#we hadn’t actually stolen their name - they NEVER FUCKiNg CALLED THEMSELVES THAT

[pugh-bug]

Scott Lang x Reader Chapter 13

This chapter follows directly on from chapter 12 I REALLY need to make a master list I know. Ended up way longer than I expected but I hope you enjoy! :)) and let me know if you want to be added to my tag list <3

Warnings: smut, age gap, swearing as fucking always

‘Oh fuck,’ his eyelids fluttered as he rode into you. You wanted to take his shirt off and take all of him in but the pleasure was keeping you lay down. Scott felt your walls tightening as you struggled to decide where to look and what to do with your hands. He seemed to sense the indecision because in a surprisingly wholesome twist, Scott’s hand found its way in your hair before caressing your cheek. All you could hear was both of your heavier breaths matching each other’s rhythms. You’d known before (and of course said before) that you loved Scott but having him look at you with such compassion in bed made you know for certain.

You both let the pause continue but Scott’s impatience was obvious, despite him trying to hide it for your sake. ‘You’re wearing too many clothes,’ you finally said before smirking up at him. The atmosphere took an instant shift as the two of you fought with the fabric and felt it rip off of his chest. And oh fucking hell was the sight of Scott shirtless a treat. You knew he worked out, Tony had a gym everyone used for training, but you never knew he had actual ab muscles. Scott chuckled as he watched you stare at them in awe. Fuck fuck fuck. You couldn’t believe what was happening.

Scott’s finger below your chin guided your gaze back to his green eyes. There was no hesitation after that. As the two of you kissed with lust filled ferocity, you postured up and pushed down on Scott’s shoulders so you could sit in his lap. You tried to continue devouring each other’s taste but the sound that slipped from you as you sank down onto him was pornographic and distracting as hell. You rode him slowly because after such a long wait why not tease him? He could have made this happen ages ago. Selfish of him really.

‘Jesu-fuck Y/N,’ the poor man struggled to keep his head facing you and not back looking at the ceiling. ‘You feel amazing,’ you couldn’t help but beam at his praise. After spending so many nights touching yourself to the fantasy of riding him, having it happen in real life was overwhelming. His large hands gripped your waist while you continued your torment of slowly filling yourself up and down. You didn’t want this to just become another memory in the past that would never happen again. Scott’s firm hands digging into your waist brought you away from the nagging thoughts. ‘Fuck you’re so tight.’ He felt so good it was driving you insane. As he hit your g-spot dangerously slowly you let out a whine.

‘You..can go,’ he already sounded wrecked which made you smug as anything. ‘Faster than that Y/N.’ His eyes were closed but you were determined to keep yours open to look at his face. The obvious pleasure he was feeling. You decided to oblige him and speed up, never once did his cock grazing your g spot not send wonderful shivers down your spine. Your face felt hot- your whole body was on fire.

It was your turn to throw your head back. No one had made you feel as high as Scott, not even close. The man was fucking addictive.

All you could focus on was the full feeling you had in your stomach, Scott’s wrecked voice and his firm grip on your waist. Part of you wished they were around your neck. Maybe next time. ‘Scotttttt….’ you moaned. He fucking adored hearing you moan and hearing you say his name was going to send him over the edge. You wanted to see it. With desperate, yet shaky hands, you thought about crawling his back but it felt forced for a moment. Once again he sensed your minor uncertainty and handled it for you. ‘Come here,’ his voice was husky but breathless as he pulled you into a kiss while you rode him faster and faster.

Your walls were tightening and your toes began to curl on the bedsheets but you felt a sudden impulse to move so you pulled him on top of you. It broke the kiss but it meant on Scott’s next thrust you felt him even deeper and a prolonged moan left your open mouth as you came. Your eyes closed and your body jerked and writhed underneath Scott’s panting chest. He didn’t move for a moment, completely lost in witnessing you enjoy every second of your orgasm. It hit you in waves that felt endless for a moment before your entire body stopped its uncontrollable writhing that pushed Scott over the edge.

He came inside you and, for a moment, almost lost balance. You were so in shock from the huge mass of pleasure you’d just felt that your chest was rising and falling heavier than it did after a run. That orgasm had hit you like a brick. You struggled to sit up as you felt Scott, to your surprise, move down your body. How did he have any energy left? You were exhausted.

One more feeble attempt to sit up was not needed because Mr Scott Lang had decided to surprise you by inserting his fingers in your pussy and smugly licking your clit. Without the much needed warning. ‘Ah- too sensitive!’ You squealed, backing away from Scott on the bed to escape. He was definitely amused. ‘You okay over there?’ Wow. After the sounds he had made?! He was going to make you out to be overwhelmed? However his confident side made you wet and you were not one to complain after sex so:

‘I’m great.’ You smiled coyly and closed your legs as if you weren’t leaking his cum all over the bed and just there to talk. Scott smiled and made his way back over to you like a panther on some sort of sick hunt. ‘You’re trouble.’ He responded, almost judging but still humorous. When you didn’t respond you saw his face change to show some insecurity about his actions. ‘Are you already regrett-‘

‘I regret not getting you to slam me against a wall to be honest.’ You hugged your knees, your breath had returned to normal and you were grinning at Scott like a cat that had gotten its own way. Finally.

‘Well shit,’ he paused with his hand on his forehead and a raise of his eyebrows. ‘That can be arranged.’

Yes but not now, you thought, too tired for that. Must sleep. Must lie down.

The bed, despite being wet, was so inviting and Scott following your lead and wrapping his arms around your waist even more so. You felt safe next to him. At peace. You heard Scott’s breathing normalise but neither one of you spoke. There was no awkwardness like you’d feared and apart from the horrible intrusive thought ‘Am I better or worse than his ex wife’ you felt calm and… happy. Really happy. Tentatively, Scott’s hands found themselves stroking your hair. He ran his fingers through it gently and you smiled and closed your eyes. The smell of sex had filled the room but your arousal was somehow being overpowered by the calm. And there was one question you were curious about.

‘How long for you?’

You expected a brief silence or atleast a ‘Huh’ due to your vagueness but Scott just knew exactly what you’d meant.

‘Atleast a year,’ you quietly turned to face him so he knew he had your full attention. ‘But I really knew when you came to comfort me, on my anniversary.’ You couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows and scoff. ‘You mean when I came to annoy you on the roof?’ Scott’s smirk grew into a full grin at you. ‘And why is that so surprising?’ To be quite honest you’d felt like an intrude that night and not much help to him at all but it was nice to know he felt differently. He looked so pretty lay opposite you, your hands found their way into his hair ruffling it even more. ‘I don’t know.’ You lied.

‘What about you?’ It was his turn to play with your hair again. Oh that was easy. Too easy. ‘First day I met you,’ it was growing harder to look Scott in the eye as you admitted it. ‘I kept thinking about y- I only ever asked you dumb questions as an excuse to talk to you until- well until we were friends.’ He was listening intently which you were not used to men doing. “Were?” Scott questioned knowingly, he waited for your response and you could practically see his ego growing by the second. Of course ‘were’.

‘Well would you call this friendship?’ You laughed, gesturing to the two of you in bed slightly sweaty from moments earlier. After a second too long for your liking passed your eyes widened at the sight of Scott’s hoodie on the floor. You’d forgot he’d brought it with him and it looked comfy as anything. ‘Hold on I’ve always wanted to do this,’ you grinned excitedly like a little kid and Scott watched you in amusement. Struggling for a moment, you pulled the black hoodie over your head (because your hair wasn’t messy enough already) and gestured proudly to your new (stolen) outfit. It smelt like him which just made you giddier.

‘You’ve never slept with a guy and stolen his hoodie before?’ Scott raised his eyebrows clearly not believing you or understanding the appeal. ‘They’ve been out the fucking door too fast.’ You shrugged trying not to let that harsh fact sink in. Oh well. You were feeling good now at least. Scott frowned but once again you couldn’t help but not wait for his reply- just in case it hurt you in some way and brought your high down. ‘Kinda hungry not gonna lie.’ You hadn’t even eaten yet but that wasn’t what you were really thinking about as you stood over Scott as he sat on the bed.

Slyly, he ran his calloused hands under his hoodie and up your torso making you gasp. He couldn’t help but grin at the strong reactions you had to his mild touches. Deciding to really tease you, Scott’s hand traveled down to your pussy so he could finger you but being overstimulated you whined and grabbed his wrist. The man just thought you sounded pretty. ‘Fuck- you’re dripping sweetheart.’ You grinned once again at his words and clenched your thighs together. ‘Who’s fault is that?’

Tags: @supraveng @thottio @wandamaximoffshoe @aliceblxck @merleisapartygod @brianmayscurls

[from-a-reckless-writer]

The first tell was the body next to her. The second was the warmth. Her bed was never warm these days. The first two things had already clued her in that there was something off. Off was an understatement. She’s certain she passed out on her office floor clutching a bottle of alcohol and Jess was going to kill her in the morning. So, how the fuck-

The longer she stays there, eyes closed, feeling the breathing of a stranger, the more she’s convinced she’s suffered from amnesia. 

Beyond scared she opens her eyes, hoping, praying that she didn’t bring home some idiot from a cheap lesbian bar. Her eyes land on blonde hair and an all too familiar set of defined shoulders and Lena lets out a gasp of surprise. She sobers up, jerks upright. Jolting the pair of arms wrapped around her waist and making her companion wake abruptly. 

“Lena- Wha- Why’re you awake?”

“Kara-” That was all she was capable of as of the moment, because Kara was sitting up and flicking on the bedside lamp, letting Lena glimpse the small clock on the nightstand that read 4: 00 a.m. 

Kara’s voice was all raspy and sleep-laden and she was looking at Lena with concern. She was looking at Lena like they’ve done this all the time. And they did. 

Once. 

She remembers jerking awake screaming from nightmares and Kara holding her; remembers waking up to Kara’s screams and holding her. 

But this-

This wasn’t right. 

“Did you have a nightmare?” She asks, crinkle forming. And Lena just stares and stares and-

“Kara, this isn’t real.”

“What? Oh, baby, come here. That dream must’ve really done a number on you, huh?” Kara coos and she gathers Lena in her arms. Lena can do nothing but melt and follow Kara’s movements, her mind is still reeling. 

Trying to decipher the events that had led here. This wasn’t real. This-

A tremble shakes the bed. Lena’s heart rate ticks up, Kara seems to have heard because she’s tightening her embrace and more words come out of her lips, but Lena doesn’t hear a word of it.

“I’m here, you’re safe. I’m here.” 

Lena finally finds her voice and she slowly tries to extricate herself from Kara. She can feel her hesitating to let her go. 

“This isn’t real,” She repeats and Kara is ready to protest, “Please, Kara. Please listen to me?”

She nods. Kara was never one to deny Lena anything, anyway. Lena sighs a breath of relief. 

“Thank you. Uh- I think this isn’t real, Kara. I think I’m inside a Black Mercy induced dream.”

And as if it heard a cue, the bed and the rest of the room vibrates as if ashamed of being called-out so easily. 

“No, no, no. You aren’t. You’re real. I’m real, You-” Kara is scrambling for words, “Look- Here, feel this?” Kara frantically grabs her hand and presses it to her own chest, “Can you feel it? This is real. Don’t say it isn-”

Lena feels like sobbing, because it does feel real. The strong beats underneath her palm thundering through her very soul. It feels so so so fucking real. She’s never wanted something to be real as bad as this. She wants to believe, because Kara is looking at her with those baby blue eyes and she wants to say that ‘Yes, I believe it real. We’re real.’

She can’t.

“Kara, the bed is trembling. Can you feel it? This isn't real. You’re in my head.”

It was brutal. She watches Kara’s face fall. She retracts her hand back. 

“How are you so sure that this isn’t real?”

The question was asked with so much fear. 

“Because,” she starts shaky but certain, “I hurt you, Kara. And that is the one thing that I can never forget.”

It was true. She can never forget the way Kara crumpled to her feet. Can’t forget the way the Girl of Steel broke by Lena’s hands. Can’t forget the tear-stricken face. 

Can’t forget the pleas. 

“Don’t do this, Lena. Please, come on. Please, stay. Don’t leave. Not you, please I can’t-”

“Oh.”

The silence was deafening. She can’t look at Kara as she processes everything. So she takes the time to survey the room. And God, every inch of the room screams how much they’ve stitched their lives with the other. 

There were books haphazardly stacked in one corner, a painting easel in the other, Kara’s cape shining in the dim light of the lamp, Lena’s old MIT sweatshirt at the foot of the bed. 

A wedding portrait. They were married here. Fuck. 

Lena chances a glance at her left hand and not only does she find a ring but also a matching gold bracelet. A Kryptonian mating band. Now, she notices that Kara’s ring was worn on her neck next to her Mother’s necklace Lena supposes she wears it underneath the Super suit and a matching bracelet sitting on her left wrist. 

“I’m sorry,” Lena says ‘for everything.’ she wants to add but she remembers this isn’t her Kara. She doesn’t have a Kara. She doesn’t have any part of Kara. Not anymore.

“What are you sorry for? If anyone could figure out they were inside a parasite induced dream, it would be you.  You’re a genius but you’re dumb for apologizing. You should reject the fantasy now, Lena. You’ll die.”

Damn it, even here. 

Even here Lena is still hurting her and Kara still wants to save her. 

The tears finally fall. The sobs come next. 

“Oh, Lena. Come here. It’s okay. I’m here,”

“I- I know, I’ll die but God, Kara, I want to stay here. I- You’re my everything, you know?”

“I know, Lena. I’ve always known. You don’t have to die because I’ll always know. You need to get out of here now,” She whispers against Lena’s temple and Lena takes the time to breathe her in. God, even the scent smells real. 

“Y-you’re right. I should go, but-” Lena doesn’t know how to ask for what she wants. That was what her therapist had said the first time she booked an appointment.

“But what?”

“Tell me about our life here first?” At that Kara pulls away a bit to look into her eyes; gauging if this is really what Lena wants. 

It is, it’s what she wants but more than that it’s what she needs. The reassurance that somewhere out there, there was a world in which they made each other happy. That in a universe out there--whether real or not--the both of them had a taste of a happy ending.

“Okay, okay yeah. But first, promise me you’ll get out of here as fast as you can, once we’re done?” 

She was never one to deny Lena Luthor anything, remember? She was more than happy to recount the entirety of their love story to her.

“Thank you.” And Lena can’t help but press a soft kiss to Kara’s cheek. 

“Where do you want to start?”

“Do we have a dog?”

“Krypto,” Kara says with a shy smile as if she knows that Lena would laugh at the goofy sentimental name choice, “And a cat, Streaky Jr., you don’t allow pets in the bedroom so,”

“I’m impressed we have the time for pets,” Lena whispers as she shifts closer to Kara in the bed. Heart now beating in a steady calm rhythm, gone was the panic earlier, now replaced by a sense of security, no matter how false it is. 

“Well, you decided to distribute most of the workload to Jess--who you promoted to board member by the way, and to Sam. And since, Wednesday is my first day as Editor-in-Chief, my schedule’s not as busy as it was.”

It was nice to hear that. The way they have obviously chosen to grow into themselves together. She was glad that in her perfect world she hadn’t forgotten about Jess and Sam.

“Oh, and also you spend most of your days in our home lab with Jack anyway. So, the pets get plenty of love.”

“Jacky’s alive here?”

“Yeah, you reversed the nanotech matrix. You saved him.”

And the crying fest begins anew. 

“I miss him, so much.”

“I’m sorry.”

Lena doesn’t have to explain her reaction, Kara knows how to read her anyway.

At the reminder of Jack, Lena finds the courage to ask a question she’s never thought she would want to ask.

“What about Lex and Lillian?”

“Well, your brother’s probably drunk in an L-Corp gala somewhere and Lillian’s probably plotting about how she’s going to insult my next article-”

So, she still has her brother and it seems like Lillian’s not much of a xenophobe as she is in reality but she senses that she still is a bad mother with the way Kara talks.

“When did we get married?”

“Two years after we first met. We had two, actually.”

“I’m guessing I insisted on a Kryptonian wedding and you insisted on a human one?”

She knows that one, because she’s been thinking about it. Well, at least she was before everything went to shit. She wanted to give Kara a Kryptonian ceremony. She had wanted to show her that Lena would be honored to share everything Kara’s world had to offer.

“Are we-” she hesitated, “Are we happy, Kara?”

She wasted no time in answering, “The happiest. You make me the happiest soul alive in this universe and in any universe.”

Fresh tears fall down the side of her face and Kara wipes them away before speaking, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Well, I guess it’s only fair.” Lena sniffles and prepares her mind for what she knows will be an emotionally-charged exchange not that this has been an easy conversation thus far.

“Out there, are you happy?”

Lena’s air is stolen from her. Well, she doesn’t know how to answer that one. 

“Sometimes,” she whispers. She’s not happy most of the time but sometimes she is.

Sometimes, Ruby calls her to tell her about a science project or sometimes Nia sends her meme even though she hasn’t been to Game Nights for almost a year now, sometimes Brainy takes her out for a drink and she feels like she’s got a little brother to call her own. 

So yeah, sometimes. Because the thought of perpetual happiness without Kara in her life is impossible. 

“Only sometimes?” Kara asks, brow furrowing.

“Yeah, only sometimes. Not like it matters, anyway.”

“Well, of course it matters! Your happiness matters!” Kara exclaims, old habits die hard what can she say?

But then Kara takes a turn from defensive to curious again, “Am I happy? Out there? I mean?” 

“I- I have no idea.”

Lena waits for the answer to sink in to Kara. 

“What? What do you mean you have no idea?”

“Remember when I said I hurt you?” 

Kara gives her a nod.

“Well, I haven’t seen you for a long time. I’ve been avoiding you. Normally people tend to not seek out their exes, you know.” 

She’s trying to keep it lighthearted. She’s trying not to let this Kara see how much she craves her presence, how much she wishes she could see Kara again. Don’t get her wrong, Supergirl is plastered every minute on the news, but- 

That’s not who she wants to see. 

“She’s miserable,” Kara answers point-blank leaving no room for argument, “If you’ve been avoiding me, I’d be miserable.”

That has Lena speechless. 

Because miserable would be an understatement of how things had been ever since they ended things. 

Ever since Lena ended things. 

“I don’t like not being with you, you know?” Kara states as if Lena doesn’t feel the same.

“I- I don’t like that either.”

“I know.”

She has to go. Lena knows she has to go but Kara is looking at her so sincerely and she can feel the love and she knows this is nothing but an intricate trap formed by an alien parasite slowly killing her. She has to go but-

“Lena!” 

The both of them are startled and four eyes immediately land to-

Kara?! No, not Kara. Supergirl.

“Supergirl,” She says; surprise coloring her voice. She didn’t know Supergirl would go in and save her. Hell, she didn’t even know how she found her. But then again, she’s tried solving the puzzle that is Kara Zor-El but had never been able to piece it together. 

Supergirl takes a look at her doppelganger in bed with Lena; a scene so familiar to her. A scene she’s replayed again and again in her head. A scene that was once their reality then a memory and now an illusion. She takes a step closer.

“Lena, we have to go, please. Please believe me, this isnt-” 

“-real,” Lena finishes for her and Supegirl looks stunned, “I know, Supergirl. I know how to reject my own fantasy. I’ve had plenty of practice, after all.”

She aims for sarcasm, because fucking fucking hell, how the fuck does anybody expect her to function if there were two Kara’s in front of her?

That was asking for too much. 

Beside her, Kara had gone silent. It seems like she knows what comes next. She knows what Supergirl intends to do. They’re the same person after all. 

“It’s okay,” Lena hears Kara say and she breaks away from the hero’s gaze to find Kara looking at her with those eyes again.

“It’s okay, Lena,” She repeats, “It’s okay, Supergirl’s here. You’re gonna be safe. Stay safe for me, yeah?”

“Lena we have to go. Now,” Supergirl commands from the other side of the room. 

“Okay, yeah,” She whispers then she turns to Supergirl, “Just give me a chance to say goodbye, please?”

Supergirl stares at her for a moment then at Kara then she gives them both a nod and turns back to give them privacy.

“Last question?”

“Hit me.”

“What’s your surname?”

“Luthor.”

Fuck. She shouldn’t feel this surprised but damn, hearing Kara confirm it? Lena doesn’t know how to feel about that. She doesn’t know how to feel about all of this. 

“Just like you promised.”

“Just like I promised.” 

The words are echoed back to her and Lena hates the way she’s noticed how stiff Supergirl’s posture had become in her periphery. Ignores the fact that Supergirl has superhearing. 

“Thank you for indulging me, Kara.”

“Always.”

Goodbye, darling.”

And then everything fades to black.

author’s note: hiya lovely people send me an ask if i should write a follow-up for this.

[little-diable]

Potter - Draco Malfoy (angst/smut)

Request by anon: Hello. I love your imagines! Can I request a Draco smut? The reader and him are in a secret romance due to her being Harry's sister. She is Harry's stolen object in the second task, but she doesn't know how to swim. Draco saves her and has soft smut in the Prefect bathroom with multiple "I love you"s.

Hope this is what you had in mind. Enjoy my loves. xxx

“Sh, don’t want anybody to hear us, do we?” His lips nibbled on her neck, hands massaging her skin, leaving a few hidden marks, something he’ll be able to admire later on. His scent filled her nostrils, the faint green apple aroma made a homey feeling overcome her, trying to pull her love even closer. 

“My gorgeous love,“ Draco breathed out, smiling at her, those bright eyes twinkling in the darkness of the storage room, he loved to feel her close, pressed against his chest, shuttered breaths leaving her swollen lips, begging for more. 

“We need to leave,“ (y/n) mumbled, she couldn’t miss her brothers first task, still shaken up from the way he had whispered “dragons” just last night. Her first instinct had been to tell him to quit, she couldn’t endure watching him struggle against something that deadly, but soon enough the (y/h/c) haired Potter girl realized, she couldn’t do anything, besides cheering for her brother, supporting him no matter what. 

“Fucking Potter,“ Draco muttered under his breath, groaning as his girlfriend slapped her hand against his abdomen.

„Don‘t Draco, he’s my bother,“ (y/n) reminded him once again, as if he wasn’t struggling with the sober truth every single day.

Draco and (y/n) had crossed paths years ago, eyes gazing at each other as the hat sorted them into their houses. A Malfoy would naturally be placed into Slytherin, just like (y/n) followed her brother into Gryffindor. Draco could still feel the uneasy feeling rising in his stomach as the hat called “Gryffindor”, he had deeply wished for her to follow him into Slytherin. 

It had taken (y/n) and Draco a few years to finally find each other, coming clean with their emotions, hiding their relationship from curious eyes, especially the ones of Dracos so called enemy, Harry Potter, (y/n)s brother. 

“He’ll be fine, don’t worry.“Draco kissed her forehead, running a hand through his bright blonde hair, trying to lace his voice with any sympathy, struggling to do so. “I’ll find you later on,“ and off he went, blending in with the rest of the students, cheering for anybody who didn’t carry the name Potter. 

His bright eyes would unintentionally find her (y/e/c) ones from time to time, checking to see, if she was alright, his heart was clenching at the sight, she was trembling, hands interlaced with Hermoines. Draco wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her, his mind was coming up with all the supportive things he’d whisper into her ear. 

He caught himself admiring her features more than once, proud that he was the one, that got to call her his girlfriend, he’d do anything to show her off to all those students, if his bloodline and her brother wouldn’t stand in their way. 

Even Draco felt scared, just for a second though, but his emotions were pure, watching Harry disappear, chased by the dragon, praying that he’d make it. Harry couldn’t leave (y/n) behind, he was the only true family member she had left, not as if she’d ever call her uncle and her aunt her family. 

“God, Harry,“ she fell into her brothers arms, a relieved sob left her lips, (y/n) inhaled his scent, the all too familiar calming sensation overcame her, made her sink into her brothers embrace even further. “I’m alright, don’t worry,“ he kissed her hairline, hands tightly squeezing her before he let go of her, ready to celebrate his victory. 

Harry and Draco would cross paths once that evening, Harrys eyebrows would furrow together as he caught the blonde Slytherin staring at his sister, the almost lovingly seeming smile he shot her made Harry frown. 

“(Y/n), love, look at me,“ Draco had her pressed against the cold wall, hands wrapped around her trembling frame. „He won’t leave you, Harry will survive this tournament.“

An exhausted expression grazed Dracos features, both, (y/n) and Draco hadn’t caught much sleep these past few days, she’d seek him out whenever another nightmare would haunt her, not able to keep on sleeping without him near. 

“Sorry,“ (y/n) hiccuped, fingers grasping the fabric of his sweater, too scared to let go of him. She admired him, truly did, thankful for muttering those sweet words to her, obviously trying to swallow down his hatred for her brother. “Don’t be,“ he kissed her forehead, dipping his head down to pull her into him. 

“I love you,“ she mumbled against his lips, kissing him one last time before she disappeared into the darkness, creeping down the hallways, finding her way back to her dorm, praying for at least a few hours of sleep. 

But as (y/n) had been woken up from her sleep early in the morning, she cursed herself for ever leaving the comfortableness of her bed, desperate to find her love, not able to calm the raging storm inside her mind herself. Hermoine and Ron had dragged her to where they’d meet with Dumbledore, getting initiated into the next task. 

An uneasy feeling settled inside her bones, (y/n) had never liked the water, never felt calm in the crashing waves of the ocean, so she refused to learn how to swim, she wouldn’t need to swim anyways, well, how wrong she had been. 

Neither the teachers nor Ron and Hermoine spared her protests any mind, trying to bribe her into it, telling her how much she’d help her brother with it, since everybody knew, that (y/n) would give her all for Harry, even her last breath. 

“No, absolutely not,“Draco muttered, arms crossed in front of his chest, staring down on his girlfriend. „I don’t have any other choice,“ she sounded just as unconvinced, her mind was racing, anxiety nestled in her, god, she prayed that Harry would be able to rescue her. 

“I’ll only give him a few minutes, otherwise I’ll step in,“ Draco left without kissing her goodbye, too enraged to even think straight, not noticing her sad eyes on him, aching for his touch. “I love you,“ she whispered into the hallway, eyes set on the spot where Draco had just been standing on a few moments ago. 

With trembling legs she stood in front of the old wizard, hopeful eyes were gazing at her. “It will be alright Miss Potter, don’t worry,“ he winked at her. She shot her friends one last glance before she got put into her trance, disappearing down the lake, darkness engulfed her, lulled her in. 

Dracos hard eyes were focused on the lake, he kept on tapping his foot, counting the minutes, cold sweat was breaking out on his back, he felt scared, truly scared, for the first time in his life. “What’s going on with you Malfoy?” Goyle chuckled, teasing his distressed friend. 

The prince of Slytherin pushed him out of the way as Harry broke through the lakes surface, (y/n) nowhere to be seen. “Where is she?” Draco spat, eyes finding Harrys shivering frame. „I don’t know,“ Harry stuttered, he hadn’t noticed the way she had struggled underwater, hadn’t noticed her letting go of his hand. Only now he seemed to realize, that his sister was actually not by his side. 

Blood was rushing in Dracos ears, too many thoughts and emotions crashed upon him, his limbs began to tremble, scared of losing his one true love. Curious eyes watched him pull off his coat and shoes, drowning out the cheering for the other contestants.

“Fucking Potter,“ Draco spat, diving headfirst into the black waters, he’d rescue her, no matter what. His heart was pounding against his ribcage, Draco tried to calm himself down, knowing that it would take him a while to find his girlfriend. Glad for all those hours his parents made him take swimming lessons, diving for hours on end, looking for random objects underwater. 

His bright eyes found her unresponsive figure on the lakes ground, tears were welling up in his eyes, blurring his already limited vision. Draco wrapped his arms around her frame, with his last breath he pulled themselves up the water, gasping as he broke through the lakes surface. “Don’t touch her,“ he growled at Harry, placing (y/n) down on the wooden stand, desperately trying catch her (y/e/c) eyes staring at him. 

Draco shook her a few times, cradling her cold frame in his arms, a relived sigh made it past his lips as she began to cough up the water in her lungs. “Finally,” he breathed into her ear, wrapping his coat around her shivering limbs. He didn’t let Harry near him, silencing him with a simple “not now Potter” every time he tried to apologize to his sister. 

“Come on, let’s take a bath my love,“ Draco was still carrying her, glad to finally be back at the castle, walking up to the perfect’s bathroom, knowing that they’d find some peace up there. “Let me help you,“ he slowly unbuttoned her blouse, eyes focused on hers, drops of water were dripping down from her tips, her lips were slightly blue, (y/n) wouldn’t let go of his hands. 

Draco had to bite down the “I told you so”, that was about to spill from his lips, but her dilated pupils were enough to shut him up, enough to pull her against his chest, kissing her forehead over and over again. 

She was placed on his lap, front pushed against his, hands tangled in his hair, the warm water engulfed them, calmed their shivering limbs. “I’m sorry for scaring you like that,“ (y/m) mumbled against his neck, her heart felt heavy, she didn’t care about almost drowning, didn’t care that Harry forgot about her, only cared about the way Draco felt, the anxious feelings, that ran through his veins. 

“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault my love,“ Draco grasped her neck, pulled her in for a kiss. „I’ve never been that scared. It made me realize, that I can’t be myself without you by my side, you’re my everything and I truly love you.” Draco confessed, chuckling at the smile, that tugged on her lips. 

“I love you too,“ she whispered, pushing her lips against his, dipping her tongue into his mouth, deepening the sensual gesture. Both were in their own little bubble of calmness, relishing in being that close to one another, set on making them feel as loved and appreciated as possible. 

Dracos hands found her wetness, he growled into her mouth, fingers dipping into her heat, spreading her open. “So pretty,“ (y/n) gasped at his praising, nails clawing into his shoulders. „Make love to me Draco,“ she moaned, desperate to wrap her walls around him. 

She sunk down on his hard length, he filled her in every right way, deliciously stretching her. “Draco,“ (y/n) cried out his name, his hands placed on her behind, stabilizing her movement. (Y/n) kept on gridding her core against his length, slowly bouncing on his member, engulfed by the hot water. 

Their pent up anxiety, frustration and love began to spill out of them, pushing them closer to the edge faster than ever. “I love you,“ both moaned at the same time, chuckling as their lips found one another. 

Draco thrusted his hips upwards, meeting her wetness, burying himself even deeper, stretching her even further, making her fall right into the crashing wave of her orgasm. “Fuck so good,“ Draco moaned, releasing himself into her heat, forehead pressed against hers, hands not letting go of her skin.

“I love you,“ Draco repeated, (y/n) ran her hands through his hair. „I love you too Draco Malfoy.“

[geminiwritten]

heatwave ; bucky barnes

fandom: marvel

pairing: bucky x reader

summary: you’re not a huge fan of the hot weather until a certain super soldier finally gets his arse out of bed and gives you a reason to love it

notes: i wrote this over quite a few days so i’m really sorry if its disjointed, and i’m so sorry if its repetitive of my last piece! i’m still trying to get through a bit of writer’s block, so i hope y’all enjoy!

word count: 3359

The heat seemed to wash over you in waves. Pulses of warmth rolling through your body and stealing your breath. Every inch of your skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat, drawing all the hydration from your body and draining any energy you might have possessed if it wasn’t for the heatwave currently sweeping through New York City.

“Ugh,” you groaned, your head lulling to the side where Natasha laid, “I think I’m dying.”

She let out a breathy laugh, “You’re not dying.”

“I might be.”

“Oh, come on you two,” Sam hollered from the pool a little way across the balcony, “have some fun for once in your lives!”

Natasha propped herself up on her elbows and squinted over the top of her sunglasses, “With you idiots? No thanks.”

“Why are you always such a killjoy, Romanoff?”

“Why are you always such a pain in the ass, Wilson?” you called back, mimicking Natasha on your elbows.

He scoffed, “That’s rich coming from the whiniest member of the team.”

Your frown deepened, this time out of anger and not because of the bright glare from the sun.

“Watch it, Wilson,” a voice called out from behind you, “or she’ll come over there and kick your ass.”

Both you and Natasha whipped around to find Bucky. He had probably only just woken, his mop of hair tied up into a loose bun with escaped tendrils sticking to the hot skin of his neck and forehead. This time, it wasn’t the heat that knocked the air from your lungs.

“Nice to see you’re alive, Buck,” Steve chuckled as he waded through the pool toward where Sam was leaning against the edge.

Bucky rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to say something smart but having his breath stolen as he stepped out of the shade and into the sun. “Holy shit,” he gasped, “it’s hot.”

“Sharp observation skills, Einstein,” Natasha quipped.

“At least Barnes will get in the pool unlike you two party poopers,” Sam said, before copping a volleyball to the back of the head thanks to Bruce’s poor aim.

He spun around quickly, ball in hand and ready to hurl it back at his attacker.

“Well then,” Bucky sighed, now standing beside you, “I guess it’s time for a swim.”

He looked down at you sprawled across your towel, one arm draped over your eyes to shield from the sun and the other resting on your bare stomach. You suddenly felt exposed, nervous under the gaze of his pale blue eyes.

“Want to join me?”

Your pulse thudded in your ears, and you wanted nothing more than to get in the water with him, but the sound of shouts and spraying water reminded you of the rest of the team.

“I’m sorry, Buck, I’ll have to pass,” you replied.

He pushed his bottom lip forward, “It’s your loss, doll, this heat is a killer.”

Your limbs turned to jelly at the sound of that pet name rolling off his tongue.

“Ugh,” Natasha scoffed beside you, “you two are sickening.”

You wanted to turn around and bite back at her, but what happened next had you paralysed. Every nerve in your body ignited, goosebumps rising across every inch of your skin in spite of the steamy weather. Bucky’s fingers curled under the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head to reveal his sculpted body beneath. His abs rolled and tensed as he rid himself of the material and discarded it on the ground, making your mouth water and your head spin with a thousand different unholy thoughts.

A shriek from the red headed woman beside you broke you out of your trance, and only then did you notice the spray of pool water that had washed over you and most of the balcony.

“You’re an arse, Barnes!” Natasha yelled, standing and angrily snatching up her towel.

You pushed your sunglasses further up your nose as you let your gaze settle on the giggling men in the pool. Bucky’s now wet, broad shoulders glistened under the sunlight, his alabaster skin taught across the landscape of muscle.

“Do you want some lunch or are you just going to keep staring like a creep?” Natasha asked as she stood over you.

Your gaze hardly wavered, “I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure?” she pressed, her lips curling into a smirk, “because I think you’ve got a little bit of drool on your chin there.”

If Bucky wasn’t pulling himself out of the water right at the moment, you might have turned around to poke your tongue at her, but instead you opted for flipping her the bird while your eyes remained trained on the pool area.

The rest of the steamy day went by far too quickly. Despite your hate for the heat, you stayed out on the balcony until the sun began to set. Only when Bucky and Sam wrapped themselves in towels and declared that it was time for dinner did you finally put your book away, not that you had managed to read even a single page of it.

“Is it supposed to be this hot again tomorrow?” Sam asked as the three of you stepped inside.

“Yeah,” you replied, “and the day after.”

“I bet you’re happy about that,” he chuckled, watching disappointment sweep across your face as Bucky pulled his shirt over his head

“Shut up.”

He chuckled at your feeble attempt to jab his side, easily evading your attack.

“Alright, children,” Tony called from the kitchen, “dinner’s ready.”

Like moths to a flame, the rest of the team gathered around the kitchen bench where Natasha and Tony had laid out the pre-cut ingredients for everyone to make their own burgers.

“I’m going to have a shower before eating,” Bucky said, to no one in particular as he draped his damp towel over his forearm.

“Do you need any help?” Sam asked, his grin evil, “Because I’m sure Y/N would love-”

“Sam!” you snapped.

Thankfully, Bucky remained oblivious, his brows knit into an adorable frown.

“Never mind, Buck,” you said, “I’ll make sure they save you some food.”

His face broke into that familiar smile that melted your heart, “Thanks, doll.”

Once again, your legs wobbled like jelly and you had to steady yourself on the back of the lounge.

“Ugh,” Sam groaned, “I can’t wait until they day you two finally fu-”

“Language,” Steve interrupted with a disapproving glare at Sam.

You poked your tongue out before turning toward the array of burger ingredients, your empty stomach rumbling at the sight.

The next day rolled around just as the weather forecast had predicted. The air was thick with humidity and the sun blared down just as it had yesterday. Once again you found yourself on a towel beside the pool, half of the team splashing around while the other half laid languidly in the shade.

“Still not getting in today?” Steve asked as he approached the bar fridge near where you had placed your towel.

You shook your head, “I’d rather not get caught in the crossfire of an overly aggressive game of chicken.”

“I mean, you could play the game with us, maybe even get to climb onto Bucky’s shoulders.”

You whipped around, your glare lethal, “What the fuck, Rogers?”

He chuckled, “Sorry, Sam told me to.”

“You are the last person I would expect to stoop to his level,” you said, crossing your arms indignantly.

He shrugged, “Well, no one has told Buck, if that makes up for anything.”

“I’m guessing everyone else knows, though.”

He didn’t respond, only smiled sheepishly.

“Ugh,” you sighed.

“In my own defence, Natasha told me about your crush months ago and I haven’t let it slip once. It’s been-”

“Sam,” you interrupted him, “I know.”

He took a generous sip of water before crouching beside you, “For what it’s worth, I think you should tell him how you feel.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed.

Steve knew he couldn’t say anymore. He knew nothing he said would convince you to tell Bucky how you felt, and he knew he couldn’t betray his best friend’s trust by divulging the fact that Bucky really had confessed his feelings for you before. He decided to let you be, gathering three more bottles of water before heading back to the pool.

The day passed almost identically to the one before it, and so did the next. It wasn’t until two o’clock in the morning on the third night of the heatwave that you felt a sudden change. You awoke abruptly, a shiver running down your spine as cool air blew through the open window and brushed across your bare skin. You frowned at the night sky before tiredly pulling your duvet up to your chin and falling back asleep.

By morning, the heat was well and truly gone. Clouds blanketed New York City, threatening to rain as they rolled angrily across the grey sky.

“I guess it’s back to work today, Avengers,” Tony said from behind his tablet.

Almost everyone was awake, crowded around the kitchen bench awaiting Clint’s famous French toast.

“What work?” Peter asked.

“Homework for you, kid,” Steve replied, earning an indignant frown from Peter.

You couldn’t help but giggle into your mug of coffee, before almost spraying it back out at the sight that then exited the elevator.

Bucky. Shirtless. Again.

You began to wonder what you had done to be so lucky, your heart thrumming against your rib cage so hard you worried that someone might hear it.

“Oh, my, Barnes,” Tony gasped, “you know it’s still in the A.M., right?”

Bucky simply rolled his tired eyes before slumping onto the lounge, mumbling, “Hungry.”

It wasn’t long before Clint served breakfast, everyone scoffing their food as if they hadn’t eaten in days, and soon after that, Peter dismissed himself for school and Tony and Bruce made their way to the lab.

“I think I need to get back into the gym today,” Clint sighed, stretching his arms above his head.

You sighed, “Same.”

“Bucky and I were planning on heading down there in the afternoon actually, we could do a group training session,” Steve said as he filled the sink, ready to wash everyone’s dishes.

“I’m in,” Natasha replied, “I was going to head into town for some groceries this morning, so the afternoon is better for me.”

“Yeah, alright,” Clint added, “Count me in.”

“Me too,” Sam said through his last mouthful of toast, “and obviously Y/N will be there too.”

You turned to him quickly, a frown already etched between your brows, “What the hell does that mean?”

He chuckled, “Steve said that he and Bucky were planning it, so obviously you-”

You elbowed him sharply in the gut before standing from your seat at the dining table and stomping over to the kitchen.

Natasha sighed, “You better be careful, Wilson, you’re playing with fire.”

“But it’s so obvious that they both like each other, why can’t they just fuck already.”

Steve’s ears turned red and Natasha laughed, but neither of them seemed to notice as Bucky finally made his way over from the living area.

“Who needs to fuck already?” he asked, brows knit.

“No one,” Steve answered quickly, “Tony wants help moving a new delivery, I said we’d help him out. Come on.”

He ushered the confused Bucky out of the room, but not before shooting daggers at Sam.

After breakfast you decided to go with Natasha into town. The compound was running low on a few things that Tony always forgot to add to the weekly grocery delivery, so you took your time shopping and chatting. It was nice to simply enjoy the feeling of not having sweat drip from every inch of your skin, though you couldn’t help mourning the sticky weather that would encourage Bucky to constantly walk around shirtless.

It was almost four o’clock when you finally changed into your workout gear and headed for the gym. Most of the team were already in there, and those that weren’t had kindly declined the offer of a group training session.

Steve, Sam, Tony, and Bucky were gathered around the sparring mats each taking turns at attacking the training dummy, while Clint was over by the weights alone. You quickly found Wanda and Natasha on the treadmills and decided to start there.

“Afternoon,” Wanda greeted you, her smile sweet as she swiped the sweat from her brow.

You grinned back, “Fancy seeing you out of your room.”

“I don’t do heat,” she said, “but Nat has just been telling me about how much you’ve been enjoying it.”

You tossed your gym towel at her, gasping, “Oh, shut up!”

The two red heads giggled, thankfully too amused to notice the way your eyes drifted across the gym to where Bucky was training.

After almost an hour on the treadmill, chatting idly about nothing in particular with Nat and Wanda, Steve called the team to attention. Everyone moved in from around the gym, forming a misshapen circle around the sparring mats that he and Clint had just hauled from the storage room.

“It’s a bit stuffy in here,” Sam said as he plopped down on the floor and began stretching his legs out in front of him, “is the air on, Tony?”

Tony, who was chugging half a bottle of water, simply shrugged and waved haphazardly at the control panel by the main entry doors.

“I’ll check it,” you offered before turning on your heel.

You tapped the screen and it came to life, but the display wasn’t the same as the one in your room. It had more options and dials for more variables than just the temperature, but on the top right of the screen was a little green button that you assumed meant it was on. You chose the dial that looked like it controlled the fan speed and turned it all the way up.

“All good, Y/N?” Steve called.

You nodded before hurrying back to the group, bending your right leg up to your buttocks in a quick stretch. Steve and Nat then took their positions in the middle of the circle and began demonstrating the fight sequences that they wanted the team to practice.

“Now partner up, pick a mat, and practice until you can do it as fast as you can,” Steve said, before looking directly at Sam, “without hurting each other.”

Sam sighed with exasperation as he turned to his partner, Bucky. You turned to Wanda while Nat joined Clint on a mat and Tony stepped up to where Steve was. Each pair started slowly mimicking the moves that had just been demonstrated.

“It is hot in here,” Wanda said, her breath heavy as she ducked your fist.

You simply nodded, too focused on your movements to be able to speak.

Grunts, huffs, and the thud of heavy feet on the vinyl mats echoed throughout the gym for fifteen minutes before Steve called a break. You practically dove for your water bottle, only to choke on the first mouthful of water when Bucky yanked his sweat-soaked shirt over his head. Wanda caught your eye, giggling as you spluttered.

“I thought the heatwave was over,” Clint said.

Tony nodded, “It is, I think the air-con is playing up.”

“It’s broken?” Wanda gasped.

He shrugged, opening his mouth to respond but stopping when Steve spoke first, “Alright, enough chatting, let’s get back into it.”

Over the next thirty minutes, Wanda’s fist made contact with your shoulder, your abdomen, and almost your jaw if she hadn’t quickly noticed that you were too distracted to block her swing. Her foot then collided with your hip twice before she finally gave in on trying to get your attention.

Your eyes were glossed over and glued to the super soldier duelling Sam. His exposed skin glistened with sweat, muscles rippling under taught, alabaster skin. His stare was hard, eyes almost grey as they narrowed on every move that Sam made. Your palms began to sweat, knees wobbling as you watched his tongue swipe quickly across his pink lips.

“Y/N!” Wanda snapped, her fingers gripping your chin and forcing you to face her, “focus.”

“Shit, sorry,” you muttered.

You raised your shaky hands, trying to block out the shirtless man still in your peripheral vision.

By the time Steve called the training session to an end, the air was almost as dense as the storm clouds outside. Everyone was soaked in their own sweat, hair clinging to sticky skin and muscles beneath burning from use.

“I swear to God, Tony,” Wanda said as she draped her towel over her shoulder, “if the air-con is broken, I’m not going to let you sleep until it’s fixed.”

He chuckled, fingers already moving swiftly across the tablet in his lap, “It’s not broken.”

“Then what the fuck is this?” Sam exclaimed, arms gesturing wildly toward the gym’s huge windows that were completely veiled in condensation.

Tony nodded toward you, “Y/N turned the temperature up instead of down.”

Heat blossomed in your chest, crawling up your neck and to the tips of your ears. Every pair of eyes landed on you, a mixture of irritation and amusement etched across the faces of your teammates.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, “I got confused.”

Most of the group simply chuckled or shrugged, collecting their things and heading for the door, but Sam took his time. The devilish smirk adorning his lips made your pulse begin to race.

“Far out, Y/N,” he said, “you didn’t have to torture all of us just to get Barnes to take his clothes off.”

Your eyes went wide, brows shooting up toward your hairline as every coherent thought left your head. Your heart pounded deafeningly in your ears.

The team was suddenly silent, those closest to the door hurrying out and the rest quickly rushing after them. Wanda stuck her elbow into Sam’s side before dragging him out by his shirt collar.

Bucky remained, paralysed feet still glued to the ground as he quickly tried to catch up on what had just happened.

“Sam was just joking,” you finally managed to speak, “he’s an arse.”

Bucky blinked slowly, “Yeah… such an arse.”

You nodded, mouth dry as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat, “Okay, well, I’ve got to-”

“He is an arse,” Bucky interrupted you, blue eyes wide with curiosity, “but he doesn’t usually lie.”

You didn’t know what to say, your nervous fingers tangling behind your back. His stare was heavy, pressing down on your shoulders and holding you still as he slowly stepped closer.

“Do you like me?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course I like you, Buck, you’re-”

“No,” one last step and his breath fanned the exposed skin of your neck, “do you-”

This time, it was your turn to interrupt. Every bit of pent-up tension and suppressed desire propelled you toward him, coming up onto the balls of your feet and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. Your lips crashed into his, so hard you might have worried about bruising them if the thought of a mark left by Bucky wasn’t so thrilling.

He hesitated only for a moment before his hands found your waist, practically lifting you off the ground and squashing your body against his. Your fingers tangled in his hair as his tongue glided across your bottom lip, begging for entry. A low, almost feral growl rumbled up from his chest once you allowed him in, tongues clashing.

You only parted when breath became absolutely necessary, your lungs burning for air. He let you back onto your own feet, though his strong arms stayed wound around your waist.

“Um, yeah,” you said between gulps of air, “I really like you, Buck.”

He chuckled, “Well, that’s a relief because I really like you too.”

He pressed his lips to yours once more before pulling away completely and wrapping his gym towel around his shoulders.

“I need a shower,” he said, taking your hand in his and tugging you toward the door, “and it’s your turn to take your clothes off now.”

END.

[dinner-djarin]

dar'manda (Mando x f!reader insert)

Prologue

(Inspired by this scene)

Summary: You've been working as a merchant on Nevarro for years now, only out of necessity. Life really wasn't going your way. At least until the Mandalorian came by your booth. Now he's all you think about, and soon he'll be even more.

Warnings: Probably some swearing (real and in universe), violence (eventually), smut (eventually), No use of Y/N, slowburn/fluff (for the first little while)

Notes: Takes place at the end of season 1, and will mostly take place between season one and two. I have been sitting on this for a while due to some fear about reception by the fandom, but honestly I just need to stop thinking about it so here we go. She's going out into the world, and I hope you enjoy. (Also I wrote this prologue like 2 months ago so it isn't quite where I'd like it to be but if you read this please just stick with me, I swear my writing gets better lol)

You don’t know how long it’s been since you last saw him. Weeks? Months? But you can’t get that damn tin can out of your head.

You really have no reason to be this hung up on him. He’s barely spoken to you, you’ve never even seen his face, so it should be easy enough to move on from whatever childish infatuation you have over him. Right? Maker, what kind of person crushes on a mask and a suit of armour?

But there’s something about him, something that keeps him planted in your subconscious. You’ve tried to find the words to explain it, but nothing ever comes close. You can't even begin to understand how this man has completely overtaken your every waking thought.

He used to come by every couple of weeks, and you’d savour every delectable minute of the interaction, but that was all before shit hit the fan of course. You weren't there to see it but when you came back to work the next day it was all anyone could talk about.

“Apparently the metal man broke some Guild rule, and practically all of the other bounty hunters tried to kill him for it.” You heard over your shoulder. As much as you liked to keep to yourself, you couldn’t help form eavesdropping on a conversation between merchants. You did have a guilty pleasure for drama, probably to fill the uneventful void that your mundane life had now become.

“The Mandalorian? He broke their code then!” one exclaimed.

“I heard he went back for a bounty,” someone else whispered.

“What could make someone do something so stupid?” questioned a merchant lady you already didn’t particularly like.

“He doesn’t strike me as stupid,” you interrupt, trying to stick up for the man you were currently enamoured with. “If he did it, there must be a valid reason.”

“If he did it?” She sneered. “Do you not see the damage he left behind? People will be out of business for sure. It’ll take weeks to clean up the mess he made.”

“Then I guess I hope it was worth it. That it wasn't in vain.” You state, putting an end to the conversation. You hoped the man – that you already liked against your better judgement – wouldn’t cause so much harm without some justification.

In the wake of his rebellion, a covert of other masked hunters revealed themselves, shot up the town, and then vanished without a word. And so did your Mandalorian.

Woah hold on. Not yours. Just one random Mandalorian that you’ve said a handful of words to and have harboured a secret crush over.

From the second you saw him you pretty much knew you were screwed. Between the husky modulated voice, and the broad as hell shoulders, there was pretty much no way to quell the instant attraction that rose up in you. His presence alone was suffocating. Nothing could stop the way your vocal cords tightened to the point of forcing out a soft squeal at his sight. The whole time he talked to you, you could feel his visor latch onto your body – pinning you to the spot.

You thought you might find some relief when he left. Quite the opposite. You couldn't help but gawk at the way his body moved, like he knew he was hot shit. He took your damn breath away. And you were glad to know that he couldn't see your lips part to let out a soft moan, or the way they pursed back together as you unconsciously swallowed the suddenly copious amount of saliva pooling in your mouth. Fucking delicious, you thought, shamelessly.

Maybe it was the fact that you knew he could take anyone down in milliseconds. He was untouchable, and this latest defiance proved that. No one crossed the Guild. Well, no one crossed the Guild and got away with it. But if anyone could, it would be Mando.

And there’s another thing. You don’t even know his name. Which means that you’re forced to call him the colloquial slang that is commonly used by outsiders of the Mandalorian culture. “Mando”. You couldn’t help but think about how it almost sounded like an insult, especially when slurred from the mouth of other criminals. You hated the way people spat the word out at him, obviously trying to get him worked up; to see what he was made of. It made you desperately wish that you had a better name to call him, his real name. An intimate piece of knowledge that you could hold on to, something of him that no one else had.

Maybe that made you selfish. Even so, there was so much you wished you knew about him. He was a complete mystery.

To be fair, he probably didn’t even know your own name. You can't recall him asking for it, or if you ever introduced yourself. You were pretty much a bumbling mess the first time you met him. To the point where even if you had tried to say your name it probably would have sounded like you were speaking Huttese. Although, who could blame you. It wasn’t very conventional to introduce yourself to every customer. The people on Nevarro usually kept to themselves, especially the bounty hunters. There wasn’t much room for ‘customer service’. But damn you wish you had tried to make some sort of introduction. Even if it had come out as incoherent nonsense, you think it may have made talking to him later a bit easier.

However, none of that matters if he never comes back, and you bet he won’t. He’s smarter than that. To pull what he did, he’s probably on the other side of the galaxy right now.

Even so, you’ll miss the shared awkward silences and stolen glances that came with each of his visits. Whenever he’d come into the shop, he’d list off what he needed to stock up on, using the most deep and captivating voice you think you’d ever heard. If he hadn’t had that helmet covering his face, you’d swear he stared right into your soul as he did so. It almost made you weak in the knees every damn time. You’d then rummage through each supply crate and gather the best quality of every item, and finally – just to bring your humiliation to an all-time high – you’d give him a discount for absolutely no discernible reason. He took notice of the reduced price the first time and thanked you, only for you to be berated by your boss once he left. Eventually, to your dismay, the niceties came to a halt. Maybe he forgot what full price was, maybe he just couldn’t care less.

Either way, it looks like you’d risked your job for the last time. It’s a shame. For a planet full of bounty hunters and hardened criminals, there’s actually not a lot to entertain you. A shootout here, an escaped bounty there, but nothing that satisfied your desire for an exciting lifestyle.

The closest you got to that would be each time some wide-eyed, eager, wannabe-bounty-hunter strolled through town looking for a chance to weasel their way up the ladder of the Guild. They definitely thought they were more important than they actually were, and they always made a point of showing off for you. Not that you were anything special, just the closest thing with cleavage usually. They’d probably brag about their rank and their kill counts, things you could not care less about. A few of them actually had the balls to ask you out, but it usually only ended in a free meal or drink. To be fair though that was very intentional on your part. It was fun to play the part of a flirtatious girl from the market for a while, and almost exciting to think about how you were completely screwing over those assholes.

Over the time you’ve spent alone in the galaxy you learned exactly how to read those kinds of people. You knew just how far to go, just what to say or do until you got what you needed. As much as you weren’t a fan of physical affection, you often brushed your target's arm or thigh, played with their hair, or if the situation really demanded it – madeout with them behind the cantina. But you always made a point of stopping before things got too far. You may not be a complete saint, but you knew none of the scumbags you met were worth your time.

You wouldn’t have allowed things to go any further. Not with them. Going any further could only be a letdown, and you were fine to take those matters into your own hands…. literally. You may be a complete flirt, but only as a skill to survive in this grimy and dangerous galaxy. You learned early on that being young and female was a vulnerability. That was at least until you discovered how that vulnerability could be shaped into one of your most valuable strengths.

When you think about him though… well something about him made your entire badass facade disappear into thin air. You lost any cool you had the minute he walked past your vendor. Not to mention that there was something else about him that told you he’d see right through it anyway. Maybe it was the visor. Some special setting to read the level of bullshit.

As far as you’ve seen, he doesn’t take anyone’s shit. He definitely isn’t the type to make others feel comfortable in a conversation. He says precisely what he needs to get his point across, nothing more. Never once had you heard him use more than 10 words at a time.

On a few occasions you were lucky enough to end up in the cantina at the same time as him. Whether you were on a break or entertaining some dead-beat for free lunch, you remember how fast your heart would beat when the glint of his helmet met your vision. You wondered if he noticed your presence, or if he even recognized you away from your vendor at the market.

One time you were in the next booth over. Your spine straightened, and your whole body shivered when he slid into his seat and placed himself directly behind you. The proximity was electrifying. It made every neuron in your body fire rapidly and your blood vessels pump impossibly fast. You were probably supposed to be listening to the slimeball buying your drinks drone on about how impressive his last capture was, but the baritone emanating from behind ensnared every ounce of focus you had.

“I’ll take the highest pay” he muttered through the modulator.

“I do have other hunters, Mando. I can’t always guarantee you get the best of the lot.” replied his employer. A smile maintained on his face even when confronting an unforgiving barricade.

“I’m sure you do. But high price means high risk.” Mando responded. His employer’s confused silence forced him to continue. “Those skilled enough to take on the bounties know better than to do so.”

The Guild leaders' laughter bounced off the walls making many patrons turned their heads, while others continued their business, obviously being used to this behaviour.

You were left puzzled in that moment, completely baffled by this interaction. It wasn't until much later that night when it finally clicked. Although you didn’t know exactly how ranking in the Guild worked, you knew Mando was up there. He had the status to strike fear into almost every other bounty hunter he outranked. Mando had staked his claim long ago, and no one in the Guild was stupid enough to try and take a bounty from him. If he wanted something, he was going to get it.

You’d remember that interaction vividly. Not only because of how close you were to the Mandalorian as you overheard it, but also in service as a reminder to you, proving just how dominant he was in this world. He held power over every member of the Guild, including its leader, whether he wanted to admit it or not. You felt idiotic for not instantly understanding the control he wielded wherever he went. Sometimes it's a wonder how completely oblivious you could be.

Although you certainly were not oblivious to the drastic upgrade he got just before leaving. If you thought Mando was intimidating before, his new head to toe silver armour was sure to strike fear into any of his prey. You remember thinking you saw his reflection pass by earlier in the day, but he quickly dissolved into the shadows, as he often found a way of doing. However, later that night when you had just gotten off from work, he strolled back into the cantina for a new batch of bounties and all eyes were drawn to him. Most eyes were filled with jealousy since – as his employer made clear – he completed the job none of them could. They were probably even more enraged by the fact that he wore his reward back into the room, when most of them would have gladly taken that metal to the highest bidder and sold it for a hefty profit. However, you saw him differently than the rest. Your eyes were fixed on him in fear and in wonder. This metal man, already a force of nature, just became that much more impossible to defeat. As if anything could get to him before, it was clear now that no one could reach the Mandalorian.

But again – it doesn't matter. Not a single soul on Canto Bight would bet his shiny ass walks back into this sector. Not unless he has some kinda death wish…

Turns out he has some kinda death wish.

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

Chapter 1 is up now!

More notes: Hello there! I hope you enjoyed this lovely mess. I'm not the most proud of it, but I do want to continue this story (which I know we've all read 100 iterations of by now). Either way, I'm having fun writing it, so I might as well post it!

I'd love a like or comment if you'd be willing to share, I'm very new to writing so I'd enjoy any constructive criticism (especially on the first few parts, I know they need work, but at this point I just want to stop thinking about it and continue on with the story). Also this will be ongoing, so if you wanna keep reading feel free to drop your @ in my inbox or in the comments and I can tag you when I update!

So long for now my fellow helmet whores!

[flourgirl]

Sick of Losing Soulmates

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Months after you and Peter have broken up, you run into each other at Harry’s Christmas party.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Both fluffy and angsty. Mentions of alcohol and sex. A mild amount of curse words.

A/N: I’m ALIVE! I hope you all are having a wonderful holiday season, and Merry Christmas to everybody that celebrates it! I am so happy to be able to share my work with all of you! Enjoy <3

“And maybe we got lost in translation Maybe I asked for too much But maybe this thing was a masterpiece Till you tore it all up” -All Too Well, Taylor Swift

He wasn’t supposed to be here. Harry had promised you that his roommate would be spending the holidays with May back in Queens. But here he was, wearing the sweater that you had given him last year with his arm snaked around another girl’s waist.

“Hey!” Betty grinned, throwing her arms around you. She had a half-empty glass of mulled wine that you could tell was doing a good job of getting her tipsy. “I’ve missed you so much, Y/N. We never see each other anymore.”

She pouted, a pair of reindeer antlers where her signature black headband usually sat. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” you assured her, still staring at Peter effortlessly carrying the conversation with a bunch of people you didn’t recognize. “Uh, who’s the girl with Peter?”

“Gwen Stacy,” she muttered, obviously not a very big fan. You figured it was because there was only room for one preppy blonde girl, and Betty didn’t feel like sharing that position with anybody else. “Don’t worry though! It’s nothing serious. Peter actually hasn’t really dated anybody ever since the two of you…”

Her voice trailed off as you locked eyes with her, silently communicating for her to drop the subject. It was a relief to know that he hadn’t moved on, but the fact that he was wrapped up in a fling with somebody else still made your heart hurt.

“Come on, Y/N. I’m sure MJ and Ned would love to see you! They’re over in the kitchen.” She reached for your hand, dragging you along through Harry’s expertly decorated apartment. 

You dropped the box of cookies that you had baked on the counter before tapping MJ on the shoulder. She was turned away from you, lecturing Ned on why his secondhand Beyblades were not acceptable Christmas presents.

“Who the hell is touching me?” she snapped, turning around with a look on her face that told you she was ready to throw hands. “Holy fuck. Y/N! How long have you been here?”

MJ’s frown faded into a smile as she pulled you into a side-hug, her other hand busy nursing a glass of Harry’s infamously terrible eggnog. “Only a few minutes,” you laughed, your face smushed into her torso. 

“Hi,” Ned piped up, offering a small wave. You could tell he didn’t really know where he stood ever since his best friend basically ripped your heart out and threw it on the floor. Well, it wasn’t actually that dramatic, but he had a flair for exaggerating stories. “Remember me?”

“Of course, stupid,” you grinned, offering a fist bump that he happily accepted. “How could I forget those iconic fits of yours?”

“True,” he said, popping his collar and doing a little twirl that made Betty and MJ roll their eyes. “You look pretty fly too, though.”

“Thanks,” you replied, holding the edge of your dress as you curtsied, something you and Ned had made a habit of doing as the so-called best dressed members of the group.

“You two are just as ridiculous as ever,” Betty mused, happy to see you still fit in just as perfectly as when you were Peter’s girlfriend, even if you weren’t around as much.

The reunion was interrupted by the loud chatter of a certain couple, and your heart sank as you watched a very drunk Peter and Gwen stumble towards the kitchen, a giggling mess. They situated themselves under the archway that separated the two rooms, a piece of mistletoe conveniently hanging above them. 

You could tell that MJ was ready to put a stop to her friend’s embarrassing behavior, and the looks on Ned and Betty’s faces told you that they had no intentions of holding her back. 

“They’re so gross,” MJ complained, setting down her untouched cup before excusing herself to drag Peter out of his drunken makeout session. “I can’t believe he’d do that when you’re right here!”

“Wait, MJ,” you blurted, grabbing onto her wrist to stop her. She turned to face you, her eyebrows furrowed. “It’s okay. I don’t care about it. I’m just going to head to the bathroom, alright? I’ll be right back.”

You did your best to stop yourself from tearing up, although you realized you had made the utter mistake of forgetting that the very arch that Peter and Gwen were sucking each other’s faces under was the only way out of the kitchen.

Not even a few moments of you awkwardly standing next to them, occasionally clearing your throat, made them notice you. Eventually, the discomfort grew too heavy, and you tapped Peter on the shoulder. He finally pulled away from Gwen, her lipstick smudged across his mouth and a dazed look on his face.

Gwen whimpered at the loss of his kiss, obviously annoyed at the random girl that had just interrupted them. As soon as Peter recognized that it was you, he stepped away from her, wiping his mouth and fixing the hair she had been running her hands through, just like you used to.

“Y/N. I didn’t know that you’d be here,” he reasoned, a blush spreading across his face as a sense of regret settled into his stomach. 

“Obviously,” you sighed. This wasn’t the Peter you knew—the sweet, shy one that you had fallen in love with. “You guys are blocking the hallway, by the way.”

“Shit, sorry,” he stammered, stepping aside to allow you to pass in between them. He followed you, leaving Gwen irritated and confused as to who you were. “Y/N. Can we talk later?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Nice sweater, though,” you quipped, not even turning back to meet his gaze before climbing the stairs towards the guest bathroom. Everything felt all too familiar, memories of you and Peter stumbling up the same steps after a date flooding your brain.

The first time Peter had kissed you was after MJ’s birthday party. Neither of you had been drinking, since you hated alcohol and Peter refused to touch any before he turned 21. This meant that you got to spend the whole night laughing at everybody else’s drunken mischief. 

In the middle of his performance of some Nicki Minaj song, Ned managed to spill a whole can of beer on you and Peter, which resulted in many cheers as the two of you ran to his room to grab a change of clothes. Shirts came off, confessions were made, and the party went on without you guys.

You took a deep breath, shutting the bathroom door behind you and sitting on the edge of the bathtub. If you had known Peter would end up being here, you would have never accepted Harry’s invitation. There were so many old wounds being opened up that you had spent months trying to heal, and you weren’t sure some stupid Christmas party was worth it. 

But you didn’t want to leave. It wasn’t fair how much the break up had stolen from you. All of your friends were here and you were tired of shying away from going out with them anymore because you were too scared to see Peter. Too scared that you would never be able to stop being in love with him.

By the time you rejoined the rest of your friends, Harry was announcing that it was time to start the game of White Elephant. You bit the edges of your fingernails as the party guests filed into Harry’s living room, hoping that Peter wouldn’t somehow pick your present.

“What’d you bring?” you asked Betty, squishing in next to her on the couch. 

“Gift card to In-N-Out,” she giggled, satisfied that her present could only be used on the other side of the country. “But Harry’s rich friends might not have any trouble flying their private jets to California, so maybe I’m not as clever as I thought.”

“Heard that,” Harry said, leaning behind you on the edge of the couch. He placed a quick kiss on your cheek, something the two of you had always done as friends but stopped once you started dating Peter. “Hey, Y/N. Glad you could make it.”

“Hey, you,” you replied, smiling back at him, your leg bouncing impatiently. “We doing this thing or what?”

“Yeah, yeah, give me a minute,” he laughed, running out of the room. Moments later, he came back wearing a fake beard and a Santa hat, complete with a miniature sack of toys. 

“Alright, boys and girls. Let’s get this game started! Hopefully you all know the rules, but I’ll repeat them anyway. I draw a name out of the sack, you pick a random present and open it up for everybody to see. The next person that goes can either steal your gift or pick a new one. If your gift gets stolen, you get to do the same. No stealing twice!”

The first couple of people you didn’t really know, and they had all pulled presents that were relatively uninteresting. A scented candle, toilet paper, a pair of socks. Nothing you really considered worth stealing, although Ned ended up taking a framed, autographed photo of Harry from MJ, which resulted in her stealing Gwen’s mini waffle iron.

By the time it was your turn, there weren’t many gifts left. Going with your gut, you grabbed the bag covered in glittering polar bears. Reaching past all of the tissue paper stuffed inside, you pulled out a red sweatshirt that you unfolded to see had a large graphic of Spider-Man printed on it. 

“Oh,” you said, a little confused. The only people you knew that wore stuff with the Avengers on it were little kids, but you figured that was part of the joke. “I mean, I prefer Captain America, but thanks, whoever this is from!”

Peter’s face blushed to a shade of red, amazed that out of all the presents, you picked his. The only issue was that you didn’t know that he was actually the guy on the front of it. Nobody except Ned knew, although he was sure that MJ and Harry had caught on to his secret identity by now.

“Okay, two people left. Jake, you’re up next, buddy,” Harry called out, happily bouncing around the room, his Santa hat now replaced with a baseball cap that had “I Love Ned!” embroidered on it. You watched nervously as he walked around the room, eyeing up all of the presents before settling on the tiny, golden box that you had placed under the tree when you first arrived.

“Let’s see what we’re working with,” he smirked. Your thoughts raced, immediately feeling a sense of regret over the gift you had picked. “Oh, shit. Sweet! I’ve got a date with Y/N!”

“Sup, baby,” Jake continued, his words slightly slurred. He pointed at you and winked, and you offered him a polite smile in return. “We’re gonna have a good time. Just name the time and place and I got you.”

“Awesome, congrats, man,” Harry said, obviously ready for the game to be over. It had been going for way longer than any of you had expected, mostly due to the fact that two girls wouldn’t stop arguing over a piece of rose quartz. “Okay, we’re nearly finished, guys. Peter, you’re up. Pick any of the gifts that haven’t been stolen yet, or the last one under the tree.”

You locked eyes with him, a familiar scowl on his face that told you he was thinking really hard about which gift to pick. His spidey-senses felt your heartbeat pick up as he walked around the room before stopping in front of Jake, who was busy gloating to his friend about how “hot” you were. Your face heated up as you watched Peter take the little note that you had written out of Jake’s hands, smugly gesturing for him to pick up the present under the tree.

He waved sheepishly at you, and you felt both relieved and angry at his decision. Did you want to go on that date with Jake? No. Were you still mad that, technically, you now had to go out with your ex-boyfriend? Yes.

The game ended and the party-goers dispersed throughout the apartment. You lingered in your spot on the couch, your arms crossed and heart full of mixed emotions. Peter, whose gaze never strayed from you, walked over to where you were sitting.

“We don’t actually have to go out,” he whispered, hoping that you’d actually look at him this time. “I just didn’t think you wanted to go out with that guy. He seemed like kind of an asshole.”

“Yeah, well, it would have been nice if you let me decide that. You’re not my boyfriend, anymore Peter. We aren’t even friends. You don’t get a say in who I go out on dates with,” you grumbled, your eyes focusing on everything in the room except for him.

Before you could say anything else, Peter had already grabbed you by the hand, dragging you away from the rest of the party. Strangely enough, you went along with it, a little curious to hear him out.

You started to remember your first date, and it was almost like you could hear his excited laughter after you finally managed to knock a pin down. It became a tradition that whenever you had something to celebrate, Peter would pick you up and twirl you around until you had to beg him to stop.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Peter slamming the door behind him and cornering you against it, his heartbeat racing. He had pulled you into the laundry room. “I can’t stand seeing you with anybody else,” he panted, eyes flickering down towards your mouth.

His hand pushed a piece of your hair behind your ear, and your breath hitched as you felt his rough fingertips against your skin. But before he could lean in to kiss you, you were ducking underneath his arm and backing away.

“Peter, we really shouldn’t,” you whispered, watching the disappointment wash over his face. No matter how much you wanted to kiss him, you just couldn't forget how he had broken your heart months ago. “It’s over, okay?”

“Y/N, please. I—”

“You what? You love me? Because last time we were together, I told you how much I loved you and you said that we should break up. Remember?” you cried, embarrassed at how you couldn’t control your emotions anymore. “You’re just… you’re too late.”

You fumbled with the door, slipping through the opening before rushing towards the balcony. As soon as the cold air hit you, a wave of relief washed over your body, and you laid your head against the metal railing. Your breathing slowed and time seemed to stand still as you watched the snowflakes flutter through the wind.

“Peter’s an idiot,” you heard a voice call out from behind you. You turned to see Harry holding an extra coat in his arms, and you started to wonder just how long you had been standing out there. He draped it over your shoulders before leaning next to you against the balcony’s edge.

“Huh?” you asked, wondering if he knew what had just happened. You looked at him, the multicolored Christmas lights reflecting off his shiny hair. “What do you mean?”

“He’s stupid for ever letting you go,” he remarked. He had a look in his eyes that made you unsure of what he actually meant. “I mean, look at you. You’re so beautiful, and smart, and funny. And if he was dumb enough to throw all of that away, then yeah, Peter’s an idiot.”

“Oh, thanks, I guess,” you shrugged, your voice faint under the music that was still playing inside. You looked at him, his cheeks a rosy hue, which you couldn’t tell was from the cold or whatever he was trying to tell you.

“You know, I used to have the biggest crush on you,” Harry admitted, laughing a little bit at how nervous he was. Everybody knew that he was a player, so being flustered over a girl was uncharted territory for him. “I never told you this, but you were my first kiss.”

“Wait, really?” you asked, a little shocked at his confession. “But I thought you kissed Sarah Emerson on the playground in the fifth grade?”

“Nope. I was just a liar,” he grinned, running a hand through his hair. “It was right before our eighth grade formal, when you asked me to teach you how to kiss because you were scared that Jeremy Pellegrino was going to try and french you.

“Oh! I forgot all about that,” you laughed, suddenly remembering just how long you and Harry had been friends. “Hold on a second... You gave me kissing lessons without knowing how to kiss!?”

“Guilty,” Harry chuckled as you punched him on the arm. “Ow! Damn, Y/N. When did you get so strong?”

“I have a lot of rage,” you mumbled before the two of you burst out into laughter, which slowly faded into a comfortable silence. 

“You don’t feel that way anymore, right?” you wondered out loud. Harry looked at you, smiling softly.

“No, not anymore,” he affirmed, and you let out a sigh of relief. You knew what it felt like to love someone and not be loved back. “I think what really helped me get over it was seeing how happy you and Parker were when you were dating.” 

“He misses you a lot,” Harry continued, his tone more serious than before. “He keeps this scarf that you left behind under his pillow because it still smells like you. I found out because he was having a pretty bad dream one night and I had to try really hard to calm him back down. And we both thought Gwen would help him move on and get his mind off of you, but I think she only made him realize just how much he still loves you—”

“Harry,” you interrupted, cutting his rambles short. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

“Because you and Peter should be together.”

“You think so?” you asked him, pulling the jacket tighter to keep you warm.

“Yeah. We all do.” It took only seconds for Harry to realize his fumble, accidentally admitting that the whole thing had been planned by him and your friends.

“We?” Your frowned, all of the coincidences from tonight suddenly making much more sense. “Wait, did you know that Peter was going to be here tonight all along?”

“Uh… yeah, about that. MJ, Ned, and I have kind of been pulling a Parent Trap on you guys.”

“HARRY!” You glared inside to see them not-so-secretly watching the entire exchange from behind the Christmas tree. Ned did some awkward finger guns, which MJ immediately swatted down. “I am so going to get you guys!”

You marched inside to where your friends were attempting to hide, the rest of the party guests too drunk and oblivious to notice what was happening. 

“The eagle has left the nest. I repeat, The eagle has left the nest!” Ned yelled, ducking behind MJ, who was already shielding herself with a throw pillow.

“What’s going on?” Betty whined, half-asleep on the couch. “Is this that stupid plan about Peter and Y/N?”

“It’s not stupid!” Harry grumbled, his voice cracking a little bit. You could hear MJ snorting about it from her hiding spot. “Whatever, Michelle.”

“Shut up!” she shouted back.

“No, you!” he said, crossing his arms and standing his ground.

“Make me,” MJ said, narrowing her eyes and shooting daggers at him.

“Uh, guys. This isn’t about you two,” Ned interrupted, snapping them out of their mini argument. There was a weird tension between them that you just knew you would have to address some time in the future.

“Right,” MJ continued, sticking a middle finger up at Harry before turning to you. “Y/N. You should go talk to Peter.”

You nodded, exchanging hopeful looks with each of your friends before walking away. They might be dramatic goofballs, but you loved them so much that you didn’t really care.

Wandering around the party, you spotted Peter trapped in a conversation with Brad Davis, who was explaining his conspiracy theories about the Denver Airport and its demonic horse statue.

“So, all I’m saying is that they’re totally planning the end of the world over there. I mean, the Freemasons built an entire bunker for when they activate the nukes!” he rambled, Peter politely nodding along to his nonsense.

“Hey,” you said, tapping Brad on the shoulder and batting your eyelashes at him. “Can I borrow Peter?”

“Uh, yeah, totally, Y/N,” he stuttered, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards into a smirk. You could smell the peppermint Schnapps on his breath.

“Great. Thanks, Brad!” you smiled, grabbing Peter’s hand and pulling him towards the staircase. By the time you made it to his bedroom, he had already asked what was going on about ten times.

“Why’d you dump me?” you asked, the two of you sitting together on the edge of his bed, your knee brushing against his. He could tell you were wasting no time in getting to the point. “Be honest.”

He stared at the floor, unsure of how to answer your question. You reached for his hand, running your thumb across his knuckles until he looked up to see you smiling at him. His eyes were starting to water. “Just tell me, Peter. It’s okay.”

“I was scared,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I was scared of how much I love you. I mean, Liz was just a crush, and Gwen was a hookup. I’ve only ever loved you, Y/N. Before we met, I had to watch May’s heart break day after day when we lost Uncle Ben, and when I realized how much I loved you... I just wasn’t sure if I could handle ever losing you like that. And so I felt like I needed to protect you from all of the people who would want to hurt you.”

“Hey, Peter. Calm down. I’m right here,” you whispered, wiping a tear from his face. You watched as his breathing slowed, eventually evening out. “Why would anybody want to hurt me?”

“Because…” he started, hesitating a little bit. “Because I’m Spider-Man.”

Your eyes grew big as you mulled over what he had just said. “Are you being serious right now?”

He nodded, feeling a weight lift from his chest. Your eyes followed him as he walked over to his closet, digging around through piles of clothes before he found what he was looking for.

“Holy shit,” you breathed out. Peter was holding up Spider-Man’s suit. His suit. The sweatshirt from earlier made a lot more sense now.

“I would never lie to you,” he said, folding it up and sitting back down. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I thought I was doing the right thing—that you’d be safe—but I was so stupid. I, uh, I think about you all the time. I worry whether you’ve gotten home alright and how your little brother’s doing and if your mom got the promotion that she wanted and—”

You cut him off with a kiss, something you had been dying to do ever since you shut his bedroom door. “I forgive you,” you sighed, gently playing with his hair.

Peter stared back at you, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “Does this mean that we’re back together?”

“Yep,” you confirmed, before leaning into another kiss. And another. And another.

“Wait,” Peter said, breaking away from you. “I have a present for you. It’s actually from when we first started dating, but I was waiting until Christmas to give it to you.”

He moved to his desk, digging through one of the drawers before pulling out a flash drive. “Here it is,” he smiled, dropping it into your hand. It had your name scribbled on it next to a cat sticker. “It’s a playlist. Of all the songs that make me think of you. I think it’s got around a hundred on there?”

“Wow,” you beamed, marveling at the little piece of plastic in your hand. “You’re making me look bad. I didn’t get you anything.”

“Not true. You owe me a date, remember?” he reminded you, wiggling his eyebrows and pulling you into his lap.

“You’re right. Let me think,” you hummed, running through all the ideas of what the two of you could do. “Oh! I got it. The Central Park Squirrel Census for this year just got released. What if we analyzed the data? You could do the wrangling and I could do the visualizations!”

“I love you so much,” he laughed, pressing a kiss onto the tip of your nose. You giggled as Peter buried his face into your shoulder, his grip around your waist tightening. “But you are such a nerd.”

“I’m your nerd, Parker,” you agreed, leaning further into his embrace. “Always have been and always will be.”

—————-

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P.S.: Please shoot me an ask or a reply if you’d like to be added to (or removed from) the taglist!

[simpingforsoftboys]

Too Little Too Late

ft. IwaOi

G/N reader

TW: Neglect, manipulation, toxicity in general, swearing

Read this first

tysm for the request anon! It’s about time Y/n stood up for themselves don’t you think? That’s the thing about relationships like these. It’s so hard to get out of them once you’re in deep- even if you can see every single red flag clear as day.

Also I’ve decided that since these are lengthy- there will be separate parts for Kuroken, SakuAtsu, and OsaSuna in the future.

 This one is something I actually turned into a two shot: part one and part two. So same plot line, just goes more in depth on the “break up” part.

This was it, you were finally going to do it. After two decades of following your soon to be ex boyfriends around, it was time for you to step out of their shadow- into the limelight of independency. Still, you felt like a coward- leaving them while neither were even in the country. It was petty perhaps, but deep down within your heart- the vindictive, evil, and cruel part of you whispered that this was what they deserved. You were nearly finished packing- two suitcases stuffed to the max with your clothing and any small, expensive purchase you bought for yourself. Now all you needed to do was shove anything else that could fit into your duffel bag. 

This wasn’t a new idea. Leaving them that is. In fact, you’d been thinking about it for years already. Honestly, you doubted you’d have even begun noticing just how unbalanced your current dynamic with your two “lovers” was, until a stranger- turned friend had pointed it out. 

His name had been Miya Atsumu- he had gone to Tokyo University just like you and was the starting setter for their volleyball team. He was flirty at first, acting like a stereotypical frat boy. Despite telling him you had not one- but two partners- he hadn’t left you alone at that fateful party. 

“Wait... yer datin’ that newbie setter from Argentina? AND Iwaizumi... the one who’s boutta transfer over to that American university?” Atsumu questioned incredulously, nearly doing a spit take, he leans over your figure and places his red solo cup down on the counter behind you. 

“Yeah... I know it’s not a normal relationship-” You begin, already used to defending you and your lovers. 

“Nah, that’s not what I’m sayin’ darlin.” The blonde replies, his words make him seem as though he’s hitting on you but somehow there’s an undertone of genuine concern. “Neither of em have even spared ya a glance since ya got here! Seems like they’re the ones in love- not the three of ya.”

You had frowned at his words, shaking them off easily. The three of you were in love, besides, no stranger could have deduced that at first glance- if anything he was just trying to meddle in your happy relationship... so why did his words continue to plague you that night, and for many nights after that? 

Looking back on it now, you should have listened to Atsumu sooner. 

You had countless discussions with Hajime and Toru after the night of the party. They had seemed genuinely sorry and made an effort to be more inclusive. However, they slowly fell back into old habits- time and time again- as if they had forgotten the promises they had made. 

There would be no more discussions, no more nights staying up, waiting for them to come back home from their date. 

There would be no more of the three of you- just Hajime and Toru. 

That thought prevented you from picking up the framed photo on your bedside- the one of you three. It had been taken at a children’s festival that the three of you had taken Takeru too. It was probably the last photo where you had been so blinded by your love for them that you completely glossed over the fact that the only people they were looking at were each other. 

“Y/n... what are you doing?” A raspy voice called from the bedroom’s doorway, startling you from your memories. Body shaking, you turned around to face the owner of the voice. “We came home early to surprise you... only to find you packing your bags?” 

The same two people that you didn’t want to see stood before you. Both toted suitcases and smelt like the airport. You couldn’t find it within yourself to look them in the eyes, fearing that if you did you’d lose your strength, turn around, and begin unpacking.

“Y/n... prince(ss), what’s going on? Talk to us.” Toru whispered, speaking to you as if you were a cornered animal. That analogy wasn’t wrong per say but it did nothing to help you calm your nerves. 

You knew it shouldn’t have but for some reason his tone had made your heart skip a beat.

“Yeah babe, let’s put the bags down and take a seat... we can talk about this right after me and Toru shower.” Hajime agreed, his poor choice of words stirring anger within your soul- intense and smoldering like Zeus’s lightning bolts.

“No!” You cry, tears of pent up anger, hurt, and every other negative repressed emotion, begins to well up in your eyes. “I’m going to say this one last time- then I’m going to leave. We won’t talk. I’m not going to... to wait until you finish showering. I’m sick and tired of this- this absolute fucking BULLSHIT!” 

They stare at you wide eyed, not quite knowing how to respond. You don’t even give them the chance to think about how to do so- instead you opt to continue your rant. 

“I love you two so damn much. So, so much- to the point that it hurts me.” Your gaze flickered between the two of them. “Loving you... it breaks my heart. I can’t do it anymore Toru, Hajime. I wanted too- God knows I do. But I can’t keep doing this-”

Toru lets his carry on drop to the floor and races over, attempting to embrace you in a hug. Every bone, every fiber, literally every part of you is begging you to stay trapped in his arms. He’s warm and he’s here. It’s all you’ve ever wanted. 

Too little too late.

You shove him off, biting back sobs. Hajime hurries behind him, catching the taller male as he falls. 

“Y/n calm down what’s going on? What did we do?” Olive green eyes flit over to meet yours, they’re just as lovely as they have always been. But you notice that they’re also cold, like jade bracelets and old watered down matcha tea. 

“It’s what you didn’t do Haji.” You say and they can see the heart ache on your face. “I love you but you don’t love me- not as much as I love you at least.” Both of them look like they want to argue but you shake your head- effectively silencing them. The picture on the night stand stares back at you tauntingly- ignorance was indeed bliss it seems. Grasping it lightly you place it on the ground and kicked it gently, letting it slide over to where Toru and Hajime are still seated on the ground. The brunette takes it in his hands and examines it. 

“This was when we took Takeru to the children’s festival!” 

“Yeah... we were so happy then... where did that go wrong Y/n? When did you stop smiling like this?” Hajime whispers. 

“I stopped smiling like that when I realized the truth- about us.” They watch as you take a deep breath, composing yourself. “It took me a long while, but I’ve been coming to terms with it.” A choked gasp escapes your lips, leading you to quickly spill the rest of your well kept insecurities. “This... this thing we have going on- it’s a toxic, endless cycle. There’s no us- it’s just Hajime and Toru plus Y/n.”

Toru’s expression morphs from empathetic to down right murderous. He’s offended that you would dare imply something like that. Deep down, you’re sure he knows you’re actually right, and he’s just acting like that to save his pride. A pang of shame hits you- when had you begun thinking mean thoughts like that?

“How could you say that?” He spits, tone devoid of sweetness, now replaced with lethal venom. “Everything we do is for you. We give you money, this nice home, space, time- our love. And you have the fucking gall to say we’re ostracizing you from our relationship? What the hell are you thinking Y/n?” 

You’ve never seen him this angry- not in all the years you’ve known the setter. It sorta terrifies you. Hajime doesn’t bother to reprimand Toru for his tone like usual, instead he looks like he agrees with him. 

“He’s right Y/n, everything we do is for you. Are you mad because we didn’t take you to a wedding? Guess what- that’s just business. Stop being so damn jealous for no reason. You can’t be selfish in our sort of relationship. Didn’t you know that in the first place?” 

They don’t- won’t see things from your point of view. Honestly, what were you even expecting.

“When have I EVER been selfish? I cook, clean, and practically orbit around the two of you. I’m not mad just because of a FUCKING WEDDING! I’m upset- and hurt because you can’t ever see from my eyes. Don’t think I haven’t seen the differences between the looks you give me verses each other. The date nights you forget to include me in- the stolen kisses in the morning you give each other without even thinking about me. Even when I try to initiate something I’m ‘too clingy’ or you’re ‘too busy.’ FUCK THAT. I deserve better. So I think I deserve to be selfish just this once- because this is something I need to do for me. Not for you.” 

They’re stunned, unable to speak. So they say nothing at all, watching you zip up your duffel bag and single handedly take all your baggage out into the living room by yourself. Neither of them say anything when there’s a knock on the door and they can hear your best friend enter their home and help you take your stuff down to their car. 

There’s nothing they can do. So they go to bed without showering, thinking about the things you said and reflecting. You made it quite clear to them. It’s over- the three of you.

[hopelesshawks]

Physical Fatality Part 4- Task Force Bonding

18+ Hawks x fem, pro hero!reader

Summary: You’re a rising star in All Might’s agency. Hawks is the darling of Endeavor’s. By virtue of your job descriptions, the two of you are supposed to hate each other, or at the very least be cautiously neutral. For a long time that’s exactly what the two of you did. You stayed out of each other’s way and formed little opinion of the other. One fateful night at an HPSC gala changes all that. Based on the album Hopeless Fountain Kingdom by Halsey.

If you don’t want to see Physical Fatality content blacklist #hopelesspf

This story will have multiple NSFW parts so it is 18+ ONLY minors dni

Warnings for alcoholism mention, hand job, fingering

Masterlist

“Boys, I’ve got an announcement,” Hawks declares as he strolls into the office and grabs a seat by Shoto and Tokoyami. “Is it an explanation of what the fuck you did last night to end up soaking wet and late to evacuate from an emergency?” Shoto asks. “Actually yes it is,” Hawks replies smugly. “Wait actually? Ok what is it?” Tokoyami says as both he and Shoto turn to give Hawks their full attention. “I’m in love,” Hawks declares. Tokoyami and Shoto both groan and go back to paying attention to the tasks they’d been focused on when Hawks first walked in. “Hey what’s with those reactions?” Hawks pouts. “We already know you think you’re in love with Mirko. We were expecting actual news,” Shoto says by way of explanation. “What? No, not Mirko. Mirko and I are done. Mirko is dead,” Hawks says. “Mirko is dead?” “Not literally Shoto.” “Right. Who are you in love with then?” “I don’t actually know her name.”

Hawks does not appreciate the incredulous looks both Tokoyami and Shoto give him. “Will you guys just let me explain! Look it was like when I first saw her it was like magnets. There was just something pulling me towards her. So, of course, I had to approach her,” Hawks explains. “She rejected you didn’t she?” Tokoyami interrupts. “Oh is that why you don’t know her name?” Shoto asks. “No! Oh my god let me finish,” Hawks says exasperatedly. “Ok, ok we’ll let you finish,” Tokoyami cedes as he and Shoto both raise their hands in surrender. “Thank you. As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” Hawks starts again with a roll of his eyes, “I approached her and we got talking and she suggests we go to the hotel bar. Except we get there and it’s closed. So we steal a bottle and break into the hotel pool.” “Hence the soaking wet part,” Shoto says. “Exactly, hence the soaking wet part. Anyway we had a magical evening and even more magical sex and I’ve never met anyone like her before and I’m in love,” Hawks finishes. “Why the fuck didn’t you get her name then?” Tokoyami asks. “The goddamn alarm went off. Apparently she just broke off an engagement or something so she didn’t want the scandal of us going outside together and I forgot to ask her before she ran off,” Hawks admits. “So what’s the game plan?” Shoto asks. “Try and find her I guess. She was there alone so she must be a top hero, it’s just a matter of figuring out which one,” Hawks shrugs. Before he can start pitching his ideas for discovering your identity, he is interrupted by Endeavor’s voice summoning the three men into his office. Shoto rolls his eyes and Tokoyami just shrugs, before all three of them stand and do as told.

Endeavor looks pissed. Hawks briefly wonders if he somehow found out about the stolen bottle or lock picking from the previous night but dismisses that thought. The press hadn’t caught wind of you and his private party in the pool so he sincerely doubts Endeavor did. Furthermore, as long as he wasn’t putting up bad headlines Endeavor generally didn’t care what Hawks did. Endeavor had faith in him and he so rarely made the news for anything particularly scandalous that he generally only got a slap on the wrist on the odd occasion he did have a slightly too public breakup. Finally, if this were about last night why were Shoto and Tokoyami called in? “So it turns out the emergency last night wasn’t an accident. It’s still unclear who’s responsible but the HPSC is classifying this as top priority since it looks like it was an attempt to wipe out all the top heroes while we were gathered in one place,” Endeavor explains. “Ok? Why do you look like All Might pissed in your cereal?” Shoto asks with a raised eyebrow. “Shoto!” Endeavor chastises. “What? Am I wrong? Why are you so pissed?” Shoto presses. Endeavor sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as if Shoto is giving him a migraine. He probably is. “The reason I am… less than thrilled, is because the HPSC has requested we form a task force with the top three heroes from All Might’s agency in order to tackle the issue,” Endeavor admits. “Oh nice, it’s been a minute since I talked to Izuku or Bakugo,” Shoto shrugs. “Who’s the third top in their agency now? Is it still Monoma?” Tokoyami asks. “Jesus you UA kids really are ridiculous,” Hawks comments. “Whatever Mr. Youngest Pro to break top 5 in history,” Shoto replies. “To answer your question Tokoyami,” Endeavor says pointedly as he gives Hawks and Shoto a look, “I’m not sure. It’s not Monoma anymore it’s some girl now. I believe her hero name is Artemis. She moved up after the annual announcement ceremony so her new ranking technically hasn’t been announced yet.” “I’m sure Monoma loved that,” Tokoyami chuckles. “In any case you all will find out who she is soon enough. We’re going to All Might’s office to meet with them in a minute,” Endeavor declares.

“So let me get this straight,” Bakugo says as you pretend to do paperwork, “you evacuated the building almost twenty minutes late, giving Deku a heart attack and almost necessitating a search team to go in, only to arrive dripping wet with no explanation, because you were having some of the best, most mind blowing sex of your life with a mystery man.” “Yep,” you reply shortly. “And you didn’t bother to fucking get his name or number?” He asks incredulously. “Yea sounds about right,” you say. “Why not (y/n)? Maybe he’s the love of your life? Maybe you two are destined to be together and that’s why you felt such a pull to him,” Midoriya suggests. It amazes you sometimes how someone so terrifying in battle can be such an optimistic puppy outside of it. “I don’t do relationships Izu, you know this,” you sigh, giving up on being productive. “You did with Monoma,” he points out. “Yea, because I had to for the sake of my career. And look how that turned out,” you argue. “You know it’s not the same thing dumbass,” Bakugo interjects. “Look, last night was fucking incredible, I’ll admit, but that’s it. Mystery man would want nothing to do with me the moment he realized how messy I actually am,” you sigh. “That’s not true,” Midoriya insists. “Why are we talking about me anyway when Bakugo finally fucked Red Riot?” you whine. “What? Kacchan is that true?” “Both of you shut the fuck up!”

Hawks will never get used to how deeply the Endeavor-All Might feud runs within the agencies, especially lower down the ladder. As he, Shoto, Tokoyami, and Endeavor enter the lobby the other heroes of the agency whisper amongst themselves. He doesn’t bother trying to parse out what they’re saying. He knows it will be the usual outlandish rumors about his boss and how horrid he, Tokoyami, and Shoto must be to stand the man at all. He’s not worried about Dynamight and Deku. As fiercely loyal as they are to All Might, he also knows they went to school with Tokoyami and Shoto, which makes them immune to the ridiculous rumors. The mysterious third top hero he’s more curious about. If you only just got promoted that means you’d been amongst the gossiping lower ranked heroes for much of your career and may be more inclined to believe them. He only hopes you’ll at least be professional enough not to let it interfere with work. The four of them take the elevator to the top floor and step out into the main office space there as Endeavor leads the way to All Might’s office. Hawks notices Shoto and Tokoyami throw a wave to someone so he turns to see who. He notices Bakugo and Midoriya first but as his eyes slide to see who the third person with them is he stops in his tracks. There you are: his mystery girl. He’d been worried he’d never see you again and yet there you are. As if sensing his eyes on you, you turn only to make eye contact with him. Your eyes go wide as you seem to recognize him back. He tries to think of something, anything, to say or do but before he can Shoto notices him lagging behind and with a roll of his eyes drags him into All Might’s office behind the rest of the Endeavor squad.

“What the fuck,” you say still in shock. Bakugo and Midoriya both turn to look at you confused. “What is it (y/n) are you ok?” Midoriya asks concerned. “Oh my god, that’s him. That’s fucking mystery man,” you tell them. “HAWKS is your mystery man?” Midoriya asks shocked. “No wonder you didn’t walk out with him. Imagine if the press found out you hooked up with someone from Endeavor’s agency the same day you ended your engagement with someone from your own,” Bakugo notes. “In my defense I didn’t know he’s in Endeavor’s agency,” you groan. “Didn’t know? Everyone knows Hawks is Endeavor’s right hand man. Dude is insanely loyal,” Midoriya comments. “I didn’t know he was Hawks!” you defend. “What the fuck other pro hero has giant ass red wings?” Bakugo asks you incredulously. “I’ve never fucking seen Hawks before so shoot me!” you defend. “How is that possible? What about during the hero ranking broadcasts, he’s been number two for years now,” Midoriya points out. “I don’t watch those. Who gives a fuck what ranking heroes are as long as they’re doing their jobs,” you comment. “Ok, what about last year? You physically went to the event with Monoma to support him,” Midoriya points out. “Oh I was completely blacked out, I don’t remember anything from that,” you shrug. Midoriya looks horrified and Bakugo mildly impressed. “What? You know he was always at his worst during events like that, I wasn’t going to go through that sober,” you defend yourself. “We need to have a serious talk later about your alcoholism,” Midoriya tells you. “Ah but I’m a fully functioning alcoholic who doesn’t drink on the job so it’s sexy.” “I- That’s-,” Midoriya stutters but before he can cobble together a sentence All Might is calling the three of you into his office. “We’re finishing this conversation later,” Midoriya warns you. “No, we’re not,” you singsong as the three of you go to join the others.

“I know you guys are familiar with Dynamight and Deku but this is Artemis. I’m sure you’ll all get along just fine,” All Might says by way of introduction. “I’m Shoto,” a man with half-white, half-red hair tells you, extending a hand. “Oh shit you’re icy hot,” you blurt out as you shake his hand. You can hear Bakugo snicker beside you as All Might gives you a look. “I mean, uh, I’ve heard a lot about you from Midoriya and Bakugo. Nice to meet you,” you recover sheepishly. “It’s quite alright. I’ve missed Bakugo’s nicknames somewhat,” Todoroki smirks. “Shut it Todoroki,” your friend replies with a roll of his eyes. “I don’t even want to know what Bakugo calls me but Tokoyami should work just fine,” a man with a bird head introduces himself. “Nice to meet you Tokoyami,” you grin as you shake his hand too.

As you finally turn to Hawks you think you could combust on the spot. Your gaze meets his and it’s just as electric as it was that first time. Your heart is pounding out of your chest and you have no idea how you’re expected to be professional with him when not even half an hour ago you were telling your friends all about how good his dick was, thinking you’d never see him again. “Name’s Hawks. It’s nice to meet you Artemis,” he grins as he extends a hand out to you. Damn him for being so cool and composed right now. “Likewise,” you reply, trying desperately not to let your panic show on your face as you shake hands with him. You almost don’t want to let back go but you yell at your brain to release him and remind yourself that you will not be pursuing anything with the admittedly charming man in front of you. “You know,” Shoto suddenly pipes up, “it would probably be a good idea for all of us to get to know each other since we will need to work together for who knows how long to get this matter settled.” Tokoyami quickly clues in to the plan. “Oh yea that’s a great point. It’s been a long time since we caught up with Bakugo and Midoriya and I can’t wait to get to know you a little better Artemis,” he chimes in. Oblivious but loving the idea all the same, Midoriya is quick to agree as well. Before you know it you’re being ushered into the back of a taxi, sandwiched between your two closest friends on the way to Shoto’s house for “task-force bonding” or whatever Midoriya had decided to call it.

Meanwhile, Hawks, Tokoyami, and Shoto pile into their own ride, after not-so-gently reminding Hawks that not all of them could fly so easily as him. “So much for your mystery girl. If you eye-fucked Artemis any harder All Might and Endeavor may have actually clued in. You’re welcome for suggesting this by the way,” Shoto says. “No, no you don’t understand Artemis is mystery girl,” Hawks explains, shaking his head in disbelief. “Are you serious?” Tokoyami asks. Hawks can only nod enthusiastically. “You owe me cold soba for a month for setting this up then,” Shoto replies easily. “Deal. Holy shit, ok, operation convince Artemis to date me is a go,” Hawks says. “That’s a horrible idea,” Tokoyami points out, “if this goes sideways you still have to work with her for God knows how long.” “Shhh, let him have his fun. If nothing else it will be entertaining to watch,” Shoto says. “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence. Just watch, it’ll be easy,” Hawks assures them.

Spoiler alert: it was not easy.

You avoided being alone with him for as long as you could. An impressive feat really, considering Midoriya seemed to be the only person in attendance not determined to get you to have a one-on-one conversation with the man. This meant you stuck pretty closely to Midoriya’s side, but, unfortunately, Midoriya had been serious about being concerned by your drinking habits, so sticking close to him meant staying far more sober than you would like to be to deal with your possible feelings for Hawks. Even with Midoriya as a shield from alone time Hawks had managed to get your real name, favorite movie, and favorite song out of you. That’s already too much information for a previous hook up to have. Eventually you decide you’re definitely going to need alcohol to get through this night so you sneak into the kitchen when no one is looking in search of booze. You’re rummaging through the cabinets when Hawks finally manages to track you down. “You won’t find anything in here. Shoto keeps most of his alcohol downstairs,” Hawks says, startling you. You clear your throat and quickly close the cabinet door you’d opened. “That obvious?” you ask sheepishly. “You’ve looked like you could use a drink since we got here. C’mon, I’ll show you,” Hawks says before turning around and heading down a hallway leading away from the others. You debate for a moment but in the end that mysterious magnetism binding you and Hawks together has your feet carrying you down the hallway after him.

He leads you to the basement where there’s an entire bar as well as a cozy living room. “Grab a seat and I’ll bring something over,” Hawks says gesturing to the couch as he moves to the bar. You take a seat and have to resist the urge to fidget as your nerves take over. You keep thinking about how much of a bad idea this is but your traitorous heart keeps you in place. Hawks pulls down a decanter of whiskey and pours both of you a glass. He carries both glasses over, with one of his feathers placing the decanter on the coffee table nearby, but as you reach to grab one he pulls it out of reach. “Ah, ah, ah. First, why don’t you tell me why you’re avoiding me,” he says. “Who says I’m avoiding you?” You ask. “Don’t insult my intelligence,” he replies immediately. “Fair enough,” you sigh, “look it’s not anything you did but last night was a one time thing. As incredible as it was, there can’t be a repeat.” “That felt like a one time thing to you?” he asks although he does finally relent and give you your glass as he takes a seat beside you. “Yep,” you lie before taking a large sip of your drink. “Liar. I know you felt what I did. That was something more. Something incredible,” he insists getting just a bit closer to you. Your heart races at his proximity but you try to stay on task. “Look I know you’re dying to get to know me, but as soon as you do you’ll wish that you never did,” you insist. “I seriously doubt that,” he replies with a shrug. “I’m serious! I’m practically an alcoholic, when I’m not working I party a lot just to get my brain to shut up, and I’m such a mess I was going to marry someone just to try and save myself from tabloid headlines and in doing so save my career,” you ramble on. “You’re overthinking this,” he tells you as he finally gets close enough that your thighs are brushing and he brings one hand up to cup your check. “Everywhere I go since I got promoted I’ve got a million different people all wanting to know me and yet I’m still alone. What makes you any different?” you ask, your eyes searching his for something even you aren’t sure of. “I’ve felt the same exact thing since I was 18,” he confesses. “I know you want to slip under my armor Hawks but I can’t,” you finally admit and it’s desperate because your resolve is starting to waver as he leans in closer to you. “Keigo.” “What?” “You want proof this is different? There it is. You’re now one of the only people in the entire world that knows that name. If I can trust you with that, surely you can trust me,” he tells you. You’re speechless. Absolutely speechless. You swore you wouldn’t get into a relationship but your heart is running rampant in your chest. “Just one chance Love. I’m not asking you to love me yet.” “Yet?” “Yet. For now I’m just asking for a chance. Ok?” “Ok Keigo.”

When he finally closes the distance between you two to press his lips to yours it’s like getting your first taste of oxygen after suffocating. It’s a sweeter kiss this time, lacking the urgency from the previous night. It’s like he knows beneath everything your heart is still kind of delicate. His hands move to your waist as he gently pushes you back so you’re laying down on the couch, him following you down until he’s on top of you, his legs straddling your own. There are probably a million reasons you shouldn’t be doing this but you can’t recall a single one as one of his hands slips beneath the hem of your shirt. All the thoughts you had of pushing him away earlier in the night abandon you in favor of their polar opposite. Now you cannot possibly get him close enough. Before long he deftly slides a hand down your pants and into your panties. “Fuck, you’re already so wet for me,” he groans. “Of course, I am, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since last night,” you reply and you’re shocked by your honesty. “Me too, baby. Me too,” Hawks pants as he slips one of his fingers inside of you. You gasp at the sensation as his finger drags along your inner wall, almost immediately finding that one spot that has you damn near seeing stars. You’re eager to return the favor so as he inserts a second and third finger you reach one of your hands down his pants to grasp hold of his hard and leaking erection. Your thumb swipes over the head to collect some of the precum gathering there before you begin working his shaft, sliding your hand up and down along it in time with the way his fingers move inside of you. You never thought something so simple could feel so incredible. The two of you move in tandem, your hips starting to buck into each thrust of his fingers and him fucking into your hand like he could never get enough. The two of you haven’t even bothered to remove your clothes, just loosened things enough to gain the access you need. His thumb begins to press circles to your clit and shortly thereafter the two of you finally reach climax together, his seed spilling on your hand and shirt as you cum around his fingers. Even as the two of you are coming down, he presses kisses to your lips, your neck, your cheek, and just about anywhere else he can reach.

“I’m gonna need a new shirt,” you finally huff out as you slowly start to collect yourself, wiping your hand off on your shirt since it’s ruined already anyway. Keigo laughs and you have to admit it’s one of the most beautiful sights you’ve ever seen. “You can borrow my over shirt. I guess it’s a good thing I wore layers,” he laughs as he shifts to give you space to straighten out your jeans and remove your now soiled shirt. He takes off the plaid shirt he’d been wearing and hands it to you, leaving him in just a black tee. You put on the borrowed shirt and button it up as he too straightens himself out so it’s at least a little less obvious what the two of you have been getting up two. As you finish adjusting your clothing Keigo leans in to kiss you one more time, before whispering against your lips “You won’t regret this. I promise.”

For some reason you’re inclined to believe him.

Author’s Note: This is probably obvious but I’m gonna say it anyway READER’S RELIANCE ON ALCOHOL IS VERY UNHEALTHY. Midoriya is right to be concerned. On a more fun note, if any of you are curious yes the others realized that Hawks and (y/n) were suspiciously absent, yes they knew even before the two of them came back upstairs what they’d been up to. Bakugo, Todoroki, and Tokoyami even placed bets on how long it would take for it to happen Todoroki won

Taglist [open]: @akkaso @cathy8taffy @eeppff @iikillerkitteh

[ieattaperecorders]

Notes on Causality - Chapter 4: Gerry

A favor for an old friend.

Read on Ao3

As he fell away for the final time, he felt that all-consuming fear, and his only thought was to cry out for his mother. But with the last vestige of his stubborn will, he refused. She would not claim his last moment. He was silent.

And so Gerard Keay ended. But there would be no rest for him. 

The recitation came to an end, the agony of being pulled through his own demise faded into dull awareness. He remembered himself, the negative space where a person had once been. Gerard had never liked ghost stories. He liked them less now that he was one of them.

The man holding the book was a stranger. He was old, though probably not as old as Trevor. His hair had been black once but was far more salt than pepper now, and his face was creased around the forehead and mouth. A pattern of scars on his face and neck made Gerard think instinctively of filth, and of burrowing things.

So. Either this was someone who’d taken the book from the Van Helsings, or more likely someone they’d threatened into using it so they didn’t have to look at him directly. Pricks.

“. . . Are they dead?” he asked tiredly.

“You mean the hunters?” the man shook his head. “No, I sincerely doubt I would have been able to manage that. But I took pains to cover my tracks.”

“You stole the book from them?"

“Well, it was stolen to begin with, wasn’t it?”

“Hmm,” Gerard tilted his head, smirking grimly. “Condolences to your family, then. Aren’t many in the world who can cover their tracks enough for those two.”

“I’m well aware,” the man sighed. “I’ve done what I can, nothing left but to wait and see now.”

They were in a small bedroom, inside what was probably a cabin. Gerard saw dark wood walls, oil lamps, and a tattered rug that bore some kitschy pattern he couldn’t be bothered to identify. Any view there might have been through the window was obscured by white-out snowfall. There was a fire in the fireplace, not that he could feel it.

“Who’re you, then?”

“My name’s Jon. I used to be the Archivist, until I took your father’s way out.”

He gestured towards his face, and Gerard finally noticed the scars crossing over his eyes -- false ones, probably. The implications sank in.

“Hard to tell how much time’s passing in here,” he said. An echo of an emotion, something that was almost sadness. “But unless you’re a hell of a lot older than you look, I don’t think you’re Gertrude’s predecessor.”

“No. No . . . I was her successor.”

“So she’s dead?”

“I’m afraid so,” Jon said. “She died holding a can of petrol, daring a man to shoot her.”

The thought warmed something in the absence of Gerard, and he smiled. “. . . Good.”

For a moment, he pictured Gertrude standing on a chair to disable the alarm in his hospital room so that he could light the cigarette she’d snuck in. A phantom ache came from where the IV had been in his arm. The hole was still there, still unhealed. It would never have the chance to be otherwise.

He took another look at Jon, tired resignation coming over him.

“So . . . ‘used-to-be-Archivist,’” he sighed. “You went to the trouble of getting the skin book from a pair of homicidal maniacs. I’m guessing you have questions.”

“Not really. I assume you want me to burn your page, I suppose I just wanted to talk to you first. Tell you what’s coming, and confirm that it’s what you want.”

“. . . It is,” he said adamantly. “Being like this hurts , there’s no real life in it. Whatever else there is, even if it’s nothing? I’ll take it.”

“I understand.” Jon paused. “I . . . if you want, I can let you go. Get it done right away.”

To his surprise, Gerard hesitated. He didn’t know what made him do so. Maybe it was fear, the thought of facing a second end, one that would hopefully be final. Maybe it was reluctance that he sensed in Jon, what was left of him reflecting the emotions of the living like the moon to sunlight. Or, hell, maybe now that he knew it would all be over soon he just wanted to linger a bit longer. He didn’t know, and he supposed it didn’t matter.

“Nah. I’ll stay a while. Got all eternity to not exist, right?” he shrugged. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a cigarette . . .”

“Sorry. Quit some time ago. And you couldn’t smoke it anyway, could you?”

“Guess not.” Something occurred to him, and he frowned. “Hey, how’d you read it?”

“What?”

“My page. You said you took my dad’s way out, right? He had to blind himself, and the book’s not exactly in Braille. How’d you read the page?”

“Oh! That’s uh . . . sort of a long story, actually.”

There was a pause, during which it became clear that he wasn’t going to follow that with anything.

“Well, summarize then,” Gerard said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“All right . . . I’ve actually met you before. I lived through a, hmm ---” he sighed, looking annoyed. “Well, Melanie insists on referring to it as an alternate timeline, which I really don’t care for. But I have to admit it’s a useful way to conceptualize it, so . . . .”

“Right, right,” Gerard waved a hand. “The whole ‘it’s not really this but we’re calling it this’ thing, I got it.”

“I was trying to continue Gertrude’s work of stopping rituals, which is how I met you originally. I burned your page that time as well . . . which, incidentally, did not go well for me. They did notice it was missing.” 

There was a snippy edge to Jon’s tone, and Gerard smirked, unable to shake the feeling that he was on the receiving end of a cross-timeline ‘I told you so.’ 

“Better luck this time. Maybe the Van Helsings have gone soft,” he said without conviction.

“Oh yes, clearly they’re winding down to retirement,” Jon’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Regardless, things got pretty bad in those years. And, um . . . the world ended.”

“. . . Fucking hell.”

“More or less, yes.”

“Was it as bad as we thought it’d be?”

“Worse. Whatever you imagined, it was worse,” he said grimly. “Eventually, I found a way to pass my own memories onto my past self, and with that knowledge I’ve changed the course of events so that none of it ever happened.”

“Hence the world still being here.”

“For the time being. It took a long time to find the Hunters, even longer to put a plan together to get the book from them without leaving a trail. By the time we’d worked out what we’d be doing they’d moved on and we had to find them again, and so on,” he waved his hand. “But eventually . . . well, here we are.”

“Huh.” Gerard paused. He ran all that over in his head again. “Didn’t really answer my question, did you?”

“Oh, right,” Jon laughed softly. “Well. As it turns out, holding the book and reciting from memory is good enough. If that hadn’t worked, I’d have had to call my husband in here.”

“. . . Where is here, anyway?” Gerard looked around at the small room. “It feels strange. Couldn’t quite tell at first, but this place isn’t normal, is it?”

“It’s not, no. We found an artifact of the Vast, a snow globe that traps you inside if you look at it too long. Time passes at a different rate here . . . minutes become decades, hours multiple centuries. You don’t age or die, but you feel the passage of time, and you’re only released if the globe is broken. By then if there’s anything left of you you’ll return to a world you barely remember, a blip in your memories that are now eons long.”

“Right. And you’re here on purpose?”

“A friend of ours was holding it when we went in, she’ll have let it go the instant we disappeared. A few milliseconds for reaction time, then a second or two of freefall before it hits the concrete floor. Time enough to erase any trail that the Hunters might follow.”

Gerard frowned. “How does that work? Won’t it be just a second for them too?”

“Well, yes. But whether they find us has more to do with us than with them? You know how these things are.”

“Inside-out dream logic, yeah.”

“While we’re here we’re not running, and we’re in the grasp of another power that will greedily consume any fear we feel. If our theory's correct, when we return our tracks will be obliterated, and any breadcrumbs eaten by birds.”

“Yeah, I get it. What d’you think it is about the Hunt that makes everyone go for the fairy tale metaphors, anyway?”

“Couldn’t say. We should be here a few months, maybe close to a year if it doesn’t break immediately and Tim needs to use the baseball bat,” he smiled wryly. “We brought quite a few board games.”

“Sounds like a cozy holiday.”

“Yes! We’re trying to think of it that way,” he smiled, perking. “It’ll still be rough near the end, I’m sure. These things don’t come without consequences, you can’t throw yourself into something touched by the Vast without a taste of the horrors of eternity. But we’re good at keeping each other grounded. And I consider this worth it.”

“Unless something goes wrong and you’re trapped for all eternity.”

“True. It would definitely not be worth that. No offense.”

“None taken. Eternity’s a long time.”

Gerard tried to think of the last time someone had done something for him, with nothing to gain for themselves. Then he started to wonder if it had ever happened. 

Something in him became still, then. Quiet, and cold.

“I . . . think I’m ready to go.”

". . . All right,” Jon hesitated, as if he might say something else, then nodded. “All right, then. Goodbye, Gerry. I dismiss you.”

Something flickered in him, and then he felt himself fade. The room slipped away, and he was once again nowhere and nothing. 

He felt himself being torn from the book, felt leather split, waxed linen strain and snap as he was pulled from the binding that held him. There was a moment of breath, there was relief, and then there was only the fire.

It was nothing like being burned alive, and he would know. The pain was more insult than injury. What he felt instead was a frightening dissolution. Whatever was left of him – his thoughts, his memories, his feelings – he felt them disappear as he was being burned away. 

The fear of his own end, the terror he had been bound in for so long threatened to return and drag him into oblivion screaming. But as the last vestiges of what had once been Gerard Keay were consumed, his mind drifted away from itself. He thought instead about Jon, about the last person he would ever speak to. 

He didn’t think much, really. Just wondered if his plan would work, if he and his husband would escape the trap they’d put themselves into voluntarily. If they did this sort of thing all the time – burning Leitners and making enemies of Hunters – or if it was even remotely possible that they’d done it all for him.

Then Gerard Keay was gone. For good, this time.

---

Martin dropped the quartered logs in a pile next to the door, pausing to stomp the snow off him, take off his boots and brush the worst of it off his clothes. The endless snowstorm being what it was, he supposed there wouldn’t be much wandering around outside. Cabin fever was the whole point of this place.

The sounds of muffled conversation from behind the bedroom door had stopped just before he went out to the woodshed, and they hadn’t started up again. He decided to give the door a knock.

“Come in,” Jon’s voice came from beyond. “I’m . . . it’s done.”

Opening the door, Martin was greeted with the sight of Jon knelt in front of the fireplace, wrapped up in the soft flannel blanket from the bed. The book sat on the floor beside him, and he was shifting the logs with a long, metal poker. He turned in Martin’s direction and smiled. Lit by warm firelight, nestled in the blanket and one of Martin’s old jumpers, he made for a remarkably homey sight considering where they were.

“How’d it go?” Martin asked, coming to sit beside him.

“I think . . . Well. I hope that he got some peace, in the end.” Jon reached a blanket-swaddled arm across Martin’s back, pulling himself closer and drawing the warmth around him. “Thank you for doing this. It . . . means a lot.”

“You’re welcome,” Martin kissed the top of his head. “But it’s not just for you, you know. It’s a good thing we’re doing, setting them free. It’s the right thing to do.”

Jon nodded, nestling into him. "Did you take a look at the other pages?"

"Yeah. There's only a couple in English, so I figure we'Ll do them first, then I'll start breaking out the books and tapes we brought. If reciting it from memory worked, I might not even have to properly learn Sanskrit if I can pronounce it. Could be fun to try anyway, though."

"I'm still doubtful there'll be anyone who wouldn't rather have their page burned."

"Maybe, maybe not. Seems rude not to ask. And it's not as if we're on a tight schedule here."

"True enough," Jon smiled. "Time is something we'll have lots of. And . . . you're right to want to give them a choice. Even if they choose staying bound to a skin book for eternity."

"Mmm," Martin tried not to think too much about what the pages were made of, knowing he'd need to be handling them. "Anyway . . . looked around the place a bit while you were having your reunion. Whole cellar full of canned goods downstairs, easily a year's worth."

"I doubt they'll ever run out . . . fear of starvation would just distract from the dreadful creep of the endless aeons, after all."

"Mmm. Can always count on you to dispense these little nuggets of sunshine."

"Sorry. Too grim?"

"S'fine."

"We won't be here that long. A few months, a year at most. The others will get us out."

Martin looked into the fire. Any trace of the page thrown into it was long gone now. He hoped that whatever came next for Gerard Keay, it was kinder than what he'd been through.

"Well, if they don’t," he said, wrapping an arm around Jon. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather slowly go mad with than you."

"Nor can I."

[vanchlo]

The Partner / Chapter Ten, "The After"

Word Count: 6.3k /  Story Masterlist /  Read The Assistant /  Read on Wattpad / Song: / Small Bump by Ed Sheeran (click to listen) / Warning: Sensitive and upsetting topics, such as death and miscarriage

"Life is never fair. I’m sure you’re well aware of that."

- Death Parade デス・パレード

Barely could I catch the thoughts that whirred through my skull, one after the other. Neither could I with my breath because with each one, the pain inside of my head grew. It couldn’t compare to what I felt when I turned my head to find the room empty. Becks was gone, somewhere else in this hospital having . . Shaking my head tersely, I let it fall into my hands as my hands shook.

“Get ahold of yourself, Harry,” despite the state of my throat and trembling lips, the muttering comes. The first words I’ve spoken in who knows how long. Yet, they always feel like my last, because this feels never ending, all of this.

I tried it for the third time now, breathing slowly in and out. It doesn’t work any better this time compared to the hundred other attempts. No matter what, I can’t feel better. Cursing, I shoot upright in the chair and fling my head back, staring at the ceiling for yet another few seconds. No, not that either, I think quietly before my eyes fall on it again. It had stared back at me this entire time of waiting, taunting me. Not only did it not seem real, but with each time I found myself looking at, it shouted at me to believe. There, her name sat on the whiteboard clear as day and a whole allotment of other things, but worst of all was The Plan. D&C Surgery at 11:30. I’d already known what it meant, hearing the risks and benefits of the surgery along with Becks earlier from the doctor.

Huffing, I sat forward, resting my elbows on my legs. They fought to stay there as my right leg bounced up and down impatiently. Checking my watch, I swear under my breath, wondering how it’s only been ten minutes. They likely haven’t even started the surgery yet and I’m already wild with worry, and with missing her. Whimpering, my fingers slide back through my hair and root themselves there, my scalp singing with pain as does my heart. For the hundredth time, I think no, this isn’t how it should be. We shouldn’t be here. No, not now. Not for another five months to bring our baby home, but now, we’ll be going home . . empty.

Through a thickness of tears, I watch myself dial the number, blinking the haze away once I press it to my ear. It rings as my heart beats on, aching and dancing against my chest. Words climb up my throat, but I can’t distinguish the right from the wrong, or find the energy to ever say any of them. Yet, I know that I have to and that I need to.

“Hare, hey. I can’t talk long, I’m on recess, but do you have an update on Becky? What’s going on up there?”

“I’m so sorry I had to leave My,” is all that I can manage.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got it covered. Please, just tell me that you’re okay.”

Despite his well intentions, it hits me in the gut. It gets me good and sucking in a breath is harder than before. I try to fight it, but it drapes over me like a blanket that I can’t remove, because I can’t.

“No, My . . I’m not okay. W-We . . . ,” time to work there, lungs. I need you now, do you hear me? One breath. Two breaths. Okay, maybe I can do this. Just maybe. “We lost the baby,” I confess, pinching the bridge of my nose as the sound of cries finds a way past my lips. His silence is replaced by the choked sounds that I make, ones that I let lose to the air. To him.

“Oh, Hare,” he sighs, my heart cracking a little more at his voice. What I hear in it. “I can’t say h-how sorry I am, to you or Becky . . . I-Is there anything I can do?” a pause falls between his words, found in the breath I hear him take to settle himself. It’s the one that I can’t find.

“N-No, if there was I don’t know what it is. Just- I can’t even think about . . about going back to work anytime soon o-or for Becky. She- I don’t know how we’re going to do this, something like this h-has never happened. I-,” my footing is lost and the words fall haphazardly around me, no thought as to how to arrange them.

“Don’t even think about work, okay? Rose and I will take care of it, you don’t have anything to worry about, Hare. J-Just take care of yourself and Becky, and take all of the time the both of you need. I’ll figure out unemployment or something- it’ll be fine, okay?”

“Thanks, My.”

“No need,” he murmurs, words skidding to a stop. “Are you still at the hospital then?” not many other people could tell it, but behind the tears coating my cheeks, I can hear the ones in his voice.

“Yeah, probably for the good part of the day. S-She’s in surgery to . . “

“I’ve heard of the different um, treatments. Jeanie’s sister w-went through the same thing. It’s terrible. Fuck, I’m just- I’m so sorry, Hare,” some divine power breaks his voice on the curse, and if I weren’t sobbing, perhaps I’d find it in me to laugh. “Tell her I’m thinking of her, will you?”

“Of course.”

I wasn’t sure if silence was my friend right now, leaving me to the turbulence of my thoughts, until he interrupted it again. “Have you told anybody else, Hare? I know you, you shouldn’t be alone there, sitting in your thoughts.”

“My mom’s on her way, she w-was in town, so it’s only a matter of time,” I continue, pressing my thumbs against my closed eyes when the next thought arrives. “We . . . We were going to name the baby after her and Becky’s grandma, My. A-Annie. H-How am I going to tell her that?” I nod along with his coming words, my lips pressed together tightly, not letting any words slip past. Tears run over them, tasting of salt and something bitter. Loss. I’m not sure how long I sat there like that after he had to get back to arguing our case, leaving me in my whirlwind of thoughts.

It was all I could do, think. Well, that was before my legs kept me busy and I was walking circles around the room, trying and failing not to do the other thing. A silence had crept into the room long ago and refused to leave, even with the hum of the heating challenging it. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d fallen back onto the chair and gotten up again, fearing I’d never be able to get back up one of these times. No, I knew that I’d fallen off that chair somewhere in my head and didn’t even care to get back on. How could I? I was to become a dad. It was all that I could think about for the last nearly four months, and now- God. Now, I couldn’t stop thinking about how that had been stolen away from me in just a few moments. I woke up this morning, like any other recently, counting down the days to meeting our baby. I never would now.

I was long gone by the time there was a knock on the door, seizing my attention and any last whole piece of my heart that was left. Because when she walked through it, the only other person in the entire world who could make it all better was there.

“Honey, I can’t tell you how sorry I am that . . that t-this is happening,” my mom sobbed, pressing a hand against her mouth after the door closed behind her. I barely blinked and found myself standing, hiding in her welcoming arms.

If my heart hadn’t already fallen through my stomach and to the floor, it did when she brought my head to her chest, muffling my wailing. There was just something about crying on your mom’s shoulder that could never be rivaled, and if I couldn’t be with my Becks, this is where I wanted to be. I didn’t want it, any of this, but it’s like I was three again with an owie, and her hugs made it all better. Except, this time, the relief came and then it trickled away. It didn’t feel . . real, and through my tears, I cried harder, wanting for this one thing to feel real out of it all. But as her blouse grew wet under my cheek, it never came and very swiftly, I gave up on it ever arriving at all.

I couldn’t remember the last word that had passed between us, because all I could hear was the way her thumb drew waves on the back of my hand. All I could see was the hand on the clock ticking slowly with each passing second, and never quickly enough. A blaring of sorts went off in my head when the secondhand fell onto the 6, announcing 12:30. It had been an hour and still, nobody had come.

My Becks hadn’t come back, and neither had the tears. Somehow, they had come and gone with a ferocity that I’d hardly known. No, except for when it was her that I’d almost lost. This time, we actually had suffered a loss, and I wasn’t sure where to begin to process it. I’d lost my grandfather shortly after we’d reconnected and hers passed within a few weeks of knowing each other. Lola had gone in her sleep not long after, but that was the worst of it, if you could even say that. No, I hadn’t lost a parent or came close to it, like she had, but I’d still lost my best friends. I’d almost lost her, and she me, but was there ever anything that leaked similarity to that of losing a child? I couldn’t think of one, and I hadn’t known anybody who’d lost a baby before, I thought as the scribbled words on the whiteboard grew incoherent in front of my eyes.

A pang hit low in my chest when my thoughts dragged me back to that rainy day in February, just right after our first date. Skye had called and my entire world had came crashing down, and the same thing had happened to her not even six months ago. The calendar had only just turned to November then, and I’d only just flipped it to March yesterday. I’d seen it when I’d done it, the small handwriting of my own on next week’s date. ‘4 months w Baby P.’ It came after the stretch of days I’d marked for this case, and if my head wasn’t already in my hands at that, it is now.

I’d asked her, time and time again, if I should take this case, seeing as how I had to leave town to argue it. It’s only a few days and I’ll be fine, Harry, she had insisted, like she always had. She was a stubborn one from the very first day I’d met her, and it had never waned. I’d taken the case and she had helped me on it before leaving to assist Rose with hers, a criminal case that Becks had been interested in. Her and her curiosity of serial murders, but she’d only helped with research after we’d agreed on no high profile cases since . . since we’d found out about the baby. Exhaling, the sensation of pain comes to the front of my mind. Looking down, shocks of scarlet half moons look back at me when I turn over my palm. Gulping, I stretch out my hand before curling my fingers back in, ignoring the chorus of stinging now radicating my palm.

I shouldn’t have taken it, I knew it then and I knew it now. Something had told me not to. No, not with her pregnant. What if something had happened to me again, or to her while I was away? And it did. But I’d brushed the worrisome thoughts away, crediting them to irrational fear that didn’t deserve my time. Now, as I sit here, leaning forward with my elbows on my thighs, I curse myself for not being there. I should have, there’s no question about it. A new warmth gathers in my chest sourly as I imagine, for perhaps the fortieth time, her waking up alone to a nightmare. Blood pooling around her bottom and pain racking her insides as our baby died inside of her. Had it been this morning, last night, or days ago? I had kept wondering about it when Dr. Baker explained that they could have passed within the last few weeks and there was no way to know until her body recognized it, and . . began the process. If I were her, I’d be mad at me for not being there in the bed beside her when she woke. For not being there to drive her to the hospital, but instead, waking up in a bed two hundred miles away, unbeknownst to the storm today would bring. I could have-

“Honey, you have to stop thinking about what you can’t change,” somebody murmurs, weeding their way into my inner monologue. I don’t need to think for a second before knowing who it is, and that of course, they know.

“I’m not thinking about-.”

“Yes, you are. I’ve known you for the last thirty two years, I know how your mind works. How you work, Harry. You’re my baby, I-,” there, her voice breaks as if it’s a thread pulled too tightly, snapping. Something within me does the same, and I feel another chunk of my heart break apart. “I’m sorry, I know how that sounded. I didn’t mean-.”

“I know you didn’t, Mom, but I just- I can’t . . do that word right now,” I retort, pulling away from her touch, soon finding myself staring out the window onto the tops of houses for miles. Her sigh inches in through one of the dozen holes inside of me, taking hold as a rain droplet races down the window. A similar one runs the same race down my cheek. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to snap at you. It’s not you I’m angry at, I could never be. But, I just-,” cutting myself off, her eyes are already waiting on me when I turn around. As always, they’re soft as can be, and forgiving too.

“It’s okay, Harry, you don’t have to apologize to me.”

“I just don’t understand w-why this happened to us, Mom,” I whimper, words shaken by the persistent trembling of my lips. “What did we do to deserve this? Did I do something wrong? Because Becks didn’t. I know I shouldn’t have taken this case- or maybe, this is a punishment for the asshole I used to be. To everybody at work, even to her. I never should have treated her that way. I don’t even deserve her, and maybe I don’t deserve to be a father, either. I’d probably just fuck up their lives like my dad did to me. I-.”

“Harry Styles, you stop talking like that right now,” her voice is firm, something it rarely is. Her voice echoes around the room with its fervor and volume, as does the look in her eyes. “You did nothing to deserve this and neither did Becky. This is none of your fault or hers, it could never be. It’s not because you took a case out of town, or because you mistreated her in the past. That was all so long ago and you have to stop beating yourself up about it, you know that she would tell you the same exact thing . . Honey, you don’t deserve this, either of you. It wasn’t the baby’s fault either, and sadly, there’s nothing you could’ve done to stop it or to know it would’ve happened. You have to stop blaming yourself,” she finishes, rainboots stopping in front of me. I almost want to laugh at the pink butterflies covering them and the squelching sounds they make, but it’s far away now.

What isn’t far away is the warmth in her eyes and how it tries to thaw me from the inside out. The very thing that Becky had done to me all of those years ago, changing me from the icicle I was to the person I am now. Somebody that I hated I ever was to her with the things I said and did.

“How am I supposed to tell her that wh-when I don’t even believe it myself, Mom?” I whisper, feeling the weight pull at my words. “Sh-She’s going to blame herself, I know she already does. She thinks she did something wrong o-or that she didn’t love them enough. H-How . . How do I fix her, Mom?”

Shaking her head, for the first time, my mother doesn’t have a word of wisdom to feed me. Standing there, a storm paving its path outside and one having its way with my insides, I try to think of my mom never not having an answer for me. Until now.

“I’ve never suffered a miscarriage, honey . . but I’m not sure how you can fix her. I don’t think that you can or that you should try to. That’s something that she has to do on her own. When your dad and I divorced, it was one of the worst times of my life. Not even right afterwards, but for years before that, knowing what was happening to us . . You just- you have to be there for her, give her space when she wants it, and take care of yourself too. Sometimes, you have to be there when she doesn’t want you to be- I know it’s confusing, but you just have to do your best, honey. You will be okay, maybe not today or next month, but you will find it one day . . I’ll always miss my father and the family that I’ve lost, even my marriage to your father, but I still can find happiness. Everybody grieves differently and in their own way, and it’s okay however you may feel. That’s what matters, to feel it. Don’t hide in your work, Harry, . . or alcohol . . I know you’ve done that before with losing Becky the first time and then, your grandfather. Focus on the things that bring you happiness and take the time you need to heal. You’re going to want to ignore it and not feel it, but you need to . . A-And I don’t know how to say this without sounding insensitive, because nothing could ever replace this baby, but when you’re both ready, you can . . . you know what I mean.”

Pools of tears had collected on the front of my button down long ago, and they only grew wetter now. Heavier. Blinking, I secretly longed for sleep as I ruminate on her words, knowing that she always had an answer for everything. Her own kind of answer. Licking my lips, I part them to speak an answer, but another sound beats me to it. All words are lost when I hear the knock on the door and its opening creak.

“Harry? It’s Dr. Baker,” a voice says. It’s as if a switch was flipped inside of me, and all I can think about is her again. Becks.

“H-Hi. Did everything go alright?” I stammer, turning my body to face the doctor who walks in wearing the same scrubs, a blue cap now fastened around her hair.

“Yes,” she smiles, clutching a clipboard to her chest, making me wonder. “Becky’s out of surgery and everything went just as planned. She’s been in recovery for a while now as she comes out of anesthesia. I suspect she’ll be waking up soon and I think that you should be there when she does. She’s still going to be pretty groggy, but I can take you there now, if you’d like.”

“Y-Yes, of course. Please, I’ve been worried sick about her,” I express, swiping at my cheeks hastily. Remembering my mom, I turn back to her and hug her quickly, hearing her encouraging words in my ear as I follow the doctor to the door.

There I stop when she turns around, a misty look in her eye, “I can’t remember if I’ve said it, but I can’t say how sorry I am to you and Becky, Harry. It’s been such a joy to be with you both on this journey. It’s always my favorite to work with new parents, and to see their excitement . . I’m so sorry for your loss. It’s never easy when one of my patients loses a baby,” Dr. Baker says, forcing a smile as she blinks away the tears filling her eyes.

“Wow, um- thank you so much, from both Becky and I,” is all that I can find to say, especially when I find her hugging me. It’s brief but it knocks the wind out of me, for the hundredth time today. No, I’d never found my way back to breathing safely ever since that phone call. As I stare back at her, both of us lost for words, a few of mine creep out. “How are we supposed to do this? I never imagined this would happen . . I’ve always wanted to make her happy, and now . . I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know how we’ll get past this, especially her.”

Nodding, she remains silent save for the way she pats my shoulder, “You’re already doing a great job, a much better one than some of the partners I’ve seen this happen to. You two have something special and that’s what gets you through terrible things like this. You’ll be okay. It may not be for a long time, and I’ll tell you the truth, you’ll always miss them, but you’ll be okay.”

I’m unsure of what else to do but nod my head and follow her out of the room. We turn right and find an elevator, and the moment’s lost. As the numbers fall a few and an electronic beeping fills the small space, she begins to read from her chart. They pass through one ear and out the other, her words about care. It’s only when we’re walking off the elevator and I know that I’m nearing Becks, do the words register with me. I’ll get to take her home later today, once everything is looking good. She’s blunt at times and I think I appreciate it. She’s going to be in some pain, but she’ll prescribe medication and the like to keep Becky comfortable, and it makes me feel like just maybe I can breathe again. It only lasts until she’s honest that she needs to rest as much as possible, and that depression is a danger after something like this. This will all be written down and sent home with us she says, but that for right now, I should go and be with my fiance, she says when we stop in front of a closed door. One that I know Becks is behind this very moment, waiting for me. I won’t keep her any longer, I’ve done it too many times to count now.

I’m not sure which hurt worse, that first time seeing her clinging to life after her accident, or finding her peacefully asleep knowing what had just happened. No, they each hurt in their own unique way, different than the next. I could hardly think about then, knowing the misery that overtook me, and a similar one now as I realized again what we’d lost. We’d lost our child, our baby. In a way, it still didn’t seem real, even as I sat beside her and took her hand in mine. Tears had already begun to paint my face and my lip quivered quicker at the thought of falling back into that hole. This time, there wouldn’t be a ‘phew, that was close’ moment. No, I’d missed that entirely. It had never been a possibility that things would be okay. I’d known it somehow from the second she called me sobbing, because she knew too. Our baby was already gone.

As I tried and failed to swallow past the unmoving lump in my throat, everything was difficult. Seeing clearly was and even when I did, I wasn’t sure I wanted to, just like before. I couldn’t rub the top of her hand with my thumb, because the IV and its tape were in the way. Her rings were gone, and it was unsettling for me, seeing her without her grandma’s two rings, and her engagement ring. The labored sound of her breathing was what occupied my ears, that is if the turning wheel of thoughts wasn’t already.

It went on and on as I watched her sleep, chest rising and falling with each breath assisted by the nasal cannula. It wasn’t long before my fingers were caught in her hair and I was just grateful that she was still here. I sat there, trying to be grateful but it was something I could hardly manage. Of course, I was more than happy that she was still here, but this isn’t how any of it was supposed to go. I was supposed to be a few hours north arguing and winning a case with Myles. She was supposed to spend the day with my sister and her kids, painting nails and making cookies with Harper. Now, what was going to happen? I had no idea at all and there was no pretending that it didn’t absolutely terrify me.

A few minutes later, my heart squeezed when she stirred and her eyes fluttered open, searching the room until they found me. It crumpled when a lazy smile came to her lips and she yawned.

“Hi, Harry.”

“Hi, buggie. How are you feeling?” I murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes.

“I’m so tired. Mmmmm,” she sighed. A heaviness clung to her eyes and I knew it wouldn’t be long before she succumbed to it. I wished for it, almost.

“You in any pain, bug?”

“No, why would I be?” she almost giggled, letting her eyes fall shut. The doctor had warned me about this before I walked in, saying she may be a little loopy from the anesthesia. I welcomed it now, dreading the return to reality and all that it would bring. The heartache, something I didn’t want her to experience. “I’m going back to sleep. You’re boring.”

“Sweet dreams, Becks,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to her head as the smile faded on her lips. Sniffling, a tear collected at the point of my nose, knowing that the next time she woke up, it would be real again for her. An ache began in my chest just at the thought, knowing what was to come. God, how are we going to do this, I wondered silently and yet ever so loudly as I put my head in my hands, sure there wasn’t a God at all.

I wasn’t certain what it was that I noticed when I first woke up. Was it the electronic beeping that I know too well? My own labored breathing? The odd smell of the place around me? Or was it the warmth around my hand, the only of its kind as a coldness covered the rest of me? The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was him, and the way he brightened. There wasn’t any pause from reality or waiting for it to hit me, because it already had. The look on his face said it for me, if I didn’t already know. No, the moment I woke up I did.

“Hi, buggie. How are you feeling?” Harry murmurs, cupping my cheek with his hand. It looks as if he’d just woken up from a nap himself, but it’s hard to tell for long as he grows blurry in front of me. “Oh, Becks honey.”

“No,” the word repeats from my lips, the weirdest of tastes in my mouth, but it doesn’t compare to the rest of me. More emptiness greets me when my hand darts to my stomach, and I know. “I was supposed to wake up . . . this was all supposed to be a nightmare, and I’d wake up and . . and it’d all be okay. The baby- would be okay,” I wail, overcome by the shaking of my chest as words fight their way out. He’s a blur of movements in front of me, and I don’t know what he’s doing until I feel him beside me.

“I’m here, Becks. I’m here. I’m so sorry, honey,” his voice breaks, and it only makes my hand press harder to my stomach, knowing what isn’t there anymore. Who. “I wish you would have woken up from this nightmare too, that we both could have. It shouldn’t be like this, any of it, and I’m so sorry.”

“I-It’s not your fault,” I whisper, feeling the assault of my tears already coat his neck where I hide my face. He’s careful, moving around the tubing and managing to wrap himself around me in this small bed.

“And it’s not yours, either, bug.”

“It feels l-like it, Harry,” I confess, my hands beginning to cramp at the way I ball his shirt up in my hands. “I should’ve known something might happen . . my feeling. I-It’s my own body, how did I not know something was wrong?”

“It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known, Becks. The doctor said so. You did everything right - you took all the vitamins, ate good, exercised- you did nothing wrong.”

I try to listen and soak up his words like a sponge, but I don’t feel like one for that. It’s as if I’m a mirror instead, reflecting what he says without taking it in. Shaking my head back and forth, I fight for breath as everything comes back to me. Waking up from the pain and feeling the wetness between- squeezing my eyes shut tightly, I try to forget but I can’t. Nor can I push away the silence when the doctor pressed the ultrasound wand to my abdomen, even though I knew it. I had been hoping I’d be wrong, that my feeling was incorrect for once, but it wasn’t. It never is.

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s nobody’s fault. Not yours, not mine, not . . not the baby’s. We can’t blame ourselves, Becks,” his insisting words dance across my head and into my eyes, but I can’t believe them. I wish that I could, lying there feeling like an empty shell, unable to take my hand away from my stomach. But I do, I want to say and yet, I can’t find my voice. It’s somewhere hiding in my loud cries against his shoulder.

Until, my cries took the time to fall silent, and I’m not. Instead, I’m staring into the darkness hiding in the place where his neck and shoulder meet. The faintest of light lives there and if I could see the pattern to his shirt or the bedsheets, I don’t. Nor can I hear the song he sings to me. I can, but not the words soft from his lips, or the sweet things he assures me with. A never ending stream still leaves my eyes, but the ferocity of them has left, and I’ve never felt this empty.

He still whimpered above me when he turned on the tv and I heard the familiar voices of the Friends. I fought between hearing them and Harry’s singing, unable to move from where I was, even when the doctor came in after a while. A different softness had arrived in her voice, but I still refused to move from my favorite hiding place. It was everything I expected to hear, and yet, as I thought about how this was never how today was supposed to go, it wasn’t. He was the first one to break down when she announced she’d found out the gender from some kind of tests I didn’t understand. I remained quiet, and it grew deeper as he sobbed louder when she revealed if we had lost a son or daughter. I couldn’t decide, lying there motionless in his arms, if I had wanted to know. I already did in a way, but when she said it, something resonated inside of me as his heart broke inside of him. Again.

I hadn’t realized that she’d left or that he was talking to me, so removed from this world and in one entirely my own. Why should I return to that one, a world that had hurt me too many times for me to ever count? It had taken away the love of my life on several accounts, and tried to do so permanently. It had pitted us against each other day after day, and now, it had . . it had made our child die inside of me. I couldn’t come back to it but as the sound of his cries found purchase on something inside of me, they grew louder.

“A d-daughter, Becks. We were supposed to have a little girl,” his voice trembled, harder than ocean waves crashing against rocks. Somehow, my own voice was completely still- no, it was absent altogether. It took a walk down that same beach tens of minutes ago, and I was unsure of when it’d come back.

His body shook against my rigid one, and as he took the turn to drench my neck with tears, I lifted my head for the first time from his neck. Opening my eyes was something I didn’t think I could do ten minutes ago or even one, but I did and pointed them at the tv. Harry’s sobs filled my ears and so did the Friends’ voices. Relaxing my hands against his back, a tiredness had taken hold of me long ago. Now, I watched as their story unfolded beside ours as he buried his face in my hair, sobbing for our daughter. Something that I suddenly couldn’t do, and I didn’t even know why.

I despised it, the stillness that had surrounded us and refused to leave. It sat there, even as Harry’s snores threatened it, but it had already claimed me. It found it way inside of me, lying there in that hospital bed beside him, hooked up to beeping machines. Remain it did, when I pretended to listen to the care instructions of the doctor when she returned yet again. It consumed the space between us in the car, even with my hand tucked into his for the entirety of the ride home.

I couldn’t decide if stillness was my friend or my foe as I lay in the downstairs guest bedroom beside him later that night. The sounds of him sleeping had begun long ago, after showers for the both of us and a takeaway dinner I’d hardly eaten. I barely tasted the potatoes and beef of the pot roast meal, or felt the hot water kiss my body. The numbness that had filled my bones when the tears had stopped melts away, thawing into wetness that glides down my cheek. The clock reading midnight stared back at me as my throat tightened, my heart jumping back up it, as I gasped for air. It had been twelve hours since . . since we’d lost our baby. Next, it would be a day, and then . . Curling up into a ball, at last the stillness vanished as every part of me shook with feeling. Every ounce of it returned to me, overdue from the parts of today that I didn’t feel.

His own stillness frightened me, because I couldn’t feel this alone, and as much as I hated to wake him from his ignorant dreams, I had to. Sobbing his name, I scooched across the foreign bed until I was forcing my way into his arms. His snoring halted and then came a sigh.

“Becks,” he murmured, voice drenched with sleep. He moaned while stirring, opening his arms for me. A quietness came to him as my sobs grew in volume, soon finding a place against his chest. “I’m here, buggie. I’m here.”

“But our baby’s not. Wh-Why?” I weeped, feeling the warm metal of his necklace against my cheek. He held me against him, arms snug around me as every bit of stillness left my body. “They’re gone. I just shut down and- our daughter’s gone.”

“I know, honey. I know,” sorrow weighed down on every one of his words. My lips stung from pressing them together so tightly, singing from relief when I chased breaths.

“She’s g-gone . . Why can’t I wake up from this nightmare? I-It’s not fair, Harry, it’s not fair. We don’t deserve this,” every word wicked more strength from me. At last, I relaxed pliantly against him, giving up. “I wanted s-so badly to be her mom, it’s not fair. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not, Becks. It’s not fair at all . . I wish I could fix it all for you, honey. I’ve never not been able to, but please, don’t disappear from me like that again. You wouldn’t hardly talk to me or look at me. I- I can’t lose you too, buggie,” he cried, sniffles adorning his words as tears filled them.

“I’ll try. I don’t know where I went. It’s like I went somewhere else, because . . because I don’t want to do this. Any of it. I can’t,” they’re the last words that I speak, muffled against his bare chest.

He fell back asleep first, his hand slowly dancing along my back until it stopped, but still I laid there, thinking. It was a long while until I joined him, hoping I’d get to dream about our daughter again, knowing that’s the only place I’d see her.

[winter-soldier-vibes]

Empty Words (Bucky x reader)

Empty words (Based on the song by Beth Crowley)

Bucky Barnes X reader 

Warnings: Break-up, tearing apart your room, angst (not with Bucky), comfort (with Bucky)

Word count 1924

Summary: Reader goes through a rough break-up and calls her friend Bucky to help her.

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

“Look, I just need some time to think things over okay? I just need some time to myself,” they said. You shook your head. You knew what they meant. They weren’t trying to find themselves. They were trying to find someone else. “I should go,” they said.

You started pleading with them. “Please, don’t leave! Stay - don’t go, please…” It was as if you weren’t saying anything. they didn’t acknowledge you, just kept walking towards the door. “Is this really what you want?!” you yelled. They just slammed the door.

You were crying, and let out a few sobs. You began frantically walking around the room, anger boiling your blood. You tossed photographs across your apartment, breaking the frames. You threw a lamp on the ground, punched a hole in the wall...you looked around at the apartment. Shattered glass covered the floor, along with pieces of furniture splayed about. You didn’t even remember pushing them. Or throwing them, if that’s what had happened. The pain didn’t register until you looked down at your hands and bare feet, bleeding from the shards of glass. 

You began crying harder and sunk to the floor up against the wall. You don’t know how long you sat there, but the sun had since set. Hands shaking, you pulled out your phone and dialed your best friend. Bucky.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings -

“Hello?” a tired voice answered. 

Your throat went dry, and you just kept sniffling. “Bucky…” you said weakly.

He sat up, any exhaustion gone from his body. “Y/n? What happened?”

You just started crying harder. You couldn’t find any of the right words to say, and the tears wouldn’t stop long enough to form a full sentence. Bucky pushed himself out of his bed and reached for his shoes. “Y/n, where are you? Are you at your place?”

You nodded, forgetting for a moment that he couldn’t see you. “Yeah,” you croaked out.

“I’ll be right there.”

He hung up and came out of his room, running through the compound to the garage. He threw himself into the car that corresponded with the key he had stolen from the place where Stark kept them - he’d deal with him later. He sped out into the streets, making his way to your house. What could have possibly happened at 2 in the morning to make you this upset? Why had you called him and not your partner? Realization set in to Bucky and he hardened. This better not have anything to do with them.

It must have only been 5 minutes since he had hung up, but to you it felt like hours. When he finally knocked on the door, you managed to say “Come in.”

When he opened the door, his face paled at the image in front of him. What the hell had happened? He called out your name and you whimpered in your corner, his eyes landing on you after following the sound. He stepped over the broken glass, not concerned with it at the moment. He came over and crouched in front of you. His heart broke at the sight of your bleeding extremities and your shaking frame. 

“Hey, it’s me. y/n, look at me.” he said.

You met his gaze, and he saw just how much pain was in your gaze. He wrapped his arms around you and cradled your head against his chest. “Shh, it’s alright,” he whispered. He took a deep breath. “What happened doll?”

Your eyes started tearing up again as you tried to speak. “they...they left...I begged them to...but they…”

Bucky hushed you again, getting the point and not wanting to upset you any further. The two of you sat there for a while, him helping you try to calm down and you trying to process what had happened.

“Why don’t they want me?” you whispered.

Bucky felt his heart lurch. “Because they’re a bastard who doesn’t know what they have even though it’s right in front of them.” He swallowed. “They don’t deserve you.”

“Then why do I feel like it’s the other way around?”

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, your cries dying down into numbness and exhaustion. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked.

You simply nodded, not wanting to be alone right now. “Can we go somewhere else?” you asked. You didn’t want to wake up to this tomorrow. He agreed and picked you up, carrying you back to the car. When he started it, you noticed just exactly how early it was. It was now just after 3 in the morning, and you wondered how all that time had passed.

The drive back to the tower was silent, Bucky not wanting to make you relive tonight and you being too numb to. He helped you inside and up to his room, trying to be as quiet as possible so you didn’t wake anyone. You fell back onto the bed and curled up in a ball on your side, trying to shut everything out. 

You slept the entire next day.

You stayed for about a week, not feeling up to facing your own home again quite yet. You cycled between feeling the emotions too heavily to being too numbed out to care about anything. As the days passed, you numbed out more and more. You were starting to believe what Bucky had told you, that the person who had broken your heart wasn’t worth your time or energy.

You finally decided that you were okay to go back to your house. You’d have to face it sooner or later, and the mess wasn’t going to get any smaller. Bucky offered to come with you, but you told him you’d be alright on your own. You were starting to go back to your normal self again, and you didn’t think the memories would be too painful.

You walked in the door to everything you did that night. It was now that you realized the extent that you lost it. There was more shattered glass on the floor than patches where the floor was clear, most of the furniture was overturned, pictures were everywhere and the frames were in broken pieces everywhere else, and you had no idea where to start.

Great.

You decided to start with the glass, walking over to the closest to grab your broom and a pan to sweep it into. You made your way through the room, sweeping up everything that was broken and putting the pictured on the counter. You’d decide if you wanted to keep them later. After the floor was clear you started turning the furniture right side up and putting it back in its place. 

This entire process only took about an hour, but you were wiped out. The memories, despite your resistance, did start flooding back in. it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be, you were able to push away the pain of them relatively quickly. 

You decided to watch something on Netflix to get a few laughs in before you called it a night. Flipping through your options, you settled on your favorite show and had your finger on the play button, when there was a knock on the door.

You groaned. Seriously?

You put the remote back on the table and walked over to the door. It was probably just Bucky because you probably forgot something back at the tower.

You were not expecting it to be the person who walked out on you a week ago. 

“Hey,” they said with a smile, letting themselves in. It was as if nothing had happened. You tensed and froze a little. You crossed your arms and turned to them. “What are you doing here?” you asked coldly.

They sat on the armrest of the sofa, facing you. “I - I’m sorry. Look, I never should have walked out that door. I love you, and I shouldn’t have left in the first place. Everything I need is right here,” they stood making his way over to you. “Can you forgive me?”

You kept your face expressionless. You weighed your options. You were finally starting to move on, you had cut your losses with them. You thought of them as some asshole who didn’t really care about you in the first place. Yet here they were again.

“You think it’s that easy?” you asked, walking away and turning your back on them.

They scoffed a little, turning back to you. “Y/n, I fucked up. I’m sorry. Just give me another chance. I can change, I’ll be what you want me to be. Just tell me what you want from me.”

You laughed dryly turning back to them. “I wanted you to not leave in the first place! I wanted you to listen to me begging you to stay. I wanted you to not throw away what we had. I wanted to know you loved me.” you shook your head. “You had your chance to give me what I wanted. Now? I want you to leave.”

They stepped toward you again. “Don’t do this y/n.”

“Do what? Exactly what you did to me?” you shook your head. “I’m sure that there will be someone else you can fool with your words. Go find her. She’s out there somewhere. But you won’t find her here”

“I swear, I’ll do anything -”

“Yeah, those are just empty words. What about the next time? You’ll say this is the last time until it happens again. So just do us both a favor and move on. “

They shook his head, anger dancing in their eyes. “You’ll be sorry y/n. You’ll change your mind and I won’t be there anymore. You’re nothing without me.

You shook your head. “Say whatever you want. Nothing you say could ever hurt me again. I know better than to waste my time on you. I’ll find someone who knows what they have when they have it. So, I’ll ask you again: go.” You even surprised yourself with your words. You weren’t really thinking about what you were saying, the words were just coming out. And from their reaction, he wasn’t expecting it either.

They opened and closed his mouth a few times, anger and confusion fighting each other on their face. Finally their face hardened again and they walked out just like they had before, making sure to slam it behind them.

You let out a breath you hadn’t known you had been holding and sat back on the couch. Did that really just happen? Were you happy with yourself? Were you proud? Disappointed? Did you actually want this? Was that the right decision?

You shook your head. No. you were not going to let them back in. You had already mourned once, they wasn’t worth a second round. But still… No. You were better off without them. You were sure of that now, thanks to Bucky's help.

You felt your heart tug a little bit. Bucky had been so kind to you and made you feel better about yourself than anyone else had in your entire life. You pulled out your phone to send him a text.

Hey, you still free? Turns out I don’t want to be alone after all.

He texted back almost instantly

Be right there. You ok?

You smiled as you responded

Never been better.

[davidmann95]

So... Crossover #1: any thoughts?

Anonymous said: You seemed not to think much of Crossover #1 on Twitter. Your full thoughts?

wcwit said: So Cates' Crossover #1, best bad comic of the year or just regular pretentious trash?

An incidental note upfront: What you’re seeing there is the apparently SUPER-RARE SECRET VARIANT COVER I unwittingly picked up at the store - at first glance indistinguishable from the standard cover, the kid getting four-color-fucked by mysterious comic book rays is in fact themselves reading a variant cover of the book, rather than the main cover again in an infinite painting-within-a-painting sort of deal that’s the standard.

So I wasn’t gonna get this: my initial post on the comic and what an obviously awful idea it was back when we only knew half the premise and it was known as Pray The Capes Away actually got some out-of-nowhere traction recently, and I’ve grown rapidly tired of Cates’ Marvel work. Even learning that it was going to be Image’s biggest debut in decades - Jesus fuck, how and why - mostly just made me wish it was Commanders in Crisis getting those kinds of numbers. But Sean Dillon/@deathchrist2000 and Ritesh Babu both got early looks at it and assured me that I, specifically, needed to see the last page, so in I dove. I’ll be posting my reaction to the last page below because I recorded it for their amusement, and below that I’ll talk about said last page. It may surprise you, however, that that wasn’t my main takeaway from the issue.

Let’s accentuate the positive first! This book is gorgeous. Geoff Shaw was terrific back with Thanos Wins, but this is an incredible stylistic level-up aided and abetted by Dee Cunniffe’s colors: it’s rote as hell to say “They mix the elevated and the mundane so well!”, but even beyond the obvious ben-day dots stuff there’s such a tangible sense that the comic book beings don’t belong here, that they’re of higher, misty, platonic stuff and we squishy non-paper-people inevitably crumble and break and bleed in their wake, communicating that big idea so much more powerfully than the actual loads of text on the subject. And if we’re talking good things, I’ll concede it’s possible that there could be subtleties that play out in more interesting ways as it goes on, and that not everything is meant to be taken at face value: a smart friend who actually did like it mentioned being interested in it as clumsy but potentially effective exploration of ‘what if the fun hobby you had inadvertently became contaminated and stigmatized by forces beyond your control?’ In a post-Comicsgate world where we recently ended up inches away from the Superman logo almost certainly becoming a fascist propaganda symbol ala the Punisher skull for at least a generation, that’s a defensible lens to view this book through.

For all Donny Cates’ legitimate talents however, I don’t think an expectation of subtlety is gonna work out with this one.

Okay first off getting into the rest of it the main characters’ name is Ellipsis because “Those three little dots...they can become anything”, so there’s that. More importantly, in the world of this story where comic fans face social oppression after superpeople materialize and fuck up Colorado, they face EVERY KIND OF OPPRESSION: there are clear parallels drawn in here to the violence and harassment faced by people persecuted for their religion, people seeking abortions, queer people, and people of color; this motherfucker even drops a “hates and fears” to let us know comic collecting basically makes you one of the goddamn X-Men. Which in theory could be a purely misjudged allegory rather than stemming from actual, obscenely inflated to the point of disgusting fears of ‘nerd oppression’, except that the book literally opens with a quote from Wertham. If Cates didn’t want to make the message “Hating comics? That’s bad. Like, racism bad”, he utterly, grotesquely failed by inextricably intermingling imagery of real-world bigotry with systemic, deluded fanboy paranoia, at least as of this first issue that’s supposed to meaningfully convey the premise. As a queer dude I think I’m somewhat in my lane to say it’s too blunt and broad and dopey to be particularly offensive, but the co-opting of oppression is what this is rooted in.

The idea of ‘comics good no matter what people think, ain’t it?’ extends to the last traditional local comic store standing in this world: much as superheroes are the primary cause of suffering in this world but the point of the story is still supposed to reveal the beauty in them, part of this is that the comics community isn’t perfect but it sure is great. Which is expressed here via Ellie’s boss Otto, a loveable asshole who yells at people coming in trying to sell the wrong kind of comics to fuck off, but at heart is we’re supposed to understand a good enough dude that the shop he runs is “the only home a lot of (the benighted nerds) have left” (because I guess in this alternate universe the physical stores are still the main hub through which comics fans talk with one another?).

So here’s a story of my very own! That’s me in 2013, it must’ve been some kind of special day because I’m wearing a shirt with a button. I’d at that point only frequented one of what would be my thus far four regular comic shops. The first was a great place, and while to say I had a sense of community there would be overstating it a bit, I was on really good terms with the owner and we regularly chatted when we had the time. When I left for college my store there wasn’t as well-stocked, and for some damn reason all variant covers were double-price, but I got along really well with the owner there too. The third I wasn’t so lucky; the guy regularly behind the desk was never overtly hostile, but clearly wanted to wring my neck every time I asked when a missing comic might get in or if I could update my pull list, and given I’m in the ‘ideal’ demographic for being a comic book store regular and was dropping a solid lump of money there every week, I wonder how others were treated there (the store nearly went under, was saved on the last day of operation by another store that wanted to incorporate it as part of its franchise, then shortly afterwards DID go under and is now I believe a beef jerky place). My current store is fine, I didn’t chat much with the folks behind the counter even before we all had medical incentive to get in and out of places fairly quickly but it almost always has what I’m looking for.

Just because those were my regular stores of course doesn’t mean those are the only ones I’ve ever gone to. About a year before that picture was taken - it’s the closest I could find - when I was 17 my store didn’t have something or another I was looking for, so I head across town to see if another place I had looked up had it. This other place didn’t have what I was looking for either, though I distinctly remember picking up a few issues of Hickman’s FF while I was there since I had foolishly fallen off, hence my remembering the year. I bought a couple issues, but hung around for a bit looking to see if I might grab something else out of a dollar box, setting my comics down. Without realizing it, I’d set my books down on top of another issue, and when I decided I wasn’t getting anything else, I just picked that up along with the rest of the pile and was about to walk out before the owner stopped me. He explained what I had done though assumed it had been deliberate, and because I was a good-hearted little geek I even recall thinking “Well, he’s gonna chew me out, but I guess I deserve it. I’ll try and take this to heart as a learning experience.”

Then he pulled up his shirt a little to show me the gun on his belt. He pointed at the security camera monitors at his desk, and explained to me that if I ever did something like that again, he would have it on tape, and he would pull that gun on me and hold me there while he called the cops.

As it turned out, the comic was free.

The whole thing was so sudden and bizarre and unexpected I didn’t actually freak out until the drive home. It wasn’t until weeks or maybe months later that I managed to tell my dad about the experience, because I *had* nearly stolen a (free) comic and my guilt was mixed in with my nerves and I guess I was somehow too close to register just how disproportionate his response was. It wasn’t until now, nearly a decade later and thinking about it for the first time in a long time as I write this, that I wondered if that might have gone differently - especially living in the midwest - if I hadn’t been a white, squeaky-voiced 17-year-old.

So, minor spoiler, when our cantankerous but well-meaning LCS owner yells to call the cops and grabs and yells at a small kid for pocketing a comic (and later displays fantasy racism towards said kid), I am not filled with nostalgic love for the brotherly safe space that is comic book stores, where this guy while not meant to be seen as perfect is still framed in part as a charming, witty representation of Why We Love These Places, And This Community, And This Genre, And This Medium. Cates is clearly drawing on real time at his local stores, but he equally clearly has a very different takeaway from those experiences than me. And I am, again, in a demographic - white, cis-male, abled, bi but more interested in women, disposable income, a lifelong collector - that the industry and a lot of the guys who sell it to us contort themselves around catering to, even if I had a single very negative experience and later an ongoing low-key uncomfortable one to help disabuse me of any notions of the purity of the dork community. In the world of Crossover as of #1, toxicity is intertwined, deliberately or not on the part of the creators, with what we love on the cosmic and small business scales alike, but at least in the latter case it’s the whole picture that’s beautiful, not any single kernel that needs to be worked on to be dug up.

So underneath is my video reaction to the last page of Crossover #1. Very minor spoilers because I mutter the last two words of the comic to myself, but under the video I discuss said final page and some other scattered thoughts. Whether you read that or not, my takeaway is this: I’m fascinated with wherever the hell this thing is going, I’m glad my dad liked it well enough to want to keep getting it because now I’ll get to see where it heads, but my first impression is that this is at heart meant as cheapass Oscar-bait for people who only read Batman. It’s big and high-concept but also small and intimate! It’s meta and about how great you, the reader are for your consumption, especially the consumption of this! It’s going to be in large part about a forbidden love between a couple divided across impermeable social lines (a couple where they’re a seemingly straight white man and woman, but one likes comics)! Maybe it’ll become Not That, and I’m sure it’ll do at least something interesting along the way because Cates has done good stuff before and there are some inherently interesting big ideas for him to play with here, but for the love of god if you’re thinking about getting this buy Commanders in Crisis too or instead, it’s another new book out of Image about superheroes dealing with the collapse of the multiverse but that one is really fucking good.

So the final page splash reveal is that when the comic book child discovered in here got out of Colorado, which has had an impenetrable energy shield erected around it by one of the heroes for years, she and others were ferried out of there...by Superman, as the narration declares that “This is a story...about hope.” They don’t say the word, but she sketches her savior, Ellie and Otto freak out and go “Is that---” when they see it, and on that last page we see that while a crude drawing it isn’t a rough analogue character, it’s a guy with a cape and trunks with an S on his chest. Surprisingly, I don’t have much to say: it’s just another blunt signifier that superheroes rule and are the best, paired with the most utterly devalued notion as of late of what makes Superman special in ‘hope’. I mean, I’m perversely excited to see whether this is building the entire series on a hook it can never deliver on, or if Cates actually has talked DC into an intercompany crossover; believable given they’ve done a bunch of those over the last several years, and why else would Mark Waid be supervising as ‘story editor’ on this? I guess it’ll shake out one way or another with #6 given Cates has said it “has one of the more epic and — I would argue historic — sequences in comic book history in it.” But I’m far less convinced this is gonna truly go into the meaty question of “What does Superman mean and what makes him unique in this world where superheroes in general are indisputably either failures or monstrous bastards given the scale of destruction their presence has brought about, and he himself failed to stop that?” than as some kind of holy grail of how great superheroes are despite how dang violent they’ve gotten these days for the crew to chase after, whatever additional twist will surely be placed upon it. At least he’s kinda helping an immigrant kid get over a wall, if that’s deliberate?

Random final thoughts:

* If I wrote the opening essay and turned it in in a college course, I would be expelled for plagiarizing Grant Morrison. This is not a joke.

* If mainstream American superhero comics ended January 2017 in this universe, its own last ‘crossover’ was Civil War II, which is hilarious.

* God, please tell me if it takes the dive after all that this isn’t somehow tied into whatever Waid’s Superman project is.

* I wouldn’t normally crap on issues with the finer details of worldbuilding, but A. This is rooted in a nominally ‘real’ world playing by recognizable rules, B. I’m ragging on this anyway so what’s the harm, and C. It’s really obvious. So: Why is one of the racists against the superheroes the guy who loves superheroes so much he’s the last holdout in the entire world still selling comic books about them? How does this modestly-sized shop exist long-term with apparently a significant regular customer base if there are no new comics or even reprints to restock with, ever? Who’s buying the serialized cop/cowboy comics that the U.S. government apparently created pretty much overnight (nobody, it’s just another Wertham dig)?

* The solicit for issue #3 proclaims “Don't miss this one, folks. If you do, it just might drive you...mad.”, so now I fear some kind of Ultra Comics riff.

* “Kids love chains” is the most metal-ass quote of all time and I hate that it’s being wasted as an arc title on this book.

[barnesbabee]

Edge Of Glory || C.J

Pairing: Choi Jongho x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Words: Idk but from the top of my head I’d bet on 3126 words

Pieces of lyrics from the song are written in bold

⚠ drug abuse, mentions of physical/psychological abuse (not from the idol), mentions of death and suicide, dystopian!au ⚠

Warning: There are disturbing/ scenes described. Read at your own risk.

ᴀᴛᴇᴇᴢ x ʟᴀᴅʏ ɢᴀɢᴀ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ || ᴘ4

ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴇᴅɢᴇ ᴏꜰ ɢʟᴏʀʏ ᴍᴠ

 A worldwide pandemic took all nations by surprise, one worse than any century had ever experienced, one that all safety precautions, medicine and technology couldn’t fight. It came down onto the whole world like a train and the population decreased greatly, along with all of the resources. 

   Hazmats became the trending fashion and hospitals became the new hotels. Everything was at max capacity, and the bodies of deceased people piled up on the streets. Pale corpses that looked like they had been drained of all of their blood laid against the walls, on top of each other, or sprawled on the road. It was every man for themselves, and chaos dominated.

    You were a little relieved, however. Your parents wouldn’t allow you to leave the house for safety, but every time you looked out of the window every deceased person seemed to be of age, more specifically, a mature adult. Mostly people from their thirties on. 

    Maybe it didn’t affect younger people? Maybe their immune system was good enough to fight the disease? 

   You had many doubts, but not enough answers. No one had answers, and suddenly everyone had a God. When nurses and doctors fled, when the news disappeared and it all stopped being transmitted, everyone started praying, ironically.

    Your parents were jittery and nervous all the time, but that was a normal reaction, they had seen and experienced the outside world. You felt safe in their presence, although seeing them come in the house in the yellow suits kind of scared you.

    Months were spent in this routine, and all seemed normal (within the limits). One day, however, you were woken up by loud banging on the front door. You immediately stood up from bed, a little dizzy from the sudden movement, and wobbled over to your door. You pressed your ear against the wooden door to hear whatever went on downstairs. You had never gotten visitors…

    You heard the downstairs door creak open and a male, harsh, demanding voice spoke.

    “Any kids in?” He simply asked.

   “N-no, Sir. We’ve never been able to have kids.”

    You frowned at the shaky voice. They did have a kid though... 

    The nervousness in your mom’s voice, the violent man’s tone, and the lie immediately raised a red flag for you. You became uncertain and shaky. Who was he!?

     You prepared for the worst. You shoved a couple things in a backpack, the absolute necessary, and opened your bedroom’s window as quietly as possible. You looked down at the previously green grass outside. It was far. If you had to jump you were gonna hurt yourself, so you just prayed that they’d leave.

     “Surely you wouldn’t mind us looking around then?” 

    Your eyes widened, and you immediately took this as your cue. You put on the black gas mask your parents had given you in case of emergency and sat by the window pane.

    “What? B-but I told you we don’t have-”

    “Ma’am please step off or you’ll be taken.” He rudely interrupted your mother.

    You heard heavy footsteps echo throughout the house, and without a second thought jumped off. You pursed your lips together to prevent the scream from escaping past your lips as you landed on your side, on top of a couple of rocks. 

   You got up as quickly as you fell down and ran. You ran as fast as you could, always holding your aching side. 

    You had no idea where you were wandering, you had no idea what was safe or not, and you had no idea what was happening, but you ran anyways.

  It had been four days. You had seen some people running around and looting stores, you had seen some people in suits patrolling, and you had seen huge tanks taking over the city. You always felt the floor shake when one of them approached, so it was easy to hide. You wondered what they were for, but then again your imagination had run short.

  You hadn’t found a place you deemed safe yet. You’d sleep in hidden street corners and stolen from beaten-up shops to survive, but you were becoming tired and desperate. Hope died very quickly in a place like that, and every morning it was hard not to give up.

  After the longest days of your life, you decided to risk it. You went into the only part in town you hadn’t scavaged. It was previously known for illegal activity and for being generally very shady. Strangely, it was the most familiar part of town. It was dark, cold and scary, just like before.  

  You walked warily, looking the torn-apart buildings 'from head to toe’. Most of them were locked up, or too damaged to even enter, but a particular building caught your attention. The windows were sealed, but the door had a chain that had been broken. You approached it and carefully removed the chain. The metal door creaked against the floor and made an ugly noise. You closed it just as slowly and carefully inspected the bottom floor with the poor flashlight you had found in a hardware store. 

   It was clean.

  You moved upwards, and all of the floors were clear of corpses. A sense happiness and relief washed over you, as you might had just found a place to stick around in. 

  As you reached the floor just below the rooftop, your eyes glistened and your face lit up. 

  A mattress with a couple of blankets laid against the wall. There were unopened cans of food organized near the window, that gave you a perfect view of the safe and unsafe areas. As you were about to inspect the food and the expire date on them, someone spoke behind you.

  “Hello?”

 You jumped at the voice. You spun around quickly and held the turned-off flashlight close to your chest. Your eyes were widened and you were frozen in place. The male in front of you, on the other hand, was relaxed yet confused.

  He had a long dark fringe covering his eyes, and his skin was very pale. 

  “W-who are you?” You asked, trying your best not to stutter out the whole sentence.

   The man looked at you as if you were stupid.

   “I’m the person living here?... The owner of this five-star suite, actually.”

   Your face fell a little at his statement and he chuckled. 

  “What? Did you think you had hit the jackpot and just found a perfect place waiting for you?”

   You averted your gaze and blushed slightly in embarrassment at how stupid your thoughts sounded when said out loud. Neither of you said anything. You could immediately tell that there was a big contrast between your personalities: while you stood there, stiff and nervous, he was relaxed and staring at you with a mocking glare. You were a little confused as to why the male wasn’t freaking out over a random person walking in where he lived and trying to claim it. It was suspicious…

    The man looked at the mattress on the floor, then at the cans.

    “Wanna share?”

    You were taken aback by the question. Why would he willingly share what he had? Why would he willingly spare half of the very scarce resources he possessed? 

    “Why?” You quietly asked.

    The man understood your confusion, most people would shoo others away and refuse to even let them come close to whatever they had gathered. 

    He walked over to the mattress and sat down with a groan. The stranger took a very poorly joint up to his mouth and took a hit, then puffing out the smoke and creating a small cloud between the two of you. He opened his mouth to say something but was immediately cut off.

   “We’re in the middle of an apocalypse and you’re getting high!?”

   It wasn’t like you to stress over something so little, but the near-death experiences, the fear and all the running away had transformed you into a shell of your former self.

   “It’s… It’s not an apocalypse.”

   You furrowed your brows and cocked your head. How would he know what all this was anyway?

    “Well it’s kinda- Can you fucking sit down or something you’re stressing me out, standing there holding that flashlight like I’m gonna try to murder you.”

    The statement stole a chuckle out of you and you sat down on the floor in front of him.

    “To put it shortly, this pandemic is a war gone wrong.”

    There was a long silence, as he let you process the tiny bit of the puzzle he had just told you. It was understandable that you didn’t know what was going on, no one really did know but the ones that had been exposed to the government’s horrors.

    “This… virus. It wasn’t someone’s carelessness or a lab security breach, it was a biological war that went to shit. A country unbeknownst to everyone apparently sent out a virus to wipe out Japan and Korea, it was speculated inside the borders that it was because of the lucrative rise and some countries were losing their economic powers over a lot of major cities. But it spiraled out of control and everyone is slowly dying. It’s much worse than anything anyone had ever seen, and in a panic, the government started doing what they call ‘recruitment of the younger generation’. Don’t let the name fool you, we were taken against our will…”

    “We? You were there?”

    Jongho sighed, his voice dropped considerably and suddenly the weed tasted odd. He threw away the joint and rested his head against the wall. Guilt and shame filled his body, and he wasn’t able to look you in the eye as he explained what went on in the place he had been confined in.

    “I was… taken. From the house I was in. They take only young people who are healthy and capable. No disabilities inside those walls, only the ones they deem good enough to procreate and rebuild our country. We… We are forced to work, they do tests on us, they treat us like lab rats and the boys… The boys are forced to impregnate girls.” His voice cracked at that, clearly hitting a deep scar. His chest began to rise and fall quickly.

    You became suddenly sad and worried for the stranger. Your face contorted in a pitiful look and you approached him, patting his thigh for him to know he had your support.

    “It’s okay, you don’t need to tell any more…”

    The male glanced at the joint he had thrown away and regretted doing so. He really wished he had something that made the conversation easier.

     “No, the more people know, the easier it will be to destroy this whole shit. Letting the world die is better than what they’re doing to us. I was… forced to make girls pregnant. I- I don’t even know their names. I don’t even know who they are, they push you into a room and they watch you, to make sure you do things right. When people refuse to do so, there’s a punishment. But I was always too scared of it so I just followed the rules. In a couple of months I’ll have… I’ll have a children in there. A son, who knows maybe a daughter… And they’ll be forced to do exactly what I ran away from. Fuck I’m a monster!” 

   The male hit his head against the wall, hard. His eyes were tightly shut (certainly not hurt from the bang against the wall, but from something much deeper) and tears threatened to fall.

    The psychological side clearly was much worse than any physical work they were forced to do.

    “Hey, hey it’s okay. You didn’t do that because you wanted to, right? You did it because you were forced. If those kids are as smart as you surely they’ll get out too.”

   He scoffed and turned his head to look at you.

   “I got out because I was lucky. I was done with life, I didn’t want to be there anymore. But because the suicide rate was crazy high inside those walls everyone was always watching. I knew a guy though, he managed to pass around drugs and my plan was to overdose… But when the time came I always pussied out. As time went by and I kept consuming I became thinner, paler, weaker… I looked like I was about to die and they didn’t understand why, but at some point they stopped wanting me there, they deemed I was unfit. They cut off my food and water, they left me to die in a room. I was lucky because I passed out. They thought I was dead and threw me over the border. I woke up in a pile of dead bodies, bathing in blood, dirt, puke, and God knows what else. I could barely move, but I dragged myself out of the corpses and tried to survive the best I could.”

    You couldn’t believe your ears. You wanted to say something, but what was there to be said? ‘It’s going to be okay’? You both knew it was a lie… There was nothing to be said and all you could do was greet his lengthy life-story of the past couple months with silence.

    “That’s why I smoke weed. Y’know… kinda takes me out and makes me forget everything’s gone to shit, drowns out the worst in my head.”

    You nodded, a little uncomfortable yet understanding his position.

    Luckily, Jongho who had been through Hell and come back, was great at shooing away the awkwardness.

   “Now that you know about my kids, I’m Jongho by the way.”

   “I-I’m Y/N.” You introduced yourself, a little shocked at the way he was fine with joking about it.

    “Well Y/N, buckle up. We’re in a warzone now, it’s the end of the world. There ain’t a reason you and me should be alone.”

  You and Jongho sat at the top of the building. The sun was going down and you sat on his lap. His arms were around your body, holding your hands as he tried to teach you how to properly roll the thin paper. 

    “Y/N! We don’t have infinite weed! Stop messing this up!”

    “I- Are you joking, Jongho!? You pushed this mess onto my hands because you wanted to have a reason to have me on your lap!”

    You stood up (faking anger toward him) and walked up to the edge of the building, dancing and prancing around. 

    Jongho laughed at your cuteness and threw away the very much ruined romantic joint he tried to do with you. He walked over to you and placed his hands on your hips.

     “I won’t get high tonight but at least I was happy.” 

    You looked at him, surprised at the sweet comment. The sunlight gave his skin a golden tone and the slight wind blew his hair back. He smiled at the big eyes you were giving him, and chuckled upon realizing how little it had taken to make you speechless.

     “What?” He asked, as you wouldn’t stop staring.

    You giggled and placed your hands on his biceps, subconsciously playing with them.

    “Nothing it’s just… I didn’t know you could be cute.”

    Jongho faked a shocked expression, never breaking eye contact.

     “Excuse me! I can be adorable!”

     You scoffed and slapped his chest.

    “You’ve been cute to me like, two times.”

     “Two?” He asked, not remembering what the first had been.

     Your eyes drifted away and you blushed slightly. 

     “Well, you let me stay with you… That was really sweet, thank you.”

     Jongho lifted your chin with his index finger, making you look at him.

     “And I’m glad I did.”

     There was a small, comfortable silence before you spoke.

      “Why is that?”

      You were eager for the answer. Jongho was unpredictable, you never knew what to expect of him, so you looked deep into his eyes as you awaited a response. 

     Jongho looked away, before looking back at you and pressing his lips against yours, for a kiss that lasted no longer than a second.

     “Because I like you.”

    It was incredulous. You expected him to say that, but it was so… unexpected. You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off as per usual.

     “And I know, I know it’s been like two weeks, but it’s hard not to fall for someone like you once you spend every second of every day with them.”

     You blushed slightly and hit his chest.

     “Plus, you’re one of the most beautiful women out there.” He said as he caressed your cheek lovingly.

     “Jongho, who knew you could be so sweet…”

     “I know, right? But then again, everyone is dying and there’s like, a dozen women out there so you don’t have much competition.”

     You two laughed, and before you could hit him, Jongho ran away and ran downstairs. Once you found him, you tackled him onto the mattress, but of course he won over you, and began tickling you all over. He’d only stop when you begged and were almost crying. 

   You looked into each other’s eyes. The dim light coming from the windows setting a lewd mood. Once you had regained your breath, you grabbed the back of his head and kissed him. The kiss lasted a little longer than the previous one, slightly losing its innocence. 

  You had never gone beyond kissing with anybody, so you were surprised at yourself when you deepened the kiss and rolled your hips against his, you didn’t hate it however. You wanted to continue. The world was ending and you were making out with the hottest man you’d ever been with on a mattress, so if there was a perfect timing, that was it.

   You moaned onto the kiss, signaling that you wanted more, but Jongho pulled away rapidly and looked away, a little embarrassed.

    “Jongho? Did I do something wrong I-I’m sorry I had never done that before and I-”

    “You were fine Y/N, don’t worry… It’s just that. Those things I did… Those girls, it wasn’t that long ago. I don’t think I’m comfortable, I’m sorry, love.”

     You felt bad for making him feel like he had to apologize for his feelings. You started to panic, but you had to calm yourself down in order to make Jongho feel comfortable. 

     You placed a hand on his cheek and kissed his forehead.

     “It’s okay Jongho, I don’t mind waiting. I’ll wait for you a million years, even when we’re both old and looking like raisins, I promise I’ll still want you.”

      The male giggled, showing the gummy smile you loved oh so much, and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

     “I got so lucky… You’re all I need.”

   You woke up with Jongho shaking you and calling for your name. You immediately shot awake and sat on the mattress you called a bed. 

     Your boyfriend threw his heavy mask onto a corner, grabbed both of your cheeks and kissed you passionately. His eyes were teary and puffy. His whole face was red and his coal-coloured hair was stuck to his forehead. You furrowed at the way his hands were shaking as he held you.

     “Jongho?” You asked, a little nervous.

     “Yes, darling?” He questioned. 

     His voice was as shaky as his hands, and anxiety started building up in the pit of his stomach.

     “What’s wrong?”

    His jittery eyes took in all of your features before smiling nervously.

    “Nothing baby!”

    He kissed your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, and finished up with a long kiss on your lips.

    Suddenly, the ground shook. Once, twice… Jongho tried to block the window with his broad back, but you could still see the shiny, shooting star-like object coming down from the sky and colliding with the ground. A loud sound echoed in the air and the ground shook once more before you saw a mushroom-like explosion in the distance.

    You couldn’t hold back the tears as panic immediately enveloped you.

    “J-Jongho what- what’s going on!?” You asked, your voice rising for the first time in months.

    Your boyfriend looked at you with teary eyes and held your face in a way that you couldn’t look at the window.

     “Nothing, doll. Everything is fine, we’re gonna be okay.”

    Jongho hugged you tightly. You quickly wrapped your arms around him and held him as close as possible, as your brain put two and two together.

    The two of you pulled away and looked into each other’s eyes.

   “I love you.” He whispered.

    And, before you could reply, he pressed his lips to yours, in what you both knew to be your last kiss. So you didn’t pull away. And when the sky fell down, and when the blasting got closer to you, you still didn’t pull away.

    And so when everything went black, neither of you noticed, because your eyes were still closed, and you were still holding each other as if the world wasn’t ending, and you were the only thins that mattered to each other.

    Your forever wasn’t long, but as you held each other and tears streamed down your faces, you knew that it had been a good forever.

[catboymingi]

knight in shining armour - veninder chap. 1

navi/masterlist

story masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: crack, angst?? ish??, fluff; eventual best friends to lovers

word count: 6.4k

warnings: language

det har været et problem siden vi blev alene / at din’ veninder, de vil hævne sig - it’s been a problem ever since we were alone / that your girlfriends want to get revenge

if you were honest, you’d never really liked your friends much. maybe that made you sound like an asshole, but they were superficial, rude, and ignored everyone they didn’t deem worthy. the problem was just that they were also in all but two of your courses, so you knew that if you tried to end your friendship you’d have to make it very clear. just ghosting them wouldn’t work. so you just accepted that you were part of their group, and it did have its benefits, as well, it’s not like it was all around awful. you did a lot of fun things together and their popularity had rubbed off on you. you just didn’t like their attitude.

one of the fun things was a party at some rich kid you didn’t even know the name of’s house that weekend, which obviously meant meeting up at least an hour earlier to make sure you all looked as good as possible. you usually didn’t really care, but parties like these were one of the few occasions where you did want to look good. and they always managed to make you look not only good, but amazing. and the moments you spent by yourselves actually were nice more often than not; another thing that made it hard to cut them off.

“i think it won’t get any better than this”, one of them laughed, you others quickly joining in before deciding that it was now time to leave.

//

when you arrived at the party a lot of people were already there, but that only meant more people to turn their heads as you came in. you were secretly convinced that was your friends’ plan for every single party, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the stares you got. but you didn’t need them the way your friends seemed to, so while they were still basking in the attention you decided to just check your phone for a message (not that you were expecting one), in all honesty kind of annoyed how they always made their arrival a show rather than just going in like any normal person would. but they always made up for it by organising you a ride home when you inevitably left earlier than them, knowing that unlike them you couldn’t afford to just take a taxi.

the party proceeded like any other, skipping from room to room, making smalltalk with people you knew none of you would remember the names of the next day. but it was fun, you liked meeting new people, even if it was only a rather short acquaintanceship. but it got more… exciting when one of your friends spotted a group of boys that you all found to be of extreme interest. and before long, the dibs-calling started.

“i want that one!” you took a look to see who had been chosen with such dedication in her voice, and you had to admit she had good taste. of course she did. even from your distance you could see that he was handsome, tall, lean, and his hair was a bright red colour, which made him stand out even more.

“no way! that one’s mine!” the bickering continued, turned into arguing, and you decided that you’d had enough of that party.

“i’m leaving”, you informed them, but they were still arguing, no one paying attention to you as you realised that it was either to stay or to see how you got home by yourself. and you refused to expose yourself to even one more minute of arguing over whose dibs were more important, so you just left without getting so much as a goodbye.

problem was just, you didn’t even know where the party was, in the first place. maps told you the address, but the area didn’t ring any bells at all. so it was to guess and just walk, hoping you’d arrive home before the night was over. stupid as you were you hadn’t even brought your wallet - you usually didn’t need to, so bringing it was more of a risk since someone could steal it than it was of any use. but now you came to regret that decision. you came to regret even going to the party at all in the first place. you knew you were being melodramatic - you knew you very much did have fun until their stupid arguing started -, but it felt like you’d never enjoyed even a single party they’d dragged you to. and now you had to find your way back home, and your phone was at… 13%. fuck. your steps quickened, you knew you had to at least reach an area you knew before your phone died or you’d be screwed. but you gave up that hope when you zoomed out on the map a little, seeing that you were pretty much on the other end of the city.

“fuck! fucking shit hell!” you had no choice but to go back. but you knew you wouldn’t spend the rest of the night with your friends, who with a very high probability were still arguing about how to divide the boys they’d spotted. no way. and that decision was cemented when it started raining and you quickly looked like a mess, trying very hard to avoid being noticed when you slid back into whatever his name was’s house.

“you need a jacket.” step one: failed. but luckily you didn’t know the guy who’d found your sorry excuse of a being, though you faintly remembered that he was part of the group your friends had been gawking at.

“it’s not like it’s gonna help me now”, you replied, voice a little aggressive, but he laughed understandingly.

“fair. so what drove you outside in this weather?”

“for starters, when i was driven outside, the weather had not been any reason for concern yet. i just wanted to take a walk.”

“i get it. you’re here alone?” you nodded, might as well be with how little your friends had been paying attention to you, not even noticing you left at all.

“wanna join us? my friends and me, i mean.”

“why not?” it wasn’t like you had anything to lose, you were stuck here either way and he seemed nice enough. so you followed him, desperately trying to hide just how pathetic you looked, soaking wet and freezing.

“someone didn’t read the weather forecast”, one of the boys said instead of a greeting, though it didn’t seem malicious at all, so you decided to let it slip.

“seems so”, the one who was at fault for you being stared at by six curious pairs of eyes replied, before starting to introduce you. it was first when he tried to tell your name to the others that you both realised you hadn’t actually exchanged names yet.

“y/n.” the boys introduced themselves, a cacophony of names that you already knew you wouldn’t be able to remember the next day.

“you look cold”, another giant said (you knew it wasn’t the same one because this one’s hair wasn’t as bright red as the hair you’d seen earlier), and it seemed like he was genuinely concerned.

“i am. nothing to be done about that, though.” you shrugged, but it seemed like the boys thought differently, shuffling to make room for you between them so that you could sit down, and handing you whatever items of clothing they could spare, which resulted in you being buried underneath a mountain of jackets and sweatshirts they’d worn over their t-shirts.

“should be better now. where’s mingi?”, the one who found you asked, and you first now realised that mister redhead hadn’t been sitting with them when you arrived.

“toilet.” even though you weren’t looking you could tell that whoever spoke was grinning. “had some little girl business to do.”

“hey! i’m a big girl!” you looked up at the unknown voice and saw who you assumed to be mingi pout angrily at the group, though probably at the one who’d decided to call him ‘little girl’. then he realised that there was someone there that he was pretty sure hadn’t been there yet when he’d left for his big girl business.

“who’s that?”

“a sorry excuse of a being that probably stole your seat”, you replied and he grinned at you.

“nice to meet you, sorry excuse of a being. i’m the one who left his seat free to be stolen while i had big girl business to do.” now you were laughing, as were the others.

“y/n.”

“mingi.”

“really, though, this is your seat. sorry”, you said while getting up, trying to keep the way too large amount of donated clothes from dropping to the probably beer-drenched floor.

“you don’t have to get up!”, he tried to convince you, but there was no way you’d have him stand when you were already drenching everyone’s clothes.

“i’m not gonna sit while you’re standing”, you insisted. and after reading in your expression that you were serious, he decided to give in. or so you thought.

“fine.” and he moved to sit where you’d previously been sitting, his ass probably starting to soak up the water you’d left there. definitely soaking up the water, you corrected yourself at his disgusted expression. but he wasn’t going to have you stand, either.

“come here.” patting his lap to let you know where ‘here’ was.

“you know i’m gonna leave you drenched, right?”

“at least people won’t think i pissed my pants when i’m wet all over”, he joked and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“i guess it’s a good deed, then.” and you settled on his lap, feeling the heat that radiated off him (though you weren’t sure if he was actually extraordinarily warm - in your state anything above 5 degrees celsius would’ve felt like a sauna) while he winced at the sudden cold wetness that, as promised - or maybe as threatened -, was now leaving him somewhat soaking as well. his friends laughed at the two of you, but it didn’t seem like mingi took it to heart, even laughing along with them at the predicaments he found himself in. that, however, almost sent you to the beer-drenched floor, and he quickly wrapped his arms around you before you could meet your fate. you’d let out some kind of shriek either way though, convinced that your face would be acquainted with the floor sooner than you’d like it to, and several people near you turned to stare at the sudden noise. among them… your friends. and by the expressions on their faces you could tell the group chat would be heated. but in that moment you didn’t want to care, didn’t have the energy to, so you just pretended you hadn’t seen them.

you spent the night like that, joking with the boys who you found were much better company than the one you usually found yourself in, and they decided to adopt you. or, hongjoong and seonghwa (you were starting to learn their names by how much they shouted at each other in exasperation) had decided that, telling you that you now had, as they called it, ‘six dumbass brothers, congratulations’. then you were forcibly added to a group chat wooyoung had decided to make in that exact moment, called ‘hyung hate club’, his way to get back at the ‘dumbass brothers’ comment. you loved the way they interacted with each other, lots of playful teasing, but no one ever seemed to take it to heart, and they knew not to go too far. maybe that was why you felt comfortable enough to give out your phone number, and why you stayed where you were even though you could feel your friends kill you with their eyes.

you had no idea how long you’d stayed there with them, but it must have been pretty long, seeing how you were somewhat dry again when they told you that they were going to leave now since it was ‘bedtime for the little ones’, which ironically only included people taller than hongjoong.

“but we’ll message you!”, san promised, to which you replied, laughing, that that was the point of a group chat. but this reminded you of the sorry state your phone battery had been in the last time you’d checked, which made you check again. dead. of course. but you didn’t want to ask any of them to somehow get you home - you’d just met them and how were they even supposed to do that, anyway?

they left and you were certain none of them had noticed the way you were looking at your phone, but you were once more surprised by how nice the boys were when you found mingi waiting for you in front of the house.

“you know how to get home?”, he asked, and added as an explanation for his concern: “i saw the way you looked at your phone earlier.”

deciding that there was no use in lying (and also just not wanting to have to figure out how to get home by yourself, without money or a phone to use) you told him that you didn’t.

“where do you live?”

“way too far away”, you whined. “other end of the city.”

“oh.” he looked surprised and apologetic, and you knew right there that he wouldn’t be able to help you. so, wanting to save yourself and him the embarrassment of him having to tell you that you were on your own with that one, you said: “yeah, so i should get going now.”

“mm. or...” he seemed hesitant to finish his sentence and you looked at him questioningly.

“or?”

“i mean. if you’d be comfortable with that, i guess you could sleep at our place? we have a couch and i know the others wouldn’t mind, and you’d be able to charge your phone and you wouldn’t have to go home at night, and it’s much closer, so i thought i’d offer? i don’t know.” he was rambling and you were, in all honesty, quite taken aback, but you weren’t opposed to the idea. especially not when you remembered the other option. so your decision was an easy one.

“sure. thank you.” you sent a grateful smile his way which he reciprocated before he got going, turning around to see if you were coming along.

the first couple hundred metres were spent in silence, in part because you tried very hard to keep yourself from bibbering, and talking wasn’t on your list of priorities. he noticed, though, handing you his jacket without saying anything. was there anything he didn’t notice?

“you’ll be cold”, you protested, but he didn’t care, putting it on your shoulders himself and walking on as if the cold had no effect on him at all. and while you did feel a little guilty about him giving you his jacket you had to admit that it really helped.

the next time either of you spoke again was when he told you that you were almost there. he’d been right, they lived much closer than you, keeping the torturously cold journey shorter than anticipated.

“you can borrow some clothes”, he informed you. “i’ll get them for you as soon as we’re there.” you didn’t protest this time. you assumed that he did in fact have enough clothes to spare one shirt and one pair of pants for the night, and your outfit wasn’t just still damp but also incredibly uncomfortable to sleep in in general.

“thank you.” he turned to smile at you, his eyes turning into little half moons as he did so, and you smiled back. then, maybe a minute later, he stopped in front of a tall apartment building and opened the door through which you quickly slid in, letting out a content sigh when you felt the warmth surrounding you. mingi let out a short laugh at that which earned him a pout from you.

“you try spending an entire night in semi-wet clothes, i bet you’d be happy about the warmth too!” he raised his hands defensively, still laughing, before going over to the elevator and pressing the button to call it down to you. it was already on your floor, though, so you didn’t have to wait, and before long you were in front of his - or rather, their - apartment door.

“i think the others might already be asleep, so we should probably be quiet”, he told you before letting you both in, using his phone flashlight to light the way to his room after you’d taken off your shoes.

“i’ll just get you some clothes, then i’m on the couch”, he explained, but you protested, whispering angrily that no way was he going to sleep on the couch in his home.

“well you’re not going to, either”, he whispered back, “so unless you want to spend the night with my snores disrupting your beauty sleep i’ll be on the couch.”

“you will not sleep on the couch” was all you said to that, and he sighed, defeated, realising that you were at least as stubborn as him.

“i’ll still let you get changed first, though. let me know when you’re done.” you grinned a victorious grin as you took the clothes from him, knowing that you’d won. then, after he’d left the room with his own change of clothes, you quickly got changed, enjoying the way his clothes were big and soft and warm rather than tight and sticky and cold like what you’d been wearing previously.

“you can come in”, you let him know once you were done, head peeking out of his bedroom door as if you were scared to get caught. and he came back into his room smiling, then erupting into laughter he tried to keep quiet as he saw you in his clothes, feet entirely covered by the excess fabric of his pants and hands hidden by the sleeves of his sweater. you looked incredibly tiny and really cute, not at all like the party animal he’d met you as. you just huffed, walking over to the bed and sitting down on it more dramatically than mingi had thought possible for that action to be.

“if you don’t stop laughing i’m throwing this cup at you”, you threatened, pointing to one of the empty mugs on his bedside table. he didn’t entirely stop, but calmed down a little, coming over as well - his old clothes had been discarded on the desk chair, which you could easily tell was the chair, the chair that made a laundry basket unnecessary - and settling next to you.

“wall or room?”, he asked, and it took you a moment to realise what he was talking about.

“wall?” it sounded like a question, even though he had clearly left the choice to you. he moved the blanket to the side in reply, motioning for you to lay down, and you did, him following suit once you seemed comfortable.

“feel free to kick me if i snore”, he told you. “it won’t wake me up, but maybe it helps with your frustration.”

“noted”, you laughed before turning to face the wall.

“goodnight, mingi. and thank you for letting me stay over.”

“no problem. goodnight.” and a comfortable silence settled between you two, the only sounds when either of you shuffled slightly.

“you’re stealing the blanket”, he suddenly complained, and it sounded like that was the only thing still keeping him awake, his deep voice even deeper from how tired he was.

“sorry. i’m still kinda cold. i can sleep on the couch though”, you apologised. he’d been so nice to you, even let you sleep in his bed, and here you were, stealing his blanket.

“mm”, he hummed, but it was more one of acknowledgement rather than one of agreement. then you felt him shuffle behind you and before you knew it he’d wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest before letting go for a moment to move the blanket so that it now once more was covering the both of you, at which point he wrapped his arm back around you.

“better?”

this time it was your turn to hum, not really sure what to make of this whole situation. but you were warmer now, you were comfortable, and most of all, you were tired as shit. so you decided that was something for tomorrow you to overthink about, and began drifting off to sleep.

the next morning - or noon, more accurately - came sooner than hoped for, when yunho walked into mingi’s room, waking you up.

“hey, mingi”, he said loudly, trying to wake him up but obviously unaware of the fact that the boy in question wasn’t alone. “i didn’t hear you come home last night, so i wanted to check if you’re alright.” then his eyes fell upon you, whom he had managed to wake up, unlike mingi, who was still clinging on to you, face all but buried in your hair.

“oh, sorry”, he quickly apologised, “i didn’t know he brought you.”

“my phone was empty and i didn’t know how else to get home”, you explained.

“knight in shining armour, huh? usually he’s the damsel in distress.” you both laughed, and you were glad that he didn’t make a big deal out of you having spent the night in mingi’s bed. then he came over, shaking his friend to make him wake up, which, due to the sleepyhead’s arm that was still wrapped around you, had you shaken up just as much.

“mingi, wake up!”, yunho tried again, and you did as well, turning to face the two and gently hitting the boy’s chest. but he was right when he said he probably wouldn’t wake up even if you kicked him; it seemed near impossible to wake him up. so you accepted your fate (which was getting late breakfast with the boys and not having mingi there to answer the awkward ‘but why are you here right now’ questions), removing his arm from your waist and sitting up, ready to get up. but mingi wasn’t as asleep as he seemed, grabbing your wrist and mumbling “just a bit more”.

“get up or stay in bed alone, i’m getting up”, you told him, and finally, finally he opened his eyes, stretching his illegally long limbs before sitting up as well.

“you have to teach me how you did that”, the other boy said with a mix of amusement and respect at your achievement in his voice, which made you laugh loudly.

“he’s not usually that easy to convince?”, you asked.

“you don’t even know. i have to threaten him with a bucket of water at least once a week.”

“that’s because you suck”, was the explanation given, and you had to laugh once more, both at the pout on yunho’s face and how absolutely tired mingi sounded.

“i’ll remember that next time i try to save you some pancakes.”

“i’m sorry!”, the one sitting next to you yelped so loudly that you flinched slightly, but you were smiling. it was incredibly nice to see their mutual teasing, the way they interacted without trying to actually hurt each other.

“just come when you’re done, i think breakfast should be ready”, was all he got for an answer, but both the boys were grinning at each other. then yunho left, and you and mingi were stuck in awkward silence.

“i don’t think you want to put your party clothes back on, but if you’d like to change again i can lend you some more”, he offered after a couple embarrassingly quiet seconds, but you declined - you didn’t want to be even more of a hassle, and you’d only worn these for a few hours in which you didn’t do anything but sleep, so it was fine. actually, you didn’t even want to get breakfast with them, feeling like you’d already taken advantage of their hospitality more than enough. but when you tried to tell him that he quickly shut you down, telling you that he’d not let you leave with an empty stomach, plus you’d both forgotten to charge your phone overnight so that you wouldn’t even know the way. sadly, he had a point.

when you entered the living room after you’d finally put your phone to charge no one seemed particularly surprised to see you there, so you assumed they’d already been informed about the sudden guest. still, they sent what you assumed to be both teasing and curious looks in mingi’s direction, and really, you could understand them. this wasn’t the most common thing to do after having met the night before, but you still felt like there hadn’t really been any other polite option for him, and any other even half as good one for you. so you decided that if they were to say something you’d back him up; you owed him.

and, of course, the dreaded kind of comments came sooner than you’d hoped. you’d just sat down at the table with the others before wooyoung attempted to wiggle his eyebrows at you and asked: “so, you and mingi? kind of disappointed you didn’t choose me”, to which san hit his arm playfully with a fake pout on his face as he told him that he ‘thought we had something special’. you couldn’t help but laugh, even though you were kind of embarrassed anyway. but everyone was incredibly nice as you ate, and you soon noticed that their teasing was always playful, never crossing over into genuinely harmful territory, and that it never was about looks or other things that one’s control over was limited if not nonexistent. it was so different from what you were used to, but you liked this way of interacting much better. everyone had fun, not just the one making the joke, and no one got hurt.

after what mingi had labelled brunch because ‘it sounds better than breakfast at 2pm’ you insisted on helping with doing the dishes, which seonghwa appreciated.

“finally someone with manners”, which was very obviously a jab at his friend group who did not seem eager at all to help. then he left to the kitchen, you following suit, both of you carrying the plates that had been used. you started doing the dishes in silence, seonghwa cleaning them and you drying them and building a small plate tower because you didn’t know where to put them and it’d be easier to just put them all away at once. it was a comfortable silence though, being silent because there was nothing to be said, not because you didn’t dare to say anything.

when you returned to the living room you informed everyone that you were heading off now, and asked mingi where to put his clothes after you got changed.

“just keep them on”, he told you, “i’m sure this wasn’t the last time we ever saw each other, and i’m not that desperate.” you nodded, secretly glad you didn’t have to make your way back in your party outfit - it really wasn’t the warmest or most comfortable when you had to walk at least one hour home. then he followed you to his room where you grabbed your phone first thing, turning it on and checking the notifications for how much trouble you were in. based on the number of notifications and missed calls, and the fact that several of your friends had messaged not only the group chat, but also you individually, you were in a lot of trouble. and even more so when you accidentally clicked on a notification, which meant now the messages were marked as read. as if they’d been waiting for that, your phone started ringing maybe 10 seconds later, and you knew that not picking up would only make it worse. so you motioned at mingi, letting him know that you had to pick up.

“yeah?”

“where the fuck have you been!”, came yelling from the other end.

“my phone was dead, and i didn’t have a chance to charge it.”

“why not? why wouldn’t you be able to charge your phone?!” now you knew you were in deep trouble. there was no good excuse for that that didn’t require you to give away that you hadn’t spent the night at your place.

“i wasn’t home.” you decided to just deal with the worst now so it was over, at least.

“and where were you?”

“kind of had a sleepover.” you could see the boy grin at that, but you didn’t feel like laughing at all.

“sleepover, uh huh. just say you fucked one of the guys and go.”

“i didn’t.”

“oh come on, y/n, we all saw you on that dude’s lap. don’t play innocent.” this made you angry, because you’d never lied to your friends before, and you weren’t lying now, either. plus, even if you had slept with any of them, it wouldn’t have been a reason to get angry like this.

“i didn’t fuck anyone and have no intention of doing so, thank you very much”, you snapped, louder than you’d intentioned to be. then you hung up, not wanting to deal with this when you still had to figure out how you’d get home without having to ruin your feet, because of course you hadn’t worn functional shoes when you left last night. and now you had something else to deal with as well, you noticed when you looked away from your phone and over to your sleepover companion, who looked quite surprised by your outburst.

“sorry”, you apologised. “i’ll go now.” and you grabbed your clothes from the floor, making your way through the living room to the door, where you grabbed your shoes with your free hand (you’d decided walking barefoot was probably still better for your feet than wearing your monster heels) and turned around to the boys who, by the looks of it, had heard your declaration of having remained celibate as well.

“thank you for letting me stay here, but i’ll leave now”, you informed them as well, leaving the door before any of them had regained enough composure to reply.

to your dismay, however, the elevator took a while to reach your floor, and in the time you spent waiting for the doors to open mingi had caught up with you.

“what?”, you asked, confusion and upset - though that wasn’t directed at him - apparent in your voice.

“doesn’t look like you’re fit to go home like that.” he motioned to your shoes in your hand, then to your bare feet.

“and what do you intend to do about that?” you felt bad for snapping, but you were just really frustrated at everything and everyone right now, and he was the only one there to deal with it. but he didn’t seem to get angry, instead grinning at you before informing you that he intended to bring you home while you entered the elevator.

“i’ll carry you if i have to. but i won’t have to because there’s a train station nearby.”

“i didn’t bring my wallet”, you let him know, disappointed at the fact that you wouldn’t be able to take the train which would without doubt be much more comfortable.

“my treat.” he was still grinning, and you couldn’t help but smile back. he was saving your ass for the second time in less than 24 hours. you really owed him.

“thank you”, you replied, and he could tell you were less tense and upset now, which already felt like an achievement to him.

“i’m still not letting you walk around barefoot, though”, he informed you before swiftly picking you up, causing you to almost drop everything as he started honeymoon carrying you.

“let me down!”, you protested, but you were laughing so he knew he’d still make it home alive if he didn’t. and he knew that the risk of you stepping into glass was just too high, so he kept carrying you until you reached the train station where he bought you your ticket. he surprised you, however, when he entered your train with you.

“i got a monthly pass”, he grinned at you as he saw your questioning expression. that didn’t explain why he joined you, but you decided to just leave it be for now, tensing up again as you felt your phone vibrate repeatedly. he heard as well, unsure if he should ask about the call from earlier or not, but decided to go with it.

“what was up earlier? you know, in my room.” yeah, you knew. sadly. you sighed loudly before unlocking your phone, checking the message preview to see if your suspicions about its content were confirmed. and of course they were, the latest message reading ‘whats up? ashamed abt the gang bang?’, so you showed mingi rather than explaining. his eyes widened at that, having noticed that the contact name was ‘model contract when???’, so the person was probably a friend of yours, but the way they talked to you didn’t seem like it at all.

“what the fuck?” he couldn’t stop himself, but he also couldn’t even imagine his friends ever talking to him that way, no matter what he did. and he could vouch for the fact that you hadn’t done anything to warrant being talked to like that, if there even was a reason to talk like that ever. you didn’t seem upset at his reaction though, letting out a dry chuckle because you knew this was not the way to talk to anyone at all, but you couldn’t change it. and you’d known your friends talked like that when they were upset, you’d just never given them a reason to talk to you that way yet, so it was more that it was a new thing for them to act like this towards you rather than that it was shocking you in general.

“it’s not a big deal”, you shrugged, “i think i’ll just avoid parties for a little and then they’ll calm down.”

“hm.” he didn’t seem convinced, but he knew it wasn’t his place to speak. “how about pyjama parties though, are those banned as well?”, he then asked at an attempt to lighten up the mood.

“hm?” you didn’t yet understand what he was trying to ask, but were a little curious nonetheless.

“if we invited you for a pyjama party, would you come?”

you looked over at him and he seemed genuinely excited at the prospect of a pyjama party, beaming at you, and while you’d noticed before that he was objectively handsome you now noticed that he had an individual, kind of unusual charm to him as well, being surprisingly cute for his height. and while you weren’t usually very affected by handsome men his adorable behaviour made you want to say yes. and before you could stop yourself, that ’yes’ had slipped. it was worth it, though, because he looked so happy at your reply that you half expected him to get up and jump up and down like a child. but instead he grabbed his phone, fingers moving quickly as he typed up his message.

just a few seconds later your phone buzzed again, causing you to flinch, but he smiled at you and told you it was just him. and while you weren’t sure how he had your number you decided to check either way, the notification on your phone reminding you that ‘hyung hate club’ existed, which was also how he had your number. of course wooyoung had added all of them, you’d quite honestly just forgotten about the group chat entirely. but here it was, being filled with enthusiastic replies to whatever mingi had sent, the others’ messages being so many that the original one was no longer visible even in the extended preview. so you clicked on the chat, curious to see just what had caused them to act like this.

the message in question was ‘pyjama party this weekend n y/ns coming’, and you couldn’t help but grin at how a simple pyjama party had made them so excited. you found yourself comparing them to your regular friends and found that the more you saw of how their friendship worked, the less you liked yours. but it seemed like they were genuinely adopting you and letting you be part of their group, and that made you weirdly happy, considering how little you actually knew them - but they’d made you feel more welcome than your friends ever had. so, while you’d dread it if your friends invited you to another party, you actually found yourself a little excited about the one mingi had just invited you to.

you reached your stop shortly after, and even though you insisted you’d be fine the boy joined you, picking you up again as soon as you left the train station, but this time he gave you a piggyback ride, asking you for directions and carrying you all the way home. it wasn’t awfully far, but you still appreciated the gesture, very aware of the fact that this was definitely the better option for your feet.

he let you down once you reached your dorm, and first then did it occur to him to ask where you even studied. you told him and his eyes widened slightly before he beamed at you again, letting you know that they were all studying there as well (which wasn’t that surprising, really, it was the biggest uni in city) and that you were now legally obligated to sit with them during lunch. when you tried to protest he cut you off, reminding you that you owed him, to which you could only nod with a defeated sigh, but you were smiling as well.

“see you at lunch then!”, he beamed at you, making sure you had your keys and wouldn’t be left locked out before leaving with a wave.

“see you”, you smiled back, waving after him with your shoes still in hand before you finally entered your home, and even though you had slept quite well that night you wanted nothing more than to nap. so you dropped everything to the floor and put your still frequently buzzing phone on silent before moving into bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

[wickedmilo]

YOU CAN STAY MILO | MILO & HARSH

PLACE: A quiet White Crest street TIMING: 4:00 AM SUMMARY: Upon discovering Milo has only been a vampire for a month, Harsh decides to help him adjust to his new situation WRITING PARTNER: @notsoharsh CONTENT WARNINGS: Heavy talk of addiction, rehab, and drug abuse

Milo’s lack of self control, and inability to say no had always been something he was painfully aware of. It didn’t bother him, for the most part. If he shifted his perspective, or found the perfect high, then he could almost, almost convince himself he had a hand on the wheel, regardless of how true that actually was. It was easy to do, because he was only ever hurting himself. He was the one at risk, he was the one using the substances, venturing to questionable areas of town. Now though, his instability was putting other people in danger. If he gave in, he wasn’t the one getting hurt. It was a sense of responsibility he had never been forced to face before, and that left him terrified.  

Creeping on the outskirts of town, venturing into the forest for his more sinister appetites, he was struggling to find a balance. He needed to avoid people, he didn’t trust himself not to. But he was also very aware of his shaking hands, the cold sweat leaving a sheen on his skin that ironically made him look like the living dead. He was barely scraping by on the hits he had been able to talk out of strangers. The withdrawal was only made worse by the thought of the stash he had waiting for him in his friend’s apartment. He would return for it if he wasn’t so sure a chance encounter could end in bloodshed. He shouldn’t be in town, he knew he shouldn’t be in town. But a quick meeting with a dealer and he could hide again, melt into the shadows. How had his life deteriorated so quickly? It was pitiful. Cuffing his nose on the sleeve of his hoodie, he continued to drag his feet down the quiet high street. His head bowed as he made an effort to go unnoticed, he was entirely unaware of being watched.  

Harsh had started to get used to this whole ‘patrolling’ thing. It was rough at first, finding ways to steer clear of actual slayer and hunter routes, but it made the lies easier whenever there was a hint of truth buried underneath. Still, he tried to avoid killing other vampires when he could help it. A few needed to be dusted here and there to keep up appearances, but better they run into him than a slayer who actually wanted them gone. Hands in his pockets, he strolled casually, keeping to the shadows. Soft footsteps caught his ears… but no heartbeat. Interesting. He moved carefully, keeping his own steps nearly silent. There. Definitely a vampire, but not one he recognized. Harsh watched, eyes narrowed. There was something off. The guy looked young. Might be easier to stake him and go, but… something stopped Harsh going for the stake in his pocket. Something about the guy’s face--he looked rough.  

It wasn’t smart, but Harsh had never been one to plan ahead. He moved quick and quiet, before stepping out of the shadows, not far from the stranger. “Hey man,” he called, voice even, casual, holding up an unlit cigarette. “You got a light? Must’ve left mine at home.” Closer, he could see the vampire’s face better. Yeah, definitely rough. Harsh had seen that look before, too many times. Damn it. Way too late to walk away now. He kept his own expression friendly, smile fixed into place. “It’s nice out, isn’t it? I thought we would never be done with all that snow. Are you from around here?” 

Milo found with his heightened senses that it was far easier to maintain an awareness of his surroundings than it had been before his death. It should be a useful ability, he had certainly used it a few times to avoid crossing paths with humans. But his ability to get lost in his own head, especially when he was struggling, seemed to be entirely unparalleled. He knew he should be smarter, more focused, but it wasn’t quite that simple. Which was why, when a man emerged suddenly from the shadows, he had the rather undignified response of stumbling backwards, a yelp of surprise escaping him. Something wasn’t right, he registered that almost immediately. But tired, and aching, he had far more important things to worry about than why a stranger was potentially weird.  

“Shit- what are you doing?” He demanded. If he needed to breathe, he would have been catching his breath at this point. “Who does that?” It was an instinct to place a hand over his heart as he recovered from the shock, but it only took a few seconds before the lack of a heartbeat made him uncomfortable. He hurried to shake off the sensation. “You- you want a light?” He echoed, distracting himself by fumbling in his pockets. “Fine, whatever- just don’t fucking creep up on me again.” Holding out the lighter, he realised he was shaking, and hurried to force his balled fists back into his pockets. “It’s nice out?” He glanced up at the sky, wrinkling his nose as he struggled to understand the question. “I mean- it’s night? What do you want me to say?” Turning his attention back to his company, he shrugged, playing off his response as casual, despite still feeling shaken, and now just a little suspicious. “Uh… born and raised? Why do you care?”  

Oh a jumpy one. Yeah, this kid was definitely new to the vampire thing. He seemed like he might be scared of his own shadow. If Harsh could feel bad for people, he probably would have. Maybe he did. It was sort of hard to tell. Without much hesitation, he grabbed the lighter. Smoking was more of a pain now that he had to make himself go through the motions of breathing manually, but he had learned how to make it work after a hundred years of practice. He blew out a steady stream of smoke and laughed softly. “You could’ve fooled me. You seem new… scared. I wouldn’t recommend that. This place’ll eat you up and spit you back out if you let it know you’re afraid.” 

He dug through his pockets, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and offering it to the stranger. “Here, might help with your nerves. And you should try to look like you’re still breathing, helps you blend in.” Maybe he was playing too much of his hand, but there wasn’t much point in pretending. This kid seemed shaky. If he went around like that, he was going to get himself staked in no time at all. And that was… kind of sad. Harsh kept his expression even, though there was a knowing lilt to his voice. “I’m like you, man. Just listen for a second, really listen.” It wasn’t the kind of thing new vampires usually thought about, sitting still, actually listening for breath, for a heart beat, but if any of them would slow down for a minute, they could make things so much easier for themselves. “I’m Harsh, by the way. Real name, I swear, trust me, I’ve heard all the smart comments. What’s yours?” 

“What?” Milo demanded, struggling to keep up with the vague nature of the conversation. He was almost ready to turn and leave when the stranger mentioned being chewed up and spit back out again. “Yeah, no shit. I think this place has already done that so you’re wasting your time.” He muttered. The town looked different to him now, it felt different. He had grown up in a place that would eventually be the death of him. It was a sick, and twisted thing to realise. Distracted by the packet of cigarettes, he was halfway through sliding one out of the carton when he realised what the man had said. Freezing instantaneously, his entire body grew tense. But then the comment responsible for terrifying him was followed up by another comment, by a comment he had been desperate to hear for what felt like an eternity. He had been alone for a month. He hadn’t been able to ask anybody questions, or lean on anybody for support. The one friend he could always rely on had tried to kill him, and he was just… lost. He tried to dampen the spark of hope that had managed to ignite within his chest, but it proved to be impossible. He followed his instruction, cautious, and careful, his eyes widening suddenly when he realised he didn’t hear a heartbeat. 

He wasn’t sure what to say in response, his voice stolen by an overwhelming rush of emotion. He didn’t want to assume his struggle was over, was his struggle ever going to be over? But for the first time since waking up, he didn’t feel as though he was on his own. Here was somebody who potentially understood, who knew what he was going through. “You’re- you’re not going to hurt me, are you?” His voice was small, and uncertain. In contrast to the sarcastic edge usually lacing his tone. “I don’t even know how this happened, okay? I woke up like this, you’re the first person I’ve met who’s- who’s the same way.” Abandoning the cigarettes, he shifted uncomfortably on the spot, ready to run if he needed to, despite knowing he would never be able to best this person. They were obviously stronger than him, more capable in every conceivable way. “Your name is Harsh?” He echoed. “I- I’m Milo… Or I was- I mean, I think I still am.” 

Harsh bit back a laugh. Was he going to hurt him? It was a fair question. He hadn’t quite made up his mind. It would be good for the whole slayer reputation he was trying to build. But… if this guy was new, he probably hadn’t made much of a name for himself yet. And that wouldn’t exactly make for a good story, staking some poor, newly turned kid. Honestly, that seemed… pretty lame. Friendly smile still in place, he shook his head. “Wasn’t planning on it. If you want to pick a fight, I’ll punch back, but nope. I just thought you looked… lonely.” He frowned a little as Milo went on. The guy had just been turned and abandoned? Well, that was a whole world of suck right there. “You were turned. A vampire, someone else like us, they must have drained you and forced you to drink some of their blood.” He paused there. Probably not the nicest thing to just tell Milo he was dead. But he might have already known.  

“Good to meet you, Milo. You can still be if you want, or you can change things up. Some people do that. Once they turn… they want to be someone else. It can be sort of a fresh start, if you want it to be.” Harsh had never considered changing his name, though… other things, the rest of him… that hadn’t quite stayed the same. It had been so long, he wasn’t quite sure who he had been when he was human, but he was pretty sure that person was a far cry from whoever he was now. “So… you don’t know who turned you? Or anyone else like us? Seriously? That’s rough, man. How long has it been for you? Have you had any blood recently?” 

Milo frowned, unable to decide whether Harsh was laughing at him, or at the situation. Feeling his shoulders drop when he was assured he wasn’t in any danger, maybe it was stupid to believe a stranger so easily. But he was scared of pushing the man away, of being left alone again. Even if he wasn’t entirely comfortable. “Something tells me I wouldn’t stand a chance.” He admitted, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. His sharp tongue had gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion. He knew he could take a punch, but he had never been able to successfully throw one. His smile faded as quickly as it had appeared at the mention of looking lonely. The observation was a little too accurate for his liking, it forced him to acknowledge the painful, empty feeling inside his chest. “Yeah…” He muttered, scuffing his shoes against the asphalt. He had never been the type of person to ask for help, or admit he needed it. Then again, he had never felt quite so lost. “I guess I kind of am. S’not like I can go home, y’know?” 

Keeping his head down as Harsh began to explain what he was, he chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip. Had he really been made to drink someone’s blood? He couldn’t remember doing so, surely even high he would have questioned that. He had vague recollections of losing consciousness, feeling weak, and dizzy as he tried to push away the person responsible for attacking him. Would he have had any power to refuse? “So it- it wasn’t an accident?” He asked finally, looking back up to watch the expression on his company’s face. “Somebody did this on purpose? And then just… left me?” It was something that had been eating away at him, not knowing what had taken place. The sequence of events that had ended with him waking up in an abandoned building, missing 30 hours of his time. Was he an accident, or had somebody had planned the entire ordeal? He still wasn’t sure which was worse. He had been repressing the thoughts, struggling to focus on the present. But now his mind was racing. He was desperate for answers. 

“No- no.” He hurried to assure Harsh. “I want to be Milo- I don’t want to be anybody else.” The idea of losing his identity, his sense of self, alongside his life… his Humanity. That was as terrifying as anything he had faced over the course of the past month. He couldn’t do that, he would go insane. Averting his gaze, once again, when he was asked another question, he realised how strange it felt to be saying the words out loud. Drinking blood, dying, being turned… these were things only ever talked about in the context of fantasy. And now they had become a part of his life, a part of a serious discussion. For the first time, he was talking about it. “No, I don’t know. I was in a club, someone offered me something…” His voice was slow as he sifted through his memories, trying to pull the important information from the haze of the high. “We shot up… whatever it was. And then they attacked me, but I don’t know who they were, I don’t even think I would recognise them.” Letting out a huff of breath, a decidedly Human habit he had yet to shake, he pushed his hair back away from his face. It was damp with sweat. How was he supposed to explain to Harsh that it wasn’t just blood he was craving? “A month… maybe just over. But I- no, not today.” He was too embarrassed to admit he had been trying, and failing to hunt animals in the woods. His diet consisted entirely of animals he was, by some miracle, able to catch.  

“Aw, c’mon, I’m not as tough as I look. But you’re stronger than you think. One of the perks of the whole blood craving thing.” This kid was going to have to learn to fight whether he liked it or not. Slayers weren’t going to wait for him to figure out how to punch. Harsh had seen that for himself. He nodded. That much he could understand. When he had turned, he had never wanted to go home, he had a new one… until he didn’t. And it was only then that it really sunk in, how he could never put things back the way they were before. “Yeah that’s… one of the major downsides. People don’t really get it if they aren’t like us, they don’t understand. It sucks, losing that. I was never… all that welcome at home, but they were still a safety net… until they weren’t. I know it’s hard, man.”  

Grimacing, Harsh shook his head. “I really doubt it. Most vampires don’t just accidentally let someone drink some of their own blood. They usually stick around for the turn though. It’s this whole… sire thing. You feel sort of connected to people you turn or the one who turned you. Usually that means something to people.” Not that he was really one to talk. On occasion, during his two hundred year rampage, he had turned someone for the hell of it. But even then, at his worst, he had usually stuck around to see if they ate someone five minutes after they woke up. He couldn’t find it in him to be proud of that. It was the bare minimum. And Milo didn’t even have that much. Poor guy. Harsh let his mind drift for a moment, back to those confused, scared faces, his brood… he couldn’t make it up to any of them now. But maybe he could make up for a little of it here.  

He held up a calming hand. “Easy man, it’s okay. You can stay Milo if you want to. There’s nothing wrong with that. You don’t have to be a different person just cause you work a little differently now.” Harsh took a small, cautious step forward, hands still up, palms open, like he was approaching a frightened animal almost. Another little step. “So they might have drugged you first? Shit. That’s on them, not you, Milo.” He took another slight step forward, putting a hand lightly on Milo’s shoulder. “You want some? I work at the hospital, I swipe blood bags now and then. I’ve got some extra, if you need it. I know how hard it can be when you first start hunting. But you want to drink regularly. If you don’t… trust me, it’s not pretty.”  

Milo frowned. He didn’t want to be strong, his physical wellbeing had never been much of a concern. If this strength came with so many catches, he would much rather revert to his old self. His weak self. “There are perks?” He asked, skepticism clear in his tone. Even if he wanted to hide it, he wasn’t sure he would be able to. Everything had become so twisted. Even now that he had somebody to explain things to him, somebody to answer his questions, the sense of hopelessness he had grown so used to stubbornly refused to dissipate. “Hm,” He stifled a bitter laugh, scuffing at the asphalt with his battered Converse. “My parents have never been the understanding type.” How many arguments had he suffered through? How many times had he stormed out of the front door, or climbed out of his bedroom window, with the promise of never talking to them again? He had been in the process of cutting them off the night he was attacked. Dying had only made it easier to ignore the never ending phone calls. The texts from his mom demanding to know where he was. “They’ve been threatening me with rehab for years… hardly a safety net.”  

His frown deepening when Harsh confirmed his suspicion, he felt a surge of anger course through his veins. Somebody had done this to him intentionally. So he wasn’t a mistake, he wasn’t the result of a spontaneous accident. Sure, whoever was responsible had been high, but they would have known the consequences of their actions. They would have understood. Clearly they didn’t give a shit about him, so much for a ‘sire’ connection. “Yeah, well… apparently not.” He muttered, blinking away the tears stinging suddenly at his eyes. He didn’t want to cry, he couldn’t afford to look so pathetic. Brushing at them with the sleeve of his hoodie, he looked back up at the man so intent on helping him. Swallowing his emotion, he allowed himself to be comforted by the assurance. You can stay Milo if you want to. There’s nothing wrong with that. He was terrified of losing himself. It felt like all he had left was his identity.  

Tensing when Harsh took a step towards him, he had to fight every instinct telling him to run. Attempting to brush off his discomfort, he offered his company a hesitant shrug. Harsh wasn’t a threat, he was safe. Probably safer than he had been since first waking up. “I mean, s’not exactly like I said no.” He admitted. Maybe if he had, he would still be alive, his heart would still be beating inside his chest. His eyes widening at the unexpected offer of blood, it didn’t take long for him to realise he was being forced to choose, forced to prioritise his cravings. Did he meet his dealer, and then follow Harsh? Was it rude to ask him to wait? Then again, his mouth felt dry, he almost hurt with longing as he imagined the blood bags from the hospital. The hand on his shoulder didn’t ground him, but it allowed him to focus on his answer. “Yes.” He said, a little too quickly. “I mean- I was meeting someone- I need to-” If he stood up his dealer he would be written off, forced to find another. Given his new instability, the last thing he wanted was to be left in suspense, to not know where his next hit might be coming from. “Would you- would you maybe come with me? Make sure I don’t do anything stupid… it’ll take two minutes, I swear.”  

“Oh yeah, tons of them. Some take a little longer to work out, and I know the downsides are… pretty big, but trust me. It’s not all bad.” Though that might have been two hundred years of bias talking. Harsh could barely remember the things he missed about being human. Going out in the sun had been nice… probably. But he had spent far more time out of it than in it. “I’ll show you a couple tricks, if you want.” There were some things that would come in time, learning how to manage the strength, the new power. Maybe it wasn’t exactly a light at the end of a tunnel. Because the tunnel was all there was now. There wasn’t much choice except to learn to love it. He grimaced, nodding faintly. “That’s… shit, man. Rehab shouldn’t be a threat, no one gets to choose that except for you, and only if you even want it.” Though Harsh had dabbled with various substances over the years, he had never messed with anything that could get him hooked. Blood was already a life long addiction, he didn’t need another one. 

Harsh kept his hand gentle on Milo’s shoulder. Empathy wasn’t a thing he could do. The sucking void where his soul should be saw to that. At least, not automatically. But he could try to think back to what his first few months were like. The adjustment hadn’t been that bad, but… he hadn’t done it alone. He cocked an eyebrow. So Milo already had another appointment. Well, he looked… rough. Maybe there was something else he was after, the whole ‘rehab’ thing probably didn’t come out of nowhere. Harsh nodded, smile still easy. “Sure, lead the way. Is this, uh… something that might get a little hairy?” It was that part of town after all. Harsh didn’t come here much if he could help it, but he had heard plenty of rumors. “I’ve got your back, Milo, just need to know what I’ve gotta do to cover it.”  

Milo so desperately wanted to believe what he was hearing. Maybe it wasn’t all bad, maybe he would come to realise that over time. It was very clear Harsh had, which gave him a genuine sense of hope. He had been intentionally dismissing the idea of the future, of time passing and him staying the way that he was. But suddenly the future felt a little less scary, if only for a second. “You- you will?” He asked, surprised by the offer. Harsh was so ready to help him, it was a kindness he was no longer used to. After fending for himself, he had grown to assume nobody was going to notice him, nobody was going to make sure he was okay, or teach him how to deal with the complications of his new life. “Why are you helping me?” The question escaped him before he could contemplate how rude, or dismissive it might sound. “No- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...” He trailed off, pushing his hair away from his face where it was clinging to his damp skin. “I just mean… you don’t have to, you know? Nobody else has… but you are.” A grim smile tugging at his lips, it was comforting to hear somebody talk about rehab in the same way he talked about rehab. His parents refused to understand he didn’t want it, he didn’t need it. They continually tried to force it upon him. It only served to strengthen his trust in the man beside him. “They never fucking listen to me.” He admitted. “It’s a choice, it’s not like I have to. Rehab is for addicts...”  

He knew a lot could be said about the fact that he was insisting they visit his dealer before they left. And a lot could be said about the fact he was so panicked by potentially having no reliable source for his substances. But he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. Those were his mother’s words echoing inside his head. Her tone disapproving, almost, almost smug. Sometimes he wondered whether she actually enjoyed looking for loopholes in his logic. Maybe she did it just to spite him. His shoulders dropping with relief when Harsh agreed to follow him, he shook his head with a tired laugh. “No… no, not like that.” He admitted, beginning to walk in the direction he first had been. His hands were still balled in his pockets, nails digging into his palms as he considered the two hungers promised to be sated tonight. “I just- I don’t trust myself.” If he could blush, he knew his face would be glowing red. It was an embarrassing thing to admit. “I guess I’m also scared you might be some kind of hallucination, like if I turn away for a second you’ll just… be gone.” He felt a thousand times more vulnerable after being so honest, but he was smart enough to know it would be counterproductive to lie to somebody who might understand, who might be able to make him feel less ridiculous. “You are real, right? I’m not- I’m not going insane?” Jeez, how far had he fallen to need to ask that question?  

So this was gonna be a thing now. Great. Harsh had gone and volunteered himself to be a babysitter for who knew how fucking long. But that was… fine. This was the kinda shit that would’ve gotten him points for his stupid deal. A deal that was long gone now. But… hell, maybe he could get a new one. Maybe teaching Milo how not to get himself dusted would earn him some brownie points somewhere. And it wouldn’t hurt to have someone to talk to who wasn’t a fucking hunter. He gave Milo a little shrug. “If it was me, I’d want help. Like I said, I’ve been doing this for a while. I know how bad things can go if no one shows a new kid the ropes.” He nodded a little. So, this guy was definitely more than just a blood junkie. But hell, Harsh wasn’t in any spot to judge. Everyone had their vices. It didn’t sound like it was Milo’s fault that he got another one added on top of that. “Right? People get so judgey about that kind of stuff. I gamble a little too much a few times and people start handing me fliers for therapy and counseling. It’s such a drag. It’s my business, y’know? I know what I can handle.” 

This was probably one of the worse choices he had made in a while, following some new vamp he just met to probably go meet someone who was all kinds of shady. But whatever. Not like Harsh had anything better to do with his time. It was either this or pretend to patrol for another couple hours. “Ah, gotcha,” he said, nodding. “I’ll keep an eye on things. I’ll leave it to you, but if you start getting too antsy, I can bail you out.” Better to learn by doing. Harsh was going to help, he’d already agreed and he was a lot of things, but he kept his word. Mostly. When he felt like it. He cocked an eyebrow at the question. “Well, if I was a hallucination, I don’t think that saying I’m not one would help. But if I am one, I’m a pretty self aware hallucination. I can pinch you if you want.” He clapped Milo on the shoulder. Maybe the weight of his hand would at least be sort of reassuring. “Look, lets go talk to this guy, and if he can see me too, you’ll know you’re not imaging things, right?”  

Milo couldn’t argue with that. He had caught a glimpse of how bad things could become, had already taken one life in his struggle to understand what was happening. If he hadn’t been told by a passerby that he was a vampire now, he had no way of knowing how many other people could have gotten hurt. And that had been the bare minimum. Left to fend for himself, he had been longing for so many things. But scared, and confused, and Hell, lonely, somebody to help him had been at the very top of his list. A strange sense of relief washing over him, he could very nearly cry at Harsh’s words. Finally somebody who understood. What were the chances it would be another vampire? A person willing to walk him through this terrifying, disorientating change? “Exactly!” He agreed, maybe with a little too much enthusiasm. He couldn’t help himself. He felt so justified, so validated in his habits. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel judged, or alienated, or patronised. He was just Milo to this man, and that meant more than he could possibly put into words.  

Nodding quietly in thanks when his new friend promised to keep an eye on things, it wasn’t long before they began to near the meeting point his dealer had arranged. Offering Harsh a genuine smile when he tried to assure him he wasn’t a hallucination, the hand on his arm really did help to ground him, to remind him that this wasn’t some crazy, fucked up dream. “I’m pretty sure hallucinations can be self-aware, you know- if you hallucinate them that way.” He replied, if only to make conversation, and brush off how paranoid his previous concern had managed to make him sound. He wanted to apologise, to explain how much of a mess he was, but he had a feeling that might already be painfully clear. “Okay.” He said, figuring the suggestion was a pretty good way to make sure Harsh was definitely real. “Okay, that sounds good.”  

Rounding a corner to appear on a near empty street, he recognised the figure waiting at the end of the road almost immediately. His dealer of two years, Jay, was leaning casually against a lamppost, and he made a point of holding his breath before he could get near enough to catch his scent. No doubt his company would pick up on that, but right now he couldn’t bring himself to care. He hurried up to the familiar face, watching Jay as he cautiously eyed Harsh from where he was standing. It had been long enough for Jay to know he could be trusted as a customer, which was probably the only reason he didn’t look annoyed by the unexpected presence of a witness. “He’s cool.” He murmured quietly, overwhelmed with an emotion he couldn’t quite place at the realisation that Harsh wasn’t a figment of his imagination. Slipping his cash into Jay’s hand, it wasn’t long until he was given a small baggie in return. Shoving it into his pocket, he shot him a smile in lieu of thanks before turning on his heel to make his way back over to where Harsh was waiting for him. Not for the first time he found himself grateful that buying drugs had never been considered a social event. You got in, and you got out. Why wasn’t everything that simple? Listening to Jay’s footsteps as they faded into the distance, he suddenly realised he didn’t know what was supposed to happen next. Once again, he was being thrown into the unknown. Or maybe he was choosing to jump… Hopefully, this time, somebody would be waiting to catch him.  

Harsh had been around the block a few times. Though he had kept his addictions to blood and shifty poker games, he knew how they could get their hooks in, even long after death. And it sure as shit wasn’t going to help Milo if some asshole he just met started lecturing him on his habits. Not that Harsh was really the lecture type. He never had been. If Milo wanted to work that shit out, that was on him. But the vampire thing… that was more pressing. Newly turned vamps were always a concern. The more attention they drew, the harder things got for everyone else. Unless he turned them, Harsh tended to keep his distance. Too late for that here. But hell… it didn’t hurt to have someone around to talk to who kept the same hours and wouldn’t be grossed out by blood bags in the fridge.  

So that was definitely Milo’s dealer. Harsh hung back, expression casual, though he made sure to get a good look at the guy. Just in case. Milo was still new at this, and there was a good chance people who he ran into on a bad day could end up face down in a ditch somewhere. Or, if the guy caught on, well… he might have to end up there anyway. Better to wait to make a call there, see how things went. Maybe Harsh would never have to think about this guy again. Ha, as if things were ever that easy here. He clapped Milo on the shoulder as he made his way back over. “Everything good?” 

A stupid thought crossed Harsh’s mind. Just a really, absolute shit idea. But it didn’t go away. He gave Milo a long glance. The guy looked rough, like maybe he had been sleeping on a lot of couches lately. Probably assuming too much, but… fuck it. “So, you got a place to go, man? Y’know, it’s funny running into you, I’ve been looking for a roommate for ages. Not saying that to pressure you or anything. But… if you need a place to crash, I’ve got a new place and a couple extra blood bags in the fridge. Just saying.” 

Milo exhaled the breath he had been holding, doing nothing to hide his sense of relief. It was so much easier when he was with Harsh, he realised. Not just because he felt as though somebody was finally here to support him. But because Harsh smelled differently to other people. There was no heartbeat, no urge to drain him of blood. It was like a weight being lifted from his shoulders. He nodded quietly in response to the question, grateful for the concern. “Yeah, I think so… thank you.” It wasn’t lost on him that this man had absolutely no obligation to help. And yet he had followed him to meet his dealer, had made an active effort to ensure his safety. Why? He wasn’t gaining anything in return. As if to make the whole thing even more perplexing, he was hit by an unexpected question. One that embarrassingly had tears blurring his vision. He hurried to blink them away, hoping his company wouldn’t notice.  

“I- no.” He admitted, staring in disbelief. “No… I don’t have anywhere.” Was he really being offered a place to stay? A safe place where he could live, and learn, and ask any questions he might have about his new condition? After so long of being alone, of struggling to find food, this couldn’t be happening. It didn’t make any sense. Even humans weren’t liable to help people like him, people with bad attitudes, and questionable habits. Surely vampires were no different. “I- only if-” He broke off, so overwhelmed that he found himself unable to form a coherent sentence. “Only if you have space- I don’t want you to feel like you have to…” He swallowed, lowering his gaze to the floor. “If you mean it, like really mean it… then that would be… I’d like that.”  

“No problem, man.” It was easy to offer Milo a smile. So far, he didn’t seem like an asshole, just like some confused kid. Harsh wasn’t the best when it came to guessing ages, but he seemed young. That plus scared and nowhere to go was a rough combination. So his guess was pretty dead on. It was probably an offer he should’ve thought about more, letting some random guy he literally found on the street come back to his new slightly less shitty apartment. But hell, he had made worse calls, some of them pretty recently. He slung an arm around Milo’s shoulders. “I mean it. I’ve got room, and… y’know, people like us, we’ve gotta stick together. The world isn’t going to hand you a bunch of blood on a silver platter. I’ve been doing this for a while, got a couple tricks I can teach you.” 

He turned the both of them, the stake in his pocket long forgotten. Harsh’s fake patrols could go on hold tonight. Not like anyone was watching to make sure he stuck to his whole slayer routine. Hell, maybe he could get Milo in on that too, might make things easier for the  both of them. Lightly pulling Milo along, he started back toward his… their apartment. “C’mon, kid, let’s go home.”

[pastelbrachypelma]

Blind Date

Requested by @swampythesweetsketch ! Thank you for your suggestion and I hope you like it!

~

“I’m so nervous,” Murray admitted, sitting in front of the mirror and staring at himself. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Dude, c’mon!” Sly retorted, barely looking up from where he was putting a top coat over Murray’s nail polish. “If he doesn’t like you, then I’m Santa Claus!”

“That can be arranged,” Bentley teased. “Seriously, though, Murray. Just be yourself. That’s how to be the most attractive.”

“Yeah,” Murray looked away. “I guess. But…”

“Hey,” Sly slid onto the vanity, gently pushing aside a makeup palette with his tail as he sat directly in front of his friend. “Stop worrying, okay?” He grinned. “You know this guy is into you. You’ve been talking for ages. It’s worth a shot at least, right?”

“Right!” Murray squared his shoulders like he was going into battle, and wasn’t wearing holographic nails and a smokey eye. “Thanks for doin my topcoat for me, Sly. And thanks for helping me with my suit, Bentley.”

“No problem,” his brothers said simultaneously.

Sly patted Murray’s shoulder. “Go get ‘im, pal.”

“We’ll be waiting,” Bentley promised.

Murray smiled, and headed out the door.

“All right, Sly,” Bentley said, “you know what to do.”

Sly grabbed his binocucom and cane. “On it!”

~

Murray was already nervous enough being in a sizable crowd with bounty on his head, but, just as Sly had assured him, Murray was the best at disguises out of all of them, and nobody would recognize “The Murray” with makeup on.

He liked his makeup look; just a foundation to match his skin tone, a little contour, blush, and a smokey eye. Sly had helped with his nails, and they looked good. It wasn’t like Murray couldn’t have done it on his own, but Sly wanted to help, and he was better at nails than at eyeliner. Murray chuckled to himself, thinking of the last time Sly tried to do a winged liner. He’d looked even more like a raccoon than usual!

He was sitting alone at the table, waiting for his date, like he had been for the better part of an hour. Every time the door opened, he would look up, expecting to see a handsome man looking for his table. But, it was just couples or families. He sighed. He was sure a blind date would’ve been better, seeing as nobody could turn him down just because of his weight, but maybe the guy had guessed, judging by how much Murray talked about recipes. Or maybe he thought Murray was a sissy, or…

The door opened again, to someone by themselves. Except Murray could recognize that tail in his sleep. Sly had a satin jacket over a button-down shirt, hair slicked back. He was wearing the dance shoes they’d stolen from India, and was looking a little lost. Murray was a bit worried for two reasons. The first was that Sly was here at all; had something happened? The second was that Sly could only handle big crowds if he was at a social event. Parties, he liked. There were excuses to mingle in small groups. He had never liked large throngs of people. If Sly has a panic attack…

But instead, Sly found him (after pretending to have been looking for him) and waved. Murray waved back, confused, as Sly strode forward confidently through the crowd.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Sly said, brushing dust off his lapels. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“You didn’t,” Murray said, a bit confused. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Sly demurred, giggling shyly. “Oh, don’t be silly! How could I ever turn down a hunk like you?”

Murray wanted to laugh. Sly liked playing the effeminate gay. The question was, why was he doing that in the first place? At that moment, the door to the restaurant opened again, and Bentley rolled his wheelchair inside. People who were waiting for a table stepped aside to give him room. He was disguised as well, a cloth hat matching the more casual dark wash denim jacket he was wearing over a black necktie. Murray could appreciate the aesthetic...but he was still confused.

Bentley made his way towards the table. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, pitching his voice deeper in contrast to the way Sly’s had been more high-pitched. “Hey! What’re you doing here?” He glared at Sly.

“I should be asking you the same thing,” Sly pointed an accusing finger at Bentley. “I’m here for my date!”

“So am I,” Bentley said, and Murray smiled, starting to catch on. “One of us has the wrong table and you, buddy,” the turtle wheeled into Sly’s space, making the raccoon step back, hand splayed on his heart in dramatic offense, “are definitely at the wrong table. This gentleman is far too handsome for you!”

“I think he’s just the right amount of handsome,” Sly argues. “Just look at those bulging muscles,” he gestured, and Murray flexed, having a bit of fun now that he was in on the joke. “A man like that deserves the world!”

“Guys, you’re gonna make me blush,” Murray grumbled under his breath. Sly winked before sliding back into character as Bentley charged further.

“And? You still kept this gorgeous man waiting! Look at the poor guy’s makeup! All smudged because you were off…” Bentley waved his hand as he searched for an insult, “vaping!”

Sly gasped. “Do you think I would smoke around such a deceptively delicate flower?! The nerve!”

Murray looked over again as the restaurant doors opened. It was his real date, a buck with gold chains draped artfully around his antlers, dressed to the nines in a slimming suit to complement his slender body. Murray recognized the designer logo on his tie, and felt shame creep up his throat as he thought of his thrifted jacket and pilfered shirt. Even the silk skirt he was so proud of made him feel like a freak next to this guy.

“What’s going on here?” The buck spoke, his voice like molten chocolate, as he approached the table. “Which of you is Murray?” His eyes slid approvingly over Sly, and Murray hid his face. “I hope it’s you, handsome.”

“Sorry,” Sly slid in beside Murray, hooking his arm through the hippo’s. “I’m taken. Happily.”

“Me too.” Bentley took Murray’s hand, glaring at the buck.

The deer narrowed his eyes, then laughed. “Oh, thank god,” he said, relieved. “I could never be seen with such a,” he waved his hand derisively, “hideous beast.”

“Hey,” Sly said, voice sharp despite the different pitch. Murray recognized it as the raccoon’s “don’t fuck with me” voice, a rarely seen anger flashing in his eyes. “Murray is amazing! He’s funny and kind and always knows what to say!”

“His strength and skill can’t be matched!” Bentley agreed.

“And tonight, he’s my date.” Sly declared. “So fuck off.”

“No, he’s my date,” Bentley argued. “You fuck off!”

As his two friends bickered, Murray watched the deer walk away. He felt a little bit upset at the rejection, but his friends were nearby, defending him on what was technically their night off. He felt warm inside even so. It was good to be with his brothers again.

Once the deer was out of sight, Sly deflated. “Ack, my throat,” he complained. “I don’t know how you do those high-pitches voices, Murray. I feel like I’ll be raspy by tomorrow!”

Murray chuckled. “It takes practice.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Bentley suggested. “I think we’ve caused enough of a scene.” He glanced at the table. “Nothing needs to be paid for, right?”

“Nope. I didn’t order yet.” Murray replied.

“Let’s get Chinese,” Sly said, stretching as Murray got to his feet. “I saw a great place on the way over.” He locked his arm through Murray’s, hiding a yawn in the hippo’s bicep.

“Do you mean you saw it or smelled it?” Bentley asked, guiding Murray to the handles of his chair. That was about equivalent to hand-holding, Murray knew.

Sly laughed. “Both!”

“Chinese sounds fantastic,” Murray said, sighing in the fresh air. He was still upset about being stood up. He was glad for his friends, but…

“That guy was a complete jerk,” Bentley grumbled, going back to controlling his own chair as Sly let go of Murray. It wasn’t a sudden “no homo” sort of thing, though. It was more of a natural progression as they walked together on the sidewalk, with Bentley’s chair a half-step ahead. “What didjya day his name was?”

“Pierce Monogram,” Murray said. “Trust fund baby, I think. Works in the family business selling shoes.”

“That’s ironic,” Sly mused, swinging his arms up to rest behind his head as he walked. “He wasn’t wearing shoes.”

Murray laughed. “No, I guess he wasn’t. That’s a dealbreaker for me.”

“Murray, you don’t wear shoes either,” Bentley said.

“Exactly!” Murray went on, still laughing. “Somebody has to wear the shoes in the relationship!”

All three of them laughed, and couldn’t stop laughing until they reached the Chinese.

~

“Ah, the smell of sweet, sweet MSG,” Sly licked his lips as he set out the various cartons and bowls.

“This isn’t going to give me indigestion, is it?” Bentley asked skeptically, wrinkling his nose.

“No, no, I got your egg rolls and plain rice here,” Sly set out the food separately for Bentley before using a set of chopsticks to serve himself liberal amount of pork fried rice and vegetable lo mein, claiming one of the containers of scallion pancakes for himself.

“Man,” Murray grinned, slurping his hot and sour soup, “I forgot how good Chinese food actually is.”

“Right?!” Sly beamed. “Glad I thought of it. I haven’t had a good Chinese in months!”

“It’s delicious, I agree. Pass the wonton soup, Murray?” Bentley asked.

“What’re we watchin?” Sly asked between shoveling noodles into his mouth.

Murray blushed. “Are you guys gonna kill me if I say I wanna watch “Pitch Perfect” again?”

Sly swallowed noisily. “Nah, I like that one all right. It’s funny.”

“I’ve no objection,” Bentley said, taking off his glasses momentarily to clean them of the fog from his soup. “It’s date night, after all. You always pick the films for date night.”

“You guys still wanna call it date night?” Murray asked.

The gang had always jokingly held “date nights” for self care, movies, and video games. But that had been before Murray was officially out of the closet. His friends were straight. He thought they hadn’t had a date night in a while because his friends didn’t want to do that sort of this with him now that he was out as gay.

Sly leaned forward. “You okay, big guy?”

Murray sniffled. “I...I dunno, I thought you guys...didn’t wanna do this with me anymore.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Bentley asked.

“I’m gay,” Murray confessed. “I like guys.”

“So?” Sly twitched his tail in confusion. “You’re still my brother. My friend.” He waved his tail in Murray’s face, making the hippo sneeze. “In case I haven’t made it abundantly clear,” the raccoon snuggled up properly against Murray’s side, chittering quietly, “I love you, pal.”

“So do I,” Bentley affirmed. “And...not to be too blunt about it, but...it was pretty obvious to me that you weren’t straight. But,” he cleared his throat, smiling. “That never mattered to me. You’re still my brother. And I still love you.”

Murray rubbed the tears out of his eyes. “Thanks, guys.”

“Sure thing, Murray,” Sly replied, butting his head against Murray’s shoulder before sitting up to properly shovel more food down his throat.

“I’ll get the DVD,” Bentley abandoned his food momentarily and rolled his chair over to set up the TV. Once he was done, he took his food and rolled closer to the couch, so Murray could enjoy his comfort, too.

Murray smiled warmly, happily chowing down on Chinese food and shouting all the words to the songs at the top of his lungs.

That was the best part about being home, Murray decided as he laughed at Sly nearly choking on a wonton and Bentley snorting soup out his nose. Being with the people who loved you unconditionally.