#it branched off quite a bit that listing this as an actual part two would be kind of awkward now - but that was the initial intention

[ruporas]

kisses of affirmation (ID in alt)

#vashwood #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun #trigun maximum #ruporas art #oughrhhhh finally posting this here..... Very Romancey very Cutesy Very what do you call it... Indulging #for the longest time i debated on whether to post this comic at all on my socials - for some reason this was almost the limit to how far i #could push a romantic alternative that cusps ooc-ness for vw but then i ultimately decided its Fine. i couldv made it much more unbearable. #someone on twit qrt this with “vash is such a loser” which means i havent lost my way completely yet so its ok #(sidenote) script is a bit old !! bc this was meant to be a part two to an old comic..! the first kiss comic from feb #it branched off quite a bit that listing this as an actual part two would be kind of awkward now - but that was the initial intention #anyway. please enjoy! #long post

[stargazer-dreamer]

It's on the Tip of My Tongue Chapter 2

character: yami sukehiro

content warnings: denial of feelings, jealousy

reader: gender neutral; ring magic user

chapter list: 1, 2 [you are here]

notes: also on ao3. 2k word count. pre-relationship. part of the stoprewind verse

Mealtimes at the Black Bulls were chaotic. In the week leading up to your official first day, you had no idea—you hadn’t dined a single meal with them. Either out for lunch with Finral during a break, or so focused on getting your room cleaned that you didn’t notice the plate left for you at the door until it grew cold, you hadn’t sat down at the table with everyone until the ebony robe sat upon your shoulders and the paperwork was properly filed away. And even then, it took the witch coming out to find you and bring you back already in the thick of it to get you to understand exactly how hectic things could get.

It was well-past noon, and you and Yami had wandered aimlessly throughout the forest talking. It turns out, he was serious about getting to know you—but his version of this seemed to only consist of asking unrelated questions one after another until you were sure he didn’t actually care about the answers he was getting at all. It became quite repetitive, a question and a reply, the captain barely sparing a moment to reflect on your answer given until he’s moved on to the next.

He probably does this to all the new guys, you thought, stepping over a fallen tree branch in the path, to help them feel included. You were going to be living under the same roof—you figured the plan was that Yami would spend some quality time with you before returning back to his normal routine. Break the ice, learn some facts about you, converse a little. The two of you were, after all, supposed to be working closely together from then on out. It made sense that he would be working from a mental script—he was the captain. This was apart of the job.

Nothing else to it. Nothing at all. But I didn’t know Yami was such a poor conversationalist…

It was starting to get ridiculous. You watched as he bent to pick the branch off of the ground. Pausing for a moment, he slowly rose to full height with it in hand, an unidentifiable look sitting on his face. Eyes on the branch, you watched as his eyebrows furrowed. And then, in a large swooping motion, he whipped the branch to the side. You blinked. He did it again, and again, and again, and with one step forward one more time, before straightening back up again.

After a pause, he looked at you, tossing the branch to the side. He said—“What do you like to eat?”

For a moment, all you could do was stare. What kind of a demonstration was that? And that’s what he decided to ask you? Mouth opening trying to formulate a response, you were needlessly cut off by a rising, grumbling noise. It came from Yami’s direction. The longer it continued, you realized that it was coming from the captain himself. Namely: his stomach.

“Oh!” you bit back a laugh, understanding the question now. “Oh, you’re—okay, yeah! We can find a place in town. Here—” a ring left one of your fingers and hovered in midair between the two of you. “There’s a place I really like that serves—”

“There you two are!”

Voice drowned out by the sudden interruption, the two of you looked skybound. Up higher than the trees, a figure on a broomstick waved, her dark robe stark against the sky. Flying in a sweeping circle, she found a break in the treeline and descend; the wide brim of her hat fluttering in the wind as she did. Landing, she walked over with the stick over her shoulder. Her eyes shone like jewels, tinted lips curving the closer she got. She was recognizable even from a glance—Vanessa Enoteca.

“I was sent to look for you guys!” she said, with a hand on her hip. She was as beautiful as they say. Perhaps moreso, in person. “Figured you guys would be in town by now, but now that I think about it—this makes way more sense!” She smiled at you like she knew something, but you were certain you had absolutely no clue on what exactly that something was. Before you had time to respond however, her gaze traveled. “A quiet little outing—I didn’t expect that from you, Yami!”

The captain shifted his weight, reaching for a new cigarette and swatting at your still-floating ring, causing it to return to your finger.

The action didn’t go unnoticed, but, “Lunch is ready,” she was carrying on. “Let’s get back and eat!” And with that, she turned on her heels and started down the path with a bounce in her step.

Hesitating, you adjusted the now resting ring on your finger. The final piece of the puzzle put itself into place in your mind as Yami’s hand came down gently on your shoulder as he passed you, leaning down so his next words were heard by you only—“Next time,” he said, scratching the hairline at the back of his neck. The action drew him closer, and his next words came quieter, a rumble that shot exactly to where it shouldn’t—“There’s a place I like. I’ll take you.”

---

Despite the order of finding work, it seemed like the entire squadron was there; filling their plates high and chatting all the while, loud and boisterous—this was the Black Bulls you knew. Sitting in a circle around a rather large table, chairs and sofas had been moved to gather around; the common room transformed into a space to share a meal together. The noise was incredible, each person’s voice raised to speak over the other, seemingly in a constant loop that grew louder and louder by the second.

“Captain!” called the man with the mohawk. Magna Swing, with his gloves still on and sunglasses pushed up towards his hairline. “I saved seats for you!” He patted heartily at the loveseat beside him, nestled between him and Finral. “Come eat!”

Vanessa found a seat on the opposite end of the table—and it appeared that the only remaining place for you was right next to Yami. A bit sheepishly, you followed him into the fray and sat down. It was a bit of a tight fit—the loveseat was of average size but Yami’s bulk was anything but average. An unfortunate shift in your seat could have your thighs pressed up against each other—and following that specific line of thought, you snuck a peek sideways out of the corner of your eye.

He was silent, face once again unreadable as he filled his plate with the buffet before him. The reach of his arm going across the table towards the various foods stretched his muscles nicely, and when he pulled back, the shape of his biceps had you—

At least Finral was on the other side of you. “Welcome back,” he smiled. “You two were gone for a while.” There was a certain lit to his voice, one that brought to mind the memory of earlier in the day, when just about everyone had laid witness to the misunderstanding in front of the base.

Your face burned. “N-no! We were just talking!” You looked towards Yami but any additional input you hoped he would have provided was nonexistent—his plate now towered high with several portions worth of food. He slapped thieving hands away, the movement drawing your eyes to the ring encircling his finger. Stealing the light, it sat vivid against his skin and the scars that embedded him. A new connection; a bond formed between the two of you, the ring a symbol of your—

“We were just talking,” was your explanation. For everything. “Just walking around the woods!”

Finral gave you another smile, polite this time, and raised his glass to his lips. “Okay, okay. I won’t embarrass you.”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” came Yami’s voice before the overloaded plate was dropped in front of you. “Figured we’d talk in peace. Finally. What with you hogging up my new ride’s time and all.” His face was still indescribable, but the angle of his brows were curious as he locked eyes with Finral. “Couldn’t even offer a simple hello before you started portaling across the entire kingdom.”

There was a certain hardness coming from the captain. A pressure that weighed you down, leaving you sinking into the cushions as suddenly an awkwardness settled within the room; a haze that slowly drowned out every voice. Not so subtlety, conversations stilled and all eyes came to your side of the table.

Avoiding every gaze, you focused your attention on the food. There was just about everything on that plate, the entire buffet’s worth of selection spilling over each other and tumbling down the tower every so often—and a glance at Yami found him without a plate of his own. Admittedly, with so many different flavors and textures mixed together, it didn’t look very appetizing at all—but a fork was passed over to you, so you started to dig in, if only to appear that you weren’t paying attention.

Picking at the bread, you listened as Finral sputtered. “I was just doing what you asked of me!” his eyes flickered in your direction. “Come on, I’m not trying to—we still have a lot of places to mark—”

“Now you suddenly want to work.” Coming from Yami, it didn’t sound like a question.

You knew of Finral’s reputation—he was known to slack off, often found leisuring around the castletowns instead of working. You frowned, remembering that day in the alleyway. The two of you were paired up immediately, imprinting upon countless and countless of locations, so really, who’s fault was it that you were often together? Besides, Finral was working—what was wrong with that? From what you’ve heard, he was usually off flirting…

Cutting through your thoughts like a hot knife, your attention was pulled across the table towards the starry-eyed boy from before as he called out to you. The conversation happening at your side drowned out as you tried to remember the kid’s name.

“Asta!” he supplied. “From Hage Village!” You didn’t know where that was. “I didn’t get the chance to ask you before—what kind of magic do you use?”

His obliviousness to the confrontation happening literally right in front of him was a breather, causing a soft reset in the vibe at the table overall. Slowly, conversations started to pick back up and the noise level steadily grew—not to what it once was, but high enough to no longer be as obvious about the eavesdropping as before.

“It’s ring magic,” you explained, trying to concentrate. With multiple conversations happening all around you—including the one currently flying over your head—you were finding it exceedingly difficult to hear yourself. “I can do a lot of things with it, but it follows the basic functions of rings as a whole.”

Asta shoveled food into his mouth as he looked at you in awe. Without swallowing, he asked, “What’s that?”

“Communication. At least, that’s how I think of it.” You thought of playing with your mother’s jewelry box as a child, and fiddling with her rings. They were cheap things, bought on whims, but you didn’t care. They were beautiful; hers, a piece of her left with you while she worked long hours, away from home. You felt your heart start to swell at the thought of it. Inspired, you carried on. “A ring usually signifies a bond or status, so I can use them as communication or tracking devices. Opening portals is what I do the most though—it’s just so much easier to take one step as opposed to walking all the way across town.”

Suddenly solemn, your eyes lowered as you remembered: “It’s not a really desirable attribute though, since it’s so easily replaceable with actual magical items. And it’s no good in a fight.”

“What are you talking about? It sounds like you could do all sorts of cool stuff,” Asta chewed. “Besides, it doesn’t matter what other people think—aren’t you here because of your magic?”

You didn’t know what to say.

“If you want to learn how to fight, I can teach you!” A messy-haired boy spoke up from the other end of the table. You recognized him as Luck Volta; and if his reputation is anything to go by, you knew taking him up on that offer was a bad idea.

His static raising your hair already, you frantically shook your head—“No, thank you, really, I’m not good at that—”

“If you need help with your magic, you should ask Gauche!” A small girl was stuffing her face. As she paused to down her drink, you were able to catch a glimpse of her features—Charmy Pappitson. She pointed in the direction of the man in question. “He’s usually using an item, too—he could probably give you some good advice!”

Gauche Adlai was looking at a photograph in his hand, hardly touching his food at all. Monotone, he replied, “I only help my sister.”

“Focusing on one aspect of your magic isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” Vanessa sipped directly from a bottle. “You’re working on portals, right? I heard you can make a whole lot more than you used to—and it’s only been a week! You should give it a proper spin.” Before you could ask what that meant exactly, the shine in her eyes appeared again as she stood up from her seat. Circling the table quickly, she came to a stop behind you. With each arm, she pulled both Finral and Yami closer, encaging you in a huddle of sorts.

“Okay you two, I think we can all agree that Finral can take a little break,” she smiled. “Yami! Why don’t you two lovebirds go on that mission you were talking about earlier?” She shot you a wink, “The two of you are perfect for the job!”

#yami sukehiro #black clover #black clover fic #black clover fanfic #black clover fanfiction #yami sukehiro x reader #yami sukehiro x you #yami sukehiro x y/n #black clover imagine #black clover imagines #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #stoprewind #thank you guys for all the nice comments on chapter 1 <3 #admittedly this wasnt originally supposed to be ''chapter 2'' but #since this takes place during the same day i figured i should keep them together. #ive been slowly chipping away at this since april *wipes sweat* #ive been suffering from major writers block for months #anyways i hope you enjoy

[mitsu-of-the-moon]

Turtle pile, but this time with a good ending

Ok so. Disclaimer. This is my first fic ever and its about @somerandomdudelmao rottmnt AU. (this shows how much I am into this AU, it's seriously a masterpiece)

I was thinking about the arc just before all the turtles (past and future) reunited... and I had an idea of how the turtles would react to a sick Future!Donnie.

anyways, here it is!

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

After coming back to life in another time branch, bringing back his brothers from the apocalypse and concluding that death is fixable, Donnie forgot that he is not actually omnipotent, God or a perfectly oiled machine.

This grounding truth became obvious when one evening, while he was working on the time-machine, his movements became sloppier, and a pounding headache started to grow from the sides of his head. The irrational part of his brain (a very little part of his brain to be honest) brought him back to his time branch, in those days in which the symptoms of the krang infection started manifesting. But no, he shook his head as if to obliterate that stupid irrational thought. It’s not possible that the krang infection remained in his body, both Barry and Mikey confirmed it.

Now, he just had to hide it from the rest of his brothers, which could be quite a challenge given the fact that they now lived all together and there isn’t an active apocalypse that is trying to kill them at any moment to distract them. Nice.

 Thankfully CJ was spending the night with their younger versions and April.

But really, it wasn’t that bad, after running a few quick tests on himself he found that the reason of his unwellness lied in the fact that his body became accustomed to the terraformed New York’s weather… aka as dry as the fucking Sahara Desert. Right now, in the normal New York it’s almost winter and let’s just say that the sewers’ humidity index is a tad bit higher than what he is used to…

Suppressing a few coughs, the softshell decided that it’s time to go to catch a few hours of sleep. He stood up from his chair, missing the heat and pressure it provided against his shell. Galileo… he hasn’t worn his battleshell in ages.  I have to add it to the list of things to do; now it’s not the right time. He lethargically made his way to his bed and carelessly flopped down. It was in that moment that he realized just how tired he was, his eyes burned from looking at his computer’s screen too much, his head was now throbbing in a very piercing way and all his body felt heavy. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was utterly exhausted he would have noticed a big red figure looking at him from the doorway of the lab.

When Leo woke up after a long and (finally) continuous 8 hours of sleep, he wasn’t feeling as relaxed as he thought. The slider looked at the time twice to confirm the amount of hours he actually slept, but not even a truckload of confidence could erase the deep feeling of anxiety in his gut. The anxiety wasn’t unusual; it was a feeling that he had to come to terms with during the difficult times of the apocalypse. What bugged him was that he hadn’t felt this particular type of anxiety for almost two years. The twin sense. But Donnie was ok; he was the one that brought him, Mikey and Raph to safety, he wasn’t frail like the last time he saw him, he didn’t have eyebags that were darker than the night sky. He. Is. Ok.

Groaning, he decided that it was time to get up, at least to shake off his irrational thoughts and to see with his own eyes that his brother was indeed fine and healthy. When Leo arrived in the kitchen he was met with the mouthwatering smell of Mikey’s pancakes. God he didn’t even realize how much he missed them. Raph was already at the table  eating the pancakes, he smiled at the view, he would have never thought this moment could ever be possible, but here we are.

“Hey, Mr sensei? You done staring? Do you want the pancakes or not?”. The box turtle was leaning on the stove, his air put up in a bun, on one hand he had a spatula, on the other a ladle with some pancake batter in it.

“Good mornig hermanos! Michael, my dearest brother, right now, to my eye, you are an angel that has just blessed my day. I would die for just one piece of your pancake”. His orange brother chuckled and poured the mix in the pan. “No more dying, please. I’ll make as many as you want; go sit down”.

The slider made his way to the table, sitting in front of his older brother. He looked around, trying to find some trace of his twin.

“Has Donald already eaten?”

He knew that the answer was going to be negative; Donnie has always been a night owl, never too eager to wake up early in the morning. What he didn’t expect was his red and big brother to freeze mid bite.

“You ok big guy?”

Sensing the mood shift, Mikey approached them, putting a comforting hand over the snapper’s left shoulder. “You know you can talk to us Raphie” he smiled.

Raph sighed putting down the fork and placing his right hand over Mikey’s.

“I know… I just…” He sighed again, this time looking directly at Leo. Were those worry lines on his brother forehead? “'Look, I’ll bite the bullet or whatever. I have been having trouble sleeping, you know, with all the ‘I haven’t slept in more than 5 years' situation, and it’s fine! It really is! I know that it’s difficult to adjust, but I kind of liked my old routine. Back in the apocalypse I used to patrol the base and make sure you all were ok… it was the least I could do”.  The snapper lowered his gaze, frowning deeply. “The only person that Raph had some trouble looking after was Donnie… at the time I didn’t realize it, but at some point, he started to lock the lab the night… I guess that was when he started getting sick.”

That was a stab in the chest for all of them. No one had noticed their brother’s decaying health; it took Casey to physically make contact with Donatello’s ribs to get them to open their eyes at the situation. Leo didn’t particularly enjoy thinking about how irresponsible of a leader, of a brother, he had been... everything could have been avoided if he just thought about doing periodic checkups on his brother, it wasn’t that absurd, but he overestimated the softshell’s capabilities of taking care of himself. Right now, though, his twin sense was screaming at him, and he had a feeling that Raph wasn’t just expressing his feelings in a little breakky therapist session. “Raph… look at me.” He searched his big brother’s eyes. Black eyes met black eyes. Red bandana met red stripes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Tonight, I heard Donnie cough. Badly.”

In that moment, Leo’s heart shattered.

After  a few freezing seconds that felt like ages the cold dread was broken by Mike, bless his heart, he really was an angel.

“let’s not worry too much about what we still don’t know. This place is quite dusty, it could have been that, right? We’ll let him sleep it off and in a few we are going to check on him.” The mystic warrior squeezed his brig brother’s finger (his hand was too big).

Leo looked at his little brother, one could have been fooled by his light smile, but that smile wasn’t reaching his eyes, and his hand was gripping too much Raph’s finger.

 The slider took a deep breath, he had to say it, to voice it in some way or he was going to go crazy.

“Do you guys think it could b-“

A loud crash interrupted him mid-sentence. Raph stood up immediately “It came from the lab!”.  Mikey started levitating, his eyes becoming that fluorescent hue of orange and began to sprint-fly towards the lab, followed closely by his brothers. They soon arrived at the lab which, thanks to Draxum’s interior design sense, didn’t have heavy metal doors that are extremely difficult to open.

“DONNIE?!”

Mikey’s scream was like an arrow to their chest, a waterfall of panic washed over Leo. Why didn’t he go to his twin sooner? Why didn’t he dare to check his brother? Why couldn’t he learn from his mistakes?

The lab was still dark, the only source of light were a few LED lights that Donnie started installing to the time machine and the original green/yellow lights. In the shadows only one thing cold be distinguished, their brother’s body on the floor, next to his lab chair.

“shit shit shi- Raph turn on the lights!”

The slider reached next to the softshell Mikey, he had a hand on his forehead, he was trembling slightly, his eyes had come back to their natural color. “L-Leo… He won’t wake up! I-I tried to call him, but he doesn’t respond “.

Raph returned and put his big hand on Mikey’s shell and began making circling movements to try and soothe him, but his eyes were glues to his other little brother unconscious body.  In the meantime, Leo had already taken on his role of medic, assessing the pulse and the breathing, noticing also the deep dark eyebags. He sighed in frustration; Donnie wasn’t  going to get out of this easily. “He definitely has a fever, but other than that I can’t say anything more…”  

The first thing that Donnie noticed was that his shell was cold. On a more accurate analysis, he found out that all his body was cold. Cold and sore to be more specific. Mh… he would rate this nap a solid 1/10. Wait. Nap? He didn’t remember falling asleep and his bed surely wasn’t this cold. As he slowly regained consciousness he became aware of other sensations and stimuli, like the pounding headache in his temples, dry throat and someone who was touching him. Right now the feeling wasn’t particularly appreciated.

“ghh- cough- cough”

Where was he??

“ie? Yo- th us? Donnie??”

A rough hand was positioned on his forehead. Ew it’s sticky. Gross.

“Leo?”

He slowly opened his eyes, his retina adjusting to the blinding lights in his lab. His lab? Wait the last thing he remembered was getting up to go rest, he was starting to feel shitty and- Ohh fuck.

“yeah, ‘oh fuck’. Donnie, it’s quite important, look at me.” He directed his gaze towards the source of the voice, to his left. Leo was on his knees, worry lines dug into his forehead. Behind him there were his brothers, both of them had similar expressions on their faces.

“Donald?” oh right, focus.

“yeah?” God, his voice was raspy.

“Do you think you can get up on you own?”

He really really really (3 reallys) hoped so. “I- yeah I think so”. The softshell began to get on his elbows, ignoring the blinding pain on his back and how much his vision was swaying. He couldn’t ask for Leo’s help. Not right now, because now thing are different, he is fine, he isn’t weak, frail or uncapable of doing the most basic things, like getting up or walking aided by a stick, like an old men. He had it, he fixed it. He managed to sit upright, his vision went black just for a few seconds as his body was trying to adjust to the change of position. When his vision returned normal, his eyes were met with a comforting and warm light which definitely wasn’t coming from the lightbulbs of the lab, it was coming from Mikey’s ninpo. His mystic brother was so gentle that he didn’t even realize that he was floating mid air.

“wait Micheal, I can walk, I swear”

He heard a few scoffs, coming from different directions.

“yeah, keep telling yourself that. Dummy.”

The warming feeling of his brother’s ninpo was a bit too comforting and sleep felt like a good idea.

“Donnie please try not to fall asleep”. This was Raph, he used his ‘big and responsible brother voice’, oh how much he missed that.

“mh, just resting my eyes”

Suddenly he flopped on the big couch in the ‘livingroom’. Mikey was in front of him, a frown of worry on his face. “Leo, I’m going to use my ninpo a bit harder now, I think you should stand back a little.”

Leo actually listened to Mikey, his gaze though didn’t leave the softshell. Raph looked worryingly at Mikey “Are you sure you are going to be alright?”

Mikey raised his arms towards Donnie, “Don’t worry big guy! A little Krang research didn’t aver hurt no one!”

Wait, Krang? It was in that moment, that Donnie realized that his brother thought that he was still infected. That he was still sick and weak. His brother was going to risk overusing his ninpo on a little cold.

“No wait Mikey!” Cough cough. “It’s not the Krang, I’m sure of it!” another cough.

Leo walked closer to the couch, positioning in front of him, his eyer on fire. “Donnie don’t be stupid. You couldn’t see it coming the first time, so why would you predict it now? Why wouldn’t we check after finding you unconscious?! We can’t lose you AGAIN Donnie! You can’t fix everything! And even if you can, sometimes prevent is better than cure!” His brother’s eyes began to water. “I can’t keep losing you… please let us check”.

Raph reached the slider and put a big hand on Donnie’s shoulder, “Leo’s right Donnie… we can’t be so sure, things are already too complicated right now, let us be sure about at least one thing, let us do it. Let Mikey check.”

The box turtle turned to him with a  bright smile, “It’s going to be quick, trust me”

Cold shivers run through the softshell’s body, and resulted in a shiver. “promise me that if you start feeling that something is off you are going to stop.”

All his brothers looked at him with an unreadable expression.

“Said the turtle who fainted, probably because of exhaustion.” Ok fair enough.

“touché”

The process was actually quite quick. As soon as Leo and Raph took a few steps back Mikey began to glow (he never got tired of seeing it), and when his little brother took his hands a hot sensation ran through his body, banishing the shivers from just a few seconds earlier.

After a few minutes the warm feeling was already gone, replaced by the sewer’s humidity.

Mikey smiled at his brothers “Donnie was right, there is no Krang.”

“told you so” cough cough.

A general sigh of relief could be heard from all of them.

“it’s this place’s fault, it’s too cold and humid compared to what we were used to.”

Leo flopped on the couch, right next to him and punched him on the shoulder. “Oh no! It’s totally your fault! You have again neglected your health like the workaholic you are! You can’t keep doing it!”

Mikey sat on the floor in front of them, “Leo… why don’t we argue later? Dr Delicate touch is going to pay a vist for sure,” he looked at Donnie, who was looking like he could fall asleep in any moment. “why don’t we make a turtle pile? It’s been ages”.

A turtle pile. Everyone remembered the last time they did it. That time Raph was a robot with a metallic and cold voice. Donnie was as frail as a stick, he was so weak that he couldn’t even sit.

But this time it was different.

Raph was real.

Donnie was just under the weather.

Death is fixable.

They are ok.

They are together.

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

the End. Comments and suggestions are always welcome!!

#cass apocalyptic series #CAS #fic tag #cass apocalyptic au #cass apocalypse fanfic #english is not my first language #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt leo #rottmnt raph #future donnie #bad future rottmnt #future mikey #future leo #future donatello #future leonardo #future michelangelo #future raph #future raphael #Fuck i realized just now that by doing copy+paste the bars that divided the paragraph didn't get pasted. #Now i no nor have the force to modify it #No beta we die like gram gram #My beta is myself at least a month after the pubblication so I can cringe at myself

[illfoandillfie]

2023 Advent: Day 18

So, for those who don't know, I watch a lot of book related content on youtube and at the end of November I was watching someone's TBR (to be read) game she was playing to pick what she'd read next. Partway through her game she asked her partner to help her and ya'll it was highkey giving some daddy dom vibes. So of course I had to write a blurb about it.

Big thanks to Lauren for helping me decide on Jack for this one.

Warnings: daddy kink, dom!Jack, sub!Reader, onlyfans, thumb sucking (not in a baby way), a lil degradation/humiliation, nothing especially explicit but references to bondage/sex toys/kink exploration/sex tapes/spanking/general kink stuff.

When you’d started making video content about books and what you were reading, you’d not expected it to end up the way it had. On OnlyFans. You’d had Youtube in mind, inspired by the people you followed there who reviewed new releases and the like. But Youtube had been harder to crack into than you’d expected and you had to be careful with how you spoke about certain topics or else your videos would be removed. Not ideal when spicy romance novels were your thing. In fact, it was after a video you’d made comparing language in a few different romance novels had been taken down, you facetiously told your boyfriend, Jack, you’d be better off posting on OnlyFans and then somehow it had stopped being a joke and you’d actually done it. And, to your surprise, got yourself something of a following. 

Your account had evolved a little since then. You still did the book reviews and chatted about what you were reading and upcoming releases that interested you. But you’d branched out a bit too. Now you also got your kit off. There were a handful of video demonstrations of literature themed sex toys like dragon dildos (perhaps a stretch to call literary) and the 50 Shades of Grey branded bondage equipment. You’d read books out loud whilst sitting on vibrators, modelled lingerie based on fictional characters, and discussed not only erotica fiction but also nonfiction about sexuality and kink. The overall theme of your content was smart is sexy and to emphasise it you always tried to dress the part, even when you were just talking to the camera, in an exaggeratedly sexy school uniform – microskirt, knee high socks, pigtails. Your dream was to be able to film something in an actual library or bookstore.  

Jack helped out and encouraged you. Mostly he stayed behind the scenes, helping with filming and lighting and even editing sometimes. But he also came in handy when you were making the more typically OnlyFans type content. There were videos where you recreated sex scenes from books, testing if the positions described were as easy to achieve as the novels would have you believe, and recently, you’d begun a weekly series going through The Art of Sex chapter by chapter. You’d give a brief run down on whatever position or kink the chapter of the week explored and then perform the act with Jack’s help. You weren’t quite sure what you were going to do when you reached the chapter on swinging but you were sure Jack would have an idea or two. Perhaps a role playing scene. 

One of your first series and one of your most innocent was your monthly TBR game. It was a concept taken straight from youtube. At the end of each month you posted a video where you’d draw out random prompts from a jar to help decide what books you’d read the next month. You filmed it sitting on the floor with a pastel pink cart full of books beside you, though of course wearing the sexy schoolgirl outfit. You opened the video discussing the books you’d read from the last TBR list. For every book you didn’t read, you earned five spanks which Jack was only too happy to give you. He hovered behind the camera waiting for his moment. Typically after that he wouldn’t appear in the video again. But, every so often, you needed his help.  

This time the prompt was too broad, and you were overwhelmed by choices. You sat there staring at your cart for much longer than you usually would, unsure what book to officially pick. It didn’t help that it was the first prompt of the video. You couldn’t even begin to guess what other prompts you might draw or which titles you might pick later. Jack normally only got to choose your books when the “Daddy’s pick” prompt was drawn but you decided this was a special occasion.  “Daddy,” you said, pushing yourself to your knees and looking at Jack who was standing to the side.  He adjusted the camera subtly to keep you framed nicely, “Do you need something darlin’?”  There was something about how he interacted with you during filming that made you switch into submissive mode. His tone of voice was so authoritative, and he was always fully dressed whilst you were so exposed and on the floor looking up at him. It made you go all little girly. “Which should I choose Daddy?”  Jack hummed and, to your surprise, stepped in front of the camera as he walked towards you. It made you tilt your head back further to see him and he took advantage of your position, stroking your cheek gently before laying his thumb against your lips.   It was second nature to draw it between your lips and suck as Jack hummed in thought.  “Pretty ironic that you tell everyone smart is sexy when you go completely stupid when you’re horny. Bet if I touched you now you’d be all wet from thinking about all these filthy books you read.” Jack examined the three books you’d pulled off your cart, his thumb still between your lips. Finally he tapped your cheek so you’d release him, bent over and picked up his choice. “I’ve decided to be nice and pick this one for you because I know it’ll be useful for a video you’re planning.”  You clapped excitedly, “I’d totally forgotten that Daddy, thank you!”  Jack chuckled, “Anytime darlin’,” He bent over to give you a small kiss before striding back behind the camera, “No go ahead and finish your game.” 

#my writing #my blurbs #blurb advent 2023 #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels smut #agent whiskey smut #jack daniels imagine #agent whiskey imagine

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

What are the chances?: Part 1.

So that’s what’s going on? Wow...

You know, I wouldn’t have to explain things to you if you’d actually joined us.

But Makoto, I...

I know you decided to quit Future Foundation. And even if I don’t totally agree with your decision, I understand and respect it.

But you don’t have to be there as Branch Leader. You can just be there as our friend. You said yourself you were still gonna try and help out, right?

And it’s not like Yoruko and Sora have any sort of high authority, outside of spokesperson, right?

True...

*Makoto and Hina arrive in the nearby town, and start looking around with a pharmacy. Makoto keeps a list of all the necessary medicines for Seiko in his pocket, given to him by Setsuka.

If Ando really can cure Seiko, then maybe she can give us the location of Organization Zetsubou’s base.

Even if she can’t, she can probably give us some insight into what they’re planning.

You seem super optimistic about all this given the situation we’re in.

What do you mean?

Not to be a negative nancy, but you make it sound so simple. Get Seiko to Ando, get him to cure her, problems solved.

Ando’s been missing for how long now? 7 years, you said, right? What are the chances that we’re just gonna find him now after all that time?

Hina...I think you’re REALLY underestimating my luck. After everything that’s happened, don’t you think it’s more likely now than ever.

Oh yeah, fair point...

*Hina giggles as she thinks about it.

For real though, what do you think actually happened to him? From the way it sounds, he was here one second then gone the next. How does something like that just happen?

Well, if we’re to believe Nagito’s words, Zetsubou have apparently been keeping him a hostage and are dangling his life in front of Inori to make her do what they say.

But...you do still have a point.

I do?

7 Years is a bit excessive. Kanata was only resurrected recently when they were able to build their own machine, and that was right before they kidnapped Seiko and brought Nagito into the Organization.

We don’t know exactly how long Zetsubou have been around, but they must have been planning this for a while. What could they possibly have done with him all this time?

...!

*Hina’s face suddenly goes pale.

Hina? What’s wrong?

I...I just had a terrible thought...

What...?

Ok...so...Dr Ando has been missing for 7 years right? And we believe all that time he’s been contained by Zetsubou somewhere, yeah?

Yes...?

And...Kanata Inori is Dr Ando’s adoptive daughter, right?

Yes, that’s right.

And...because of Kanata’s death, they haven’t seen each other in years. Ando probably doesn’t even know Kanata’s alive, right?

Maybe. Why?

Ok...

Have you ever seen the movie “Oldboy?”

No! Don’t...Even...Go there...!

Oh come on! They could be turning Ando and Inori into the next Dae-su and Mi-do for all we know!

You really think some wacked-off-her-mind weeb like Shirogane wouldn’t be into something like incest!?

What kind of messed up thoughts have you been having to arrive at that conclusion!?

Blame Chan-wook, not me! You know full well I could be right and you just don’t want to think about it!

No! I DON’T want to think about it! Give me literally anything else except that!

*sigh*...

...

Hey, don’t look so guilty...I’m not actually upset at you.

No, it’s just...you’re right about one thing. My mind hasn’t exactly been in a good place lately. I’m not as...well...hopeful as I used to be.

Yeah well...that makes two of us.

Huh?

I don’t really want to admit it, but I’m not as optimistic about this situation as I usually would be. 

I know that we can save our friends but...I’m only thinking about what it’ll cost to do so.

Don’t tell anyone else though. For now I need to keep putting on a brave face so they don’t get stressed out either.

Hey! Look, there’s the pharmacy!

*Sure enough, Makoto points towards a brightly lit pharmacy down the street. He starts heading towards it, but Hina hesitates.

Hina? You ok?

Huh? Oh...yeah...Sorry.

*Hina follows him.

What’s wrong? Did I say something bad?

No, no! You didn’t do anything wrong.

Thanks for being honest at least, but...are you sure you want to keep this up?

I don’t have a choice. I’m lucky enough that Komaru and I were able to make up after I snapped and attacked her. I’m not risking that happening with anybody else.

You’re too strong for your own good Makoto.

I wish that were true...

But hey, I’m glad to know that I’m not the only one stressing out. It doesn’t make the situation any better, but...I feel a little happier, if that makes sense.

N-Not that I find your stress and misery happy, I just mean-

I know what you mean. And I hope things get better for us from here on out.

Same. Heck, with your luck on our side, for all we know, the solution to all our problems could be right around the corner. We’ve just gotta look.

Now that’s being TOO optimistic. There’s no way my luck is capable of something like that-

*THUD!*

Ugh!

Woah!

*Makoto turns to head into the pharmacy, but bumps into someone leaving carrying a bag. The bag drops to the floor, and Makoto reaches down and picks it up.

Hah...Sorry about that. Wasn’t looking where I was going.

No, no, I’m sorry, I was in a rush and-

!?

!?

!?

!!!??

!!!??

!!!??

*Each side stares the other one down with tense eyes and shocked expressions for what feels like ages.

Uuuuuuuuuh...Hi~.

...Hi?

GEGH!

WHA-!?

*Out of nowhere, Uchui suddenly books it, running as fast as he can down the street.

What was-!? THAT WAS-!?

Wh-What do we do!?

Wha-!? CHASE HIM!? What do you THINK we should do!?

R-Right!

*Hina and Makoto run down the street after the crazed scientist.

Hina, get Kyoko and the Foundation on the line! We’ve got a physicist to catch!

#danganronpa survivor #danganronpa #danganronpa 1 #dr1 #oc #makoto naegi #aoi asahina #uchui porosen #ask #rise and shine arc

[beels-burger-babe]

Try it, I Dare You

*** Greetings! So this little fic is part of Familial Attachments which I wrote ages ago. I randomly got inspired by Big Bro! Lucifer and decided to branch off of it. Quick reminder that this MC is not a Teen! MC and therefore not underage. Thanks, everyone for the love and support! This fic is a long one. -B ***

Summary: As Lucifer forms a more familial bond with MC, the other brothers find themselves falling for the human romantically. Lucifer notes the changes in his brother's intentions and is not pleased.

Gaining you as an honorary little sibling was one of the best things to ever happen to Lucifer.

It gave him someone he could open up to, someone to fawn over, someone he could be soft with.

This change in dynamic between you and Lucifer had caused a number of things to change in the House of Lamentation in general.

You and Lucifer had become practically attached to the hip. Where you went, it seemed he wasn't far behind. The other brothers had joked that he had degraded himself to be your guard dog (a comment that had them all scrubbing the entirety of the hall's floors with their own toothbrushes), and in all honesty, he sort of had. Lucifer spent more time outside of his office, and would instead do his work in the lounge, where he could personally keep an eye on you.

It was this extra time around you that had caused Lucifer to begin to notice things.

It began, as most problems within the house do, with Mammon.

You had been talking with Mammon on the couch as Lucifer quietly did paperwork in the background.

He hadn't been listening in on the conversation (as frankly, it was none of his concern and you did deserve your own privacy), but your bright laugh had momentarily caught his attention.

When he glanced over, he saw you double over, nearly in tears from something Mammon had apparently said. It was nice.

What wasn't so nice, was the openly soft, adoring look that he was giving you under the knowledge that you weren't looking. His cheeks were dusted visibly flushed as his eyes glistened with affection.

Lucifer's eyes narrowed as the expression quickly disappeared once you turned to face Mammon once more and continue your conversation.

Paying closer attention now, he noted how Mammon's hand was draped over the back of the couch, his fingertips ghosting over the tops of your shoulders. A fond smirk remained glued on his face as he watched you talk passionately, and didn't even make an attempt to interrupt you as he would with most people.

Most damning, however, was the fact that the blush never quite left his face.

Lucifer pressed his lips into a thin line.

Mammon quite clearly had romantic interests in you, and that just wouldn't do.

It wasn't that Lucifer didn't trust you to know what's best for yourself. No. He knew that you were exceedingly clever and did, in fact, trust you to make your own choices. It was precisely why he hadn't done anything about Asmodeus's hollow flirtations, or Satan's teasing, or Belphegor's sleepovers. He knew that if you were truly bothered by it, you were more than capable of getting them to leave you alone.

He didn't, however, trust his brothers with you.

With the new pathway of thinking that Mammon's actions had opened that day, Lucifer had noticed that Mammon was not alone in his not-so-innocent intentions with you.

In fact, it appeared that you had captured the hearts of each of his brothers.

It was all too obvious to him now.

Satan's hands lingering on yours as he passed you books. Asmodeus's comments being less shallow and materialistic and more personal and sentimental. Levi's awe-filled eyes, being fixed on you rather than the games the two of you played. Belphegor, cracking open an eye to peer up at you when you weren't looking as he "slept" on your lap. Beel's fidgeting and blush as he asked you to help him work out. Mammon practically melting whenever you ruffled his hair; even as he protested and swatted at your hands.

Lucifer cursed his past self for being so oblivious.

Perhaps the worst part of all of this is that you, the innocent pure soul that you were, were completely oblivious to all of their advances. You would simply giggle or brush it off entirely as just one of the many weird things that his brothers did.

It was unacceptable.

Lucifer, although he seldom admitted it, loved his brothers. He truly did. But he also knew how reckless, moronic, and just overall dangerous they could all be. You deserved better than that. It was for this reason that Lucifer had made it his personal mission to put an end to these revolting advances.

-

Asmodeus smiled as he practically skipped over to where you were reading in the living room, "Hey MC," he draped his arms over your shoulder from behind and nestled his chin on top of your head. "What are you doing today?"

You chuckled and moved your head to gaze up at the bubbly demon. "Good morning, Asmo. I'm not doing much. Just relaxing, I guess. Why?"

Asmo could feel his smile widen at the information. He had been trying to get you all to himself all week, but there was always someone else around or something else that you had to do. Now was his chance!

He hummed as he snaked around the chair to face you. "Then that means you're free to spend the day shopping with your truly!" He shot off a cheeky wink to end it all off.

Asmo felt his heart flutter as your eyes glittered in excitement at his words. "I'd love to Asmo! Just let me gather a few things and we'll-"

"Ah! MC. Are you heading out for the day?"

All the light and warmth that Asmodeus had been feeling instantly plummeted as Lucifer entered the room. His brother was obviously trying to play it off as though he hadn't orchestrated this, not even looking at the two of them as he thumbed through a few papers in his hands, but Asmodeus knew better.

You, however, were none the wiser.

You practically lit up as Lucifer walked into the room. "Yeah! Asmodeus invited me to go shopping with him. We're probably going to be gone for the better part of the day," Asmodeus's bad mood caused by his brother's presence softened as you looked back at him.

Asmo plastered on a smile and wrapped an arm around your shoulder while glared sharply at Lucifer. He hoped that maybe this time he'd actually take the hint and leave everything alone. "Was there something you needed, big brother? Or are you just here to grace us with your presence?"

Asmodeus regretted his words, as the moment he saw them, Lucifer smiled sharply, like a cat who'd just captured its prey. "Well, since you asked, Asmodeus, I was hoping the two of you could pick up a few things for me," Lucifer began to list off rare item after rare item. Asmo could nothing but watch as the dread in his stomach grew heavier and heavier.

You chuckled nervously as Lucifer reached what had to be the twentieth item. "That's quite a bit, Lucifer. I don't think I'd be able to remember it all, and even if I did, I don't know where to begin looking for half of the things you listed," your face scrunched up adorably in thought before you snapped and looked up at the two demons. "I know! Why doesn't Lucifer come with us! That way he'll be able to get his things, and we all can spend time together. Sounds nice, right?"

And there it was.

Asmodeus did everything he could to keep the disappointment off his face, as Lucifer patted your shoulder. "That sounds like an excellent idea, MC," Asmo bit back a growl as Lucifer pulled you out of his arms and lead you towards your room. He glanced back at Asmo with a smug, prideful, look on his face. "We'll go get ready. Thank you for arranging this day out, Asmodeus."

Asmodeus could do nothing but pout as Lucifer walked away with you.

-

Satan had never felt so... tender-hearted before.

He watched you affectionately as you rambled on about your day while effortlessly helping him make supper.

There was something so wholesome and domestic about the entire situation that reminded him of the few romance novels he had read. Initially, when he read those books, he thought the poetic descriptions of the person's heart skipping and the tingling warmth filling their body was a gross exaggeration, but now he knew, and he never wanted that feeling to go away.

He moved by your side and stirred one of the pots on the stove while you diced tomatoes. As he listened to you speak about an enchantment you were trying to get the hang of with Solomon, he suddenly remembered one of the more cliche moments from the books he read.

Glancing at the sauce, Satan carefully scooped up a little bit into a spoon and gently blew on it to cool it down. He turned to you and held the spoon out towards you. "I'm not sure if I got the spices balanced outright. Would you mind-"

Before he could speak any more, a head. that most certainly did not belong to you, swooped down and ate the sauce off the spoon. You and Satan blinked as Lucifer, who had somehow appeared behind you, pulled away from the spoon with a thoughtful expression. "The sauce is good. I'd say it's probably done now," Lucifer stated calmly as his thumb wiped at the corners of his mouth. Satan's grip tightened on the spoon's handle as he snarled at his brother.

You looked awkwardly between the two as Lucifer draped his arm onto your shoulder. "Lucifer? What are you doing here?"

Lucifer's expression softened as he looked down at you, "I just wanted to check in on you," Satan's eye twitched at the excuse. Lucifer tilted his head before he continued. "Also, I saw Mammon sneaking into your room, muttering something about your jewellery box and wanted to give you a heads up."

Your eyes widened as your head snapped in the direction of your room. "What?! Why didn't you start with that?!" Lucifer's smile widened as you made your way towards the kitchen exit. You glanced back at Satan with sympathetic eyes, "Sorry, Satan. I'll promise I'll help you make dinner next time!" Before Satan even had the chance to respond, you had taken off down the hall, yelling his older brother's name.

With you gone, Satan turned to Lucifer with full, unrestrained fury. "What the fuck was that for?" he spat as he stepped into Lucifer's space.

The elder brother merely rolled his eyes and stepped around Satan as though he was nothing more than a hissing kitten. "I could be asking you the same thing. You were getting awfully close there."

Satan's face grew red, though it was hard to distinguish whether the colour was from anger or embarrassment. "That's none of your business!"

Apparently, Lucifer didn't deem a response necessary, as he simply dismissed his brother with a cocky wave of his hand and strutted out of the room in the same direction that you had left.

-

Beelzebub was taking a chance and stepping outside of his comfort zone.

Ever since discovering a small, weak flower in the shadows of the Hall of Lamentation and nursing it back to health, Beel had taken up gardening as a hobby.

None of his brothers knew about it, to his knowledge, and that was okay. If anything, the soft-spoken demon preferred it that way.

But when he noticed that it was particularly nice outside and that you were roaming around with little to do, he decided to let you in on his little secret.

Beel stole a glimpse over his shoulder at you. You were hunched over, humming to yourself as you worked away, your hands knuckle deep in the rich soil with smudges of dirt smeared across your forehead. The gentle dim light of the Devildom sky bounced off your skin and blanketed you in its glow, only adding the beauty you projected.

The sight alone stole his breath and momentarily made him forget about his hunger.

He opened his mouth to speak to you, but was cut off by the sound of heavy footfalls thundering towards you and a loud dangerous growl.

Beel's eyes widened as he notice Cerberus turn the corner, heading straight towards the two of you in a dead sprint.

Without thinking, Beel quickly tackled you to the side, just as the three-headed hell hound rushed past you, demolishing the garden in his wake.

You did a double-take between Beel, Cerberus and the garden as you scrambled to your feet. "Cerberus? How in Diavolo's name did he get loose?" you anxiously ran a hand through your hair began to head in the direction he took off in. "Lucifer taught me a few tricks for catching him. I'm going to go get him! I'm so so sorry about all of this Beel! I'll make it up to you, I promise!"

Without another word you took off after the beast, shouting it's name.

Beel frowned and looked at what remained of his garden. He felt his heart sink a little at seeing all of his hard work destroyed. With a heavy sigh, he slowly made his way towards Cerberus's den to see just how bad the damage was.

Only, when he arrived, the pen's door didn't even have a scratch on it; almost as though someone had let the dog out.

-

Leviathan paced around his room as he muttering to himself as tightly clenched to tickets.

"Alright, Levi. It's not a big deal," he whispered reassuringly. "You just have to go out there, hand them the tickets, and ask them to come with. You already checked their calendar when you were in their room last time, and there are no mentions of any upcoming events on their Devilgram, so they won't be busy. O-Of course, they could always reject you for being a stupid shut-in and a gross o-otaku, b-b-but they're your Henry! Right? They have to agree! Okay!" Levi took a deep breath of courage and quickly flung open his door.

He charged to the living room where he knew you would be lounging with Lucifer.

Upon seeing him, your expression lit up and you graced Leviathan with one of your dazzling smiles. The otaku swore that he could hear his heart go "doki-doki". He stumbled to a stop as his face blushed, and quickly hid the tickets behind his back. "H-Hi MC."

"Hey, Levi-chan!" Oh Diavolo, he loved it when you called him that. "What's up? You look like a man on a mission."

Levi briefly noted Lucifer side-eyeing the two of you as he began to stutter out an answer. "W-Well you see, uh... I-I just um...There's this th-thing that..." He let out a small noise of frustration at his own incompetence.

But you never laughed, or sighed, or groaned, like any of his brothers would have. No. You merely sat there and waited patiently for him to find his words with a gentle smile on your face.

Another deep breath and Levi composed himself. "Did you want to go to an idol concert with me this weekend?" Levi couldn't even bring himself to look you in the eyes as he asked the question. "O-Obviously you don't have to, b-b-but you seemed to like their music when I played it the other day, a-a-and you aren't busy so I thought-"

"Actually," Levi's mouth snapped shut as Lucifer spoke up, "MC and I have plans with Diavolo this weekend."

Levi's head whipped over to look at you and noted the slightly confused expression on your face. "I thought that was next weekend?"

Amber eyes narrowed at the words, as Levi slowly turned to glare at Lucifer. It was all to clear to the Otaku what was happening here.

Lucifer shrugged, not even phased by the venomous stare of his brother, and pulled out his D.D.D. "Barbatos messaged me saying that Diavolo had an important meeting pop up next week and asked if we could move our little get-together to this weekend instead."

You huffed and crossed your arms. "I know he's the prince and can't help it, but making last-minute changes like that is just rude."

Lucifer chuckled at your annoyance and ruffled your hair. "I know, but it's nothing either of us can help. I'll just confirm that we're good with the change and-"

"No." Lucifer and Levi both looked at you in shock. Levi dared to let his heart flutter with hope at the determined look on your face. "I can make plans with Diavolo any time. This concert is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and it clearly means a lot to Levi. Tell him that I'll have to take a rain check. I'm going to be spending the weekend with Levi-chan."

Levi instantly let out a cheer of victory as he stepped forward spun you in the air. "Thank you, MC!!! Oh we're going to have so much fun! I swear you won't regret this!"

You giggled as you were set back down onto your feet. "Thank you for inviting me! This is going to be amazing!"

You and Levi began rambling about all the things you wanted to do at the concert and what you'd need to prepare in advance for the ultimate experience.

Levi couldn't believe it! He was going to spend an entire weekend getting to show you the things that he loved! It'd be just the two of you and it'd be perfect.

"I have an idea," Levi felt himself tense as Lucifer spoke up once more. "Why don't we all go together? That way you can spend time with Diavolo, while also getting to attend the concert?"

Levi's heart sunk as you squealed at the idea, jumping excitedly around a smiling Lucifer.

So much for his perfect, romantic, weekend.

-

Mammon took a deep breath as he stared at your bedroom door.

This was it. He was finally going to tell you how he felt.

He had it all planned out. He was going to go in there, and gift you the necklace he had noticed you looking at the last time the two of you went downtown. Then, he'd explain how through the past months of living with you and being your protector, that he found himself becoming enraptured by every single little thing that you do. He'd explain how he knows that he's clingy and greedy when it comes to spending time with you, but that's because there's nothing he treasures more than being by your side. And then, he'd say that he loves you, and hope that you say the same in return.

Fucking romantic right? Mammon had this in the bag.

He confidently lifted his chin as he knocked on your door before walking in. "Hey MC! I know it's late, but do ya gotta-" he trailed off at the sight before him.

Both you and Lucifer were in fluffy, white robes on your bed. Lucifer had a headband in his hair, brushing his bangs away from his clay mask-covered face. You were beside him, also sporting a mask, your tongue peeking out of the corner of your mouth as you carefully painted his nails.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow at his brother, obviously annoyed at being disturbed, while you smiled over at Mammon. "Hey, Mams! Just a sec," you smoothly finished applying a coat of red polish to Lucifer's pinky finger before recapping the bottle and turning to the white-haired demon. "What's up?"

Mammon felt his face heat up, as he quickly hid the small box in his hands behind his back. "I- Uh- Nothin'! Just wanted to talk with ya. Can ya come with me for a few minutes?"

Lucifer sighed as he examined his freshly painted nails. "Might I remind you that you're the one disturbing us, Mammon? If you've got something to say," Mammon gulped as knowing, irked, obsidian eyes bore into his, "spit it out."

You smacked Lucifer's arm. "Hey! Be nice," you offered Mammon a sympathetic smile as you turned back to him. "Sorry, Mammon. You were saying?"

Mammon swallowed down the lump in his throat as humiliation flooded his veins. He awkwardly looked away and waved off your concern. "Nah. It was nothin' important," he subtly slid the necklace box into his back pocket, "I-I'll talk with ya tomorrow or somethin'. It's nothin' ya need to worry about."

You blinked owlishly at Mammon. He could practically see the gears churning inside your head; you obviously thought something was wrong. "Are you sure? If it matters to you, Mammon, that means it's important. I can spare a few minutes if it's really bothering you."

You began to stand up, but as you did, Lucifer caught your wrist."MC, he already said you didn't need to worry about it. If it was that important, he would've just told us. I'm sure everything is fine," Mammon tensed as Lucifer shifted his cold gaze onto him, "right?"

Mammon quickly nodded as he stumbled back towards the door. "Yeah! Yes! Everything is perfectly fine! I-I'll just get goin' and leave to continue whatever this is. Bye!" He scurried out of the room, slamming the door behind him, before slumping against it.

He could faintly hear the sounds of you scolding Lucifer, and felt himself slump in defeat.

He'd just have to try again another day.

-

Belphegor fluffed the blankets and pillows that he had set up in the backyard.

It was perfect. He had actually put in work to make sure it was.

A sea of blankets would protect the two of you from the chilly, Devildom, night air, while his finest pillows would make sure you were comfortable. He had brought out a thermos filled with tea and some snacks to make the evening extra cozy.

It was everything the two of you would need to take in the meteor shower tonight.

A click sounded behind him. Belphie perked and quickly turned to greet with you a smile.

Only, instead of you, a rather smug-looking Lucifer stood in the doorway.

Belphie growled and went back to arranging pillows. "What do you want?"

Lucifer shrugged and began to set up a telescope. Belphie gritted his teeth at the sight of it. "I'm just here to take in the meteor shower like you are. That's all. It is quite a beautiful sight after all, and it also happens to be very enlightening."

Belphegor sneered at his older brother as he turned away from him. "Well do it somewhere else! I'm watching the shower here with MC, not you. So go away!"

Lucifer tilted his head in mock confusion as he held up his phone. "Oh dear, but I've already invited the others to join us out here."

Belphie's head snapped up at Lucifer's words. "You what?!"

As though summoned, the rest of his brothers toppled into the backyard.

"I was unaware there was a meteor shower tonight," Satan claimed as he laid down his own blanket near Belphie's perfectly structured nest. "To think I almost missed out on it."

"Eh, I don't care about any stupid stars or anythin'," Belphie groaned in annoyance as Mammon plopped himself down beside him. "But if anythin' falls near us, then those meteor pieces have gotta be worth a fortune!"

Levi scoffed and rolled his eyes as he leaned against the house, game counsel still in hand. "Nothing's actually falling, dumb ass. They're just space rocks passing by."

Asmodeus giggled while he snuggled himself up on Belphie's other side. Belphie wrinkled up his nose and tried to lean away from the physical affection. "Then why are you out here, Levi, if they're just space rocks? Can't you admit that they're beautiful, like me, and you wanted to experience something real for once?"

Levi let out a squawk of embarrassment. "There isn't anything that 'reality can offer me that anime can't! I've seen meteor showers at least ten times all with amazing shots and angles that you could never get in real life!"

Asmodeus merely shook his head in response. "Whatever you say, Levi," he reached over to the picnic basket that Belphie for you and him had packed and held it over his head. "Beel! Snacks!"

Belphegor gaped at his twin as the ginger giant grabbed the basket and sat down behind them. "Beel?! You too?"

Beel looked down guiltily and looked through the food. "I'm sorry, Belphie. But Lucifer said there'd be snacks and that everyone else was going to be there, and I thought it'd be nice to have a family event."

Belphie groaned and held his head in his hands. "You knew I was planning this for just me and MC though."

Beel frowned and held out a cookie to his twin. "Sorry."

Before Belphie could argue anymore or even get the chance to kick everyone out, the door opened once more.

"Oh," everyone looked over to see you standing there in your pyjamas. Belphie's heart clenched as your confused eyes found his. "I didn't know this was a group gathering! I would've brought down some pillows for everyone or some snacks if I had known!" you smiled brightly at the group as you walked towards them.

"No need. Belphie went ahead and provided enough for everyone already," Lucifer claimed and patted the ground next him. "You can sit with me, MC. There's plenty of space over here."

Belphie cursed under his breath as you accepted Lucifer's offer and huffed as the meteor shower began.

Lucifer smirked as he took in his brother's defeat with glee, and you babbled away none-the-wiser by his side.

His brothers could try to woo you and corrupt you all they wanted, but Lucifer wasn't going anywhere. For every attempt they'd make, he'd be there to stop it.

You had deemed Lucifer your big brother, after all, and as such, he'd make sure that you were always safe from his brothers' infernal influences.

***The ending is meh, but whatever! I hope you guys enjoyed this fic! It was both fun and hassle to write, but I love it nonetheless! Thanks for your amazing support and love! Sorry for the lack of fics lately. Love you all!***

Taglist @all-oxidized-to-green @candymeowz, @thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @lovelythoma @mothervictoire @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @obeys-world @poly-bi-mf @armycandy10 @burrixino @arkarul @pumpkins-mainside-blog

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me fan fic #obey me fic #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me demon brothers #soft lucifer #big bro lucifer #gn mc #gender neutral main character #fan fic #my writing

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch)  He Goes Clothes Shopping With You

   Hunter: Doesn't mind going, though he isn't entirely sure at first why you'd want him going along. When you say you want his opinion, and being a part of the Bad Batch doesn't mean you get to go often, he understands and is on board. He spends the beginning of the trip following and just watching you browse since you seemed to know what you were doing, giving his opinion only when asked. After he gets a feel for the kind of stuff you like, he'd start to branch out a bit and go find stuff to show you. Sometimes he's a little clueless about what matches or goes with what, but you appreciate the effort he puts into it, and he takes mental notes if you tell him a certain fabric won't work or you're not fond of a certain color. The trip is overall pleasant, and Hunter tells you he wouldn't mind going again.

   Wrecker: Would be excited because it was a new experience. No one ever asked for his opinion on clothes before. He'd be pretty into it right from the start, offering up lots of suggestions and going "_________! What about this?" a lot. At first he may not quite get your taste, but after he gets a feel for what you prefer, he'd actually be the one to bring you some great finds. Wrecker would be enthusiastic and make loud compliments, making the other shoppers giggle at how cute the two of you were. He may or may not need reminders about the budget because he goes overboard with suggestions.  At the end of the trip, he carries all your things like a gentleman and takes the opportunity to show off his strength.  Make no mistake; he’d definitely want a fashion show after the trip to see how everything looked, and definitely wants you to bring him again another time.

   Tech: He’d ask if you actually needed him to go along.  It’s not that he doesn’t want to go.  He wouldn’t mean any offense; he just has a list of other things that need to be done.  You insist that his opinion really matters, and that would make him smile a bit.  “I suppose I could use a break from all this anyway,” he’d say, pushing up his goggles.  He doesn’t hesitate to make his thoughts known, and that is the same during this task.  He’ll stay near to you but break away a bit to find a few things to present to you right.  Tech almost always has reasons behind his choices.  “I think this one would bring out your eyes” or  “That one would complement your figure.”  That being said, even though he has a lot to say, he believes that how you feel about the clothes is most important, and he only offers opinions to be helpful and not pushy.  He lets you know that he wouldn’t mind going along again sometime.

   Echo: He'd act a little gruff at first. Part of him feels like as a man and a soldier he has to act just a tiny bit grumpy about tagging along on a shopping trip (especially in front of the rest of the Bad Batch), but really it doesn't bother him. He'd follow you around, and you can count on him giving an honest opinion, though always in a nice way. He does have pretty good taste as far as what looks good on you. "What about this? This is nice." It would be kind of adorable to see how invested he'd get over the course of the trip.  He also gets excited about finding nice stuff on sale.   He nods his head in silent approval when all the discounts flash across the register screen.  At the end of it, he'd go back to pretending to be a little grumpy, claiming the trip wasn't too horrible and that he'd go with you again.

   Crosshair: It takes some convincing to get him to go at first. To him, standing in the middle of a clothes store would be a blow to his manly pride.  Eventually, he’d realize that plenty of males do it, and he'd go. He'd follow you around closely at first, hovering but not super invested. Everything you asked him about, he'd shrug or seem indifferent, though on the inside it's only because he feels he doesn't know the first thing about clothes. Instead, he'd be watching the entrances and keeping a lookout for danger as you shopped. At some point, his attention would wander from his surroundings to you holding up an outfit in front of the mirror, and he'd quietly comment, "that would look nice on you." From there he'd give his opinion more often and openly, especially when it came to something he particularly liked.  After the experience, he would be more comfortable and invested in the shopping trips to come.

#the bad batch #bad batch x reade #bad batch wrecker #bad batch crosshair #bad batch hunter #bad batch echo #bad batch tech #tech x reader #wrecker x reader #crosshair x reader #hunter x reader #echo x reader #bad batch x reader #bad batch reader insert #hunter reader insert #crosshair reader insert #echo reader insert #tech reader insert #wrecker reader insert #bad batch wrecker x reader #bad batch crosshair x reader #bad batch hunter x reader #bad batch echo x reader #bad batch tech x reader #bad batch preferences #the bad batch preference #the bad batch x reader

[luimagines]

He Accidentally Hurt You pt.2

Masterlist

Set platonically and within the group Part 1

Hyrule

Your blood was pounding as your feet carried you across the battle field.

Your hearing was rendered useless by the cause, you only thoughts were on Hyrule and getting to him before the hoard of monsters did. He had somehow gotten separated from the group in the struggle and was left to fend for himself.

You made contact.

The sword in your hand followed through your practiced movements, slicing all and any between you and your target.

You could hear him in the distance, you were close, you just had to get- just a little-

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and the air changed. The split second static was your only warning before lightning struck.

Monsters fell all around you but you failed to pay attention to that. Your attention was instead on the blinding, scalding twist in your arm that held your trusted blade. You couldn’t even find it in you to let go of the weapon, your muscles incapable to receiving orders.

The pain traveled through your arm and across your chest until it encompassed your whole being.

Screams tore through your throat without your knowledge and when the attack subsided, your whole body went rag doll and your vision went black.

“Please. Please. Please.” A voice whispered through the darkness. It was soft. Pleading. A blessed chill seemed deep into your bones and you found it within yourself to open your eyes.

Hyrule was crouched above you, tears in his eyes with shallow cuts across his tunic and exposed skin. Not a lot of blood though, your brain supplies. You take a relieved breath.

“Hey.” You croaked out in greeting. “Glad to see you’re ok. I was worried.”

“I didn’t know you were there.” He blurts as if he didn’t hear you. Maybe he didn’t. “I thought it was only monsters nearby. I don’t think I have enough magic to heal you completely. This is all my fault.”

“Fault?” You attempted to sit up. You succeed. Mostly.

A grunt leaves your mouth at the stiffness in your joints and you force yourself to power though to reach into your inventory.

A sniffle leaves your Traveler when you push his hands away when you find your target. The red liquid glints in the dying sunlight and you hand it out to him. “Think you can open it?”

He nods and pry's it open before you can even think about getting into a better sitting position.

You don’t think twice about taking the potion when he hands it back.

“Save your magic.” You say. “I’ll be fine.”

And you know you’re right....It’ll take a little more than that to convince the rest of the group when you get back though. Hyrule plans to smother you until not a single blemish is left. The others? Well... They’ll keep an eye on you.

Twilight

“Ten rupees says you can’t make that throw.” You hear Warriors say.

“Double it and I’ll gladly prove you wrong.” Twilight responds.

The book in your lap calls for attention more than whatever those two are doing for the sake of friendly competition. You don’t look up, trying to keep your eyes on the page but you can’t help the growing curiosity in the back of your head.

“What are we using to aim with?”

“That?”

“Sure.”

You roll your eyes and keep your head down.

“I’ll be twenty rupees richer and it’ll shut your mouth. Just watch.” Twilight grumbles.

There’s a tap and a growl before something comes at your head full throttle. It’s dense but not enough to keep it from exploding all into your hair and it knocks you over slightly.

You closed your book to protect it from the falling matter and reach at the spot. By your feet laying the offending object.

An apple.

They threw an apple at your head. Correction. Twilight threw an apple at your head.

The thoughts in your head spin a bit. Your whole head is throbbing but you doubt there’s any blood. You look up just in time to see Warrior and Twilight running at you as fast as they can. Twilight reaches you first and kneels next to you. “By Ordana, are you ok?”

His hands hover over you, trying to take in the damage without actually touching you.

“Who are you?” You blurt out, very quickly realizing that it was the wrong thing to say.

His face drops and Warrior wears a similar expression.

“Kidding.” A pained grin covers your face. “Take me to Hyrule please.”

“I’m so sorry.” Twilight reaches for you and you comply. Once you’re on your feet he speaks again. “Warrior messed up my shot and it hit you by accident.”

“That’s a weird way to say you lost a bet.”

You kick Warrior as payback.

Sky

“So...” You sit next to Sky during the break. “What are you planning to make this time?”

The boy next to you already had his whittling knife out and a decent sized chunk of wood in his lap. He picked it up and spun it a few times, staring into it as if he could already see the form inside it. It was just his job to take it out.

“I don’t know yet.” He admits. “Maybe it’ll come to me.”

You nod and let him work in relative silence, the faint but consistent sounds of Sky working next to you create a blissful and serene atmosphere.

The others are off doing their own thing, each keeping to themselves for the most part.

It’s nice.

“Actually, can you help me with this real quick?”

Your attention is back on Sky. He’s trying to get his knife out of the wood block, the outline of the shape he’s making already starting to form.

You don’t recognize it.

Sky picks up the knife and the whole block follows. “It got stuck.”

“How?” You raise an eyebrow and try to keep the smile off of your face.

Your response is only a shrug and the wood being thrust in your direction.

You grab it and instinctively tighten your grip on it when you feel Sky pull.

You both use your strengths to your advantage and pull in different directions. You feel the knife begin to slip out and adjust your grip. Within seconds the blade is free and you feel it cross the tip of your finger.

Instantly, the wood is dropped and you cradle your hand close to you, putting pressure on the injured digit.

“Ok, got it, thank- What happened?” Sky scoots closer to you and pulls your hands out.

A thin red line follows the length of your finger and it only seems to grow as the moments pass. It doesn’t feel deep but it certainly won’t let you flex your finger for a while.

A quite hiss leaves Sky’s lips. “Well that could’ve gone better. Sorry about that.”

“It could’ve gone worse too.” You press a little on the injury, trying to will the pain away.

It doesn’t work, but hey, you try.

“Hold on. I think I have some bandages in my pack.” Sky gets up and jogs to where most of the others are sitting. He picks up his bag and looks inside for a minute or two before jogging back to you.

A small role of bandages sits in his hand and when he reach for your hand, you don’t hesitate to give it to him.

As he’s working on your finger, you feel mild irritation bubble up in your throat. “This better not scar.”

“Why’s that?” Sky replies.

“It’ll be the lamest story.”

He laughs and finishes his work.

Time

Sometimes it surprised you how short everyone in the group was. You weren’t sure if it was a Link thing or one of the biggest coincidences of the universe because it certainly wasn’t just because they were Hylian (but that probably didn’t help).

That being said, and what you could gather from The Captain, it boggled your mind further that Time was the biggest of everyone. Warrior made it seem like he’d stay small forever, implying that Time was smaller still when he first defeated Gannon.

That didn’t seem very fair.

For him and you....well everyone, only Twilight and Warrior were the ones exempt from having to look up at the old man. But you didn’t like the idea of someone so small fighting such a beast, so Time is included in your sympathy list.

Despite his size, he seemed to move as silent as a mouse. Only Wild would be quieter than him.

After some time of traveling with them all, you realized he was just as much as a gremlin as the rest.

He was not above pranking the living daylights out of poor unsuspecting teenagers.

And the thing is, no one could catch him. Somehow he managed to get them to in the blame on each other but you knew better. You swore it had to be him. There was no way. There was no way he could count as a Link and not get into this kind of stuff.

But no one believed you.

It definitely wasn’t fair.

With the stage set, it’s safe to say now that you were calmly, peacefully and quietly minding your own business. You weren’t bothering anyone.

You were writing in your journal under a tree with some low branches. Nothing too bad but in terms of shade and angle, you found it to be the perfect resting place.

You took a deep breath in and let it out.

Yes, it was nice.

“BOO!”

You jumped as high as your reflexes you take you and spun around, but you had forgotten where you were in the moment.

With a solid thunk, your head hit the branch above you and sat back down, with a curse.

While there was laughter in the your reaction, it was cut off abruptly at the first sign of pain. “Oh jeeze, I’m sorry. How bad does it hurt?”

A whimper escaped your mouth before you could stop it and you closed your journal, choosing to furiously rub your hands against the now tender spot on the top of your head. “Ow Time. Why did you do that?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d move like that.” He moved your hands away and inspected the area for himself. “No bleeding. Doesn’t look like it’ll need a potion...”

“I blame you.” You grumbled. “This is your fault.”

“I can accept that.” He nodded and stepped back. “There’s not much we can do about it in terms of healing, but perhaps Hyrule would be willing to lend a hand.”

“No way. He’d ask how it happened and I’m not going to lie to him.” You pouted. “No one will believe me if I told them the truth.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s you!” You glared at him.

A tiny giggle escaped from the so called Old Man of the group, Mr. Stick in the Mud. Senor Buzzkill. “And why would that make a difference?”

“I cannot believe you... Actually yes I can, you were doing this on purpose the whole time.”

He laughed more fully this time and didn’t seem to let up.

With a pout, you picked up your book and marched away.

One day you’ll get back at him. You just had to figure out how and when.

Four

“So, how do we play this game again?” You picked up the ball one of your companions took out. It was almost the size of your head and had crisscrossing lines. It was white and weighed less than you originally thought.

It was a relatively slow day and no one felt in the mood to dampen it by looking for trouble.

While Twilight and Warrior set up the net that was supposed to go with it, the rest were waiting and going over the rules.

“Just hit the ball over the net. You can’t the ball twice in a row, someone else has to hit it and if it touches the ground you lose the point.”

“Seems simple enough.” Wild takes the ball from you and tosses it a few times.

It takes a while for all the appropriate moves to be demonstrated but you all play the game with ease.

You were having a good time with your friends. Everyone was actually getting along for a change. With a smile on your face, you waited for the moment that would inevitably change.

You swore you could almost pin point when it happened.

With Four right across from you, his sudden change in stance gave away the glint in his eyes.

The ball came to him and he jumped up, higher than you thought he could and spiked.

Next thing you knew, you were on the ground, stunned and slightly disoriented and your face was hurting.

Four ran to your side as the game was halted. “That... was not what I was intending.”

“You don’t say... Can I step out for a minute?” You asked, trying to get your feet. Four helped you get away from the battle field- I mean, the game area and helped you sit back down against a nearby tree.

“Sorry about that.” He smiled apologetically. “Anything I can do to help?”

You looked up at him hopefully. “Lose the game?”

“Not a chance.”

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader

[marky4l]

Step by Step / Mark Lee

step by step / mkl

pairing: Mark Lee x Reader

From an innocent childhood friendship to a juvenile high school rivalry to a forced pairing for a Psychology paper, it seems you and Mark just can’t avoid each other. But something’s a little different now.

genre: fluff, angst (a little bit), suggestive themes, childhood friends (barely mentioned!) to enemies to lovers, college!au

notes: lia yeonjun chan hyuck jeno all make tiny appearances 

word count: 17.2k 

hi!!! this is my first work nd I’m really excited to put this out I’d looove if you could give it a read :^) hound me on my inbox if u wanna i take anything

“Remember when we were best friends in fifth grade?”

His voice is a little quiet, and there’s a very obvious undertone of boredom, but you hum softly anyway, nodding, as if to question why you would ever forget. Fifth grade was a suburban brew of Star Wars marathons, figuring out the world, and Harry Potter merchandise littering your house. Fifth grade was lemonade and oatmeal, knitted sweaters, and sneaking into your mom’s vanity to swipe her makeup. And fifth grade was Mark—bright eyed, geeky Mark, with his Death Star replica and weird electronica music. 

Mark, who had an affinity with Troy from High School Musical and Spiderman, and wanted to be just like them. Mark, who would show up grinning to your front door everyday, pie dish in his nimble grip. He was the one who had opened a lemonade stand at the corner of your block so he could buy you the Gryffindor scarf you’d been nagging your mom about the entire holiday season. He was the one who learned the chords to your favorite Jonas Brothers song and sang it to you each time you requested it.

“Yes, I do,” you answer instead, clearing your throat. 

You attempt to push down all the memories that just ran through your head and adjust the grip you have on your pen. “Well,” Mark continues, “that was ages ago. Beats me why it ever happened.” 

The timidity is replaced with a tidal wave of teasing, and the annoyance that had disappeared is beginning to crawl all over you. Again. You roll your eyes and pull up the slides your professor had assigned. “Beats me why we even ended up in the same university, let alone the same class,” you jab, “if you thought I forgot about how you outright failed our Spanish classes in high school, I didn’t.”

Your friendship with Mark had reached its unfortunate demise to the hands of middle school, where you had branched out with your interests and began to stick to societal (as societal as school can get) norms. He had joined the geeky, cool kids; you hadn’t joined a specific social circle, but you had a best friend, Lia, and you were generally good with everybody. 

Somehow, despite you both being in good graces with everyone, you had a deep-seated dislike for one another that stemmed from an intense academic rivalry. Specifically, the competition to become school council president. That had ended now, seeing as though you were both in college, but the abrasiveness of your banter had never worn off.

“Oh, because you were so good at Physics?” he says, voice even. His brow is raised. “We all have our strong suits, you know. You’re one to talk.” You decide to pay him no mind, instead jotting down the criteria for your final project in Psychology 1—something about the stages of grief. You’re supposed to relate it to a different human process and show how they fit with one another. 

It’s absolute fucking bullshit, and the fact that Mark Lee became your partner among a hundred students is beyond you. Absolutely beyond you. 

He nears your screen, reading the content of your project, eyes squinted—you’d noticed his lack of decent eyesight years ago, but it seemingly hadn’t improved. “Relate the stages of grief…hold up, what? That’s difficult as hell. What are we supposed to do, lose a loved one?” You roll your eyes, turning to him. “No, Mark. The point is to find another process that happens gradually and relate it to this—denial, bargaining, anger. Get it?”

He stares back at you. “No.”

You groan audibly, turning back to your notebook. “This is impossible. Can we just switch partners so I won’t have to deal with you?” He smirks, kicking his feet up on the library table. Absently, you note how nice his sneakers look. Reclining onto the seat, he shuts his eyes as if to contemplate. 

“I heard through the birdvine our professor’s the type to pair up people she thinks would look good together for shits and giggles. Girls and boys, boys and boys, you name it. Johnny”—he’s referring to a guy who’s a year above yours, studying Biology—“tells me over five couples have been born out of this class. Isn’t that nice?” You scoff, scrolling mindlessly through the slides to keep yourself distracted. 

“It really is. A shame we won’t be adding to that list, because I can’t fucking stand you.” He laughs loudly, the vibration of it remaining in the deadly silent air. “I can stand fucking you, though,” he says, and then, before you can even blush, “All jokes. Don’t get your hopes up, ‘kay?” He’s quick to get up, just as flustered as you are at the uncharacteristic phrase that just left his mouth. He collects his jacket and jogs out of the library with a small, half-assed bye under his breath.

—

Lia’s eyes bore into yours. “He actually said that? I’m telling you, he’s some weird kinky guy under that whole cool geek persona. High school Mark would never have. Oh my god. He’s a furry—he’s a furry!” She flops back onto your bed, laughing. You poke at her waist in protest. 

“It’s because he’s surrounded by too many weird classy fuckboys. You know, those that think that they’re all that because they haven’t roofied a girl.” You’re half-joking, and you’re really only referring to maybe two guys you’ve happened to see Mark with. As if to read your mind, Lia continues. “Hey, I heard some of them are okay. They’re not, like…those ‘nice guys’, if you get me.”

“I do,” you quip. “But I guess I’m just trying to find a way to justify the whole 360 in Mark. I mean, in high school, he was still nerdy—well, you know. Shy. But jump to sophomore year of uni and he’s suddenly some…” You rack your head for a proper term. “Sex god?” your friend asks, holding in a laugh. “Oh, eat shit,” you fire back, “really, eat shit. And while you’re at it, feed me some, too, because I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to turn in at the end of the term. Like, Jes—”

There’s a faint knock at the door, and then. “Lia? It’s—uh, it’s me, Daniel? Er, Daniel Choi.” Your wide eyes can’t possibly match Lia’s as she tugs on a decent-looking pullover and puts it on. As she swings the door open, you manage to sufficiently hide yourself under your duvet and attempt to hear their conversation. 

“You know, it’s okay if you leave out the whole…saying your full name at the door part. Trust me…I know you,” she jokes, and you hear him laugh before you detect the crinkling of a plastic bag. “Chinese. Uh, I bought some extra for your best friend, because I’m not gonna pretend I don’t see the sentient blob on the bed.”

You pull the blanket off and smile sheepishly. “Hey, Daniel,” you say, “thanks for the food. I owe you an empty room next time, I swear by it. It’ll be easy, since I’m gonna be”—you heave yourself off the bed and onto the floor, where they’re both sitting—“holed up at the library for the next few weeks.” 

Lia nods, chewing her chow mein, and then when she’s done, she explains to Daniel your whole huge Psychology end-of-term paper about stages and grief and whatever, oh also she’s partnered with Mark Lee, this guy that we both know from high school, and she dislikes his guts, oh you know him? 

“Wait. You know him?” You repeat, and Daniel nods, ruffling his black mullet. “His room’s, like, three away from mine. He’s studying Theoretical Physics, right? Yeah, he’s always in his room doing school shit, but every weekend he’s out with the upperclassmen. He’s probably out now, ‘cause it’s Friday. How he even charmed them, though, is a mystery.”

Mid-dumpling, you roll your eyes. “Y’know, the hardest part is being partnered with him. But also, even finding what kind of gradual process to relate denial and anger too is weirdly hard. It feels like I could find something, but I haven’t gotten it…quite…” you trail off, your eyes landing on Lia and Daniel across you—they’re smiling softly at each other, and you distinguish their fingers interlocking quietly, as if you wouldn’t notice. 

“…yet. Except maybe I have. How would you want to participate in my end-of-term paper?” Their gazes turn to yours, and you nod frantically. “Oh my god, I’m a genius! Seriously! Falling in love! Yes! It’s denial—anger—whatever, whatever! It makes perfect sense. The end is acceptance, too! Oh god, Li, it’s perfect. I will owe you for life if you help me out.”

“Wait, what? You dove straight into it, what—recap, please,” Lia asks, and you compose yourself before explaining giddily. 

“Falling in love. It happens gradually, and we can compare it to the stages of grief. Seeing as you and Daniel are headed right there, we can use you as some test subjects. It’s not required to have respondents or subjects, really, it’s just an extensive paper, but it might help get the grade up. This is gonna be great, and if you ever wanna back out, you can, because it’s not mandatory.” Lia and Daniel meet eyes briefly, and then slowly, nod. “Okay, that’s pretty smart,” Daniel says, “I’m up for it. Are you?” Lia nods, slowly and hesitantly, and you smile widely. “You two just saved my Psych grade. I’ll be at Giselle’s tonight. Just…not on my bed.” You grab your keys and phone and bound out of your room, straight into the elevator at the end of the hall.

The elevator door nearly closes when a Converse-clad foot steps in, and your eyes rake up the figure, eventually landing on his face. 

“Jesus fuck,” you mumble, “you must be kidding me.” 

Mark enters the elevator with a small, teasing smile, hands tucked into his jacket’s pockets. “Hey, dude, what’s up? Was on your floor on my stop down to get some money Lucas owed me,” he says, “this is actually a godsend, because my genius brain found us a project idea. Relate grief to something else gradual? Easy as pie. Falling in lo—” 

You cut him off before he can finish, “Falling in love, right. I thought of it first, earlier,” you say profusely, absently noting the pettiness in your tone. He whistles. “No need to get all possessive over an idea the previous classes have used before, man.” You continue, ignoring him. “Whatever. Lucky for our grades, I went the extra mile to get us some test subjects. Do you know the two Chois? Lia and Daniel?” 

He nods once, “Yeah, their PDA on Instagram is fucking sickening, but I see your technique, and I like that—we get some extra data from their god awful PDA.” You nod once, and he continues. “It’s nearing 11 on a Friday night. Whose party are you headed to?”

“You’re welcome for the test subjects,” you gripe. “Anyway, I was so giddy about coming up with it, I just left them to…well, fornicate. As a compromise for being lab rats. I texted my…” you realize you’re starting to share too much to a guy you typically dislike talking to, and then there’s a silence in the air that’s painfully awkward. 

“You texted your…?” Mark asks. “My friend, but she’ll be home at 1AM, so I’m out to kill time. No parties, just…I dunno.” He nods again, and then the elevator lets out a blissful ding. You step out simultaneously, and then he faces you. “Look, it’s freezing out, you’re in shorts and a puffer coat, and it’s three hours to 1AM, so I doubt you’ll get far.” You scoff at his words despite feeling your legs shake from the breeze outside. “I’ll be fine, dumbass.”

“Just concerned,” he says, in a tone that sounds more blank than annoyed, but he turns and heads toward the door anyway. He swivels back around briefly. “It’s in Johnny’s apartment. Just a couple people, if you get bored freezing.” He jogs outside then, and you inwardly appreciate the small gesture, but again, annoyance returns just as quickly. You linger a bit before heading out yourself, walking briskly to a local Japanese restaurant. You consider this an opportunity to have some me time, some rest after a shitty week in university. Lasting ’til 1AM alone and entertained would not at all be a problem. 

You last one ramen bowl and head to Johnny’s apartment.

—

When Johnny Suh answers the door, he’s clad in a makeshift shower curtain gown of sorts, and is flushed and very buzzed all over. He hikes up the top to cover his chest and laughs profusely. “Did Mark invite you?” Behind him is a sizeable group of just about twenty people, which looks like forty in a cramped communal space. You’d been here before—Johnny likes to invite just about anyone to get stoned and listen to Kid Cudi on Fridays, and you had pushed Lia to accompany you before. 

You distantly spot the kitchenette, the small living room, and then the two bedroom doors opposing each other. “The rule was to show up wearing something not marketed as clothing, but Mark didn’t follow the rules, so. Anyway, you’re off scot-free, too…” he pauses, “…if you take off the puffer coat. We’ve got heating, anyway. Free booze and weed, too.” You figure being in a flimsy tank top isn’t so bad—you’re sure half the people here are already getting laid or trying to, and nobody would really pay attention to you.

You shrug off the coat as Johnny steps aside to let you in, hugging it close to your body and navigating your way to the kitchen. The granite counters are filled with various bottles of booze, and you also note the cigarettes and blunts lining the island. You peruse the brands before settling on a sealed can of decidedly not-so-cheap-looking beer, and crack it open to take a swig. It’s warm and fucking disgusting, but there’s not much glitz in an “anything but clothing” off-campus college party anyway. 

There are several people scattered among the living area, passing around a blunt—another group is playing suck and blow. You make your way over to the cheap couch on the far end of the room, taking a seat on the arm and stretching out your hand to claim the blunt. It’s Jae who passes it to you—Jaehyun Jung, an upperclassman whose infamy (for wearing nothing but toilet paper and running through campus) greatly surpasses him. “Who are you?” he asks, and you holler your name back over the Kanye West song playing in the background. “Mark invited me,” you tack onto the end as compensation.

He nods in understanding, watching you take a drag and pass it back to him. He only hands it back, saying, “It’s nearly done, just finish it,” and getting up to probably get some booze or another blunt. 

You scan the area for a better place to cherish your weed, because you’re definitely not going to do it on the arm of a couch housing three couples making out to the high heavens. You spot an open window and a fire escape just beside the kitchen and walk over, ducking into the cool night air. It’s not quiet, it never is, and you treasure the peace that comes with the noise, closing your eyes and trying to milk the last few drags. All that is flushed down the drain when somebody kicks you out of your reverie and your last two drags are falling down, through the grills of the fire escape. 

“What the fuck?” You look up to meet, of course, Mark’s gaze, teasing and mischievous. 

“That wasn’t fucking funny, asshat. Get away from me.” You get up instantly, ducking back into the house and searching for your coat. It’s (very unfortunately) buried under a couple who have escalated from making out to borderline public indecency.

“Fuck it,” you mumble, swinging the door open and mentally preparing yourself for the cold once you get to the sidewalk, floors down. Mark follows suit, a laugh gracing the atmosphere around the two of you. “You know, I forgot how fun it is to make you pissed off. I did it all the time in eighth grade when I told our teacher you knew the solution to the Physics problems.” You’re fucking pissed. However petty, you’re fucking annoyed that you couldn’t finish the blunt, and you pay no attention to him. 

He badgers on anyway. “Hey—it was a mistake, I wanted to say hi to you.” You scoff, finally turning—“Why? Because we’re friends? We’re not. We’re Psych partners, we came from the same high school, we share a couple mutual friends. But you and I are not friends, not objectively, anyway. Please, Mark. I only just re-acquainted myself with you today, but, like, you’re already so annoying!” You’re at the elevator now, and when the doors slide open, you step inside and let them close at once. You barely catch the unreadable look on his face in your annoyance, and you lean against the wall, shutting your eyes and breathing heavily. 

How you’d even get to Giselle’s, or how you would wait out the remaining half-hour before she got home, was just up to whichever higher power happened to be witnessing you that night.

—

The door of your professor’s office closes with a saddening click. You stare back at her name, embossed on the wood in bold, in defeat, accepting your fate with a heavy heart. Just fifteen minutes prior, you had entered with a whole spiel prepared on how you just had to swap with somebody from your class so you wouldn’t have to work with Mark. This speech had occurred twice now—with your TA, and then once with your professor. This was your second chance, your redemption: so you prepared notes, you prepared convincing words—you had a point. 

But your professor simply shooed you away, muttering how she didn’t have time for you because she was going to be receiving hundreds of papers in a few weeks’ time from a different class and she, quite honestly, couldn’t be bothered. You bite your lip, thinking back to the previous Friday—it was nearing two weeks since your small outburst at Mark. Since then, you’d expected to build a silent rapport of just working, observing Lia and Daniel, and then parting. And that was almost it. You would show up to your so-called “lab rat sessions”, cup of warm caramel latte in hand, and work. 

Except Mark would constantly make noise, jeer, swipe your pen, and do other things that got on your nerves.

“You’re going to have to stop trying sometime,” Lia says, backhugging you. She’d been waiting outside. You let your head loll back onto her shoulder and whine. “Do you know when you’re so frustrated you want to cry? Yeah? That’s exactly how it is, Li. I can’t keep up with this for another two, three months. It’s like he’s not even, like, fuck, like he’s not even trying, y’know? We’re building the foundation of a pages-long paper. This isn’t some finals essay he can bullshit in three hours.” 

You groan as Lia pulls away from you, whirling you around to face her. “It’ll be fine, I swear to you. I’ll help out, anytime you need it. I promise. If I start hating Daniel, I’ll even pretend like I’m in love with him. Head over heels.” You let yourself laugh and pull out your phone as you two begin to walk towards your dorm.

She tsks. “We’re gonna have a thing tonight, right? Like, a lab rat session?”

You nod, squinting over your calendar app. “Yeah, at around 5:30 to 6. It’ll be quick, but Mark and I are gonna have to stay behind to divide the work for the general paper and then start. Hopefully we can get some outlining done by tonight…so don’t wait up,” you sigh. She smiles apologetically, pinching your waist affectionately. 

“Daniel and I will totally help you. He’s a Mark anti now. I told him about the party outburst thing.” You had sent her a slew of texts that night, and like every other story you had told (save for the most private ones), Daniel had caught wind of it. You’re half sure he was capable of blackmailing you at that point. “Good,” you shoot back, “I’m going to need all the anti-Mark force I can get.”

“Why?” You both turn to see Mark standing idly behind you. There’s a beat, and then: “You look like an inane stalker,” you retort, turning to continue walking. Lia follows suit—with the two of you, the vibe of the atmosphere would always come easy. If one was mad, the other would act mad, too. 

“Hey,” Mark repeats, falling into step beside you, “why do you need an anti-Mark force? Tell me.” At this point, your nerves are on fire and your blood is boiling, and you’re beginning to envision beating him up on the quad. “Mark, it’s been great, but we’re going to our dorm, and in case you don’t want to catch a restraining order, I suggest you get off at your floor instead of following us like a creep,” you say sweetly, quickening your steps until he’s far behind you, smiling. Fucking asshole. 

“I’ll see ya this evening, then,” he teases, and you grumble under your breath.

—

It’s 5:45 when Lia and Daniel leave the library—fifteen minutes early. You and Mark leave ten minutes later, hours before you were supposed to complete your task. You’re fuming, and for once, Mark has the decency to read the room and feel remorse. 

The evening had started off well enough, though—Lia and Daniel had showed up, did their thing, described what was happening, and you and Mark had noted it down. And then, well. Mark spilled water all over your planner, which, in hindsight, was definitely unintentional, but in the spur of the moment, you could do nothing but your natural—everybody’s natural—response to getting something precious ruined. You began to cry. “What the fuck,” you sniffled, “is wrong with you?!” You had shaken the majority of water off your planner, but any and all dates had been smudged and bled, and you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him. “I know I called you annoying, but this is too far,” you had said, watching his face go from teasing to genuinely sorry. “Dude, it was accidenta—” 

“I don’t give a fuck—!” You quickly cut yourself off and wipe your tears when you see a young library assistant heading towards your table. Everybody composes themselves—Lia and Daniel straighten out the things on the surface and Mark sits up straight. “Hey,” he says. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but two students already came in with a noise complaint. We’re gonna have to ask you to,” he makes a gesture, “leave for now and come back tomorrow. Also, the puddle on the table…yeah. I’m really sorry.” He leaves, as if to make sure you have no other choice but to just go, and you slump back onto your chair in exhaustion. 

“You two can go ahead,” you hear Mark say, “I’m really sorry about this. We’ll clean up and apologize.” Faintly, you hear them get up, and you feel Lia’s hand squeeze yours as she promises a text and food later. You let your eyes remain shut, drinking in the quiet, trying to calm your inner turmoil.

Ten minutes later, when you’re out in the cold November air, Mark finally speaks. You had cleaned up and collected your things in silence. “I’m really sorry,” he says, “it was an accident, for real. I know I tease a lot, but, uh, I’m being serious. I would never have done that on purpose. I see you write shit on that thing a lot, so…I know how much you like it. Treasure it…? I don’t—whatever it is, I’m really sorry. Like, really. T’was an accident. If you need me to pay for it…” You shake your head softly, hugging your damp planner closer to your sweater-clad chest. “It’s okay. Thanks, anyway. For helping. I’ll email you what you have to do. Bye,” you turn and begin walking in the direction of your dorm. The sun is beginning to set, golden orange hues casting a vast array of colors onto the landscape of the city. You sigh softly, heart heavy with annoyance and exhaustion, and speed up before you start having a mini-breakdown.

—

Stage 1: Denial|

Your cursor blinks back at you as you finish typing in your outline for the introduction. It’s early into November, but already, you’ve had to shut your window to shielf yourself from the biting breeze outside. Across you, Lia applies mascara and talks to you. “What are you up to?” she asks, face contorted. 

“This godforsaken paper,” you mumble back, “just finished the introduction outline. I’m trying to give a loose definition for each gradual ‘stage.’” Shoving your Macbook off your lap, you get up to stretch. “Which I’ll probably find on Google Scholar, honestly. If you had to give me a definition—what’s denial?” 

She hums contemplatively, wand on lash, and then pipes up. “I think it’s just a stage where you can’t face the fact that you’re interested in that person. Like, why them? With Daniel, he wasn’t really my type. So the whole denial was denying I liked him, because…well, yeah. But I think it differs. Some people deny it because they’re shy, or ashamed, or weirded out that they even like them.”

You’ve had your fair share of crushes before, and sure enough, you had denied them all. But that was high school—college, though, had only brought short-lived flings and one night stands; you were an overachiever, much too committed to your own prosperity to pay mind to anybody else for too long. (Except Lia.) So you hadn’t really experienced the whole boyfriend-in-university thing—not that you particularly wanted to, but you were just human; you were curious. Lia had gotten it, and it looked wonderful. 

Speaking of—“So, a week without meeting Mark in person, huh? How is that going for you?” You scoff lightly, shaking your head as you pull your hair into a bun. “It’s going just fine. Dandy, actually. We work from our dorms and you and Daniel just update us. It’s a fine arrangement that I regret was not formulated sooner.” Lia nods in understanding, and you watch her pull on a top, mutter I’m out and head outside. For the fifth time this week, you’re alone in the dorm, with nothing but your Alexa playing SZA and your laptop. You pull it onto your lap again, staring at the boldface letters you had typed minutes prior: denial. You had no firsthand experience of being mature and going through denial; not in that way, anyway. You found it stupid that people even denied when it would be less painful to just admit interest.

You blow a raspberry as you research studies related to the term, bored out of your mind.

—

Two days later, you meet Mark again. 

You’d also had the pleasure of, for a minute or two, meeting a friend of his, Donghyuck Lee from Economics. He’s loud and amusing and, from your viewpoint, undeserving of somebody as boring as Mark. (That’s from a minute-long intercation.) 

At Lia’s insistence (and likely Daniel’s, too), you two met up to properly work and collaborate. In fear of being kicked out again, the four of you had chosen to meet somewhere else—a cafe off-campus affectionately named something along the lines of Saltwater Coffee. Naturally, after Donghyuck leaves, you find yourself sitting idly (awkwardly) beside Mark. “They won’t be long,” he says suddenly, “er, Daniel just texted me. They’re near.” You nod, pursing your lips, eyes trained onto your laptop. “We’re almost done formulating the denial stage and we can start outlining anger and bargaining. This’ll take about a week more—maybe mid to late November? Uh, I know it seems justifiable to slack off with the holidays,” you say, “but I really want us to finish this early. The due date’s in mid-February, so we can pass this on the 14th.” You turn to face him. “Get it? ‘Cause it’s Valentine’s Day.”

He nods. “Okay. No slacking. I get it. The Valentine’s is smart, too.” You nod back in silent understanding, turning back to type frantically into your keyboard. 

You hear the door jingle and Lia’s small “hey, guys”, so you look up and offer a smile. “I’m gonna go order everyone some coffee,” Mark says beside you, getting up and shuffling over to the counter. Daniel joins him, and Lia takes a seat across you, her smile knowing and apologetic. “Everything okay?” You blow a raspberry, but smile, anyway. “It’s not so bad. It could be better, but no more banter, just very annoyed auras…? You get it. It’s just been tough trying to divert my focus to this and ignore all the annoyance I feel.”

“Totally, I get that,” she says, “but all the same, I’m glad he’s matured a little bit and lessened all the ribbing.” You smile at that, agreeing, and then the conversation spirals into one about both of your days—“Professor Callahan totally pops a stiffy over Professor Michaelson”, “Daniel tells me Joshua cheated. Yes, on Jess!”, “Mia dropped out the other day and nobody knows why, hope she’s okay”—before Daniel and Mark return, coffee cups in hand. Mark places one next to you, and profusely, you look up at him, who’s just about to sit. 

“Thanks, but I don’t drink brewed coff—”

“It’s a caramel latte, the only thing you drink. Heard you say that to Lia once.” He takes a seat and pulls his laptop open. 

You stare at him, taking the cup and bringing it to your lips. Sure enough, it’s caramel—thick, and foamy, and sweet. You look up at him again, but he’s busy on Google Scholar, perusing through journals and studies. You shake your head before turning to Lia, who’s already looking at you, expression mirroring yours. 

Sweet, she mouths, but you purse your lips and choose not to acknowledge it. “Thanks,” you say quietly, and he hums to say you’re welcome. 

Your eyes flicker to him. He’s wearing a knitted sweater, but he’s pulled it up to his elbows. He’s typing quickly, and he can use all his fingers, too (you fail miserably at that), and his brows are furrowed as if he’s stressed, or in a hurry. You’ve never really noticed this much of Mark before. It’s probably, you think absently, because you’re confused. Puzzled at the gesture that you didn’t expect—at all.

After an hour, he angles his laptop to yours. “Nailed the intro. High five?” You open the Google doc on your own browser, and sure enough, the word count has increased monumentally. You can’t deny his knack for writing. “There are a few discrepancies in grammar,” you say instead. “But…okay. This is good.” You ignore his hand, in mid-air, and continue researching. 

Lia holds in a giggle, but turns back to Daniel, who, after fifteen minutes, turns to you and Mark. “Lia and I are heading out, guys,” he says, and Lia quickly tacks on. “Hey, if you need me to stay, I can,” she says quickly, but you smile and shake your head. 

“This might take a while. Go ahead. See ya at the dorm, Li. Bye, Daniel.” Mark bids his farewells, too, and they leave you alone in the cafe. It’s nearing a three hour crunch when he abruptly gets up to stretch, a low grunt leaving his lips. “I’m exhausted,” he sighs, “but at least we’re nearly done with this whole denial thing.”

“We’re actually only just starting,” you state, “this is going to go through a lot of editing and proofreading.” 

He chuckles and walks back to the counter to order something, and you shut your laptop to rest your eyes. Your glasses rest uncomfortably on the bridge of your nose as you breathe deeply. You lose track of time, and you open your eyes ten minutes later, fumbling to get up properly. There’s a panini beside your laptop, wrapped neatly in a tissue and laid on a plate. Mark’s is empty, save for crumbs, and he says nothing. 

“Get up,” he remarks teasingly after a while, and you groan in exhaustion. “I am, I’m up,” you mutter, straightening your back and flexing your neck. Inwardly, you wonder if you should thank him for the panini that is obviously yours that you obviously did not buy for yourself. 

Then Mark’s hand stretches out to take the panini, and he takes a bite. “Sorry,” he says, “I had to put my second sandwich in your space. This table’s a little small.” You hum back in acknowledgement, nodding once. “It’s, uh…all good,” you respond, voice small as you type into your laptop. Internally, your body fills slowly with humiliation and confusion, but you stay quiet, and that’s how the rest of the night goes: a silent, steady beat of keyboard clicking and the occasional question. 

No banter, no nothing—it’s a godsend, yes, it is, but you can’t help but miss the abrasive, playful conversations the two of you had built up over the previous several weeks. But really—had you truly assumed he had bought you a panini? As if a coffee wasn’t enough? You felt at odds with yourself for even expecting such a gesture from the guy whose main habit was to annoy you to the ends of the Earth.

“It’s late,” he says, as if he’s reading your mind and knowing you’re absolutely mortified inside. “Let’s head home.” You nod, deeming the night’s work satisfactory—maybe even beyond, considering the amount of effort you both put into the output. You shove your laptop and charger into your bag and pocket your phone, lingering awkwardly and waiting for Mark to finish packing up. He’s particular with it—he has little sections in his backpack for the wires and chargers, and even his AirPods, and his laptop. 

“Very organized,” you find yourself commenting offhandedly, your tone taking on a teasing edge. He glares playfully back at you. 

“Sorry I don’t want my wires to break,” he shoots back, eyeing your flimsy tote bag, “unlike some people.” You roll your eyes and, against your strongest wills, a smile appears on your lips, albeit a small one. His eyes linger on your smile for a little bit before he clears his throat and zips up his knapsack. “Let’s, er, go. Thank Jesus we’re in the same building.” When you exit, the air bites at you despite the jacket covering your body, and you quicken your pace. “It’s cold as hell.”

“Ironic,” Mark says. You hide a smile.

—

That’s what November brings you—the next week and a half are composed of just slowly learning to get used to working with Mark again and going home late into the night, crunching to the max. 

Your paper begins to take on more and more structure, and two out of the six days you’ve met, Mark has set down a caramel latte for you to arrive to. The acoustic music slowly phases into holiday guitar, and the coat rack at the entrance is weighed down more and more as the days pass, preparing to welcome December. 

You and Mark work silently, save for the rare banter and eyeroll, and very gradually, the annoyance that had bubbled up within seconds before had sank down. You’re not friends, per se—it’s just that the frustration and exasperation had lessened considerably. 

You were civil. That’s it. You won’t try to deny that you’ve been thinking about this a little too much—about what your “friendship” had become with Mark. You hadn’t snapped at him in days, and he hadn’t tugged at your ballpen in even longer. It wasn’t that you had cowered him into silence by crying over your planner—it may have instigated it, but his behavior was…different. 

More calm, more sure. Less childish. He would still tease you, but not as much. It’s nearing mid-November now, and you’ve successfully done much of your introduction and denial, needing less and less of Lia and Daniel’s presence. (Which you’re sure they’re grateful for.) But being left alone with Mark isn’t as bad as you once thought—

“Hello. Earth to you,” you distantly hear, and you whip your head in the direction of the voice as you pace back to your dorm building. Mark stares blankly back at you. “What,” you mumble back. He quirks a brow before continuing. “I was saying, I think I need to take a rain check tomorrow. The, uh”—he clears his throat—“um, yeah.”

You eye him. “Okay…?”

He nods profusely, “Yeah, all good.” The walk continues in silence, the sun finally setting down behind the Manhattan skyline beyond you and the breeze taking on a chillier temperature. You sigh softly, fatigue overtaking you as you stare at the building nearing you. “If you take a rain check, just make sure you write it within the day or after,” you say, half-sternly and half-tiredly. He mumbles a “got it” and you both jog up the steps to the lobby, where you run into, by some weird twist of the day, a small group of anti-abortion protesters.

“Jesus Christ,” Mark mutters under his breath. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You rub the bridge of your nose in your fingers, choosing to tune them out and instead maneuver your way through the door. Before you can even take a step, though, they’re all up in your face with pamphlets and brochures and a guitar. “Excuse me,” you grunt, trying to gently push them aside, but they only come on stronger. “A child is a child,” they say. “If you know anybody who’s—”

“Is this your new initiative? Preying on college students on school grounds, unaccounted for?” Mark asks from behind you. You turn to find he’s filming and stifle a laugh. “I’m surprised nobody’s kicked you out. Won’t be long, now,” he adds with a smile. 

You tune out nearly everything else—it’s really just them telling Mark to stop recording and him retorting with equally snarky phrases. It’s not until maybe after a solid two minutes of back and forth that one of them, a weird middle-aged woman, pulls out a burgundy gummy bear from a bag and pushes it into Mark’s camera. He takes it from her and examines it, puzzled. “That,” she says matter-of-factly, “is the approximate size of a fetus. It’s big. It’s sentient, alive. What, I beg of you, what would you do?”

Mark squints at it. Then he pops it into his mouth, takes your hand, and runs straight to the elevator across the floor. 

“There’s a bunch of anti-abortion people outside, it’s not cool!” He hollers to the receptionist before the doors close with a damning click. 

There’s a beat, and then.

Both of you are doubling over in laughter. “Why the hell would y—why would you do that?! You’re insane!” The response is: “Because they’re not cool! They’re fuckin’ annoying! So I ate their baby!” There are tears in your eyes, your laughter so hard it’s nearing silent—Mark’s, though, is loud and annoying sounding, though you seem to not mind so much. The laughter subsides when the ding of your floor sounds and you straighten yourself up. Getting into a different position reminds you of the very there, very obvious brushing of your hand against Mark’s, which he’d taken just moments earlier, post-baby eating.

You freeze and jerk your hand away. “I’ll, um, go now,” you say, “I’ll see you tomorr—no, the day after.” Against your wills, you meet his eyes, and you’re surprised to find that he’s already looking at you, an unreadable expression on his face. “Okay,” he says, his eyes not leaving yours. Your heart beats faster at a very small increment, but you head out and semi-run to your room, swinging it open and leaning against it. 

You look up to find Lia and Daniel engaged in a heated Monopoly match. You make no noise, mind (and heart, but you can’t tell why) racing fast. You watch them play for a second before they both look up slowly.

“You’re smiling like a goddamn idiot,” Daniel says. Your face falls immediately. “I’m, um, no I’m not,” you say casually, pacing over to your bed and flopping onto it. Lia laughs loudly. 

“That sounded so freaked. Like we’re your mom and you just brought weed home kind of freaked.” Pause. 

“Are you hiding something from me?” She rises from her spot to look at you, head in pillow and all, and you let out a muffled “no!”, probably too defensive for your own good. 

It’s Daniel’s turn to snort. You look up and glare at him, “You’re getting too comfortable for your own good. You need to humble yourself, Daniel. What’s it again? Oh yeah, Yeonjun, right?” He rolls his eyes at the use of his Korean name and turns back to the Monopoly board.

Lia flops atop you, eliciting a grunt from your lips. “Are you okay? Did somebody flirt with you? Did Mark finally fuck off and leave you alone properly?” 

At the mention of Mark, your heart races—you will it to stop, and audibly groan in the process. “What is it, you bitch?” Lia asks, tugging on a section of your hair. “It’s nothing, Li! Nothing, I promise.” She glares at you before walking to Daniel and covering his ears. Instantly, he begins to let out a chorus of Lalala, and deeming the environment safe enough, you let it slip.

“Mark and I held hands. But it—”

“You what?!”

“It really, really doesn’t mean anyth—”

“How can that not mean anything? It’s hand holdi—”

“If you would listen to the backstory you’d know!” She pauses, and then uncovers Daniel’s ears and knees him. 

“Okay, get out. Monopoly postponed, Jun,” she says, pushing him out insistently. He barely collects his phone and keys before he’s out, but you swoon silently when you catch him pressing a short goodbye kiss to her forehead before actually leaving. She turns immediately, fire and curiosity awfully evident in her face. 

She nears you. “Explain.” 

And that’s what sparks the story of the weird protesters, Mark’s power move, and the unintentional hand hold that lasted a few moments too long. She nods the entire time, laughing, and then her face straightens out again. You can almost hear the gears in her head turning as she analyzes the situation, and then she nods once. 

“Okay. Perfectly justifiable to freak out.” Another pause. “But why were you smiling?” You stare blankly back at her, head working impossibly quick to formulate a reply. You’ve taken too long now, judging by the way Lia is looking at you with the most shit-eating grin on her fucking face. You groan.

“You like him, you bitch!” 

You shake your head, facing her. “I don’t, dude. Trust me. I just…it was a fun experience, so naturally I’d be laughing. And smiling. But I’m just not interested in Mark! I’m not,” you fumble, being completely honest. 

You didn’t—not even if you looked in the mirror and asked yourself. But you couldn’t deny the feelings you felt in the ten seconds from the elevator to your room, your heart racing and your fist curling and uncurling. When you look at Lia again, she’s still smiling, flushed. “You like him,” she says into her palm, which she’s slapped over her mouth in disbelief. You stare back at her, your expression baffled. “If I did,” you begin, getting up to discard your shirt, “I’d have told you by now. It’s really not that big of a deal unless you make it out to be.”

After that, you and Mark spend nearly three weeks walking on eggshells around each other. While conversations are no longer avoided, and you could talk without getting exasperated or too embarrassed, finger brushes are frequent, and eye contact only makes you extremely nervous. You had worked until the second stage—anger—already, but you’d still been polishing the denial and introduction. Considering November wasn’t over and the paper was due February, you figured you were moving at an okay pace. Besides, a lot of your friends hadn’t even begun.

—

There are two instances where you rush home, mortified beyond belief.

The first when when you struck up a conversation with the cute, Australian barista. Scrawled in big penmanship on his name tag is Chan. You had brought up, in passing, how often you’re at the cafe and how you probably deserve a free drink. He replied with a low hum, and you dialed down your flirty tone, slightly embarrassed. But not really. You’ve rejected plenty of people before. It’s when you’re already paying for your drink that he replied, handing you your (for a change) iced matcha with a small grin. 

“I’d have flirted with you weeks ago if you didn’t have your boyfriend with you all the time. He’s always buying you your drinks.” You spluttered for a good second, staring at him incredulously. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you finally said. 

He had shrugged, nonchalant. “He sure as hell looks at you a lot for someone you’re not dating. And you do it just as much, if not more. I’m observant, by the way. Not a stalker.” You had taken your cup and paced over to the other end of the cafe, sat across Mark, cheeks heated.

He looked up, brow raised. You shook your head.

The second time was when Donghyuck graced you both with his presence. You quickly found out that he was a magnetic presence and you both shared similar interests. The energy you both created was both amusing and annoying to Mark. 

Although you kept quiet mostly, you enabled Donghyuck’s incessant teasing, which annoyed Mark to the ends of the Earth. “You’re a dork. Isn’t he?” You look up and nod with a smile. Mark rolls his eyes, sending Donghyuck into a laughing frenzy. Mark just grunts and continues typing.

Hyuck had made a joke about how two Physics textbooks discussed why the sad man named Mark owns two of them and didn’t have a life, and you laughed. 

You didn’t usually laugh, not around Mark, at least, since it was safe to say you didn’t have any source of entertainment in such a boring guy. But you laughed at the witty joke, and Donghyuck, without thinking much, had said in passing: “Mark, I guess you’re right about everything about her being pretty.”

Mark said nothing, typing. You said nothing. Nobody said anything, not even a sly Donghyuck or, from the counter, an even slyer Chan.

—

When you see Mark next, it’s three days later, and it’s, for the second time, in Johnny’s apartment. 

Lia had asked if you wanted to tag along, and you found no harm in going. (“You’re going because Mark is” becomes Lia’s favorite phrase of the night, so much it’s spread to Daniel, who you’d succumbed to and spilled everything to hours prior.) The walk there has something boiling low in your gut and you’re quiet, in fear you might end up vomiting in nerves or saying something stupid. Lia teases you, but her hand clasping yours reassures you, and you squeeze it tightly. 

You get there late—it’s past 1AM, and you have a sense of deja vu walking into the cramped space. It’s fuller this time—people are creeping into the bedrooms to smoke in private or do some other things, but suffice to say it’s crowded as fuck.

“Want a drink?” Lia hollers, and you nod over the music. Johnny’s neighbor is another upperclassman named Doyoung, though he’s mainly referred to as Doie by just about everybody around him.

You’ve seen his girlfriend call him bunny a few times, though you’ve long desired to repress that memory. 

Judging by the fact that you can faintly hear a different song from the next room, the party has probably extended to Doyoung’s. There’s quite a gathering this week—the rich freshman who you’d befriended once before, Chenle, and his horde of friends are here; from Lia, who hands you a drink, you learn that Kun and Sicheng, two incredibly attractive juniors, are here, too—in Doie’s, though. The party only intensifies, which is hard, because Johnny’s apartment is very tiny.

Eventually, you find yourself in the bathroom, smoking a joint you’d grabbed out of the clammy hands of a tipsy Chenle and kicking a couple out under the guise that you’re Johnny’s cousin. Chenle had protested but eventually given in, pulling a new one out of his pocket.

The bathroom light is white and harsh, but there’s a very funky lamp at the corner. From your place inside the dry (and thankfully clean…looking) bathtub, you eye it. It’s a tall one in the shape of a glass of margarita. 

You heave yourself up and find the switch, and then when it’s on, you giggle at the green light emitting from it. You have absolutely no idea why Johnny, Jaehyun, or their roommate Jungwoo (3J, as some call them) have a decorative, margarita-shaped green lamp, and in their bathroom nonetheless, but you shut off the main light and return to smoking your blunt. Deciding your ass aches far too much, you lean against the tile wall and cherish the smoke.

The door opens abruptly, and you curse, pushing it back closed. 

“I have explosive diarrhea,” you say robotically, using the same excuse you did for the previous three couples that showed up. 

From the other side, you hear a shrill laugh and sound of confusion. When you peer over the other side and see Mark, you groan and laugh. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I saw you come in. Like, twenty minutes ago.”

“I’m cherishing the party privately.”

Mark ushers himself into the dark space and shuts the door. He makes a show of locking it, as if to show you it’s possible to do so. The sound of it locking sends a wave of nerves up your spine. 

“I didn’t lock it in case a medical emergency happens and they have to rush inside.” 

Mark quirks his brow. “I doubt they would think to go inside the restroom and not panic and call 911, you know.” 

You shrug in indifference and take another drag, reluctantly offering it to him.

He takes it, and you pause for a second to observe him. His hair, dark, and which usually covers his entire forehead like a broom or at least parts in the middle slightly, is now styled differently. 

He’s in a fitting black shirt and blue jeans, and, upon your closer inspection, silver rings adorn his fingers. You will yourself to look down. It’s dark. “What’s that you’re holding?” You ask instead, trying not to extend your stare at his shoulders.

“Your puffer coat,” he says, tossing it to you. “Left it last time.”

“That time when you annoyed the shit out of me, right,” you retort.

“Yes, exactly that time. That was ages ago. Weeks ago. Look at us now.”

“Us now—what, still disliking each other?”

He laughs humorlessly, but doesn’t entertain you further. He turns to the lamp instead. “Do you know I was there when they moved this in,” he begins, gesturing to it, “Jae got it at some weird, awful flea market, and he had to buy some extra wiring to fix it or whatever. I was doing Physics homework. It was at the start of this school year. And I bet you didn’t know…” he bends down and reaches to the base of the lamp, pressing a button, “that it changes color.”

The room is bathed in red now, and you swallow. “Interesting,” you manage to say, despite the racing in your head. “Very,” he responds, taking a step closer to you. You gaze up at him. He’s tall. You breathe softly. You nod in agreement. You don’t know what to do. You want to punch him and kiss him and leave all at once. 

You want to kiss him, oh God, you want to kiss him.

“Oh God,” you say softly, out loud. Oh fuck. Too much weed?

He inches closer, leaving the blunt on the rim of the sink. “Why?” He smiles a little and you smile back, nervous. He’s so close now, and he smells so good—like cologne and laundry and weed. You shake your head. “Nothing,” you mumble back.

He’s even closer now, eyes boring into yours. You adjust your strap, a nervous habit. He takes your hand and does it for you. “I like this song,” he says casually, like he’s not playing with the strap of your dress. “Do you know what it’s called?” It’s vaguely familiar to you, but you shake your head. 

“It’s Jhene Aiko,” he replies, and you nod. You gravitate closer.

You stare at him. He stares back. “I’m high,” you say. You giggle. “I had a brownie and that blunt.”

“That’s a lot,” he says. “Don’t finish the blunt, ‘kay?” You nod back, and giggle again. In two seconds, your nervous mechanism has kicked in and you’re laughing like a psycho. “I’m high,” you repeat, and then he kisses you, effectively sobering you up.

Huh. He kisses you, effectively sobering you up. He kisses you.

You kiss back, shocked and relieved, deepening it, trying to get as much of him as possible. His hands are big and wide and warm, traveling all over you. You want him. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, lips molding against yours deliriously. 

“Want you,” you say when his hands play with the hem of your dress, teetering closer and closer to your core. “I said, I want you,” you whine, “now.” Mark only laughs, his hands under your dress and playing with the lace waistband of your underwear. 

“I like how this feels,” he mumbles. “Wanna take a look.” You whimper, hiking your leg up and nodding. “Please, just…touch me,” you say breathlessly. “Please.”

“I will,” he says, voice calm. “You’re being good.” You can’t deny the noise you make at the praise, breathy and loud. You pull him in again, drunk for more, your hands raking through his hair. It’s dark, the both of you basking in the small red light. Mark hikes your dress up, inching it higher, slowly, until he sees the hem of your white lace underwear. He grunts and pulls at it. “I love this,” he says. “So fuckin’, Jesus.” 

You giggle against the smile. He toys with your panties for a bit before finally pulling them down, watching them sink to your ankles. “Hot,” he jokes, and you laugh in disbelief. “Why would you even be joking abou—”

“Mark! Let’s go, it’s 2:30!” Donghyuck’s voice is just as loud and clear as it would be if you weren’t separated by a door. Jolted, you and Mark instinctively break apart and stare at the rattling door. “Maaaark,” he sing-songs, knocking to a beat. You stare at Mark, waiting for him to respond.

“I have explosive diarrhea,” he says. You stifle a guffaw, pulling your panties up.

He pouts, tapping your ass. “Bullshit,” Donghyuck says from outside. “I’m cooomin’ in!”

In the span of a minute, where you realize Donghyuck is not bluffing and in fact has a stolen bathroom key from Jungwoo’s bedside drawer, you manage to shove yourself into the bathtub and hide yourself with the curtain. Mark switches the light back on, much to both of your disappointment, and pretends to smoke the blunt you’d left on the sink fifteen minutes ago. Ergo: pre-kiss.

You find your phone on the bathtub floor and grip it, turning the brightness down. You have a plethora of messages and voicemails from Lia, five calls from Daniel, and an interesting iMessage of Donghyuck’s red, weed-induced eyes from an unknown number. It could be anybody, and that scares you.

The texts are all frantic, and they’re the last things that bring you out of your high and back to reality. Where are u, who u with?, u getting railed??!, Have you seen mark?

“Hyuck, if I actually did have a shitstorm coming out of my ass, you’d be so sorry for breaking in,” you hear Mark say. You sink lower into the bathtub, awaiting Donghyuck’s voice. “You were the one who suggested we go at 2:30, and you’ve been smoking weed for the longest time, dipshit,” he says, “now let’s go. I haven’t seen your Psych girl all night, so you can cry about it at home.” You faintly detect Mark protesting and then, “Let me just freshen up! Just go ahead.”

Reluctantly, you peek out and find Mark alone. You get up and fix your dress.

You’re sober now. The red lights are gone. It’s just you and Mark, plain and simple. Your feelings haven’t gone away, though. You’re fucking fucked. You want him to fuck you. Oh, fuck.

“Go,” you say instead, spluttering. “And I’ll see you. Tuesday.”

You leave first despite yourself, not turning around for even a split second, finding a worried (and then relieved) Lia and taking five consecutive tequila shots to down the nerves and denial bubbling in your system. She raises a brow, but you refuse to even meet her eyes, head and heart pounding impossibly fast. You want to kiss him again. So, so bad. But what the fuck did you just let happen?

—

Stage 2: Anger|

Lia hadn’t pressed, and you were nervous, but it was getting easy to diverge the details of what happened during Johnny’s party. You had instead opted to work alone, too much of a coward to even see Mark’s face. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you feared you might just kiss him if you ever saw him. So you spent days at class working, and then at your dorm working, adjusting your route to avoid, as much as possible, Mark or Hyuck’s buildings and that godforsaken cafe. You did text Mark, though, and the exchanges were brief, not even a “thank you” or “good morning” preceding them. It was awful.

Working alone forced you into a heavy load of retrospection. You would think deeply, like how you are now, spiraling into a series of questions where you studied the play-by-play of what happened in the bathroom, up against the wall. You liked it. A lot. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t let yourself. Why it even happened…God. You mentally berated yourself for giving into it. Didn’t you hate him? Or at least dislike him? Didn’t you take pleasure in scolding him or fighting with him?

“You’re freaking me out,” Lia says from her bed. She’s been staring at you. “You’ve been lying on your bed staring at the ceiling for twenty straight minutes.” She walks over to you, flopping next to you, her arms winding around your body. “You can tell me anything.”

“I know,” you say, nervous. You gulp.

“Okay. If you’re n—”

“Mark and I kissed.”

She sits up and turns to look at you.

“Made out, more like. We were going to fuck if we didn’t get interrupted.” You’re mortified, refusing to meet her gaze. When you look up, her face is even, but you know she’s bubbling over with giddiness inside. “That is so fucking great, dude,” she replies. “Why are you so embarrassed?”

“Because it’s Mark,” you whine. “He’s not…I don’t know.”

She lies back down. “You’re overthinking this.” You laugh, poking her waist. “I know, but I just…I feel like he might not like me much anymore.” You recount the way you left him hanging, despite the lack of awkward air and the potential to talk and become something. She tsks but justifies it, because she’s so good at that, being a mediator, and you continue with your day quietly. 

Your mind is always on it, though, his hands and his lips, and you’ve scoured Spotify for the song playing that he had commented on.

It’s called Pussy Fairy. You cannot make it up. It’s a weird title, but the song is heavenly, and you can’t deny when it’s full blast on your AirPods and your hand is creeping closer and closer there, trying desperately to replicate what you felt in that moment. When you’re not sated, ashamed and sighing, you resort to working on your paper. There are moments where both you and Mark are working at the same time, and you hate yourself for getting all flustered when it happens. 

—

It’s a Tuesday, in the early afternoon, when you’re out of class and cleaning out the little litter in your dorm, repasting whatever decorations fell off, et cetera. You have the time, anyway, and it wouldn’t hurt to fix the place up a bit. You’re halfway into re-stringing Lia’s fairy lights when someone knocks on the door, jolting you. You curse under your breath, hopping off her bed to swing the door open and reveal—

“What is up?!” Donghyuck grins back at you. His hand is raised in a high-five invitation, which you hesitantly reciprocate. “Mark tells me you’re meeting today, and that I should come remind you, since it seems like you forgot. He says you haven’t texted all day. Since I was on this floor—do you know Jeno Lee? Do you know it’s so amusing how Mark, Jeno, and I all have the same surname? Anyway. I was here on your floor to remind Jeno about an Econ presentation, and Mark texts me and goes, if you’re with Jeno, then remind you—you as in you, you—to come meet me and work.” 

He talks so goddamn fast. “You talk so goddamn fast.”

He just guffaws, high-fiving you again. “Well, you get my point, right? Meet Mark at the cafe and work is all he said to do. If you wanna.” You nod slowly, absorbing his words. “Tell him I’ll be a little late,” you say simply, and as you’re about to shut the door, he talks again, his voice quieter this time. “I know you were hiding behind the curtain.”

You pull the door open again, so fast a minuscule gust of wind washes over both of your faces. “You’re kidding,” you say, “you’re kidding.” You stare at each other for a second before his solem features break into a smile. “I am. Mark spilled everything to me, so I decided to trick you.” Relief and annoyance break over your system as you swat Donghyuck’s shoulder. “You’re a dick,” you spit. “You’re bringing a bad image to Econ majors.”

He merely laughs and closes the door himself, light brown hair fluffing with the severity of his laugh (cackle.) Slightly annoyed, you drag yourself to get dressed, dread building up in your stomach at the prospect of seeing Mark again. Not when your mind conjures up what happened everytime you just see his name. Or the word mark. You’ve been out of it since it happened, not even responding to your usual heated debates with the conservative Trump supporter in class. You suppose the best way to confront it is to simply confront it.

When you get there, though, it’s clear that confrontation would not be an option. Immediately, when you sit, the air shifts into something oddly familiar—the atmosphere between the two of you when you first got partnered up. Except now, Mark won’t even give you a pinch of attention, or banter, instead typing his questions into the document to avoid verbal conversation. (He is a fucking petty bitch, you’ll give him that.)

You stroll over to the counter, pout set on your lips. “Hello,” Chan says politely, and you just smile half-heartedly. “Lover’s quarrel?” He teases, and you roll your eyes. “He’s ignoring me,” you respond, watching him make you a latte. “And we’re not dating. We never were.”

“Mm, right,” he says, finishing and setting your drink in front of you. You laugh a little, taking it. “No. We weren’t. But I’ll update you.”

When you return, Mark’s looking at you, quiet as ever. You break his gaze and continue working, working and working until the sun sets, nestled deep behind the horizon. When you look up again, the sky is already dark, city lights providing solace to the place. You look at Mark quizzically, as if to ask him what time you should both leave, but he just shrugs. “Any time,” he states plainly, and huffing, you get up.

“I’ll go right ahead then,” you say, trying your best to sound annoyed and get your message across. He says nothing, watching you pack up your stuff and sling your bag over your shoulder, and then eventually, leave.

Daniel is the first to see you in your raged, annoyed state—you meet him in the elevator of the lobby, your blood boiling and your fists balled. Knowing you’re headed to the same floor, he presses the button, ruffles his hair, and then lets the silence take over. And then, “What’s going on?” You breathe deeply, turning to him with a tired look on your face. “Mark’s going on,” you mumble, “he was ignoring me the entire time. And to think he was the one who requested my presence! It makes no sense. Why would he ignore me when we can just talk about it?”

“About what?”

It suddenly occurs to you that Daniel knows about your weird feelings for Mark, but not how they culminated. You splutter. “Um, about us. Everything.” Daniel looks amused, but the doors open, and you thank them for the temporary exit from the topic. He stops you right outside, though, and pulls out two ticket, card-looking things. “Wait, um. Listen, Lia and I are going to reach our seven-month…anniversary, I guess, of, y’know, being a thing. I know it seems really small, but I want to give her a little something out of appreciation, so I got us a room at this ski lodge outside the city.”

“That’s so sweet,” you say honestly, “but I must admit, it comes on sort of stalker-y. Like you’re whisking her off out of the city.”

He beams even louder. “That’s why you’re coming. With Mark!”

You gape back at him. “Did you miss the whole I-hate-him thing that happened in there?” You jab your finger towards the closed elevator doors, disbelief written across your face. He laughs. “Sometimes you can’t keep hiding behind”—he begins walking to your room, and you follow suit—“emotions, like anger. When I liked Lia, there was a point where I was just pretending to alienate her so I wouldn’t have to face that I was starting to love her. Like her. And you know, she did it right back.” 

“Oh, quit it,” you scoff, insistent. “You’re lecturing me like you’ve been married a decade.”

“That’s what I want,” he says, and you gag. “The first step to that would be ski lodge trip, so you’re coming!”

You’re in front of your room now, and you pinch his wrist as he reaches for the handle, gaining his full attention. “I’ll gladly go,” you whisper, “if Mark’s out.” Daniel just laughs, shaking his head. “No, no. An overnight trip would delay your paper severely. Plus, they have two beds per room.”

“We’ll be staying in the same roo—hey, Li,” you say, quickly cutting your angry rant off when she opens the door, her face confused (to say the least.) 

“Mm, hey,” she says, ushering the two of you in. “How long were you two out there?” Daniel shrugs, ruffling his hair and then pressing a kiss on Lia’s forehead. You boo from your place on your bed, buried under your duvet. “You both suck,” you holler, “always sexing it up in a sacred space. AKA my room.” Lia just grins and jumps on top of you, drawing grunts from you both. Daniel seats himself on the floor and busies himself with his phone. “How was Mark,” she whispers into your hair, and you groan.

“Bad,” you respond, “I’m so annoyed. We’re back to square one.” She makes an apologetic noise and gets up with a sigh, adjusting the strings of her pullover and then hugging Daniel. You watch them. You want to kiss Mark again. Life sucks that way.

—

Predictably, Mark turns down the offer of the ski lodge. He’s polite about it, too, especially since he and Daniel have grown a little bit closer since the start of your project. Daniel is, by no means, a “Mark anti”, but he would participate in the ribbing sometimes. Still, he’s insistent on the trip, saying it’s the best way to welcome December and that the forecast predicts a nice, thick layer of snow. It takes a week and two coffees everyday for Mark to give in, under the condition that he buy his own room when you get there.

Which, honestly, really, you have no problem with. Really, you think to yourself as you unceremoniously shove a knitted sweater into your bag. Really. Lia, who had graciously accepted the surprise, watches you abuse your bag, shoving sweater and scarf inside like they want to murder you. “Relax,” she says after a while. You laugh, playing it off (not so) casually.

The drive up there, courtesy of Daniel and a borrowed Prius, is fun, and cramped, but still decent, considering it was just an hour long. You’re in the back with Lia, and Mark is in charge of the AUX, which, of course, comes with its own bout of jokes. You even find the heart to participate and laugh in a few, not daring to meet his eyes. But all his songs are so fucking good. Frank Ocean, Jhene Aiko, SZA, and smaller indie artists flow from the speaker under his phone. The car ride has its share of epic karaoke moments—Mark plays ABBA, and Queen, solely to make sure everybody is belting out to the high heavens.

You get there when the sky’s purple and orange and there are some skiiers scattered around, though, since it’s not the proper holiday period, not too much. You trek over to the main lodge and that’s where Daniel pays for his reservations, and he and Lia retire to their room and promise to get up for dinner. You’re, again, alone with Mark in the lobby as you both stare at each other, willing the other to get up first. He does, to buy his own room like he said he would, and you can faintly hear the exchange from your seat on their nice, fluffy couch.

“I’m sorry, sir. We’re renovating a majority of the rooms for the holidays. That’s why reservations were a prerequisite for staying here.”

Mark sighs. “Okay, right. I’m so sorry. Um”—it’s at this point that you go up next to him, polite smile on your face, ready to take the room key and fuck off—“could we just get an extra blanket, please? For one of the beds.” The receptionist gives a curt smile, handing over the keycard and nodding. “That’ll be one queen-sized warm blanket, then,” she hums, typing away. The receptionist beside her goes to the back, presumably to get the blanket. Mark nods, smiling. “For two queen-sized beds, it must be a big room for both of them to fit comfortably,” he comments offhandedly, fiddling with the card.

The receptionist chuckles. “There is only one bed, sir.”

Oh, God. “Oh, God,” you whisper. “One bed?” She nods with an eye-crinkling smile, like her words have not just rained hell upon the two people across her. “One bed and a sofa,” she corrects herself, reading the information on the computer by the desk. Not wanting to risk your last shred of sanity, you smile profusely, walking quickly towards your room which, thankfully, is on the same floor, at the end of the hall. It’s a small, quaint place that would be honest-to-God perfect if not for the fact that—

“There’s one bed,” Mark sighs, the truth clicking into place. “Daniel is a fucking shithead.” You drop your bag onto the carpeted floor, surveying the room with a scrutinizing gaze. It’s sizable—a bed, a couch, a window. There’s a small wooden desk that looks like its legs can barely hold its weight, and then another door, leading to the bathroom. It’s not bad at all. But you’re exhausted, the sun’s long gone, and your resolve is shredding away as the seconds tick by. “Take the couch,” you say dismissively, “or the carpet.” You make a beeline for the bed, but Mark’s arm wraps around your waist, effectively stopping you.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod “Shut up and let go of me, dick,” you stutter out. Mark loosens his grip and you shove him off, glaring at him. He gazes back down at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “We can’t just make up terms without negotiation,” he says matter-of-factly, and you blow a raspberry. “Fine. Let’s negotiate then. I’m a girl and that puts me above you because chivalry isn’t dead, thus, boom, I get the bed.”

“I was in the uncomfortable passenger seat all day and my lower back hurts,” he counters.

“My legs are wobbly.”

“Bullshit. My back aches.”

“You already said that, it’s invalid.”

The back and forth only intensifies, your arguments growing more and more bizarre, until finally, your volume is so high Lia says she can hear it faintly, four doors down. 

“The couch looks comfy,” you try, but Mark stands firm. 

“Do you know what? The bed is big. It’s a big bed. And we’re not going to take up much space. If we divide the bed with the sofa pillows…” you pick up the cushions and line them up neatly along the middle, “…then we can sleep beside each other without having to make contact with each other.” He seems convinced, stepping closer to the bed and nodding. “Okay. I get first dibs on the shower.”

“Asshole,” you mutter, but you let him anyway. You’ve unpacked nearly all your things and he isn’t done yet, so you’ve resorted to scrolling mindlessly through Tiktok and laughing at just about everyone that pops up on screen. Mark finally exits after what feels like forever, and you keep your eyes trained on your screen to avoid looking at him. From your peripheral vision, he is very much shirtless. There are no words exchanged, the thickness in the air only building bit by bit.

—

Three hours later, post-dinner, post-abandoning the thought of working on your paper, you’re stumbling into your room after helping the very tipsy couple of the night into theirs. You’re beyond tired now, and you can tell Mark is, too, despite the lack of eye contact or communication between you. You don’t even look at him, brushing your teeth and removing your makeup and clipping your hair up into a bun. It’s when he does the same, and you’re both in bed, using your phones, that he finally breaks the silence.

“I’m not mad,” he says. His voice is even and calm, and you quickly shut your phone off and sit up, peering over the pillow boundary you had created. You look at him expectantly before he sighs and continues. “Why did you leave?”

You stand up, getting out, trying to increase distance. You’ve never really liked confrontation. “I was weirded out,” you spill, “and scared…? I guess with the nearness of being caught, and with all the lights on, I was just shocked back to reality.”

He sits up. “What’s reality?”

“I don’t—know,” you splutter, getting back on the bed. “Not kissing you?”

He laughs, and then it becomes silent. “Right. Let’s sleep, then.” Without another word, he pulls his lamp off, and only the white moonlight is left illuminating the both of you. Shucking yourself under the covers, feeling your heart practically thump out of your chest. You honestly think he can hear it, or at least feel it. Suddenly the boundary doesn’t do much. You turn away from him, nervous, and you can faintly hear his breathing even out. You shut your eyes for a second. When you open them again, he’s looking right at you. “Just checking to see if you’re asleep,” he says quietly. You nod. And then you lean upwards, just a touch, so your lips nearly brush slightly. “Night,” you say, before turning to sleep for real.

You’re not sure when. And how. Sure, you faintly remember digging your legs sleepily through the sheets to find warmth and tangling Mark’s in your own. But still—when you’re up, the pillow fort is at your feet, hanging precariously off the four post bed, and your back is against Mark’s chest. His breath fans lightly over your hair and you blearily register what happened overnight. His arm is slung over your middle, it’s quiet, and oh Christ, he is hard.

It’s fairly late. He’s hard. The antique clock mounted up on the wall tells you it’s around nine, which essentially gave you seven hours of sleep. He’s hard. You bask in the warmth of Mark for a while before your resolve solidifies and you gently push his arm off from its position on your hips. He only comes on stronger, wrapping fully around your waist, mumbling incoherence into your hair. He’s hard. You squeeze your eyes shut, summoning sleep to overcome you quickly, but it never does. Dread overcomes you as you feel your underwear grow damp.

“Mm,” Mark grunts, his hand around your waist loosening. You move away but his head suddenly lolls into the crook of your neck, his lips touching the side of it. You whimper. He’s a fucking asshole, even when he’s asleep. You pinch his arm, jolting him to half-awakeness, and you roll away, despite your body’s protests.

He blinks his eyes open. “Sorry, shit,” he says, voice deep and ridden with sleep. You’re fucked.

“It’s okay,” you splutter instead. “Just go back to sleep.” You faintly register that you sound just as exhausted as he does, and you bury your head back into the covers. Everything, plus the sound of his voice, has you dripping, and you breathe in deeply to poorly disguise a whimper. He chuckles, already half-asleep, from where he is, and it’s quiet for a few minutes before you realize he’s fallen asleep. Knowing Lia and Daniel will be busy for a while, you pull a spare pillow over your head and chant to yourself before falling back asleep, too.

When you awaken, the bed is cold and empty, and the shower’s running. You check the time to find only an hour has passed, but you’re much more awake now, getting up and knocking incessantly on the bathroom door. “Hurry,” you demand hoarsely, “I want to go skiing.” You hear a muffled okay and scurry over to your bag to find the pair of leggings you had packed for this. You also find your parka, and you pull off your shirt to clasp on a bra.

“Not that I don’t mind,” Mark says, eliciting a yelp from you as you tug a sweater on at record speed, “but generally, that kind of thing only goes unnoticed in nudist colonies. I could research some for you, if you’d—ow! I was joking, God!” You bonk him twice over the head with the Bible on the bedside table, your brows furrowed angrily. “You looked, asshat,” you say, collecting your things and locking yourself in the bathroom.

When it becomes increasingly evident that Lia and Daniel have no plans of exiting their room, you grumble and resort to skiing alone. But as you’re shuffling out, bundled up, you spot Mark leaning against the exit waiting for you. He looks up and tsks. “About fucking time,” he says, holding the door open for you. It’s not that cold out—maybe you’re just used to having snow and chilly weather, and so is Mark—so you barely shiver, walking around and looking for a good place to ski.

“Forget skiing,” Mark says after a few rounds. “Let’s go sledding. I have a thing.”

“A toboggan, you mean.”

“A funny word. Really, just say sled.”

You let up, anyway, the bright sky and cold ground sending serotonin right into you. Sure enough, Mark does have a nice, blue sled that he lets you on, and then the two of you are bolting down the hill at breakneck speed, laughing all the way. It’s quite a long ride, and you’re smiling and yelping so much the cloth you’ve used to cover your neck has ridden down, the cold air hitting your face harshly.

You land very ungracefully—the toboggan hits a small tree and sends you and Mark catapulting in the same direction, your hands clawing at the air for expense. You find Mark’s arm and cling onto it in the split second you’re in the air, landing on a clearing of thick snow. The arm you’ve clung onto pulls you closer, Mark grunting “be careful,” and when the whole fiasco’s over, you’re smiling like an idiot, and you’re right on top of Mark.

You’re not straddling him or anything, but you’ve just happened to land with your face a little above his. You can’t stop laughing, your face flushed and red with the cold air hitting your face. So you laugh. Why wouldn’t you laugh? It was a good day. A good ride down the hill. So you keep laughing until they’re reduced to giggles, Mark laughing right along as you pull down the covering of his mouth and tug his beanie off, ruffling your hands in his hair and dipping down to kiss him.

He kisses you right back, his lips cold but quickly growing warm with the friction. You smile into the kiss, your hands roaming all over his pink face. The kiss is giggly and light, your hands all over each other as the sunlight filters in through the thick trees overhead.

You pull away after a while. “I hate you,” you whisper. He presses a kiss to your jawline and lets it linger there. “You think I don’t?”

—

Stage 3: Bargaining, Depression|

You’ve begun to type the structure out when Lia tugs on your pajamas, her tone insistent and curious. “What’s up with you and Mark?” she presses, her cheek pressed to your stomach. You fervently hope she doesnt notice how your breathing quickens, and, keeping your voice even, you answer. “We’re…thinking about things.”

Which—you were thinking about things, to be fair. There were things to be thought and you had to think about them. It was a broad half-truth. It had been two weeks since the ski lodge thing, and you and Mark had decided it was probably best to shut the fuck up about everything you had done. (Everything meaning a few kisses here and there, and maybe a little more under the covers.) You’d hated yourself for hiding it from Lia, but you and Mark were actually feeling hesitant about moving forward with whatever you were. There was a lot of ambiguity and questions, and until you could clear it up yourself, you knew you weren’t ready to tell anybody else. You had talked about it already—clearly, the two of you were beyond jumping straight into a relationship after not liking each other that much and then becoming hesitant friends.

But it was, if you had to admit it to yourself, nice having that little secret.

“I’d want to tell Lia soon,” you tease, walking steadily beside Mark. The afternoon sun is warm on your heads, the snow falling intermittently. He turns with a small smile. “I’d want to tell Hyuck, too.” You scoff, burying your head in his chest. You probably look fucking disgusting. Around you, Washington Square Park is full of natives and tourists, and college students like you, all scurrying around and giving you that very much holiday feel.

He buys you a hot cocoa and hands it to you. “Are you heading home soon?”

You take a sip, your tongue hot. “If my ratty dorm counts as home, then yes.”

“Home is a feeling, not a place. Does your ratty dorm feel like home?”

“Kind of. Lia’s there. And so is the rat infestation in the ceiling.”

Mark nearly chokes on his cocoa. “You’re gross as fuck.”

You let out a loud laugh, your beanie nearly falling off with the bounciness of it. Mark reaches behind you to catch it, pressing a kiss to your lips in the process, soft and light and God, you like it. A lot. “Clumsy,” he remarks, pulling it back on and dragging a generous amount of your hair in front of your eyes as he does it. “It’s gonna be Christmas soon, and thank God we’re nearly done with this paper.”

“It was my genius idea to combine bargaining and depression,” you quip. “That’s my gift to you. Merry Christmas, Mark Lee.” He laughs at that. His laugh, you’ve noticed, is goddamn loud, and it’s a literal cackle, but he always looks so happy when he laughs. And buoyant. “You look stupid,” you say, but the smile on your face is undeniable. He glares playfully at you, taking your hand and walking you both in the direction of your building.

“New York in the snow,” he hums. “Always a great place.”

“It’s full of tourists,” you counter. Always disagreeing.

He chuckles and then, like clockwork—like how you’ve done it for the past six dates—you separate when you’re just shy of a meter away from the lobby entrance. Your fingers curl in search of his, and you jog up the steps, eager to get into the warmth of the building. The lobby’s pretty empty, save for a couple of students. Mark’s ahead of you, already pressing the elevator button and waiting impatiently. 

“We’re alone,” he sing-songs, his eyebrows wiggling. The doors open right as you take Mark’s hand, and you look up to meet Daniel’s wide eyes. Then you look to the right to meet Lia’s.

Despite your inner turmoil, you remain nonchalant, pinching Mark’s wrist instead of holding it like you’d planned. “That’s why our professor fucking hates you,” you say, narrowing your eyes. Your heart is beating a mile a minute, but you muster a neutral expression, shoving your hands back into your pockets. Lia knows you, though, and her furrowed eyebrows and parted lips say everything—but you just shrug, playing off what they could have caught you doing. “Hey,” you say, walking into the elevator with Mark. It all blows over.

AKA: Daniel has to drag a curious Lia away from you, with a promise that you would converse later. You and Mark are alone again, in the elevator, your hands barely touching, laughs loud. It’s all blurry after that. You’re high on a laugh and the thought of a kiss—you drag him over to your room, hands in his hair, breathless, loose kisses. You’re both so exhausted, though, that all you manage to extend your energy to is taking your tops off and making out lazily to the songs you’d recommended to each other.

“Mm,” he says when one of your songs starts playing. “It’s a nice song.” You nod with a smile. “I know it is, it’s one of my recommendations. It’s called Softly.” He plays with the strap of your bra. “I’ll give it more of a listen, then. Also, a red bra to school? Whatever will the professors think,” he jokes lightly, pressing insistent, but soft kisses on your shoulder. You laugh, pinching the inner part of his arm and eliciting a swear from him. “I was joking! I know you wore this for me, stupid.” The wind whistles outside, barely audible from the half-open window across the room, overlapping with the music.

This all feels too real, now.

You pout lazily against his bare chest. “Get off before Lia gets in,” you mumble, your heart beginning to race. He does, for what it’s worth, rolling off your bed with a loud thump and tugging his shirt and sweater back on. You watch him (fondly) annoyedly, your hair draping over you as you get up to properly shove him out. “Out, out,” you chant, laughing, and he giggles, turning abruptly to poke at your waist.

“Shut up,” you groan, a smile on your face. There’s a beat, then he pulls you close and kisses you, running outside right after with a literal guffaw. You watch him, wrapping your fleece blanket around your frame as he runs to the elevator, sweater backwards and hair messy.

—

Doubts are normal. This you’re assured of, but your head pounds with the sheer amount of things you’re cramming into it. You squint impossibly harder, trying to get the nail polish into the crook of Lia’s nail. You’ve probably overdone it, judging by the way she jabs her knuckle in between your eyebrows, her face contorted in worry. “Are you…okay?”

You narrow your eyes, the inner debate of telling her raging on and on. The nail polish drips onto her fingernail, rolling onto her pant leg, and she yelps, but her eyes are still on you. “You can tell me anything,” she says, softer this time. You know she’s serious—you know you can. You always have. You told her about every fling, one night stand, pregnancy scare, bad grade, hot professor, and spoiled deli food you’d encountered since you ever became friends. She knew you. And you were so sure she knew what you were about to say.

Except you didn’t know what you wanted to say. Your feelings were a mess, and you wanted one thing as much as you wanted the other. You couldn’t place what you wanted, and if you had to narrow it down, you’d realize that you were scared of what you wanted. You were never really one for commitment, or a relationship, or really anything, for that matter. And the fact that you were so hung up on thinking about what you and Mark would become—Mark? It all seemed so dystopian, almost. Like you’d never expected it. Your friendship was a childhood bubble that popped in the span of your first high school semester, and that was that. But just two days ago you were being kissed all over by the same guy you’d had a cutthroat student council president competition with.

It seemed so absurd? Crazy? Those adjectives were a little over the top. Deep down, if you dug deep enough into the parts you didn’t even tell yourself, you knew what you were. And if anybody else were to know, it would be Lia.

“I’m scared,” you choke out, your voice shaky. “I’m scared and sad, and happy and angry, and I want this but I don’t.” You cover the nail polish, shaking your head. “This is all so new to me. I hate how much I feel, especially because it feels so wrong. You know me—relationships are just not cut out for me. They’re scary and new. And people in relationships turn all gooey. I’m scared that this won’t last, but I’m scared that it will, and I’ll be doomed to an eternity of bland, padlocked relationships. It’s weird. I could be feeling this way for anyone, but it had to be Mark? If only I didn’t hate him, then maybe we could’ve gone off on a better foot. If only this whole thing never fucking happened, right?”

“It’s okay,” Lia cuts in. “Being scared is okay. It’s part of the whole process. And nobody said you had to get along like conjoined twins in a relationship. They just go when they go and end when they end. Not every relationship starts as a high school sweetheart thing and ends with three kids and a picket fence. And I’m so sure Mark would be so understanding if you didn’t like him or if you chose not to continue.”

“You knew?”

She laughs. “Of course I knew. I know a post-sex glow when I see one, and I was blinded that morning at the ski lodge.” You groan, pinching her indignantly, hiding your face in your hands as she laughs out of view. “Okay. Take some time and think about it, but for now, I want to get my nails done, so.” 

—

It’ll be a week before you come up with what you want, and the whole time you generally avoid talking about solemn topics with him in person. 

It’ll be another few days before you finally talk to him personally—with your paper nearly finished, you suggest a meeting at the library. It’s just two days before Christmas Eve, and you know Mark’s going to be driving to Canada, so you want to snatch him away for your own personal time for just a second. The snow has all but thickened as you meet outside the building, the silence deafening.

“Hi,” he says, smiling. You know he’s probably picked up on your erratic, quieter behavior in the past several days, but you gulp and lead him inside anyways, to your favorite section. “It’s almost Christmas Eve,” he says, watching you stall, surrounded by Philosophy books from just about every century. “I know,” you say, hoping you don’t sound too nervous.

“You sound nervous,” he says.

“Do I?” you ask shakily, your voice taking on an unnaturally high pitch. “I mean, er. I guess I sort of am. I guess I’ve been thinking about everything lately—about you and me and everything that just happened so suddenly. Because—because it did happen so suddenly. I just…needed time? Yeah, time. To think about everything. Because it all happened so quickly, I…” you stutter. “I’m scared of these things. I’m not used to them. Relationships? Things that last longer than a couple weeks? I don’t like these. 

I have something bigger I want to focus on and anybody who gets in the way just isn’t worth it. And it’s so weird how it was you out of all people I started thinking about it with. Usually I just have the rare fling and then they’re gone, and I’m not even mad. But you’re different. And I like it. 

But I just needed time to find out if I really liked it. If I really wanted to try. I know it’s only been a few weeks, and I probably sound really fucking stupid, but you get me—you get me, right? And that’s how I realized—if it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. I don’t know why I overthought it. I mean, it’s a good thing and a bad thing that I did. Like, on one hand, I got to really think about how this would play out, and on the other, I’d just end up spiraling. And it’s just weird. I hope you don’t know I hated you. Hate you? Hated you. I was just—it was all so juvenile. Everything just stemmed from that one awfully dumb high school rivalry. But other than that, you were always a cool…see what I mean? I’m kind of rambling—even if I thought I had planned this out. And. Yeah. I dunno. I fucking…I hate you, stop laughing.”

Mark smiles down at you—you’re busy pretending to read a Sartre book to look unfazed, but your flickering gaze says it all. 

“Okay, stupid,” he says, bordering onto a laugh. “If that’s your way of saying you’re willing to give this a try, then I graciously accept. Should I be saying something equally long? I—is that how this works?”

You roll your eyes and kiss him instead, pulling him close, Sartre’s postulates dropping to the floor alongside your tiptoes.

—

Stage 4: Acceptance|

“Acceptance is just that. Just accepting that you love that person after weeks or months of all the other stages. With her, it was. Like. It’s the whole sitting down after silence, having some time for the revelation to set in before you realize you love them. Or like them? Well, love them, I guess. But I don’t know why you would be asking me this.”

You bury your head further into Mark’s shoulder, your eyes strained from how long they’d been trained onto your screen. You smile up at Daniel, thanking him for the input and beginning to type it in, watching Lia doze off on his shoulder. “We’re asking because we’re not quite there yet,” Mark hums, “it’s just February. It’s barely been two months.” You nod, watching Mark type where you left off on the document. Daniel snorts from across you. “You’re just about, I guess.” Mark chuckles, shrugging so your head bounces off his shoulder unceremoniously.

“Like I’d ever fall in love with that shitstorm,” he says pointedly.

“Oh, and I’d fall in love with this dickwad?”

“You’re perfect for each other. Bullying, but we all know Mark brought back gifts from Canada and that you stitched an initial onto his sweater.”

“To practice my embroidery. Also, I stitched Mark’s initial. M. Asshole.”

“Okay,” whistles Daniel, his hand unconsciously coming up to make sure Lia doesn’t fall off his shoulder. “But hey, you’re just about to submit this paper and I’m fondly remembering all the times you despised each other. And when you”—he points at you, devilish grin on his face—“started gushing to Lia about how he”—he then turns to Mark—“kissed you at Johnny’s party.”

“God, it’s not the time for that yet, we’re still a fresh couple,” you groan, burying your head in your hands. “You have so much dirt on me, Choi.” Mark just laughs, though, loudly, bringing the other cafe-goers’ attention to yours. He bites your shoulder to stifle it, eliciting a laugh from you. “I agree, there should be a certain time requirement for pre-relationship embarrassing stories,” Mark says, closing his laptop. Lia gets up at that point, already half-awake from the ruckus (AKA Mark’s laugh), pulling on Daniel’s sleeve. “Alright, and that’s my cue to get this girl some more coffee and then go.”

“Mm, I’ll come with,” you say, “I need a refresher before we leave soon, anyway.”

You walk in between them, your fingers laced in Lia’s as she squeezes them sleepily. They order first and then they’re off with a smile and a polite goodbye, leaving you to order your drink. You gaze up at the menu, and then down at—

“Long time no see,” Chan says with a knowing beam. “How is your not boyfriend boyfriend?”

“Well, he’s my boyfriend now.”

“See, I always know. What do you want?”

“An iced ca—how did you know?” You ask, tempted.

“It’s just…the energy? It was a hit or miss, but I kinda got that feeling that something was going to happen.”

“Hmm,” you hum. “An iced caramel then.”

“And a black coffee for her best friend!” Hollers a new voice that you could never miss, turning slowly towards the entrance to meet Donghyuck’s crazy eyes. He’s in a suit, which isn’t unusual given the sheer amount of presentations he’s had to do since the new year started. You roll your eyes but put in the extra cash anyway, much to Chan’s amusement. Hyuck nears you with a sly grin. “I hear you’ll be submitting your paper soon. I just want my name in there so I’m in your professor’s good graces.”

“She’s not even going to be your professor, Hyuck,” you say, taking your drink and smiling at Chan. You and Donghyuck both walk back to where Mark’s sitting, you beside him and Hyuck across the both of you. “Yes, but it pays to be in somebody’s good graces, I swear. See what happened? I got you two together. I orchestrated your entire love st—”

“Okay, now you’re just lying, Hyuck,” Mark says with a laugh, finishing up the first few paragraphs and closing his laptop. “We’re not even in love.” But his friend lets out a teasing smile, his eyes narrowed, and he gets up with a loud farewell and alibi about “being needed by my better friends.” You assume he’s talking about Jeno.

—

You walk to Mark’s room alongside him, thanks to the promise of his roommate, Jaemin, sleeping at a friend’s. Your fingers are intertwined loosely. The sun’s setting and Mark’s room is sheathed in beautiful shades of orange and pink, a vast array of dusk settling over the space. It happens quietly, but full of laughs, which is how it happens when you’re both tired and/or shitfaced. You do this a lot—a routine of sharing new songs or books you’d picked up over the week and then making out while they play in the background or while one of you read. It’s awfully, horribly, terribly fucking intimate. 

“Your bra sucks,” he jokes.

You love it.

“Get better abs and we can talk about it,” you counter, poking his toned stomach. He really, fully guffaws at that, pulling you onto his lap and then tugging his guitar out from where it stands at the corner. You flop back onto his bed, watching him play—and then registering the familiar opening of the Jonas Brothers song you used to request nearly everyday. “Lovebug,” you muse with a smile, singing along to his voice, carried away. You’re sleepy and light, and you know deep down—in that space of yourself where you’re all but honest—that you were going to fall in love with him someday.

Later, when all you’re doing is hugging him as he reads your latest Philosophy requirement to you, he pauses.

“Is this the 21st century idea of love?” He asks idly, unclasping your bra and connecting the moles on your shoulder. You hum. 

“It’s the Gen Z idea,” you say, connecting the ones on his bare back. “And this isn’t love.”

“Corny.” he smiles against your collarbones. You kiss his neck. It’s all very gradual.

—

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[neovisioned]

♡ꜜ profane﹫jaehyun jung

profane - ashe vernon

pairing : jaehyun x reader (f)

genre : smut with little plot, fallen angel!jaehyun, best friends to lovers. 

warnings : actual filth, dry humping, passionate eating out, penetration (unprotected, be safe), body worship, slight begging and corruption, overstimulation, jaehyun’s wings are sensitive, creampie. 

word count : 3k exactly.

synopsis : fallen angel Jaehyun confesses to the one who saved him the night he fell from heaven five years ago, he shows you exactly how much he meant his words when he called you holy or : “ God, if you’re out there, if you’re listening, he fucks like a seraphim,”

“The first time he calls you holy, you laugh it back so hard your sides hurt.”

Jaehyun never even tried to hide his awe for your beauty, since the day of his fall. From the night you found him in the middle of the street, right after a rainy summer day, he never did. You were in your last year of high school, a teenager finding a bloodied, half clothed man on the hard concrete. You thought you were hallucinating, victim of one big, elaborated prank. You remember observing him for minutes, until he turned his scared face towards the noise of your boots cracking a dead branch. Oh, his face. Even in pain, even crying from the damnation he just faced, he looked ethereal. Correction, he was ethereal. A fallen angel, lost in this cruel, cruel world. Bloodied wings, sculpted body draped with a white sheet, trembling chestnut eyes. Big, white wings wrapped around himself in an attempt to protect his remaining dignity. Your heart dropped when he planted his eyes in yours. Jaehyun wondered if you were an angel of death here to finish the job, he never knew they were this pretty. Jaehyun remembers asking himself if he felt right to another kind of heaven he didn’t know about when you walked carefully towards him, pale moonlight enlightening your worried features. The first human face he’d see and yet, he'd bet you were crafted in his late home.

“You’re divine.”, was the first thing the fallen angel had told you. Ah, how he managed to get you even more intrigued with three words. You recall him not backing away from you when you kneeled in front of the man, offering a hand. He looked the same age, a deer caught in the bright lights of a truck. You’d hate yourself for leaving him here.

The red tint on his soft feathers stay imprinted in your mind, even after five years.

You never thought you’d be one to take an angel under your wing. But here you were, helping the fallen learn about life on the blue planet, one he never thought he’d live on himself. After all, the brunette never even formed the idea before, being dropped out of heaven was never on option for God’s old favorite. Years, and Jaehyun never stopped being dazed by your features. You even wondered where he’d get his compliments, always sounding like an old poet gushing over his best muse. Lovely, charming, delightful, ravishing, gorgeous, heavenly, stunning, artistic, magnificent. The list goes on. You quickly wondered if he wasn’t going too far, if he wasn’t too attached after you saved him, mind twisted by an illusion he created for himself. He saw what you couldn’t see in you. Words you never heard any man call another woman before, they all have the same effect on you. The feeling of heat pooling to your cheeks gets too familiar when you’re with Jaehyun. It’s to a point where his name only manages to burn your skin. However, the day the now almost normal man calls you “holy”, you don’t know how to react. His head rests on your stomach, strong arms wrapped around your body. You remember how frail they looked the night you met him. No matter the time flying by, the people he met, the number throwing themselves at him, Jaehyun never stopped looking at you like you held stars in your irises. Puppy dog eyes for what you then think is just equal, a puppy love.   “You’re holy.”, he had breathed against your skin, a small smile blooming on his face at your reaction. The weight of his head on you makes it heard to laugh and hard to breath properly, your sides hurt as you giggle in an attempt to brush it off. Thankfully, Jaehyun’s used to your off reactions to his words. He might even like it a bit too much. Even, it takes years for you to understand that Jaehyun’s isn’t just victim of a dumb infatuation. He means every word he says, he knows more than anyone else the meaning behind them all. It’s quite ironic. You think Jaehyun’s the one who needs to open his eyes but, when you do, you understand something bigger. Jaehyun isn’t as innocent as you thought he was. The ability to hide his wings and your presence guiding him had him walking on his Earth like any other human being, slowly becoming like every other young man of his age.

“The second time, you moan gospel around his fingers between your teeth. He has always surprised you into surprising yourself.”

The second time he calls you “holy”, your reaction is much, much different from any other. The slight salty taste of his fingertips lingers on your tongue, pink muscle lazily lapping against his skin. The fallen angel has two digits resting there, thumb lovingly stroking the skin of your check. Coating them with saliva, the muscle drags between ever so slowly. Hungry eyes catch every one of your reactions, drinking in the smallest of sighs and broken bat of the eyelashes for memories to cherish. It seems every important turn in your relationship with the fallen angel happens in summer, he even told you about how it was his favorite out of the four seasons. An anniversary of your meeting with the brunette turns confession of shared feelings between an improvised meal. He grew. He grew so much all thanks to you and yet, there he is. Body towering over you, using his power against you, the dynamic shifted long ago. His hips fits perfectly between your thighs, the blue jeans he’s wearing aren’t doing anything to hide his hardening member, longing to be touched. You wonder where he learned all of this, when he learned all of this. His hips roll against your clothed core in the most heavily way, it’s slow and hard, intentions clear. “You’re holy, doll.”, Jaehyun breathes again, watching your cheek heat up, your eyes roll back. You never heard this voice before, it dips lower, stained by years of want. “Crafted by the highest.” You moan around his fingers, teeth grazing over the tender skin. Jaehyun was never afraid to push you out of your comfort zone, there he was doing it again. You never thought you’d let your beloved angel sin with your help.

“Because he’s an angel hiding his halo behind his back and nothing has ever felt so filthy as plucking the wings from his shoulders - undressing his softness one feather at a time.”

Oh, how well he hides his halo. There’s no light in his eyes, no light in his voice when he asks you to undress. You wonder if he still has some powers with how easily you bend to his order, underwear adoring your skin. His jeans follow close behind. He got bigger with years, stronger, confident. One thing he doesn’t get rid of, his wings. He could, he could hide them like he does every day now, but he know how much they affect you. You’ve told him many times, never ran more than a light and careful hands on the majestic wings. Pure, white feathers create the perfect cocoon between your tangled bodies like he wants you to himself and him only. You don’t think he ever lost one single feather, never losing their pristine with time.

His hips never stop rolling against yours, now fully hard cock rubbing against your damp underwear. His grey boxers aren’t doing anything to hide his member anymore, one that makes your mouth water, eyes blow in need. One hand travels from his arm to the soft feather of his wing, bold fingers softly gazing over the small spaces between his plumes.

The surprised moan that tumbles from his lips takes your breath away, such a simple gesture that makes him keen under your touch. “Fuck.”, how can a curse sound so pure ? His finger leave your mouth to grip the pillow right next to your head. “Do that again.”

“God, if you’re out there, if you’re listening, he fucks like a seraphim, and there’s no part of scripture that ever prepared you for his hands. Hand that map a communion in the cradle of your hips.”

“Shit, Jaehyun.” Nothing would have prepared you for the way his hips start moving to a faster pace. He has you moaning a bouquet of curses against his lips, hips bucking up against his. You know Jaehyun learns quickly, you see it when you tell him just how you like it and he obliges happily, hips rolling harder, and harder. The dark spot on his boxers’ a dead giveaway of your arousal building up, and up. His hands start wondering up your body, shamelessly sneaking under your bra. He maps your curves, learns by heart about the holy temple of your envelope. “Feels good ?” Another hand tightly grips your hip, fingers digging at your flesh, sure to leave small bruises there. He pushes your pelvis down against his mattress, until you aren’t able to create friction from your own. The fallen angel brings you to the border in minutes, he builds your orgasm up until you’re breathing against his bruised lips. He makes you jump with him and makes sure he has you all along, he holds you close when you ruin your underwear. Your orgasm blinds you for milliseconds, you probably moan too loudly for your neighbors but, right here and right now, it’s him. Jaehyun might come the very moment his name rolls out of your tongue, the prettiest prayer he ever had the chance to hear and, it was for him, him only.

“Hands that kiss hymns up your sides. He confesses how long he’s looked for a place to worship and, oh,”

“’ve been waiting for so long.”, the brunette confesses against the skin of your stomach. He places soft kisses there, like he wants you to see how much he worships your body. “Thought you’d never let me have a taste.”. There is the slightest bit of amusement in his voice when he kisses along the line of your ruined panties, a single digit teasingly running up and down your lips. He makes you shiver, sigh his name out and say his name in vain. You’d almost beg him to do it already, taste you already.

“Jaehyun, I-.”, you’d almost beg him, and oh.

Pink tongue boldly dips in your core, through the wet fabric. He hums at the slight taste of your arousal, like he cannot believe he’s finally there. His red lips form an -o where he knows your bud of never is, lightly sucking there. Where the fuck did he learn all of this. Oh, the sweet angel will be the death of you if you aren’t his.

“you put him on his knees. When he sinks to the floor and moans like he can’t help himself, you wonder if the other angels feel so sweet.”

Long gone are the years of blindness, years of pushing feelings away out of fear. A hand rests on his shoulder and you push him to his knees, he obliges easily under your touch. Knees to the floor, his knees hit the cold wood of his bedroom. Digits finally wrap around the fabric of your panties and finally. Finally, you reveal yourself to the fallen angel. Transparent fluid stick to your lips and the ruined piece of clothing, Jaehyun moans to himself like he’s been touched by grace.

Glittering eyes look up to you for reassurance and, when he has it, he doesn’t hesitate. Pushing your thighs apart, his eyes stay on your core like the finest of paintings, placing your legs on his strong shoulders. He waited and wanted too long to make the teasing last longer and, much like he did through the piece of fabric, his pink tongue drags up your slit. He collects every drop your give him in the dip of his muscle, he hums at the taste and goes for more. The tip digs between your lips and laps like he’s drinking the rarest of wines, like he’s drinking from the grail itself.

“Taste so fucking good.”, he hums to himself, lips shining with your own arousal. “Can’t get enough.”

You wonder if all angels are so good with their tongues, or maybe it’s the added effect Jaehyun has on you. He brings you to the clouds in what you feel like is seconds.

“He says his prayers between your thighs and you dig your heels into the base of his spine until he blushes the color of your filthy tongue. You will ruin him and he will thank you; he will say please.”

The words he mumbles against your core are foreign to you, your dazed, blurred mind doesn’t quite catch the meaning behind his sounds. However, his deep voice vibrates against your lips. It’s so much, too much. You’re almost too sensitive already from the first orgasm he got out of you. Your body reacts by itself when he lets his muscle explore between your lips a little more, a sigh tumbling from your lips. Your thighs close around his head until your heels dig between his wings, it makes the man moan and break away from your core. Your hand can only anchor itself between his brown locks, slightly tugging at his hair.

He’s breathless, a deep pink dust on his cheeks and chest alongside a thin sheet of sweat. Jaehyun looks so innocent and yet, so filthy, corrupted. When his lips methodically wraps around your button of nerves, you know you’re done for. “Jaehyun, Jae-. ‘m so close, gonna come.”, you warn, words turning incoherent at some point. Ah, Jaehyun loves the way your voice breaks for him, direct result of his actions. It fills his chest with pride and makes his wings bat the slightest bit around him.

“Please.”, he begs, and you have to look down at him to register the word. “Please Y/N, come on my tongue.”, he says again, fingers wrapping around your thighs. How can you say no to such plea ? Jaehyun might be the happiest fallen angel when he feels your thighs shaking around him, tightening around his head as you come for the second time that night. You might black out, the ringing in your ears doesn’t stop you from hearing the brunette’s greedy tongue lapping at your core, small kisses on your thighs. “Thank you.”

“No damnation ever looked as cozy as this, but you fit over his hips like they were made for you. You fit, you fit, you fit. On top of him, you are an ancient god that only he remembers and he offers up his skin. And you take it. Who knew sacrifice was so profane ?”

Fucked out, yet there’s no way you’re going to let Jaehyun like this. Your legs threaten to give out under your body when you sit on the fallen angel’s lap. Your abused core tightens around the head of his length, the slight pain of the stretch adds to the stained moan you let out against Jaehyun’s neck. He fits and he’s no one moaning about how you were made for him. Long gone are the pleas to make you come when he groans and growls about your tight cunt.

You take him, you take him entirely with a whine and fully sit on his thighs. You don’t think you ever felt so full in your entire life, you don’t think you ever felt this way before. His wings wrap around your bodies again, it seems like an old habit. He creates a world for you to rule in, he lets you take control and set the pace.

His moans are for your ears only when you finally start moving up, and down. Up, and down. Jaehyun’s arms wrap tightly around your waist, bringing your body impossibly close to his. His chest crashes against your own, lips bruising yours for the nth time that night. You fit, he won’t let you go. He fits, you grip around him. Jaehyun might just think you look like a goddess at this very moment, skin glowing under the light, wrapped around him, wrapped in him. He wonders if you aren’t just that, a goddess erased from the books, a goddess too powerful and threatening. Jaehyun might just think you’re Lilith. His head rolls back against the headboard of his bed, he unknowingly presents the skin of his pale neck and you take it. You take him, you mark him as yours. Red and purple petals bloom on his chest, marks he'd proudly parade.

“And once you’ve taught him how to hold your throat in one hand and your heart in the other, you will have forgotten every other word, except his name.”

The way his pupils grow wider the moment you bring his hand to your throat is almost comical. You teach him how to use his fingers and press on your neck, cut your breathing just the right way. Just enough to have you desperately clenching around his cock.

“I love you.”, you finally confess to him that night, words he thought he’d never hear at some point. There, the fallen angel has you in the palm of his hand, heartbeat pumping against his fingertips. There, Jaehyun gets his revenge on heaven. When he starts fucking up, sending your body crashing against his own, limp, he might fuck you even harder then. There, in the dead of the night, years after meeting him on the dot, his name is the only thing tumbling from his lips. Oh, what a pleasure to bring a goddess to this state, fucked out and babbling, shamelessly letting herself being used and filled. The fallen angel never thought he’d feed off someone’s tears but, when he hears you cry out for the third time that night, tear rolling down his neck, he comes.

© NEOVISIONED l NO REPOSTING OR TRANSLATIONS ALLOWED.

#neowritingsnet #NCT-WRITERS #neovisioned #jaehyun smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #yuta #jungwoo #sicheng #doyoung #taeyong #mark #taeil #haechan #johnny #smut #fallen angel!au

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 8

Cult girl and Hannibal go through an exhaustive list of potential adoptive couples. 

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warning: sexual harassment, christianity, discussion of pregnancy and family planning, adoption, murder and cannibalism 

Step two: find an adoptive family.

Some would say your list of expectations for potential adoptive parents was too extensive. Impossible for any human to reach. But it was really just the bare minimum.

Regardless of if they were two men, two women, one of each, or a few people, the parents had to be trustworthy. It wasn't easy to earn Hannibal's trust, but he could recognize those who had the capacity to right away. It was a little instinct you had dubbed 'friend or food'.

On paper, the apostolic pastor and his wife of 19 years seemed like the perfect candidates. The adoption agency tried to push them on you, as they had a great track record with adopting from them prior. Three boys, all of which were honors students.

Hannibal insisted on a formal introduction, during which you could conduct a proper, though surreptitious, interview. It was an invitation to dinner.

He invited the couple into his office, where a pot of tea and an interrogation was waiting for them. Then there was you. Barely-pregnant little [F/N], feeling entirely safe so long as your fiancé was beside you.

"You're doing the right thing, y'know." The woman, who introduced herself as Mrs. Landon, said upon meeting you.

"How do you mean?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"All god's life is precious." She said, placing a hand on your not-even-remotely-showing-yet stomach. "You're walking in obedience to the lord by giving this child a shot at life."

Strike one: bringing up religion unprompted. Strike two: touching me without asking first.

You wanted to swat her hand away, but remembered that patience was a virtue. She and her husband took a seat across from you.

"Y'know," The man began, his mannerisms eerily similar to those of his wife. "I don't usually begin with the god talk, but I think a higher power had to have been involved in the conception of this- well, our child. I'd like to think the good lord brought us together today."

Strike three: already believes he is entitled to my child. You're outta here.

"Don't flatter the adoption agency like that, Jacob." Hannibal chuckled, placing his teacup on the side table.

"I'm serious, Dr. Lecter." Jacob interjected. "Faith and I really do believe that god put us on this earth to prepare his smallest soldiers for the spiritual war."

You shot Hannibal a side glance that said 'can we please just eat them now?'.

The answer was no. Hannibal liked to play with his food.

"And your adult children have all moved out?" He asked.

"That's right." Jacob nodded. "We have plenty of room in our five-bedroom house for the new little slugger to run around in."

"And if it's a girl!" The wife interrupted. "We have enough closet space for all the denim maxi-skirts money could buy."

Strike four: arbitrarily genders the behavior of a nine-week-old embryo.

The man then returned the teacup to the table, not bothering to use the saucer and instead leaving a nasty ring of condensation on the polished mahogany.

"Okay." Hannibal huffed, resignedly rising from his seat. He pulled two hypodermic needles from his back pocket and carefully, subtly stuck them onto the couples' necks. They couldn't even scream.

The tacos al pastor that followed (after a few days of marinating, of course) were exquisite.

The next week brought a new couple to your doorstep. Frank and Angela, they were named. Their claim to fame was that their oldest son played football for one of those big southern party schools. Either Auburn or Alabama. There was hardly a difference.

You sat for what felt like hours listening to the man speak in unintelligible football babble, waiting for him to take a breath. Surprisingly, it was the mom who got him to finally shut up.

"Frank, please." She said with more frustration than this one situation even remotely warranted. Either she had enough intuition to know she was being tested, or she’d spent the last decade putting up with this. Possibly both. "You're boring our hosts to death."

"What? No way! She loves it!" Frank replied, then turned to you. Not to Hannibal, just you. “Aren’t you having a great time, sweetheart?” 

Strike one: takes advantage of the female socialization to be passive and polite, allowing himself to take up the most space.

You shook your head. “I hate football.” 

His wife looked quite pleased with herself. 

“Angie, I just wanted her to know what good breeding her son is going to have.” He said, without a lick of irony or self-awareness. He eyed you up and down and licked his lips. “And it is mutual, I see.” 

The room went quiet as everyone tried to determine whether he was serious or if it was just a fucked-up joke. The longer the silence lingered, the more you realized he wasn’t kidding. Angela looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“I don’t know what the agency told you, Mr. Wyatt,” Hannibal said, trying not to grit his teeth. “She isn’t a surrogate. She’s already pregnant.” 

Frank’s jaw hung dumbly open. “I thought you were looking for a sperm donor? I just-” 

“No.” You cut him off, raising your hand and covering your face. “I don’t want to know what you thought.” 

“Well, I would!” Angela interjected, righteous fury eclipsing what should have been crippling embarrassment. “What exactly did you think this was, Francis?” 

“The file said that he was over fifty, so I just assumed--” Frank rationalized, his voice far too loud for the room. “Y’know? That she wanted a baby that wouldn’t come out all funny-looking?” 

“You’re disgusting.” You blurted out. 

“Francis Howard Wyatt,” Angela scolded as if she were talking to her son. “You are forty-eight and the only increasing part of your body is your blood pressure. Why on Earth would any woman choose you over her smart, handsome doctor fiancé?”

This made Hannibal sit up a little straighter. He wanted Francis on the butcher’s block yesterday, but he momentarily considered letting Angela live. 

“They’re not married?” Frank whispered, or whatever the loud-aggressive-toxic-masculinity version of whispering was. He paused, as the dead hamster on the wheel powering his brain crept back to life. “That actually makes sense.” 

Angela loudly smacked her hand against her face. “Dr. Lecter, Ms. [L/N], I am so sorry.” 

“It’s quite alright, Mrs. Wyatt.” Hannibal stood up, readying the next batch of needles. “It just makes what I’m about to do easier.” 

It took quite a bit of restraint to not make their deaths hurt, but he made up for it when it came time to carve. He had fun running his fittingly small penis through a meat grinder. Not with any intent to cook it, though. Just because. 

Hannibal wanted to make Francis Wyatt into the least dignified meal imaginable. You quickly recalled going to a friend’s barbeque in Georgia and encountering a horrendously Southern delicacy known as Frito Pie. You proposed the idea to Hannibal, who, after reviling in abject horror at the notion of eating something out of a bag, agreed that it was the most fitting end. He could spare a few pounds of flesh to grind up and make into chili. 

The third week brought yet another couple. They seemed smart enough to realize your invitation wasn't the friendly olive branch the others had interpreted it as. Their healthy skepticism was refreshing, to say the least. Then, you met them: Max and Archie.

"You'll have to forgive my partner's paranoia." Max said upon entering the house. He tugged playfully at Archie's hand. "We watched Get Out recently, so an invitation to the suburbs sounded some alarms in his sleep-deprived brain."

"I love that movie." You chimed in. "It reminds me of my family."

"Oh no." Archie's eyes widened in only half-pretend fear. He shot an I-told-you-so look in his partner's direction. 

"But my favorite horror flick has to be Midsommar." You added. "My friends and I saw a midnight screening and we didn't sleep at all that night."

"But have you seen Hereditary?" Archie posited.

"Of course." You shrugged. "Aster is totally genius."

You made more than just polite conversation with the couple. Max, despite his young age, was a skilled data analyst and day trader. He attributed his success to the hard work of his immigrant parents. Archie was an environmental lawyer and land activist. He was also a bit of a thrill junkie, indulging in everything from scary movies to bungee jumping.

It didn't take long to realize that you wouldn't be eating them. They were far too pleasant of company to eat.

"So when is this baby planning to make its entrance?" Archie asked, gesturing to you. "You don’t look all that pregnant to me."

You put your hand over your slightly-protruding stomach. "Late August, I believe. If everything goes according to plan."

"You're not far along at all, aren’t you?" Max observed. "That gives us plenty of time to prove ourselves to you."

"Believe me." You put up your hand. "You're doing a great job so far."

“If you like horror stories, we might have to indulge you in the last two encounters we had.” Hannibal commented, leaning back comfortably in his chair. That was a good sign. “No blood was spilled, thank god. Would have ruined my carpets. But believe me when I tell you it came very close.” 

The couple laughed along. Archie leaned in like he was about to tell a life-shattering secret. “You wouldn’t believe the hoops we had to jump through to even have the chance to adopt. And I don’t want to say that it’s because we’re an interracial gay couple, but...” 

“Agencies aren’t exactly colorblind.” You finished, via his prompting. 

“She gets it.” Archie pointed to you. “See, Maxie? She agrees with me.” 

Max pushed his glasses up his nose. “I never said I disagreed.” 

You spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for the conversation to take a sharp left turn off a cliff, but it didn’t happen. They were wonderful company; polite, intelligent and articulate. Exactly the kind of people you’d want to see taking care of your child. 

You’d have to look for you next meal elsewhere. 

#hannibal #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #hannibal lecter x you #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #cult girl #cult girl 2 #cult girl doctorate

[cocochannel00]

Only Wish (This Year)

All Y/n wants for Christmas this year was Harry to be home... so what happens when Harry can’t make it? (a part of the ‘Christmas song fic challenge’)

Word count: 3k Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

A/N: hello my loves! This is my submission for @goldenbluesuit​’s christmas fic challenge, Christmas is literally my favorite holiday of the year and I’m so happy I got a chance to do my first fic writing challenge based on the absolute bop that is Britney Spear’s “Only Wish (This Year)”. If you want to read more great Christmas fics by some amazing writers checkout the Christmas Song Masterlist Here and if you want to read and more of my writing check out My Masterlist Here. I hope you enjoy!! 

"Love I think the tree looks a little crooked"

"No, it's not! It looks fine," you grumbled as you tried to fluff one of the branches that was limping to the left a bit. You had just gone out with Anne yesterday to the Christmas tree farm to get it. The two of you spent nearly two hours walking around the field looking for the perfect tree to put in the living room and after your fingers and toes had officially gone completely numb the two of you gave up and settled for the lanky one in the corner of the field that no one wanted. The tree towered over you quite a bit and had a bit of a tilt, but it reminded you a bit of Harry and this Christmas that was what you wanted, him.

"The reindeer you just hung up is about to fall off, Love" he mumbled from the screen of your computer as he face-timed you from the studio in LA. Rushing over to the left side of the tree, you scooped up the ornament quickly just as it was beginning to slide off of the scrawny branch you had placed it on earlier. As you less than gracefully began to pick yourself off the ground, you heard a wolf whistle come from your husband.

"On second thought, if you keep bending down like that I think I might actually like this tree" Harry stated with a smirk as you gave him the middle finger. "Your mom and I picked it out yesterday cause we thought it looked like you. A little lanky, a little scrawny... looks like he just rolled out of bed" you replied with a laugh.

"I'm going to spare my ego and pretend you didn't just compare your beautiful, loving, and supportive husband to that sad drooping tree you have in the corner."

"(Y/n) is that Harry you're talking to in there? Tell him he better be making it home for Christmas Eve dinner or I'm going to be having a stern talking with Jeff" Anne shouted from the kitchen where she was finishing up some cookies for when Gemma and Michal' today.

You could see the color drain from Harry's face as he scratched the back of his neck. You and Harry have been married now for a little over a year but had been dating for well over three, so you know his every tick and giveaway and when Harry begins to scratch and rub at the back of his neck you know it's bad news.

"I've got this really good chorus started with Mitch, but were still trying to figure out whether-"

"Harry"

"We spent all of yesterday  working through the tracklist and I think I've narrowed it down to-"

"Harry"

"I think I'm going to end the album with the song I wrote on our honeymoon. I tweaked the melody but it's still-"

"Harry" you whispered for the last time before he finally stopped his rambling. You could see him by the way he was avoiding your stare that he didn't want to say the words you both were dreading. He isn't coming home for Christmas. You both knew it was a possibility when he flew out to LA nearly five weeks ago to finish the album before the new year. Despite Harry's offer of having you come to LA with him, your job didn't allow you the luxury of taking off that much time especially during one of your busiest times of the year. You had held out hope that Kid Harpoon and Harry could tie up all of the loose ends ahead of time, but clearly, that wasn't going to happen.

"I tried baby, I really did. There are just too many little things that need to get done here. I promise I'll try and make it back next week, we can have our own little Christmas together in London" he stated trying the lighten his crushing words. This was supposed to be your first Christmas as a married couple together so to say you were disappointed would be an understatement, but you knew that if you let Harry know he would be on the first flight out to London.

"It's ok, we both knew this could happen. I'm sure Anne and I will spend way too much time fussing over Adelaide to even notice you're not here" you replied back trying to lighten the mood a bit more by mentioning Gemma's adorable two-year-old daughter.

"Stop rubbing it in" he joked as Jeff called his name in the background. "I need to get back in before they all have my head for keeping them here past midnight again. I'll try and sneak another call later tonight if you're still up"

"So good, H. I love you"

"I love you too, (Y/n). See you soon" Harry replied back as he hung up. You closed your laptop and continued your quest to finish decorating your slightly distorted Christmas tree. Securing the lights onto the tree had somehow become the hardest part of decorating the tree, so while you were wrapped in a mess of bulbs and strings you didn't even notice Anne come in with two cups of hot chocolate.

"Oh dear let me give you a hand" Anne muttered as she placed the mugs on the coffee table before rushing to your side, delicately untangling you from the lights while placing each string perfectly in its place. You gave her a quick thanks before you walked over to the couch to admire your work.

"He texted me to check up on you, that crazy son of mine. Swear I love him, but sometimes he's got just no sense of priorities. Leaving his wife all alone for the holidays, just not right" Anne said as she passed you a mug and sat down next to you.

"I appreciate you belittling your son on my behave, but reset assured that I am ok. I'm sad we won't be able to spend our first Christmas together as a married couple, but I'm sure we'll have our own little Christmas once he gets back. Besides, I still get the full week off of work and I get to spend time with you and baby Adelaide for the next couple of days and it will be great!"

"Well if you ever need me to put him in his place you let me know, ok sweetheart? Can't have my favorite daughter-in-law feeling upset" she said as she wrapped her arms around you.

"Thanks, Anne" you replied as you gave her a tight squeeze, placing a kiss on her cheek.

"Anytime dear. Now quick, turn on channel Hollywood Gossip before Gemma shows up,  she never lets me watch this show. I heard Lily James was spotted with an ex-boyfriend again"

The two of you spend the next hour catching up on some gossip and making lists of everything that still needed to be done before Christmas in two days. If there was one thing you were certain about, it was that you were going to make the most of your situation and try and have the best Christmas possible

**********

It was Christmas eve and you had spent the entire morning cooking and prepping for the large family meal you and Anne were hosting for Gemma and Michal and a couple of close friends. The two of you had been absolutely buzzing and Christmas tunes had been playing throughout the house since you both woke up bright and earlier at 7 am. You had scoured your suitcase for the perfect Christmas outfit but after spending 20 minutes trying on outfits in the and had settled for one of Harry's red cardigans and some dark washed jeans. The smell of the vanilla candle that smelt just like Harry that Anne had left in your room last night made you miss him even more as you finished getting yourself ready just in time to hear the doorbell ring downstairs.

You peeked out the window and saw Gemma and Michal standing at the door with little Adelaide at their feet and quickly ran to the door to greet them. Once you opened the front door a pair of small arms wrapped themselves around your legs as Adalaide screamed your name.

"Well hello, my sweet girl. I missed you so much! Did you miss me?" you asked as she nodded quickly. You picked her up carefully and smothered her face in kisses just as Anne came over to greet everyone.  The five of you made your way out of the foyer and into the kitchen as Gemma wrapped her arms tightly around you and dragged you to the far end of the kitchen.

"Good afternoon my favorite sister. How is the married life treating you? Any surprises I should be worried about this Christmas?" she asked as she stole a Christmas cookie off of one of Anne's various dessert displays.

"It's been very nice, thank you. I don't think you'll be having any surprises from me this Christmas"

"Pitty I was hoping they be able to be in the same class as their cousin could go to school together," she said nonchalantly smirking at you as you stood there confused.

'What do you mean cousins? Adelaide already in day-care and I don't-- Oh my gosh Gemma are you -"

"Shh don't say it out loud, but yes. About eight weeks along, but we haven't told anyone yet. I'm telling you because last time I told you everything went well, so I think you're my good luck charm... and I need you to drink all of the shots Chloe tries to feed me tonight" She mumbled as you laugh and give her a big hug.

"Well congratulations Gem, I wish you both the best. Hey Adelaide, did you know what special person is going to be joining you really soon?" you asked the little girl in your arms as she played with the butterfly necklace Harry had gotten you for your second anniversary together.

"Santa"

"You're right baby Santa is coming tonight. Why don't you help me and Nana Anne finish decorating these last cookies before everyone gets here"

**********

The night was fantastic. After all of the guests had arrived, you all sat down to eat the wonderful roast Anne had been making all day. The room was filled with laughter and smiles as people recounted their most embarrassing Christmas stories. Your favorite was Michal's who as a child got so excited about seeing Santa at the mall that he actually peed on Santa's lap while telling him what he wanted for Christmas. Gemma discreetly slid her shot glass to you numerous times throughout the night and despite the questioning looks coming from Chloe, no one questioned Gemma's excuse of being the designated driver this year. Overall it was by far one of your favorite holiday meals to be a part of, you only wish Harry could have been there to share it with you.

"Me pants are about to explode, but does anyone fancy a little Christmas Eve stroll outside?" Michal asked as he cuddled a sleeping Adelaide to his chest.

There was a chorus of agreements and your large group slowly began to clean up their placemats and prepare themselves for the trek out in the snow. You helped Gemma load the dishwasher as Anne distributed Tupperware for everyone to take leftovers home with them before running upstairs to grab your winter jacket and boots. After everyone was all bundled up, you all headed outside into the snow, Gemma, and Michal leading the way as walked along the sidewalk. You watched the way Gemma placed a snowflake on Adelaide's nose and waited for the little girl to giggle before quickly wiping it off just to do it all over again. You continued to watch the interaction with a yearning in your heart at the thought of having your own kids with Harry and being able to take them on walks and show them ordinary things like snowflakes. Just as you had begun to drift off into your subconscious world Anne came up next to you and wrapped her arms with yours.

"That will be you someday, I can just feel it" Anne stated as she squeezed your hand tight. You gave her a small smile and nodded your head.

"I hope so. Just have to get your son to stay in one spot long enough" you joked as you rubbed your hands together for warmth.

"That man worships the grown you walk on, Love. If you tell him you want kids right now he'll drop everything"

"Hopefully when I get him back next week we can talk about it all a bit more" you replied as Anne nodded her head.

Your walk lasted about a half-hour until Adelaide began to cry saying she was tired and wanted to go to bed. You all preceded to head back into Anne's home for a bit to warm up before everyone would drive back to their respective homes to continue to celebrate their Christmases. Being the busy body that you were, you began to make tea for everyone in the hope of avoiding the dreaded interrogation about Harry and your's relationship that always came towards the end of these gatherings, but it never came. You think Anne must have warned them that you were feeling somewhat sad about Harry not being there because they managed to avoid the topic throughout the rest of the night. Just as the clock struck midnight everyone slowly began to say their goodbyes and exchanging any last-minute gifts that needed to be given. You helped Anne gather everyone's things and waved your last goodbyes before heading into the living room to relax a bit.

"I'm a bit wiped out dear so I think I'm going to head to bed early. Will you be ok here by yourself?" Anne asked cautiously as you scrolled through some pictures Harry had sent you the other day of him at the studio.

"Yes, I think I'll be ok. Have a good night Anne and thank you for a wonderful Christmas"

"No thanks needed dear, you're family now and always will be. I'll see you in the morning".

You waved a quick goodbye as Anne left upstairs to her room. The silence downstairs was only making your feelings of missing Harry worse so you decided to put on the TV and watch a Christmas movie to lift your spirits a bit as you cuddled Harry's picture to your chest. You know he was having Christmas Eve dinner with Jeff's family now and you didn't want to bother him so you decided that you would suck it up and wait until tomorrow to call him and tell him how much you really miss him. All you wanted this Christmas was to have him sitting next to you, sipping on a couple of hot chocolate and making fun of your weirdly patterned socks.

You hoped that flipping through the tv channels would help distract you but the minute you started channel surfing and Love Actually popped up on the screen in front of you, the waterworks began. You cried because you missed Harry. You cried because you didn't get to share all of your happy memories of today with him. You cried because you could cuddle him to sleep and wake up to his delicious scent. There you sat in his childhood home wrapped in a fuzzy blanket crying. You sobbed into the blanket as quietly as you could in the hopes of not waking up Anne and after what felt like an eternity, you finally fell asleep on the couch

*********

You were peacefully asleep on the couch until the sound of music blasting from the kitchen speaker startled you awake. 

“I signed my letter that I sealed with a kiss I sent it off, and just said this...”

"Oh, fucking shit. Stupid fucking Tom calling me at..." you heard as a crash came from the kitchen.

You jumped from your curled up position on the couch and turned around to see where the noise was coming from. As you sank deeper into the couch hoping not to be seen, you saw a silhouette moving around the kitchen searching the drawers. Your pulse began to race as you start to run all of the potential ways in which this intruder could kill you right now. Just as you were about to reach for your phone to call 999, the intruder turned on the light and you saw a familiar head of curly hair.

"Jesus fucking christ Harry nearly gave me a heart attack" you stated as Harry nearly jumped out of his skin.

The two of you stared at each other for a while before you finally processed what was going on. Harry was here. Harry had made it. He was here for Christmas. He came. You all but sprinted off of the couch and launched yourself at him, hearing release gasp as you latched on to his body like a koala.

"Nearly gave me a heart attack there, love" he stated as he wrapped his arms around you and ran his hands through your hair.

"I could say the same thing. Who comes home after midnight and doesn't say anything, especially when said person said many times that they weren't going to be to make it home"

"Wasn't supposed to be home but then mom said you looked upset after our call yesterday so I told Jeff I would finish the rest in the London studio and zoom call any last-minute details. Excited to have me home?" he asked with a smirk.

"No" you stated trying to hide your excitement.

"Come on Love, don't lie to me. I'm excited to be home. Get to spend Christmas with my beautiful, smart, kind, amazing wife.  Get to shower her with gifts. Best Christmas ever"

"Definitely best Christmas ever" you mumbled back as you leaned in and kissed him, savoring the taste of his lips after so long.

"I have one more surprise for you that I think you'll like" he stated as he broke away from the kiss.

"What" you whined as he laughed at you.

"Told Columbia that I'd make the record, but that I'm not releasing it till the end of next year. Want to settle down a bit more, gain more stability in case..." he trailed off as he cheeks turned pink.

"In case what?" you asked innocently even though you knew exactly what he was insinuating.

"In case you want to try for a baby like we talked about on our honeymoon. Said you wanted more stability from me before we started trying so this me giving you that. Don't want to pressure you or anything and this is your choice and I don't- "

"Yes," you whispered.

"Yes?" he questioned before you nodded your head and wrapped your arms around his neck.

Tears appeared in his eyes as he spun you around the kitchen. You laughed as he chanted "baby baby baby" quietly as to not wake Anne but the joy in his expression spoke volumes. You were both ready for this next chapter in your life and whatever happens next, as long as you were together, you knew everything would be ok.

“Hey babe” you whispered as Harry continued to cheer quielty. 

“Yes, Love?”

“Is Britney Spears your ringtone?”

“Maybe... It’s festive!” he defended as you laughed

“Ok love, whatever you say” 

Hope you all enjoyed and happy early Christmas to all who celebrate and a Happy Holidays everyone!!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles masterlist #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #Christmas #harry styles x fluff

[symphonicmetal101]

Citizens of the Devildom HCs

Ok, so this isn't my normal kind of post, this is kind of a world building thing, but I think its kinda cool and is the only thing I have motivation to write- so hopefully y'all like this, I have a part two brewing in my head, and it might actually get typed out-

Anyways, I think its about time we delve into what the "citizens of the Devildom" entails-

Firstly, I believe they would be split into three main categories-

Spirit

Humanoid

Monster/non-humanoid

Below the cut is me breaking each category down farther and a bunch of stuff I came up with, hcs of how I think this works- enjoy!

Spirits

- Wisps- these are fragmented bits of souls, usually of lower ranking beings, or cursed beings. Some have enough consciousness to lead people wayward in their travels through the woods or into the outer rings of hell, thanks to legends and myths leading people to believe that they would lead them to knowledge or fortune.

- Ghosts- these guys gain more power the longer they remain this way, however they also have a closer connection with their body the more recently theyve passed. This means returning their soul to their body only works if they were an extremely powerful being, or if there happens to be an extremely powerful being nearby to assist- they go through different stages once their connection with their body is completely severed, which can vary depending on how willing they were to pass.**** Stage 1, they cannot interact in any way with the living. Stage 2, only necromancers and those who actively seek them out can interact with them for short, unsteady chunks of time. (This is like..the absolute last chance they have to maybe return to their body.) They can move small objects, like keys or figurines, but it can be exhausting. Stage 3, they can interact with more living world things, and mess with animals a bit. Stage 4, they can show themselves to the living for short amounts of time if they wish to, or remain invisible. They can possess objects. Stage 5, they can switch between being seen or not, as well as now curse objects if they were a magic weilder before they died. Stage 6, They have full control of their powers, and can possess humans. As their power grows, they will be able to possess more powerful beings, the hardest to do being an angel.

Ghosts only exist because they

1. Dont realize theyve passed on

2. Have unfinished business, and have a need/want to finish it on their own, or they have someone they need to communicate with.

3. They want to be a ghost-

**** in some cases, a ghost is aware they have passed on, but refuses to accept it. They do not meet any of the three things listed above- these ghosts are still grow in power, but are extremely unstable and unsafe for others in the Devildom, not to mention humans. They are exiled to the outer rings of hell until they change, or in rare cases, make it to the human realm.

- Shadow People- they don't quite fit anywhere else- these are often confused for stage 4 ghosts, however they are different. They flow freely between the human realm and the Devildom. They fade into the shadows, and follow people. As they grow more powerful, they can manipulate other shadows of objects. They cannot speak, but between shadow people, they can communicate through touch, but to other people, there is perhaps a type of energy they feel, but they cannot touch or speak. There are very very few shadow people that can materalize into something physical, though when they can, they can be extremely dangerous, or completely harmless and just curious- best to just not piss any of them off.

Humanoid

- Vampires- Canonically, dont think these guys exist if they had an event about it, but whatever. These have your typical vampiric powers, which I'll sum up with shape-shifting, heightened senses, hypnosis, super strength/speed, immortality, and of course though not designated as a "power", fangs. Their diet in the Devildom are compareable to human diets, blood being more of a dessert food, and when eaten/drunk, usually from a common Devildom livestock animal.

- Succubi/Incubi- again, same sort of thing as vampires- ya know the powers they got, I wont get into it if you dont, bc this is not the right kinda blog to go into that.😂

- Witches/Warlocks

ok so heres where we break this down again.

First there are witch-born and witch-learned folks, witch-born being exponentially more powerful than those who just learn witchcraft, though anybody can.

After that we have Elemental, Potion and Spell-based, Healing, Sin-Directed, and Great Witches, which know a fair amount of each magic type, and have mastered two types.

Elemental witches, as the name suggests, study the elements and usually try to specialize in one element, and then branch out. The four basic elements, (air, fire, water, earth), are gateways into learning other kinds of magic, such as earth- metal, or air- poison, etc.

Potion and Spell-Based witches, again, the name suggests, create potions and spells. Many witches do these as a source of income. This kind of ties into Sin-Directed witches, who usually find one of the sins most appealing, then focus their magic and learning to create spells/potions that relate to that sin, however Sin-Directed witches are usually the offspring of a demon and a witch and can usual make people feel a bit o the sin they study just by touching them.

So if there is a Sloth witch, their potions and spells relate to a full nights rest, to relaxation, etc.

Healing witches are on the brink of Devildoms society, almost outcasts as their magic is one learned from angels, but takes the most control and power, thus are respected nonetheless. Do I have a potential Romeo and Juliet story to go with this? Possibly

Demons

- Ok, again gotta split this up into

Demon born vs Fallen angel

As well as Elemental vs Sin

Demon born- they are inherently more aggressive. Early years are a pain....young demons likely being the most difficult children in devildom to raise.

Fallen angel- depends whether they wantwd to fall or not this isnt important rn-

Sin demons- the result of either accidental offspring from the brothers, or years of dedicated servuce to any one brother allowing their sin to slowly corrupt and invade the family line.

Elemental demons- like elemental witches.

Included under the humanoid category would be other beings like merfolk, as well as necromancers.

Demons are also ranked from nobility down to imps.

Monster

There are way too many to get into for this, but there is no way everyone is humanoid in the Devildom- thus allowing hell to be a home for goblins, trolls, gorgons, monsters without names, SCPs/other cryptids- literally, everything. If yall want me to get more into it, then let me know- I think I might be able too-

#obey me #obey me shall we date #v talks #obey me! #obey me thoughts #obey me hcs #obey me headcanons #we shall see if this motivation can be carried over to do othwr stuff

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Subtitles: Episode 2, Don’t Touch That Dial

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: A nondescript amount of time has passed since [Y/N] has met the Maximoff couple and the trio has since then gotten better settled in Westview, although none of them have yet to make the best impressions with their neighbors. [Y/N], Vision, and Wanda have found friends and confidants in each other when they haven’t much elsewhere but [Y/N]’s crush remains, begging the question, ‘Is there anything more to come?’ Meanwhile, the people of the cul-de-sac are planning a talent show and the atmosphere in Westview appears to be shifting. Follow along as the happy little world of Westview begins fraying at the seams while strange happenings occur and an unseen power desperately seeks to stitch it back together…

Word count: 13,766

Warnings: This one’s even longer. Fluff, sappy rom-com vibes, more possible second-hand embarrassment. It’s just as weird as the episode.

Tag List: @madamevirgo​

~~~

    “[Y/N], hon. I really think you should cool it on the coffee for the rest of the day.”

    It’s possible that Agnes was right. The tiredness that was caused by a windy, sleepless night has recently been replaced by chaotic, synthetic energy that had your eyes wide and hands shaking slightly. You were on your fourth cup now, which you’d brought with you from the diner you and Agnes had had breakfast at. The two of you were going to pick up Wanda and go over to Dottie’s for actual breakfast—well, brunch—but you both had rocky relationships with the queen of the neighborhood and needed to mentally prepare. You had been up for a better part of the last night due to bushes and tree branches rattling against your windows, not to mention all your previous encounters with Dottie have been disastrous; you needed the caffeinated courage. Agnes just wanted to have something on her stomach beforehand so the alcohol hidden away in her handbag would sit better.

    You hummed around your mouthful of coffee in response to Agnes’s mild worrying. You swallowed, then threw back the last of the no longer hot beverage and scurried over to a random trash can to toss the cup away. “There, see? All done. All nifty.” Just as an extra bit of proof, you gave her some jazz hands and shimmied as you walked back over to link your arm with hers.

    Agnes tried to hold down a smirk but broke into a laugh when the shimmying started. “You look as jittery as a squirrel.”

    “Not as fluffy as a bunny?” you asked with a wide-eyed pout, then reached over to poke a finger in the cage that your companion held; the rabbit inside, Agnes’s pet, immediately offered his head to be scratched. “Señor Scratchy, more like Mr. Cutie Patootie.”

    “Fluffy too, of course,” Agnes offered, giving your curled updo a ruffle. “In a good mood too, which I suppose isn’t a bad thing. With Dottie around, we’ll need it.”

    You almost cracked a grin but then thought about how you’d feel hearing someone say that about you and felt somewhat sad. Luckily, you found a quick reason to grin anyway as Wanda’s house came into view up ahead—

    Only for the grin to turn into a look of confusion as a buzzing suddenly started in your ear.

    You stopped cold, cocking your head as you strained to listen. The buzzing sounded almost like a lawnmower but coming from the sky—a helicopter, perhaps, but there was something off about it like it was happening inside your head—and the sound grew louder until it stopped with a sudden bang, making you jump.

    “[Y/N]?” Agnes’s voice called. “[Y/N], are you alright?”

    Drawn back to your surroundings, you felt a cold sweat on your back and noticed your hands had become clammy; the hair on your neck and arms stood straight up and your body felt suddenly achy, almost have you had come down with a cold out of the blue. You looked at Agnes with wide eyes and saw her staring at you, concerned with both arms gripping your sleeve.

    It took you several moments to recover and when you did, you asked, “Did you hear that?”

    Agnes looked at you incredulously, shaking her head just slightly. “Hear what?” 

    She hadn’t heard it? You felt like the strange sounds had happened right next to you.

    The woman at your side continued, “I didn’t hear anything at all, except for Wanda coming outside. Then you just stopped walking and stood there, I couldn’t even budge you.”

    Agnes nodded in the direction in Wanda’s direction and you looked that way. Wanda was indeed outside now, though she hadn’t seemed to notice you two coming up the sidewalk yet. Instead, she was looking down in the bushes near her fence, seemingly distressed. You followed her gaze and saw something glittering in the sunlight there.

    “Well,” Agnes said loudly, officially snapping you out of your daze, “you seem fine now, at least. I told you all that caffeine was going to make you go looney!” She picked up the rabbit cage she apparently put down while you were… doing whatever it had been that you were doing, then kept walking as if nothing had happened. 

    You watched her for a moment before following. Then you noticed Wanda lean over and pick up whatever it was she was looking at but you couldn’t see what it was as Agnes obscured most of the view. You could, however, see Wanda’s distraught expression and it made you want to run and make sure she was okay; you noted that Agnes still had no reaction, though, and decided perhaps all that caffeine was the actual cause of all these weird feelings. 

    You felt the familiar pang of a headache as you and Agnes got closer. 

    “Look, it’s the star of the show!” Agnes chirped, leaning against the fence bordering the Maximoff lawn. You saw Wanda gasp and drop the thing back into the bushes but Agnes just grinned.

    “Agnes!” Wanda replied in a way that seemed a little strained. She leaned over and covered the bush with an arm. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Then she noticed you, still a little ways behind Agnes, and the tension in her shoulders seemed to relax slightly. “And [Y/N]!”

    You gave her a sheepish wave, still trying to recollect yourself. The faint headache was still there, getting a bit stronger whenever your eyes or thoughts drifted to the object Wanda was obviously trying to hide. At least you weren’t sweaty and clammy anymore, though. Not that that would matter. It’s not like you would be holding anybody’s hand on the way to Dottie’s.

    You wouldn’t mind doing so if it happened to happen though.

    Stop, you chided yourself, Bad. No holding hands with Wanda.

    Unless you hold hands with both her and her husband, your brain decided to think on its own, which is totally cool too.

    No, you chided your brain this time, no holding hands with married couples.

    Fine, your brain conceded. Then after a moment, Just kiss them instead.

    No!

    Good god, that had been too much coffee. 

    You shook your head slightly and watched and Agnes handed Señor Scratchy over to Wanda who headed back to the house with him, though you hadn’t been paying attention to what they were saying prior.

    “...he played baby Jesus in last year’s Christmas pageant!” Agnes was saying, to which Wanda looked over her shoulder and answered, “Ah!”

    Then Agnes looked over her shoulder, and yours, and said, “Oh, morning, Dennis!”

    You side-stepped to let the man pass and took the advantage to move to Agnes’s other side as she chatted the mailman up. You couldn’t help laughing a bit as she made finger guns at him and told him to stick ‘em up.

    “Ho,” Dennis responded, putting his hands up momentarily and smiling, “Don’t shoot, I’m just the messenger.”

    “Pew pew!” Agnes sounded, waggling her “guns” at him.

    You offered your own, less theatrical greeting to Dennis as he walked by, then leaned over and bumped hips with Agnes when you caught her watching him walk away.

    “Please tell me you’re not having an affair with the mailman,” you said.

    Agnes choked, then threw back her head and did what you could only describe as a cackle. “What? Heavens no!”

    “Good,” you replied, then slid a bit closer. Shimmying your shoulders at her, you teased, “Because I’m the only one you need.”

    Agnes snorted and swatted you over the head but she was smiling. “You bird dog, get out of here. I’m married!”

    “And I will duel your husband at dawn,” you cried, “I am the only one who gets to fight bar stools for the lady’s affections!”

    The two of you chortled and separated as Wanda came walking out of the house and back towards you. She looked rather lovely in the pants and cardigan combo that she wore; you also quite liked the pattern of her shirt.

    She looked between the two of you—you felt like her eyes settled on you for just a second longer but that was probably the caffeine too—and as she got closer said, “Shall we?” 

    “Oh, we shall,” Agnes replied, stepping back from leaning on the fence and offering Wanda her arm.

    You saw Wanda glance back at the bushes and she linked her arm with Agnes’s and before you could think about your headache and stop yourself, you followed her gaze. You were now standing on the other side of the fence of the bushes that Wanda had tried to hide the object she’d found in and with a quick peer, you could make out a toy helicopter within the branches.

    There was something very off about the helicopter, as there had been about the sound earlier. Looking at it was like the effects of one of your worse migraines but without the intense pain. Time appeared to slow way down and your head somehow felt like it was both floating and behind crushed at the same time. When you tried to look around it was like you were moving outside of your body, as if you had turned around to look at your own house across the street and yet hadn’t moved at all. Images of Wanda and Agnes’s faces, the Maximoff house and your own, faces and places that you didn’t quite recognize, the helicopter all floated through your line of vision, mushing together or overlaying on top of each other, and you couldn’t be sure whether you were actually looking around or if you had closed your eyes and this was all happening behind your eyelids. 

After what seemed like a century but you were sure was only a very slow second, the helicopter came into focus again, and you felt like you were gasping or squinting or both, but without actually doing either. The toy had a very bizarre color scheme as if the colors didn’t exist in this realm of existence; you couldn’t quite place the names of them no matter how hard you tried. The helicopter’s bright colors—almost too bright to you; it felt like looking at the sun but you couldn’t look away—appeared to turn the entire world around you to shades of gray, including yourself. Yet again, you felt like you moved without actually doing so as you raised your hand, a shade of gray instead of your skin tone. Looking further, your entire outfit wasn’t the combination of your two favorite colors that you thought it was but a variety of grays, as well as the sidewalk you stood on and the fence and bushes you stood next to. 

Your gaze settled on the toy helicopter again even though you were pretty sure you’d never actually looked away.

Blood? The helicopter was the color of blood and sand, with a touch of the color you suddenly hated with every fiber of your being, shimmery gray. 

Then there was a sound like a thunderclap happening directly inside your head and everything was back to normal.

Wanda has just finished linking arms with Agnes and the girls were stepping to one side so you could join their line. Looking at Wanda’s smile directed at Agnes, and Agnes’s scheming look directed at you, the world didn’t seem so out of sorts anymore. You felt both very solid and like you needed to steady yourself but you didn’t have time for the latter and instead, you stepped forward, seeming much more confident than you felt, to link arms with Agnes. 

Agnes, with her scheming look, clearly had other ideas. She suddenly stepped off the curb, jerking herself and Wanda to the side, not only blocking the way you were walking but pulling Wanda directly in front of you. Agnes herself settled easily but Wanda, who had no idea what just happened, stumbled and tripped; she tried to catch herself on Agnes’s arm she held, only to find it was no longer there and ended up falling backward.

Your arms shot out reflexively and caught her around the waist. Wanda, in response, reached behind her and braced herself by throwing one arm around your shoulders while the other caught one of your wrists and twisting in such a way that caused her to turn towards you and kick one leg up so she could steady herself on the other. The result was an almost picture-perfect dip, with you cradling Wanda’s upper body in your arms, her embracing you, and the two of you staring at each other in pure shock. 

Then there was Agnes, standing next to the curb and brushing out a crease in her dress, looking oh so pleased with herself.

A deep blush bloomed across your face as you looked down at the woman—the very married and greatly loved by her husband woman—and your outsides and insides had the same idea of wanting to curl in on themselves and… either scream in joy or die, you couldn’t be sure. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of Wanda right away; along with the longing you often felt when seeing either her or her husband, though it was multiplied by infinity in the current moment, you felt a sudden fierce protectiveness over her come almost out of nowhere. You wanted Wanda Maximoff to be as happy and as safe as could be and it felt like if you let her go any moment before she was properly standing and solid on her feet that something very bad would happen like she would tip and fall and shatter into a million pieces.

Holding her was just very nice in general too.

You felt your fingers twitch at her waist and it drew you back out of your head. You noticed Wanda hadn’t yet pulled away either or moved in general, and you felt like you were going to spontaneously combust when you focused back on the face looking up at you.

Although she couldn’t possibly as red as you were, Wanda was flushed from her neck to the tips of her ears—she had the prettiest blushing face you’d ever seen, you were sure of it—and she was looking up at you from under her lashes, the expression on her face a mix of surprise and embarrassment and something softer than you couldn’t quite place. You felt her arm, warm and strong against the back of your shoulders, and her hands still tightly gripping your shoulder and wrist. For a moment, you felt the hand on your shoulder lightly knead the fabric of your jacket, as if testing something, before her entire grip on you loosened.

“Um,” she started, her voice sounding as dry as your throat felt, “thank you. For catching me.”

“Happy to help,” you croaked, then mentally kicked yourself and cleared your throat; the slight smile that appeared on Wanda’s lips wasn’t lost on you, though.

    “Oh, lovebirds,” Agnes hollered over her shoulder as she walked ahead of you and Wanda, “the Queen of the Cul de Sac will order off with our heads if we don’t hurry!”

    I had no idea that the devil wears plaid, you thought. Then you weren’t how long you and Wanda had been standing like that, or who had seen, and you were panicking. 

    You thought that maybe the two of you might scramble away from each other but it was quite the opposite. Wanda lowered the leg she still had raised and in one fluid motion, Wanda was back standing upright; in another, you twirled her around to your side and linked arms with her, and then the two of you were hustling after Agnes, who stopped and waited with her arm out so that you could link up with her too.

    It was like something out of an old rom-com movie. Except it was a rom-com movie where the main character fancied both the love interest and her husband, something far too farfetched to end happily. 

    “Dottie can’t possibly be as bad as you say,” Wanda said. She looked from Agnes to you and you gave her a sympathetic look. 

    “Well, you’ll notice her roses bloom under penalty of death,” Agnes affirmed as the three of you made it to the outskirts of Queen Dottie’s castle and paused there. “If you don’t believe me, ask [Y/N].”

    Wanda’s eyebrows raised.

    You sighed. “The first day of meeting her I spilled wine on her dress and now I’m ninety percent sure that she thinks I want her dead. She also very much dislikes the idea of a lone stray cat living in her neighborhood.” You unlinked your arms with the ladies to gesture at yourself. “I was getting home late from work one night and she saw me, stepped outside to make sure I wasn’t going to dig through her trash bins.”

    “Oh,” Wanda said with a grimace, “goodness.”

    “I’m sure you’ll do fine, though,” you added quickly, “You’re lovely; I can’t imagine anyone not loving you.”

    Agnes rolled her eyes while you blushed and scratched your neck. You could already see her gearing up for a pre-Dottie tutoring session.

    And then she started with a look-over of Wanda’s outfit. “Wanda—”

    “Hm?”

    “—can I give you a bit of friendly advice?”     Wanda must have caught the look too because she glanced over her outfit, the outfit you quite liked. Raising a hand to her chest, she asked, “Is it about the way I’m dressed?”

    “Yes, but it’s too late for that.”

    You scowled as worry bloomed on Wanda’s face. Unfortunately, you yourself had to learn how important dress was at these social events. You’d expected it to be just a gathering of friendly neighbors but it’s much more like a secret society and you had to look just right to fit it. Now you regretted not telling her sooner; you’d failed your first and only attempt at making a good impression so were content wearing whatever you wanted for the most part but Wanda definitely deserve the poor treatment she was going to get. 

    “Dottie is the key to everything in this town,” Agnes continued, unphased. “Country club memberships.”

    Something you didn’t have.

    “Parties.”

    Something you didn’t go to.

    “School admissions.”

    Something you didn’t have to worry about any time soon but the way Agnes’s gaze drifted towards Wanda’s stomach made you wonder if the Maximoffs did. The thought made your stomach churn but you couldn’t figure out why.

    “Well let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Wanda interjected with a smile and roll of her eyes. She happened to look your way and you thought the smile softened with her gaze just a tad.

    You relaxed your shoulders.

    Agnes trudged on. “You get in with Dottie and it’ll be smooth sailing from here on out. Just mind your P’s and Q’s and you’re gonna do just fine.”

    “Or maybe I could just be myself, more or less.” 

    “I quite like that idea,” you offered. A wide-eyed glance from Agnes went unnoticed as you were too focused on the smile Wanda definitely gave you that time.

    “Oh, Wanda, [Y/N]” Agnes said with a laugh, “that’s good.”

    Wanda’s excitement for the event today seemed to lessen and you, apparently still high off the moment you thought you two had, gave her arm a gentle squeeze and an encouraging look. 

    She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she gave you an appreciative glance and pat on the hand. Your and her hands lingered for perhaps a second or two too long before they dropped back to your sides. 

    And then the queen and her merry homemakers sauntered their way out the front door.

    “Everybody, hurry up please!” Dottie sang over her shoulder as she quickly walked down the front steps, followed by a line of housewives carrying various covered dishes.

    Agnes twisted to look her way and waved. “Hiya, Dottie, your roses are divine!”

    Both you and Wanda offered a polite wave as Dottie thanked Agnes, although she didn’t stop to chat. Her eyes did do a scan of your trio, though, and you felt your ears burn when a distasteful look was sent your way. 

    Agnes gave you a sympathetic smile and Wanda a look that said “Good luck; you’ll need it!” before sliding her arms under one of each of Wanda’s and yours and tugging the two of you along.

    Your eyes wandered as one of the wives, Bev, talked animatedly about the setup for the talent show happening this weekend. Bored and feeling out of place, you looked over the group of women sitting a circle underneath the canopy tent by Dottie’s pool, purposely excluding Dottie and the woman talking, then the man jumping into said pool, then the man cleaning said pool. 

    You shouldn’t be here. This gathering really was a secret society of women of the neighborhood—not only women but wives in particular—to discuss homely and neighborhood business matters; you weren’t a wife and after screwing up with Dottie, you certainly weren’t involved in any of the other important business, nor did you have any interesting household gossip since you lived alone. The main you were here was because while out of place, you got along more decently with the wives than the husbands and when you’d first moved to town, Agnes thought you would be entertaining company to keep. She’d immediately hung you out to dry by telling her fellow women about you calling out their husbands’ poor attempts at comedy, which amused some of them enough to welcome you; in fact, Dottie had been one of those people, impressed by your initiative if nothing else, until you ruined your chances by ruining her dress. At the current meeting, you’d been specifically invited only because you were taking part in the talent show performance, which had also happened because Agnes heard you singing while doing garden work one day and somewhat strong-armed you in. 

    Your bored eyes eventually settled on watching Wanda, who sat a couple of chairs away on the other side of your mutual companion, and you were no longer bored. While you watched Wanda, she was watching Dottie like a hawk, awkwardly but cutely trying to mimic everything the other woman was doing. She stopped when Dottie started speaking, gripping the cup she was holding a lifeline and you chuckled moments before catty laughter erupted around you. You hadn’t heard what caused it, so you decided to tune back in.

    “The devil’s in the details, Bev,” Dottie criticized, masking disdain with the lightness of her voice. 

    You heard Agnes mutter to Wanda, “That’s not the only place he is.” You couldn’t help but snicker.

    Dottie was standing now and continued on, “As you all know, the talent show is the sole fundraiser for Westview Elementary…”

    Agnes passed a flask to Bev with a cheeky grin as she sat down next to you and after taking a sip, Bev offered it to you. You didn’t have to think twice before snagging a drink of your own and handing it back over to its home.

    “I hear you’re singing,” Bev chirped quietly to you, “For the talent show? I bet you’re a lovely singer, can’t wait to hear it.”

    You blushed slightly and thanked her but didn’t say much more to avoid Dottie’s wrath.

    The wrath that Wanda and her current companion, a woman with dark skin who looked oddly familiar but whose name you couldn’t place, weren’t able to avoid themselves, apparently. 

    “We only have a few hours until showtime,” Dottie said, “so a little less cross-chatter and a little more focus.” 

    As Dottie prattled on, you observed the two women curiously.

    “...is for the children,” Dottie finished.

    “For the children,” the other women echoed.

    “For the children,” Wanda added after everyone else had already spoken, earning several displeased looks.

    You didn’t bother to say anything, opting to take Agnes’s flask and have another sip.

    “So, I want you all to give yourselves a big hand—”

    Wanda, looking petrified, stopped in the middle of taking a bite of a cookie and started clapping. You hid your laugh behind a hand; she still had an entire cookie hanging from her mouth.

    “—at the appropriate time, of course,” Dottie chastised, then continued on yet again.

    Oh, darling Wanda, you thought with a grin, you poor, sweet thing, you. You rested your chin in your hand and watched as she made herself proper until Bev nudged you to take your elbow off the table. You huffed slightly but did so anyway, then tried to catch Wanda’s eye for a moment of solidarity, only to see her talking to the dark-skinned woman again. 

    Your gaze shifted from Wanda to the other woman and your brows furrowed. You swore you knew her from somewhere though try as you might, you just couldn’t place that face, those eyes, that awkward but friendly smile. Perhaps another newcomer to the area that you’ve seen t on the streets or at a shop? You couldn’t imagine where she moved into, though, as you were sure the last two open houses had been the ones occupied by you and Wanda and Vision.

    You felt a sharp pang in your temple and grunted softly. You weren’t about to have an episode here of all places, so you quickly looked away and put the thoughts aside.

    Just as Wanda and the stranger shook hands over their table. Uh-oh.

    “I’m Wanda.”

    “I’m, uh, Geraldine!”

    “And I’m irritated!”

    After getting scolded by Dottie a second time, Wanda locked her jaw and resigned to sitting in her seat with her hands tucked in her lap. She finally looked over at you with helplessness in her eyes.

    You responded with a mouthed “I told you so” and a wink, then silently told her that you’d talk to her after the meeting.

    A comforting face seemed to be what she needed because she relaxed again, though not completely. She settled in for the rest of the meeting and, finishing off Agnes’s flask, so did you.

    After the meeting was over, Dottie asked Wanda to sit back and help her clean up, which you knew meant Dottie doing nothing but being condescending while Wanda did all the work. While Agnes tried to get you to walk her home and then warned you against your plan, you were adamant about staying back and making sure Wanda got through the rest of her first Dottie encounter in one piece. At this point, you knew fitting in and having people’s positive opinions was important to Wanda; you oftentimes felt like that yourself. Unfortunately, Dottie wasn’t the type of person to give out positive opinions easily—you had to earn it, which was hard enough without accidentally interrupting the main meeting multiple times—and that protective feeling for Wanda that had come out of nowhere earlier today still hadn’t faded. You knew Wanda Maximoff of all people didn’t necessarily need you but you wanted to stick around, just in case she did.

    Maybe you were hoping that she would.

    That and you couldn’t help but take one last shot at getting on Dottie’s good side.

    “...and that is why you never do a seating chart on an empty stomach,” Dottie was finishing from her perch on the edge of a pool chair. 

    Wanda walked over to where you stood organizing a cart of dirty dishes so they didn’t all come tumbling down when whichever pretty busboy that Dottie paid finally came to take it away. She was huffing, carrying over yet another pile of dirty plates on a large tray; you skirted around the dish cart and quickly came to her aid, taking as much as your hands could carry from off the top. She offered a grateful smile that you returned before you both unloaded onto the cart.

    Who owned or even used this ungodly amount of dishes?

    A person who paid various pretty people to just be around, you concluded a moment later.

    As you continued to organize, Wanda turned back around to grab a pair of three-tiered dessert stands, both of which had a decent amount of desserts left on them. “Golly, you’re a wiz at all this committee stuff, Dottie. Thank you for choosing me to help you clean up today, I feel so lucky.”

    “You are,” Dottie agreed.

    Wanda turned back to you again and made a face, then stuck out her tongue. You choked down a laugh after catching Dottie’s steely gaze over Wanda’s shoulder, settling for a smile as you took the trays.

    Dottie was just as displeased as you’d expected she’d be that you insisted to stay behind and help.

    “I really should try to make amends before this is over, shouldn’t I?” Wanda muttered. She caught a few plates slipping from the top of a pile and rearranged them.

    “If you manage to do so, you really would be a Westview miracle,” you replied, taking a cup Wanda managed to catch before it tipped off the cart. “But first, how about I make you look ten times better, hm?”

    Wanda gave you a confused look but you just patted her hand before switching places with Wanda and going to grab another tray of dishes.

    You put on your friendliest smile as you began stacking as many cups as you could balance in one arm. “Say, Dottie—”

    “Be careful,” Dottie chimed back, “or at least let me get out of your way first. Wouldn’t want a repeat of our first meeting, hm?” She ended her sentence with a venom-laced laugh, then gave you a tight smile.

    You were pretty sure your eye twitched but you carried on, chuckling with her, “No, I suppose not. I really do apologize about that but you really shouldn’t hold such grudges. Worrying so much causes early-set wrinkles, you know.”

    Dottie’s smile tightened further. You heard Wanda gasp and choke from behind you.

    “Anyway, though, I really would like to make it up to you some time. My boss’s wife gave me two tickets to a food tasting event in town next weekend. I thought it might be something nice to do, plus it might give you some ideas for catering during the next event—”

    “My husband and I would love to go out next weekend, thank you so much. Feel free to drop the tickets in the mailbox the next time you come around.” Dottie paused, then added. “Mailbox, on the opposite side of the porch than the trash bins.”

    Your eye definitely twitched, maybe even both of them. You feigned an appreciative look as you finished stacking your dishes, then scowled as soon as you turned around and walked back to Wanda.

    “Now,” you grumbled, “I beg the sweet release of death to come in a more timely manner. Oh, and whatever you do can’t possibly be worse than me, although I’m sure that was the case either way.”

    “You poor thing.” Was all Wanda could manage, giving your arm a squeeze. “Guess it’s my turn.”

    “Good luck, darling,” you said, then almost immediately regretted it. You don’t know why you decided to fake a British accent, nor why you felt the need to call her darling, but you couldn’t take back either of them now.

    Wanda blinked, then laughed— before it was cut off by Dottie telling you both to get back to work.

    “It’s more dahrling, less dahling,” Wanda teased. “British people do still use R’s.”

    “Fascinating.”

    Wanda grinned, gave you a final pat on the arm, then turned around to take her shot with Dottie. “I can’t help but wonder if you and I haven’t gotten off on the wrong foot, Dottie, and I would like to correct that if I can.”

    A much better approach than you, you noted with an impressed nod. You walked a little ways off to grab another cart to even out the load of dishes; the current one seemed to sag under the weight.

    “And how would you do that?” Dottie asked and you heard the rustle of fabrics rubbing together as she stood. “I’ve heard things about you. You and your husband.”

    You stopped from your place behind the canopy’s pulled-back curtain. What on earth could she be talking about?

    Wanda has the same thought. “Well, I don’t know what… you’ve been told… but I assure you, I don’t mean anyone… any harm.”

    Your brows knitted together and you shuffled around the canopy’s aluminum frame to hear a little better. You couldn’t imagine Wanda hurting anybody, not on purpose anyway.

    A pang in your temple. A surge of that fierce protectiveness.

    You poked your head out just slightly from behind the canopy. All you could see was Wanda’s back and Dottie’s determined expression from beyond Wanda’s shoulder, and the fact that they were standing very close together.

    “I don’t believe you,” Dottie stated simply. 

    As if on cue, the radio on the table started acting up, the music cutting to static combined with a jumble of noises. Like many things today, though, it sounded strange, as if it was coming from all around you, or directly from inside your skull. It stopped almost immediately as it started and music, regular-sounding music, returned. Normal, you thought, until you focused harder, and noticed a voice creeping from the background. It continued to creep closer, get louder like a person walking towards you would, until it was as loud as the static had been and the music was no longer audible. Your head throbbed as the voice sounded like it was coming out of your brain instead of into your ears but you couldn’t anything other than tighten your grip on the canopy.

    The voice said, “Wanda. Wanda. Who’s doing this to you, Wanda? Wanda. Wanda. Wan—”

    The radio shorted out, there was the sound of the glass Dottie was shattered, and there was another thunderclap in your head as the world around briefly flared into color. Color, not shades of gray, but then the gray was back as quickly as it had left. You didn’t know whether Dottie or the bizarre radio’s frequencies had crushed the glass or whether it had just been dropped, but you were walking over with a cloth in hand before you’d even gotten your senses back in order. 

    “Dottie,” Wanda gasped, her eyes flitting about.

    Dottie caught a glimpse of the overly saturated blood spreading out from the gash in her palm—and seemed only mildly annoyed.

    Wanda kept making sounds like she was trying to speak but didn’t quite know how to. She spun around to grab something to press to the wound and almost ran into you. She stared at you, cloth in hand, with wide eyes filled with equal amounts of fear and surprise, like your existence had been completely forgotten until that moment. Then Wanda grabbed the cloth, and your hand in the process; she gave you a silent thank you, your hand a squeeze so tight you felt her fingernails dig into the skin, then turned back to Dottie and pressed the cloth to her bloody palm.

    Dottie grabbed her hand and said, somehow completely aware of the situation and also seeming totally spaced out, “Pop quiz, Wanda: How does a housewife get a bloodstain out of white linen? By doing it herself.”

    Then she smiled and walked into her house. 

    You and Wanda stood in silence and it was then that you realized you felt the same way you figured Dottie did, similar to how you felt earlier today when you saw the toy helicopter in Wanda’s yard. You felt light and spacey and almost dizzy but without the world spinning, almost like you were a mind outside of your body, or a consciousness inside of a body that wasn’t yours. Time didn’t slow but rather sped up; you didn’t know when you’d started walking to Wanda’s aid and you didn’t remember the feeling of ever grabbing the cloth that you’d given her, and the whole event seemed to have fixed itself as soon as it started with the end result being your mind painfully aware of something being wrong but your body refusing to act like anything was. 

All you’d really felt was your head throbbing, not with pain but with pressure, and the desperate urge to help Wanda. Then you did and everything was over.

Wanda.

You repeated her name in the form of a question; it felt different this time. She didn’t respond or really even move aside from reaching back towards you. You rushed over and grasped her arm and she let out a choked gasp.

“[Y/N].” She said it as if trying it out for the first time. It took her a bit longer to pry her eyes away from the spot where Dottie had been, then she held a hand to her mouth and looked at you. “What just happened?”

“I’m… I’m not sure myself.”

It took a bit longer again for her to speak, her eyes darting from you to the door Dottie had disappeared to and back. “Would you walk me home? Please?”

“Of course, Wanda.”

The walk home was quiet. The two of you had your arms linked as you did on the walk over but now Wanda gripped your arm with her other hand too. Like at Dottie’s pool, it was almost eerily silent except for your and Wanda’s footsteps. Tou could have chalked it up to being because everyone was already in town setting up for the talent show, something about it had you glancing around ever so often, as though you could catch someone peering at you through the bushes or through the crack of a partially opened manhole at any moment.

When you got to Wanda’s door, you had a quick chat about the talent show—as if none of the day’s earlier events had happened; she was very excited to hear you sing—and then she headed up the steps to her door. You gave her a wave and turned to walk home.

“[Y/N]?”

You stopped and turned back around, eyebrows raised slightly.

Wanda walked the three steps back down from her door and gave you a hug. “Thank you for being around today.”

“‘Scuse me, coming through!”

Of course, you’d be late. Of course, you’d get home, start practicing for your performance, pass out on your couch, and wake up five minutes before the show started with a suit and dress combo to still pull on and a few instruments to properly secure in their trunk.

You weaved your way between folks who were either going to the talent show or trying to ignore it and stumbled your way upstairs to the backstage.

Wanda was standing there in a magician’s assistant costume that almost had you on your knees and begging for mercy before you remembered you had a show to do that you were also very late for. She and the Black woman she’d been talking to at Dottie’s meeting—Geraldine, Wanda had informed you later—spun on you with an expectant gasp, only to slump in disappointment when they saw it was you.

“Golly, thanks for the warm welcome,” you muttered, setting your trunk down and popping it open. “Suppose I deserve it for missing most of the show, though.”

“I’m so sorry, [Y/N],” Wanda said as she paced over, “You look fab and I’m sure your performance will be a blast—”

“If I’m still performing?” you asked, directing the question at Geraldine with a hopeful smile.

“If you’re ready before the husband gets here, you can take their place,” Geraldine offered, “If not, you can finish the show off.”

Finishing the talent show, not nerve-wracking at all.

“Vision’s not here?” You gave Wanda a questioning look as you walked past her to look

at yourself in a full-body mirror on the other side of the stage to make sure your look was still in order. The top half of your outfit was a full, simple, black and white tuxedo with a matching black fedora that slightly offset on top of your hair; one of Dottie’s white roses, which you acquired after stuffing her and her husband’s food taster tickets in her mailbox on your way into town, poked out from the hat’s band. The bottom half was a simple skirt—actually, the skirt and undershirt of your outfit was a dress that your mother had pieced together and sent you for your “big night”—that was fashionable for the time but in a sleek shade of black that matched the rest of your tuxedo and with a white band around the hem, paired with a sheer stocking of a plaid pattern and low-heeled shoes that you would return to the shop tomorrow. Finally, for a little touch of color and a little for pop, a golden bejeweled broach was pinned to a crimson pocket square poked out of the chest pocket of your tuxedo jacket, golden geometric earrings hung from your lobes, and a couple of bejeweled bracelets and rings in the same colors adorned your hands. You wore bright, unglossed lipstick and nail polish to match, despite that not being in fashion. Luckily everything still seemed in order.

Wanda gave an exaggerated shrug as you walked back over to your instrument trunk. “Nowhere to be found, like he vanished!”

As if summoned, Vision came wobbling around the corner and up the steps. Well, he almost did; it took him two tries to get up the steps without falling back down.

“Oh, is that him?” Geraldine asked, her face twisting into a look of concern. “Looks like he’s gots a little hitch in his giddyup. Whoa!”

You twisted around, ukulele in hand to check if it was tuned, just as Vision was making it upstairs the second time. You smiled, quirking an eyebrow, only to stumble as the British man threw his arm around you to steady himself. 

“Wanda, my little cabbage, you look smashing!” Vision exclaimed, his words slurring together just slightly. He began swaying and decided to lean almost his full weight on you; when you grunted and moved the instrument you were holding out of the danger zone of getting smacked is when Vision appeared to notice that he was balancing against a person instead of the railing by the stairs. He leaned his face closer and squinted at you—now that you weren’t concerned about going onstage immediately, it was significantly easier to get flustered by Vision and his, yes, absolutely smashing wife—then grinned and said, “Why it’s [Y/N] too, and looking equally as ravishing!”

You tried to keep yourself in check. “Heya cool head, not your wife. That being said, I’d say you look smashing yourself but you just seem positively smashed.”

“Oh, I know,” Vision replied, “I already told her that she looked nice. You heard me right, honey?” He went from so close to your face that his bangs were getting in your eye to only a hand gripping your shoulder as he flung his limbs wide, which was apparently a necessary move to look at his wife’s face.

You gave Wanda a look that was equal parts worried and amused. The look she returned was just worried. 

Wanda walked over to you and helped maneuver you out of Vision’s grip so you could continue tuning your ukulele—actually, it was Vision’s that you were borrowing—then tugged her husband so you were at least a couple feet out of reach. “Vis, where have you been?”

“Oh, uh… me and the boys were playing a rather thrilling game of horses and shoes,” Vision responded, talking in a way that sounded like he was trying to talk under his breath while still speaking at full volume. “No, wait, that’s not it. Shoe horses! Oh, hrn… Ah! Horse’s shoes!” He put two thumbs up and smiled lopsidedly, clearly pleased with himself.

“Horseshoes,” you offered from your corner by the railing. You were done playing with the ukulele and checked to make sure your tambourine was safe and sound.

“Oh, yes!” Vision was his thumbs up towards you, both arms stretched out as far as they could reach. “Brilliant, you’re absolutely brilliant, [Y/N]! Aren’t they brilliant, Wanda, very brilliant and very nice-looking?” 

“Well, uh, yes, I suppose,” Wanda agreed awkwardly, glancing over at you before pulling Vision back to face her; you swore you even saw her cheeks turn a shade darker. “Listen, something strange happened with Dottie.”

You were too busy biting back a smile to hear the rest of the conversation. You rearranged your hat and jacket back into place from Vision knocking them askew, then brushed any wrinkles out of your skirt. You glanced over at Geraldine, who was peeking through the curtains at the main part of the stage.

“I was just playing with his shoes!” Vision suddenly hollered, as the members of the previous act, including someone dressed in a horse costume, made their way around the stage.

“What is going on?” Wanda cried.

Geraldine responded in kind, “You are!”

You considered taking their places so Wanda had time to knock some sense into her husband but you knew if you went out now, you would sound like fingers on a chalkboard, and going out on stage at all was bad enough. Instead, you walked over and gave the couple an encouraging pat on the shoulder and a “Good luck!” before making your way down the steps and around to the viewing area to find a place to sit.

Dottie was onstage. Her hand seemed fine now. “I want to thank you all for coming out to support Westview Elementary, for the children.”

“For the children,” the crowd echoed, mostly deadpan.

“I have yet to see a child,” you stated at the same time, sitting back in an extra chair off to the side of the stage as to not annoy audience members with the vocal warmups you were about to start doing.

Dottie continued, “And for our final act—”

Geraldine scurried out from behind the curtains at muttered something in Dottie’s ear before rushing away again.

Dottie quickly picked you on the sidelines and gave a strained smile, although the daggers she was glaring made you sink down in your chair. “Sorry, everyone. For our next to final act, I give you Wanda and Vision.”

Wanda sauntered out from behind the curtains and down to the front of the stage, then planted herself slightly off to the side and threw one hand up as an entrance cue to Vision. At first, he didn’t appear and Wanda’s bravado faltered slightly as she looked out into the crowd.

You caught her eye and gave her an assuring nod.

Then Vision flying out of curtains and yelled at the top of his lungs, “Hello Westview! Good afternoon!” Still introducing, he stumbled down to the main part of the stage, bumping into a railing at some point and apologizing to it. He sort of settled and continued, “I am Glamour and this is my delightful assistant Illusion.”

“I am Glamour,” Wanda chimed in, talking and moving with even more animation than she normally would, “and he’s Illusion.”

“Yeah, what she said,” Vision said simply, then rambled on, “Tonight, we will lie to you, and yet you will believe our little deceptions because human beings are easily fooled due to their limited understanding of the inner workings of the universe.” He ended this definitely off-script statement with a matter-of-fact shrug and nod. 

You regretted not going on first.

“Flourish!” Vision suddenly hollered, waving his hands in such a way. 

This was going to be chaos, you decided, and it was.

Wanda and Vision’s act was a mess but at least it was an entertaining one. While the act did go on, Vision spent most of his time prattling on and yelling “Flourish!” while Wanda tried to keep things in check. Some of the tricks were good and even impressive at times before the “inner workings of the universe” became clear moments later. Vision’s first trick was to float up into the air, only for a pulley system to be revealed as Wanda moved a sign offstage. For the second, he picked up a piano with one hand only for the jarringly realistic instrument only for Wanda to slip up while carrying the one-dimensional prop away and show its bare wooden back with a large handle to grasp. 

At one point, though, Vision trotted offstage and tried to perform a card trick for a friend while Wanda was helpless to stop him, but the end result was him going through an entire deck of cards trying to find the correct one. Then he went to pull Señor Scratchy out of his hat, only to find his hat laying on stage and Agnes’s rabbit hopping across it until Wanda managed to catch him and take him backstage. 

Regardless of which tricks hit and which went wonky, the crowd, you included, seemed to love the Maximoff duo and hung onto the entire act. There were gasps and awes and you were personally still dumbfounded by the one where Vision pulled a hat through his body; the backstage curtains happened to fall at the perfect time to reveal a multitude of mirrors, only one of which that you knew had been back there previously, but a dull throb in the back of your head warned you to just let the mystery slide. After all, it wasn’t as fun if you spent the entire show pondering.

For Vision and Wanda’s final trick, Wanda brought out a large box called the Cabinet of Mysteries. At first, Vision stated that he was going to make his wife disappear but then he started locking up the Cabinet without her inside.

You caught Wanda’s act begin to slip again as her smile faltered and she began scanning the crowd. No else did, though, because Agnes suddenly hollered an offer of audience participation in the form of her husband, which caused everyone including Vision to laugh.

Then Vision was back to his trick, slapping the Cabinet’s side with a plastic wand and yelling, “Abrakadabra!” 

“Uh, sweetheart,” Wanda murmured without breaking her pose.

Vision responded loudly, “Yeah?”

“Hi.”

“Oh.”

There was an awkward pause and you chewed your lip as you glanced around. People were waiting for the finale and Vision had just messed it up big time.

A chant of “What’s in the box?” started up.

Then you happened to look back to the stage just in time to make eye contact with Wanda as she looked around.

She grinned.

And then you were somewhere else, surrounded by darkness and wood panels.

You were only there for a moment but your eyes still needed a moment to adjust as Wanda and Vision open the Cabinet of Mysteries’ doors and you were greeted with a gasping and then applauding crowd. You blinked and, disoriented but not wanting to ruin Wanda and Vision’s successful grand finale, you put on your best smile and hopped out of the wooden box to strike a flourished pose.

“Ah-ha,” Vision voiced, seeming just as surprised as the crowd before grinning walking stepping up to your side.

Wanda stepped up to your other side and when you raised an eyebrow at her, she gave you a cheeky grin and mouthed, “Magic.” The wink she gave you afterward could have sent you to the moon but you still had your own performance to do. She made sure you were reminded of that by holding up a microphone.

Wanda and Vision each slipped an arm around your waist and you did the same to them despite their touch feeling very warm underneath the jacket of your uniform, and with one last “Flourish!” from Vision, the three of you bowed.     The three of you bowed two more times before standing fully again. Wanda and Vision began to move away from you but you slid your arms to grab their own, keeping them there.

Wanda leaned in slightly, talking through her smile. “What are you doing?”

“Grab the tambourine in my trunk and go sit by Agnes. Ask her to inform you and wait for the cue.” When Wanda looked at you with a raised brow, you mimicked her cheeky grin and wink, mouthing, “Music.”

Vision leaned in now, although way too close. “What are we doing?”

“Tambourine, apparently,” Wanda responded, stepping away from you. You figured they were going to go and do as you asked but instead, Wanda continued, “Vis, take the cabinet and grab the tambourine; I have an introduction to do.”

Vision stood around for a moment before doing what Wanda told him to and Wanda slipped her arm around your waist once more and brought you a few steps farther to the front of the stage.

Now sitting at the edge of it was Vision’s ukulele and the mic stand, probably courtesy of Geraldine.

With you close at her side and you unsure where to put your hands, Wanda attached the microphone she held to the stand and turned it on. “As Dottie has said several times tonight, thank you once more for coming to support Westview Elementary, for the children.”

“For the children,” the audience echoed, still mostly deadpan.

“I still haven’t seen a single one,” you muttered. This earned you a pinch to the hip from the hand around your waist and you suddenly felt like your body was the same temperature as the surface of the sun.

“Now,” Wanda continued without missing a beat, “allow me to introduce helper of Illusion and Glamour’s grand finale and the final final act of tonight’s talent show, [Y/N]!”

The audience clapped and Wanda did with it as she detached from your side and slipped backstage after giving you an electric smile. Suddenly, you were much more aware of being on a stage in front of your entire town, save for the two people you actually wanted to see in it.

“Um, yes, hello,” you said into the mic, standing a little too close. You didn’t know it was possible to feel the amount of heat burning behind your cheeks and ears, and you wished to could shed your jacket but figured that would ruin the ensemble. You shook your head to clear it as you bent down to pick up your ukulele—

—and when you stood back up, you spotted Wanda and Vision—who seemed to have sobered up somehow—sitting at Agnes’s table with a tambourine on the table between them.

You bit back a smile as your gaze flitted between them; they each gave you a smile in turn before you continued, “Um, so, as you heard, I am the final act. My name is [Y/N] and I will be performing a song, “Can’t Take My Eyes off You” by Frankie Valli, acoustic on ukulele.”

You strummed the ukulele once, just to make sure it was still in tune, then you began to play. You leaned back from the mic to clear your throat and after a couple of bars, you came in:

“You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

You'd be like Heaven to touch

I wanna hold you so much

At long last, love has arrived

And I thank God I'm alive

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

Pardon the way that I stare

There's nothin' else to compare

The sight of you leaves me weak

There are no words left to speak

But if you feel like I feel

Please let me know that it's real

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you”

    You were a bit pitchy in the beginning but it didn’t take you too long to find where you needed to be, then it was smooth sailing from there; you even put a bit of a beat into it with a tap of your foot, which with a hard heel on a wooden floor in front of a silent crowd wasn’t too difficult to hear. At first, you kept your gaze pointed directly ahead and slightly above the crowd but as you began to relax and get into it, you couldn’t help but catch glances of a tapping foot here or a finger tapping on a glass cup there. Finally, your eyes drifted to where they wanted to be and you couldn’t look away from the pair seated next to Agnes even if you’d wanted to.

Vision was bopping along as he would when he was teaching you the chords and notes you were looking for, both feet and all ten fingers tapping, though his smile was particularly bright. Wanda was looking at you some type of sweet way, with that soft expression she’d had when you’d caught her in a dip earlier just today. 

“I love you, baby

And if it's quite alright

I need you, baby

To warm the lonely night

I love you, baby

Trust in me when I say

Oh, pretty baby

Don't bring me down, I pray

Oh, pretty baby

Now that I've found you, stay

And let me love you, baby

Let me love you”

        You wanted the first part of the song to be softer but as you hit the second part of the chorus you smoothly added in a little action. You put a little flourish in your strumming—and almost missed a word because the idea of calling it a flourish made you almost laugh—added a little more power to your voice, and cued Agnes in, who began clapping along to the proper beat. It didn’t take too long for your audience, especially those who’d you caught tapping along earlier, to join in until the entire crowd was doing it, and happened you catch Vision’s eye while he clapping along a little more animated than everyone else. He grinned, a little bashful by the look of it. 

    Once she’d gotten everyone in, Agnes stopped clapping herself and instead pulled a tambourine of her own out of her handbag. You watched her nudge Wanda, who stopped her clapping and picked up the other tambourine, then followed Agnes’s lead until she got a hang of it. You’d think two tambourines would be a little hard to hear over a sea of clapping but it was Agnes and Wanda and as usual, they figured out a way. 

    You knew you’d chosen a popular song and you knew that some people would know it in full but despite Agnes trying to convince you that she’d have everyone joining in, you definitely didn’t expect the entire crowd to be able to stay in sync and follow the ebbs and flows of the entire song. It really was a bit of a magical moment and you found with that thought, you found your eyes settling on Wanda, who was jamming away on her tambourine and dancing in her seat, without missing a beat.

    She must have noticed because she raised her head and looked back at you.

    The song ended not long after and you couldn’t help clapping for the crowd as they did for you. You took your second set of bows on stage that day, hollered a “Thank you” to the crowd, and took off to the section of backstage that was still hidden by curtains with a wave as Dottie took your place to do the talent show’s conclusion. With layers of dark fabric now between you and the rest of the talent show, you could only hear muffled voices, which was perfectly fine with you as you were too busy tossing your tux jacket and hat aside and shaking out the tautness in your limbs caused by the nerves of performing on your own in front of a decently sized crowd. Although, technically, you and the crowd were performing by the end of it.

    You tried to tune in to Dottie’s voice as you bounced over to look yourself over in one of the mirrors left over from Vision and Wanda’s performance. Your outfit was intact, albeit a little bit ruffled from the dancing around you just finished doing, with your hair looking a bit flat from being stuck under a hat. Your face was flushed with a warmth that you felt from your toes to your hairline but what little makeup you wore looked just as it did earlier minus your lipstick having faded somewhat. The best and worst part of your current state, you thought, came from that part; the smile you were wearing was radiant but it was lasting so long that your cheeks were starting to hurt, and even if you purposely tried to frown it away, it popped back up a few seconds later.

    Especially when you thought about how much Wanda and Vision were enjoying themselves, because of you.

    “Um, excuse me.”

    Your gaze turned its attention to look at the reflection of Geraldine, who was standing behind you, in the mirror. “Oh, hey.”

    She smiled, pleased that you didn’t seem disrupted. “Your singing was really twitchin’, you had the whole crowd into it!”

    “I think that was more Agnes’s glaring than anything, but thanks.” You sent a less starstruck smile at her in the mirror, then picked up your hat to fan yourself as you turned around to face her.

    “Agnes is way out herself,” Geraldine agreed, though you saw her smile falter and caught her fingers tapping nervously on the clipboard she held. “She could probably out-power Dottie if she really wanted to.”

    “She doesn’t,” you affirmed, “she likes to use Dottie as a reason to sneak drinks into social gatherings too much.”

    Geraldine smiled again but she wouldn’t fully look at you and when she did, her eyes looked like they were searching for something.

    “You okay?” When Geraldine looked at you, surprised, you nodded to her hands that couldn’t seem to keep still. “Seem a little unglued and you keep looking at me funny.”

    “Oh, uh, well,” Geraldine stammered a bit, then stopped. She took a deep breath, then tried again, “I know we saw each other at Dottie’s earlier and before you went onstage but… Do you know me?”

    Your eyebrows rose high up on your forehead. 

    “It’s just,” she continued, sounding like she was forcing herself to talk slower, “you look familiar to me and I’m wondering if you think the same thing.”

    “I… I suppose I did when I first saw you,” you said, setting your hat aside. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, you couldn’t help glancing around; specifically, you looked towards the curtains separating you and Geraldine from the outside world and wished that wasn’t the case. “I figured we’d met in passing, tooling or something.”

    When you looked back at Geraldine, it was as if your personalities had changed. You were the meek one, shifting around unsettled, while she stood watching you with a thoughtfulness that was far from the nervousness you saw in her earlier. “I don’t know where I’m from or why I’m here. Do you?”

    You couldn’t be sure whether she was asking you about yourself or her but your head was suddenly too foggy to care. Foggy and throbbing with a pain that made darkness tinge the corners of your vision. You went to step to the side and steady yourself on a nearby chair but found yourself reeling backwards. You smashed into the mirror behind you, which smashed into the wall behind it and shattered; you managed to stumble away from it before you got too badly hurt but you still felt shocks of pain up your right arm and a particularly bad one in your hand as you caught glass.

Before you could run into something else or completely lose balance and fall to the ground, you slowly maneuvered to the floor and braced yourself on one knee and your unharmed hand and you were vaguely aware that Geraldine had disappeared. You squinted through blurriness at your other arm and watched as spots of blood bloomed across the white fabric of your sleeve, weeped from the gash across your palm.

No, wait.

Not only blood but color spread out your bleeding wounds. Flesh tone bled from your palm and color wetted the jewels on your bracelets and rings, color seeped from a tattered tear in your shirt and faded into the wooden floor in your line of vision, as if everything was on one piece of paper and watercolor paint was bleeding across the lines of a sketch.

“[Y/N?]” Vision’s voice called, “Are you back here?”

You tried to hide your hurt arm behind your back and jerked your head in the direction of voices getting closer. You immediately regretted the sudden movement and tried to blink away pain—

When you opened your eyes, you were standing, completely fine, in front of the mirror, completely unbroken, and fanning yourself with your hat with your other arm, completely unharmed, at your side. When your eyes flitted around, looking for Geraldine in the mirror’s reflection, she was nowhere backstage.

Instead, your eyes settled on Vision and Wanda walking through the curtains, smiling and animatedly chatting and holding a small trophy between them.

Once they were through the fabric they looked around, Vision’s bright eyes settling on you just a moment before Wanda’s did.

You could have melted. Whatever concern or worries you had just a moment earlier certainly did. 

“[Y/N],” Wanda beamed, “look at what we won!” She pointed and Vision raised the trophy for you to properly see; you managed to read “Inaugural Comedy Performance of the Year” etched into its base before the pair walked over.

You turned to meet them, placing your hat back on your head and snagging your tuxedo jacket to slip back into. “A trophy, congrats!”

“We tried to get you to come up on stage with us,” Vision said, “but we couldn’t find you!”

He certainly seemed to have sobered up since you last stood face to face with him.

You apologized, “Sorry, I had to come backstage. I was overheated and far too overwhelmed by the crowd, I don’t think I could have it up there again either way!”

“Oh, you poor thing.” Her expression shifted from proud to worried in a moment and she went to press a hand to your forehead before she seemed to decide against it. “Are you feeling any better?”

You felt the need to take a quick glance around backstage, though you couldn’t explain why. Then you nodded. “I am, much. Actually, since I wasn’t able to join you on stage and congratulate you there, how about we all get changed into clothes a little less eye-catching and we have dinner at my place, hm? I’ll cook and everything.”

“They can cook?” Vision teased to Wanda without lowering his voice at all.

“They can,” you responded, giving his side a quick jab, then smiled and slid around them. Stopping at the edge of the stage, you offered out your arms to them both. “At least a little bit. Shall we?” 

Wanda faked a thinking pose and when Vision caught on he did the same.

“We-ell,” Wanda sang, tilting her head from side to side, “Oh, alright, we shall.” She walked over, tugging Vision along with her, and they each linked arms with you.

    The three of you headed offstage. 

    “I disagree about changing, though,” Vision claimed suddenly; both you and Wanda gave him a look. “I think we all look—”

    “Smashing?” offered Wanda.

    “Ravishing?” you suggested.

    “—absolutely neato,” Vision finished, nodding. “And I think we should show off to the town!”

    You shook your head but you were smiling. “I already showed off to the town enough today.”

    “And I’m still showing off too much,” Wanda agreed. She kicked one stocking-covered leg out for good measure.

    “Oh, fine.” Vision scoffed. 

    He certainly did not admit defeat, though, and spent the rest of the walk home trying to convince the two of you.

    Wanda and Vision, without his human disguise, danced into their home after a lovely dinner at [Y/N]’s—they could cook a bit!—and as they walked through the door, Wanda spun herself into Vision’s arm.

    Vision slightly dipped her and said in a voice that was an octave or two lower, “You were tremendous Glamour.”

    “As were you, Illusion,” Wanda responded with a pearly smile. She stood up straight and walked over to put their new trophy on the coffee table as Vision shut the front door. “Oh, I don’t know what I was so worried about. It wasn’t so hard to fit in after all!”

    Wanda sat and got comfortable on the couch and Vision soon followed. “And all we had to do was be ourselves.”

    “Well, with a few modifications,” Wanda said as she curled in closer under her husband’s arm.

    “And it was all for the children,” Vision said. Halfway through the phrase, Wanda joined in, then they chuckled and gently bumped their foreheads together.

    Then Wanda leaned back into the couch and Vision’s side, quiet. She glanced around the room, absentmindedly playing with Vision’s fingers.

    “Wanda, darling, is something wrong?”

    Vision’s voice brought her attention back to him. She smiled, leaned in, and gave him a peck on the lips, then looked at their joined hands. Her smile faltered; she felt like something was missing.

    “[Y/N] made this funny point at the talent show, about the ‘for the children’ thing; ‘I haven’t seen one yet’ or something like it,” she said out of the blue. “They were an angel with me today.”

    “Oh?” Vision responded softly. He seemed to cue into her befuddled emotions and leaned back, looking at her intently. 

    “At Dottie’s,” she clarified, then added, “They also walked me home because I was a little shaken up. Very sweet.”

    “That’s right,” Vision said, “You said something strange happened at Dottie’s today?”

    “More like a few weird things,” Wanda confirmed, then recounted the details. Most of them anyway; she kept out the part about the radio talking to her for the sake of her and Vision’s sanity. It sounded legitimately insane and was probably the result of her fear at the time making her imagine things.

    Then again, Dottie had heard it as well… She couldn’t confirm that [Y/N] had.

    “My, that is indeed bizarre,” Vision said. His hairless brow furrowed. “Is Dottie alright?”

    “Well, she must be,” Wanda replied, “She was perfectly fine at the show today and didn’t say a word about it, so…”

    Vision gave a thoughtful nod, then shrugged. “Must be.”

    They both faded into cozy, albeit wondering, silence. Wanda began playing with Vision’s fingers again and she happened to look towards the front door.

    “Hey Vis?”

    “Hm?”

    “Do you think [Y/N]’s attractive?”

    Vision took in an unneeded breath so fast that he almost choked on his tongue. He spluttered, “Pardon?”

    “You know,” Wanda continued, turning back in his direction but not looking at him, “A fox. A hunk. Ravishing.”

    If Vision could blush he probably would have. He removed his arm from around Wanda’s shoulders and scratched the side of his face. “I was feeling weird when I said that. You know, the gum. I didn’t mean—well that’s not to say they’re not attractive either! Because they are. I mean, they look fine, I certainly wouldn’t say unattractive by any means, and I quite like their company. But love, I didn’t mean anything serious by it, I didn’t mean to offend—”

    “I think they’re attractive,” Wanda stated simply, bringing Vision’s rambling to a quick halt. Her gaze drifted back towards the front door and she briefly used her magic to view the home across the street. Some of the lights were still on; she imagined their dinner companion was in the kitchen, washing up the dishes from their meal.

    She wouldn’t mind cooking with [Y/N] or washing dishes with them after meals. Or having both Vision and them coming home in the evenings. 

    “Oh. Um, well… Oh?”

    “Quite like their company too,” Wanda went on, agreeing with one of Vision’s earlier statements. Her eyes moved to the plant [Y/N] had brought them not long after they’d first moved in; the plant had outgrown its old pot at this point but had its original ribbon still intact on the current one. “And they’ve always got manners and compliments and they’re always getting so nervous that they're going to come off the wrong way.”

    “Yes,” Vision said slowly, “They treat me the same way. Sometimes, if I’m not working, I’ll come to work the next day and have files on my desk with little notes clipped to them. And they’ll sometimes even bring me a snack or a water cup after coming back from their break or lunch, even though I’ve never even pretended to drink or eat in front of them.”

    “Well, to be fair,” Wanda said, “regular humans do just randomly eat and drink things, and they do think you’re a regular human.” 

    “I often wish they didn’t, though,” Vision mumbled, rubbing his jaw, “because I’m not a big fan of lying to them and pretending as I do. I keep their snacks in my drawer until I’m heading home and then throw it out on the way because I don’t want them to see and feel bad.”

    Wanda nodded, understanding. “I’m not exactly jazzed about lying to them either.” 

    They simultaneously sighed and slumped together.

    What odd feelings, Wanda thought, for a married couple to have about their neighbor across the street.

    “Wanda?”

    “Yes, dear?”

    “Do you feel the same way about them as you do me?”

    Wanda tilted her head from side to side and tapped her chin as she thought. “Not how I feel about you now, no. But how I felt about when I first met you? Maybe. Or, at least, something like it.”

    Vision hummed. “They feel a bit familiar, don’t they?”

    “And we have such a good time together, the three of us,” Wanda added.

    A small spell of silence again.

    Then Wanda said, “I think we should ask them on a date.”

    Vision almost choked on his tongue again. “You think we should— I mean— You and me? As you and me together or you and me separately?”

    “Why not both?”

    Wanda’s husband’s eyes bugged out of his head. If they weren’t in the middle of a serious conversation, she may have laughed.

    “Can we… Can we even do that?” Vision asked.

    “I mean, I don’t see why not,” Wanda answered, shrugging. “It’s not illegal to date another person. Just marry them, I think. Actually, I’m not even sure if it’s illegal to do that.”

    “But isn’t that… An affair? Of sorts?” Vision squinted, quickly glancing between his wife and the window, whose curtains shielded his view from the person in question’s home. It almost felt disrespectful talking about [Y/N] without them present, which was odd in itself. 

    “No, not if we’re both dating the person in question, I don’t think,” Wanda said. Her brows knitted together a bit but then she perked up and placed her hands on Vision’s thigh. “I know when we can do it!”

    “When?”

    “We forgot to get your ukulele back,” She responded with a big smile. “We can go get it and ask them on a date.”

    “What would we even do on a… three-way date?” Vision cringed at himself. He would never call them a three-way again.

    “Picnic,” Wanda offered, then listed off, “Dinner out. A walk. Trip to a passion pit for a movie. Dancing but that would require one of us to know how to dance. Maybe [Y/N] knows how to dance!”

    “I know how to dance,” Vision said with a scowl.

    “No, hon, you don’t, but you’re wonderful all the same,” Wanda said and kissed him on the nose. “Besides, the three of us have almost been attached at the hip since we’ve gotten to know each other; it wouldn’t exactly be odd for us to go out and do things together. Hell, we did the talent show together today and it went very well!”

    “The gum?”

    “It went decently well!”

    Wanda could see Vision warming up to the idea just as much as she was. She could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tried to come up with dates fit for three people.

    After a moment, Vision gave her a solid nod. “Alright then! When we see them to get my ukulele, we’ll ask them on a date.”

    “Yay!” Wanda clapped. “A date!” She hopped up from her seat and, drifting back to their previous conversation, she said, “Well, I think the children need some popcorn!” Vision said her name and she spun back to look at him. “Hm, what?”

    Vision slowly stood and looked pointedly down at her stomach. She did too, then gasped and touched her ballooned out stomach. She looked as if she were a few months pregnant and after holding her stomach for a bit longer, she knew she was. Wanda looked up at her husband with a mixture of fear and wonder in her eyes; the look on his face mimicked her own.

    “Vision,” she said softly, “is this really happening?”

    Vision searched her face as he gently grasped her hands. His mouth quirked up just slightly as he answered, “Yes, my love, it’s really happening.”

    They leaned for a kiss.

    They were interrupted by a crash outside. 

    Both Wanda and Vision jumped as they looked towards the door. Then Vision scowled and released Wanda’s hands to walk over to the door.

    “If it’s that damn tree again,” he loudly grumbled, “I am going to… rip it out by the roots!”

    He walked outside and Wanda quickly followed.

    You jumped back from your sink, almost dropping a dish in shock from the crash that had just come out front. You couple a couple breaths to calm yourself, then put your dish and drying rag down and headed to the living room.

    “I swear,” you warned, loud enough so the trees outside could hear you, “I’ll come out there with a chainsaw! I don’t have one but I’ll find one and I’ll do it!”

    You walked to the front door. You peeled back the curtain hanging from its window to see Wanda and Vision—who looked strange, though it was too dark outside to tell why—walking outside their own home and out to the sidewalk. You watched them, debating on whether to walk outside as well and help investigate or not.

    “I don’t see anything!” you heard Wanda holler. Almost immediately, her and her husband’s gaze were drawn to a manhole cover in the middle of the street.

    You followed their gaze and your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as the three of you watched the manhole slowly move out of place. From the corner of your eye, you saw Vision closer to Wanda, and you wished you could too, but you were stuck watching as someone climbed out of the now gaping hole in the road.

    A… beekeeper?

    A beekeeper and swarm of bees climbed out of the manhole.

    You felt that now-familiar feeling again, foggy-headed but not in pain and fiercely protective of, this time, both her and her husband and her children.

    Children?

    You scrambled to get your front door open as the strange beekeeper of the sewer turned to look at the Maximoffs. You looked down to mess with the doorknob—

    When you looked up again, you were standing on the front porch of the Maximoff house.

    How weird. 

You spun and looked around wildly, your eyes settling on the manhole cover closed tightly shut it in the street for just a few seconds longer than the rest of the environment, but everything seemed in order. Slowly relaxing, you turned back to your task of returning Vision’s ukulele. 

You raised your right hand to knock, then stopped.

Color began blooming across your arm, beginning from the same spots you vaguely remembered cutting yourself on a broken mirror recently. This time, though, there were no cuts or blood, just gray tones coming to life in bright, vivid color. Gray turned to the color of skin and the green of your blouse—you’d thought it’d been green before but now you could properly see it—and when you spun around to observe the rest of the neighborhood, it was suddenly in color too. When you slowly, awestruck, turned back to Wanda and Vision’s house, it was wonderfully colored too, as was the ukulele in your lovely, now-in-color hand.

You grinned and excitedly knocked on the door, only for it to be opened moments later by Vision, wearing a very nice yellow and blue sweater or a white-colored shirt.

“Oh, [Y/N]!” He said it in a way that was a little too loud and he nervously glanced over his shoulder at Wanda, who stood a few feet back in a beautiful outfit of bright red with her hands on her expecting stomach.

You really did like her shirt.

You just liked her.

You just liked her and her husband quite a lot.

“Sorry, bad time?” You held out Vision’s ukulele to him. “I finished cleaning up and was about to go to bed when I noticed this still sitting on my coffee table.”

“Oh, that’s perfect!” Vision chirped, still just a little too loud than necessary.

“Oh, goodness, Vis, come inside.” Wanda walked over and nudged Vision out of the way, then smiled at you and took the ukulele out of your hand.

“Remember when we first met and you said he wasn’t always like that?” you quipped with a crooked smile, which broke into a cheek-hurting grin when Wanda giggled in response.

“Suppose I hadn’t realized it yet,” Wanda teased back. She offered the ukulele to Vision, who was still standing nearby and who was now pouting, then she moved to do the side. “Would you like to come in for a drink? We were just talking about you.”

Now you were the awkward one. “Um, yeah, sure.” You stepped inside and, glancing again at Wanda’s belly, added, “I can’t believe I forgot a baby gift. Congratulations, if I haven’t said it already.”

Wanda blinked, then shut the door behind you. “Oh nonsense. There’s plenty of time left for that.”

“I feel like it came out of nowhere; they might be here sooner than you think!”

#marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagines #marvel headcanons #mcu #mcu x reader #mcu imagines #mcu headcanons #wandavision #wandavision x reader #wandavision headcanons #wandavision imagines #poly!wandavision #poly wandavision #gender neutral reader #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagines #scarlet witch headcanons #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff headcanons #marvel vision #vision x reader #vision imagines #vision headcanons #marvel vision x reader #marvel vision imagines #marvel vision headcanons

[mrswhozeewhatsis]

Perfect

A/N: I actually wrote something!! Hallelujah!! Special thanks to @negans-lucille-library for beta reading and putting up with all of my questions!!

Summary: Life with Dean is perfect.

Pairing: Dean x reader (I believe this reader is pretty gender neutral, so I hope some guys out there get to read this and enjoy it, too!)

Warnings: None, really. Mostly fluff. Bit of angst.

Word count: 3497 words

Prompt: For the @spnfanficpond's S14 Weekly Episode Challenge, week 19. I used one prompt. It will be bolded. Not listing it here because spoilers.

Two machetes swung in unison, lopping off two vampire heads and leaving you looking at the proud face of your husband as the bodies fell between you. A beam of sunlight burst through a broken board in the roof of the barn and lit up dust motes in the air around Dean’s head, making him look positively resplendent. You grinned at each other before each of you motioned over the other’s shoulder, and then both spun away, taking down two more vampires with almost synchronized movements. It was always like a dance, fighting with Dean. The two of you had fought together for so long now, you were one unit, just taking down monster after monster in fights that almost looked choreographed.

When the last vampire head hit the ground with a satisfying thump and the corresponding body slumped after it, you both heaved a satisfied sigh and smiled at each other. With a quiet nod, you separated, making sure the barn was completely clear of monsters, inside and out, then met again in the middle with a quick, chaste, kiss.

“I’d do better, but you have a little something right… about...” –you gestured at his cheek, then really all over his face– “well, everywhere, really,” you said with a grimace. “Don’t feel like turning into a vampire just because I wanted to kiss my husband.”

Dean pretended to try and kiss you messily, laughing when you pushed him away. “You mean, it’s not worth two days of puking your guts up with the vampire cure to give your hot-as-hell husband a proper kiss?” Letting you go, he wiped his machete off on the shirt of one of the headless bodies and then headed toward the water pump just outside the barn doors. “I must be losing my touch!” he joked as he began pumping to fill the trough below the faucet.

You joined him in cleaning both your weapons and yourselves, enjoying the clear spring air and bright sunshine warming your back, and soon you were able to safely risk showing your affection. As did every other part of you, your lips fit together perfectly. Dean kissed you so well, you wondered how you ever thought anyone else was any good at it. He took over all your senses, making little happy noises when your tongue slid against his, surrounding you with his arms, filling your nose with the scent of his aftershave and sweat, and leaving the taste of the pie he’d had with breakfast in your mouth. You finally came up for air, still trading little nibbly kisses until you both accepted that the hunt wasn’t done, yet, and you needed to finish it. You stayed in his arms an extra moment, foreheads touching, both reaffirming that you were still here - still alive - and uninjured after the fight.

“Love you,” you whispered, looking through your lashes at the bright green of Dean’s eyes. They always seemed greener in the spring, somehow.

“Ditto,” he whispered back, before landing one last peck on your lips and smacking your ass playfully.

“You’re lucky I love you, or I would have told Sam how you watched that movie, and enjoyed it, a long time ago!” you teased as the two of you split up to head to Baby’s trunk and get cleaning supplies.

Walking ahead of you with those long legs, Dean turned around, walking backward for a step, and gasped loudly. “You wouldn’t!” he cried with eyes wide and his mouth turned into a pout, clearly knowing that you really wouldn’t, but playing your game, anyway.

“That’s right, I wouldn’t because I love you. Now, aren’t you lucky?” you scolded while still grinning.

He stopped you, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you, yet again. “Luckiest man in the world,” he echoed, before turning away and unlocking the trunk.

While Dean was digging through the trunk to find a matchbook to go with the can of gas you were holding, you saw something move out of the corner of your eye. Years of hunter awareness sent the hair on the back of your neck standing up while you searched the nearby tree line for another sign of movement. The barn was in the back forty of a farm abandoned at least a decade earlier, so wildlife of all kinds had taken over. The tree line was nothing more than just that: a line of trees that marked the edge of the farm. Over the years, bushes and smaller trees had filled in the gaps between the larger trees, making it a more formidable barrier. Where you guessed you might have been able to see through it years ago, now, it was overgrown and impenetrable. Except for the driveway the vampires had tamed, the grass in the surrounding fields was all knee-high and waving in the breeze. Figuring it was either one of the taller weeds in the grass or an animal, you convinced yourself to let it go as Dean slammed Baby’s trunk lid shut.

The barn had plenty of hay for kindling, but much of it had gotten wet from the holes in the roof. Dean was hauling bales and generally kicking up dust when you inhaled a bit and started sneezing uncontrollably.

“Head outside, honey, and I’ll finish up here,” Dean urged while you continued sniffling and sneezing. “Go use up some of those tissues you keep stashing in my car when you think I’m not looking!”

Not able to speak, you just nodded and headed back out into the sunshine, which started another round of sneezes. You were blowing your nose when you saw another bit of movement by the tree line. Keeping your eyes trained on the grass and bushes that had moved, you finished with the tissues and grabbed your gun from the holster on the back of your belt.

Gun trained in front of you, safety off, you slinked towards the tree line, keeping your eyes moving left to right, looking for another anomaly in the swaying of the grass and weeds. When you reached where you’d seen the movement, there were signs that someone had been standing there all around. Trampled grass, broken branches in the trees and bushes, and then footprints in the mud drew you further into the miniature jungle. You were almost out and on the other side when you were grabbed from behind, a hand put over your mouth to dampen your screams.

Whoever it was pulled you backward, knocking you off your feet so you stumbled. The body behind you spun you and pushed you up against a tree, knocking the gun from your hand in the process. You tried to shove an elbow back into their ribs, but it was caught, and you were pinned. Your mind swirled, going through the intel you’d gathered with Dean before the hunt. Both of you had been sure of the headcount, but obviously, you were wrong. One of them must have been away for a few days, but now they were home and pissed.

“Calm down, kiddo, I’m not a monster,” said a very familiar voice as you were pulled away from the tree, but still held tightly. “Just take a breath and relax and we can talk.”

A deep breath, a subtle shift in your body, and the picture in your mind became something almost like your husband, but not. Your muscles relaxed, trusting Dean no matter what was happening, even though your mind still whirled. Through the leaves of the trees and bushes, you saw your husband walk out of the barn, looking for something. Maybe looking for you.

“Of all the things I thought I might see when I walked into your dream, I really didn’t expect to see me.” The arms around you loosened and you whipped around to see a carbon copy of your husband standing there.

Well, almost a carbon copy. Different flannel. Different jeans. Fewer laugh lines around the mouth. Less unadulterated love and affection in the eyes.

“Dream?” you asked stupidly, looking back at your husband as he began searching for you around the barn. You didn’t want to believe it, but as you watched your husband in the distance, you saw the differences, the unreality. That didn’t stop your heart and mind from clinging to him, wanting nothing more than to go back to him.

The Dean next to you sighed. “Yeah, kiddo. I’m sorry, but it’s a dream. You got nabbed by a djinn. Sam’s off getting ingredients for the antidote, but I couldn’t just sit by and watch you dying, so I took some dream root.”

Your husband looked absolutely panicked as he ran towards another part of the tree line, searching for you. The sight pulled at your heart. How he missed your trail through the tall grass was a mystery. You’d have to tease him on his lack of tracking skills later when you got home, after the panic was over.

“I need to go let him know that I’m okay,” you whimpered, taking a step towards where your husband was beating back bushes looking for evidence of you.

Dean gently grabbed your elbow and stopped you. “No, kiddo, you really don’t. He’s not real.” With some effort, he turned you around so you were looking at him, this man who was so close, but not quite your husband. “I’m real, you’re real, and the crappy motel we’re asleep in out there in the real world, that’s real. But this is all crap. You can walk away from it all and come back to what’s real.”

Silent tears dripped down your cheeks. Your mind fought against it, but once the magic trick was revealed, you couldn’t go back to believing. Memories of working beside Dean for years, loving him quietly while he fought and died and came back and fought and died again… they rushed back in and overwhelmed you. Memories of a quiet confession of love, a small wedding, and a shared bed quickly took on the sepia tones of a fading dream. A sob ripped from your throat, and you covered your mouth with your hand to muffle it.

“So,” you croaked, sniffling through the tears, “everything… with him,” you nodded at your husband, still literally beating the bushes to find you, “all the…,” a sob stopped you until you could swallow it down, “all the everything with him, it was all a dream?” Turning back to the Dean in front of you, your heart ripped in two. “Just a stupid fucking dream?” His face twisted as he looked down to avoid your eyes, but he still nodded. “And now you’re telling me that I have to leave?” He nodded again, his eyes still on the ground instead of on you.

Your husband was getting closer. He’d see you in a minute. He’d hold you, and comfort you, and love you the way this Dean never would. You could go home with him, go back to the Bunker, where Sam and Eileen were teaching hunter classes to Jody’s girls and a few other new recruits. Jack and Cas were fixing Heaven but always visited for Sunday dinner. Eileen was pregnant, and you were going to be a godparent, and Dean had already built the crib and bought the biggest stuffed unicorn you’d ever seen. You could go home with him and live an entire lifetime with him and your family until the djinn poison took you.

“No,” you declared. “I don’t have to leave. It’s my choice. I can stay if I want. Even if I know it’s a dream, I can stay here.” Looking at the real man your husband was based on, you shook your head and stepped away from him. “Maybe it’s just a dream, but it’s my dream, and I’m staying.”

Your husband crashed through the bushes and finally caught sight of you, with another Dean holding your elbow in one hand. His gun came up, the safety clicked off, and you stepped in front of the real Dean. The move stopped him from firing but didn’t quell his confusion.

“What’s going on, babe? You know that’s not me, right?”

You nodded, tears still streaming down your face. “I know, but don’t shoot. Please don’t hurt him,” you begged. “Just trust me, okay?”

Pushing Dean’s hand from your arm, you walked toward your husband, arms outstretched. He pulled you close and hugged you tightly, gun still pointed somewhat at the other Dean, murmuring about how worried he’d been when he couldn’t find you.

“Who is this guy, anyway? What’s going on?” he asked you, talking into your hair as he held your head against his shoulder with one hand and continued watching his prey suspiciously.

You’d never felt as safe and loved as you did in Dean’s arms. It didn’t matter where in the world you were, or what was happening around you, in Dean’s embrace was your happy place. You’d do anything to stay there. Even die.

“Nothing you need to worry about, honey,” you reassured him, pulling away so you could look him in the eye. “He’s leaving and I’m staying with you. Till death parts us, and then beyond, like I promised.” Cupping his head with your hands, you kissed him, promising to uphold your vows with every fiber of your being.

“Even if it’s only a dream?” your husband asked, his eyes closed as he touched his forehead to yours.

The surprise that he would acknowledge it rocked you, but your decision stayed the same. Nodding, you glanced back at the other Dean – the real Dean – meaning to say goodbye. What you saw there made you pause: pain reflected in glassy eyes.

“It doesn’t have to be a dream,” he said, almost too quietly for you to hear.

You and your husband froze. “What did you say?” you replied, feeling your thoughts move too slowly to fully understand everything that was happening.

“I said,” Dean answered, taking a deep breath, “It doesn’t have to be a dream.”

Your husband felt you pulling away and tightened his hold on you, tugging your chin so you were looking him in the eye. “I love you, honey, and I love our life and we’re gonna live whatever the badass version of ‘happily ever after’ is, remember?” Tears blurred your view of your husband, but you could see the future with him so clearly. “Sammy and Eileen are gonna have their baby, and we’re gonna have the cutest damn niece or nephew ever, and Claire and Kaia are gonna get married, and we’re gonna do the robot at the reception and embarrass the crap outta them, and we’re gonna keep killing monsters until my knees get creaky and your back gives out, and then we’re gonna retire and help Garth with his monster rehab and teach hunter classes in the bunker, right? Maybe get a little house nearby with a porch we can sit on in the evenings and watch the sunset from our rocking chairs. That’s the plan, right?”

Foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, you both sniffled and nodded in agreement.

“Look, I can’t give you a niece or nephew, or a fancy wedding for the girls, or monster rehab and hunter classes,” Dean said from behind you, “but I can give you nights on Baby’s hood watching the stars, and bad jokes while I stitch you up, and the best bottom-shelf bourbon with a side of diner food after a bad hunt.”

Pulling away from your husband a little, you turned your head to hear Dean’s words.

“I can’t promise we’ll get a little house with a porch and a pair of rocking chairs, but I’ll chase the sunset with you in Baby any night you want. Or, if you want to stay in, we can cuddle on my memory foam and watch movies.”

The arms around you loosened, allowing you to turn around, and you could finally see the emotion in Dean’s eyes.

“I’ve wanted to be with you for so long, I can’t even tell you when it started. All I know is that I’ve always thought you deserved the best, and that’s not me.” He waved at your husband, who had let go of all of you except your hand. “He’s better than me, this world is better than me, and if he were real, if this were real, I’d let you go off and live this life without a single regret.” He shook his head, heaved a deep breath, and shrugged. “But it isn’t real – he isn’t real – and you’re not going to live happily ever after, you’re going to die, and I can’t do it. I can’t let you die if there’s anything I can do to stop it. So, this is me, asking for what I want: a future with you. A future where nothing is certain except that I’ll always do whatever I can to make you happy.”

The last link to the dream faded as you dropped your dream husband’s hand and stepped towards Dean. The world around you changed somehow, the colors turning once again to the sepia tones of the dream that it was.

“I always thought you didn’t think of me that way,” you said, your voice trembling with nerves.

“I’ve always thought of you that way,” Dean replied. “But you were so out of my league, I didn’t think you’d ever think of me like that!”

Staring into each other’s eyes, you both chuckled and then reached out towards each other, clasping your hands and moving closer together. Dean had the beginnings of a goofy smile, and you felt it matched on your own face.

“You really mean it? You really want to be with me?” you asked, needing to hear it just one more time.

“How about you shake off this dream and I show you for real?” Dean suggested, bending over, pulling your trusty knife from your boot, and handing it to you.

Holding the knife in your hand, you felt the rightness of it click into place. Dean had given you this knife shortly after you’d met. He’d picked it out with everything about you in mind. It had engravings on the blade and handle that you thought were beautiful, and the handle was a perfect size and shape for your hand. Looking at it, you marveled at how it was so perfectly you, perfectly Dean, and just all-around perfect. Dean had always loved you, and everything about the knife proved it.

“What do I need to do?”

Dean gestured towards his double standing opposite you.

The other Dean – your dream husband – began backing away. “Honey, no! It’s me! We can fix this! It will feel like a lifetime, but you’ll be safe here! No monsters can kill you here! Eileen’s gonna have a girl and that little warrior princess is gonna wrap me and Sammy around her little finger! There are gonna be tea parties! Don’t you want to see all of that?”

In his rambling, he slowed just enough that you were able to catch up to him and slam the knife into his gut. He doubled over, falling to the ground in a heap. As he bled out, still babbling about how life would have been perfect with him, the dream faded to black.

You woke with a gasp, Dean waking in a similar manner at the same time next to you. You both sat up, looking around the room and patting yourselves down. When your breathing settled, all the aches and pains from being strung up by the djinn slammed into you and you groaned.

“Oh, God, that hurts,” you complained, holding your neck where the thick gauze bandage was covering your wound. Looking down at yourself, you saw the dirty clothes and felt the skunky funk that came from being held captive in a dank basement for most of a day.

Gesturing to yourself in all your post-captivity glory, you commented to Dean, “Are you sure you still want to be with me? I mean, I’m not much of a prize.” Although you were supposedly joking, deep down you were giving Dean an out. Just in case he’d only said what he’d said to save your life, and not because he’d meant it.

Dean shifted on the bed until he was sitting right next to you and then carefully cupped your head with his hands so you could only see him.

“I will always want to be with you,” he said, solemnly looking into your eyes so you would see the truth of his words. “You are the best prize. Better than the prize in any cereal box.”

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t as flawlessly perfect as the kisses you had in your dream – your teeth clashed a little in the beginning, and Dean tasted a little like the chili lime beef jerky you didn’t like – but it was perfect for you.

#incoherent babbling by mrswhozeewhatsis #mrswhozeewhatsis writes #dean x reader #dean angst #dean fluff #pond s14 weekly challenge

[dracowars]

forbidden | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x slytherin!reader

word count: 3,6k

summary: where y/n and draco have to endure a very special type of detention

a/n: welcome to my first ever one shot. i hope you enjoy it! please let me know if there are any mistakes.

warnings: none

universe: harry potter

Honestly you weren't really surprised that Professor Snape gave Draco, Harry and Ron detention for nearly blowing up the whole potions classroom when fighting over the ground unicorn horn, an important ingredient for The Antidote to Common Poisons.

But what you weren't expecting was that Snape gave you detention as well, just because you sat in the center of it. Any attempt to convince him otherwise was useless.

And now here you were, in front of Hagrid's hut, the moon shining bright, the only light coming from the hut and your dim lanterns. You'd rather be in any other place you can think of. Everywhere except here. The sooner it ends, the better.

Yet the three idiots next to you still yelled at each other for what already feels like hours. Not even Filch nor Mrs Norris, who escorted you here after curfew, could bear their stupidity any longer, so Mr Filch knocks against Hagrid's door and runs off with a malicious giggle, but not before wishing y'all good luck, of course. You, for your part, could really need it.

"Can't believe I have to spend detention with you again, Potter", Draco spat, his voice full of disgust. The whole day he'd told you about how Harry and him already had detention in their first year at Hogwarts. That time they were lead into the Forbidden Forest and since you are now at Hagrid's hut in the middle of the night, you can already imagine exactly what your detention consists of this time.

Goosebumps spread all over your skin when you only think of the Dark Forest. Yes, you were sorted into Slytherin but that doesn't mean that you can't be afraid. You were, in fact, scared of many things but going into the Forbidden Forest was definetely very high on that list.

Draco noticed your change of behavior while listening to his story of his 11 year old brave self and suddenly had fun frightening you. Not that you were already scared enough of only the thought to go into that damned forest.

Even though he promised to protect you all the way, you were sure that when they were in first year Draco was the first to run and leave the others for death. But he would never admit that and maybe, just maybe, he actually grew up a little bit since then.

You've actually known him since you can remember. Your families, both pureblood, are very close, they even went to Hogwarts together in their time, which let to you and Draco being childhood friends. So when you went to Hogwarts yourself, you were happy to have your best friend by your side and when you got sorted into the same house, Slytherin, you couldn't have been any happier.

Eventually these long years of friendship turned into something more in your fourth year. (Maybe already earlier, you weren't quite sure.) Neither of you wanted to admit it at first but you were meant to be. Anyone could see it from a far. Everyone shipped you since first year and now, in sixth year, you are a happy couple for nearly three years with just a few minor disagreements here and there.

"Ah. The usual suspects", Hagrid mumbles as soon as he spots you after opening the heavy door, Fang, his over-sized Boarhound dog, directly running in Harry's direction. "I don't know why I thought it would be someone else. Feels just like yesterday that we went into the Forbidden Forest, right?"

Hagrid's mention of the Forbidden Forest makes shivers run down your spine right away. This reaction of your body didn't go unnoticed though and you feel the warmth of Draco's body as he scoots closer to you.

Despite Draco's cold demeanor outward, he has a very pleasent warm body temperature. You found out about this feature when you started becoming 'more than just friends' over the years. And now it is hard to imagine life without this warmth.

"I thought getting into sixth year would finally safe us these kind of detentions", Ron whines which Hagrid only response to with a laugh. "No matter what year you are in, Ron, there is nothing more beautiful like an adventurous walk through the forest in the middle of the night. Trust me", Hagrid smiles proudly. "What do we have to do this time?", Harry asks, also not very fond of the idea to go into that forest again.

Even though you were friends with Draco for so long, you actually liked the golden trio. You don't have much to do with them, only a few courses together, but you don't hate them at all. In your opinion they are actually very kind, which Draco, obviously, doesn't approve of.

"Not much, in fact. A creature was hurt last night and I really don't know which one it is. All we have to do is to find the injured creature", Hagrid explains while taking a huge crossbow, leading you right to the entrance of the forest. "Not very challenging, is it?"

"But you do know that there are werwolves in there, don't you? Besides all the other.. dangerous animals that thirst for our blood", Ron complains, while Draco seems to have laid eyes on the crossbow.

"What weapon do we get to defend ourselves?", he interupts Ron's expressed thoughts and points to the weapon, which Hagrid answers to with a sigh.

"You're a wizard. I don't think you need any other weapon than your wand, Malfoy", Hagrid scoffs and goes past him. "Now. Since I'm able to learn from my mistakes, not like others..", he mumbles the last part. "Harry and Ron, you will go this way. Draco and Y/N take the other direction. Please make sure to not hurt anyone or anything."

"A-Anything?", is the last word you hear Ron mumble as you started walking in the different direction. Or more like Draco pulling you behind him into the Dark Forest.

You tighten your black cloak around yourself as you shiver. The Forbidden Forest seems to be even scarier in the night. Even scarier than you expected it to be in general. The only sounds you can hear are your footsteps on the mud, caused by the rainy weather these days, and here and there something that sounds like a very aggressive raven.

"Snape should have just deducted our houses points and not let us go into this dumb forest again", Draco mumbles in front of you while leading the way, not really knowing where to search either. The dim warm light of the lantern he holds up makes his hair shine bright and is the only thing that makes you feel at ease a little bit. Something familiar.

A sudden crack behind you, sounding like a branch that has been stepped on, makes you stop in your tracks abruptly. "What was that, Draco?", you ask, the fear in your shaking voice clearly audible.

"Don't worry about it, love. I'm sure it was just a stupid animal. Let's go on", your boyfriend responds and takes your cold hand in his again.

As you kept going through the tall trees for a few minutes you realize that you've gotten very far into the Forbidden Forest already. All you can see now are trees and not even the moon shines through the dense leaves over your heads anymore. The thick layer of fog around you doesn't make the weird feeling in your stomach better either.

Draco keeps strolling around, searching for any evidence for an injured creature and you turn around, still feeling anxious of someone - or something - following you two.

Your heart stops as the lantern, that Draco held up seconds ago, falls to the ground with a loud crash. Your whole vision goes black and darkness surrounds you. A few bats, startled by the noise, fly away.

"Draco?!", you shout and don't dare to move a single muscle. Your breath is so slow, you don't even know if you're still breathing at all. Another sound is heard from your right and you turn around, only to face more darkness.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy! This is not funny at all! Do you hear me?!", you yell again while getting your wand out of your pocket. Pointing it forward, you quietly say: "Lumos."

As soon as the light erupts from the tip of your wand, blinding you for a brief moment, a white, light-lit face appears right in front of you.

"BOO!", the face shouts directly at you.

You let out a scream, stumble back a few steps in shock and rest your hand against your fast beating heart. The next thing you hear are the echoing laughters of your boyfriend.

"You should've seen your face!", Draco laughs and throws his head back. You swallow heavily and take a few moments to calm yourself down, a tear on the edge of falling. "I hate you so much!", you yell at him and hit his shoulder a few times as anger replaces your fear. "You know exactly how scared I am, dumbass!"

"I could not not take this opportunity, love", he giggles, making the blood in your veins boil. But before you can scold him any further, he stops laughing all of a sudden and his suddenly widend eyes are locked on a point directly behind you. "Y/N.. Don't turn around, okay? Don't move", he whispers and points behind you with a slight head movement.

"I'm not that pathetic, Draco. I'm not gonna fall for that again", you roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest while turning around. As soon as you did, it feels like all life left your body at once.

Two round yellow eyes, emerging from the sinister undergrowth, are directly fixed on you. A small cone of moonlight falls through the rustling leaves as a slight breeze passes and the creature in front of you turns out to be a werewolf.

Your breath gets caught in your throat as the wild creature comes closer, snarling. "RUN, Y/N!", Draco's loud shout makes you flinch and he grabs your hand, knowing that it is too late to not make any noise, pulling you closely behind him. You nearly stumble over all the sticking out, large roots on the ground but the adrenaline that rushes through your body makes you run as fast as you can.

"Stupefy!", Draco casts the Stunning Spell and shoots it at the creature while running. A jet of red light emerges from his wand but misses the werewolf by a few centimeters. It is now catching up with you even faster than before. "Damn it!", Draco curses.

Your legs already start hurting from how fast you were running. You see a dim light between the trees in front of you and a glimmer of hope runs through you. As you get closer by every second you realize that it's not Hagrid, as you hoped, but none other than Ron and Harry. The confusion is clearly written on their faces.

"RUN!", you tell them, grabbing their hands as you pass them to pull both of them with you. It doesn't take them long to realize what you were running away from.

"Bloody hell!", Ron whimpers beside you and lets the lantern fall to the ground. By now the four of you lost every sense of direction and the only thing that keeps you from giving up is to not get torn into pieces.

Again you take a look back over your shoulder to see how close the wolf has come and in this exact moment of unwariness, you trip over and fall to the ground with a cry. Immediately you try to straighten up but a sharp pain runs through your body and leaves you whimpering in pain.

"Stupefy!", Harry now attacks the beast and actually hits it this time. The wolf falls back a few meters through the air and lands on the ground with a thump, motionless.

"Y/N! Stand up, come on!", Draco helps you up and notices your pained expression. From that moment on your fear is reflected in his eyes. He bends down and frantically picks you up in his arms. Unfortunately, the werewolf has recovered from the spell quickly and is running towards you again, growling and barking dangerously.

But before you can escape this time, another creature that you can't really make out because of the darkness at first, suddenly throws itself on the wolf, fighting a bitter fight with it. You can only stand there and watch in shock.

"Buckbeak!", you can hear Hagrid's voice from the distance and the majestic hippogriff lets go of the much smaller animal, which is now also winzing in pain and then finally leaves you alone.

"What did you do?! How did this happen?", Hagrid scolds you as soon as he arrives, his eyes fixed on Draco immediately. You bite your lower lip to hold back tears as you let yourself sink down from Draco's arms and onto the ground with his help.

"The werewolf attacked us out of nowhere", you explain with a quiet voice and touch your ankle, regretting it right away as you hiss in pain. "It was noone's fault, Hagrid."

"This is exactly the reason why students shouldn't go into the Forbidden Forest, you-", Draco aggressivly starts but you pull on his sleeve, making him look at you. His facial expression softens at your action.

Buckbeak stands close behind Hagrid and observes the situation curiously. Hagrid sighs loudly, his breath becoming visible in the cold air of the night, and pets Buckbeak gently.

"Fine. Let's get you out of here first and then we will look at the damage", Hagrid suggests and Draco and Harry help you stand up again. "I c-can't walk", you hiss after placing your injured foot on the ground, withdrawing it straight away.

"Come here, Y/N. Buckbeak will help", Hagrid waves you over to him and before any second thoughts could cross your mind, you were already seated on the hippogriff's back. While you're still busy with getting comfortable on the creature you unexpectedly feel a pair of hands sneak around your waist closly from behind. Draco had jumped onto Buckbeak as well, with Hagrid's permission of course, and whispers an apology in your ear.

Finally you are able to relax a little while you feel Draco's chest against your back. A cozy warmth emanates from him that has always made you feel at ease and the cold air surrounding you makes it even more comfortable.

With a whistle from Hagrid Buckbeak sets itself in motion and leads you out of the forest, directly back to Hagrid's hut. You had completely lost every sense of time while you were in there. While to you it seems like several hours have passed, it was probably just one.

Draco jumps off in front of the hut and helps you get down, his grip very strong on your hip. You gently stroke over the soft head of the hippogriff and smile weakly at it.

Draco doesn't waste any time and takes you to the warm hut, where he seats you down on one of the chairs and carefully places your leg on his thigh. While watching your boyfriend take care of you so caringly and gently - a side not everyone knows of him - you don't even notice that a few tears finally found their way over your cheeks, which you were able to hold back before. Everything that happened tonight hits you all at once in this moment.

Eventually, Draco's gaze meets yours and he immediately pulls you into a warm, firm and loving hug. "I am so so sorry, love. I shouldn't have scared you. If I hadn't been this stupid, then we wouldn-", he stumbles over his words but you place your index finger on his lips softly. "I'm okay, Draco", you smile at him, even though your ankle doesn't feel anywhere near okay.

"I told Madam Pomfrey what happened and she will be able to heal it quickly, and even though she wasn't very happy that I asked for her help at this hour, she would like to see you at the Hospital Wing", Hagrid tells you as he comes back into his hut, Ron and Harry curiously looking past Hagrid and at you. The guilt is clearly written on Hagrid's face.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help but somehow I just couldn't come up with the right spell!", Ron rants while he and Harry approach you. "How about we help you get into that hospital wing?", Harry offers their help with a smile, which you gladly agree to. Draco on the other hand throws a disapproving look at him, his protective boyfriend instincts very active after what happened today.

Still, he lets Harry help him get you out. Your arms are each wrapped around their shoulders so that you can at least hobble and not have to be carried.

"I will talk to Professor Dumbledore about getting rid of these kind of detentions", Hagrid utters, looking to the ground in shame. Buckbeak senses Hagrid's sadness and lays his head on his arm. Releasing your arm from Draco purposely to tap Hagrid's shoulder soothingly, Draco holds you tightly at your waist in an instant, still afraid that you could lose balance any second and fall again.

"Please don't worry, Hagrid. It's not your fault", you try to cheer him up. "Thank you and also you, Buckbeak." At the mention of his name, Buckbeak turns to you and it almost looks like he actually understood what you said, lowering his head a little as if he would bow.

"I hate to admit it but I guess I have to thank that.. chicken of yours as well, Hagrid", Draco clears his throat. "Thank you for rescuing us."

You know exactly how difficult it is for Draco to thank someone. He rarely does, only because he never really learned how. However, the few times he actually does, you can't help but feel warmer inside. This is what distinguishs him from the evil guys.

With these last words and a nod from Hagrid's side, Draco leads the way into the building and they help you to the first floor, Ron opening the doors for you. You arrive at the Hospital Wing, where Harry and Ron seperate from you and go back to their common room.

Madam Pomfrey treats your sprained ankle and only half an hour later you are dismissed from the Hospital Wing. It feels like you've never hurt yourself in the first place, but Madam Pomfrey still wants you to rest and take care of yourself. Your boyfriend clearly agreed to that and insisted on carrying you back to the Slytherin common room, where you arrived only seconds ago.

It is already so late in the night that not a single soul is in the faint green room, everyone fast asleep for hours in their comfortable beds. You feel exhausted after this eventful night and tiredness is slowly overcoming you.

"Where do you think you are going?", Draco's determining voice asks you with a hint of reproach when you were just about to make your way to the girls' dormitories. "To sleep?", you deadpenned.

"You won't go anywhere except my prefect room. Oh, and you will most certainly not go", he commands and before you know it, you're in his strong arms again and on the way to his room. If the way wasn't so short though, you could have fallen asleep right there in his arms, your cheek on his shoulder and one hand against his warm chest.

Despite telling him that you are fine for the tenth time now, he still insists on taking care of you. He borrows you your favorite sweater of his - although you don't quite understand how it found its way back into his closet because the last time you checked it has been in your room - and softly puts you to bed under the thick dark green covers out of silk.

What you don't know, however, is how much he actually blames himself for what happend tonight. He feels guilty because it should have hit him and not you. After all, he accidentally lured the werewolf into your direction by frightening you. He knew you were scared, you told him before. Nevertheless he thought it was funny to scare you. And now you got hurt because of him.

He climbs in beside you and pulls you closely to him, your arm wrapped over his waist and your head on his chest. He gently runs his fingertips over your delicate skin and through your hair. You feel his steady heartbeat beneath you, softly inhale his scent and close your eyes.

"I love you so much, Y/N. I'm sorry for everything", Draco whispers barely audible and places a kiss on your forehead, then another one on your temple. "I love you too, Draco", you absently smile and put your hand on his jaw, lift your head slightly and then give him a kiss on his chapped lips. "And please stop apologizing, alright? It was not your fault."

You can clearly see that he thinks about whether or not to reply but you beat him to it. "Listen. I don't blame you at all. It was a misfortune, nothing more and nothing less. All I need is your company right now. I need you by my side, Draco. Always", you explain and give him a genuine smile in hopes to make him feel better and to finally stop blaming himself.

He replies with an equally genuine smile and gives you one last kiss before he pulls you even closer, as if he's scared of losing you. Still, after your kind words, he actually feels better now and he smiles to himself when noticing your quiet snoring.

And that night Draco definetely made sure you wouldn't have any nightmares at all.

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