with Rebecca; there was a time where they laughed and smiled and shot each other with water guns. But eventually laughter dies out, smiles fade away, and water guns change to Glock 22s. Love changes to resentment. Dads die. 

She understands why secrets were kept. She hates that Rebecca doesn’t understand why she would be upset by the secrets that were kept. The way Rebecca’s eye twitches when Nate leans into Calliope is sign enough on its own. Can’t even be happy with the circumstances she has, apparently. 

“Of course,” Nate says, professional as always. “Understood.”

“Let the man...or, vamp, live,” Calliope retorts. “We’re just having coffee.”

Rebecca presses her lips together tightly. “Calliope. Do I need to remind you why you’ve been wearing turtlenecks for months?”

She chokes on her coffee, slamming the cup down on the counter, the paper crunching in her hand. Typical of her mother to remind her of trauma, trauma that deeply affects her, as if it’s just a statement she can throw out at any given moment, like a quick anecdote or conversation starter. How can one look at their daughter having her neck torn out by a killer vampire and think, “This will be good for future scoldings”? And her scoldings, well, of course they aren’t scoldings, they’re concerns. Worries from a concerned mother. A mother who was so concerned about her daughter that she left for years with no contact, leaving the local librarians to raise Calliope. 

Calliope tenses as she feels a hand on her shoulder, but deflates when she realizes what side the hand is on. Nate squeezes her shoulder affectionately, and she cannot thank him enough for being a rock. If Rebecca is the storm—cold, predictable, unrelenting—then Nate is the hearth; warm, welcoming, reassuring. He smiles softly at her. 

“Of course you don’t,” she finally speaks, subconsciously scratching at the scars. “But considering I’ll be working with the Agency again soon, getting coffee won’t matter much, will it? Or are you trying to say that I can only put myself at risk if I’m not having fun?”

Rebecca’s eyebrow twitches as she sighs. “I’m only trying to look out for you—”

“No, you aren’t.” Her voice is stern, but quiet. Don’t want to draw too much attention. That’s the way it’s always been, right?. “You’re looking out for yourself and your reputation as a ‘good mother’, but it’s all crap anyway. If you wanted to preserve that, you wouldn’t be begging me every 5 seconds to tell you you’re doing a good job.” 

“Calliope,” Nate gently warns, and she slowly shrugs his hand off of her shoulder. Now is not the time for another one of those sad, soulful looks he gives her when she argues with Rebecca. She doesn’t have the effort. 

Rebecca’s lips are thinned again, in that disappointed scowl Calliope’s seen so much of since this whole Agency business started. “Sweetheart,” she starts, and Calliope is already cringing away, already preparing herself for whatever pandering crap Rebecca is about to spew. “I want you to be safe.”

“But not happy, clearly.”

“Calliope Langford.” Rebecca’s voice is harsh, but it only manages to enrage Calliope more. Her mother isn’t stern often, usually grabbing for the ‘soft and meek’ route, but on the occasion she does show annoyance, it’s never a pleasant feeling. Not because it upsets Calliope, but because she knows it’s a ruse. If she holds out, her mother will give in, because they both know she can’t stand being the bad guy (despite making herself the bad guy in every single conversation they have). “This is dangerous business. I don’t want to see you hurt. I do love you, whether you believe me or not.”

Calliope stands abruptly, slapping a $20 bill on the counter. “Why don’t you concern yourself less with whether I believe you, and more with whether you believe yourself. Come on, Nate.”

She starts to walk away, but hesitates when Nate doesn’t immediately follow, out of his seat but hunched over, like a kicked, obedient puppy. A twinge of betrayal tugs at Calliope’s chest, but she waves it off, instead holding up her hand, exasperated. She leaves without another word. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rings.

Once. 

Twice. 

Three times. 

Calliope sighs in exasperation, about to hit the red ‘end call’ button, when the phone finally clicks, a stern, professional voice coming through as clear as day: “Special Agent Adam du Mortain. Is this something important?”

She rolls her eyes, unable to keep the smile off of her face. “It’s just me, Adam. You don’t have to answer the phone like that.”

“Is this something important,” he repeats, though this time it’s less of a question. 

She gives in. “I was wondering if you wanted to spar. You said you were...less than impressed with my combat skills, so why don’t you teach me?”

The line is silent for a moment, before Adam lets out a small huff. “Where?” 

She blinks. She hadn’t thought of that. “...Here?” she offers, uncertain.

He sighs heavily. “Open the door.” 

The call ends and she is rooted in place for a moment before she springs up from her couch, opening the door and peeking out. Adam is standing on her stairs, looming over her, and he raises a single eyebrow, making the action of entering her apartment. She steps aside and watches him analyze the living room. “Move the table,” he says.

“You’re the one with the super strength,” she jokes, closing the door behind her. “Can’t you do it?”

He glares at her. “Are you serious about training with me?”

She straightens under his gaze, nodding sharply. “Yes,” she responds, though it comes out like a nervous question.

“Then move the table. And slide the couch away too. We need plenty of room.”

She salutes him, tying her hair back into a high ponytail. “Can do!”

He groans. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why didn’t you call one of the others?” Adam asks, crossing his arms and staring down at the panting, sweating Calliope, who is holding onto her knees for dear life.

“Oh, you know—” she says between heavy breaths. “You’re starting to grow on me.”

“Your form is poor.”

“Oh, I know!” she wheezes. “You actually told me that, a bunch of times, like two seconds ago.”

If she didn’t know any better, she can swear she sees a ghost of a smile threatening to appear on Adam’s lips, then it’s gone as quickly as it came. He regards her with complete and utter disappointment. “They would’ve been nicer.”

“Ah, but nice isn’t what I need. I need to learn how to fight.”

This time Adam does actually smile, though it’s still not quite a full smile, more like pride over seeing a lesson learned. He cocks his head to the side. “It could also be that you’re fighting with Nate.”

She hesitates for a moment before scoffing. “I’m not fighting with Nate. Fighting would require words, of which there were none.”

Her two seconds of hesitation were enough for Adam, because he nods his head sharply, and scowls. “Figure it out. I don’t want you two at odds next time we’re all together.”

“Why?” Calliope drags the table back to its original spot, collapsing on the couch with a heave. “I thought I was a distraction.”

He joins her on the couch, his posture as formal as ever, the distance an obvious sign of something. “You are a distraction. But you’re more of a distraction when Nate is running through his mind trying to make up a list of ways he can make it up to you.”

“Make what up to me?”

“You’d have to tell me that.”

The two stare at each other before Calliope sighs, smiling. “Thank you for coming over. You didn’t have to.”

“I don’t have to do anything I don’t wish to,” he simply says, and she rolls her eyes.

“Loosen up a little sometime, huh? I think it would do you good.”

“Then you and I will have to have differing opinions.”

A knock sounds at the door, and Calliope starts to stand, but Adam takes the lead instead, gesturing for her to stay put. She doesn’t put up a fight, after all, her body is aching and all she really wants is a nap right now, maybe a 3 day slumber. When the door opens, she strains her ears to hear the soft mumbles of whoever is at the door. Adam’s voice is strong, and overshadows the meeker, much quieter voice of the person—no, woman, that’s a woman’s voice—standing at the door. A few more minutes pass until Calliope finally hears Adam say, “I think you should leave,” and shuts the door. When he returns, she gives him a curious smile. 

“Who was that?” she asks, and he shakes his head. 

“No one important. It’s late, I should leave. Goodnight, Detective Langford.”

She stops him before he can zip out. “Adam, honestly. You can call me Calliope. I promise you won’t implode.”

He hesitates, gears in his head clearly turning, then gives in, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “Goodnight, Calliope. You did well.”

“You’re lying to me!” she calls after him, and he says nothing as the door shuts behind him. She lets out a soft, incredulous laugh. Well, at least one good thing happened today. 

She heads to the light switch, peeking out of the window just for a second to try to catch a glimpse of the woman Adam had sent away. Her heart drops into her feet as she sees the car she knows too well. Rebecca sits in her car, taking a deep breath, and eventually starts it up and drives away, shaking her head. Calliope is frozen at the window. 

It was Rebecca at the door. Rebecca, who Adam...turned away? Told to leave?

She takes a moment to suck in a deep breath, letting out a loud sigh. Huh, she thinks, turning off the light and heading to her shower, eager to wash off the grime and sweat of training. Maybe he’s not so bad after all.

[aelin-queen-of-terrasen]

Hi!!! ilysm💓💓it's my birthday tomorrow so will u bless us with some doraelin smut?? i saw someone ask about it and now i cant get it out of my head lol! Thanks and keep writing beautifully!!

happy birthday love, and sorry this came out so late. I tried my best. hope this will be an acceptable birthday gift. hope you had an awesome day!

note: you asked for smut and I tried, but it was abominable so I did fluff instead.

Queen Of Glass

Ship: Dorian x Aelin.

Genre: Fluff + Smut.

Summary: A rewrite of the final scenes of queen of shadows where Rowan and Aelin are only best friends and she has a different prince in her heart.

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

It was going to kill her.

He wanted it to.

Her face—that face—

He neared the woman, step by step across the narrow, shaded bridge, the turrets high above them gleaming with blinding light.

Blood covered her arms, and she panted as she backed away from him, her hands out before her, a gold ring shining on her finger. He could smell her now—the immortal, mighty blood in her veins.

“Dorian,” she said.

He did not know that name.

And he was going to kill her.

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

Time. She needed to buy more time, or steal it, while the bridge still lay in shadow, while the sun slowly, slowly moved.

“Dorian,” Aelin pleaded again.

“I’m going to rip you apart from the inside out,” the demon said.

Ice spread across the bridge. The glass in her back shifted and ripped into her with each step she retreated toward the tower door.

Still the clock tower had not come down.

But the king had not yet arrived.

“Your father is currently in his council room,” she said, fighting the pain splintering through her. “He is in there with Chaol—with your friend—and your father has likely already killed him.”

“Good.”

“Chaol,” Aelin said, her voice breaking. Her foot slid against a patch of ice, and the world tilted as she steadied her balance. The drop to the ground hundreds of feet below hit her in the gut, but she kept her eyes on the prince even as agony rippled down her body again. “Chaol. You sacrificed yourself. You let them put that collar on you—so he could get out.”

“I’m going to let him put a collar on you, and then we can play.”

She hit the tower door, fumbling for the latch.

But it was iced over.

She clawed at the ice, glancing between the prince and the sun that had begun to peek around the corner of the tower.

Dorian was ten steps away.

She whirled back around. “Sorscha—her name was Sorscha, and she loved you. You loved her. And they took her away from you.”

Five steps.

There was nothing human in that face, no flicker of memory in those sapphire eyes.

Aelin began weeping, even as blood leaked down her nose from his nearness. “I came back for you. Just like I promised.”

A dagger of ice appeared in his hand, its lethal tip glinting like a star in the sunlight. Something flickered in his eyes but then it was gone, hidden behind that same unfeeling mask. “If you were smart, you won't have,” Dorian—no, not Dorian—the demon inside him said. "I told you you'd regret sparing me."

But she didn't regret it even as she looked into those cold, sapphire eyes, not as she shoved a hand between them as if she could push him away, grabbing one of his own hands tight. She couldn't find it in herself to regret sparing his life at all, not even as he plunged his knife into her side.

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

Aelin crawled away from the door stained with her blood, away from the Valg prince who laughed as she clutched at her side and inched across the bridge, her blood a smear behind her.

The sun was still creeping around that tower.

“Dorian,” she said, her legs pushing against the glass, her blood dribbling out from between her freezing fingers, warming them. “Remember.”

He needed to remember. Not another loved one—she would not, could not lose another loved one.

The Valg prince stalked her, smiling faintly as she collapsed onto her front in the center of the bridge. The shadowed spires of the glass castle loomed around her—a tomb. Her tomb.

“Dorian, remember,” she gasped out. He’d missed her heart—barely.

“He said to retrieve you, but perhaps I’ll have my fun first.”

Two knives appeared in his hands, curved and vicious.

The sun began glinting just above the tower overhead.

“Remember Chaol,” she begged. “Remember Sorscha. Remember me.”

A boom shook the castle from somewhere on the other side of the building.

And then a great wind, a soft wind, a lovely wind, as if the heart-song of the world were carried on it.

She closed her eyes for a moment and pressed her hand against her side, drawing in a breath.

“We get to come back,” Aelin said, pushing her hand harder and harder into her wound until the blood stopped, until it was only her tears that flowed. “Dorian, we get to come back from this loss—from this darkness. We get to come back, and I came back for you.”

She was weeping now, weeping as that wind faded away and her wound knitted closed. "I love you! Please," she begged. "You have to remember."

The prince’s daggers had gone slack in his hands.

And on his finger, Athril’s golden ring glowed.

“Fight it,” she panted. The sun angled closer. “Fight it. We get to come back.”

Brighter and brighter, the golden ring pulsed at his finger.

The prince staggered back a step, his face twisting. “You human worm.”

He had been too busy stabbing her to notice the ring she’d slipped onto his finger when she’d grabbed his hand as if to shove him away.

“Take it off,” he growled, trying to touch it—and hissing as though it burned. “Take it off!”

Ice grew, spreading toward her, fast as the rays of sunlight that now shot between the towers, refracting across every glass parapet and bridge, filling the castle with Mala Fire-Bringer’s glorious light.

The bridge—this bridge that she and Chaol had selected for this purpose, for this one moment at the apex of the solstice—was smack in the middle of it.

The light hit her, and it filled her heart with the force of an exploding star.

With a roar, the Valg prince sent a wave of ice for her, spears and lances aimed at her chest.

So Aelin flung her hands out toward the prince, toward her friend who had always been so much more than just that, and hurled her magic at him with everything she had.

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

There was fire, and light, and darkness, and ice.

But the woman—the woman was there, halfway across the bridge, her hands out before her as she got to her feet. In another life, he had known her perhaps—had even loved her. He couldn't recall her name now; the darkness shrouded his thoughts too heavily.

No blood leaked from where the ice had stabbed her. Only clean, polished skin peeked through the black material of her suit.

Healed—with magic.

All around him there was so much fire—her fire and light, tugging at him.

We get to come back, she said. As if she knew what this darkness was, what horrors existed. Fight it.

A light was burning at his finger—a light that cracked inside him.

A light that cracked a sliver into the darkness.

Remember, she said again.

Her flames tore at him, and the demon was screaming. But it did not hurt him. Her flames only kept the demon at bay.

Remember.

A sliver of light in the blackness.

A cracked doorway.

Remember.

Over the demon’s screaming, he pushed—pushed, and looked out through its eyes. His eyes.

And saw Celaena Sardothein standing before him.

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

 They were infinite.

They were the beginning and the ending; they were eternity.

The king standing before them gaped as the shield of flame died out to reveal Aelin and Dorian, hand in hand, glowing like newborn gods as their magic entwined.

“You’re mine,” the man raged. He became darkness; folded himself into the power he carried, as if he were nothing but malice on a dark wind.

He struck them, swallowed them.

But they held tighter to each other, past and present and future; flickering between an ancient hall in a mountain castle perched above Orynth, a bridge suspended between glass towers, and another place, perfect and strange, where they had been crafted from stardust and light.

A wall of night knocked them back. But they could not be contained.

The darkness paused for breath.

They erupted.

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

Dorian Havilliard had awoken alone, in a room he didn’t recognize.

But he was free, even though a pale band of skin now marred his neck.

For a moment, he had lain in bed, listening.

No screaming. No wailing. Just a few birds tentatively chirping outside the window, summer sunshine leaking in, and … silence. Peace.

There was such an emptiness in his head. A hollowness in him.

He’d even put a hand over his heart to see if it was beating.

The rest was a blur—and he lost himself in it, rather than think about that emptiness. He bathed, he dressed, and he spoke to Aedion Ashryver, who looked at him as if he had three heads and who was apparently now in charge of castle security.

Chaol was alive but still recovering, the general said. Not yet awake—and maybe that was a good thing, because Dorian had no idea how he’d face his friend, how he’d explain everything. Even when most of it was mere shards of memory, pieces he knew would further break him if he ever put them together.

A few hours later, Dorian was still in that bedroom, working up the nerve to survey what he’d done. The castle he’d destroyed; the people he’d killed. He’d seen the wall: proof of his enemy’s power … and mercy.

Not his enemy.

Aelin.

“Hello, Dorian,” she said. He turned from the window as the door shut behind her.

She lingered by the door, in a tunic of deep blue and gold, unbuttoned with careless grace at the neck, her hair loose at her shoulders, her brown boots scuffed. But the way she held herself, the way she stood with utter stillness … A queen looked out at him.

He didn’t know what to say. Where to begin.

She prowled for the little sitting area where he stood. “How are you feeling?”

Even the way she talked was slightly different. He’d already heard what she’d said to his people, the threats she’d made and the order she’d demanded. If he'd fancied himself in love with her before, he couldn't tell what to name the feeling inside of him now.

“Fine,” he managed to say. His magic rumbled deep inside him, but it was barely more than a whisper, as if it was drained. As if it was as empty as him.

“You wouldn’t be hiding in here, would you?” she said, slumping into one of the low chairs on the pretty, ornate rug.

“Your men put me in here so they could keep an eye on me,” he said, remaining by the window. “I wasn’t aware that I was allowed to leave.” Perhaps that was a good thing—considering what the demon prince had made him do.

“You can leave whenever you please. This is your castle—your kingdom.”

“Is it?” he dared ask.

“You’re the King of Adarlan now,” she said softly, but her voice was firm. “Of course it is." She rose from her seat in a smooth movement and walked to the window, only to tug him down onto the sofa behind her. Her hand cupped his face, thumb grazing against his cheekbone. He closed his eyes at her touch.

She drew her hand away.

"I tried to kill you—" he started.

She waved his hand away with an elegant gesture and leaned back into her seat. The assassin he'd once known seemed like a shadow of who she really was now. "It's no bother, you know? I find that most of my friendships begin or end in murder. I'm used to it."

His lips twitched upwards a little. "You came back," his voice broke. From the far reaches of his memory, words resurfaced. I love you, she'd shouted. "You came back for me."

Aelin's expression was tender. "You say it like you didn't think I would."

Dorian opened his mouth, searching for words, then shut it again. His brows creased in thought. "I suppose I didn't know who you were, though Chaol knew—" he held up his hand when she began to explain herself—"I'm not offended, I understand your reasons. You couldn't be sure of my allegiance. Then, I found out and I didn't—I thought the next time we met, it would be in the middle of a war and we won't be on the same side. When word reached us that you defeated the legions from Adarlan, that belief only strengthened."

"I didn't tell you who I was, not because I doubted your allegiance, Dorian."

He hadn't minded the deception. He had been hurt at first, but made his peace with it. However, the need to know grew with her words. "Then why?" he asked.

She chewed on her lip in thought. "It could have been dangerous for you to know. I couldn't risk it."

The two of them fell into a silence. Both parties searched for something to say, both unsure how their words would be received until Dorian blurted out, "I would like to see you."

Aelin cocked an eyebrow in question, trying to hide her amusement. Her mirth shone in her eyes.

"I mean," he blushed in embarassment, "I would like to see your fae form, if you want to show it, of course."

"I do," she said.

Aelin smiled at him, there was a brief flash of light and she—shifted. He noticed she looked much the same, except every feature looked sharper, each movement more controlled and graceful. The tips of her ears turned pointed, and canines poked out of her mouth when she grinned at him. "I know I'm pretty but I didn't think I'd leave you speechless. No pretty words for me? You used to have those in abundance," she joked when he still hadn't replied, though he detected the slightest hint of nervousness in her tone.

"You are... you are... " he faltered.

With half a thought, his finger traced her hollow cheekbones and watched as her face flushed with colour. He traced her earlobe, lingering on the pointed tip.

Aelin remained still, holding her breath. She felt Dorian's warm breath around her collarbone, shivering as blood rushed to her face. If any doubt remained about her feelings even after she'd shouted them at him, it would no longer hold.

Aelin loved him.

Impulsively, Aelin angled her face so her lips brushed with his in a featherlight kiss. His lips were impossibly soft beneath hers, and with some reluctance, she pulled back.

Dorian looked pained. "Aelin, I—"

Aelin's heart raced, all her doubts resurfacing but remained composed. "Oh dear, was it really so bad? You look like I struck you with a hammer," she said with an arch smile.

Dorian didn't smile back. "I can't—"

"I know," she whispered softly in reassurance, "I do not need any promises for a future together or claims of affection," it was the closest she came to an allusion to her declaration of love a few days ago, "I would like to provide comfort, Dorian, however I can. If you'd rather not—"

The following kiss that followed left no doubt of either recipient's feelings.

Dorian ran his hand through Aelin's much shorter curls, breathing in her scent. He admired the way she looked now, familiar in her essence but new in the way she handled herself—with authority, grace and confidence befitting her.

Somehow, she was still the woman he'd once loved and she wasn't.

He kissed her again, and would have continued in the activity had they not been interrupted:

"Aelin, we need you outside. Rowan pissed off some lord or another—argh, really? Gods, you two couldn't lock the door?" Aedion's face had turned scarlet, his eyes shut and covered with his hand.

Aelin snarled, "You couldn't knock?"

If Dorian hadn't been engaged in such a pleasing activity, he might have been amused at the looks of challenge on both the cousins' face. As it was, all he felt was irritation for the damned general. "Yes, well, did you come here just to irritate us or what?"

"I came," and here, the wolf of the north sneered, "to call her for assistance. If I knew she was assisting you already, I won't have come." And then, with a last 'damn you, cousin' Aedion Ashryver turned on his heel and left the room.

Dorian admitted, "I am surprised he didn't punch me."

"He barely restrained himself, I think. Be glad it wasn't Rowan," Aelin chuckled. "He won't have stopped."

Dorian said, "I'm not afraid of him."

"If you knew him, you would be." Aelin's answering smirk made his breath catch.

Though Dorian was far from recovered, for the first time in days, he looked forward to something in the future.

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

I hope y'all like this attempt at doraelin. so many people asked for doraelin after the first request, I was surprised.

tags: @thesirenwashere // @courtofjurdan // @little-crow-corvere // @the-dark-swan // @queenofgreenbriar // @clockworkgraystairs // @julemmaes // @rowaelinforeverworld // @mymultiversee // @queen-of-glass // @strangely-constructed-soul // @mijaldraws // @http-itsrebecca // @aesthetics-11 // @lord-douglas-the-third // @flowersinvegas // @aelinchocolatelover // @faerie-queen-fireheart // @sad-book-whore // @didsomeonesayviolin // @atozfantazyxx // @hizqueen4life // @the-gods-killer // @booknerdproblems // @annejulianneh111 // @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln // @b00kworm // @mysweetvillain // @curlyredqueen06 // @moondancer-204 // @thesurielships // @witchling-leonor // @ladywitchling // @amren-courtofdreams // @ifinallygavein // @jlinez // @faequeenaelin // @df3ndyr // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @bitchy-knees // @superspiritfestival // @xx-fiona-xx // @stardelia // @maastrash // @miihlovesnoone // @totenhamboys20 // @sanakapoor // @louisleblancdiggory // @abookishfreak // @maddymelv // @ireallyshouldsleeprn // @morganofthewildfire // @bellamyblakru // @theilliumbluebell10 // @jesstargaryenqueen // @cool-ish-nerd

let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

[an-actual-angel]

Pairing: Connor (RK800) x Reader, Collin (RK800-60) x Reader, Richard (RK900) x Reader

Summary: The year was 2082. 44 Years after the android revolution. Things have turned south for humanity. Androids now rule the world, leaving humans to be considered as mere animals. While some Androids still have a general disdain for humanity some have taken to the idea of keeping them as “family pets.”You, born in captivity, specifically bred to be the perfect pet happen to get adopted by the RK brothers.

Chapter Description: Part 2 of your eventful day out with Collin.

(If anyone wants to be added to the tag list, either dm or reply to this post <3)

Previous Chapter | AO3 | Next Chapter

Buy me a Coffee?

_____________________

Chapter 28 - The Lost Boy

Your name: submit What is this?

The Incident with Collin's ex had left a bitter taste in your mouth for most of the day. You clenched your fists anytime you thought back at how she and her friends had berated him. Part of you wanted to bring it up again to Collin but it seemed like he had enough of talking about her for today. You didn’t want to annoy him with it. Perhaps you could try again some other time.

Collin seemed a little annoyed by it but it didn’t seem to have shaken him up too much, he was quite happily scoffing food into his mouth, upon finally making it to the café you both had planned to visit. You watched him amused, your hands clasped around the warm porcelain coffee mug as you blew into the brown liquid, still too hot to drink. For a being that didn’t need food, Collin sure could put it away quick. You thought it was cute though.

“So,” You began to speak, removing the white mug from your lips. Collins eyes flicker up to meet yours.

“I kissed Connor this morning.” You felt weird telling this to Collin but you knew if this was going to work, open communication would be essential.

“Finally, took you both long enough.” He laughed, sitting back in his chair. “So, who’s the better kisser me or Connor?” A sly grin formed across his face.

“Definitely Connor.” You quipped, copying his go to wink.

“Lies.” Collin rolls his eyes.

“Okay, I’m only messing. You both are well, really great.” You shrug with a small giggle. You don’t think you could choose a favourite.

“Just admit you like me better, it’s okay I won’t tell.” Collin's foot brushes against your leg as he teases you. You raise your eyebrows to him in a mocking way as a response.

“I’m only kidding.” He chuckles before taking another swig of his drink.

When you both had finished your food, you set off into the city again, your hand linked around his arm as he leads the way.

“So, the museum then?” Collin asks, a little too unenthusiastically for your liking – making you stop and think.

“Why do I feel like your pandering to me?” You ask, pulling back on his arm slightly.

“Huh?”

“It’s just the museum doesn’t seem like a very ‘Collin’ thing. It’s not your style.”

“Hey, are you trying to say that I’m not smart, sophisticated and cultured?” He fakes being insulted, making you giggle slightly.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah, I know,” he smiles. “You got me. Connor suggested taking you there.” He holds his hands up in defence, accompanied by a smirk.

“Well, I want to do something that  you  want to do. Not what you think I want, or Connor thinks rather. This is your last day off. What do  YOU  want to do?”

“Well, I could think of a few things” he grins, moving his hand lower down your back with flirtation. You bump your shoulder into him in response as if you’re telling him to grow up. Not that you would mind getting a little bit more intimate  with him – it was just that you actually wanted to go do something that he would enjoy.  That didn't involve getting frisky.

“Oh, I’m sure” you laugh it off. “But what do you actually want to do? Well, besides, drinking, partying and orgies.”

“Hey, I’m no longer a single man, No orgies for me, anymore.”

“Anymore?”

“Forget I said that.” He snaps back, pointing his finger towards you.  To which you just laugh, you cant tell if he's joking or not but... hey, you don’t judge.

But wait, what did he say? The realisation only dawns on you now.

“So no longer a single man huh?”

“Well, I was assuming by now… Y'know.” He shrugs blankly at you, like an idiot.

You shake your head and chuckle. “You telling Richard I’m your girlfriend doesn’t count as asking me out. You have to do it properly.”

Collin stops walking for a minute and plays with the sleeve of his leather jacket. LED flashing a sickly yellow for a moment, clearing his throat – even though he obviously did not need to – he starts to ask. “Uh, Will you -“

“Shouldn’t we wait for Connor?” You interrupt him.

“I can ask for the both of us.”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“That’s a shame.” He responds even though he clearly seemed relieved that he didn’t have to ask you alone. Even though he pretty much knew what your response was going to be he was still nervous. Maybe it was too soon.

Most couples date for a few months before they make it official but you had been friends for such a long time now, does that make it okay? Where you weirded out by the power dynamic? Was being with two different people too much? Did you feel pressured into this relationship?

Collin's head felt like it was spinning, he tried his best to hide it behind his smile. Hopefully, he could maintain the blue of his LED, if he really focused he could keep it blue. – something he taught himself to do a few years back. It took a lot of concentration but it was possible.

“Anyway.” Your voice pulls him back into reality. “Back to my main point, before we get side-tracked again.” You turn to look at him, finger poking him in the center of his chest. “What do you want to do today?”

“Shit, I don’t know.” He looks around with a clueless expression. Apart of you wonders if he’s ever eve been asked this question before.

“Maybe we could go to the park? Oh!” his face sparks up for a moment. “I have a Frisbee in my car.”

“Sounds great!” You chime back. Smiling at how enthusiastic he had become over a Frisbee.

Both of you had spent a good few hours in the park. Just walking around, playing Frisbee and talking the biggest load of nonsense. You even got to meet some nice dogs, which is always a bonus.

Because it was just you and Collin, you both got some horrendously unhealthy, greasy food from a food truck but damn it was good. You both had a laugh at the thought of what Connor would say about it. The hours had passed way too quickly. Soon it was time to head home, but something stopped you, the sound of a child crying.

You almost sent Collin into a full-blown panic when you had disappeared out of his sight to go investigate it. Thankfully he spotted you before you had fully immersed yourself into the trees to seek the kid out.

Collin approached you in a light jog to keep up only to find you down on your knees talking to a small weeping boy. A human boy.

Before Collin could complain about you running off you had reached out to pull Collins hand down in order for him to be crouching to talk to the little boy as well.

“He lost his family.” Your face turned to Collin.

Collin briefly let his LED slip back to the yellow colour he had been trying so hard to hide that day. Immediately it caught the kid’s attention.

“I don’t want to go to the pound!” he blurts out, tears filling up his eyes. “Davey said it’s scary there.”

You hush the little boy before offering him your hand. “You won’t have to go near that place, I promise.”

He slowly places his tiny little dirt-covered hand in your own. You stand to your feet and help the little boy up.

“Can you help?” You whisper to Collin.

His lips go thin for a moment as he thinks. “Not without taking him to the pound to get his chip checked.”

Your eyebrows turn up in worry, not wanting to break your promise to the kid. “isn’t there something you can do?”

“Well, human matters aren’t in my division of work. I can’t do anything but Richard might be able to pull some strings.”

“Are you serious?” You wince at the thought of getting Richard involved.

“Yeah, I’m sorry for even suggesting it but he does have the city in his pocket basically.” He grumbles, scratching the back of his head. “He’s got connections, he could get a chip scanner sent out here. We wouldn’t even have to leave the park.”

“That would be preferable.” You sigh. “Would he even agree?”

“Only one way to find out.” Collin lifts his phone from his pocket. “I’ll call him, you walk the kid around the park, see if you can find his family anywhere.”

You nod and take the child’s hand again, following Collins instructions.

___

You had no luck finding the child’s family. The sun was starting its descent, painting the sky with shades of pink and orange clouds.

“It looks like ice cream.” You smile down at the little boy’s observation. “What’s your favourite Ice cream?” You ask, in an attempt to keep the child entertained.

“Strawberry!” He perks up in glee.

“I’ve never tried strawberry ice cream before.”

“What!” The Child almost seems offended by your confession. “Lady, you haven’t lived.”

“Is that so?” You giggle.

“He’s got a point.” Collin was quick to quip back.

The three of you were standing outside the park gates, it was closing up soon. At the rate this was going you would either be forced to take the kid to the pound or back to the apartment. Neither of which was ideal and would probably scare the poor kid out of his wits.

Finally, a familiar sleek black car had pulled up beside you. The doors swing open to reveal Richard, stepping out with a small white device in hand. the child’s hand wrapped tighter around yours as Richard came closer. You couldn’t blame the kid, Richard did look intimidating as hell as he approached, like some type of vampiric villain.

“Arm.” He ordered, hand extending out to the boy which cause you to grimace in response. Richard noticed immediately. With a roll of his eyes, he then squats down to the boy's eye level. He holds his hand out again and asks in a more gentle tone.

“May I please see your arm? I need to scan it so that we can call your family.”

The little boy looks up to you with curious eyes and you nod to him, placing your hand on his shoulder. The boy reluctantly rolls up his sleeve and offers his arm out to Richard.

With a small beep from the device, you had the families contact details. The lady – his mother, sounded like she was in hysterics over the phone. It didn’t take too long for her and her partner to show up, thanking and praising you all for finding their boy. When they had left you made brief eye contact with Richard and thanked him. He simply nodded and got back into his car.

---

Upon arriving home you had to fill Connor in on the eventful day you both had. He seemed just as pissed as you were about the whole drama with Collins ex. He was very proud of the both of you as well as a little shocked at Richard – and his willingness to help - with "the case of the lost child."

Thank goodness that all got sorted. I thought we were going to have to bring that poor kid home with us. That would be so bad.”

“No it wouldn’t, you were great with him.” Collin's hand grazes against your arm.

“Well, I meant it would be scary for the child. Being without his family.”

The Boys both nod in agreement.“I guess kids are lucky that way though.” You sigh. “Android couples always want to adopt little kids, raise them, treat them like their own. Probably only humans that get to experience family life. For some reason, I wasn’t good enough for that.”

Both of the boys go silent.

Oh jeez, you didn’t mean to dump all of that on them in the middle of a casual conversation. Will you ever learn when to stop talking?

“I’m sorry you never got to experience that.” Connor eventually speaks up breaking the silence.

“It’s okay. I'm sorry I shouldn’t have gone off of that tangent. I’m pretty lucky now though. I have you guys, you're both pretty great.” You smile, placing your head on Connor's shoulder and placing your hand on top of Collins.

“And were both grateful to have you.” Connor says placing a kiss on the top of your head. The three of you sit quietly for a while, Connor resting his chin on your head and Collin stroking his fingers down your hand, playing and rubbing on each one of your individual fingers.

While the room was silent you had your suspicions that Collin and Connor where communicating with each other via their minds. That weird mind communication that androids could do with other androids within their proximity. You can usually tell when this happens because Collin sometimes forgets to hide his facial expressions when he does it. Also, their LEDs slightly waver when they communicate this way.

Finally, Collin chooses to speak out first. “So I suppose now is as good as time as any.” He begins.

You adjust yourself to sit up slightly while still leaning against Connor.

“Y/N.”

“Yes?”

“Will you be our girlfriend?”

Collin looked so serious, almost worried that you’d say no. Connor, on the other hand, seemed pretty calm, casually playing with a lock of your hair. You leaned back to look at Connor.

“What he said.” Connor smiles back teasingly.

“Well, I'd have to think about it. You turn back around and look down at your nails before a smile cracks across your face. “of course I will dummy.” You giggle before leaning up and pressing a small kiss against Collin's lips. Connor rubbing small circles on your arm, waiting for his turn. When You and Collin both pull away from each other Connor reaches up his hand to guide your face towards him, stealing a kiss as well.

You hoped every moment could be this sweet.

___

Chapter 29 - Our Time is Running Out

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. What on earth possessed him to go out of his way for a human? That little minx, the cruel temptress had him wrapped around his finger.

He could have kept his pride, refused. But the thought of you upset with him (even more so than you already were) was completely unbearable.

So here he found himself, on a Sunday night, travelling across town, calling in a favour from an old acquaintance just so that he could borrow his chip reader. And for what? Some lost human that you had came across in the park? While you were on a date with his brother?

Richard was disgusted at himself.

Oh how he tried to pull back from you, to forget, to move on. But to no avail. Your laugh, your smile, your scent. It was frivolous. You had taken over his mind like a virus to his system. Oh, how it made him loath himself for feeling this way.

“You will be the death of me.” He sighed looking down at the chip reader sitting in his passenger seat.

You wicked thing.

He hoped the drive would at least clear his mind, help him keep his cool for when you meet again. He found it hard to control himself recently. He had never had this problem before. Perhaps he could only blame himself. He played with fire, allowing himself to get close to you. Now it was time to suffer from the burns.

Why did you have to kiss him, why did he allow it in the first place? It was stupid the whole thing! You were a human. It was unheard of. The only reason he adopted you was to prove a point to Connor, how did this all get so messed up? Maybe he was too arrogant. He was sure at the time that this would have been the best way to get through to his brother, not drive them apart. He wanted to save Connor from his own delusions. But what happened instead was unthinkable.

Richard caught feelings for the human.

The android and the human? It sounded ridiculous.

He braced himself as he drove closer to the destination, not long now. He was just going to get in then get out and try his best to avoid eye contact. Then he saw you. Looking as beautiful as ever, the wind delicately sweeping between your hair. Standing outside the park gates with his brother and a small little boy.

Wait, It was a child that was lost?

Richard pulled his car up beside the gates. He shook his head taking in a deep breath – which he didn’t need – before finally grabbing the scanner and stepping out.

When your eyes fell on him he felt his thirium pump start to rattle in his chest, he tried to ignore it as he approached the three of you. Swept up in his own thoughts he didn’t notice the little boy beginning to cower behind you.

“Arm.” Richard ordered the boy.

He was confused for a moment, why didn’t the child comply? But then his eyes briefly caught yours. You didn’t look pleased.

Shit.  

He looked down at the boy then finally realised . Oh. He’s scared?

It’s okay, play it off…

He then knelt down. He could see the boy was still unsure of him so Richard reached out his hand and asked in a gentle tone. “May I please see your arm? I need to scan it so that we can call your family.”

When the boy finally offered his arm, Richard took it and scanned his chip, trying to hide his own shaky uneven feeling from showing in his movements. In an instant, the screen on the device flashed with the boy’s information.

Richard stood up, grabbing Collin’s phone straight out of his hand. He pressed the phone against the screen and gave it back to Collin.

“It should be ringing his family now.”

Collin nodded before holding the phone up to his ear. He moved a little bit away from you, Richard and the boy to speak to the family.

Although, the three of you could hear whoever it was – a female – blubbering down the phone.

You and Richard stood in silence while Collin talked on the phone.

“Don’t worry your family will be here soon.” Richard heard you whisper to the small boy. If his heart could combust it would have at that moment. He didn’t know how to deal with this. How to deal with you. He hated this feeling.

The minutes you waited for the family to arrive felt like hours to Richard. He stood with his arms crossed in silence while you and Collin kept the little boy entertained.

When the family finally arrived Richard was so relieved, he could finally leave. He supposed sure, it was good the child was returned home but mainly he wanted to get the fuck out of this situation as soon as he could.

After the family had given their thanks and praise to the three of you, Richard was on a mission to get back into his car as fast as possible. Before he reached for the handle, he did make brief eye contact with you.

You thanked him. He didn’t know how else to respond so he just nodded in return.

Getting back into his car he watched as you and Collin walked away – presumably to Collin's car – holding hands with each other. Richard cursed himself under his breath before driving off.

___

The next day Richard immersed himself fully within his work, something he usually did when his emotions got in the way. Emotions were so messy. he knew he had to return home soon, something he wasn’t looking forward to. His brothers were usually sat about cooing after you, the human, in HIS house. Maybe his karma was finally catching up with him.

When he arrived home it was quiet. It dawned on him, Collin was back to work again. it was probably just him and you in the apartment at the moment. His initial reaction was to run into his room or office to avoid you but a voice in his head said, ‘no. this is enough. No more hiding.’ He had to talk to you.

Gathering whatever courage he had he straightened himself out before heading into the livingroom. There you were sat cutely curled up in a ball on the couch. Your eyes lazily made their way towards him.

“Hello.” Richard spoke stiffly, trying to look as stoic as he could.

“Hi.” You spoke softly.

Okay, she doesn’t seem too annoyed with me…

Richard knew he had to be careful with his words around you. He knew you wouldn’t eat up the bullshit that he fed to everyone else in his life, no. You were different.

“So, you’re dating my brothers?”

“Yeah.”

“Both of them?”

You nod again in response. Richard bites his lip and sits down on the couch opposite you.

“I acknowledge that we had a rough patch and I apologise for it.” Richard begins speaking looking down at his hands. “I guess I just didn’t realize what we had was over.”

“We had something?” You asked. Richard's face looks up at you in confusion, not understanding what you meant.

“You see, I might be mistaken but I thought in order to ‘have something’ you would have to have, I don’t know, an element of respect for each other? Y’know treating your partner or person of interest as a person or an equal.” You spat back at him.

“It’s more complicated than that, I-” Richard tried to explain himself before you cut him off.

“Listen.” You begin. “I know you have some weird God complex so you can’t wrap your head around it but Connor and Collin treat me like a person. They care about me.”

“I care!” Richard stands up, his eyebrows turning upwards as his voice raises slightly.

You scoff a little. “Do you? Or are you just saying that to get your own way?”

“This is just, all very new to me.” Richard tries to explain further, holding his hand to his chest. “It’s difficult. You’re a human and my people they-”

“Oh grow up.” You finally stand to your feet and begin to walk away from him.

“I’m sorry!” He blurts out, causing you to stop. You turn to him and notice his LED now red.

“For what?” You ask. Maybe a glimmer of hope for him caught in your eyes.

But Richard doesn’t speak. His mouth fumbles around like he’s trying to catch his words but he says nothing.

“Hmm, I thought so.” You sigh and turn back to walk away. Biting your lip you shake your head. He doesn’t care, he’s just trying to control me again.

You will suck the life out of me ~

_________

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Notes:  This chapter was heavily inspired by Muse's song 'Time is running out.' Shout out to AO3 user @DarkBlueChocolate for the chapter idea!

Taglist: @connorsdimple​ @crushedtincan​ @clussysposts​ @iris-suoh​

[archived-gtronpa-account]

I just,,, wanna offer my contribution to @sam-cant-function 's borrower Makoto AU so,,,

Borrower!Ultimate hope !!

Word count: 2100

Summary: Naegiri, but Makoto is a borrower and Kyoko isn't easy to fool.

(based on this post)

___

Pins, needles, paperclips; it was hard not to notice those missing for someone as sharp as Kyoko.

The mysterious crumbs on spotless countertops were also a giveaway. She would have thought of vermins and pests running in her walls had it only been for the crumbs and missing foods, but the odd ustensiles and knick-knacks that frequently went missing eventually lead the detective girl to an odd conclusion; there was a small, intelligent being swiping from her.

She considered investigating the place to see if she could understand what kind of being she was being faced with, but decided against it as the creature might see her in the act and flee off, so she opted for a more sublte approach.

Everyday, she kept a drawer cracked open, an unfinished plate out, some pencil leads carefully scattered on the floor; any small thing she'd notice were it to disappear. Later at the academy, where the creature couldn't spy on her, she would take out her notebook and make a list of what had been taken that day.

Looking at her notes had her more and more impressed every time. The little creature seemed to have a concept of habit and schedule; taking necessities weekly to bi-weekly according to its needs rather than stealing whatever was available. Kyoko also started to make tests to try to understand the nature of the creature, leaving animal foods out now and then, small mechanical parts, crafting materials, fabric, seeds...

Gradually, it became clear that the little being had a tendency to steal the more humane things she left out. That piqued her curiosity, and lead her to notice things she hadn't seen before, like bits of soap missing, or a small trail of shampoo under her closed bottle.

Kyoko found herself amused and eager to investigate about the small humane being. Everyday, she was so excited to see what had gone missing that she found it hard to keep the smile off her face.

After school, she went to her room and knelt down, feigning to pick up a discarded paper when she was only counting the paperclips on the floor.

"...four, five..." She muttered under her breath. There was one missing. Usually, that also meant some yarn would be missing as well.

She stood up and headed to where the roll of yarn was left, when she heard shuffling.

Her eyes snapped in the direction of the sound. There was a lone can of white paint on a shelf, but nothing unusual about it.

She kept her gaze fixated on the can, silent and motionless. There was no mistaking that sound, something was hiding behind that container.

Kyoko saw something, a flicker of movement or her eyes tricking her. It was so small she would have missed it had she blinked, but she was certain it was movement.

Runts and pests don't hide and stay silent. Chances were, the little thief was hiding behind the paint can. It seemed like it didn't have anywhere to flee from there. Kyoko bit her lip, uncertain about the situation. She had done her best for weeks to stay out of the creature's business, only investigating from the shadows, but at that moment she had the perfect opportunity to finally get a good look at it and confirm some of her suspicions. Still, she risked scaring it off and never seeing it again. She could leave the room, and keep watching from the shadows forever.

But she wanted more than that.

Kyoko shook her head, stood on her tip toes and made her way to the shelf, quiet as a mouse. Thankfully, the lamp at the end of the room played in her favor, as her shadow wouldn't give her away if she looked from above at the right angle.

She stood still and listened for any movement, any shifting, breathing. She thought she had heard something, but she couldn't place it.

Kyoko leaned above the can, and her eyes widened at the sight. Maybe she had expected some animalistic creature, with some sort of anthropomorphic characteristic at most. She had not expected the creature to look so unsettlingly human.

Two hands and two feet, a human face and head with a tuft of brown messy hair on top, clothing, shoes and a bag. It looked exactly like a human boy, aside from some small furry tail on its back.

It jumped in surprise and it's head shot up in her direction. Dammit, she must have lost her focus and breathed out.

Purple eyes locked onto brown ones. The detective noticed the small boy's face contorted in fear, it's whole body shaking and it's arms clinging onto its bag. He looked so human, and it radiated off terror. Kyoko felt a pang of guilt at the sight. Her curiosity had lead to that outcome, and who knew what would happen after that encounter?

Kyoko turned around and left the room, eyes fixated on the ground. Hopefully, if she left fast and let the tiny boy escape, he would come back again and not run away to where she would never see him again.

____

The boy must have understood her trick

For days, she didn't find her stuff missing anymore. The pins and needles didn't bother her as much as the crumbs remaining on her counter every morning. Either he had found a new source of food, or the tiny boy had left for good.

Turned out, it was the former. Kyoko eventually started to find small dents in her food packages and boxes. The relief of that discovery was short lived however, as she realized there was much less food missing than ever, and times and times again, she didn't find crumbs missing from the same package after she found dents on it.

To think that the tiny boy must have been keeping tabs on her to see if she would trick him again, change food sources all the time not to get caught, and the worryingly small amount of food missing... Kyoko felt sick with guilt. Her curiosity had lead her to starving the tiny boy, and she had no idea on how to go about fixing her mistake.

Eventually, she decided to leave a simple note out and some food in a bottle cap, some attempt at an apology. But that didn't work. However, when she got her note back, she took time to examine it at the academy and traced footprints on it. The best result she got from that was that the boy had opened the note and stood at the bottom of the text, strongly suggesting he had read the note or at least knew the placement of Latin letters.

Given the intellect that much required, she hypothesised that the tiny boy may be able to understand her English to some extent. She considered trying to communicate with him, but decided against it for the longest time.

That option came back to mind when her belongings started being brought back.

It had been such a long time since she found the number of pins on her desk decreasing, so it came as a shock when she found it increasing, at eight instead of seven.

Later that same day, she found a paperclip in her bag that she was sure she hadn't placed.

That much was odd, and admittedly, worrying for the detective. She wasn't sure what the implications of her stuff being gradually bought back were, but in any case, she feared she might be harming the tiny boy badly. She needed to act soon.

If he decided to leave for good, then be it, but Kyoko wouldn't let him live in hunger and fear. He'd either stay and live well or leave for his own good.

Kyoko stayed up that same night and awaited his arrival. When the clock struck four, she thought the tiny boy wouldn't come that night, but her worry vanished when she heard shuffling in the kitchen.

She waited a moment and listened to the small pitter-patter of tiny feet. Once she heard it had gotten far enough from its initial source, she got up and made her way to the kitchen.

Turning the lights on could give the impression that she had an advantage, so she kept them off and carfully stepped in the dark room.

"Hello?" Her eyes scanned the counters and floor, but she didn't find anything, or anyone.

"Please, don't be afraid. I'm only here to talk," she did her best to keep her voice soft.

Kyoko was met with deafening silence. She had expected no less though, so she was fine with keeping the dialogue up on her own.

"I'm sorry if I startled you the other day," the girl took a couple steps forward and held her hands up, but after consideration, brought them behind her back. "I don't mean to interfer with your, err, business..."

She saw a flicker of movement behind a chair. Instinctively, her eyes darted there and locked onto the tiny form that had emerged, making him flinch. She cursed herself, wishing she had ignored it.

On the other hand, she was glad she was making eye contact with the little boy, at least he was willing to communicate to some extent.

"Can you understand me?" She spoke in a clear, articulate voice.

The tiny boy shook his head vigorously, but tensed up when he realized his mistake. Had the atmosphere not been so tense, Kyoko would have found the slip-up kind of cute and funny.

"Alright then." The girl took a step back, and carefully knelt down to be more at eye-level with the tiny boy. "Again, I'm sorry for bothering you, that wasn't my intention. Please, rest assured I have no intention of ever harming you in any way. I don't want you to get hurt or feel hungry or anything of the sort. So, if you need anything, please don't hesitate to come take it, and I won't interact with you if it makes you uncomfortable."

"S-seriously...?" He squeaked out, voice cracking a bit. The answer startled the detective. She hadn't even thought he would want to listen to her, let alone want answer and have the capacity to. She gave a small, solemn nod.

"Like, really, th-this isn't a trick or anything though, right...?" He was surprisingly talkative. Things were going even better than Kyoko could have hoped, she almost wanted to pinch herself in fear she had fallen asleep in the night and was just dreaming. But she kept her head clear and herself composed.

"Even though I'm only a stranger, and this might mean nothing to you, I do promise that I'm only speaking the truth," she kept her eyes on him, fiery with determination.

"Oh- I know you're the kinda person who keeps their promises though, h-hah..." He laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. His mannerisms were exactly like those of any human; he was even more expressive than Kyoko herself. Her heart pounded against her ribcage in excitement, everything about the strange small person was bizzare and impressive. "Uhm, so, thanks. A-anyway, can I go now?" The tiny boy stumbled a few steps back, eyes darting around the room as if looking for an exit.

He'd been so talkative for a few seconds, Kyoko had forgotten how scared he must be in her presence and how he would eventually have to go.

"Of course." And Kyoko thought that would be the last time she'd see the tiny boy.

How wrong she had been.

The next morning, she almost dropped the mug in her hands when she found the boy on her counter, feet dangling off the edge in a casual pose.

"A-ah, heya, just thought I'd... drop by!" He'd squeaked out, nervous but still present and not fleeing. Kyoko was startled, to say the least, but she was definitely intrigued by the unexpected turn of events. So she quietly took a seat and nodded, waiting for the boy's next move.

"And, uh, about yesterday! It was pretty cool of you, so... thanks," he radiated off nervousness, yet he'd had the courage to come back, talk to her, and even force a small, polite smile. The detective girl was impressed and, admittedly, honoured. The brave gesture warmed her heart.

"It's alright. I'm glad you're confident enough to come now," a small smile made its way on her face. "My name is Kyoko." She looked away, and took a sip of her coffee.

"Kyoko, huh... Well, I-Im Makoto, nice to meetcha. So... Uh, wanna be friends?"

____

Heck yea! And now Makoto drops by now and then to chat and keep the detective girl from staying up too late brainstorming a case, and she sometimes spots him and drops a few words maybe even invites him to hangout sometimes and all in all they vibin. such good buddies!

Makoto dude you're so silly even a clumsy girl like Komaru wouldn't have gotten caught like that,, haha,, right,,,?

Hmm anyway I have a feeling I made them a lil too ooc n the end was rushed, but honestly I tried my best to fix what k could and I have no clue how to save the rest so I'll just leave it at this. I'm just happy bout borrower purest boo :ppp

[gatticus]

Gat & Becca: Kilig: The feeling of butterflies in your stomach, usually when something romantic takes place

Set literally the day before sr3 lol, serious, then a little stupid, just the way I like it :)

The street light is flickering.

“Haven’t we given enough money to the mayor to fix this shit?” She asks, as he watches her face under the bulb. “Whatever.”

Becca is complaining for the sake of complaining, because the casual drinks have dissolved into something strange. Something that had left the two of them ditching everyone else to stand outside under a flickering street light, perched against the brick wall of a corner store.

If she wants to complain about weird shit to break the tension, he will gladly do so. “He’s probably blowin’ it on hookers, I wouldn’t worry ‘bout it.”

She smiles at him gratefully, and he knows he’s said the right thing. He can’t discern why the atmosphere is so charged, he doesn’t know why. But he is paying attention to every move she makes, every flicker of dark brown eyes and every exhale as her lips form an ‘o’ around the smoke.

“Probably,” She agrees, as she sees off another stream of smoke. Then she is watching him just as intently as he watches her. “You can always go back, you know.”

She is misreading his attention as regret. “Nah,” He shrugs, playing it off. “I’m fine here.”

“That stripper really was gunning for you though,” She muses, but he isn’t stupid. There’s a bite there. “Seems a shame to waste it.”

“I’m fine here,” He repeats, crossing over to her. His fingers brush over her lips as the cigarette settles between his fingers, there’s a trace of her lipstick on the index. He doesn’t care that his lips are pulled into a smirk when he sees it.

She sees it too, but she isn’t watching his fingers as he exhales, and makes a point of releasing the smoke the same way she did. She is not subtle, but he doesn’t expect her to be. 

He doesn’t know whether it’s the alcohol, or just the mood, but he wants to kiss her. The notion isn’t a new one, he had always found her easy on the eye, but the want to do it never bubbled so close to the surface, like an itch he wants to scratch.

Instead, he settles for joining her on the wall, his shoulder is brushing the side of her temple, and he should say something, or make a comment, but she leans on him instead. He pretends as if he simply expected it to happen, and in turn, curls an arm around her waist as if it were the most casual thing in the world.

If this were anyone else, he would skip all of this. He usually gets what he wants, and isn’t particularly patient. He’s also good at reading her--he thinks. He knows she wants it like he does, but he won’t push, not until she says so. If she wants to play cat and mouse, that’s exactly what he’ll do.

“Johnny.”

He feels his lip quirk up. “Boss.”

He feels her shuffle against his arm, and gives it a beat before he turns to her. She moves so that she’s facing him, and his arm follows, his hand tighter around her than he intends it to be, but he can’t take it back. So instead, it dips under her jacket, a flat palm against the thin top that she wears. 

Her eyes are darker than they usually are, looking up at him through her eyelashes. He wants to say that he isn’t affected by it, but he’s watching her just as intently as she is watching him, his eyes flicking down to her tongue as she wets her lips.

A feeling he remembers, but hasn’t felt in a while is reintroduced like a punch in the gut when she curls a hand around his bicep, and he wishes he wasn’t wearing so many layers. He moves a little, lowering his head and remembering he would have to move a lot lower to accommodate for the height difference. She encourages him with a soft hand on the back of his neck, long nails almost digging into the skin at the nape as he swallows.

There’s that feeling again in his stomach which almost feels foreign, as if he had forgotten it. His toes curl in his boots as he feels her breath fanning over his lips, and prides himself on his restraint.

“Say my name.”

He does so, without hesitation. “Rebecca.”

Watching her lips pull into a small smile is the final straw to snap as he closes the gap. He barely hears her soft gasp over the dull throb of his heart in his ears when his hand comes to cup her jaw, holding her in place.

The whole thing feels entirely surreal, he can’t think of anything else but her. She surrounds him entirely as he clings to her tighter than he should have, he can’t help it, and it’s rougher than he intends it to be, but she takes it, hungry and grabbing and crushing as he pushes her roughly against the wall, his hand buried in blue hair.

“Boss!”

She drops him instantly as he grunts in frustration, the shouts of her name coming from around the street. It was entirely typical, and he wonders if they had done this sooner that there wouldn’t be anyone to interrupt them. 

Her lips are swollen and her lipstick is smudged, her chest rising on uneven breaths, and all he can think about it kissing her again, but from the look on her face it’s obvious the moment has passed. 

He meets her eye instead, and watches her lip twitch. He gives it a moment, then lets his lips pull into a smirk of its own as she laughs breathlessly, closing her eyes as her shoulders shake. There is no sign of regret, only mild embarrassment at being close to found.

“Johnny!” 

Shaundi’s voice looms closer as Becca pushes off the wall, crossing over to him. For a split second he half thinks she is going to kiss him again, but instead, she swipes her thumb across his chin, cupping it in her hand as he realises what she’s doing. 

“Shouldn’t’ve worn red,” She muses, voice low as she smiles at him. “Looks like you’re taking up clowning.”

He doesn’t care, if anything it makes him grin. Her expression goes wistful as her thumb stops its movements, and he cants his head without thinking, pressing a solitary kiss to the pad of her thumb that is more heavy than he intended it to be.

She blinks at him and he looks straight back, his chin still in her hand, and he can’t even think of a single thing to say. So he doesn’t. He just watches her as she strokes her thumb over his chin again.

“There you are!” 

Her hand drops and the facade is painted firmly back on as he watches her talk animatedly to Shaundi, turning away from him as she crosses over to the younger lieutenant. He tries to slap disinterest across his face, tries to throw out a stupid comment, but it comes out uneasy and awkward as he crosses over to the two of them.

“What’ve you guys been doing?” Shaundi asks, frowning. “You just ditched us.”

He glances at her, her lip is bitten into her mouth in an entirely guilty look which means the talking is down to him. He doesn’t mind, it’ll be something to distract him from the swirling feeling in his stomach;

“Not much.”

[thewolfisapartofmysoul]

Hey lovelies,

I wrote another fanfic. Its Beetlejuice x reader.... it turned out to be really fluffy, but its BeeJ so its gonna be smutty too. I've made a little *****-line. And under there it gets... down... to... smut-town. So if you dont like that, stop before the *****. If you are as thirsty as i am. Continue reading the whole thing. (Daddy kink! If ur not into that... im sorry. Scroll along.) I was thirsty im sorry.

Thanx again for reading, lovelies. 💕

Reader dying her hair purple leading to awesome time with our ghost-with-the-most .

So... you dyed your hair...

Ithink Beetlejuice wouldnt get it at first. Your hair was always a beautifull full brown colour.

And suddenly it was red. Not bright red... just... a LITTLE bit redder then usual. BeeJ would be a bit confused. But also SUPER turned on... cause he loved redheads. So he didn't questions it. Just roll with it. (And by rolling with it i ment you. Rolling you on your back.) But hey. Both of you happy... no questions asked.

2 months after that he would poof back home after scaring the neigbours, and you would be chilling on the couch watching movies. He would already be calling: "Hey babes!!! Did ya miss...." and he could finish his scentence cause then he saw you.

His beautiful beautiful breather. Chilling as usual. Looking very relaxed while watching her favorite show in her pyjama shorts.

Okay.... points for that. He noticed his need to touch her thighs... GOD she looked good in shorts! But that wasnt what made his breath hitch in his throat. His eyes traveled upwards to her hair... panic rising in his chest when he realised. It was purple. Well... more dark aubergine... but it still made him anxious. His own hair changing colour all of the sudden to match the one of his partner. Why was his favorite breather so sad that it made her hair turn purple?

You turned around and noticed the sudden change of his facial expressions... but also his hair changing colour rapidly. The bright green (when he was happy and excited after scaring people) made place for a deep purple. As Beetlejuice rushed closer to you and sat next to you to hold your hand you saw some streaks of pink popping through the purple. Thank God... he wasnt upset about you at least. The pink of his hair betraying the love he held for you. But the sadness and worry his purple hair usually carried had you worried instantly. What would make your favorite demon so troubled all of the sudden.

He kissed your hand while mumbling: "Babes... what's up? Are you upset? Why is your hair purple? Is it me? I promise i didn't dye the neigbours cat green again this time. Did miss Mullens talked to you? Cause... i swear i thought it was legal the last time and..."

You shut him up in the only way you knew how to that fast. You kissed him SO softly and with SO much passion he growled in your kiss slightly.

Doing so making you smile against his green scruff.

"Sweety..." you said after he pulled back. "Im not sad. Its just... purple because i like it that way."

You were relieved that when you looked closer you could see the purple dissapeared slightly from his hair. More pink there then purple... thanks to the passionate kiss you two had shared.

He still looked slightly confused... but you managed to explain hair dying to him... and after a minute or two he told you he understood.

With a flicker in his eyes and his hands already wandering over your bare thighs he smirked at you... "you look lovely babes. The purple gets me hungry."

He kissed your lips passionately and bit your lower lip. The move had you moaning. Before things went further down you pulled away... and looked him in the eye.

It could kill the mood but you had to say it to him. So you stated: "BeeJ... thanx for looking after me. It means a lot that you care enough to get sad when you think im sad."

"Anytime." He said. "Cant have my favorite breather all upset now can i?" With that he kissed you again. Very softly but you felt the need and the power in that kiss. The heat that was there.

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

His hands very slowly traveled between your legs again and you felt your breath hitch when he found your clothed mouth. Your mouth fell open with anticipation for what was about to happen.

Beetlejuice took that moment to bite your lower lip, slowly going down towards your cheeckbone. You felt your eyes close at the sensation of his scruff against your cheek and neck while he was delicately placing kisses bites and licks on your cheek and neck.

His hand still teasingly rubbing your hand against your aching pussy. Very slowly. With a bit of pressure. But not quite enough to get you off. Yet.

You moaned silently at the contact. Craving more, but still very insecure about making noises. But your ghost-with-the-most picked up on it. You felt his fingers twitch lightly at the sweet sound of your voice, and he growled at the pleasure it gave him to hear that little whiper coming out of you.

He knew you needed some sort of comfort to proceed making hot noices like that. So he growled in a deep seductive tone: "thats it babygirl. You already so wet for me arent you? Im just barely touching your pussy and my beautiful purple princess is already moaning for me to let her come? You want to make daddy proud, dont you?"

You nodded your head, eyes closed at the sensation of his voice in your ear, the scruff on your cheeck and his hand still rubbing your clenching pussy.

"Use your words purple princess. Daddy wants to hear you. Daddy needs to hear how good he makes you feel. How hot and how ready you are to scream daddy's name. Moan for me babygirl."

You sighed. Troubled. Really wanted to... but still embarresed.

Suddenly that changed when his teeth found your earlobe. Tugging it softly with his teeth, growling your name while doing so.

You opened your mouth to moan the most quiet moan he ever heared. But oh boy did he notice.

"Thats it babygirl. Let daddy hear you. I love to hear the beautiful sounds you make babes. They are so hot. You are so hot. Thats my babygirl."

You moaned again slightly harder this time, his hand now fondling with your breast.

"Your doing such a good job babes... so ready and needy. With a wet tight pussy for daddy to take. Your doing great princess. Let me hear you again babes. Please."

His hand pinched your nipple roughly and you let out a cry of pleasure.

BeeJ growled at that. His pretty breather coming undone under his skilled hands. All spread beneath him... moaning for more. With her beautiful purple hair.

He started to rub his hand faster over her pussy.

She made the most beautifull sound he'd ever heared.

You were a mess. He was working magic with his hands over your aching body. Rubbing faster and faster over your still clothed pussy. Moaning with each stroke his fingers made. You felt your orgasm building while he took your hair in his hand, other hand still vigorously rubbing your pussy. You were panting and moaning and breathing very shallow. You were so close... you could feel it.

"Daddy's little girl. I love your hair like this babygirl. You look so pretty. Moaning and ready to come for daddy. Like the little slut you are. You like me rubbing you trough your pyjamas?"

You moaned at his dirty talk and the rubbing on your clit.

He rougly pulled your hair.

"I was asking something princess. Awnser daddy like a good girl." He growled into your ear.

"Yes daddy." You moaned. "I am. Ive been horny all day thinking about you BeeJ. Teasing myself through the shorts as i imagined what you would do to me when you came home. Ive been a very bad girl touching myself " you moaned.

"You make daddy so angry. Yet so hot." He panted. "I think you need a little punishment for being so naughty, babes." He growled so close you your ear, that you felt his tongue touching it lightly. You took in a sharp breath from both the tongue on your ear and the dirty talk of your demon echoing in your mind.

Beetlejuice practically purred while he offered his hand he had been rubbing on your aching pussy to you. He stick out his index and middle finger while purring into your ear: "suck daddy's fingers while i hear you moan babes..." You remained intense eye contact while slowly pulling your lips over his warm fingers. They smelled slightly of you, combined with the mixture of scents that was obvious BeeJ's. "So good babygirl... suck daddy's fingers" he praised you.

You moaned at the sensation sucking on his fingers brought you. Circling your tongue against his fingers. Licking up and down before closing your lips on it once again. Soflty whimpering while Beetlejuice used his free hand to play with your hair. "Nnrgh... daddy..." you whispered. "Please... PLEASE keep touching my hair" you moaned desperately. Craving his gentle touch on your scalp. "Am i doing good daddy?" You begged, while again sucking his fingers up and down.

Beetlejuice smiled at your begging. The moans you made were music to his ears. He purred and took his fingers out of your mouth. While remaining eye contact with you he plopped his own fingers in his mouth and took them out sofly, sensually. With a deep voice he cooed: "thats my good little slut. You did such a good job. You deserve a reward babygirl..." You never heard his voice sound so deep and gravely before.

He licked his lips and brought his wet fingers back to your entrance again. Rubbing fastly whitout mercy.

Whitin seconds you felt that white heat closing in on your orgasm again. The sensation of his wet fingers on your pussy while the other hand played with your hair and his lips closed around a nipple... soflty biting the skin you breathed his name against his neck.

"Im so close daddy" you keened in the crook of his neck. "Please make me come. Please daddy. Im begging you."

"It would be a pleasure babes. I love to hear you beg for daddy like the good little girl you are. So naughty playing with yourself when daddy was away hmm? Like the feeling of my fingers rubbing you, my princess?" He growled in your ear.

"Y-yeah da-daddy... oh... fuck... Thats it... right... there... faster please daddy..."He rubbed your clit even faster. You spread your legs open as wide as you could to give him more acces.

"Nnnrg. Yeah... like that da-ah-daddy... please"

"Thats it babygirl. Your doing so good. Being all spread out like this for me. God your gorgeous. Let me hear you babes."

You moaned his name tiredly and he squeezed your breast again. You whined "daddy... pleeeease..." as he slapped your pussy sofly, tugging your ear with his teeth and petting your hair he growled:

"Come for daddy y/n" placing a kiss on your neck.

With this you came. Screaming his name as you came.

He smiled a lopsided smile at you as he was holding you in his hands. Pulling you close to him to let you rest. Hugging back you felt him petting your hair softly mumbling praises in your ear. "You did so good baby. Im so proud of you. You are so beautifull babes."

You felt him putting his nose in your hair to sniff it, purring softly. You smiled to yourself as he did so.

You turned your head so you could kiss him softly on his lips. Giggling as he confessed: "love the purple hair babes. Looks good on you"

Kissing his nose you said: "should dye it more often then."

Beetlejuice chuckled and swooped you up bridal style to the bedroom.

You cackled all the way up.

Feeling blessed with a man... demon... in your life that loved you. Even with purple hair...

BeeJ unceremoniously dropped you onto the bed and started peppering you with kisses along your hairline. Slowly feeling up your sides and growling when he squeezed your but. You giggled. This was gonna be a LONG night.

[spiltscribbles]

Metamorphosis

Notes: This was written for the most wonderful, gorgeous and sweetheart babe in the history of ever!!! @omgcmere for her birthday! ILYSM sweetheart! Huge thanks to my babes @pastelle-pvnk and @bibliothesophfor reading over this for me!<3<3

.-

~A reblog is worth a thousand stars~

.-

I am free and that is why I am lost

-Franz Kafka

.-

Henry wakes up the day before classes of his junior year exhausted, hung over, and to a positively shit-eating grin that Pez is boasting while he gleefully pushes open the blinds like the sadistic fuck that he is.

“You’ve become a real tosser ever since making out with my sister last Christmas,” Henry informs him bluntly, stretching out slowly while looking around for his shirt until coming to the realization that the bloke from last night must’ve taken it while on the walk of shame.

Henry really tries his damndest not to think of his ass taking that walk.

“Ah Beatrice, my sun and stars.” Pez magnanimously throws Henry an old henley from his still unpacked suitcase. Tosser status withstanding, He’s still Henry’s best friend, has been ever since freshman year when they found solace in each other being the only two Brits in this entire university— well the only ones that matter, anyhow.

“Oy, did you wake me up at this godforsaken hour just to wax poetic about my sister of all people?” Henry grouses, padding over to their joint bathroom to brush his teeth, wincing only slightly at the already raucous chatter going on in the downstairs of their frat house.

“Believe it or not Haz, dealing with your temperamental arse actually wasn’t on my list to do today,” Pez crows, standing there all put together and fresh and well-rested. Like a fucking monster. “But we’ve got that meeting with the Dean of Student Affairs about the room situation for rush week, and we’re still in that debate with Chi Phi’s president over it.”

Henry glares  at the reminder, a spark of fury running down his spine, and perhaps an extra thudding to his heart, but Henry’ll studiously ignore that.

“God damn Alex Claremont-Diaz.”

“Only took you around three minutes to mention him today,” Pez perks with a knowing leer. “I reckon that’s a new record..”

“Get the fuck out, Pez.”

.-

Henry was seven years old when he realized that his family were the sort of folks that end up on magazine covers and the headlines of salacious talk shows— that his dad was a renowned movie star and his ma’s the cousin of the queen of England. Henry was fifteen years old when he first started to hate as much.  When a nurse assigned to his father's hospital room leaked his death before the doctor even had time to tell them, his damn wife and kids.

Henry was sixteen and lost at sea when Philip and the bloody queen herself sat down with him to tell him that his public presence required a certain sort of image, a  discrete sort of image. An image that didn’t condone printed scarves and lingering hands with the son of a Lord who was two years ahead of him in Eton. Henry was eighteen years old when he ran off to America and learned how to keep everything hush, hush,  becoming untethered to all the bull shit surrounding him.  When he was accepted to Yale, and joined a fraternity and tried his damndest to emulate some douchebag wanker in the likeness of Philip.

And you know what, it was all going as planned until Henry met the infuriatingly arrogant, and downright mesmerizing boy in the rival fraternity. The one with an upturned nose and such big brown eyes and a delicious sort of half grin when Henry challenges him on something, or keeps him on his toes. Though if Henry’s being frank, he likes it most when Alex is keeping him on his knees, when Henry’s mouth is full and Alex’s lips are preening and he’s spouting out a sort of cursed poetry with every flick of Henry’s tongue and bobbing of his head.

Though that’s irrelevant now in the light of day when they’re on opposing sides and Alex is smirking at him from across the way with such irresistible swagger, sporting Henry’s red t-shirt that brings out the specs of golden in his almost molten eyes.

Henry hates him.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he calls out, just because he knows it makes Henry flush.

“The room’s ours, you prick,” Henry retorts, beyond mulish.

“It’s so cute when you get all flustered, Fox.”

“I’m not joking around, Alexander! That room’s been Alpha Delta Phi’s every opening week since the bloody eighties.”

“Don’t you think it’s time for a change in venue then?” Alex asks with an owlish blink, sliding lower in his seat so that his legs spread even further.

Oh fuck him. Fuck Alex Claremont-Diaz’s stupid cocky attitude and his stupid fucking face and so what if Henry just wants to just fuck him stupid. He can’t win just because Henry’s a weak, weak man.

“The room’s ours, Alex,” he warns lowly.

“You wanna prove it, pretty boy?”

Henry’s eyes flicker to the clock over the office door. It doesn’t technically open for another quarter of an hour, and they’ve worked with less time in even more compromising positions, so Henry doesn’t think twice when he tugs a very caught off-guard Alex into the bathroom down the hall, praying to God that there are no cameras around here.

“Woah there cowboy, didn’t get enough last night?” Alex grins, hands already down to unbutton Henry’s jeans.

“You’re fucking infuriating,” is all Henry says in answer, swatting Alex’s hands away before going down on his knees and tugging down the abhorrently orange basketball shorts Alex has on. God, if Henry actually cared he’d pull Alex aside and give him a lesson on what’s actually excusable to wear in public.

“Now why don’t you try to stay quiet for once,” Henry tells him in a hush, biting lightly on the skin of Alex’s inner thigh before kissing the spot in penance.

“Psha, you — erm, you like it when I’m loud.”

Henry doesn’t argue, isn’t in the mood to lie. Instead he takes him in slowly, tongue lapping around Alex’s tip and pushing down with precision.

“Ah, yeah H,” Alex blurts, about two octaves higher than his normal speaking voice, as his head hits the stall, a shaking hand curled in Henry’s hair while the other one is clenched tight around his shoulder.

Henry lets one of his hands wrap around the base of Alex’s cock as the other inches to Alex’s admittedly fantastic ass, wants this done quick and sloppy and to teach Alex a lesson that he can’t just win every argument by sitting around looking like some sort of brought to life Grecian statue.

“Henry— H,” Alex comes too close to whining, tugs harder on his hair and cants his hips forward. He at least has the decency to look sheepish. “You really need to calm down or I’m,” Alex falters right then, eyes going blown when Henry’s first finger dips into his asshole, hooking in deep before Henry takes a mouth full of him again. He repeats the action another two and a half times before Alex has to frantically tap on his head in warning, and Henry gets to stand up — more than a bit smug — smirking down at a boneless Alex who’s using the stall as his only support.

“I reckon while you clean up here, I’ll go speak with the dean on the behalf of Alpha Delta Phi,” Henry tells him, swiping his mouth with the back of his hand to get rid of the pre-cum still found there.

Alex’s brows hike up as he slowly realizes what Henry has done, breathless while he spews out a fuming, “Bastard.”

“Least you got a consolation prize love,” Henry goads, kissing him full on the mouth before adjusting himself and walking back out to the office.

Alpha Delta Phi gets the room just like they have for the past half century, and Alex fucks Henry senseless for the next week. Balance is restored.

.-

Henry thinks it’s important to note that this thing he has with Alex — well, it’s not even a thing, really. They’re fuck buddies, but no. That would imply that there is some sort of camaraderie found between them, when simply there just is not. It’s a thing of convenience, truly.

The fact of the matter is that they find one another ridiculously hot, but also can’t stand a prolonged conversation without feeling the burning need to wring the others neck by the end of it. They realized as much halfway through freshman year when they had the same English lit class and Henry had to be physically restrained by Pez when Alex was arguing against Henry’s point about Hemingway being oversaturated and a blowhard.

“He’s a classic,” Alex had charged, the snow of early February in New England cascading in his dark curls and catching in his long lashes.

“He’s only adored because he’s got a dick! Why don’t you read Austen or at least a man who has something to say!” Henry had fumed.

“Let me guess, you like Metamorphosis?”

“What do you have against Kafka?” Henry gaped, only just beginning to notice the others eyeing the pair of them. And yeah, it might’ve been bewildering how they’re arguing about literaries from centuries passed in the middle of a bonfire party, but people need to learn how to mind their own fucking business.

“Well dude, if we’re speaking about blowhards, he’s definitely the king of them,” Alex had snorted loftily, taking a swig of his spiked hot chocolate.

“Don’t call me dude,” Henry had sniffed, which made Alex squint at him, more than a bit amused.

“Okay, tell me, does Prince Douche do anything for ya, pretty boy?”

That was the first night Henry grabbed Alex by the collar and showed him what it meant to be an actual blow hard. And well….they never stopped. They didn’t stop the sniping at each other or the razor-tipped barbs being volleyed around, and especially not the fucking. Never the fucking.

But yeah, it’s not really anything, especially not the best thing. It could never be that. And not even just because his shitty family basically told him straight up that Henry could never actually come out in the public eye, Henry’s accepted that, has learned how to slink around those rules to live in some sort of happy purgatory. But the thing is, Henry’s just not a good boyfriend. He’s always too in his own head and he’s not really that attentive, and besides all that, Henry didn’t come to university to meet some bloke and live some gay romance story from the 1900s.

Henry’s here at university to get a degree, to become someone. He’s here because his father always told him to reach for the heavens, to do something beyond himself. Henry wants to be the next great literary, wants to write something that matters, that makes a difference. Something that’ll make Beatrice laugh with no more worry eclipsing the sound, and maybe even something that’ll bring the stars back in his mother’s eyes. Henry wants to say something that’s worth being said.

Henry doesn’t want to have anything getting in the way of that, preventing him from becoming someone important. But regardless, it’s not as if Alex has ever seen Henry as more than a good lay, has made it abundantly obvious throughout the year and a half  of their sleeping around. Most notably, that three month interlude when Alex began dating that boy from the student government, Liam whoever, at the end of last term. Though to be frank, Alex was always far out of Liam’s league, and the week that followed their breakup included some of the most dynamic and mind-blowing sex Henry’s ever experienced.

But that’s irrelevant.

Alex and Henry are only a last resort to one another, and it doesn’t have to mean anything more, it doesn’t have to be complicated, Henry hates it when things get complicated.

.-

Henry’s in the midst of editing his term paper on the impact that Woolf created in the discussion of gender in Orlando when he gets a text from Pez telling him to “stop being a robot.”  

Glaring, Henry ignores the text from Beatrice about David, and the email regarding alpha Delta Phi’s first charity function for this term, and the half dozen snapchat notifications from Alex alone. He instead moves to reply to Pez with a middle finger emoji before he’s accosted by a pair of hands wrapping around his eyes.

“Guess who?” an ever-amused and incredibly buoyant  voice asks.

“A prick?” Henry replies in a deadpan, making it so Alex cuffs him on the back of the head.

“Say dick you douche, you’re in America now,” he commands, taking a seat besides him in the almost empty top floor of the silent library.

“Fuck off,” Henry hisses, rubbing the tender spot. “And since when are you in the library this late?”

“You mean at three in the morning?” Alex says pointedly. “Never, because I’m normal and not a school-obsessed freakazoid like you.”

Henry sticks out his tongue in retaliation because he’s too groggy to come up with anything clever.

“And yet?”

“I’m a good person and dropped off a spare key to a brother who’s wigging out about a midterm,” Alex says, studying Henry with a peculiar amount of intensity. “Saw your pale ass haunting this place like a ghost and thought I’d bug you a little.”

“What is it?” Henry asks moodily, surprised at the lapse of silence that follows before Alex shrugs in answer.

“You’ve got some nasty circles under your eyes, white boy,” he says, not quite as crude as usual but Henry still glares in exasperation.

“So what? You got up in the middle of the night just to help a friend and criticize my looks?” Henry says with a huff, rubbing his strained eyes, only just starting to feel the exhaustion weighing heavy on his shoulders.

“I was at Nora’s place, so I was already up,” Alex says, unwittingly making it so Henry stiffens.

It’s not unusual for them to discuss each other's conquests, but it’s different when it comes to Nora. Henry knows that she and Alex had dated for a stint freshman year before the two of them  crossed paths. She’s a gorgeous and fierce computer sciences major with a minor in mathematics. There’s no way in hell that Alex isn’t still carrying a torch for her, which is fine and all, it’s not like Henry and Alex are anything beyond occasional hookups, but yeah— it still makes it so something uncomfortable is squirming right beneath the surface of his skin. And God does Henry hate it.

“How is she?” Henry asks evenly, ignores the way Alex is searing a hole into the side of his head while Henry adjusts the syntax of one of his topic sentences.

“Fine,” he says in the same detached sort of inflection. “You’re working on that paper for your gender lit class?”

“It’s due tomorrow morning,” Henry answers.

“Haven’t you been done with it for, like, a week?” Alex asks.

“Haven’t you heard that revising is the only way to get a decent paper?” Henry sniffs.

“Dude, I think you’ve edited enough,” Alex snorts. Everything always coming so fucking easy to him, it’s maddening. He’s gorgeous and charming and brilliant and he doesn’t even have to try. But worst yet, it’s not even a big deal to him. Even if he weren’t all those things he never had a family name to live up to, was never expected to be something he was not. Henry’s so fumingly envious but also so goddamn lost on him and  how it is he’s come to be.

“Alexander, is there a purpose for this ridiculous conversation?” Henry lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I really need to get back at this.”

“And what? Not sleep till tomorrow?” Alex snipes.

“If you don’t say anything worth my while in the next five seconds, I'm putting my earbuds back in and ignoring you,” Henry tells him point blank. “Five, four, three—“

Alex’s face goes a furious scarlet, jaw set, before he gets close enough that his breath skirts against Henry’s lips, and his hand finds its way to the front of his trousers.

“I’d really like it if you’d let me jerk you off right now.”

It's Henry’s turn to burn red.

“What?”

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

“We’re in public.”

“We’re in a dark library in the middle of the night and your weird ass always picks the corner surrounded by the shelves.”

“It’s always quietest,” Henry argues weakly.

“Bet we can change that,” Alex counters smugly.

Henry has already admitted that he’s a weak man, so he’s not surprised when Alex’s challenge actually works and he’s led to the most concealed corner with heated kisses and impatient grappling tugging him closer.

“You’re unruly,” Henry whines when Alex bites down at the hinge where the column of his neck meets his shoulder.

“And you’re really sexy when you’re all focused and nibbling down on that pen,” Alex leers, pulling himself and Henry out of their pants. “Really gets a guy imagining things.”

Henry swallows down, hard.

“What sorts of things?” He asks lightly.  

“You know H,” Alex croons,  gets a hand locked around each of them, knocking the breath out of Henry and making it so he’s gripping at the shelves, bracketing Alex on either side. “You get this little dent between your brows,” he leans forwards and nibbles against Henry’s neck once more. “’S the same one you get right before you cum.”

“Oh yeah?” Henry asks, pleads as he jerks into Alex’s hand, watching the moonlight dancing in his hair and tracing his strong features with a romantic sort of gentleness. Holy fuck, is he beautiful.

Okay, so Henry might’ve said that last part out loud, but he doesn’t even care because Alex’s grin goes lopsided, and he kisses the corner of Henry’s mouth and everything goes a blinding white when Alex strokes him over the edge.

“You are really something, Henry Fox,” Alex says in a voice that’s caught between befuddlement and a sort of wondrous intrigue. Henry can’t really reply though, feels heavy and sated and like he really wants to curl up with Alex. But that’s a ridiculous notion and Henry needs to get those thoughts out his mind or else this’ll all be ruined.

“You’re like an orgasm fairy,” Henry tells him in a yawn.

“I want that for my epithet,” Alex winks, gently pushing Henry’s overstimulated cock back into his briefs and zipping him back up. “I’m calling one of the vans if you want to join, our houses are the same way,”

Henry blinks, confused. “I can’t,” He tells him with a hint of irritation. “I’ve got to finish that paper.”

Alex frowns fully now, pinning him with a one-eyed squint.

“You look like you’re about to drop dead.”

“This’s how I always look after sex,” Henry contends, unconvincing to his own ears.

“You’re gonna run yourself into your own grave if you don’t give yourself a break,” Alex tells him, near fuming.

“Then that’ll be my own doing,” Henry says, steadfast.

“That’s fucking psychotic,” Alex hisses and Henry hates how he can’t understand why this, being here, being worth something greater than just a jumble of letters and familial connection, is so important to Henry.

“’S not your life to live,”  he shrugs, turning away from Alex.

“You don’t have to be the best to be worth anything, Henry,” he calls after him, cutting and cruel and careless.

Henry feels like he’s been caught out, like he can’t breathe. And how dare Alex, how dare he pretend that their situations are at all similar. Like there aren’t chasms separating them.

“Fuck you, Alexander.”

“I mean that’s all you ever want, isn’t it?”

There’s a sound like Alex kicking a chair but Henry doesn’t know for sure, refuses to turn around and check.

.-

It’s been two weeks since the library incident.

Neither of them has texted first, not even glancing in the other’s direction in the one class they share. And it’s good, it’s fine, it’s whatever. Henry’s never wanted anything more than a consistent fuck, and Alex has got dozens of options of incredibly pretty and incredibly smart and incredibly affable people just like him. He doesn’t need Henry and Henry doesn’t need him.

It’s fine.

“It doesn’t look fine, mate,” Pez tells Henry that Friday night with knit brows and a worried expression splayed out all over his face. Henry doesn’t answer in so many words, just tosses him the bird instead. “Right, good talk.”

“It’s nothing, Pez,” Henry insists, taking a drag of his joint and pretending that it helps.

“Then come to the party with us tonight, yeah? It’s Spencer’s birthday and I know he’d be a total mess if you actually tagged along to get drunk with us commoners.”

Henry glares with feeling but accepts the offer merely to prove his point that whatever happened between him and Alex means nothing.

Admittedly, that notion might’ve been thrown out the godforsaken window when the party goes into full swing and Henry finally catches sight of Alex near the beer pong table, laughing with Liam of all fucking people.

They look happy, happier than Henry’s ever seen him.

Henry feels cold all over.

He doesn’t know why he’s acting like this, doesn’t understand the reason why his stomach’s twisting into knots and his veins are spiking with a truly awful emotion and why his ribcage has cracked open, screaming at Alex, telling him to notice, to look at Henry, to see that he’s here, dammit. To see that Henry’s here and whole and has so much to give him even if it looks like the contrary.

Henry doesn’t understand any of it, so he ignores the feelings and races up stairs to his room, crossly slamming his door shut and cursing at his own stupidity.

Like he does whenever he’s overwhelmed, Henry grabs for one of the novels lining his shelf and gets lost in the fictitious lives penned in black and white, lives far away from his reach, lives that Henry could get lost in studying and forget his own for only a little while. It’s what he did when Bea and Philip were doing grown up things and he was stuck at home all alone. What he did for days on end in the hospital room, reading to his father while he faded away bit by bit. It’s what he did to forget the fact that his own brother wants him to hide himself in all his varieties of light.

It’s the one constant in Henry’s life and he does it now, gets lost in the words and tries to forget the throbbing to his own heart.

It’s the first time it doesn’t work.

.-

Henry doesn’t know how much time passes when his door creaks open and he looks up to a face he put to memory long ago, even if he pretended otherwise.

“Alexander?”

“Cinderella,” he grins, slow and warm like molasses. “‘How cruel, your veins are made of ice water, and mine are boiling.’”

Henry’s heart feels like it’s just lodged into his throat, his eyes never leaving Alex’s own.

“Excuse me?”

“Wuthering Heights,” he says nonchalantly with a one-armed shrug while stepping closer into the room and pushing the door shut. “It’s your favorite book to read when you’re overwhelmed.”

Henry’s lips pinch, sitting up completely now, regarding Alex fully. “Is that right?”

“Mhmm. You like Sense and Sensibility when you’ve done well on a paper. And you have a secret copy of Little Women stuffed under your bed for whenever Bea messages you and you begin to miss her.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a stalker, Alexander,” Henry says, pretending that the butterflies swarming in his belly are just from nerves of speaking to him after so long and not from the pleasure of him knowing Henry without his evening realizing it.

“You’re not that difficult to figure out, Fox. I’ve told you: you’re just a bimbo with great legs and an accent that makes people think you know two shits about anything.” Alex flops stomach first on Henry’s bed, his head resting up against Henry’s thigh. It’s against Henry’s will when his hand moves forwards to card through Alex’s mussed curls.

“Charming, you’re truly so charming, Alexander. Do you know that?” Henry says blithely.

“The newspapers call me charismatic,” he smirks airily, making it so Henry can’t help but snort.

“Prick.”

“Says the guy who ghosted me,” Alex counters.

“The phone works both ways, love,” he says condescendingly, hating how something golden and splendid is coiling somewhere deep inside of him, merely to due with Alex’s presence.

“Pfft.” Alex gets up now so that they’re face to face, brown eyes boring into blue. “Do you know what you told me after the first night we slept together?”

Henry doesn’t have the slightest clue, so he just shrugs helplessly. “You’ve got a good mouth?”

“Shut the fuck up, you ass. I’m being serious.”

“So am I?”

“You called me a fucking distraction,” Alex hurls, like it’s been something that’s been clawing against him for a while now, itching to be spoken, clacking against his teeth and finally pouring out with vengeance. “You said you had to do well in your studies and you didn’t need a distraction.”

Henry furrows his brows, confused to the point he’s trying to make.

“And you agreed, if memory serves me well,” He says defensively.

“Yeah, because I wasn’t about to be rejected by some rich, pretty boy.”

“I hope you thought a bit more of me than that,” Henry teases, inches closer to him so that the tips of their fingers touch on the bedding.

“You also have a truly remarkable shoulder-to-waist ratio.” Alex shrugs, and Henry knows he’s trying to be a shit, but he still preens. Likes the reminder that Alex is just as much into him as he is Alex.

“I don’t see what’s wrong here.”

Alex shoves at Henry’s forearm, hard.

“The problem, you prick, is that for some fucked-up reason I was actually into you, like a lot.”

Henry’s head swings up from where it was lazily gazing at Alex’s lips, waiting for a chance to kiss them.

“Like truly into me? Like you want to go steady and out on dates and spend the night in my bed?”

“I mean, whatever the non-old man sounding equivalent of that is,” Alex tacitly agrees, head cocked like he’s trying to parse out Henry’s own feelings.

And for his part, Henry can’t believe what he’s hearing, what Alex’s saying, what he’s confirming. This must be a dream, a figment of Henry’s imagination. Stuff like this doesn’t happen to him, they happen to the protagonists of his favorite stories, not real life.

“Wh—What? Why?”

“Dude, that’s what I’ve been asking myself for the past year and a half,” Alex gripes, rocking back; Jesus fuck, he’s nervous. He’s just admitted all his feelings like that and he’s waiting for Henry to either confirm or shoot him down. Henry’s the one with the upper hand here, and it’s awful.

Holy fuck.

“You—you said you liked me,” Henry says tentatively. “But now, do you—erm, ahem,” Henry coughs awkwardly, and Alex is gracious enough to answer the unspoken query.

“I didn’t break up with Liam last semester because he didn’t root for the Cowboys, dumbass.”

“Oh,” Henry blinks, befuddled, which makes Alex roll his head back so fiercely that Henry’s afraid he might strain something.

“I broke up with him because I’ve got this massive, irrecoverable, disgusting thing for this blonde prick. A douche who puts too much on his shoulders and tries to prove something to someone who isn’t even here, and who is so goddamn dense that I have to spell my feelings out to him like he’s actually a frat bro instead of just pretending to be.”

Henry feels himself going scarlet, feels it how his heart blossoms with wanting, unrestrained and painful in its ferocity.

“But Nora?”

Alex’s face goes blank, and then a sickly green color. “Dude, why are you bringing my sister’s girlfriend into this?”

“Wait—You’re not? I thought you still had a, erm—a thing for her?”

“She’s not the one I just gave a Twilight-level cringe speech to, is she?” Alex harrumphs, crossing his arms and scowling at a point over Henry’s shoulder.

“So, you really like me?” Henry asks hopefully.

“I swear to God, Fox: if you don’t tell me how you feel in the next five seconds I’m going to—“

Alex stops speaking right then, is interrupted by Henry’s slamming lips and desperate palming and long limbs tangling into one another.

“You’re a monster,” Alex pants once Henry’s lips finally unlatch from his and Henry’s almost tearing off his shirt.

“I can’t believe you actually want this,” Henry says in contrary. “I’m a mess, you do realize as much, don’t you?”

Alex looks endeared when he smiles, shrugging helplessly. “I like messes.”

Henry can’t help the laugh he lets out, relishes when Alex finally gets a good hold of him and lays him back so that they’re pressed skin to skin and he’s spouting out nonsense about Henry’s eyes and mouth and dick, each point punctuated  with a kiss across Henry’s protruding collarbone, helps him shed off the last of his clothing.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,”Alex marvels, making Henry’s cheeks redden and causing him to hide it by kissing along Alex’s jaw.

“I’ve liked you for so long,” Henry can admit in the blanket of night, is soft when he slants their lips back up against each other, back arching when he feels Alex pressing inside of him, stretching him out. He’s always so gentle with Henry, even before this was supposed to mean anything. But, holy fuck, who’s he kidding––this has always meant something, even when Henry pretended otherwise.

“You’re the most stubborn fuck I’ve ever met,” Alex tells him, making it sound like an exaltation. “You always had your mind set, know exactly where you’re gonna go.”

Henry groans when Alex puts in the second slicked up finger, followed quickly by the third.

“Ah-Alex, ‘Lex, please.”

“You’re so smart and beautiful, and you have such a good heart.” Alex just keeps on talking, only stopping occasionally to pepper a kiss on a spot around Henry’s face.

Henry feels his eyes prickle with wetness, knows that it’s a combination of feeling so much and feeling so exposed, so open in Alex’s eyes.

“You’re amazing, sweetheart,” Alex whispers, kisses the tears away before he lines up and thrusts into him, something this side of painful with the first couple canting of the hips, until he hits that miraculous point that makes Henry’s insides go feral and something ferocious unfurl within him.

“Alexander, please. Please, love, please,” Henry pleads, hands scratching against Alex’s back and head tossed with yearning.

“You’re so good, so perfect, Henry,” Alex says like an oath, pushing deeper and harder into him, biting down on Henry and making him shout as he cants his hips up to meet each of Alex’s own.

Alex is spouting out a new round of praises towards Henry’s brilliance and butt and beauty and Henry can hardly handle it, feels the white streaks landing on his belly right before Alex begins speeding up in a graceless round of thrusts, finishing  with a blown out expression, slowly pulling out and tossing the condom to the trash bin beside the bed.

He collapses half on top of Henry but he doesn’t mind, moves slightly so that the blanket is covering the both of them and kisses Alex’s shoulder tenderly.

“I think I might love you,” he whispers, snuggling closer to Alex.

“Good,” he yawns, slings an arm around Henry’s torso and curves against him. “Makes us even.”

.-

Next week Henry calls Philip and tells him to kiss his ass, and that he doesn’t have to prove shit to anyone.

“You’re sexy when you’re mad,” Alex tells Henry when he hangs up.

“You always think I’m sexy,” Henry sniffs loftily.

“Guilty as charged.” Alex shrugs, pulls up to kiss him senseless once more, making everything go delirious.

[warmau]

☆ [nostalgic] summer romance!au taeyong  hbbd to our beloved leader! | find others here: johnny | haechan | taeil

mark is giving you a quizzical look from over the counter, fingers tapping against the register

“taeyong? no, i haven’t seen him. doesn’t he usually disappear during the summer?

mark is right

taeyong does tend to vanish just as the weather gets warmer and there isn’t an excuse of class or work for him to make his presence known

you heard rumors about how his parents send him abroad to some kind of family owned estate, vast and beautiful and far away from the mundane place you call home

everyone is always saying he’s hiding something. that something, everyone whispers is money 

he has to be rich, no one else has the kind of luxury of having a summer long holiday to the other side of the world

but you doubt it, if his family is so loaded, taeyong wouldn’t be spending the rest of the year sitting across from you in physics 

you’re sure wealthy kids can afford something better than public schools

“actually......”

you look up and mark takes of the uniform hat he’s supposed to wear for his job at the local burger joint, he scratches the top of his head and then snaps his fingers

“i did see him not too long ago, maybe - on monday? he was standing next to his bike in front of the trails.”

“as in the forest trails?”

mark nods, he looks like he wants to say something else but the voice of his manager makes him scurry to the back with a final a wave

you take the medium soda you ordered, the ice melted and the cup wet under your fingertips

whats taeyong doing going to the mountains all alone?

its getting dark by the time you make your way halfway through the trail, you know mark said he saw taeyong monday and its been three days since then

but you just wanted to make sure, even though you’re here and you haven’t seen one other person through the trees 

finally you think you should turn around and go back - but you look to the side and spot a bike leaned up against a mossy, large boulder

its off the trail - so its kind of creepy - but you inch just a bit closer, close enough to see taeyongs name scribbled on the middle bar, below the seat

the clouds are slowly and surely coming in over the light blue sky, so now its just going to get dark and rain

but you think just exploring for another five or so minutes cant hurt

you push past some bushes and wander until you finally pull back some branches from a sagging old willow and see the entrance to a small, but open meadow

in the middle of it - someone is splayed out and reaching up toward the sun

“t-taeyong?”

his hand drops and turns his head, the last droplets of sunlight flicker off his skin

he doesn’t say anything for a while and neither do you

until he sits up and asks you what you’re doing off the trail

you know you can ask him the same thing, but something stops you from stringing the sentence together

instead you feel the darker clouds grow heavy in the sky and soon enough you feel the drizzle

“i just got lost’

you lie and taeyong stands up from the meadow, pointing behind you

“we should go before the storm comes all the way in.”

taeyong leads the way back to the main path, grabbing his bike as you two make way back down to the opening of the forest

you sort of fall behind him, eyes on the broad of his back 

you want to make conversation - but you dont know what to say

once you reach the end, the rain has gotten stronger and you ask taeyong if he wants you to drive him back to his place

motioning shyly to your car

he smiles, and even through the darkening weather, it seems to make his face glow

“that’s alright, thanks.”

and then he hops on his bike, his figure smaller and smaller as he rides down the road

you watch it, getting drenched in the process, but something about seeing him makes the rain feel like nothing more than morning dew

you go back to the meadow the next day, earlier - closer to noon - and taeyong is there

at first you tell yourself: stop being weird, just turn around and leave him alone. you might have had classes with him but its not like you two were even friends! hes going to think you’re crazy for showing up here again!

but something inside you refuses to let you give up

you clear your throat and call out to him

taeyong doesn’t turn his head this time, in fact he doesn’t move from where he’s flat on his back in the middle of the grass and wild flowers

panic sets over you and you rush over, knees hitting the ground as you hover over him

his eyes are closed, but the corner of his mouth twitches a bit at the small sound that you make

he’s just sleeping.

you realize, tracing the godly lines that make up his almost impossibly handsome face

he manages to look magical even like this.

“hello?”

taeyong’s eyes are open now - lazily, amber browns staring up at you curiously

you jerk your head away and feel your shoulders stiffen

what do i say? what do i do? he must think im such a freak-

“are you lost again?”

his sits up, propping himself on his elbows and looking at you innocently

“n-no! i just - i um - since i know the way now. i mean i saw your bike again. i just - um-”

the words get tangled in your mouth and so you give up and taeyong doesn’t look as annoyed or as angry as you expect

he just smiles, the same smile he gave you when you two parted ways last night

“a-are you always here?”

you blurt out, trying to compensate for your lack of an answer to his original question

taeyong nods, “i am always here.”

“everyone thinks you go abroad during the summer, b-but you’re really here right?”

its weird that you pose it like a question, so you laugh it off in hopes he wont catch on

but taeyong turns his eyes back toward the sun and falls back against the pillow of flowers

“nope, i dont go abroad. im right here.”

you look up at the sky, nothing special about it, just bright and blinding like any summer days

you wonder how he doesnt get bored just ........... laying here and looking up at it 

“people in town like it though.”

he suddenly adds and you shift so instead of sitting back on your heels, you’re laying down beside him 

its the closest you’ve ever been to him and you have half a thought he might shift away uncomfortably when your elbows brush but ..... he doesnt

“like what?”

he pauses, a long pause and you almost think he isnt going to answer as your eyes trace the wings of a butterfly that pass by

“they like that i disappear. i think they like it better when im not around.”

you sit up, confused and look at taeyong

“but people are always talking about you-”

“right, but i dont think that means they like me.”

he follows the same butterfly you were just looking at and you try to think of a counterpoint to argue

but you cant

taeyong is the most talked about person in your town, from his statue like looks to the rumors circulating about his familys wealth

but

youve heard the jealousy-induced whispers too

you cant lie and say you havent

you carefully lay back down and take a second in the silence of the forest to think

“i like you.”

you hear taeyong turn his head but you’re nervous about saying it outloud and so you can’t bring yourself to read the expression he might be making

“i dont know much about you, but .......... i think i like you. we had one class together last semester, physics and you would always help me and other people. sometimes i wanted to ask if you wanted to come with me to go get lunch but i was-”

you’re rambling, your aware so you stop

but taeyong whispers,

“but you were?”

now you turn to look at him and you’re surprised to see the usual glassy far-off look in his eyes has turned serious

“i was sc-scared? i just thought you wouldnt care to ......... hang out with me?”

you think your palms are sweating and you hide them in your pockets, taeyong is looking at you - really looking at you - for the first time ever and it stirs a feeling youre not used to in the pit of your stomach

“i would have loved to.”

his voice is faint, but there’s no one else but you and him, so you hear him clearly

you giggle, a nervous habit, and then swallow it down

“well - now i know. ill invite you when- when the summer is over.”

he turns back and closes his eyes, the sun basks down on him like the grace of a goddess 

nothing else is said. when it starts to darken, and your hungry stomach makes a noise that keeps you embarrassed

you and taeyong walk back down the trail. you offer him a ride again, but he says now and rides off with a smile

you get into this habit now, you get to the meadow - earlier and earlier - hoping one day to beat taeyong to it

but he’s always there before you

you also start bringing lunch and when you first offer half of the sandwich you’ve made to taeyong he looks too shy to take it

but on the third try, he gives in

you also..................talk a lot more with him 

and realize you were right, taeyong is as kind as you had thought him to be

and his gentleness isnt lost on you from how he helps you up from the grassy meadow when its time to go - to how he talks in a small voice to forest creatures that scamper past you two

you never thought you’d end up spending your whole summer off the trail, laying around beside lee taeyong

but not a day of it feels wasted, even though you both do ultimately nothing

one evening, as you’re walking down the trail, you both come to a stop in front of the mossy rock that taeyong’s bike should be leaned up against

except that its gone

and for the first time - due to circumstance - taeyong accepts the ride back home

the car is quiet, as are the streets that you drive through to get to his house

suddenly, without any thought you ask taeyong;

“do you sometimes go up to the meadow because you want to disappear?”

you glance at him in the rearview mirror and see hes already looking at you

“not just because you think others want you too?”

his lips thin, but his eyes don’t flatter from yours

“yes.”

you nod, shoulders tightening a little as you focus your own gaze on the road

“a-are you ok with my company?”

you make a turn and are worried by the silence that follows. taeyong’s house is coming into view and you realize he could just get out without answering you

but when you come to a stop, neither of you moves a muscle

you let your hand drop from the wheel and just as it does, taeyong catches it

his fingers are warm and his palm is soft you let out a small gasp and turn to see he still has his eyes on you

“im fine with it.”

a dust of pink comes over the bridge of his nose and spreads down onto his cheeks

“im fine disappearing with you. no one said i had to do it alone.”

that feeling in the pit of your stomach that you get around him sometimes seems to bubble and burst into a flurry storm of wings and glitter inside you

your eyes move on their own, skimming down his face to his lips in an anxious line

holding his hand is different from all those times you’d lay elbow to elbow with him

and thinking about kissing him..................is a jump over a fence higher than just the thoughts youve had about getting to know him better

you think your shoulders shake and taeyong looks like he wants to lean in 

but the lights on his porch flicker on, and he says he’ll see you tomorrow

his warmth leaves your hand, but right as he steps out of the car, you scramble over to the passengers seat

one hand on the window and you look at him

“h-how will you get to the meadow, without your bike?”

he startles, but frowns

“right,i think i can walk ther-”

“i can pick you up.”

taeyong smiles, this smile - as soft and as sweet as the rest - is just a bit more......happy.

“ok - can you come by at around nine?”

“i promise to be here.”

he hesitates and you cant believe you’re about to say this, but you do

“want to seal it with a kiss?”

he looks over his shoulder, his front door hasnt opened yet

he leans down and its a little awkward and weird, but its cute and when you break away you wave goodnight to him 

and he trips over the sidewalk as he waves back

the next day, when you two are laying back in the flowers

you turn to him

“is it ok if we re-do our kiss?”

he laughs, “i wanted to ask too, kissing through a car window is a bit-”

you dont let him finish, rolling over to take his face in your own - you feel that smile of his on your lips

when summer comes to an end and taeyong shows back up in town, everyones gossip stirs back up

where’d he go this time, franc? italy? thailand? australia?

no, the only place he went - you want to tell them - is to the forest, and to that meadow, and to the center of your heart

you slip your hand into his when he comes to greet you outside one of the classroom 

and all of the gossip dies at the tip of peoples tongues

even now all these years later

when you and taeyong want to “disappear” for a little while

there’s a secret space, just for you two

let everyone else think you’re off in some other place - some other country - some other continent

disappearing together, is way better than disappearing alone. 

[storyofpetals]

@seraphicwept​ says: “ for me, it isn’t over. ” (Lucrecia to Cloud as we discussed 👀👌)

( adele lyrics. )

☆ ━━━ When Cloud looks at Lucrecia...

He sees something familiar in her eyes.

The shadow that tinges the brown hue of her irises--that flighty look of betrayal that stains every emotion she flickers his way is something he knows too well. She feigns smiles, tired as they are, she even giggles softly when Barret says a stupid remark (an often occurrence) or Tifa compliments her, awed by her quick wit and knowledgeable hands. But Cloud knows, in a heart wrenching way, that this woman has been broken.

The only other person more aware of this in the room is Vincent. Cloud glances his way now--sees, unsurprisingly, that Vincent is still tucked into the shadow of a corner, leaning against the smooth stone wall. Vincent pretends he is not watching Lucrecia’s every move--staring off into space one moment, but the second she moves his crimson eyes flick her way quickly--his expression entirely neutral, though Cloud suspects Vincent is burning inside right now.

Tifa snatches Lucrecia’s attention with a question about the immediate affects of taking Mako energy from the Planet--a subject Cloud is entirely disinterested in--so the ex-SOLDIER takes this moment to clomp up to Vincent, leaning against the cool wall beside him.

“...So, you gonna talk to her or what?” Cloud asks quietly, watching as Lucrecia patiently explains what she knows--which seems to be a lot, and rather complex information, if the way Tifa’s eyebrows furrow and eyes widen in wonder is any indication at all.

Vincent doesn’t move, a trait that has always unnerved Cloud, though he would never tell him that. The elder man is like a gargoyle, ever patient in his shadowy perch.

“Not yet,” Vincent says coolly, his gaze once again moving to Lucrecia. “We will talk when she’s ready. Our past won’t be easy to face. I can wait longer--as long as she needs.”

“How do you know--when its been too long? What if you miss your chance?” Cloud wonders aloud, Aerith’s death hovering on the fringes of his mind’s eyes--

He combats the image by looking to Vincent, surprised now that the crimson-clad man is staring right at Cloud.

“I’ve waited more than twenty years for this chance--I can wait longer. If it was not meant to be, then I can live with that. I got to see her happy, at least one more time. ...Isn’t that enough, Cloud?” Vincent murmurs, his voice so quiet Cloud nearly misses it as Tifa laughs.

( ISN’T THAT ENOUGH? )

Cloud thinks about Aerith’s laughter for the first time since she died--the first time he could think about her and not break, recalling those precious, little moments he thought was lost among the horror of her death--

“.......”

Lucrecia appears before them then, smiling serenely, canting her head up at Cloud. Vincent is careful to look away again, contemplating the gray of the wall ahead. 

“Do you have a moment, Cloud?” Lucrecia asks softly, her voice hesitating as if she already expects a no before he even answers.

“Yeah, sure,” Cloud mutters gruffly, pushing off the wall and slowly walking with Lucrecia to a little office tucked at the side of the room. She flicks on fluorescent lights above, which gutter on in sputters, and then closes the door.

She’s quiet now, folding her hands before her, gripping them together so tightly Cloud can see her knuckles turning white.

There’s a heaviness to the stuffy air--Cloud is certain he can smell the dust from all the old books on their bookcase, the mold on their pages. It’s quick to become nearly unbearable, so Cloud is about to say forget it and march back out the door--

But then Lucrecia looks up at him and those brown eyes are full of an inescapable darkness--the expression so familiar it’s like looking in a mirror. Tears that threaten to cascade down her cheeks brim on her eyelashes instead--

And she chokes out, “For me, it isn’t over.”

Cloud goes rigid as her truth sears him, as if she physically charred his skin with her words. 

S E P H I R O T H.

Vincent’s blatant lie--YOUR SON IS DEAD--screams at them both in the tiny office, loud in the room though it is not spoken.

...So, she knows. Of course she does, Cloud thinks numbly.

Cloud is quick to shut her down, something hateful smoldering in his belly.

“Look, I’m sorry, but I have to kill him. He’s going to destroy the Planet--” Cloud begins roughly, not looking into Lucrecia’s damn sorrowful eyes this time.

He didn’t come this far only to be told to turn back.

Yet... she doesn’t say anything at his angry declarations. In fact, Cloud hears her heels click on the wooden floor as she takes two tentative steps his way.

And she reaches out with one of her hands, which trembles as it covers the distance between them, encloses her fingers over Cloud’s glove. Wraps her thin fingers around his and squeezes gently.

Cloud finally glances her way again and she’s staring at him, a crumbling smile still fixed in place over her mouth. 

I know, she says without speaking the words. I know.

( ISN’T THAT ENOUGH? )

There’s something insidious about her endless sorrow--the way she struggles on, the rings under her eyes--it makes Cloud want to cry too.

They were both shattered by the same faceless people, betrayed in similarly terrible ways...

And Cloud knows then only Lucrecia would understand the haunting details of his past. Understand the depth of his heartache and loss--

Because she’s lived through it too.

But somehow, she survived it all.

“We’re going to need all the help we can get,” Cloud relents, softening under her eyes. “If you’re willing to try...”

He doesn’t pull his hand away. They stay like that for a few moments more--the bloody ribbon of their pasts that tie them together tightening.

Was she ready to defy fate one more time?