#so when dapper says ‘you tried to replace me?’

[qnpc04]

this clip makes my heart ache so bad and i don’t even know how to explain why it’s just fusosodldk

#it’s something about the ‘because he loved you’ #like etoiles was there y’know ?? #he was there when bad lost his color #he saw how upset and broken bad was without dapper #how desperate he was to get him back #he was a witness and a victim to what bad did in purgatory #so when dapper says ‘you tried to replace me?’ #of course etoiles who has seen everything intervenes #and dapper may never know the extent to what his father has done or how he has suffered without him #but that’s ok too bc all he needs to know is that he’s Loved #qsmp #etoiles #badboyhalo

[shikai-the-storyteller]

For everyone asking "What do you MEAN Cucurucho might've been reset / replaced / had his memory erased?!?!" we actually have strong evidence that this has happened at least once.

Roier had a very close playful relationship with Cucurucho in the beginning of the series. However, on Day 4, Roier and Cucurucho have a fight and Roier (half-jokingly) says “You know what Osito Bimbo, you know what? I’m tired of you treating me badly. You and I are no longer friends,” and dramatically logs out.

This is the last time we see "our" Cucurucho.

On Day 5, Cucurucho left Roier this message:

Translation: 0037 [Roier's ticket #] Through this I want to express my most sincere apologies for treating you as a slave. We are sorry for any discomfort I may have caused you. We hope you continue to enjoy the island at its best. You won’t see me, but I will see you. Best regards, Federal QSMP Commission

There are a few things weird about this message, namely the fact that it's signed by the Federal QSMP Commission. (It's worth noting that upon seeing this message, Roier says “No! No!!! I want to keep seeing you Osito!” and responds to that message with "Hello my dear Osito Bimbo :) I like you, please keep showing up. And that’s all, uwu."

Day 10:

Cucurucho comes back, but he isn't the same. Cucurucho keeps his distance from Roier, refusing to answer his questions or acknowledge why he hasn't been visiting like usual.

Roier: Do you not like me anymore?

Cucurucho: …

Roier: Do you not like me anymore? I thought we… I thought we were buddies.

Cucurucho: Maybe. I don’t know.

[ A short time later, Roier sings and does a little dance for Cucurucho that he's done before ]

Roier: – And that’s how it went. Huh? Don’t you remember? How come you don’t remember? Those were good times, when we spent time together! How come you don’t remember? Remember!!!!

Cucurucho: I don’t know. (It repeats this several times)

Roier begs him not to leave again, refusing to abandon him even when Cucurucho fires several warning shots. Eventually Cucurucho runs off where Roier can't follow.

Day 32:

Roier encounters Cucurucho, and yet again asks Cucurucho why he stopped visiting. [Timestamp: 2h 41m]

Roier: Where were you all that time? Why did you stop talking to me? Why did you leave my life?

Cucurucho: Classified.

Roier: Cucurucho, Cucurucho, Osito Bimbo, why did you stop talking to me? [...] Did you leave because you had to, or did you leave because they made you? What happened?

Cucurucho: …

Roier: I already know what happened, I know what happened. It was Mariana, Mariana bothered you and told you, “YOU LIKE ROIER, you like him, you like Roier!” Right? Was that it?

Cucurucho: [ Turns away and hangs its head ]

When Cucurucho starts to leave at the arrival of Bad and Dapper, Roier says: "If you want to leave, you can leave if you don’t love me anymore, it’s ok."

But Cucurucho stays (that is, until Bad starts being a "nosy gossip" and tries to get too close to see what's happening).

Day 34:

Roier has a private conversation with Bobby sharing his thoughts on the sudden change he's seen in Cucurucho. [Timestamp: 3h 57m 45s]

"I think Cucurucho is sad. It’s just that, I remember I used to hang out with him a lot when I first came to this Island. I hung out with him a lot. He always came to see me and help me. But from one moment to the next, I realize that he had changed. He stopped being so kind to me."

A lot of people theorize that the inhabitants of the Island have missing memories because of the Federation (which has been more or less confirmed since so many of them can't remember things that happened before coming to Quesadilla Island), and with this information, I think it's safe to say that they aren't the only ones whose minds have been messed with.

So the question is: is this really our Cucurucho, or has he been replaced? Or has he merely had his memory wiped over and over again? And if his memory  was wiped: why? Is it because he upset an Islander, or is it because he's becoming too fond of Roier, and the Federation is worried that might affect Cucurucho’s ability to do his job?

If you're interested in learning more about the strange interactions Roier has had with Cucurucho, look here! I've compiled all of them since Day 1.

#QSMP #Cucurucho #Osito Bimbo #Roier #QSMP info #meant to post this like 2 hours ago but got caught up in today's lore WHOOPS #night y'all

[pics-and-fanfics]

Oops?

Pairing: Friend!Loki x F!Reader

Warnings: Reader is about 15! Tony is a shitty dad, dirty talk, slight violence, people being… inappropriate (mainly men), dumb jokes and stupid nicknames, light cursing, mentions of attempted SA and attempted rape

Summary: You dad, Tony Stark, made you go to a gala with him and the other Avengers, where you get into a little trouble…

Find my other works here!

You took a sip of your apple cider, wishing you hadn’t been forced to come to this stupid party. You glare at the back of your dads head, wishing you could drill a hole into a skull. You didn’t want to be here, and last time you’d come to one, you’d gotten in so much trouble.

Spilling juice on a guest, knocking over a table full of food, and accidentally unplugging the sound system when you tripped over a cord.

Yeah, not fun being grounded for 2 weeks because of all that. “Enjoying yourself, my lady?” Loki asks, and you whirl around, the skirt of your dress flaring. You smile, shoving his shoulder before giving him a side hug.

“Why, good evening, dickhead!” you say, and Loki laughs. “Wow, you really clean up well. Look at you, all dapper and shit. Looks nice on you, Lokes.” You see Loki smile, and you cross your eyes at him, making him laugh again.

“You look very nice yourself, m’lady. I see you got a new dress.” You snort, leaning back on the counter, taking a sip out of your sparkling apple cider. “Against my will. I didn’t even wanna come. These are always so dumb, dad remembers what happened last time he dragged me to one.”

“What happened?” Natasha asks, suddenly at your other shoulder, making you screech, putting a hand to your chest. “Oh my god, don’t do that!” you say taking a deep breath.

“What happened last time?” Natasha asks again, and you groan.

“Accidentally unplugged the sound system after I tripped, flipped over a table trying to hide, and spilled my juice on a very disgruntled man who demanded that I, a 7 year old, pay to replace his suit.” you say, listing them off with your fingers. “At least, that’s what I remember. Yeah, I got grounded for 2 weeks.”

“Alright, I’m gonna go beat Tony up-“ “No!” you say, grabbing Nat’s arm before she could stalk off. “It’s fine.”

🍾🤬

“I’ll give you three seconds to apologize before I make you need to go to a hospital.” you say, flipping your bottle upside down and catching the neck.

“Pfft, as if I would apologize when I know that’s what you want.”

“One.”

“Oh wah, did you not expect that? Come on baby-“

“TWO.”

“I know you’ll love it, your pretty little lips wrapped around my-“

SMACK!

The sound echoes throughout the ballroom, then a dull thud as the man hits the floor. You look down at him, hitting his leg with the heel of your stilettos.

“Hahahahahaha, I’m sure everything’s fine- Y/n what did you do?” Your father asks, and you crinkle your face.

“I only gave him what he deserved, Daddy. Such a vile man shouldn’t be around children, I’m sure his wife would love to know that.” you say, raising your voice. “He tried to rape me.”

You saw the way his face fell, then anger filled his eyes with fire. “He what, honey?”

“I believe his exact words were, and I quote, ‘Come on baby, I know you’ll love it, your pretty little lips wrapped around my fat cock while I fuck your throat until you can’t speak for a week.’” You see Loki stalking towards you through the crowd, people moving out of his way, almost like the air around him was poison.

“Are you alright?” Loki asked when he reached you, looking you over. If there was so much as a scratch on his best friend, he may just end back up in the dungeons on Asgard.

“Oh no, I’m fine. But he’s probably not.” you say, and Loki looks down as you kick the man for good measure. “Didn’t know an apple cider bottle would do that much, though. Would’ve thought it’d take a few more hits to knock him out. Which would have let me beat his face in with no consequences, but oh well.”

Your last three words were higher pitched, almost like you were upset. Oh wait, you should be, this man just tried to rape you. Yes, Loki was about to commit an act of murder.

🍾🤬

You didn’t get in trouble, you were actually applauded for defending yourself.

You flop down on your couch back at the Tower, sitting next to Loki. You’d finally gotten out of the dress, and changed into a pair of shorts and a baggy shirt. Within seconds you were snoring.

Loki smiles, shaking his head as he went back to his book. Some things never change.

🍾🤬

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and I’m glad I got this shit off my brain. It seems as if all I’ve done today is think of writing, but I’ve only written two things! Don’t forget to lmk if u wanna be tagged in the future! (Ignore the fact I’m being lazy I wrote this at 7 and I wanna read. tryna finish quicker)

@vbecker10 @silverfire475 @huntress-artemis @vickie5446 @sheris532 @lokixryss @lokidokieokie @stupidthoughtsinwriting @crimson25 @peaches1958 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose

#loki x you #loki #loki fan fic #sas #loki god of mischief #marvel #marvel fanfic #fluff #angst #fanfiction

[valpus-writing]

Puppet blood

So I couldn't control myself and now we have this. Blame @esculentevil for everything as it is its fault. Just a warning this, this kinda got away from me and just barely can be put here, More spicy version will be on AO3 when done Part 1/7

Enjoy

The gun between the two meant nothing. Anti knew it as he stared at Jameson. The mustached man's hands were shaking, something that didn’t happen often, which made the rifle in his hands shake as well. He didn't, couldn’t, say anything, not that words needed to be spoken. The gun was a warning, don’t step closer it screamed. Not that the virus would listen. 

“Now, now puppet..” Anti’s voice was smooth, calming and it shouldn’t have been. Green eyes stared into Jameson’s soul like he was nothing more than a doll, a puppet meant to come to his masters every wish and command. The virus watched as the human's eyes screwed shut, the gun firing moments later, though the bullet ended up nothing more than a hole in the wall. 

Jameson felt him before he heard him. A hand around his waist pulling him against a body that was too warm to be human and a hand in his hair pulling it harshly so his head was held back against the monster’s shoulder, neck exposed. “Put the gun down Jamie,” The virus muttered and the human couldn’t help but give in. Even if he wanted to fight, and he did want to fight right? He couldn’t his head filling with static making it feel like this was all a dream.

Anti nosed at Jameson’s neck taking a deep breath in savoring the smell of his food. Jameson smelt like fresh cut wood and sawdust, signs he had been working on making new puppets, along with that almost sour smell that came from wood glue, and of course now gunpowder. 

“I don’t have to be cruel you know, if you just listen, relax, you won’t die.” The monster muttered softly, placing a kiss against the human’s neck and Anti could feel his racing heart beat against his lips. “After all, how could I kill my favorite puppet?” He purred this time peppering Jameson’s neck in soft kisses, playing with his food. 

The dapper man tried to struggle but his limbs felt too heavy. Everything felt too heavy, and the more this went on the more TV static replaced his thoughts. 

“That’s it, relax, I’ll take care of everything you know I will.” The hand that was around Jameson’s waist moved up, undoing buttons of his vest. He didn’t think about it though he didn’t think about much as his eyes started to gloss over. “There we go~” Anti purred, kissing Jameson’s cheek before making his way down his neck dragging his teeth gently against the skin but not enough to break it, not yet at least. Once the vest was open he undid the top buttons of Jameson’s shirt and his tie before pulling back his shirt exposing the crook of his neck where he bit down. 

Jameson’s mouth opened in a silent cry of pain as the monster's teeth easily cut through his skin, warm blood filling Anti’s mouth. Jameson’s blood tasted a lot like most human’s blood, metallic with a soft sweetness to it that was more of an after taste then anything else.

When Anti pulled back from the bite he licked at the blood that pooled up from the wound. “My pretty, pretty puppet.” He purred before kissing Jameson forcing to human to taste his own blood on the monsters lips.

#jacksepticegos #writing #jse egos #jameson jackson #jse anti #jse #jse fandom #my writing #antisepticeye #scenting #mind control #static #blood #biting #Antisepticeye/Jamesone Jackson #idk their ship name #Anti x Jameson #Anti/JJ #fanfiction #AntiDapper #Anti scenting chronicals

[iridecsense]

𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘭𝘦 - 𝘮.

⤷ summary: “You’re blue, I'm red, I wanna kiss your neck and make you purple all over.”

ꕥ word count: 33.7k ꕥ pairing: credence barebone | fem!reader  ꕥ genre: fluff, angst, smut ꕥ rating: 18+ ꕥ warnings: mentions of physical and religious abuse, mild violence and angst ꕥ kinks: femdom, masturbation ꕥ author’s note:  Credence’s first time requested by anonymous. Experimenting a new writing style with this one, I hope you still like it! This is very soft, but also sinful. I always suggest using Interactive Fics extension on Google Chrome and Firefox when reading my fics. Enjoy. ;) ꕥ key: (y/n) - first name (l/n) - last name (e/c) - eye color (h/c) - hair color (s/c) - skin color

There are very few moments in life worth living for. Most things in life are mundane and repetitive. Humans aren’t as complex as they like to think. Humans are simple. Without realizing, it they put themselves into a routine. Eat, work, sleep, repeat. Eat, sleep, work, repeat. Eat, sleep, work, repeat.

Albert Einstein once said, “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results.” And yet, most humans never fall into insanity. How is it humanity survives such a dreary existence? The answer itself is simple. It is because despite living simple, tedious, monotonous lives, they still have those few moments.

Credence wanted nothing more than to experience one of these moments. Life for Credence was human. It repeated on an infinite loop, no matter how much he prayed for it to stop. Unlike most people’s lives, Credence’s routine wasn’t something to accept comfortably. There was no eat, sleep, work, repeat for him. His day started with an unsavory meal. It was usually porridge or stale bread. Then he would go out and hand out his “mother’s” flyers while she ranted in the streets. After that, they’d return to the orphanage where he’d surely get beat for doing something wrong. After being denied dinner, he would return to his room and cry silently in his bed, trying to dream of a life better than the one he lived. Then repeat.

Today was supposed to be no different. Today, Credence would have to hand out flyers around Times Square until nightfall. He hated handing out flyers in Times Square. It was bright, loud, and crowded, and the rich people from The Eggs always came down to shop and attend the cinema.

Rich people are assholes.

For the most part, Credence was invisible amidst the hustle and bustle of the square. People were too busy chatting amongst themselves or rushing to the nearest store or restaurant to even bat an eye at him. He didn’t mind it. He welcomed invisibility with open arms. Being seen usually ended with new bruises and scars. That's what happens when you’re an outsider, and Credence was an outsider in every sense of the word. He was an outsider to the rich people that pushed past him on the sidewalk, an outsider to the orphanage, and an outsider to himself. 

So, the lowly outsider stood hunched over in the middle of the sidewalk next to a cinema. Above him was a large marquee lit up by five hundred flashing bulbous lights. Mobs of people dappered up in evening dresses and suits, tipping their fedoras and clutching their mink coats excitedly entered the theatre. Credence looked at the flyers in his hands. Mary Lou gave him three hundred flyers to give out, and he barely gave out thirty. Most of the ones he did manage to force into someone’s hand ended up on the ground not ten feet away from him. They couldn't even bother to find a trash can. He wouldn’t dare return home with such a disappointing turnout.

The sun had long since set. The roar of the night became corrupted with wealthy party-goers. The Square was alive with chatter and street music. The streets were filled with intoxicated drivers flashing their fancy topless automobiles and the pretty women that shouted inside them. It was rather scenic, and Credence often found himself staring longingly at all the people whose lives seemed much happier than his own. It was one of the few ways he could pass the time.

He would watch couples walk the street hand in hand, seemingly in love. The woman would occasionally point out something on display she fancied and sweetly coherence her partner to buy it for her—to which they always did. He would observe a gang of college gentlemen around his age hop from bar to bar, obnoxiously laughing and roughhousing in the streets, cat-calling passing dames. In his mind, he was one of them. He pretended he lived in a world where he wasn’t an orphan and grew up in a wealthy family. He would have a mother who loved him and a father who was proud of him. He would go to college and make friends with other boys. Maybe he’d fall in love with a girl along the way. Someone sweet to please the folks back home. Then it would be him parading down the streets with a pretty girl around his arms in Times Square, and some other poor guy would be miserable in his place.

As his eyes wandered the streets, watching the snippets of other people's lives and inserting himself in them, his eyes landed on her across the street. She stepped onto the sidewalk in front of a boutique. Her hair fell around her shoulders in waves, neatly placed under a velvet green beret. She had on a slim fitting wool coat with mink trim over a lace-covered silk dress that shined in the night’s light. When she began to walk, his eyes followed her down the street like magnets. The way she seemed to carry herself was unlike the others around her. She wasn’t pink with liquor, stumbling in her heels on the pavement. Each step she took was one of elegance and confidence. He couldn't look away.

“Hey, watch it, punk!”

Credence found himself shoved to his hands and knees on the ground, the flyers in his hands dispersing in the air around him. He winced in pain and looked up to see a man angrily peering down at him.

“Watch where you’re goin’, freak!” The man cursed at him.

Credence kept his head down. “I’m sorry, sir.”

The man sucked his teeth and purposely stepped on some flyers in front of him as he walked by, pressing them into the wet sidewalk. Only when he was sure the man had gone did he find it safe to move. He ignored the soreness in the palms of his hands and tried his best to salvage as many flyers as he could. Passersby couldn't have cared less about the papers they ripped and crumpled under their perfectly pointed shoes. He picked up what little there was left unscathed—about a hundred at least. He was lucky most of them were still stacked together. He went to collect the last salvageable stack across from him when another pair of (s/c) dainty hands reached for them.

Credence’s eyes landed on a pair of green pumps pointed at him. His eyes trailed up past long legs shielded from the cold by nude stockings, green silk, and tawny fur until they met painted red lips and glossy (e/c) eyes. Up close, she was much more captivating. He could now make out her soft, round features and see how her (h/c) curls perfectly framed her face. Her cheeks were dusted a lush red. Whether it was from the early winter chill, or a detail of her makeup was unknown. Either way, she was stunning. It took him longer than it should have for him to notice the flyers she was holding out for him to take.

Credence awkwardly stumbled to his feet, keeping his eyes trained on the tips of her shoes to avoid her gaze. Even in his slouched state, he towered over her, but somehow he still appeared small.

“I saw that.” Her warm voice filled his ears, catching him off guard.

He lifted his head to look at her once more. “What?”

The girl looked in the direction the man from earlier had left and frowned.  “The prick who knocked you over was half-seas over! He could barely tell his left foot from his right! If he had, he would have seen that it was his fault knocking you to the ground like that.”

Credence didn’t know what to say. That was the most anyone had ever said to him without spewing insults his way. Even more peculiar was that the strange girl talking to him was trying to defend him. His awkward speechlessness didn’t seem to phase her in the slightest. Instead, her targeted vexed expression relaxed into a warm smile.

She urged the flyers towards him once more. “Sorry about your papers. I don’t think there’s much left to save.”

He carefully took the papers from her hands, noting how perfectly manicured her nails were. “It’s okay... thank you.”

“No need to thank me. No sense in being praised for common decency, right?”

Credence found himself speechless. He wasn't sure how to respond to such a statement. It was definitely something he should be grateful for. Most people wouldn’t look twice at him struggling on the street, let alone go out of their way to help.

The girl spoke through his silence. “You don’t talk much, do you?” She chuckled.

He shamefully bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” she quickly assured him. “Sometimes, I think people talk too much. I don’t think people should say things they don’t need to, otherwise, words lose all valuable meaning. You know what I mean?”

He nodded slowly. “I think so.”

She seemed pleased with his answer, her smile growing ever so slightly. It wasn’t long before it was replaced with another frown. Unlike before, this wasn’t a frown of annoyance, but concern. Her brows turned upward and her red lips parted to let out a sharp gasp. She looked at him clearly for the first time, her eyes wandered over his slender form and taking in his appearance.

“Goodness! Aren’t you cold?” She asked, her voice laced with worry.

Credence shrugged half-heartedly. He was used to the cold by now. He only had a handful of clothes to begin with. He didn't have the luxury of having clothes that match the changing weather, he could only wear whatever clothes fit him from the donation pile. The warmest garment he obtained this winter was an old navy blue suit best designed for autumn’s chill, but useless against winter’s cold. She found it hard to believe he stayed in the cold for so long without freezing to death. Credence thought that was a bit of an exaggeration. It was a particularly cold November night, enough to keep the patches of ice and snow that had been shoveled to the gutters intact. With every shaky breath he took, a puff of white mist would follow. His nose and the tips of his ears were permanently colored red and, given his natural pale complexion, made him look rather sickly. But, he bore through it because he had experienced far worse.

Without warning, the girl took the liberty of placing her palms on the back of his hands. The gentle action was so alien, he flinched when he felt her warm skin.

“Your hands are like ice!” She gasped. “They’re two degrees short from falling off!”

It must have been true because the feeling of her hands was enough to send a fiery warmth throughout his body. Such affection was so foreign to him, he began to doubt it really happened. It wouldn't have been the first time his mind played tricks on him. Perhaps he was home in his bed, lucidly dreaming about a chance encounter with a pretty woman. In a moment, he would wake up, and the warm feeling of a woman’s touch would turn cold, and he’d find himself alone in his room again.

His theory was swiftly disproven when he felt her hands gently squeeze his. As if she had the brightest idea of the decade, the woman’s face lit up.

She took a step closer. “Say, why don’t I get you some tea to warm you up? There’s a coffee shop still open a few blocks away—I could drive you in my Ford!”

Credence blushed and swallowed. His eyes darted around nervously. “I’m not sure I should...” He mumbled.

“We can stand here in the streets like a couple of gulls if you’d like, but I’m not going to leave you out here to freeze, so you might as well say yes,” she smirked.

He wanted to say yes. But there was a voice inside him that warned him not to go. It was the same nagging tone Mary Lou barked in his ear. His mind spiraled, spewing scenarios of his adopted mother’s fury. He should be home by now. She never liked it when he returned home late. She would beat him again. She might even ice him—something she did when she was truly furious with him. The thought of it made his blood run cold.

“I-I can’t,” he stammered. “M-Mother is expecting me home—she’ll be wondering where I am.”

The woman’s once playful expression slowly faded. Her brows gathered at the center of her forehead and her smile faded. Credence was trembling and stuttering, helplessly trying to explain why he had to return home. His words slurred together into a tremulous speech. Passing pedestrians gave patronizing stares, actively avoiding the pair and whispering amongst themselves. The woman placed a comforting hand on Credence’s shoulder, silencing him almost immediately.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” She said softly. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to upset you by it.”

She looked him in his eyes and offered a kind smile. There was a skip of his heart. A strange feeling weighed in his chest he had never felt before.

“Why don’t I drive you?” She suggested. “That way you can be home twice as fast!”

Credence took a moment to think about it. He found it increasingly impossible to say no. Against his better judgment, he found himself wanting to extend their encounter, if even just for a minute. He had the smallest inference that if he said no, it would disappoint her. The thought of disappointing her was something he didn't want to do. He felt obligated to appease her. She had shown him a kindness that he may never get again. He thought he could at least keep her pleased.

“Okay,” he relented.

The girl grinned up at him and linked her arm around his. His cheeks grew warm, and he tucked his chin to his chest to hide his blush. Not that she would notice either way. She gingerly led him down the street, trying to engage him with small talk. He tried to listen, but he would get distracted whenever he felt her chest brush up against him. She was so close and so warm. Her touch burned through the thin material of his jacket and made his skin tingle. He could smell her perfume, like lavender and vanilla.

Such an alluring scent it was. It smelled familiar and sweet in its flowery nature. It reminded him of the transition from spring to summer, when the flowers became the most vibrant and fruit ripened to perfect sweetness. He wished he could smell it every day. It would be a refreshing change from the stench of mildew and boiled cabbage he often smelled. He wondered if she always smelled so sweet.

“So, what’s with the pamphlets? Are you a part of that Second Salemers organization?” she asked, pulling him out of his fantasies. He looked down at her and saw her looking up at him expectedly. He couldn’t help but grow hot with embarrassment.

“Y-yes,” he answered.

“Really? So, you believe in witches?” She teasingly wiggled her fingers in his face.

"My mother does,” He answered.

“How interesting,” she thought aloud. “I can’t say that I believe in witches, but if they do exist I wouldn’t mind.”

“You wouldn’t?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I mean, they’re human like us, right? People tend to demonize things they don’t understand. Just because they’re different doesn't mean we have to fear or prosecute them. I think we should embrace each other’s differences and learn to appreciate them, rather than forcing everyone to assimilate to one idea of normalcy. If we do that, then no one would be unique. We’d all be the same.”

He listened closely as she spoke. He was absolutely fascinated by her. It was rather profound, the way she thought. Most people would disagree with her sentiments, especially his mother. The world Credence knew was built on a system of separation. A system that separated classes, races, sexes, and the able-bodied—a system he was a victim to. Never once had he met someone who desired to rid of it just as much as he did, and he certainly didn’t expect to hear such scrutiny from someone who seemed to benefit from it.

When she finished her societal criticism, she stopped in her tracks and craned her neck up to face Credence.

“Excuse my rambling,” she flushed. “I talk nonsense when I go deep in thought. Don’t mind me, I probably sound crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Credence spoke up. “I wish everyone thought the way you think.”

Their eyes locked in a moment of tenderness. His bold sentiments were enough to make her heart skip a beat; unbeknownst to him. Their intimate trance was broken when a passing car flashed its blinding lights in their eyes, causing the girl to release her grip around Credence’s arm. The loss of contact made his arm feel too light; as if someone had taken a piece of his arm away.

The girl let out a sheepish chuckle. “Well, this is it,” she said as she walked over to the luxurious motor car parked on the side of the street. Luxurious seemed like an insult of a descriptor for the magnificent opulence of the machine. The streetlight illuminated the pearl-colored metal that matched the white-rimmed tires. Gold embellishments lined the rim. Tawny leather seats contrasted the exterior and matched the fabric roof. It was something Credence had only seen in advertisements.

“She’s a bit much, right?”

Credence hadn’t realized how apparent the astonishment written on his face was. He expected the girl to laugh at him, but the girl didn’t find joy in his culture shock. She was nervous, as if she were ashamed of her possession, like he had just discovered her most shameful secret.

“She was a gift from my father,” she felt the need to explain. “It’s not that I’m ungrateful or anything, I truly am. It’s just that I would never have bought something so ritzy for myself.”

“I like it,” said Credence.

His words seemed to relax her otherwise tense demeanor. “I’m glad you do,” she smiled as she opened the door. He watched her slide into the driver's seat. He approached the machine cautiously, eyeing the foreign object skeptically. The girl watched him closely, an amused smirk curling her lips.

“You’ve never ridden in a car before, have you?” She asked. Credence shook his head.

“I promise there’s nothing to worry about,” she chuckled. “I happen to be an excellent driver. My father wouldn’t have given me one so expensive if I wasn’t.”

This was true. Such a beautiful car wouldn’t be gifted to someone who would evidently wreck it. The girl pats the empty passenger seat invitingly, urging him to get inside.

Credence slid into the passenger seat, the cool leather seeping through the thin fabric of his suit, sending shivers down his spine.

“Here.” The girl reached in the back seat of the car and pulled out a large grey blanket. “The car will get warmer as we drive, but this should be good for now.”

Credence placed his papers on his lap and reached for the blanket.

“Wait,” she stopped him, a small frown appearing on her features. “You’re bleeding.”

Credence followed her stare to his left hand. He turned his palm upward to find the healing wounds on his palms had reopened. He didn’t notice the sting of the cuts before, but now his hand burned with the slightest movement. He couldn’t help but feel exposed. He hated his hands. They were ugly. Permanently blemished with raised scars that formed from healing and reopening and healing and reopening at contact with his mother's belt. It was unsightly. He shied away from her, mortified. She must’ve found them just as repulsive.

But the girl didn’t seem phased by his calloused and scarred hands at all. She didn’t hesitate to reach inside her breast pocket and pull out a pink handkerchief to wrap around Credence’s hand. Again he could feel her warmth. Her soft hands caressed his skin, pulling him closer. She handled him gently, delicately folding and wrapping the silk fabric around his cuts. She glanced at him as she did so, only to find him avoiding her gaze with his chin tucked into his shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” he muttered as she tended to him.

“You’re sorry?” She let out a breathy chuckle. “And what are you sorry for, exactly?”

“I-I don’t know,” he stammered. “For making you drive me home. For ruining your handkerchief,” he said.

The girl sighed as she tightened the cloth around his hand and tied it into a bow to keep it in place. “Bunny, you’re not making me do anything. I insisted, remember?” She reminded him. Credence felt the entirety of his face grow hot. He turned to face her again, only to be met with the same (e/c) eyes and kind smile she had before. His heart felt as though it were beating a mile a minute.

“And don’t worry about my handkerchief,” she adds. “I have dozens of them. They’re more for looks anyway, I never use them.”

Credence nodded and silently thanked her. She gave his hand another squeeze before leaning back in her seat and starting the car. The car made a sound like a lion and roared to life. The seats trembled beneath them, and the headlights lit the road ahead. When the car jerked into drive, Credence felt uneasy. She drove the car well, and he suspected that she was driving at a slower rate for his benefit, but the feeling of the car moving made his stomach churn with excitement and fear. He walked everywhere he went. He’d taken the subway once before when he was younger, but somehow this was different. He fidgeted in his seat, finding anything to distract himself from the tight feeling in his stomach. His eyes fixated on his hands, brushing his fingers against the smooth fabric of the handkerchief. It was colorfully embroidered with flowers and lacey patterns. He followed the design with his eyes until they came upon two scripted letters embroidered in gold on the corner that wasn’t tied into a knot.

“Are these your initials?” He asked to distract himself with small talk.

The girl gasped dramatically. “I never introduced myself, did I? How rude of me! I’m practically a stranger and here I am driving you around Manhattan without giving you a proper introduction.”

The girl took one hand off the wheel and held it out in front of him. “My name’s (y/n) (l/n).”

Credence took her hand and shook it lightly. “I’m Credence. Credence Barebone.”

“Credence. What an odd name. I like it,” she grinned before pulling her hand back. “So, where am I taking you, Credence?”

He told her he lived in the old chapel on Pike Street. She fell flustered while trying to explain she didn’t know exactly where that was. Credence then told her she was going the right way, and if she kept going straight, he would tell her when to turn. While they drove, she did her best to get to know Credence. He answered every question she asked with a short and vague response. She didn’t ask him many questions to begin with. She mostly talked about herself or the people she knew, like her family and friends. Almost everything reminded her of them.

He figured she did it to make him feel more comfortable. He didn’t mind. He enjoyed hearing her talk. While driving, she saw a dress in a boutique and mentioned that her friend, Darla, would love to have a dress just like it. When they passed a tea shop, it reminded of her mother, who only drank earl grey tea; which, to her, is the most boring of teas. On the sidewalk, there was a stray cat running into an alleyway. She told him how much she wanted a pet cat as a child, but she couldn’t get one because her father was allergic.

He couldn’t help but be enthralled by her. The more she talked, the more relaxed he became. He stole glances at her when she wasn’t looking. Watching her lips move as she talked, outlining the bridge of her nose and the curve of her cheek. He had been staring so intently he hadn’t even realized she’d asked him a question.

“Credence?” Her voice filled his ears.

“Yes?” He answered.

“I asked if I turn here.”

Credence turned to look out the window and saw that they had stopped at the corner of Pike Street. It was a quiet neighborhood filled with old apartments that had dim windows and unfriendly doors. Sticking out like a tabby cat among tigers was the Church of the Second Salemers. A rickety thing dwarfed by the buildings that surrounded it. Credence’s heart sank. If only the ride was a little longer.

“I can get out here,” he told her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he nodded.

Her lips twitched into a bittersweet smile. “Alright,” she simpered. “Well, it was nice meeting you.”

“It was nice meeting you too,” He said truthfully.

There was a beat of silence. The two sat awkwardly, not really knowing how to say goodbye. Credence stared at his hands in his lap and began to untie the handkerchief.

“Keep it,” she stopped him before he could. “To remember me by.”

Would this really be the last time? He knew that she meant nothing by it, but hoped he didn't have to remember her. He wanted to see her again. He didn’t want it to end.

He gripped the cloth tightly in his hand. “Thank you.”

He reluctantly opened the car door and stepped onto the slushy street, closing the door behind him. She waved at him through the window, to which he returned in a less enthusiastic manner. He took a step back onto the sidewalk and watched as she drove down the street until she disappeared around the corner.

“Goodbye... (y/n),” he whispered.

It had been weeks since Credence’s chance encounter, and ever since his mind was consumed with thoughts and fantasies of (y/n) (l/n). Everything reminded him of her. The melting snow on the ground, the smell of flowers that mimicked her perfume when he passed the floristry, passing women in mink coats and tea shops; they all emulated her.

He often thought about how different things would have been if he did what he wanted that night. Would she be with him now had he gone to the café when she’d offered? Would she have liked to know him? Would she have enjoyed his company? The more he thought about it, the more he wished he’d taken the risk—his mother be damned.

Now all he had were memories and theories of what could have been. Though, fantasizing became his new favorite pass time. Reminiscing about her was one of the only things that gave light to his otherwise dark, mundane life. Like right now, he was thinking of what it would be like to make her laugh while scooping porridge into bowls for the orphans to eat.

He thought her laugh would sound feathery and jovial; the kind of laugh that makes you want to smile and laugh with her.

“You’re smiling.”

Credence was pulled from his thoughts by his sister, Chastity. He looked to the side and saw her smirking into the pot. “What?”

“It’s not just today,” she says. “You’ve been... different lately. Happier, I think. Always smiling to yourself. Did something happen?”

“No.”

“Did you meet someone or something?” She persisted.

Credence scoffed. “How could I have met someone?” He refuted.

Chastity she glimpsed at Credence skeptically. “I guess not,” she hummed, much to his relief.

“Doesn’t explain why you’re blushing, though,” she smirked.

Credence’s cheeks burst into flames as he attempted to sputter an explanation. Chastity giggled to herself, finding amusement in teasing him.

“What’s going on, children?”

The sickeningly sweet voice was enough to raise the hair on the back of their necks and shudder their hearts. They turned around, craning their necks up to the banister. Mary Lou Barebone towered over them just as menacingly as she could in her own prim and proper way.

“Nothing, mother,” Chastity answered for them. “Credence was just telling me a joke.”

“This is no time to be joking,” she scolded. “We have a very important meeting today with Father Blackwell, and I will not allow distractions. We can't lose focus. This is our chance to spread our message to the church— to the city! You should be preparing, not laughing.”

“I’m sorry, mother,” Credence apologized.

“Don’t let it happen again,” she warned, before sauntering away.

Even in her absence, Credence couldn’t find the will to relax the rest of the morning. The threat of her looming presence was far too great. After the orphans had finished their meal and left, Chastity washed all the dishes while he cleaned the dining hall. Once they finished their menial tasks, Modesty came downstairs to tell them Mary Lou wanted them to hurry and dress in their best attire for Father Blackwell.

Father Blackwell was the priest of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. He was the most famous priest in New York City and the priest of the mayor. Mary Lou was very anxious to present her case to him. According to her, once Father Blackwell hears her pleas and shares it with the church, the city would finally begin to take her seriously and put a stop to the heresy festering right under their noses.

So she believed.

It was Sunday. Today they would attend a mid-day service and attempt to get counsel with the priest. Though, Credence doubted Father Blackwell would even see them. As he got dressed, he looked himself over in the mirror. His ‘best’ attire was a dark plum suit so dark it looked black if you weren't paying attention. It made his already pale skin look even fairer and darkened the color of his raven hair and russet eyes. It was the only suit that fit him perfectly and had few blemishes. He’d probably look like a proper gentleman if his mahogany shoes weren't so terribly worn due to them being the only pair he owned.  

He took the matching hat off his dresser and put it on. Hidden underneath it was the pink handkerchief. He took the piece of fabric in his hands and held it up to his nose. It smelled like her. Remnants of her perfume still lingered between its stitches. He was grateful she allowed him to keep her handkerchief. He felt foolish for ever trying to part with it. It was the only proof he had that she existed; that their brief night encounter had truly happened.

“What are you doing?”

Credence instinctively hid the cloth behind his back, turning around to see Mary Lou standing in his doorway.

“I was straightening my tie,” he says, his voice wavering slightly.

Mary Lou looked him over for a moment, trying to find something out of place. “Come now,” she orders, having found no reason to torment the boy. “We’re leaving.”

She walked away. The sound of her heavy footsteps thumping down the stairs was Credence’s signal to breathe again. He pulled the handkerchief from his back and folded it neatly before hiding it underneath his pillow.

On their way to the cathedral, Mary Lou gave each of them a stack of flyers. She wanted them to hand out flyers to the congregation once the service ended while she talked with Father Blackwell. If there was one thing about Mary Lou, she was passionate and determined. When she set her sights on something, she will do everything in her power to execute it. She’d been planning this meeting for weeks. She readied herself in the only way she knew how: through constant prayer and tedious preparation. In a way, Credence was thankful for it. When Mary Lou became enlightened on an alternative approach, she was far too busy focusing on it to bother him. It was one of the few windows of relative freedom he had, and they came once in a blue moon. This meeting could mark the end, or the beginning, of this liberation.

Sitting in the pews during service, he could hardly concentrate. St. Patrick’s was a magnificent building, an authentic replica of the renaissance with its high, arched ceiling, stone engravings, and vibrant stained glass windows. It was the epitome of class and beauty. So, naturally, it would be the one church favorited by the high society. Wealthy families filled the better half of the sanctuary. While Credence and his family sat in the back with the rest of the commoners, they filled the front pews with tailored suits, mink coats, and Sunday hats. As Father Blackwell preached to the congregation, Credence searched the pews for a familiar face.

He knew his chances of seeing her were low, but he couldn't help but hope one of those Sunday hats would turn around and reveal those sparkling (e/c) eyes. His leg shook nervously, his eyes darting from one aisle of pews to another. It only stopped when a firm hand tightly gripped his thigh.

“Pay attention,” Mary Lou whispered, malice laced in her tone.

Credence swallowed, his body tensing immediately, afraid of even moving an inch in her presence. He turned his attention from the pews to the altar. Father Blackwell was standing in front of his pedestal, reading a scripture.

“We are living in a godless time,” He said. “Satan parades in the streets, preying on our sons and daughters! When the night comes, our children leave and venture into the streets. The devil and his minions tell them to wear promiscuous evening attire, commit sodomy, and fornication! Tempting them into Speakeasies to drink the Devil’s urine and feast on the bodies of Lilith’s daughters! Our city has become the devil’s playground. There is no God out there. Only sin.”

Flashes of her face imprinted in his mind. Credence frowned and tried to push it from his thoughts, but he couldn’t. His thoughts became consumed by her. As Father Blackwell spoke, he began to envision things he knew he shouldn’t.

“‘The body is not meant for sexual immorality, but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body.’” Father Blackwell reads. “Don’t you see? It isn’t ‘fashion’ or ‘modernity’. The devil has infested the media to infect our minds. He wants to taint our bodies to further stray us from God. ‘Flee from sexual immorality. Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body’... and therefore, is a sin against God.”

His cheeks burned, and he prayed nobody would notice. He’d never thought of her like this before. Yet, somehow, the sermon unlocked one of his most shameful desires. He imagined the feeling of her warm body pressed against his. He reminisced about the feel of her soft skin. He pictured the curves of her lips, chest, and hips. He wondered how they would feel on his lips. Would they be just as soft?

“Brothers and Sisters, we must rid ourselves of all sin. Protect your children, for the devil, has his eyes set on them. The greatest sin against God is the polluting of our holy bodies. We must practice modesty and chastity. Only then can we be saved... Let us pray."

The congregation bowed their heads and listened as Father Blackwell lead the closing prayer.

The priest’s words echoed in the back of his mind. Even as he and his sisters handed flyers to those exiting the church, his mind would drift back to the sermon. Mary Lou had left him and his sisters to talk with Father Blackwell. He watched as she walked down the aisle to meet him at the altar. Father Blackwell was already conversing with a member of the church, a stocky man wearing a cream-colored suit and matching hat.

She nearly approached him before another man stopped her. Credence recognized him as Deacon Ripley. Deacon Ripley was as galling as his face would suggest. His face was pointed and far too wrinkled for his age. Deacon Ripley had a habit of sticking his unusually large nose into other people’s business. He reminded Credence of a sewer rat, just as unsightly and full of shit.

He couldn’t make out what was being said, but from the looks of it, Deacon Ripley was reprimanding Mary Lou. Mary Lou did her best to get Father Blackwell’s attention, but he and the mustachioed gentleman ignored her calls. Mary Lou was never really one to lose her composure, but in her desperation, she attempted to divert Deacon from obstructing her access to Father Blackwell. She rushed to the altar, calling Father Blackwell. She began stating her case, catching the attention of those still left in the church.  

“There are evil forces at work, Father!” She shouted. “Heretics walk freely amongst us, doing the devil's work!”

Deacon Ripley came behind Mary Lou. “Pay no mind to her, Father Blackwell, she speaks fabrications.”

“This is not fiction, Father, I can assure you,” she says. “I have seen them with my own eyes. The devil’s concubine.”

“What is this you speak of?” Father Blackwell demands.

“Witches, Father. There are witches here in New York, working right under our noses—”

“I told you, Father, she’s insane,” Deacon Ripley cuts in.

“I am not crazy,” Mary Lou snarks. “And if we don’t stop them now, there will be hell to pay!”

“Enough, Ms. Barebone,” says Father Blackwell. “I will hear no more of these fairytales. Please, have decency.”

Father Blackwell turned to the gentleman and guided him to a back door where they disappeared from the sanctuary. Mary Lou, still determined to be heard, began shouting after them, preaching her testimony of witches infiltrating New York. This resulted in her being handled by a few clergymen and escorted off the premises. People whispered and gossiped as the Barebones walked by. It wasn’t hard to tell Mary Lou was humiliated. She put on a brave face, clenching her jaw and holding her head high. She grabbed Modesty by the hand and walked away. Credence and Chastity followed close behind with their heads down.  

It had been about a week since the church incident. Mary Lou hadn’t left her room since. The only one to see her was Modesty. Mary Lou always had a soft spot for the younger sibling. In any other circumstance, Credence would have taken such behavior as a blessing. Whatever wrath Mary Lou was feeling wasn’t being directed at him. But the looming threat of her presence left him little to no space to relax.

Credence was helping Chastity make pamphlets in the dining hall when the sound of Mary Lou’s door opening and closing halted their process. Small footsteps trotted down the stairs and into the hall.

“Credence,” Modesty called. Credence stood from his seat and walked to Modesty, who handed him a stack of flyers once he was close enough. “Mother wants you to pass out these flyers around town. She said not to come back until they’re all gone.”

Credence took the flyers in his hands and reluctantly walked to the door. It was snowing today. It wasn’t cold enough for it to stick, but it was cold nonetheless. He already wore his warmest clothes, which happened to be an old navy sweater vest, grey wool suit jacket, and matching trousers. He threw on a grey fedora and ventured into the streets.

He didn’t mind handing out flyers. Anything to get out of that awful place was enough for him. It was just about noon when he left. He thought it best to head towards the inner city. It was Saturday, so there were sure to be people bustling in and out of shops today. It usually wasn’t a long walk, Credence was used to walking long distances. However, the nipping cold slowed his pace a bit.

In the first hour, he spent walking around midtown and passing flyers around the park. Handing out flyers in winter rarely yields any results. People are far too cold and miserable to bother pulling their hands from their pockets to grab a piece of paper. After a very unsuccessful hour, he migrated further north, closer to Times Square.

“Credence?”

Credence stopped in his tracks, his heart jumping wildly in his chest. He slowly turned around to where the voice had come from. There, in all her grace, was the last person he expected to see. He could see her even more clearly than the last night he saw her. This time, she wore a large, white fur coat that stopped at her ankles and a matching fur hat. In her gloved hands, she carried a small beaded purse that glittered when light reflected off it.  In the day’s light, her skin radiantly glowed, much like her purse. Her eyes seemed bigger than what he remembered, mimicking that of a doll’s. They were enhanced by the brown eyeshadow that darkened her lids and the mascara that elongated her lashes. Today, her lips were raspberry pink instead of the deep red he remembered. Snowflakes nestled in the nooks of her curled (h/c) hair, making her appear even more angelic.

“Mi-Miss (l/n)?”

He hadn’t a moment to process her appearance before she rushed into his arms, catching him by surprise. She threw her arms around his neck and rested her chin on his broad shoulder. His hands instinctively gravitated to her waist, holding her steady as she stood on the tips of her toes. She felt lush in his arms, the heat from her body sent warmth spreading throughout his center. The expanse of his neck and cheeks blossomed into a dusty shade of rose. His mind raced as he tried to collect his thoughts. He was almost sure she could feel the rapid beating of his chest.

If she did, she didn’t seem to mind. She held onto him, squealing excitedly. “You don’t know how happy I am to see you!” She said between giggles. “I was hoping you’d be here!”

Credence raised his brows, swallowing the lump in his throat. “You... You were hoping?” he repeated.

She pulled away, falling back on her heels to look him in the eye. Her hands still held onto his arms. “Well, I wasn’t sure if I’d see you,” she says. “But every time I come down, I hope I do.”

“You visit often?” He asked.

“As much as I can,” she admits. “I live in Kings Point. Do you know where that is?”

He nodded. Kings Point was a village up North by the bay in an area commonly referred to as West Egg. Many wealthy families live there in their ritzy mansions, throwing parties, boating, and golfing.

“Yes, well, I can only visit on weekends. Mainly with friends. But, lately, I’ve made a habit of coming down on my own, since I met you.”

She had said it so casually he thought she must’ve not realized how it sounded. Had she been purposely coming to the city, hoping to cross paths again? A small smile formed on his lips.

Her hands slipped from his arms and returned to her side, much to his disappointment.

Just then, a man behind her coughed, drawing their attention. (y/n) looked back and gasped. “Oh! I’m sorry, Eddy. How rude of me! I completely forgot to introduce you.”

She stepped back to the man’s side. “Eddy, this is my friend Credence Barebone. I met him a few weeks ago in Town Square. Credence, this is Edmund Tully.”

Credence and the man made eye contact. The man, Edmund, was tall; even taller than him. He was built, with wide shoulders to match his thick neck and strong, clean-shaven jawline. His rectangular face was undeniably handsome, with strong, straight features Credence had only seen before on statues and hooded green eyes. His blond hair was almost completely hidden underneath his grey newsboy hat that matched the tailored grey suit he wore underneath a thick, black, fur-lined ulster.

Credence was already intimidated by the man. He was older, around his late twenties. If it wasn’t his overall overwhelming appearance that intimidated him, then it was definitely the pointed glower directed at him. (y/n) didn’t notice it. Her eyes were focused on him.

“It’s nice to meet you,” said Credence, bravely offering his hand.

Edmund looked down at Credence’s outstretched hand. “Yes, and you as well,” he said indifferently, reluctantly taking his hand and forcing a smile. (y/n)’s brows wrinkled slightly at the interaction as she looked between the two men.

When they stopped shaking hands, Edmund turned to (y/n). It was almost comical how drastically his expression changed when he looked at her. His face softened and his phony, tight-lipped smile became genuine.

“(y/n), darling, I’m afraid I have to go now,” He said.

“So soon?” She asked.

“Yes, actually. Your brother and I have a meeting with your father and Mr. Finnegan around lunch,” he explains.

“Oh, I see,” she hums in understanding. “Well, you better get going.”

“You’re right, I must.” He took a step closer to her. “It was lovely running into you today, (y/n).”

Credence watched as he bent down and placed a large hand on her waist. She too reached around to wrap your arm around his torso. He watched as the man kissed her right cheek before moving to kiss the other. This didn’t phase her at all. Instead, she smiled as if it happened all the time. Credence felt looked away, upset by the display. Why did he feel upset?

The two pulled apart, and Edmund began to walk away. “I’ll tell your brother you said hello, shall I?” He yelled.

“Yes! And tell him that mother wants him home by ten o’clock tonight!” (y/n) responded as she waved goodbye.

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Credence spoke up.

(y/n) looked back to face Credence. “I have two older brothers, actually,” she told him. “Aaron and Channing. Eddy is Aaron’s friend. They met at Oxford University. He and my brother both work for my father now, so he’s around often. He can be a bit... overbearing sometimes, but he means well.”

“And your other brother?”

“Channing is only a year older than me, so he’s twenty. He’s my best friend,” she revealed. “He isn’t here, though—in New York, I mean. He’s currently studying abroad in Japan.”

“Japan?”

“Crazy, isn’t it? Between you and me, I think he’s only there to follow this Japanese girl he met. And I don’t blame him! I met her before and she’s very beautiful, sweet too! Though, I do miss him a lot. Sometimes I wonder if I should have gone with him when I had the chance.”

Credence looked down at his feet as he listened. For some reason, the thought saddened him. Did she miss her brother so much that she would end up leaving for Japan one day? Would he never see her again? Would she miss him if she did? He didn’t want her to go. He wanted her to stay so they could keep meeting like this. So he could see her face and have her smile at him so kindly, like she always did. Her brother might miss her, but he needed her.

Credence felt so selfish for thinking such things. How could he possibly think he deserved her time? If he told her what he truly thought, how would she react?

As if she could read his thoughts, (y/n) took a step closer to him. He picked his head up to face her and saw that she was smiling up at him.

“But, if I had done that, then I wouldn’t have met you,” she says.

Just as quickly as his deprecating thoughts had come, they left once her words reached his ears. Credence could only stare at her in disbelief.

“And he sends me letters every month, so, I guess it's all right,” she chuckled. “So, how have you been?” She asked, bringing him out of his daze.

“I...I’ve been well,” he says.

“I’m glad,” she smiles. Her eyes travel down his form. A small crease forms in the middle of her brows as she tilts her head to the side. “You still haven’t gotten yourself a coat, I see.”

Credence looked down at his clothes as though he had forgotten what he had on. “No, I haven’t.”

She cocked her head to the side and furrowed her brows. “I suppose I could just buy you one.”

Credence shook his head, not wanting to inconvenience her for a second time. “You don’t have to do that,” he said.

“I wasn’t really asking,” she said.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Really.”

She stared at him for a moment, squinting her eyes slightly. “Fine, then.” She began unbuttoning her coat. Credence watched her, confused by the sudden action.

“W-What are you doing?” He asked.

“If you won't let me buy you a coat, then I won't wear one either,” she says simply.

Credence furrowed his brows. “But you’ll be cold.”

She scoffed. “And you’re not?”

Credence was rendered speechless. A small smirk curled on her painted lips. “Either you let me buy you a coat, or I won’t wear one at all. I can’t walk with you knowing you’re freezing and I’m perfectly comfortable.”

She was impossible. No matter what he says, she would always find a way to make him give in.

“O-Okay,” he concedes.

(y/n) grinned brightly, fixing her coat back over her shoulders and hooking her arm around his as she had once before.

“This will be fun!” She beamed.

She led him back in the direction she had come while eagerly telling him about the boutique she knew would have the best selection for him. He increasingly became more comfortable in her presence. He even properly engaged in conversation, much to her delight. And whenever she smiled up at him, he found himself smiling too.

The boutique wasn’t far—about three blocks away to be exact. It was a small blue shop with gold painted windows. Through them, Credence could see posed mannequins dressed in all kinds of fancy coats, dresses, and suits. Written above the entrance in the scripted font was a sign that read: Vendicci’s.

Upon entering the store, their ears were filled with Italian opera. The shop appeared to be empty. There were no other shoppers, and the front counter was left unattended. Credence followed her to the counter. On its surface was a small golden bell that she tapped lightly. The bell rang, signaling their presence.

Shuffling could be heard from the back of the shop, catching their attention. From the back of the shop, they could hear harsh whispers and unintelligible curses. A short, thin man came stumbling in. He had dark olive skin and chestnut brown curls that fell around his Grecian face. He was disheveled—the first three buttons of his pink dress shirt were unbuttoned, and the fabric of his pressed white pants were creased. Without looking, the man made his way to the back of the counter, mumbling in a language he couldn’t make out.

Following behind him was a woman equally disheveled in appearance. Her short black hair stuck up in odd places, and she had missed one button of her blouse. She wandered the shop, to mind some clothes on the rack as the man drew near to the front counter.

“Stupidi Americani... Sorry, we are closed for now. You can come back later when—,” The man stopped when his eyes landed on her.

(y/n) smirked. “Hello, Raül,” she waved.

“Bella!” He gasped and hurried towards her with open arms. “How wonderful to see you!” He said in a thick Mediterranean accent. He placed hands on her shoulders and pulled her in to kiss both of her cheeks. “You look even more lovely since the last I saw you.”

“It’s good to see you too, Raül,” she chuckled.

“Where have you been?” He pouts. “It’s been so long I’ve barely been able to survive without you.”

“I’m sorry, Raül, I’ve been trying to be more mindful of how I spend my money,” she explains.

“Mind your money here! I have so many new items you would look molto bella in. I saved them just for you,” he winked.

“That’s sweet of you, Raül. I promise I will come by and try them on at another time.”

Suddenly, the man became aware of Credence’s presence in the room. He looked at him like something had left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. Raül raised a skeptical brow and asked with pursed lips, “Is this man with you?”

“Yes, he is,” she says as a matter-of-fact. “We’d like to buy a coat. Something thick for the winter.”

Raül nodded and hummed, turning back to face her. “You’re just in luck,” he says. “Early this week I got a shipment straight from Italia: a fine selection of winter coats designed by Feliciano Romano himself.”

(y/n) gasped, clasping her hands together. “That’s fantastic! We’ll try those first!”

She took Credence by the arm and they followed him through the shop where they came upon a round archway covered by red velvet curtains. Raül pulled back the heavy curtains to reveal a separate room. It was small. The carpet was also red to match the curtains and the loveseats and chairs that decorated the room. In the center of the floor, was a circular platform. Above it was a circular ring of white drapes that had been pulled up. Across from the platform was a wall of mirrors, reflecting the room from different angles.

The woman from earlier had come in as well. With her, she brought along a rack filled with many expensive coats. She pulled it to the side of the room, right next to the platform. Raül thanked the woman with a playful pat on her buttcheek.

Credence blushed, having put two-and-two together about what was going on between the two co-workers before he and (y/n) had shown up. (y/n) was unfazed at all by the promiscuous interaction. Instead, she took off her coat and hat and threw them on one of the sofas facing the platform before taking a seat.

“Let’s begin!” Raül said excitedly.

“Stand up there, Credence.” (y/n) pointed to the platform. Credence did as he was told, and stepped onto the raised surface, awkwardly awaiting more instruction.

The dark-haired woman came up to Credence with a large coat in her arms. He didn’t need to put it on to know it wasn’t something that would suit him. She stood behind him and slipped the sleeves of the coat over his arms and shoulders. The coat itself was heavy enough to make him slouch slightly and tense his leg muscles to carry the added weight. The warm fabric engulfed his lanky form. It was made of strange, thick fur—not mink, but from another animal, he couldn’t guess. It was dark brown, and in some areas, it looked black. The length of the coat ended just above his ankles and the sleeves practically covered his hands, the tips of his fingers were all that were visible.

It was definitely a coat well suited for a more muscular type of man. It was the kind of coat that would be perfect for a large Russian mobster. However, on his lanky form, it just looked plain silly. (y/n) looked at him in the mirror, catching his eye.

“Do you like it?” She asks. “Be honest. I won’t buy you something you don’t like.”

“It’s fine,” he lied.

“Absolutely not!” Raül said as he took a step onto the platform and stood in front of Credence, looking him over intently. “I never thought I would say this to anyone, but, my dear, sable is not for you.”

“You don’t think so?” (y/n) chimed in.

“Miss (l/n)!” He gasped. “You are my most fashionable client! Tell me you don’t think this works for him!”

She looked him up and down, a smile stretching across her lips. “I think he looks cute,” she says. “like a cuddly bear.”

Credence blushed and shied away from her gaze. Raül tuts his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Well, he must be the skinniest bear in the forest,” he mutters as he pulls the coat off Credence’s shoulders.

“Want to try another one?” She asked. Credence nodded.

Raül went through the rack before pulling out another coat for him to try. He found one he thought might look best and took it off its hook before helping Credence try it on.

After he helped him slip his arms in, he took a step back to look him over. “How's this?”

It was a slim-fitting burnt orange fox fur coat that stopped halfway. It had a low collar and large brown buttons that trailed from his chest to the hem. He noticed how it was tighter around his waist and made his hips look bigger than he’d like. He thought it was a coat he would see on a woman. 

“It’s a bit bright for winter, don’t you think?” She pointed out.

“Nothing is ever too bright,” Raül argued.

She squinted at Credence’s reflection in the mirror, pondering the look. His face burned red and he silently pleaded she disliked the coat as well. His flustered expression made her stifle a fit of giggles. “I think we’ll try another one,” she smirked.

Raül sighs and slips the coat off Credence’s shoulders, much to his relief. The next coat was a black and white trench with large black buttons and a belt. Credence stood uncomfortably in front of the critical pair.

Raül crossed his arms, a small approving smile plastered on his lips. “Now this, I like!”

“I don’t know...” She hummed. “What do you think, Credence?”

“It’s itchy,” he says.

“It’s tweed,” Raül said, as though it made it better.

She giggled and looked at Raül. “Another?”

They went through several different coats, most of which were unflattering or uncomfortable. Credence thought the others were doing it on purpose — at least, he felt like she was. There was something about the playful smirk that curled the corners of her lips whenever he was dressed in a seemingly ridiculous or feminine coat that made him feel as though she had taken joy in dressing him up and watching his cheeks turn red from embarrassment whenever she expressed how ‘cute’ he looked. While there may have been no initial mal-intent when she initially insisted on buying him a coat, he was starting to feel like she was toying with him; teasing him for her own pleasure. 

Raül pulled another unsatisfying coat off of his shoulders only to replace it with another. The weighted coat comfortably slipped onto his shoulders. When Raül properly fit the coat onto him, he took a step back, a small smile gracing his features. Credence turned his neck to look back at (y/n) who had a similar expression of approval.

“Wow.” She whispered.

The coat was indeed impressive in a simplistic kind of way. It wasn’t too flashy or extraordinary. Just a simple black trench that fell to his knees. It was a sharp, angular cut, one that seemed to broaden his shoulders to imitate a somewhat muscular appearance. The shade of black complimented his pale skin and matched his raven locks, making him appear more porcelain than before. 

“Magnifico! So handsome, like a dark prince!” Raül cheered. His assistant then too voiced her agreement.

(y/n) moved from the sofa to the platform where Credence stood. She eyed him closely, circling him before stopping in his eye-view. She ran her hands up his arms, feeling the material under her skin. She dragged them up and across his shoulders, before stopping at his chest. Credence’s heart drummed against his chest, excited by her touch. He wondered if she could feel it through the coat.

“Do you like it?” she asked him.

“I do,” he says, truthfully this time.

She smiled and turned to face Raül. “We’ll take it!”

(y/n) left with Raül and the woman from earlier to pay for the dashing coat, leaving Credence alone in the dressing room. He looked himself over in the mirror, admiring how he looked in the black material. He couldn’t deny how good he looked in it. For the first time he looked, normal. Better than normal—he looked like a proper gentleman. Sure, a real ritz could snuff him out in a heartbeat, but to the average New Yorker, he could pass for someone on the same caliber as (y/n). It was like looking at the version of him he always wanted to be.

It wasn’t long before the fleeting fantasy soured. The rational part of his brain picked at the flaws of this entire interaction. How would he explain to his mother where he got such an expensive coat? If she saw him wearing it, she would definitely ask questions he was afraid to answer. Either way, he knew he couldn’t be seen with it on while she was around. But he couldn’t throw it away; not when she went through all the trouble of buying it for him. And it was such a nice coat... Credence shook the worries from his mind. He couldn’t think about it now. 

After (y/n) paid for the coat, the two bid Raül goodbye and ventured back out into the cold. Already, Credence noticed a stark difference of the cold with the coat protecting his skin. It dulled the nipping chill that never left during the winter months. 

“Much better, isn’t it? ‘Not cold’ my ass,” she snarked playfully. She fished around her coat pocket and pulled out a pair of black leather gloves. “Take these.”

Credence eyed the gloves questionably. (y/n) sighed and took his hand from his side, sliding the gloves on before doing the same with the other. “There,” she grinned. “I wasn’t sure if these were gonna be the right size, but look! They’re perfect!”

“But... you didn’t have to buy these for me,” said Credence.

“I didn’t buy them,” she says. “Raül gave them to me—well, to you. He says those gloves must go with that coat. I have to say I agree; they really complete the look.” She began walking down the street again, prompting him to follow her. “And don’t worry about the coat, okay? Like I said before, it’s on me,” she reminded him.

Credence still felt couldn’t accept something so valuable without thanking her. She bought him a coat because she cared about how he was feeling, just like when she helped him off the street all those weeks ago. He felt indebted to her—grateful to her. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he returned the favor tenfold. 

To her, this was obvious. She could tell buying the coat bothered him. He was so tense. He probably would never relax around her unless he somehow proved that he deserved to. Perhaps she can help him see. She glanced at the taller boy from the corner of her eye.

“But,” she sighed. “If you’re still looking for some way to repay me, I can think of something I’d like you to do.”

Credence perked up. “Really? What is it?”

She grins up at him, showing her pearly white teeth. “Go on a date with me.”

Credence’s eyes widened. “W-What?”

(y/n) chuckled. “If you don’t want to go on a date with me, that’s fine.”

“No!” He said all too desperately. He blushed at his own excitement. “I mean... Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“It’s why I suggested it, isn’t it?”

Credence blushed. A date? He’d imagined taking her on a date in his head about a hundred times. He thought of what he might say and do on the chance he got to be alone with her again. Maybe this time he’ll follow through.

“Okay,” he gave in. “Where do you want to go?”

“How eager are you!” She laughed. “I didn’t even say when and you’re already trying to sweep me off my feet, huh? Either that or you’re just trying to get rid of me.”

“T-That’s not how I meant it!” he stammered.

(y/n) giggled at his demise. “I’m just teasing you, Bunny. No need to turn so red,” she smirked.

She didn’t help his case when she slipped her arm between his to link their arms. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to her being so close to him. No matter how many times she touched him, he always managed to get flustered. It’s probably why she did it so much, just to see him blush.

“Now is as good a time as any,” she said while smiling up at him. “Are you hungry? I’m starving!”

They walked through the city together, arm in arm. Unlike last time, Credence attempted to be more interactive with her. (y/n) was definitely the more dominant converser, but his attempts to be more engaging with her didn’t go unnoticed. He asked her the questions that have been collecting in his head since they met.

He asked her what she did in her spare time (paint) and what her favorite food was (chocolate). He learned that she was a Columbia scholar currently on break and that she recently adopted a hairless cat named Onyx (it was the only cat her father wasn’t allergic to). Talking with her became easy. He even made her laugh a few times.

While they walked, Credence felt like they passed about twenty different restaurants and cafés he thought she would like. But whenever he thought they were about to stop, she kept going. He was wondering where exactly she was taking him. 

“Are we eating somewhere in particular?” He asked discreetly.

(y/n) nodded and hummed. “I’m taking you to one of the best places on earth. Salone’s! It’s not that far from here. It’s been a while since I’ve been, but I’m really craving it. Have you ever been there before?” She asked.

Credence shook his head. “Never,” he said, causing her to gasp dramatically.

“Oh, now we definitely have to go! What kind of person would I be if I let you go on living without experiencing God’s gift to man? And by ‘God’ I mean Dixie Salone, the owner.”

When they turned the corner, there was a small restaurant named Salone’s across the street. Taking precautious measures, (y/n) gingerly led Credence across the street and to the restaurant. When they opened the door, the smell of grease and peanuts filled the air. The place was reasonably packed, with average looking people all looking at them as they entered the room. (y/n) looked out of place in her rather extravagant attire, though now—with her on his arm and his new coat—he probably looked just as pretentious as she.

If (y/n) noticed the leering eyes of the other customers, she didn’t show it. Instead, she scoured the area for a place to sit, before landing on a booth tucked away in the back. They claimed the booth for themselves. Credence took the booth facing the door, shedding his outer attire and tucking it away in the seat corner. (y/n) slid into the seat across from him, shrugging off her coat and hat, revealing her clothes underneath.

Underneath the mound of fur, was a matching white dress. Unaccommodating to the weather, the dress underneath hung off her shoulders. It had long sleeves, but the upper half of her chest and her shoulders were exposed. Though, Credence figured when you have fur to wear over your clothes, it doesn’t matter much what you wear under it. The fabric was velvet, which must have also helped. From what he could see, it hugged her body well. Credence looked down at his hands on his lap, realizing he had been staring a bit too long. Lucky for him, she hadn’t noticed.

On the table were two menus placed before them. He looked down at the large printed sheet. Credence had never been to a restaurant before. He had eaten nowhere else but the church. He ate once a day (if he ate at all) and it was the same thing almost every time: porridge and stale bread. But on the menu before him, there was no porridge or stale bread at all. There was soup, steak, chicken, and almost every kind of pie. He felt his mouth watering just thinking about it. 

“Don’t bother looking at the menu,” (y/n) told him, gaining his attention. “I’m going to order for you. This place is really only good for two things, everything else is subpar, trust me.”

He looked at the menu again, mildly disappointed. He was looking forward to trying fried chicken. He took a moment to look around the diner. Most of the people there looked like working classmen: factory workers or nannies. Some still wore their uniforms under layers of sweaters and scarves. Others wore regular everyday clothes. Many of those who eyed them upon their entry returned their attention to their food and prior conversations. Though, there were a few that still snuck looks at their table in the back. Some were harmless, like the little girl who was staring at (y/n) in awe. Some were more menacing, like the rugged-looking man sitting on a stool by the counter who seemed annoyed by their presence.

(y/n) noticed that Credence’s eyes were shifting around the room pointedly. “Is something the matter?” She asked.

“It’s just...” He began. “I never thought you would be the type to eat at a place like this.”

“I guess it does seem a bit funny, huh? I look like someone who’d frequent an uptown steakhouse, right?” She chuckled. “Truth is, I’ve never had a big part in that lifestyle. Banquets and fine dining, I mean. It’s all fake and pretentious. But this—” she gestured to the room around them. “This is real. The food is real. The people are real. Do you know what I mean?”

Credence nodded. “I think so.”

“Some of my favorite memories take place here. My father would take me here when I was little on his days off. It was one of the happiest times of my life. I guess I wanted to relive that with you today.”

Credence took notice in the look in her eyes. He could tell that recalling such memories saddened her. He didn’t like seeing her upset, but, at the same time, he was glad she wanted to share something so important to her with him. One day, he hoped to do the same.

Not long after that, a young woman dressed in a red dress and a white apron with a stitched red S on the bottom corner walked up to their table with a notepad in hand.

“Hello and welcome to Salone’s, what can I get the lovely couple today?” The waitress asked. Credence couldn’t help but blush after being referred to as a couple.

“Yes,” (y/n) said happily. “Today we’ll—” she stopped mid-sentence before glancing at Credence across the table. She smirked and waved the waitress down to her.

The waitress smiled and got down on her knees next to her. (y/n) grabbed a menu and held it in front of their faces so Credence couldn’t tell what she was whispering. He watched in confusion as (y/n) whispered their order to the waitress.

The waitress nodded, and every once in a while he heard her giggle. “Yes, alright... okay... got it!”

The woman stood back up on her feet and smiled down at the two diners. “If you two just wait here, I will be right back with your orders,” she said cheerfully before trotting off.

“What did you get?” Credence asked once she had left.

(y/n) shook her head and held her fingers to her lips to imitate the motion of closing a zipper. “It’s a surprise,” she winked.

Credence nodded, having decided to trust her decision. In the meantime, while they waited for their food, (y/n) engaged in another conversation with him. It was a continuation of their earlier conversation about pets. (y/n) wanted to know if Credence had any pets. When he told her he never had a pet, she asked him what kinds of animals he likes. He told her that he never met many other animals before. He’d seen many rats in his life, but that just came with the joys of living in New York City. But he thought it appropriate to mention he once made a bond with a stray cat when he was younger.

It was a black skinny thing, with a chewed off ear, and part of its tail was missing. One day, when he’d been left out on the streets as a punishment (he told her he was walking home), the cat came up to him and was begging for food. Lucky for the cat, he had a piece of bread in his pocket. He gave it to the sad creature, and it ate it from his hand. He’d never pet a cat before then, but he liked how it’s fur felt when he brushed it, and the sounds of the cat’s meows. After he told her that story, he stated that he probably liked cats the best.

“We’re just alike! Maybe one day I can take you to meet Onyx,” she suggested.

The corners of Credence’s lips curled up softly. “I’d like that,” he said.

Just then, the woman from earlier came up to them with their order on a large silver platter. The waitress placed the hot food onto the table, along with their drinks before leaving them to enjoy their meal. Credence looked down at the plate of food in front of him.

“Burgers?”

“Burgers,” she repeated excitedly. “If there’s one thing this place can make, it’s a damn good burger. Well, that and a mean vanilla milkshake! The fries aren’t half bad either,” she says as she pops one in her mouth.

Meat and fried potatoes filled his nostrils. The burger was as big as the plate it came on. The sesame bun was soft and round, and the edges appeared to be lightly toasted. Crunchy lettuce, cheese, and two slices of bacon coated in mayonnaise and ketchup poked out from the sides on top of a thick beef patty. (y/n) smiled in amusement as she watched Credence carefully take the burger in his hands. His eyes were practically sparkling with excitement.

“Go on,” she encouraged. “Take your first bite! I want to see the look on your face when the juicy meat hits your tongue.”

Credence glanced at her across the table, before opening his mouth and taking a generous bite out of the hefty burger. Various flavors overstimulated his senses. The beef and pork collided with the onions, lettuce, cheese, and condiments to create an unfamiliar taste he’d never experienced before. The meat was succulent and juicy, just as she said it would be. The cut of the beef was thick and chewy, and the bacon was crispy and flavorful. The bun was soft and crunchy and tasted as though it was toasted with butter. It wasn’t stale at all! It was like it came fresh out of the bakery just before it wound up on his plate. 

It was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“Well?”

Credence hadn’t even realized he closed his eyes, but when he opened them, (y/n) was looking at him expectantly. He swallowed the delicious food and licked his lips greedily, chuckling softly.

“It’s good,” he smiled.

A wide grin stretched across her painted lips. It was the first time he’d laughed around her.

“You have a pretty smile, you know that?” She told him.

Credence’s cheeks reddened for the thirtieth time that day, and he lowered his head to hide it from her.

(y/n) chuckled softly before taking his basket of fries. “Here.” She took the red ketchup bottle from the side of the table and drizzled the condiment over the fries in a zig-zag pattern before sliding the basket back towards him.

“Thank you,” he muttered bashfully through a mouth full of food.

“You’ve got ketchup on the side of your mouth,” she told him.

Without thinking, he stuck his tongue out to lick the spot clean. (y/n) smirked in amusement, watching him do so, finding it cute.

“Did I get it?” He asked.

She snickered and reached her hand across the table to the side of his face. Her thumb gently swiped the corner of his mouth. The action took him by surprise. He sat tensely as she did it. It was a quick moment— a gentle touch, and yet his entire body burned with heat at the contact. When she pulled away and leaned back in her seat, the warmth still lingered. She looked him in the eyes, not breaking contact as she brought her thumb to her lips. The pink flesh of her tongue darted out and lewdly flattened against the pad of her thumb, cleaning it of the ketchup.

Credence felt his body ache at the simple action, the tips of his ears burning incredibly hot. (y/n), who was by no means ignorant to the effect she had on him, could only smirk and marvel at the rosy tint of his cheeks. Credence was grateful she didn’t draw attention to it. It was easier to hide how flustered she made him when they were outside, and he could blame his feverishness on the cold. Now that they were inside and it was warm, it made it harder to deny. He couldn’t bear being teased by her further, he felt like he might explode. She must have sensed it too, because she made no other moves to make him blush after that. She acted as though it didn’t happen and continued to eat her food. Credence then too returned to eating, praying that the ache he felt went away. 

It did, with the help of other distractions. (y/n) continued innocent conversation as they ate to keep the peace. As they talked she could tell that her earlier display still hindered his interaction. While they talked, she’d notice his eyes would linger on her lips rather than her eyes; and whenever they did lock eyes, he would trip over his words and look away.

It was cute, she thought.

Before she could decide to tease him further, the waitress had returned to their table, having noticed that their plates had practically been licked clean. She asked if they were finished with their plates, and they both nodded.

As she collected their dishes she asked, “Can I interest you two in some dessert?”

(y/n) pursed her lips and turned to Credence. “What do you think? Still have room for more, pretty boy?”

Credence flushed.  “I-I’ve never had a milkshake before,” he stammered, referring to the claim she made earlier.

She smiled, before gingerly holding up a finger to the waitress. “We’ll have one large vanilla milkshake with extra cherries, please!”

The waitress returned her smile and winked. “Coming right up!”

It wasn’t long before she came back with the milkshake. It came in a large glass cup filled with vanilla milkshake and topped off with a generous swirl of whipped cream. It was decorated with a cherry, but the extra cherries (y/n) asked for layered the bottom of the glass. The waitress placed the glass on the center of the table between the two. She handed them two big, red and white striped straws before leaving them once more. They both took one and put it into the glass.

(y/n) smiled eagerly at Credence across the table. “You get the first sip,” she said.

He thanked her as he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around his straw. He sucked on it how he normally would without realizing how thick the milkshake was. (y/n) watched him struggle for a moment as he nearly ran out of breath trying to suck the ice cream up the straw. He got it eventually, the cool, sweet, vanilla filling his mouth. It wasn’t what he was expecting at all. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, really, but he just knew that the taste surprised him. He never had sweets before. Sugar is a gluttonous indulgence that Mary Lou found sinful. But as the sticky sweet cream slid down his throat, he wondered if all sin was just pleasures he was being denied.

He didn’t have to tell her he liked it. It was written all over his face. It was probably the most relaxed she’s ever seen him. She enjoyed seeing him that way, with a small smile on his face and flushed cheeks. Credence was so invested in the milkshake, (y/n) was sure he would drink it all if she didn’t get her sips in. Credence nearly choked when he looked up and saw her face mere inches from his own, sipping on the other straw in the glass.

She didn’t seem to mind at all, being so close to him. Her eyes were closed as she sipped. Her curled lashes brushed against her full cheeks and her glossy lips circled the straw delicately. This close, he could see the texture of her (s/c) skin, seeing the few freckles and moles that decorated her features he hadn’t noticed before.

When she did open her eyes, he didn't look away. This time he looked in her eyes and saw for the first time that her eyes weren’t just one shade of (e/c), but a combination of different shades and colors to make the color that was distinctly her’s. Similarly, she saw that his eyes were a deep brown, almost black if it weren't for the few streaks of chocolate brown and burgundy that reflected in the light.

(y/n)’s lips curled into a smile. She bashfully looked away from his eyes and into the glass. The two drank in comfortable silence, savoring both the milkshake and the tender moment. They drank the contents of the glass, leaving nothing but the leftover cream and cherries at the bottom. They wouldn’t go to waste. Cherries must have been (y/n)’s favorite because ate most of them. She did however offer one to Credence for him to try. She held the cherry by the stem and encouraged him to take a bite. He thought it was a bit embarrassing that she insisted on feeding it to him, but he took the cream covered fruit into his mouth and found it just as sweet—if not sweeter—than the milkshake itself.

She let him eat the remaining cherries himself. While he was eating, he watched (y/n) gather her things, putting on her coat before sliding out of the booth.

“I’m going to go pay while you finish,” she told him as she got up.

She walked over to the front counter where the waitress was counting money from the cash register. Credence watched as the two women talked. (y/n) smiled at the waitress and said something that made her laugh. She reached into her purse and pulled out several bills. She handed it to the waitress, who looked at the cash in her hands with wide eyes.

“For me?” He overheard the waitress ask. When (y/n) nodded, the young girl squealed in excitement and rushed from the counter to hug her. The two stumbled due to the unexpected force, but (y/n) didn’t seem to mind. She laughed and hugged the waitress back, patting her back in a friendly manner. Credence, having finished his cherries, got up to stand by (y/n)’s side.

“Thank you so much, miss!” Credence heard the waitress gush as he came up.

“It’s nothing, you deserve it,” (y/n) insisted. (y/n) turned her attention from the young girl to Credence beside her when she felt his presence. She looked up at him with a smile. “Are you ready to go?” She asked him. He nodded.

The waitress looked between the two and grinned softly. “You two make a sweet couple,” she said.

(y/n) returned the grin, hooking her arm around Credence and leaning her head on his shoulder. “Thank you,” she said, playing into the waitress’s assumptions.

“You two have a blessed day!” The waitress left to tend to a waiting customer leaving him victim to (y/n)’s smug grin. At this point, even his neck was red. (y/n) couldn’t help but find  it amusing. No matter how flustered he got, he wouldn’t protest.

She lightly squeezed his arm, making him look down at her. “Are you ready to go, pretty boy?” She asked him.

It was the second time she called him that, and it was just as startling as the first time. The pet name made his heart swell in his chest and his brain stutter. But again, he didn’t protest. He just nodded his head and turned his face away to hide his reddened cheeks. (y/n) giggled, satisfied with the reaction she got, and they both walked out of the restaurant and back into the cold.

Outside, the snow had stopped falling, but the sidewalks were still slick with slush and ice. (y/n) took a deep breath, breathing in the crisp air as she looked up at the sky.

“Is it that late all ready?” She muttered to herself, her happy features falling slightly. Despite the heavy, grey clouds blanketing the sky, they could still see the sun shining brightly behind them. Credence too looked up at the sky. From what he could tell, it was around three in the afternoon..

He turned to (y/n). “Do you have to go now?” He asked her regrettably.

Her eyes fell down from the sky to his own. Her lips pressed into a small smile and shook her head. “Not just yet,” she said.

“Why don’t you walk with me to the park.” She demanded more than asked and pulled him off down the sidewalk.

He walked with (y/n) a little while longer, back towards the park. Along the way, (y/n) would stop outside shops and look at the items displayed in the windows. Some things of the things she expressed an interest in were for her, sometimes she would see an item and would say something along the lines of “Mom would love this” or “Aaron has something like this”. But sometimes she would stop and turn to Credence and ask, “Do you like this?”

He had to talk her out of buying him things multiple times. She seemed so eager to spoil him. She wanted to buy him a new pair of shoes and a watch she’d seen on display. There was an expensive-looking suit outside of a tailor’s shop, and her eyes practically sparkled upon seeing it. She tried to convince him to go in and try it on, but he knew if he did, she would end up buying it for him. How he deterred her from the idea was a miracle in itself. But eventually, she dropped the idea, and the two continued on their walk. 

The two reached the park without buying a single thing. When they reached the entrance of the park, (y/n) stopped, and pulled away from his side. Credence halted in his tracks, turning around to face her. He looked down at her as she smiled up at him.

“Do you have anywhere to go after this?” She asked him.

Credence shook his head. His mother wouldn’t be expecting him until dark.

She pursed her lips and tilted her as if in thought as she sighed.

“Should I just kidnap you?”

The question took him by surprise. (y/n) laughed at the perturbed look on his face. “I’m joking, Credence,” she said between snorts. “I won’t kidnap you. Not unless you want me to.”

Credence smiled softly, letting out a soft chuckle of his own. This made (y/n) smile even bigger than before. She took a coy step closer to him, taking one of his gloved hands in her own and swinging it playfully.

“I had fun today, Credence,” she told him. “As first dates go, this is probably the best one I’ve ever been on.”

“Just probably?” Credence mumbled jokingly.

(y/n) smirked, amused by the sudden remark. “Yeah, just probably.”

Credence looked down at their hands, admiring how small her hands were compared to his. Somehow he hadn’t realized just how much shorter than him she was. He always felt smaller than her. He didn’t mind it: feeling small. It was different from how other people made him feel small; like his mother or strangers on the street. They made him feel tiny, like a bug— like something disgusting and inconvenient. To them, he was something they could easily step on. But with her, it was different.

With her, he felt small, like a flower. And to him, she was the sun. She was so big and so bright. Whenever she was around, he felt alive. And whenever she wasn’t, he felt like he might die. He didn’t mind feeling small around her, because, at least when he’s with her, he is consumed by light. 

“I had fun too,” Credence spoke up. “I really enjoy spending time with you, Miss (l/n).”

“Are you always this formal?” She teases despite her obvious blushing. “I enjoy spending time with you too, Mister Barebone.”

She gave his hand one last gentle squeeze before letting go. She brushed past him, striding down the street. Credence watched her as she walked, his heart sinking just a little.

As though she could sense it, (y/n) looked at him over her shoulder as she walked and grinned. “Don’t look so sad,” she yelled to him. “I’ll find you again.”

With a chaste wink, she disappeared around the corner and away from his line of vision, leaving him with a full stomach and an even fuller heart.

That night, Credence returned home alone. He reluctantly walked back to the crooked chapel. His mind was fogged with thoughts of her. When he came to the front of what he, unfortunately, called ‘home’, he hesitated to go in. He looked through each window. It was dark inside. Could everyone have fallen asleep already?

He looked down at the coat on his body. He quickly shrugged the heavy material off of his shoulders and folded it in his arms before quietly entering the house. The house seemed empty, and it was almost too quiet. He pushed his way through the dark and carefully made his way up the stairs as to not make a sound. He’d gotten good at being quiet in the house. He memorized each squeaky board and mastered the art of moving in silence despite his height. 

He crept up the stairs as he’d done many times and tip-toed to his bedroom, where he then quietly shut his door. Once he heard the door click softly, he released his breath and sighed in relief.

His room wasn’t much. It was small and comprised a bed with an old iron frame, an armoire, a sink, and a metal tub that he uses to bathe. He looked down at the coat in his hands. He moved to the armoire by his bed and opened its doors. There wasn’t much inside; he had little to put in it, anyway. But today, he would be thankful for that. 

The armoire was a rather fancy piece of furniture. It stood out in his otherwise destitute room. The armoire was just as old and worn out as the rest of the room, but it wasn’t hard to tell it was an ornamental relic of the 19th century. It had enough space to fill two weeks’ worth of clothes. It was almost offensive how little there was inside it. One detail about it was its hollow bottom. Credence could slide the bottom plank of wood to reveal a cubbyhole. Its original purpose must have been for shoes or winter blankets, but now it would serve a new purpose. 

Credence kneeled on the ground and packed the coat neatly into the cubby before throwing his new gloves on top. They fit perfectly inside and he was allowed to slide the wooden plank back on with ease. With that accomplished, he rose to his feet and closed the armoire doors. He began undressing, stripping his clothes until he was left in nothing but his boxers.

It was as cold in the house as it was outside, but credence had no pajamas that would keep him warm. He had but one pair of old satin pajamas that were too small for him. He decided not to wear them tonight. The naturally cool material wouldn’t provide him warmth or comfort.

After putting away his dirtied clothes, Credence fell back on his bed and stared up at the rotting ceiling above him. As he lay there, his mind would drift to the memories of his ‘date’. Just thinking about her made his heart beat faster. He pictured her in his mind, reliving the time he spent with her.

It was the most surreal thing. Being with her made him feel things he never felt before. She made his heart flutter and his cheeks warm in a pleasantly addicting way. When he was with her, he forgot everything bad. There was no anxiety, no judgment, no harsh words, or abuse. He was just a normal man with a normal woman. He wished he could feel that way all the time.

His hand reached behind his head and slipped under his pillow to retrieve the soft pink piece of fabric he kept there. He held it up in front of him, rubbing it between his fingers. The moonlight from his window reflected on its threads, and he could read the stitched initials in the corner.

“(y/n)...” He whispered her name so tenderly. Just saying her name aloud made his lips tingle. He loved saying her name for the simple reason that it was her name. He would say it a thousand times aloud if he could.

He brought the cloth down to his nose and inhaled its scent. Her fragrance still lingered on the soft fabric, clouding his senses. Credence felt a familiar stirring rise in his stomach. Heat rose to his cheeks, and he pressed his legs together. His mind flashed to the other day in the church, remembering the lewd images of her he had fantasized about. A part of him was ashamed. Sexual desire was a sin he shouldn’t act upon. It was a vile, disgusting act. That’s what the church told him, at least. And his mother would have no part of it either.

Mary Lou made sure to reprimand him whenever she suspected him of sexual temptation, so much so he shied away from girls all together. Yet recently, he’s felt a bumbling desire well up inside of him. He knew what it was; he felt it before. Only once before had he fallen victim to his lusty desire. It had been in his adolescence. He was sleeping when he had a dream about a red-haired woman he’d seen on the street. She was most likely in her twenties at the time, but she was so captivating he remembered her face for a week. He dreamed of that red-haired woman touching and caressing him. She’d even kissed him like he’d seen couples on the street kiss. This mild fantasy woke him from his sleep with a shameful mess on his bed.

He was so humiliated and ashamed he rushed to confess to Mary Lou, who punished him greatly for his lasciviousness. He didn’t dream of the red-haired woman or any woman at all after that. That is, until he met her.

At first, his thoughts of her were innocent. He would fantasize about holding her hand and laying on her chest as he slept. She would caress his face and run her fingers through his hair.  He would give her chaste kisses on her cheek, and she would giggle and laugh, returning the favor. But that changed that day he went to church and listened to Father Blackwell’s sermon. That was the first time he thought of her in such an erotic way.

It was because of this he felt particularly suffocated by her presence today. He became even more aware of her touches. His eyes would stare at her lips more often and glance at the curves of her chest. He thought about how she held on to his arm; How warm and soft she was; Her small hands. He thought about how her finger felt brushing against his lip. About how her tongue darted between her plump lips to lap at her thumb.

Credence bit his lip to keep his whimpers from escaping. His thoughts were filled with images of her, his body reacted on its own. He curled on his side and pressed his legs together to relieve himself of his growing hardness. Instead of discouraging his growing lust, it seemed to only spur it on. The feeling of his thighs pressing against his length brushed an itch he desperately desired to scratch.

He wanted her by his side so terribly. If only he were as confident and manly as the men he saw on the street, she would be. If he were as confident as the man she was with today, then he could call her by her name. He too could take her by her delicate waist and kiss her cheeks. And, oh, did he wish to kiss her.

He wanted to kiss her many times today. He wanted to kiss her the moment he saw her. He wanted to kiss her again in the boutique when she pressed her hands on his chest, and again when she asked him to go on a date with her. He wanted to kiss her multiple times in the restaurant for teasing him so viciously, and he wanted to kiss her deeply before they said goodbye.

He imagined what it would be like to be that kind of man; what it would be like to have her with him now, and what he would do if she was. If she was there on his bed laying next to him, he would want to kiss her now as well. He would have her under him, staring up at him with her beautiful (e/c) eyes. He would brush the hair away from her face and stroke her cheek. Her hands would hold his sides and pull him closer so their bodies lay flat against each other. He would feel her and she would feel him. Her warmth would consume him, and their bodies would mold together.

Credence closed his eyes and smelled her pink handkerchief. If he kept his eyes closed, he could pretend she was there.

“(y/n)...” He whispered her name once more. His hips rocked hesitantly, the undeniable bulge in his boxers was now too evident to ignore. Rocking his hips caused a pleasurable sensation in his stomach. It felt so good, he did it again... and again... and again; rocking his hips as he held her handkerchief to his nose and imagined her.

He thought of kissing her soft lips as he pressed into her, feeling her hands run up and down his sides as they had done before. He wanted to rock his hips against her like he was doing now. Would it feel as good for her as it felt for him? Would she breathe as heavy as he was now? Would she pant and whisper his name?

“A-ah...”

He panted lewdly, pleasuring himself with these thoughts. But it wasn't enough. He needed more.

He laid on his back on the bed. His body seemed to know what to do without thinking about it. He kept his eyes closed as his free hand snaked down his body to palm himself over his boxers. He rubbed himself through the fabric, his shallow breaths filling his ears. But to him it wasn't his hands, but hers; her soft, small hands touching him gently.

It was her delicate hands that slipped past the waistband of his boxers and gripped his length. It was her hands that stroked him slowly. She was there, whispering his name while he whispered hers. The more she stroked him, the shorter his breaths became. Each breath he took was filled with her scent. She consumed him, wrapping her essence around him, and filling his body with heat.

She stroked him faster as they kissed. He kissed her deeply, slipping his tongue past her lips as he’d seen couples do before. He could taste the cherries and vanilla on her tongue, as sweet as they were in the milkshake they’d shared. She moaned his name in her mouth, driving him crazy.

“Ha..-ahh. ahaa...”

More, he thought. All he could think about was how he wanted more. More of her scent, more of her touch, more of her.

Her hands became wet with his slick, gliding up and down his length with vigor. His body was overtaken with a foreign sensation, buzzing through his body, collecting where he wanted to be touched the most. The faster she stroked him, the better he felt. She felt good, so so good.

“H-Ha...-haaaa...(y/n)...”

He wanted to say her name over and over. He wanted to shout it, loud enough for the heavens to hear. He didn’t care if God heard him. He wanted God and the angels to hear so they would know how she made him feel. He was overwhelmed by love and lust for her. He wanted them to know that his body was hers and he willingly gave it to her. He wanted to touch her, please her, feel her.

His eyes clenched shut. Her hands pumped his twitching length excitedly, the buzzing heat collecting at his center. His legs began to shake, his back arching from the bed. Lavender and vanilla, that’s what he smelled as his vision blurred and the buzzing heat tingling in his core burst and was replaced with a cool wave of overwhelming pleasure.

His body trembled, somehow coated in a thin layer of sweat despite the room being cold. He stayed still, laying in silence as he let his body calm. When he finally opened his eyes, he half expected to see her hovering over him with that playful smile on her face, only to be met with the rotting rafters of his ceiling.

He sighed through his nose. Once the euphoric cloud in his mind cleared, shame and regret replacing his lusty desire, he moved from his bed to the sink across the room. He turned the knob and a low stream of water fell from the faucet. Taking the dingy rag that rested on the sink’s bowl, he wet it, using it to clean up his mess. As he wiped himself, he wondered if that was what sex was like. He never touched himself like that before, though he wanted to many times. Now that he had, the answer to his question was clear. Sins were just pleasures he was being denied. 

He returned to his bed, burying himself beneath the covers. He took the handkerchief back into his hand and held it by his face as he slept on his side. His eyes grew heavy, the scent of lavender slowly drifting him to sleep. A passing thought in his mind wondered if this is what it would feel like to sleep by her side. He would do anything to just hold her once, to lie on her chest and listen to the sounds of her breathing.

That was his last thought before falling asleep.

Several days would pass since the last time he saw her. They would be long, dreary days spent in the chapel. It snowed relentlessly for three days, making it impossible to venture out. During that time, he would clean and help Chastity serve meals to the orphans that sought refuge from the streets. The day when the snow finally ceased to fall, Mary Lou tasked him with shoveling the street in front of the chapel while she took Modesty and Chastity into town.

It was once he finished shoveling that he realized he had the rest of the day for himself. He pondered staying in the house for a moment, but quickly threw the idea. He couldn’t bear another minute in that house. Instead, he went on a walk. It wasn’t unusual for him to do this when he had the time. He would walk aimlessly just to get away. He only could afford to when his mother left him alone.

Today, Credence found himself at Central Park. It was no surprise that the park was packed. The low temperatures of the past week allowed the lake to freeze over, thick enough for people to skate on. Men, women, and children scattered across the area. Carolers were singing Christmas songs and street vendors peddled treats. It was a pleasant and lively scene.

He had almost forgotten that Christmas was so soon. He’d been so caught up with his duties it had slipped his mind. He liked Christmas, even though he didn’t celebrate it the way most people do. His mother forced him and his siblings to attend church on Christmas Day. But he could appreciate what others did on Christmas. He liked seeing the kids play in the snow, showing off their new toys. He liked the idea of parents spending time with their children by the fire. He even liked listening to Christmas songs that would play on repeat outside the record store.

Credence watched the people as he walked through the park. He liked to imagine himself in their place. Sometimes he was a kid playing fetch with his dog. Sometimes he was a woman making snow angels, or a man building a snowman. Right now, he was the man of a couple skating on the ice, holding hands with his partner. The pair laughed as they spun in circles, occasionally grasping at each other’s arms when they slipped.

He was too busy projecting he hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings. Like any other creature, he was susceptible to attack. He flinched as he felt icy-cold pellets burst against the back of his head. He heard a sharp gasp not far behind him, followed by a heap of childish giggles. Credence turned around, expecting to see a group of devious looking children. Imagine his surprise when he saw her standing ten feet away from him with a group of children looking incredibly guilty.

“Oh, my gosh! I’m so sorry, Bunny! I was aiming for your shoulder, I swear!”

“(y/n)?” He muttered in disbelief.

How did she always appear in the least expected places? He stared her down as she rushed towards him. Today she was wearing a heavy, brown fur-lined coat and a green cloche hat that matched her boots. When she reached him, her hands immediately reached behind his head to dust the remaining remnants of her snowball from his hair.

She looked at him apologetically. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I feel like a total gink,” she pouted.

His cheeks burst into flames. The position she put him in had her chest brushing pressing against his as her hands brushed through his hair. At this angle he could see how neatly curled her hair was under her cap, falling in styled swirls around her face. Her swollen nose was red from the cold. Her breath that smelled distinctly of coffee beans warmed his cheeks.

Credence’s expression softened, a faint smile ghosting his lips. She was still apologizing to him, frantically brushing snow from his hair and shoulders.

“It’s okay,” he said in hopes to calm her. 

She closed her eyes and sighed. Her head lulled forward, hiding her face in his chest. “You’re angry with me, aren’t you?” He heard her muffled voice say.

Credence swallowed the lump in his throat and nervously licked his lips. This was the closest she’d ever been to him. He reached a dithering hand to grasp hers and rubbed the back of her gloved hand with his thumb.

“I’m not angry,” he assured her.

(y/n) lifted her head from his shoulders to meet his eyes, searching for any sign of irritation. “Are you sure? You can get me back, if you want.”

Credence nodded his head. “I’m sure.”

She believed him this time, her relief washing over her face. “I really am sorry,” she said one final time. “I just saw you walking past by chance and I wanted to surprise you.”

“I was surprised!” He said a bit too excitedly.

This made her laugh and playfully push his shoulder. Her laugh alone was enough to put a smile on his face, one that made dimples appear on his cheeks. He felt her hand firmly grasp his, holding it properly.

“Why aren’t you wearing your new coat and gloves?” She asked. “Don’t you like them?”

Credence had forgotten he wasn’t wearing the coat you got him. He couldn’t, not without his mother seeing it. If she knew about the coat—if she knew about him seeing you—she would be furious. He kept the coat (y/n) had given him hidden with the rest of the precious things she gave him. He wore the old navy blue coat out that Mary Lou had recently acquired and given to him. It wasn’t nearly as warm or stylish as the coat (y/n)  had gotten for him, but it was enough for the winter, and it was the only thing he could wear in front of his mother.

“I do like them,” he answered. “I was afraid of ruining it. I don’t want to wear it out too much.”

It was the best excuse he could think of at the time, and after mulling over it for a brief moment, she seemed to accept it. She then told him that, if he did end up damaging his new coat, she would simply buy him another, and spoke no more of it.

She nodded towards the lake behind him. “Did you come here to skate?”

Credence looked back to the lake. “Oh, no,” he said. “I never learned.”

Another gasp left her lips. “You’ve never been ice-skating before?”

He shook his head.

“Then we’ve got to fix that, now don’t we?” She reckoned.

Before he could ask what she meant, she’d already left his side. He looked in all directions until he saw her talking to an older couple sitting on a mess of picnic blankets under a tree. It appeared she’d asked him a question because their answer was a shake of their head. She waved goodbye to them before walking off to pursue another person, who gave the same answer. He watched her do this a few times around a small area of the park with no luck. At one point, she stood in the middle of the snow pondering while she scanned the area. Curious, Credence walked up to her.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Looking,” she replied simply.

Her squinted eyes panned across the park, her lips pursed as though she were thinking very hard about something.

“Ah!” She shouted, a triumphant smile stretching across her lips. She turned to Credence and winked. “Follow my lead.”

She walked down a small hill towards a small group of children who were playing in the snow at the bottom. Credence followed a few steps behind.

“Hey, kiddos,” She waved.

The kids stopped what they were doing to look up at her. She waved her hands towards her, beckoning them over. The children shared confused looks, before cautiously making their way towards her. She squatted down Asian style to meet their eyes. Credence stayed a couple of feet away, but he could still make out what was being said.

“Can you keep a secret?” He heard (y/n) ask the children.

The kids nodded and hummed in confirmation. (y/n) grinned.

“You see my friend over there?” She pointed behind her, directing the children’s attention to Credence. “He’s never been ice-skating before!”

The children snickered whispered teasingly among themselves. Credence looked away, embarrassed to be taunted by children. (y/n) giggled with them and easily brought back their attention.

“I really want to teach him,” She revealed once their jeering ceased. “But he’s so silly, he forgot to bring a pair of skates.”

“That is silly!” One of the little girls yelled.

(y/n) looked between Credence and the children. “Now, I see you have a pair of skates.” Sure enough, there were a pair of skates laying in the snow where the kids were once playing, far too big to fit on their small feet.

“Do they belong to any of you?” (y/n) asked.

“No,” The little girl shook her head. “They were already there.”

“We think someone left them by mistake,” An older boy chimed in.

“I see,” (y/n) hummed. “Do you think I can take them for my friend, then?”

“But we was gonna use ‘em! We saw them first!” A small blond boy frowned. (y/n) looked at the boy and flashed her kindest smile.

“Oh, were you now? How about I just borrow them? I’ll bring them right back to you, I pinky promise!” She held out her pinky for him to take. The boy looked at her hand in front of him. He lifted his hand and stretched out his pinky.

“I guess that’s okay...” He mumbled through puffed red cheeks.

(y/n) hooked hers around the boy. “Aren’t you sweet?” She affectionately pat the top of his head. “I hope my kid will be as kind as you are.”

The boy blushed and swat her hand away from his head, adjusting his hat. “Whatever, Lady!” The blond boy ran away, the rest of the children chased after him with childish taunts.

(y/n) chuckled and rose back to her feet. She walked up to where the skates were laying and picked them off the ground before making her way back to Credence’s side.

“Are you ready?” She asked excitedly.

Credence shrugged his shoulders, still processing the events of the last fifteen minutes. (y/n) scoffed and rolled her eyes, forcibly taking Credence’s hand.

“Just come on,” she groaned as she dragged him towards the lake.

When they reached the edge of the ice, she handed him the skates and ordered him to strap them onto his boots. Credence did as he was told and sat down on the nearest bench, securely strapping the skates onto his shoes. After (y/n) had double-checked to make sure they were on right, she held out her hand for him to take. He grabbed it, using her to find his balance. When he stood to his feet his ankles wobbled, disrupting his balance.

(y/n) gripped his arm tightly to keep him from falling. “Careful,” she warned.

He held on to her as she guided him to the lake. She stepped on the ice with ease. She grabbed his other hand and helped him step on the ice. Immediately after his skates touched the ice, his heart raced.

“I don’t think I want to do this anymore,” his voice fluttered anxiously.

“You’re okay, I got you,” she promised.

She pulled him further out onto the ice, still clasping his hands. Credence gripped her hands for dear life while silently trying to figure out how it was he ended up in this position.

Other skaters flew past them as he stumbled on the ice like a baby deer. (y/n) didn’t give up on teaching him. No matter how many times he slipped or tripped, she was always there to catch and pick him back up when he fell. Eventually, he got the hang of it. He started balancing himself on his own, gliding somewhat smoothly without having to hold on to her. It didn’t take long for him to relax and reciprocate her playful activities.

(y/n) eventually stepped off the ice, giving him the space to skate on his own. She watched him fondly, taking in the smile glowing on his face. He went around in circles, almost bumping into others a few times, but he directed himself easily. She would say he was a natural.

He went on like that for a while as she watched. When he’d had enough, he made his way back to the edge of the lake where she stood.

“Was that fun?” She asked when he skated towards her. Credence nodded his head and smiled bashfully. She helped him stop by taking his outstretched hands. 

“You’re a fast learner. I’m kind of jealous. I didn’t get the hang of skating until I was twelve,” she brooded jokingly. “Are you done?”

“Yes,” he said as he stepped back on the snow. 

They walked towards the bench, and Credence sat down to take off his skates. (y/n) stayed standing. “There’s a vendor selling treats across the street,” she told him. “Why don’t you give those skates back to the kids while I get us something to drink?”

“But––” Credence tried to protest, not having the courage or social skills to approach a group of children. It was quickly ignored, however, for (y/n) had already made up her mind, and began walking to the street. 

“I’ll be right back!” She said as she left him alone on the bench. 

Credence looked around, silently doubting his ability to find the kids. His eyes scanned the park until they landed on a group of children having a snowball fight. He recognized one of the children as the bratty boy (y/n) convinced to let them borrow the skates. 

He reluctantly got up from the bench and walked over to the children, skates in hand. The closer he got, the louder their shouting laughter became. Most of the children were boys between the ages of seven and thirteen, but three girls around their age had gained their friendship. One girl stayed off to the sidelines watching the others play. He recognized her as well.

“Excuse me... little girl?” He called. The little girl turned around and held out the skates. “Here.”

The girl took them and smiled. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

She looked behind him, frowning when she saw nothing there. “Where’s that nice lady?”

Credence pointed across the street towards the street vendor where (y/n) was patiently waiting in line. “She should be back,” he told her.

“I like her!” said the girl. “She’s very pretty, like a princess!”

This made him smile. It made him happy to know others, even children, saw her the way he did. “Yeah,” he agreed. “She is.”

The little girl looked at Credence, noting the soft smile on his face as he watched you. “Do you like her or something?” She probed unexpectedly. 

“Uh... I...?” Credence struggled to find the words to say. It's not that he didn't know the answer, it was just that he hadn’t expected to be asked that question. Especially not from an eight-year-old girl. Were his feelings that transparent? Did you know how he felt too?

The little girl didn’t wait for an answer. “Well, I think she likes you,” she told him, surprising him for the second time.

Credence flushed pink. “Really?”

The small girl reached her hand to pat Credence's arm and imitated the look of someone wise beyond her years. “Trust me. Women know these things.”

Oddly, he couldn’t help but feel a bit hopeful despite the words coming from a child. He never felt about anyone the way he felt about her. The way he is when he’s with her—the way he talks to her and touches her—he can only be that way with her because he likes her. He could never be that way with anyone else. But he always felt that, for her, it was different. Seeing her interact with others like the children, the waitress, Raül—even Edmund—made him realize that she was kind to everyone. She didn’t treat him that way because she liked him. She treated him that way because that’s just the kind of person she was.

“Hey, kiddos!” (y/n)’s voice caught his attention. Both Credence and the girl looked up to see her holding a cardboard box of steaming paper cups. “I got something for you!”

The children playing heard her too and ceased their fight to run towards her. They circled her like a litter of puppies, excitedly asking what she was holding.

She lowered the box for them to see, showing off cups filled with light brown liquid. “For letting us borrow the skates. Be careful though, it's hot!”

The kids yelled enthusiastically as she began handing them each a cup. Credence walked to her side to help her.

“What is it?” He asked.

(y/n) frowned. “Hot chocolate. Have you never had hot chocolate before?”

He shook his head, causing her to gasp.

“I wish I had known sooner!” She pouted. “I got this is from a vendor across the street. I could have gotten better hot chocolate with marshmallows at a cafe a block from here.”

“I think it’s delicious!” The little girl interjected. 

(y/n) smiled down at her. “Well, if you think so, then it must be.”

Credence ended up being the one to give the bratty boy his cup of hot chocolate. (y/n) watched him as he drank it greedily. 

“What about you?” She asked him. “Do you like it too?”

“It’s pretty good, I guess,” he said, trying his hardest to sound indifferent, but it was hard to take him seriously with the chocolate mustache on his lips.

(y/n) laughed and took his cheek between her fingers, pinching them gently. “Gosh, you’re so darn cute! Do you have a big sister already? I can be yours, if you want. I’ve always wanted a little brother!”

The boy blushed and pulled his face away from her hand. “Lady, you’re crazy!”

He threw his empty cup on the ground stormed off angrily. The other children finished their cups and handed them back to her nicely before running off too, leaving her and Credence alone. 

“What did I say?” She mumbled to herself.

Credence couldn’t help but find it amusing. It was nice seeing her tease someone else for a change. 

“Maybe he already has a sister,” he answered sarcastically.  

(y/n) scoffed. “Yeah, yeah, just drink your cocoa,” she chuckled after handing him a cup. 

The two threw away the empty cups and cardboard box in a nearby trashcan. (y/n) suggested they take a walk around the park and talk. She asked him if he liked the hot chocolate, to which he answered yes. She then asked which he liked better: vanilla milkshakes or hot chocolate. He told her milkshakes. They talked like this for a while. Occasionally she would ask about his family and what he liked to do at home. He didn’t give her many satisfying answers, but that didn’t stop her from prodding.

“So, did you give up on hunting witches?” She asked.

Credence swallowed another sip of his hot chocolate. “I’m sorry?”

“You don’t carry around flyers anymore. Did you give up?”

“Oh. No, it’s not that,” he said. “I don’t think my mother will ever give up on exposing witches. It’s just that right now she’s kind of stuck.”

“Stuck? Stuck how?”

“She wanted to speak at the church to let everyone know about what she’d seen, but the priest, Father Blackwell, wouldn’t allow it.”

“I know Father Blackwell,” she told him.

Credence perked up. “You do?”

“Yes! My father is a big supporter of the church. Personally, I identify as agnostic, so I don’t go to church with him unless it’s for a holiday like Easter or Christmas. I wonder if you’ve seen him. Not that you could miss him. He’s a rather large man,” she joked.

“Does he wear a white suit?” Credence asked, remembering the stocky man talking with Father Blackwell the last time he visited the church.

(y/n) grinned and nodded excitedly. “That’s his Sunday suit! He has four of them. For some reason, he only likes wearing cream-colored suits on Sundays.”

“I have seen him,” he admits.

“Small world!” She exclaimed. “Well, anyways, I can definitely tell my father to put in a good word for your mother to Father Blackwell.”

“You would do that?”

“Of course! Better yet, why don’t we go right now?”

“N-Now?” Credence gaped.

“It’s Wednesday, they have a service tonight. Father Blackwell will be there, and I can try to convince him to let your mother have a set this Sunday!

“But what about your father?”

“We might not need him. I know Father Blackwell well enough. He might be swayed on my word alone. It won’t hurt to try,” she explained.

“I guess not,” he agreed.

“Come with me, my car is just a short walk from here!” She grabbed his free hand and directed him towards the street where she’d parked her car. 

After they reached the car, she drove him to the church. It was a short fifteen-minute drive from Central Park. It was still too early for the service to start, but when they entered the church, a few people were sitting in the pews praying. An older woman was playing the organ at the altar while Deacon Ripley read scriptures from the Bible. He stopped only stopped when he noticed the two walking down the aisle. 

“Oh, God,” Credence heard (y/n) mutter under her breath. “Not this clown again.”

He wasn’t used to you outwardly showing your distaste for someone; you were always so nice. But considering it was Deacon Ripley, it wasn’t too surprising. 

He was a cunt.

As they came closer, Ripley marked the passage he’d finished reading and closed the Bible. 

“Miss (l/n),” he called her name with a sneer. “What a pleasant surprise. What brings you here?”

“I’m here to speak with Father Blackwell,” she replied coldly. It was the first time Credence had ever heard her use such a tone. 

Ripley frowned, taking a step down from the podium. “What business could you have with him?”

(y/n)’s lips curled into a sly smirk. “My business with him would be his business and mine, so why would I tell you our business if it isn’t your business to begin with?”

Her witty remark clearly got under Ripley’s skin. His frown deepened and splotches of red began appearing under his grey skin. He didn’t get the chance to respond before Father Blackwell stopped him. 

“Give it a rest, Ripley.” Father Blackwell had come out from the door to his office. He moved between Ripley and (y/n), and held out his hand for her. “(y/n), it’s lovely to see you. It’s been a while. A year, I think?”

She took his hand and shook it. “Don’t be silly, Father. You saw me earlier this year, remember? For my parent’s Easter party.”

“Oh, that’s right,” he nodded, chuckling softly. “Must’ve slipped my mind. What brings your here, child?”

 “Ah, yes, about that...” (y/n) eyed Ripley. “Can we speak somewhere private, just the two of us?” 

“I don’t see why not. Step into my office.”

(y/n) turned to Credence and gave him a reassuring smile before following Father Blackwell to his office and disappearing behind the heavy door. Credence could feel Ripley’s eyes burning a hole in the side of his head. He obviously wanted to say something to him. 

“Seeing that godless woman walk through God’s doors was not something I expected to see today,” he began, excited to get his two cents in.  “But I must admit, seeing you by her side surprises me more. I didn’t realize you two were so close”

What was his problem? Why did he hate her so much? Then Credence remembered what she said to him in the park. Could that be why Ripley hated her? Because she didn’t believe in the church? No, it had to be something else. His pointed anger felt too personal.  

“We’re not really,” Credence answered. “I only just met her.”

“So you say.” Ripley circled him. “I wonder... Does your mother know about you and Miss (l/n)?”

If there’s one thing Credence hated about Ripley, it was his talent for stirring up trouble. His hobby of collecting and relaying gossip often caused spouts within the church. Credence fell victim to this twice before, each time resulting in a beating from his mother. He had to be careful with what he says to Ripley because he will most definitely relay it to his mother if he thinks it will cause conflict. 

“She does,” he lied as best he could. 

Ripley raised his brows. “Really? I never took her for the kind of woman who would allow her son to stroll the streets alone with such... unholy company. If there’s one kind of person Mary Lou hates, it’s women like her.”

Credence frowned. “What do you mean by ‘women like her’?”

“Don’t you know? Not only does she not accept the Christian God, but she fully denounced him. Instead of saving her divine feminine for holy matrimony, she committed salacious acts with various men that would make the Virgin Mary cry.”

Credence fell silent. So this was the reason. The malicious smirk on Ripley’s cracked lips proved that he couldn’t wait to tell him what he knew. 

“Oh my,” Ripley sighed. “I suppose you didn’t know.”

Credence clenched his fist. He could feel his body vibrating with heat. He was so angry. How dare he speak about her that way? How dare he disrespect her? Spread rumors about her? Was gossip not a sin?  Who was he to degrade and scrutinize her?

So what if she did? He didn’t care. It didn’t matter. It didn’t change what he thought about her. It didn’t change how he felt about her. But hearing such demeaning words come from Ripley's mouth made his blood boil. 

There were times where Credence would get like this. It wasn’t often, but when he did, his mind would think dark, violent thoughts. They build up in his head until anger and rage blinded him. He wanted to say something—do something. He probably would have too, if her voice hadn’t rung in his ears, immediately calming his nerves and the growing anger inside him. 

“Credence, I did it!” 

He saw you rushing excitedly towards him with a big smile on your face. You came up to him, grabbed both of his hands, shaking them wildly. 

“Tell your mother that she can speak this Sunday at the end of the service!”

Credence swallowed the lump in his throat. His tightened chest released the tension it was holding and his hands unclenched to hold hers. Looking into her shining (e/c) eyes made all his violent thoughts disappear as if they were never there. 

He blinked a few times, already forgetting how upset he’d just been. “H-How?”

“Magic,” she winked. 

She hooked her arm around his and began walking him back down the aisle to the exit. “Do you want me to drive you home?” She asked, looking up at him.

Credence smiled, Ripley’s taunting comments fleeing his memory. “Yes.”

The drive took longer than expected. There had been an accident on Manhattan Avenue that detoured them to Harlem. Credence didn’t mind it. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye just yet. Driving through Harlem was an experience in itself. He’d never been past the Upper East Side. Harlem was a lively neighborhood. People played music and danced in the streets despite the cold. Murals lined the walls, and there was a hopping joint around every corner. Credence looked out the window in silent awe, taking in everything he saw. 

“Have you never been here before?” (y/n) asked, noticing his astonishment. 

“No,” he told her truthfully. “It’s really nice.”

“You know, I used to live here,” she revealed.

That, he found hard to believe. His doubt must have been visible on his face because she laughed and shook her head. 

“What? You don’t believe me? It’s true, I swear! I wasn’t always like... Well, we didn’t always live in Kings Point.”

Having something to prove, Credence watched as she made a sudden turn, off course from where they were heading. The townhouses they passed were tall, skinny, and faintly worn down. The further they drove from the commercial streets, the quieter it became. They rounded about four blocks before turning into a barren street. Some houses were completely dark, while others had lights in their windows. The car slowed to a stop in front of one of the dark houses. It wasn’t terribly worn, but chipping blue paint covered the exterior and there were cracks in the brick fence that protected it. 

(y/n) parked the car and moved to get out. Credence did the same, opening the door and stepping onto the pavement. (y/n) came to his side and eyed the house. 

“This was my house,” she spoke after a while. “I lived here until I was nine.”

She walked up to the gate and pointed at the mailbox inside it. Faded letters that spelled her last name were imprinted on the stone from where a sign used to be. He tried to imagine her living it; it was almost comical. He only knew her to wear mink coats and designer clothes. He’d only pictured her living in a palace—somehow it felt fitting. Imagining her in such a small house and living an average life didn’t seem right. But perhaps that’s why she kept surprising him.

“No one lives here now. Sometimes I come back just to look around and remember as much about the place as I can.”

Credence walked to her side. “What do you remember?”

A smile fluttered on her lips. “I remember chasing my brothers around the house. We sat by the fire during the winter while my father read us stories and my mother knitted blankets and scarves. I learned how to ride a bike right on this street!” She looked down at the cracked pavement. “We were happier, I think.”

“Are you not happy now?”

(y/n) looked up at Credence and flushed. “I am! I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s just...” She sighed. “Now that my father has his own architect firm, he’s been so busy I rarely see him anymore. My mother and I were never really close, and it’s pretty easy for us to avoid each other in such a big house. I don’t know... Sometimes I wonder if it was all worth it.”

“What about your brothers?” asked Credence. “You seem close.”

“We are,” she smiled. “We always had each other, and most of the time it was enough. Even when Aaron left to study at Oxford, Channing paid extra attention to me. Still, I want us all to be as close as we were.”

He could sympathize with that. Blood-related or not, Modesty and Chastity were his sisters. They’d been through a lot together, and that was enough for him. He didn’t know what it was like to lose a close relationship with a parent, having never had one in the first place—but he figured that’s what made it worse. 

“Anyway,” she elbowed him playfully. “D’you believe me now?”

Credence nodded. She chuckled softly, taking his hand and guiding him back to the car. They continued the rest of their drive uninterrupted. It was relatively quiet aside from the few comments she made along the way. By the time they reached Pike Street, it had started to snow again. It wasn’t heavy like the days before. The snowflakes fell slowly and softly, fluttering down gracefully on the window-shield. 

The care halted to a stop on the street corner. (y/n) turned to Credence, who was already looking at her. 

“Thank you,” he said. “For helping me.”

She smiled and looked down at her hands. “You don’t need to thank me,” she blushed. “I was happy to.”

“Still, I want to. Thank you, for everything.”

“You’re welcome.”

They regrettably said their goodbyes, something Credence hated doing because he was never sure when he’d see her again. He stepped out of the car and onto the icy street, turning to wave goodbye at her one last time before watching her drive off down and disappear behind the buildings once she rounded the corner. Credence turned on his heels and walked back to the snow-covered chapel. His feet dragged behind him to stall his arrival. He walked up the creaking steps to the door and opened it lackadaisically. 

He began stripping himself of his outerwear when he noticed another presence in the room. He looked to the stairs and found his mother, Mary Lou, sitting there. Her icy blue eyes bore into his skull. Credence got a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach, a vestigial remnant of primal instinct that signified impending danger. 

“Hello, Mother...” He said upon seeing her. She didn't respond. She only looked at him in a way that made him increasingly nervous. He shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

“I have some good news.” His mouth began moving before he could think. “Father Blackwell said he would let you speak this Sunday. It’s towards the end of service, and he is only giving us three minutes to speak, but that’s better than nothing, right?”

“Did your jezebel tell you that?” She spoke dangerously.

Credence’s body tensed. “What are you talking about, mother?” He asked, fearful he already knew the answer.

Mary Lou opened her hand to reveal the pink handkerchief. His stomach dropped as she threw the cloth down at his feet. Mary Lou rose from the stairs, her heels thumping loudly as she climbed down.

“I saw you at the cathedral, Credence. You and your little harlot,” she said as she walked towards him. “I was on my way to speak with Father Blackwell when I saw the two of you skip outside with her clinging to your arm.”

Credence kept his head down, staring at the handkerchief by his feet. Mary Lou circled him like a vulture ready to pick at a rotting carcass.

“I always knew your flesh was weak... but I didn’t know all it took was a pair of big (e/c) eyes to make you fall from grace.”

“Mother, I—” The sound of her heavy hand slapping across his face cut his sentence short, sending him to the ground. 

“Silence!” She ordered. Credence felt tears prickling behind his eyes. He stared at the handkerchief lying pathetically on the floor. Mary Lou’s pointed black shoe came into his view and stepped on the delicate silk. Mary Lou was never one to yell, that’s what made her anger so much more terrifying. She spoke barely above a whisper, in a sickeningly sweet and proper tone, the cruel words that left her thin lips.

“The worst part of it is: you tried to hide it from me. You knew what you were doing was a sin. You knew that God was watching, and you did it anyway.”

“Mother, it’s not what you think,” Credence said through his strained tears. “I didn’t touch her!”

“Don’t lie to me, Credence, I saw the way you looked at her!” Mary Lou seethed. “You think I wouldn’t notice you sneaking in late? That I wouldn’t smell the perfume on your clothes?”

Credence fell silent, realizing that denial was futile. It didn’t matter what he said. Mary Lou had already set her mind about his relationship with (y/n). He knew it was too good to be true. He had been happy for far too long. He should have expected it wouldn’t last. He always screwed everything up somehow. This was his own fault. He deserved this.

“You know what I have to do now, don’t you?” She whispered.

Credence did know. His heart thrashed in his chest, fear coursing through his veins. “Mother, please, don’t!” he begged feebly. “I won’t see her again, I promise!”

Mary Lou kneeled in front of Credence. Her hand reached up to lift his head. He forced himself to look her in the eyes, his vision blurred from his tears. They were unfeeling and as cold as the words that left her lips. 

“I know you won’t. We’ll make sure of that.”

More people die in winter than in any other season. That is a known fact. The blistering cold is more dangerous than the smoldering heat. During the winter, everything dies. The plants die, the animals die, even the sun dies just a little.

“Credence?”

There was nothing worse than winter, he thought. There was nothing worse than being left in the cold, wet, nodding in and out of consciousness—somewhere between life and death. Maybe he was being dramatic. He’d survived this at least twice before. He will be allowed back home, eventually. He would be given a hot bath and warm clothes. He would be wrapped in a blanket and laid on his bed. He would be forgiven.

But, in this moment, he had no warmth. The clothes on his back were damp, sticking to his skin like icy sheets. His already pale skin looked almost as white as the blanket of snow that covered the city, save for the faint blue tint of his lips.

“Credence.”

At first he’d thought walking would make him warmer. Maybe if he moved his muscles, his body would produce what little heat it could. Thinking back on it now, it was a pretty stupid idea. If anything, it made it worse. The wind had picked up, and the snow fell faster than it was earlier. How long had he been out here? It could have been twenty minutes or an hour, he couldn’t tell. Time moves slower when you’re miserable. What he did know was that he had walked about four blocks from the chapel. He thought he might find a place, a warm place where he could sit and rid himself of the cold.

He’d try a tea shop, a restaurant, and a bookstore before giving up. No one would let him in. They were all closed early for the holiday season. He then became increasingly aware how late in the afternoon it was, and how much colder it would be once the sun finally set. And he would still be here, cowering in a filthy alleyway that smelled heavily of rotting food and urine.

“Credence!”

How did she always mange to find him? Her large eyes bore into his own, wide and unyielding. She was close enough that her short breaths gave him the first gust of heat he’d felt since he was thrown out of the chapel. Unlike before, it didn’t smell of coffee beans, but of the hot chocolate they had shared just hours before. If the sweet scent hadn’t filled his nose, he would have sworn she was a hallucination. This was the last place he’d expect to see her. Yet, she always had a knack for turning up in places he’d least suspect. Regardless of what she always said, it felt a little more than coincidence—something just shy of fate.

“What are you doing out here? Where’s your coat?” Her hands flew to his shoulders, her own body reacting to the lack of warmth jolted and shivered.

It was her kind eyes he liked the most. Her eyes had the greatest warmth, the kind that filled your chest whenever you looked at them. He could stare into them forever and never get cold. Her eyes are what he’d miss the most.

“You’re soaking wet! You’ll freeze half to death out here! Come to my car, It’ll warm you up.” She reached for his hand, but he would not give it to her.

“Go away.”

This he could not say while looking in her eyes. It would only make it harder. There was an unpleasant pause, one that continued for a second too long. Her voice, he would miss the sound of her voice as well. He wanted to remember it as best he could, even if the last words she would say to him were full of resentment.

“What?”

He turned his back to her, hiding his tears. He had to do this. It was bound to happen anyway. What was the point in watering a dead plant? The fantasy should have long since ended. It shouldn’t have begun in the first place.

“I’m fine. Just go away,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

But he wasn’t fine, and he didn’t want her to leave. He wanted to follow her to the car, where she’d wrap him in the wool blanket she kept in the back seat, and she’d hold his hands to keep them warm.

She scoffed, her heels scuffing on the asphalt as she stepped back, exasperated. “Yeah, right, you’re one minute away from mummifying out here! Just get up and come with me!” She reached for him again, taking his hand. Her touch. He’ll miss her touch.

“No!” He jerked away from her gentle hands.

He didn’t need to see her face to know it hurt her. It hurt him just to say it. But he had to. He made a promise he had to keep. No matter how much it hurt. The next words to fall from his lips would be nothing but lies to mask the truth.

“I don’t need you.”

I do.

“I don’t need your help.”

Help me.

“I don’t want to see you anymore!”

Please don’t go.

Another pregnant silence. The lump in Credence’s throat was large enough to suffocate him. Every time he tried to swallow it down, it would grow bigger, prompting more tears to stain his cheeks.

“You don’t want to see me anymore?” She repeated. Her voice was as cold and steady as the snow that fell around them.

Everything dies in winter. The plants die, the animals die, even the sun dies just a little. The sound of her heels knocking on the asphalt faded along with her warmth. He’d call out to her if he wasn’t a coward. He would tell her the truth and beg for her forgiveness if he had the strength. But when he couldn’t smell lavenders or vanilla, or feel her unwavering warmth, he knew that it was too late. She was gone.

He fell to the ground, burying his head in his knees to muffle his pained cries. The icy ground didn’t phase him. He felt nothing but the ache in his chest and the swell of his throat. He wondered if that pain would ever go away. Could he continue on like this? With the feeling that a part of him had been taken?

He unclenched his fist, revealing frayed pink fabric; the stitched golden letters staring back at him mockingly. It was the only surviving piece of the handkerchief his mother burned. He’d picked it from the ashes before she threw him out on the streets. The smell of ash and smoke dulled the scent of lavender and vanilla it once carried. But, if he focused hard enough, he could still smell the traces of her perfume. For now, it will be enough.

He sat in the alleyway until the early night sky replaced the setting sun. He would sit and listen to the passing cars and pedestrians in silence, until he could no longer feel the fabric in his hands, or the sting of his aching muscles. His swollen eyes grew heavy, barely staying open longer than a second. He closed them, letting his body relax and fade slowly into nothingness.

Slipping in and out of consciousness, he stayed curled in the alleyway, unaware of his surroundings. Unaware that a car had parked outside the alley entrance. Ignorant to the footsteps that neared his meek form and the shadow that loomed over him. He was oblivious to it all until he felt a weight on his head and shoulders. He pried his eyes open to find himself wrapped in a thick wool blanket.

A dainty (s/c) hand opened for him, tempting him to take it; his saving grace.

“I’m not going to leave you like this. I couldn’t live with myself if I did.”

Her eyes weren’t angry. They weren’t cold or full of resentment. They were as kind and warm as they always had been, perhaps even more. Her rosy lips held a gentle smile just for him.

“You don’t have to see me again after tonight,” she concurred. “But I need you to get in the car. Please, Credence. Just one more night, then you’ll never have to see me again.”

Had it been anyone else, he would have refused. The hold his mother had on him was stronger than the yearnings of his heart. His fear of her would keep him from acting on his desires—what he truly wanted. It had been that way for as long as he could remember. But now, with her hand outstretched for him to take, there was no nagging fear pulling him away. No voice in the back of his head vilifying him from acting on his whims. Because, for the first time, someone had heard what he didn’t dare to say aloud. For the first time, someone cared. 

Had it been anyone one else, he wouldn’t have taken their hand. He wouldn’t have stood from the frozen ground or walked towards their car. Anyone else, and he wouldn’t have gotten inside and felt the heat melt his frozen muscles. If it was anyone but her, he would still be wasting away in the freezing, damp alleyway. 

“Just try to relax and get warm,” she told him as they drove off. He didn’t have the strength to speak. He was far too tired. She could see from the corner of her eye that he was falling asleep. His head rested on the window, his bloodshot eyes struggling to stay open. She took his hand that rested in his lap. It was cold to the touch, like ice, as if no blood coarsed through his veins. 

She refused to let go, instead she held it tighter. “Rest. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

If he wasn’t already drifting to sleep, he would have asked where she was taking him, but his eyes refused to open, and his lips would not open to pose the question. Instead he let the motion and hum of the car lull him to sleep. 

New York City was known for many things: its gigantic skyscrapers, the lively scene, the people. But it was easy for tourists to see what the locals could not. New York City was by no means as glorious as its reputation would like you to believe. Everything great about it was reserved for people who could afford it. Shopping, clubbing, broadway, the cinema; it was all novelty. The grit of New York City was something the average New Yorker would like to escape. If the city was as great as it was made out to be, then why did the wealthy live upstate in their palatial mansions? It’s because beyond the smog and stench of the city was fresh air, and acres of woodlands and grasslands to admire. 

That’s all Credence could see when he opened his eyes from what felt like a year’s rest. From the passenger window he could make out the shadows of tall, snow covered maples and oak trees rushing past. The road was long and winding, twisting through the scenic route with ease. 

Beyond the trees, he could make out the orange lights of houses drawing near. It wasn’t long before the trees were replaced by vast mansions with plunging yards, overly decorated for the holiday season. The drowsy fog had barely lifted from his mind to take in such a foreign sight. As his mind awoke, so did the rest of his senses. He became aware of his body, and how it was no longer cold and wet. He could feel his blood circulating in his hands and feet, allowing them to move and wiggle as he pleased. His nose was no longer stuffed, and the numbness in his face had left. 

Taking a peak through the corner of his eye, he saw her; her eyes focused on the road. The light from the passing mansions cast shadows over her features. She was otherwise relaxed, if it weren't for the faint wrinkle of her forehead, the kind that appeared when she was deep in thought. He was too afraid to say anything. Even if he wasn't, he wouldn’t know what to say. Things had happened so suddenly, he couldn’t keep up.

Instead, he kept silent and watched the houses roll by as she drove. Trapped in his thoughts, he began to realize just where she was taking him. He didn’t know why she thought to bring him here, or what she planned to do, but he concluded she was taking him to her home. He’d never been to Kings Point before and he never imagined going within his lifetime, but he could say with confidence that it did not disappoint.

Kings Point was exactly how he imagined it, save for a few minor details. Under different circumstances he would be awestricken, but tonight he didn’t have the energy for it. All he had the energy to do was count the mansions they passed in his head. It was better than thinking of the events that lead him there.

He counted seventeen pompous manors before the car’s speed gradually reduced to a cruise. He watched as a large manor with swooping gable roofs and multiple chimneys came into view. An untouched layer of snow blanketed its long front yard. Windows were plentiful, all of which were lit with those distinct orange lights.

The car pulled into the long driveway, normally protected by a gate, but tonight that gate was left open, allowing them to drive through with ease. As they drove closer to the main manor, he could see the two other sprawling houses that surrounded a large courtyard highlighting a marble fountain.

When the car came upon the front of the manor, there was a man in a black tailcoat tuxedo waiting for them. The car came to a stop, and the man came around the hood to the driver’s door.

“Miss (y/n), welcome home,” he said as he opened the door. (y/n) thanked him, taking his outstretched hand and stepping onto the scalloped cobblestone.  

When the door closed behind her, leaving Credence inside. The two were clearly conversing, presumably about him. She would steal a glance at him through the window a few times while she spoke. The man, who he could now see was no longer in his youth, only nodded compliantly. When the two seemed to come to an understanding, (y/n) walked around to his side of the car, opening it for him to step out.

“Follow me,” She said, taking his hand.

She wasted no time pulling him from his seat and leading him off to some side entrance of the manor. The door they entered was smaller than the wide, double-doors he saw at the front entrance. Inside was just as grand as the outside. The door they took lead to a kitchen as big as the chapel he lived in. Currently, it was packed with chefs prepping large platters of food and servers organizing the trays.

(y/n) clasped his hand tightly as they bulldozed their way through the kitchen. She apologized to the passing help, weaving her way through to the door that stood on the opposite end of the room. Credence kept his head low, allowing her to guide him. Once they reached the adjacent door, she pushed her way through, pulling him down a hallway that he could see led to a set of stairs.

They were rushing down the hall when they passed a side room they didn’t realize was occupied. Their footsteps prompted the voice of a woman to call out into the hall.

“(y/n), honey, you’re back already?”

(y/n) stopped in her tracks, cursing under her breath. She held her finger up to her lips, telling Credence to stay quiet.

“Yes.” She answered.

The woman called out again. “I thought the shops would be busy today.”

“They were.”

“Well, did you get everything you wanted?”

“Yes.”

There was a moment’s pause before the woman spoke again.

“Alright,” she said. “Don’t go picking at the food in the kitchen! You’ll just have to wait until tonight like everyone else!”

(y/n) rolled her eyes. “Alright, Mom.”

She signaled for Credence to continue walking towards the staircase as her mother continued to talk from the room.

“And once you put your gifts away, come back and help me finish arranging the poinsettias in the foyer!”

“I will!” She yelled back while pulling Credence up the stairs.

She practically dragged him down the upstairs hall and pushed him into a room, closing the door behind them. That flowery scent that was distinctly hers immediately overtook his senses. The wide, circular room was lit up by various lamps and a sparkling chandelier made of iridescent crystals that hung at its centre. The dark wood panelling of the walls contrasted the rosy accents: blush pink art deco wallpaper, tall white drapes that covered balcony doors, the various mix-match carpets that covered the wood floor like patchwork. The broad circular bed enclosed in a silky white canopy sat against the wall next to a small fireplace. On the other side was a door he assumed led to a bathroom.

(y/n) stood awkwardly by a three-mirror vanity, bashfully fiddling with a silver hairbrush. She’d shed her coat.  

“Sorry about her,” she muttered. “She gets like this around the holidays.”

It was overwhelming, being in her room. He’d barely had a moment to register all that was happening. Now that he had the chance to breathe, his anxiety got the better of him. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He should be in the city, on his knees begging his mother to forgive him, not miles away in King’s Point; and definitely not in her bedroom.  

“This was a mistake. I shouldn’t be here—”

“You promised me, Credence,” she interjected, silencing him. “Please... Just let me have tonight.”

He clenched his jaw, turning his head to stare at the wall. It was better than looking in her eyes. He heard her move from the vanity. The sound of a cabinet being opened caught his attention. She had an armoire of her own, though hers was grander than his. It towered over her, composed of white and gold painted wood. From inside, she retrieved a blueberry colored suit. Credence recognized it as the suit she eyed in the window the week before. 

“I got you something,” she said, placing the suit on the bed, along with a fresh pair of brown oxfords. “I know you told me not to... but I just couldn’t help myself.”

Credence walked to the edge of the bed, brushing the material with his fingers. She got this for him.  

She moved to a dresser, where she pulled a neatly folded white towel and cloth from the drawer. She walked back to his side, holding the towels out for him to take.

“There's a bathroom behind that door. You can take a bath and get yourself ready. I’ll come back once I’ve finished helping my mother.”

He took the towels from her hands, leaning towards the idea of a bath. His body still hadn’t completely warmed from the ride, and his clothes still stuck uncomfortably to his skin. She left him alone in her bedroom, closing the door behind her as she left.

Credence stayed by her bed even after she had left. He took the suit into his hands. The material was thick and soft. He could tell by the fine stitches it was of high quality, unlike the suit he currently wore. He collected the pants and shoes in his arms and walked to the bathroom door. Much like the bedroom, her bathroom was big. A porcelain bathtub resting on top of golden legs facing a large window that looked over one of the gardens. Credence walked across the mosaic floor and turned the knob of the tub. Hot water rushed from the faucet and filled the tub. Steam rose into the air, forging the mirror above the sink. He placed his clothes on a stool away from the tub so it wouldn’t get wet.

Stripping himself of his clothes, he dipped his foot into the warm water. Pleased by the feeling of the hot water heating his skin, he pulled the rest of his body into the tub and submerged himself until only his head remained above water. He sat in the water unmoving for a while with his eyes closed. The water relaxed his tense muscles, ridding his body of the prickling cold. As he sat there, resting his head against the edge of the tub, he thought about how long this would last. Why did she bring him here? 

Credence opened his eyes and found a rectangular bar of soap sitting on the tub’s edge. He lifted his hand from the water and took it, bringing it to his nose. Lavenders. 

He really shouldn’t be here. There was a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that was sure something would go wrong. His mind went back to what she’d said. He promised her he would stay with her tonight. He supposed he did, even if he hadn't explicitly say the words ‘I promise’. Taking her hand was more than an answer. 

But he had made another promise—a promise to someone he never dared to disobey so brazenly. He promised he would never see her again, to wipe her from his life and pretend like she never existed. And yet, here he was, laying in her bathtub, washing himself with her soap, wearing the clothes she bought him, and standing in her room. 

Credence stared at himself in the mirror by the armoire, now dressed in the blueberry suit she’d given him. It fit perfectly, as though it were made for him. It probably was. The shoes on his feet were comfortable. At first, he didn’t think they would fit; they were much larger than the pair of shoes he always wore. But after he pulled his socks up and slid his foot inside, he realized it wasn't that the shoes were too big, but his were a size too small. He could walk in them without his toes uncomfortably pressing against the tip. His toes could breathe and soles of his feet didn’t ache with every step. 

He almost didn't recognize his reflection. It was like another person was staring at him in the mirror. He looked like one of the men he admired in Times Square. The handsome scholars who came down from The Eggs to frequent the speakeasies to unwind after a long day of doing whatever rich boys do. He looked like the kind of man she belonged with.

A knock came from beyond the door.  “Are you decent?” Her muffled voice called from behind it. 

The door opened, and she peaked her head inside, meeting his eyes immediately.

“I knew it’d look good on you,” She smiled brightly, making her way towards him. “Does it fit nicely? I tried my best to guess your measurements. I was afraid it would be a bit off.”

He let her place her hands on his chest, smoothing the fabric of any wrinkles. His heart beat in his chest loudly, like it always did when she got this close. He watched her closely as she looked him over, avoiding his eyes. Her hands flew up to the black tie around his neck. 

“Your tie is a bit crooked.” She chuckled softly, taking the tie into her hands. “Let me.”

“Why are you nice to me?” He spoke lowly as she untied the knot. 

She furrowed her brows, her hands halting. “I’m sorry?”

“Most people would have ignored me had they saw me lying on the streets like I was today, and the day we met. Many people did. But you...” Credence struggled to find the words. “You helped me after I had fallen and dropped my papers, then you drove me home. The other week you insisted on buying me a coat, even though I told you I was fine without one, and then you took me to that restaurant. And then today, you convinced Father Blackwell to let my mother speak. You’ve been kind to me without even knowing me. Why?”

(y/n) lifted her head to meet his eyes. “Do I need a reason?” She countered. “Can’t I just want to?”

When he didn’t answer, she understood that wouldn’t be enough. She sighed, focusing her attention back on the tie. 

“Why did I do those things?” She bit her cheek in thought. “The night we met, I saw what that jerk did and wanted to help you. You looked so... sad. People walked over you—ignored you. It was like you didn’t exist, like I was the only one who saw you. I didn’t like it—seeing you like that. I just thought it would be nice to see a smile on your face. Maybe if I saw you smile, it would make me feel better.”

“Now that I’ve seen your smile, I’ve become a bit fond of it. Addicted is probably the better word. After seeing you smile for the first time, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I wanted to see it all the time. If stuffing you full of burgers and teaching you how to skate put a smile on your face, I would do it. I would do anything to keep you smiling.”

She looped the tail of the tie and pulled the knot, tightening it around his neck. She adjusted his collar and let her hands fall to her sides. Her eyes flickered up to meet his. 

“So, I guess the answer to your question is: I did those things because I like you.”

Credence swallowed the lump rising in his throat, sending it back down to his chest. His eyes glistened in the light, glazed with rising tears. His heart ached in his chest, still hanging on to her words. ‘Like’? She liked him?

“And now?” His voice cracked. “Do you still fell that way? Even after the things I said?”

“Why did you say those things?” It was clear she had been wanting to ask this for a while. “Did I do something—say something to upset you?”

Credence vigorously shook his head. “No!” 

He clasped her hands tightly, taking her by surprise. “It’s not you,” he tried to explain. “It was never you.”

She held his hands just as tight, like she was afraid he would fade away if she let go. “Then?”

He swallowed again, looking down at his feet. “It’s my mother... she...” 

(y/n) frowned. She lifted Credence’s hand, turning his palm upward to expose the raised scars on his palms. 

“Was she the one who did this to you?” She whispered, though it sounded as if she already knew the answer. 

Credence stayed silent. He didn’t have the strength to say it out lout. 

“Did she leave you out on the street?” She asked, anger rising in her voice. 

“She doesn’t want me to see you anymore,” He muttered, shamefully. 

“Is that what you want?” 

Credence stilled. Nobody had ever asked him what he wanted. They locked eyes, (y/n)’s stared deeply into his, yearning for an answer. He barely opened his mouth to answer when a knock came from beyond the door, the person behind it bursting into the room. 

(y/n) dropped his hands, turning to face the culprit.

“Aaron, how many times have I told you to wait for me to answer before coming in my room?”

Aaron was a stocky man, just a few inches shorter than Credence. His angular face was covered with a tapered beard. He had the same (s/c) skin and (h/c) hair as (y/n), but his eyes were a light brown. He wore a black formal tuxedo with a matching bowtie. The smile on his face fell slightly as he looked between her and Credence. 

“Sorry sis, I didn’t realize you had company.”

(y/n) sighed, crossing her arms. “What do you want?”

Tearing his eyes from Credence, Aaron turned his attention to his sister, his smile widening. “I just thought you might like to say hello to someone.”

(y/n) raised a curious brow. “Who?”

The answer to her question walked in not a second later, dressing in a black fitted full dress tuxedo. He too shared a similar complexion to (y/n) and Aaron, but unlike Aaron, his eyes were the same has hers. He smiled, displaying a row of perfectly straight white teeth. “Hey. Did you miss me, street rat?”

(y/n)’s eyes widened, “Channing?”

Channing chuckled as she sped towards him. “The one and only—Ow!”

(y/n) had punched him hard in the shoulder. “Why didn't you tell me you were coming home?!”

Aaron snickered to the side. “Told you she would do that.”

“Well, that would defeat the purpose of it being a surprise, now wouldn't it?” He said, clutching his sore shoulder. “Can’t you act like a normal sister and be happy I’m back?”

“I am happy, you jerk,” she smiled, pulling him into a hug. He hugged her back gladly. It was clear the two missed each other greatly. 

“(y/n), who’s this?” Channing asked, looking over her shoulder at Credence.  

(y/n) too looked over her shoulder, her lips still holding her elated smile. “Aaron, Channing, this is Credence. He’s my plus one for tonight.”

“Right.” Aaron skeptically squinted at Credence. “And do Mom and Dad know that you have a boy in your room?”

(y/n) placed a hand on her hip. “I don’t know. Do Mom and Dad know about you and Mr. Finnegan’s daughter?” She deflected with a glare. 

Aaron cleared his throat, wrapping an arm around his younger brother and pushing him towards the door. “We’ll see you downstairs.”

“Wait,” (y/n) went to grab Credence by the hand and pulled him towards her brothers.  “Why don’t you show Credence around? You can bond and do whatever boys do while I get ready.”

They all looked at Credence, who was too petrified to protest the proposition. Aaron gave Credence a look that made him think he wasn’t too keen on the idea, but kept his otherwise cheerful smile. 

“I don’t see why not,” said Channing kindly, flashing an inviting grin much like the one (y/n) had given him many times before. He was starting to see the similarities between the two. 

“Yeah, come on, Credence,” Aaron agreed, throwing his free arm around Credence’s shoulder. “Hang with us guys for a while, we’re much more fun than she is.”

(y/n) rolled her eyes, escorting the men out of her bedroom. Credence’s pleading eyes silently asked for her not to leave him on his own, but she said nothing to stop them. She only gave him a comforting smile from the doorframe as they pulled him from the door. 

“I’ll see you in a bit.” She promised. 

Aaron and Channing dragged Credence down the hall, guiding him to another set of stairs. Unlike the ones (y/n) had sneaked him up an hour before, these stairs weren’t hidden in a corner at the end of the hall. It was a grand bifurcated staircase, with wide, velvet-clad sweeping steps that plunged into a wide landing that split in two directions: upwards to another wing of the manor, and downwards to the foyer. He could hear the music and babbling chatter clearly from the top of the staircase. The two brothers led him down the many steps, and again down the steps to the foyer where a great crowd of well-dressed men and women conversed under dropping garlands and mistletoe.

Without warning, they pulled him into the crowd, weaving their way through fur shawls and padded tuxedos. Tucked away in a corner of the room, Credence saw something he’d least expected: a familiar face. 

There, resting against a paneled wall, was Edmund Tully, drinking from a half finished glass of brandy. His eyes were distant and seemed to dart around the room, looking for something or someone. He wasn’t entirely sure if Edmund found what he was looking for, because when Aaron had called out to him, he gave up on his previous endeavor. 

It appeared that Edmund was not only friendly with Aaron, but Channing as well. They greeted each other as old friends do, with open arms, harmless roughhousing. Credence stood idly by, feeling out of place. It was only when Edmund set his green on him that Credence was pulled into their circle. Aaron noticed his friend’s stare and pointed his attention towards him. 

Aaron gestured to Credence, snapping his fingers. “Eds, this is uh—this is—give me a second—”

“Credence,” Edmund made up for Aaron’s forgetfulness. “Am I right? We met before.”

Aaron and Channing looked between the two unlikely acquaintances. “You have?” The eldest brother asked. 

Credence nodded, confirming Edmund’s claim. 

“Through (y/n), of course,” Edmund clarified. 

“I see,” Aaron hummed. 

A server in a tight vest came up the group of men with a tray full of glasses filled with a pinkish liquid. Credence watched as they each took a glass from the tray. 

“Do you drink, Credence?” Asked Channing, noticing Credence’s empty hand. 

“Sure he does!” Aaron exclaimed, taking an extra glass and shoving a it into Credence’s unsuspecting hand. “It’s Christmas!”

Giving into the pressure of the situation, Credence accepted the drink. It wouldn’t be the worst thing he��s done today. The gentleman made a simple Christmas toast, before taking their own respectable gulps. 

Credence brought the glass to his lips, letting the strange liquid slow past his lips and hit his tongue. Somehow the cold liquid felt like heat on his tongue, vibrating down his throat and spreading that warmth into his chest. It was a strange sensation, but not entirely unpleasant. While it was strong with alcohol, the sugary sweet after-taste made it palatable. He took another sip. 

Credence found Aaron and Channing to be decent men. Channing was more friendly to Credence that Aaron, but it had more to due with the age difference and the extenuating circumstances in which they’d met. He supposed it must have been hard warming up to the strange man who was found alone in your younger sister’s room. 

Edmund on the other hand didn’t address him much at all, only speaking to him when obligated. He had the sneaking suspicion that Edmund didn’t like him at all. Credence could care less. To be fair, Credence wasn’t sure he liked him either. 

Like (y/n) had asked, the two brothers, along with Edmund, showed Credence around the mansion. They took him upstairs and downstairs, through long halls and into opulent rooms that were also filled with partygoers. All the while, they continued to keep a full glass in their hands. Credence had drank four full glasses of pink drink by the time they circled back to the foyer—and they hadn’t even venture half of the vast manor. He wasn’t fully convinced that just one family lived in such a palace. 

They loitered the foyer, the music in the next room traveled well, distracting him from the conversation he wasn’t completely involved in. His eyes darted around the room, glossing over the painted and shaven faces of the other guests. He didn’t know what he was looking for until he found it—or rather— her. 

Descending from the heavens that was the staircase landing was her elegant figure, clothed in a velvety red dress that hung off her shoulders. Her hair fell in waves around her face, adorned with pins that resembled holly. The long pointed sleeves clung to her skin along with the rest of the dress, hugging her figure dangerously. He was the first to see her, and in parallel, she saw him first; her painted red lips curling into a wide grin once their eyes met. 

His chest was filled with a fluttering excitement as his eyes followed her movements drawing nearer. She walked straight towards him, bowing her head shyly as she got closer. The others noticed her too, hooting and hollering as she came, embarrassing her more. 

“The Princess has finally decided grace the party with her presence,” Aaron playfully jeered. 

“It’s not easy being the most attractive in the family, it takes a lot of work to look this good,” She bantered. 

“Tons of it, if you ask me,” Channing muttered snidely as he took a sip of his drink, causing a fit of harmless laughter between all of them but Credence. 

“You look amazing,” Edmund complimented over the giggles. 

(y/n) thanked him, her eyes drifting back to Credence expectingly. Flustered, Credence sputtered the first words that came to mind. “You look beautiful, you always do.”

(y/n) blushed, her girlish smile reaching her ears. Her brothers found the interaction equally amusing, stifling their laughter. Though Edmund didn’t find it so amusing, his once joyous expression faltering. 

“I have to steal my brothers for a moment,” (y/n) revealed. 

“What for?” Channing asked, unaware that he was needed. 

“Mom wants to see us all for a portrait. You were supposed to have been there by now. Daddy’s getting restless,” she told them.

Aaron cursed under his breath, having forgotten about the detail. He turned to his friend and handed him his drink. “It will only be a minute.”

Aaron and Channing hurried off towards the stairs whence (y/n) had come. Before she left, she met Credence’s eye. “Just wait for me here, okay? I’ll be right back.” 

She then disappeared up the stairs with her brothers, leaving him alone with Edmund. And then there were two. 

“Why don’t I show you to the gardens,” Edmund suggested after an awkward beat of silence. 

Credence didn’t get the chance to deny the offer before Edmund turned on his heels and headed towards the door, beckoning him to follow. Out of pure obligation, Credence followed, venturing from the manor and out into the cold (though the consistent warm buzzing in his head and chest kept him warm enough). 

Edmund guided Credence around to the main garden that sat in the center of the sprawling houses. Snow covered the hedges and statues that scattered the grounds. 

“Where are you from, Credence?” Edmund asked suddenly as they walked the garden path. 

Credence shrugged his shoulders. “Here.” 

“No, you’re not,” he said. “You might be from New York, but you’re not from here.”

Credence’s brow furrowed. What was he playing at?

“How did you meet (y/n)?” He pestered. 

“In Times Square,” Credence answered. “She helped me when I fell on the street. We kept running into each other ever since.”

Credence wasn’t sure why he was telling him all this, but he felt if he wanted to know, why not tell him? 

“You know, it's charming,” said Edmund. “How you’re sweet on (y/n). It’s pretty obvious. You look at her like a little puppy dog. It’s almost endearing. But it’s pointless.”

“Pointless?” Credence repeated. 

Edmund stared blankly at the younger boy. A sly smirk teetered on his lips.  “Oh, come on. Do you... Do you actually think you have a chance with her?”

Credence’s silence only amused him more, spurring him to laugh tauntingly. “Oh my God, you do! I almost feel bad for you!” It was only now that Credence noticed the subtle slur of his words. “Listen, mate, I’m only saying this because I feel like we could be friends. It's not going to happen. (y/n) is a sweet girl, almost too sweet. She’s oblivious to these kinds of things, you see?” He leaned against a stone post.

“How should I explain this? I’ve watched her grow up, and I have seen many young chaps like you fall all over her. She doesn’t realize her kindness attracts people. There have been many broken hearts left at her feet. You don’t want yours added to the pile, trust me.”

Yes, Credence decided in that moment he didn’t like Edmund at all. He took too much of a likeness to Ripley; they had the same condescending leer. The buzzing of his head wouldn’t allow him to hide his obvious disdain, and for the first time Credence would speak his mind, unafraid of the consequences. 

“Is yours one of them?” He asked boldly. 

“Excuse me?”

“Your heart,” he reiterated. “Is it one of the ones she broke?”

“I—”

“Do you feel threatened by me? Are you afraid that she might not like you as much as you think?” 

“What did you just say to me?” Edmund sputtered. 

Credence continued, feeling no shame for what he was about to slur and stutter. “She’s only nice to you because you’re friends with her brother and she’s known you for so long. But that isn’t enough to win her affection. Deep down, you know that.”

Edmund took Credence by the collar, “I suggest you stop talking,” he whispered dangerously. 

“You say that I don’t have a chance, then what do you have?” Credence chuckled provokingly. “She said she likes me. Has she ever said she likes you?”

“You don’t know a damn thing!” Yelled Edmund, red in the face. “To her, you’re just a pet. A sad little puppy she has to take care of. She’ll give you treats and dress you up like a doll, but it doesn’t mean anything. She’ll never see you as a man.”

“Is this what you do?” Asked Credence. “You drive away any person who you think might come between you and (y/n)? There’s nothing to come between. She’s not yours. She never was. And she’s not mine either. I don’t care if she doesn’t feel the same way I do. That doesn’t matter. But she said she liked me... and I like her.” Credence smiled. “And that is more than anything you’ll ever have with her.”

A powerful fist collided with his left cheek, sending him to the ground. The pleasing buzz in his head was replaced with rushing blood pounding against his temple. 

“I told you to stop talking,” the assailant heaved. 

Credence struggled to his hands and knees. The punch left a metallic taste in his mouth, and a bubbling rage in his stomach. Without thinking, he lunged forward, tackling Edmund to the ground. The two fell in a heap on the cobblestone, wrestling and thrashing violently. Credence got the upper-hand, landing a satisfying punch in the face, leaving Edmund with a bloodied nose. It didn’t last, because as soon as Credence wrestled his way on top, he was back under him, taking blows to the face and ribs. 

He couldn’t react fast enough to defend himself, and honestly, it was a miracle he landed a punch in the first place. He curled into himself to protect his face and ribs. The same vibrating rage he felt earlier that same day with Ripley danced under his skin. His thoughts faded in and out between consciousness, each unfamiliar thought being one of violence and rage. Pure, dark rage. 

Edmund may have got a peak at this entity—a glimpse into it’s glassy white eyes. If he had, he didn't say so. He only hesitated, a look of both confusion and fear flashing over his once blinding anger when their eyes locked. If he had seen those shining white eyes, they disappeared as soon as they came, her voice retreating the beast inside. 

“EDDY! CREDENCE! STOP IT!”

It was a trick of the lights, Edmund would later conclude. A figment of his drunken imagination. But it wasn’t true. The truth was Credence had a part of himself he couldn’t control—a part of himself that could destroy buildings and uproot roads—a part of him he couldn’t control, that is, until he met her. Until the sound of her sweet voice reached his ears and calmed the blackness to its dormant state.  

Edmund was pulled off of him, pushed several feet back while she dove for him on the ground, dirtying her red dress. The light from the lamppost and house gave the illusion that she glowed in the night.

Her eyes were big with worry. “Credence, are you okay? Does it hurt?” She helped him sit up, taking his face gently in her hands. It didn’t hurt. He couldn't feel anything but her warm hands caressing his cheeks. 

“I’m hurt too, (y/n),” Edmund croaked from his place. Aaron and Channing were there, barricading him away. “I got hit too. Why don’t you ask me if I’m okay? Huh?!”

(y/n) glared back at him. “You’re drunk!”

Edmund’s red face became wet with hot, angry tears. “WHY DON’T YOU ASK ME, (Y/N)?! DON’T YOU LIKE ME TOO?”

She held on to Credence's arm, holding him close. “I think you should go,” she muttered. 

Edmund sniffed, a look of pure heartbreak slapping over his chiseled features. “(y/n)...” He called for her one last desperate time, but she turned away, shutting him out completely. 

“Come on, man,” Aaron said sternly, pushing him back. “Let’s take a walk, okay?”

“GET OFF ME!” Edmund pushed Aaron away from him, staggering backward. He took one last long look at (y/n), hoping that she would look at him again. But she didn't. Her eyes stayed trained on Credence. He stepped back, defeated. 

“I can walk by my bloody self,” he slurred bitterly, retreating further into the garden, Aaron chasing after him. 

“Can you stand up?” (y/n) asked softly, taking Credence by the hand and pulling him to his feet. 

Channing helped as well, guiding them both back into the house. They stayed away from the festivities, taking the hidden stairs back up to her room. Channing had retrieved a medical kit after they reached her room, leaving once (y/n) insisted she could care for Credence on her own. 

Now, he sat next to her on her bed, while she shifted through the medical kit. His eyes trained on a young, black, hairless cat played curled up in a stuffed bed by the fire. This must’ve been the cat she had told him about. 

“Do you mind telling me what that was about or are you just going to stay silent?” Asked after the long silence. 

“It was nothing,” he told her, as she took his face in her hands to examine the wounds on his cheek and lip. 

“Yeah, right.” She muttered, taking a wet cotton swab and dabbing it on his scraped cheek. It burned, causing him to wince. She stopped immediately, looking apologetic. “Sorry.”

She went for the medical kit again, rummaging through it messily before stopping abruptly.

“You know what, I’m not sorry! Serves you right worrying me like that! I leave you for one minute and you’re picking fights in the street! Just look what he’s done to your face!” She cupped the side of his face where Edmund had punched him. She sighed, taking another cotton swab from the kit. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to yell. I don’t like seeing you hurt is all.”

He looked at her deeply through lidded eyes as she dabbed the cut on his lip. 

“We were fighting about you,” he confessed.

She stopped, her eyes flickered to his for a moment, before focusing back on his lip. “Me? Why on Earth would you be fighting about me?”

He didn’t say. She waited for an answer, but soon concluded she wouldn’t get one. He hissed when she began applying cream on his cuts. “Fine, then,” she mumbled irritably. “Don’t answer me. Just hold still—”

His lips were on hers before she could finish her harping. The swab fell from her hand in shock, her eyes wide as saucers. He was kissing her. His eyes were closed, his lips plush against hers. He ignored the sting of his cut as he pressed his lips onto hers like he’d seen couples do many times before. His heart pounded in his ears. He would have kept kissing her if he hadn’t held his breath for too long. When they parted, and he opened his eyes to see her staring, awestruck. 

His ears turned red, and a wave of embarrassment crashed over him, realizing what he’d done. “I-I’m sorry,��� he stammered. “I shouldn’t have—”

Her soft lips crashed into his with passionate force, her hands flying to caress the nape of his neck. Now, it was his turn to be taken aback. Credence had kissed her how shy young couples do: pressing his lips onto hers. But she kissed him like lovers do, moving her lips feverishly against his, licking his lips coyly with her tongue. Imitating her actions, Credence let his eyes fall shut, opening his mouth for her. Her tongue slipped passed his lips and swirled around his, welcoming the foreign sensation.

“(y/n)...” He whimpered out of pure instinct. 

She pulled away, leaving him a blushing, panting mess. 

“That’s the first time I’ve heard you call me by my name,” she whispered. A smile stretched across her lips.  “Say it again.”

Credence’s cheeks burned, but he gladly did what she asked. 

“... (y/n),” he called her name again.

“Again.”

“(y/n),” he repeated.

“Credence,” she whispered his name, sending shivers down his spine.

“(y/n),” he whispered breathlessly. 

“Credence.”

“(y/n).”

She captured his lips in another sensual kiss, pushing him back onto the bed. The medical kit fell to the ground, forgotten. She laid on top of him, her legs wrapped around his thin waist, pressing her body against his like he’d imagined many times before. His heart thundered in his chest, his mind consumed by her. Lavender and vanilla, it was all around him; pressing against him, kissing him, caressing him.

“Credence,” she said between fiery kisses. “I want you.”

“Y-You want me?” He flushed, making her giggle. 

“Yes,” she chuckled, taking his hand. “Do... Do you want me too?” Her voice was small and unsure. 

Credence nodded, lacing his fingers between hers. “I’ll always want you.”

His words seemed to spur her on, reviving her confidence. “Is this okay?”

The touch of her hand on his thigh traveled down to his waist, sending shivers up his spine. The beat of his heart pulsed powerfully in his chest, ringing in his ears. He watched expectantly as she drew nearer, hovering over him. One of her hands rose to tenderly cup his cheek. Her hand was soft and warm against him. The way she touched him was unlike any other. She was always so gentle with him, so kind. 

Their lips were mere inches apart. So close he could feel her warm breath on his skin. She looked at him through hooded lids, her eyes darkened to a deep shade of (e/c).

Credence swallowed. “I...I’ve never...”

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I want to.” 

She grinned, kissing his lips tenderly to calm his nerves. He felt her fingers move to unbutton his suit jacket. She pulled it off his shoulders, discarding it to the floor.

“Just relax,” she cooed. “I’ll take care of you.”

His black tie slipped off with ease, the buttons of his white dress shirt opened one by one the sound of fabric rubbing against each other and sultry sighs filling their ears. His shirt joined the jacket onto the ground, leaving him half-naked under her. He felt exposed, his eyes nervously fidgeting around the room. 

Her warm hands grazed the sides of his waist, delicately dancing up to his chest. She noticed the change in his breathing, his chest rising up and down in anticipation. He’d never been touched like this by anyone, not once. But now, as her hands glossed over his torso causing goosebumps to rise even though his skin was burning hot, he realized he wanted to be touched by her all the time, in every way. He wanted to kiss her over and over again; to feel her lips against his. He wanted to be close to her in the closest way possible.

As if answering his silent prayers, she pressed her chest against his, her breath tickling his cheeks. She kisses the mark on his cheekbone tenderly, then the corner of his lips, then his jaw. His eyes lull back. He let his head fall to the side, presenting his neck to her. Her hot breath on his neck excited him. Her lip pressed soft kisses down his jaw and neck, marking him with her red lipstick. Her wet tongue licked a stripe up his jugular, and he made a sound he’d only made once before in the confines of his room. 

She did it again, licking, sucking, and biting at the sensitive flesh of his neck. Credence bit his lip, muffling his desperate mewls. 

Her lips kissed up to the spot just under his ear. “It’s okay,” she whispered in his ear. “No one else can hear us. It’s just me.” 

Hoping to drive out more sweet moans, she sucked on the flesh of his neck she learned to be the most sensitive. His hips bucked upwards, grinding between her legs. He squirmed pathetically under her, his desperate pants and moans filling the room. 

His body was sensitive to her every touch, each kiss sending jolts of electricity through his body. She left love bites on the expanse of his neck and collarbone, coloring his pale skin purple and mauve. 

She caught his lips in another open-mouthed kiss, assaulting his mouth with his tongue at her pleasure. 

“Is... C-Can I touch you?” He asked through her kisses. 

She pulled away, her nose brushing against his. “Always,” she breathed. 

His hands daringly glided over her arms, reaching around her back. His fingers found the zipper to her dress and pinched, pulling it down her back until it stopped at her waist. She slid out of the dress with ease, slipping it off her body and letting it pool around her waist. His eyes glued to her bare chest, turning red from the neck up. She took his hands and guided them up her sides, outlining her feminine curves. 

She brought his hands to cup her breasts. His touch was hot on her skin, her own blush burning undeneath. He could feel her heart pounding wildly in his chest, and he knew she was just as excited as him. He let his body act on its own, his hands massaging her breasts. She let out a shaky breath, her mouth falling open. 

He continued, brushing his thumbs against her hardened nipples. Her hips rocked sensually against his twitching member. Her name slipped past his lips, his eyes trained on her figure above him. Her hands pressed on his chest, her hips moving in circles over him. Credence sat himself up, snaking his arms around her hips, gripping them firmly. They stared at each other breathlessly through half-lidded eyes. Credence’s already dark eyes turned to black pools reflecting in the moonlight. 

He mimicked her affections, placing chaste kisses under her jaw. He kissed the expanse of her neck, tasting her soft skin. He pulled her hips into him, guiding her movements in his lap. His length strained against his trousers, aching to be touched. 

“You said you want to touch me, right?” She panted. “Touch me here.”

She moved his right hand from her hip, slipping it under the velvety veil that covered where she wanted him most. He could feel her through thin lacy fabric, her heat already slick with arousal. He experimentally rubbed his fingers up and down her slit, studying the twitches and jolts of her body. She seemed to really enjoy when his fingers brushed against a certain spot, so he kept his attention there, rubbing steady circles around the sensitive area. 

Her hands gripped his shoulders, her head falling to rest in the crook of his neck. He enjoyed hearing her high-pitched moans, even as they were muffled against his neck. He pressed harder, picking up his pace to hear more. Her hips jut against his hand, jerking every so often. Her breaths quickened, and she whimpered his name in his ear. 

“Faster,” she’d pant desperately, her grip on his shoulders tightening. 

He did, circling his fingers as best he knew how. Her thighs tightened around his legs, her body stilled but he didn't stop. Only when he felt her body shake and relax against him did he stop, her sweet satisfied moan reaching his ears. 

He held her in his arms, peppering kisses on her shoulder and neck as she steadied her breathing. When she did lift her head from his neck, she pecked his lips and cheek. She held his face in her hands and moved to lie on her back, pulling him down in the process. 

He planted his hands on either side of her head. He admired her from above. Her red lipstick was faded, smudged messily on her chin, having been transfered on his own lips and neck. She didn’t break eye contact as her hands unbuttoned his trousers, pulling them down his waist and kicking them off with her feet along with his boxers. They lingered like that, just staring and admiring one another. He didn’t feel embarrassed. He felt strangely calm. The rest of the world seemed to float away. Nothing else mattered. Not the party down stairs, or the people laughing and drinking. Not Edmund and his jealousy, and not his mother and her vilification. Nothing mattered but her and him together in this room, together in her bed. 

He bent down to kiss her with all the passion and love he could muster. She was everything he could ever want and more. She was his saving grace, his goddess. He wanted to show her how much he loved her. ‘Closer,’ he thought. He needed to be closer to her.

Their lips and hips magnetized, their bodies melded together. He whispered her name like a mantra because he knew she liked hearing it as much as he liked saying it. He felt her hands slip between their bodies, grasping his length. She guided him to where she needed him, his tip pressing teasingly at her entrance. With her help, he eased inside, feeling her wrap tightly around him. They sighed in each others mouth, devouring their intoxicated moans. Her legs wrapped around his waist, urging him further. 

She opened for him like a flower in bloom. His hips moved without having to think. Being with her felt so natural. Every move he made came to him like second nature. His thrusts were slow and gentle, drawing wanton moans from her lips. Her hips rocked into him with equal fervor. She collected his moans with her kiss, her fingers tangling themselves in his hair. 

He lost himself in the feeling of her, his pace quickening. He watched her pretty face morph into varying expressions of pleasure, each thrust of his hips creating a new one. He’d never felt so good in his life. His body tingled and his skin burned pleasantly. He didn’t know it was possible to feel such pure, utter euphoria. 

He fisted the rosy silk sheets, his breath stopping in his throat. She tightened around him, and like a wave crashing down on a cliff side, he came. His body vibrated and twitched above her. He called her name into the air, his spastic thrusts edging her to her end, which—by the sounds of her shameless cries—was as powerful and illustrious as his. 

There was a moment of stillness; a moment in which they heard nothing but their shallow breaths and the crackle of the fire. They could do nothing but stay in their connected position with eyes locked. Credence fell to his side next to her on the bed. His muscles ached and his skin was slick with sweat, but he was filled with unwavering adulation. Eyes still locked, they said so much without needing to say anything at all. His hand found hers, lacing his fingers between her small ones.

They laid there, staring lovingly in each other’s eyes for what felt like hours. He silently adored her, memorizing the details of her features until his eyes grew heavy from exhaustion, slowly falling shut as graceful as the falling snow outside.  

Credence pried open his tired eyes. The fire still burned beside him. It crackled and danced, keeping the exhausted pair warm under the thin sheets. The moonlight broke through the balcony glass door and cast shadows of the curtains across the room. There was no music heard from downstairs and the manor outside sounded empty of all festivities. 

He took the time to embrace her presence. She laid on her side, facing him. Her eyes were still shut, soft snores falling from her lips. She held his hand between their bodies. Her thick (h/c) hair sprawled wildly around her, messed by their passionate love affair. And still, even with her hair a mess, and the corner of her lips wet with drool, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He reached his free hand to brush the fray hairs from her eyes, watching her lips twitch and curl into a sleepy smile when his thumb brushed against her cheek. That smile alone rid his mind of any and all doubts that still lingered. 

There are very few moments in life worth living for. Most things in life are mundane and repetitive, and when they weren't, they were bleak and agonizing. He’d been through it many times before, taking in so much pain he thought death was a kinder fate. But, as he lay next to her, listening to her slow steady breaths, watching the rise and fall of her chest while she slept; he knew he would face it all again, if it meant he could have more of these moments with her.  

#credence barebone x reader #credence barebone smut #credence x reader #credence smut #credence imagine #credence barebone #credence fantastic beasts #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fantastic beats the crimes of grindelwald #crimes of grindelwald #fantastic beasts the crimes of grindelwald #Newton Scamander #newt scamander #newt scamander smut #newt scamander x reader

[tootiredmotel]

For @one-more-offbeat-anthem 's 1k follower celebration. The prompt was "sickfics" and I've never written a sickfic in my life so, naturally, I adapted a scene from one of my comfort movies (Fever Pitch, 2005). HUGE congrats on your milestone love!!!

read on ao3 or below (1.5k words)

Castiel should've known better than to listen to his brother regarding food. They have wildly different palates, and why he agreed to accompany Gabriel to lunch at some newly-opened new-age restaurant with barely any reviews, he'll never know. He wasn't thinking.

He could think even less that night, hunched over the toilet with food poisoning while his date knocked on his apartment door.

As soon as he could, Castiel scrambled to his feet and wobbled over to open it, his over-excitable golden retriever on his heels. Dean stood there in a nice leather jacket, all dapper and first-date-ready with a bouquet of flowers in his hand, and it broke Castiel's heart to have to tell him:

"I'm sick."

He was sure it was evident in his eyes, death breath, hair sticking out in all directions from holding his head above the toilet, but he said it anyway.

"I'm really sick, I'm sorry. Come back tomorrow."

Castiel went to close the door, but Dean took a cautious step, bouquet forgotten at his side. "Sick how? You in pain? Do you need anything?"

"I just-" Castiel swallowed forcefully. "I ate at this new restaurant and-"

Just thinking about it made him run to the bathroom again, and he almost didn't make it on time. He barely registered Dean, still at the doorway, say something about Castiel (Cas, he called him) not needing to fake it if he didn't want to go out with him. A few seconds later, the door closed, and Castiel (still puking) thought that was that. He blew it with the handsome schoolteacher, all thanks to his brother's awful culinary taste.

His dog's wasn't so far behind. "Honey, please don't eat that," he reprimanded her, failing to shoo her out of the bathroom.

When he felt he was done, for the time being at least, he tried to stand. He was weak, and for a second he thought he might split his head open on the toilet seat, but then Dean was there, hands on his waist, helping him up. "I got you," said Dean, over and over again, and Castiel believed him.

Dean helped him to his bed where he tried to sit him down, but Castiel must've been weaker than he thought. He flopped backward, and then Dean cautiously lifted his head and placed a pillow underneath.

"Thank you."

"Got some more comfortable clothes? Something to sleep in?"

It's then Cas remembered he was already dressed for the date, slacks and a white button-up (probably grossly stained, he hated to think), and pointed Dean to a drawer.

A second later Dean was gently hoisting him back to his feet, strong hands at his sides, saying "Here, I'll help you change. Promise I won't look. Too much, I won't look too much."

And that actually made Castiel chuckle.

Dean unbuckled and took off his slacks first, replacing them with sweatpants. It was a slow, quiet process, and Dean only spoke up after he'd taken off Castiel's tie and shirt. "Alright, I gotta be honest, I'm looking. Sorry, Cas."

Cas couldn't help another chuckle. Dean was incredibly respectful through it all, careful not to touch any skin unless he had to, which was mostly to keep Cas from falling over. He slipped a t-shirt onto him and laid Cas back down on the bed, this time with his head where it was supposed to be. That's when things started to blur, when his head hit the pillow.

"I don't think there's anything left in there, but just in case..."

Cas, through hazy vision, noticed Dean putting his empty hamper next to the bed. He thanked him, repeatedly. Cas isn't sure how many times he said it, over and over again, thank you.

"Hey, no, you just get some rest," was the last thing Cas heard Dean say before he was out like a light.

Cas suspects he briefly regained consciousness three times during that night.

The first time, he's sure of. He felt a hand on his shoulder, slowly coaxing him awake. "Here," Dean said softly, placing a bottle of Gatorade with a straw in it on the nightstand. "Drink this if you can, alright? Get your strength back." Cas nodded and fell back asleep.

The second time was more questionable, and he only knows it was real because he saw the results of it in the morning. He slowly awoke on his own and saw Dean in his bathroom across from his bedroom door, wearing rubber gloves and scrubbing away at the toilet with a sponge. Cas tried to stop him, tell him no, please, you don't have to do that, really, but couldn't help sleep drag him back down before he could get the words out.

The third time is the most unbelievable. Borderline fantastical. If it was real, he might just have to marry this guy.

Cas thinks he saw Dean brushing Honey's teeth.

Out of everything that happened the night before, that is all he can think about as he steps out of the shower in the morning. He plans to call Dean, send a fruit basket to his school, invite him on the best date of his life to repay him for all he did, and ask him. It's going to sound ridiculous, did you brush my dog's teeth or did I hallucinate that, and Dean will probably turn down his invite. If not for the hell he went through that night, then for Cas being insane.

And then Cas finds Dean asleep on his couch, Honey snuggled into his side. And yeah, he's probably going to marry this guy. This schoolteacher who happened to pick him and his office as a field trip destination for his math kids. This adorable guy that came back later that same day, thanked him for getting through to the kids (which Cas didn't think he had, but he digresses), and then asked him out. This unbelievably sweet guy that Cas initially rejected, god knows why, but then called at his school and left a message for, Saturday at seven, here's my address, because he couldn't get him off his mind. This caring, thoughtful, heaven-sent guy who showed up with flowers, now in a vase on his dining table, found Cas with food poisoning and proceeded to take care of him, his dog, and his apartment the rest of the night.

Before Cas can think about marrying him again (which he was going to, the hopeless romantic), Honey startles and jumps off the couch, waking Dean. Cas doesn't move, just watches as Dean sits up, notices him, then sits up straighter.

"Hey! Hey, how you feeling?" Dean asks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand. He put products in his hair for the date, Cas notices, because it's now stiffly and adorably messed up.

"Much better. I won't be entering any pie-eating contests any time soon, though."

"Too bad. That was my next date idea."

Cas smiles, the words next date making his heart flutter in his ribcage. His question pops back into his mind.

"Did you, um..." Don't ask about the dog, he'll think you're crazy. He decides to go with "Did you clean my bathroom last night?" even though he knows the answer.

"Me? No."

Well. Cas thought he knew the answer. Probably dreamed it too. But then who-

"The vomit elves came in," Dean continues. "Real cute. Little hats, miniature vomit bags, adorable. Efficient too."

Cas is stuck somewhere between smiling so wide his cheeks hurt, and shaking his head while rolling his eyes. "Did the elves brush Honey's teeth too?"

"Oh no, that one was me."

And that has Cas laughing in earnest. At the sound of her name, Honey came bouncing back, settling next to Dean on the couch.

"Not letting the little bastards take credit for that one. This sweetheart loves me, and I earned that myself," Dean says, scratching Honey between her ears, enraptured.

"Dean, thank you." At that, Dean looks up. "Thank you. You could've just left, but you chose to stay. And you went above and beyond. Thank you."

Dean looks away and stands, trying to play it off with a wave of his hand. "Nah, it was nothing."

"It was everything," Cas says stepping forward, placing a beckoning hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean finally looks at him with a barely-there smile and a gaze that wants to escape, but he fights for it to stay on Castiel's face. Cas is glad he does, because he needs Dean to see, understand, how grateful he is.

"I uh... I got you these." Dean reaches for a paper bag on the coffee table, and that's when Cas takes his hand off his shoulder. "Some movies."

"Such as?"

"Mostly anime porn," Dean says, and Cas is doing it again, the chuckling/eye roll/head shake combo. "And some stuff I like to watch when I'm not doing great."

"Well, for me that would be documentaries."

"Wait." Dean blinks. "What? What did you say?"

"Documentaries. Preferably environmental, or perhaps historical in nature."

"No way, you're not gonna believe this," Dean says, a bit too much surprise on his face. "This is insane dude, check this out..."

He reaches into the bag, and Cas half believes he's about to pull out a copy of Disney's Earth. He's delighted to be wrong.

"Roadhouse."

Cas laughs again, and the beaming smile on Dean's face is what convinces him. He is definitely going to marry this guy.

#offbeat1k #offbeattraxx #gen.fics #spn #dean winchester #ficlet #destiel #deancas #castiel #supernatural #au #creativecaviar #userjennmish #plantdadcas #chocolatecakecas #tuserari #tusercass #seraphcastiel #userdorksinlove #userstarry #userpris #bluefirecas #rambleoncas #thisisapaige #tw vomit #food poisoning #cw vomit #sickfic #spncreatorsdaily #gen creates

[holylulusworld]

Time travel and heartbreak

Request: Could you do an fic, about Steve and the reader where they are together and neither one of them gets snapped, but Steve gets a chance to go back to Peggy in the time jump And he does, leaving the reader behind. However, you think is best!

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Steve Rogers x Peggy Carter (mentioned/brief), Bucky Barnes x Reader, Sam Wilson x Reader (platonic)

Characters: Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Wanda Maximoff, Ofc’s

Warnings: angst, heartbreak, unrequited love, abandonment, accidents, coma, medical procedures (I am not a doctor), pregnancy, mentions of miscarriage (nothing graphic), sadness, hurt reader, soft Bucky, language, did I mention angst?, Steve being the Russo brothers asshole (I still hate you for pulling that shit!), comforting, fluff

Two months earlier,

“I am always honest,“ ocean blue eyes looked down at you while his large hands cradled your face to bring you close to his lips. “I’ll be back soon,” he said knowing it would be the last time he will see you.

“Steve, please be careful,” you pressed your lips to his, desperate, almost crying as he seemed to want to get away from you as fast as possible. “I love you, Steve.”

“Love you too, doll,” that he used the pet name was an indication something is wrong. Steve always used your name when he said those three meaningful words but back then, he said ‘doll’ and your heart sank.

One look at Bucky, the guilt too prominent on your friend's face and you knew, just knew this was the last kiss you shared with Steve for a lifetime. 

“Lying bastard,” you screamed at Steve before he disappeared, leaving you numb, heartbroken, and all alone.

“Y/N, doll,” Bucky tried to stop you but one look into your eyes told him to take a step away, give you time and space. “He told me this morning; I swear.”

“You’ve got a fine friend, Buck,” you huffed, wiping a single tear away. “Didn’t he promise to you till the end of the line?”

“He did,” your friend choked out, giving you a sad smile before he replaced it with a frown. “I am sorry, Y/N, please believe me.”

“I do, Bucky but,” sniffling you squeezed Bucky’s flesh hand, not wanting to cry in front of your friends. “I need time to overthink a few things. I’ll be back soon.”

“You know, he left me for a better version of me, doll. What does this make me?” Bucky was left in a world he was still strange to by his only friend. “The broken toy?”

“We are the same, Bucky,” you whispered, gently caressing Bucky’s cheek. “We both are not enough for him. He will always dream of glorious times with his original friend and her. We were only substitutes, my friend.”

Bucky let you go, not wanting to drag you into the hole he will hide in for weeks, months, or maybe forever. 

“She’s one in a million. Steve will be happy when he comes back,” Sam said, unbeknownst of the heartbreak Bucky and you felt at that moment.

“Sure, he will Sam. If you excuse me, I got places to be or not,” Bucky ran off, not wanting to witness your friend’s reaction when Steve does not return.

Now,

“Please, doll you got to wake up,” sniffling Bucky holds your hand while his eyes are glued to the machines keeping you alive. “You can’t just leave me too.”

“Mr. Barnes, she’s in an artificial coma to help her body recover and give the baby a chance,” the doctor explains and Bucky inhales sharply. 

“How’s the baby? I haven’t seen her for like two months,” choking on his words his grip on your hand tightens. “Will the baby survive?”

“All we can say for now is that Ms. Y/L/N has a subdural hematoma. It is not unusual after a car accident, Mr. Barnes,” opening your file the doctor swallows thickly. 

“A subdural hematoma develops if there's bleeding into the space between the skull and the brain caused by damage to the blood vessels of the brain or the brain itself,” Bucky nods, not understanding everything the doctor said. 

“We hope it won’t add too much pressure on the brain to cause brain damage. I need to interfere before this happens.”

“A surgery,” the doctor nods, giving Bucky a sympathetic look. “Can she and the baby survive surgery?”

“I hope for the best, Mr. Barnes. All we can do now is wait, pray, and hope for the best. If not, we will have to take the pressure off her brain as fast as possible.”

Leaving Bucky alone the doctor looks at Sam who silently enters the room.

“How is she holding up, James?”

“Not good,” Bucky wipes a few tears away, looking at Sam who cannot find the right words. It is not as if he and Bucky were friends before they got dusted but somehow, he feels responsible for the man holding your hand. 

“Doc said she needs surgery if the pressure gets too much. He didn’t answer my question about the baby, though.”

“Baby,” Sam shakes his head, sitting opposite Bucky to take your other hand. “Listen, girl, we are here, okay. Even if Cap left you, Bucky, me, and the others are still here to help you. All you must do is to fight, for you, the baby, and the old man holding your hand. He’s alone too, you know.”

“I’m used to being alone,” Bucky murmurs, not letting go of your hand. “How could he leave her knowing about the baby?”

“You think he knew?” quirking a brow Sam searches Bucky’s face. 

“I don’t know him anymore, okay. He spent almost five years trying to bring you, me, and the others back only to leave us without saying goodbye. 

Steve lied straight to Y/N’s face before he stepped onto the platform. So yes, I fucking believe he left her knowing about the baby,” Bucky’s voice cracks hearing Sam calling your name when your blood pressure falls. 

“Get the doctor!”

“The pressure is back to normal, the surgery was a success but we will monitor her and the baby day and night,” Bucky is pacing in front of the intense care while Sam tries to get as much information out of the doctor as possible.

“Buck, please calm. You are making me damn nervous,” Sam sighs, not able to stop Bucky from pacing. He is wildly gesturing toward your room, not liking the way the doctor tries to keep him away from you.

“Mr. Barnes, I am sorry but right now Ms. Y/L/N is in a critical state. No visitors but the nurses and my team. We will do anything to save her and the baby’s life,” Sam nods, shaking the doctor's hand before he joins Bucky.

“I’ll wait here all day and night, Sam,” stubbornly crossing his arms over his chest Bucky will not move an inch. 

“Same, Buck.”

One month later,

“She looks better, doesn’t she,” Bucky tries while Wanda carefully touches your cheek. She smiles softly at your dreams, the ones she will never tell anyone about.

Silly dreams of you dancing with Steve barefoot in your kitchen while an old song he loved, the one he wanted to dance to with Peggy, plays in the background. Your child plays in the backyard while all your friends call the faceless child’s name.

It is a pleasant dream, helping your mind heal, just like your body but Wanda can’t stop the tears running down her face. 

“Wanda, what’s wrong? Is she in pain?” Bucky desperately grasps for your hand.

“No, Bucky she is at peace in her dreams,” Wanda sniffles, giving Bucky a sad smile. “She dreamed of her child and I just…”

“I don’t know what to tell her when she wakes up either, Wanda. How can I tell her she lost the baby, the only thing left of Steve in her life?” Bucky chokes out.

Sam hides his face in the palms of his hands. “Steve doesn’t even know what he lost a month ago.”

Silence fills the room when Bucky gets up to look out of the window. He barely found the time to think about his lost friend, or rather he did not allow himself to think about him.

“I bet he wouldn’t care, Sam,” Bucky’s words are final, and he does not hide the bitterness behind his statement. “I wanted to visit him, the old Steve, but I can’t. Not yet.”

Again, silence weighs heavy on the friends, only watching your chest rise and fall, rise and fall until Wanda can’t stop the sob leaving her lips.

“How could he leave us behind? I believed in him, lost my brother, my home and still, I followed him,” her voice cracks looking at Sam who joined Bucky to look out of the window.

“I don’t know, Wanda,” Sam tries to calm the angry redhead, but she stomps out of the room, silently closing the door. “She’s hurt like everyone else. I guess it’s on me to tell him about his loss.”

“I can’t face him yet, Sam,” Bucky turns to look at you, a soft smile tugging on his lips. “If he would’ve stayed there could be a smile on her lips and a baby under her heart.”

Another month later,

“I am worried Y/N,” Bucky gently strokes your hair while the physical therapist tries to help you lift your leg. “You shouldn’t look so good after four months at a hospital.” 

You giggle lightly, even raise your fist to weakly punch Bucky’s upper arm. “Y…you,” searching for the right word you sigh, “look good. Short hair.”

Bucky nods, taking your hand to press a soft kiss to your skin. “I know I look dapper with short hair doll but do not fall for me,” giving you a wink Bucky smirks as the therapist chuckles lightly.

“We are done for today, Ms. Y/L/N,” the therapist says. “I’ll leave you in your visitors’ capable hands, ma’am.” Nodding you watch the young man leave the room, rolling your eyes.

“I get it, you are pissed it wasn’t me touching your legs,” Bucky teases, covering your lower half with a blanket. “You have to be patient, Y/N. The doctor said your brain and body still need time to recover.

“…know,” sighing you clumsily turn to your left side, “Bucky…” sniffling you touch your belly, looking up at your friend. “…gone.”

“I know and I am so sorry, sweetheart,” whispering the words he sits onto the bed, helping you to cry into his chest. “I am here, Sam and the others too. You’ll never be alone, Y/N.”

Two months later,

“Look at our champion, Sam,” cheering you on, a big smile plastered on his face Bucky watches you walk toward them without any help. “I knew you will make it, doll.”

You do not say anything, just walk toward Bucky, the only person keeping you going as his heartbreak matches your own. 

“You’re a good trainer, Barnes,” his smile grows when you peck his cheek before you let him help you back into the wheelchair you still need.

“She’s getting better and I think, it’s time to show her the new tower. Stark would be proud,” Sam stumbles over his words, smiling sadly as silence fills the room. 

“Tony, he always liked to make you smile, you know. He was,” Sam’s voice cracks now and you nod, wiping a few tears away.

Two weeks later,

“Whoa, Pepper did a great job,” looking up at the tower, you smile as Bucky wraps his arm tightly around your waist to steady your body. “She’s as impressive as Tony.”

“He would be proud of her,” your eyes shine remembering your lost friends as their features look down at you, adorning the towers façade. 

“I got the feeling Stark’s eyes follow me,” Bucky jokes, breaking the awkward moment. “I mean, he had a huge ego and now there is a huge picture of him painted onto the façade.”

“It’s a hologram according to Bruce,” Sam corrects, and you chuckle at the bitchface Bucky throws at Sam. “I mean, that’s a difference, Barnes.”

“Smartass,” grunting the word Bucky leads you toward the tower. Wanda is already waving at you pointing at Morgan who runs toward you a smile on her face.

“Auntie Y/N,” the girl sniffles holding out her hands. “I am glad you are no longer sleeping beauty.” 

Bucky laughs at her words, still, his heart hurts as you lost months of your life and your baby only for Steve being happy in another lifetime.

Three months later,

“It’s been a while,” whispering the words you look at Bucky who nods silently. 

There is comfort only he can give you. Maybe as you are two wounded souls, hurt by the very same man. “I feel like I cheated on him.”

The kiss was short, sweet and all you could ask for but there is this feeling in your guts as if you betrayed Steve. 

Your brain knows you are wrong as said man left your months ago for another woman, but your heart was not able to catch up, as it missed the chance to process that you got left behind.

“That’s normal. You were in a coma, could not cry, scream, or throw things around as the accident took this from you,” Bucky understands you, tries to pull away but you shake your head, pressing your lips to his warm pillows again.

“We won’t let him take this away from us too, Buck. He can go and rot in hell or dance all his life with that woman he left us for,” voice trembling you touch Bucky’s cheek.

“I will not give you up.”

“Same, doll,” Bucky stammers before he feels your arms wrap around his neck. “I loved you since I met you.”

Two years later,

“I know it took me long to come here,” whispering the words you lean back, watching a squirrel run toward a tree.

“Will you ever forgive me,” Steve or rather his aged version rasps, glancing at you folding your hands.

You slowly get up, looking into the distance. “I forgive you for being a selfish bastard and I have to thank you at the same time,” you smile as Steve wrinkles his forehead.

“I don’t understand,” Steve whispers.

“You gave me the chance to be free again. I had the chance to find the love of my life thanks to you,” you look at Bucky waiting at the end of the park, your baby boy in his arms.

“I got my husband, my son and a baby girl on her way,” you peck Steve’s cheek, turning to leave.

“The only thing I'll never forgive you is that due to the heartbreak you willingly caused I had an accident, lost months of my life, and,” you sniffle silently, “our baby.”

“Baby!” Steve chokes out, feeling his heart break at the thought he could’ve had it all - with you. 

“I hope she was worth it, Steve. I hope, from the depths of my heart, you had a wonderful life with her.”

One last time you look at Steve before you are the one walking away, leaving him behind...

All works Tags

@yolobloggers​

@shikshinkwon​

@miraclesoflove​

@mogaruke​

@shatteredabby​

@soryuwifeyxx​

@letsdisneythings​

@i-love-superhero​

@psychicforest​

@thevelvetseries​

@deanmonandnegansbitch​

@sabascio​

@goodgodimaweirdperson​

@that-place-called-middle-earth​

@trumpettay​

@zxph-yr​

@belovedcherry​

@matsumama​

@rynabarnesrogers-reading​

@emoryhemsworth​

@buckybarnesplumwhore​

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Marvel Tags

@stuckys-whore​

@notyourtypicalrose​

@voltage-my2dlove​

@officialmarvelwhore​

@randomgirlkensy​

@juniorhuntersam​

@lumar014​

@doctorswife221b​

@sister-winchesters99​

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@chaoticfiretaconerd​

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@fandom-princess-forevermore​

@amandamdiehl​

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@lunaticgurly​

@xxlikeheavenxx​

@supernaturalwintersoldier​

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Steve Rogers/Chris Evans Tags

@roonyxx​

@stylesismyhubs​

@multisuperfandom​

@mrspeacem1nusone​

@fallenoutofrose​

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@heyiamthatbitch​

@rosalynshields​

@void-hoechlin​

@patzammit​

@donutloverxo​​

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Bucky Barnes/Sebastian Stan Tags

@rynabarnesrogers​​

@marshyrebelcloud​​​​

@buchanan-lover​​​

@rosalynshields​​

#tw: miscarriage #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #angst #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #post endgame #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #sam wilson #bucky x you #steve x reader #steve x y/n #former steve rogers x reader

[threeminutesoflife]

Hindsight is 20/20

Hindsight is 20/20

Pairings: Dark!Steve x Dark!Reader Warrnings: death of minor character, stalking, masturbation, oral sex- male receiving Word Count: 3k a/n: Congratulations on the 15k milestone, @sherrybaby14 sweet Scream Queen!❣️ Thank you for hosting #promptchallenge, Lady! 🧡🔪

Challenge prompt/Summary: #27/Steve- “Stalker!Steve finally gives up and the reader misses him so she starts stalking him and he likes it!”

It was all obnoxiously poetic- the way her hair fanned out and struck the air, the whiplash of movement, and the extension of her flailing arms. 

Her body performed a morbid ballet when you pushed her onto the subway tracks.

Her screams, their gasps, the failed brakes; between the brutality of gravity and the law of physics, the bitch even died pretty.

The overcrowded platform consumed your senses. The raunchy, celebratory cheers bounced off the tunnel walls and rang in your head as fans piled inhumanly close, trying to return home.

Beer breath and belches lingered overhead, sweat and humidity draped the subway tiles. Shoulders knocked into shoulders, and the little shoves and multiple bumps made your teeth grind.

Despite the acidic shuffle, your eyes stayed on her. She stood past the edge of the platform’s caution line, blissfully unaware. Cell phone in hand and fashionable jeans over her ass, she kept giggling at the phone’s screen. Fuck, she was annoying.

As you snaked closer, you saw her thumb jet across the device. Was she texting him? Were his replies the ones making her smile like that? 

Your next thoughts made you pause behind a column with a frown. Does he send her gifts like the ones he sent you? Did she receive that gift?

That gift you still hold when falling asleep most nights- the teddy bear with the secret recording in his chest. 

Does her teddy bear “growl” like yours?

You were sure Hallmark never intended for their sentimental creation to be used so obscenely, capturing the sounds of an overly-infatuated man pleasuring himself on the stuffed toy's recorder. People love in different ways, but you were sure his type of keepsake moment wasn’t marketable as a card in their stores.

At first, you were repulsed at the discovery. Your ear pressed against the chest of the bear, soft synthetic tickling your chin. Your brows furrowed slightly as you attempted to decode the rustling sounds. Juggling the bear until you finally located the volume button.

His deep, broken moans erupted from the toy’s chest, clarifying what the contents of the previously recorded message were. You never heard Steve like this. The revelation made your thigh muscles flex. Disgust and arousal hit you in one confusing punch. Annoyance and embarrassment slapped you next. 

You dated Steve, twice; once for a late breakfast because he was leaving that afternoon for a mission, and the other was for lunch because he just returned. Both meals were eaten behind baseball hats and glasses so people wouldn't recognize him. Missions and responsibilities made it difficult to see him, and it didn’t help that both dates were cut short due to emergencies on his end. When he called after several weeks of radio silence, inviting you for brunch- you declined. You told him that you needed someone who could be present, someone who could really see you. You wished him well but said he wasn’t the one for you.

Over the clinking of his belt buckle and material shuffling rapidly on the recorder, Steve wished you farewell, “I wish you could see me as I’ve always seen you, sunshine. Goodbye.” 

Throwing the obscene teddy bear back into the box, you kicked the package across the room.

After months of hangup calls from private numbers, flowers sent with no names attached, and an eerie feeling of a baseball-capped figure following you on the other side of the street- Steve finally let you go.

So why did your panties ache at the weight of that word- goodbye? Why was there an odd feeling of uncertainty growing in the pit of your stomach?

You were supposed to feel relief, but you didn't.  

The weight of his absence slowly grew. You didn’t want him before, he didn’t have time for you. So why should you want him now? 

So what if you didn’t have an acquaintance's admiration anymore? So what if your phone’s notification fell into a coma? 

So what…

You didn’t want him, you convinced yourself that- but a small part of you liked knowing he was looking. Unsure how or when it happened, you began to actually miss him.

One night you pulled the obscene bear out of storage. The box should have been thrown out when first receiving it, but you somehow never found the time. 

The bear still looked sharp and dapper, a little red bowtie garnishing the salacious audio recording.

The toy’s simple recorder didn’t have fast forward or rewind. So in your pining for Steve’s attention, you listened to his long audio of grunting and groaning- repeatedly. 

You wanted to hear every noise he made. You needed the timber in his voice. The high and lows of his moans, his breath catching in his chest. The sounds he made when pleasuring himself to the thought of you...

You tried masking the reasons for your actions to yourself. You just needed to hear him say, “goodbye.” Hearing him say that one simple word would make it more official. Of course, hearing him say it and you accepting it were entirely different things.

As you repeatedly hit the play button and rested on the bed with the grunting toy beside you, you knew this was a mistake. Because he sounded good, damn good. 

And that night started one of many. You’d mewl in sync with Steve's muffled groans coming from the stuffed bear's speakers, slipping one hand down your panties and covering your breast with the other. You unintentionally programmed yourself to cum as he did on the recording. Which meant, you needed to hear him cum on that audio for you to also find release.

___

The ringing in your head grew louder as you watched his new interest, your replacement, stand by the edge of the platform. 

Her carefree, glossy smile seared itself in your mind as you replayed the image of Steve wrapping his arms around her on the sidewalk. He wished her good night with a soft kiss before letting her descend the subway’s stairs. 

The longer you watched her, the easier it was for your jealousy to distort the fans’ cheers and drunken singing for the championship win into a slow chant of- “Push. Push. Push.” 

Before your mind knew what your body had planned, your legs moved and arms shoved.

She was dead and you didn't mean to do it, at least- not out in the open. But everything in you just snapped. 

You allowed the chaos of the crowd to swallow you and drown you in their sea of scared bystanders. Some pulled out phones, while others ran for high ground.

The passing subway train tried braking sooner; gears sparking and metal grinding. It was now half-hidden in the tunnel and half-exposed alongside the platform. The people on board shouted in horror after understanding why the platform crowd’s screamed for the non-stop subway train to stop. 

Pushing your glasses further up your nose, you frantically scanned for the easiest escape. Pulling the bill of your cap down further over your face, you ran.  

An emergency warning blared through the tunnel. Over the sirens, a voice encouraged everyone to stay calm. However, it only did the opposite- stoking people’s fears and peeking people’s curiosities. 

Wearing a disguise similar to yours, Steve stalked your movements behind the thick-rimmed glasses. Off to the side and engulfed in shadows, he watched you under the rounded bill of his baseball cap. When his prior date’s screams broke out, he pulled his glasses down in shock but quickly recovered and slid them back into place. 

He was taken back that you ended the girl so suddenly; surprised and oddly proud. Usually, he was the one who took the action and blocked your would-be suitors. But you doing this for him was a dream come true. His dick twitched at your declaration of love. You finally proved how much he meant to you. 

Steve had pretended to leave you alone too long for his liking. But he was never far and you certainly weren't ever forgotten. Tonight, you finally showed him that his waiting was worth it- and that he wasn’t forgotten either. 

After politely thanking and kissing the bland girl goodbye, he expected you to trail him back to his residence and wait until he entered his brownstone like you’ve done after his other dates.

It’s been your pattern for the last two months, but to his annoyance, you never approached him further and he was growing restless. He thought dating other women would smoke you out. But you stayed burrowed. However this time, he took the same girl out more than once. She got the third date you never did. 

He wished he thought of recycling a date sooner, maybe you would have reacted quicker and not so much time would have been spent apart.

But you returned to him and that’s what mattered. 

After adjusting his hardness, he checked the tracker on your phone and noted the direction you were headed. With muscle memory, he twisted through the crowd and made his way towards your apartment. You needed him.

Your breathing was labored as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, excessively stomping out your anger on each step as you replayed Steve kissing her.

She deserved what you did to her. Three dates were too many, you should have ended her after two. 

Kicking off your shoes and throwing your hat aside in the apartment, you sneered at the thought of them together. You aggressively stripped your way down the hallway to the bathroom. Your shucked clothes knocked against the hanging picture frames.

After throwing your bra at your reflection in the mirror, you twisted the shower knobs into submission. The pipes groaned and the water slowly heated as you braced your arms on the counter. Leaning towards the mirror, you took a hard look at yourself. 

After surveying the way the prop glasses perched themselves on the bridge of your nose, your eyes tracked over the curve of your chin and moved down to the elastic band of your panties -

THUMP  

Your eyes snapped back up to your reflection as you frowned at the noise. Shaking your head at your imagination, you pushed yourself off the counter and reached for the candles. With the extra stress tonight brought, scented candles would be soothing- 

THUMP

Was it your imagination? You turned the shower off and slowly opened the bathroom door. Your ears strained to catch the noise, but no sounds greeted you. Exhaling a huff, you were about to close the bathroom door when you heard a low rustling coming from your bedroom.

Wrapping a towel around your panty-covered body, your bare feet padded softly down the hallway to the incoherent sounds. Toeing open the door, your towel partially slipped when you saw Steve sitting on the edge of your bed. Hat and glasses on, he held the teddy bear that was currently playing your favorite lewd recording.   

Steve jostled the bear back and forth between his hands. Tossing it up in the air, he caught it midfall, “There’s my sunshine! Been taking care of our bear, I see.”

Almost naked and fully shocked, you stared at Steve from the doorway, “What are you doing here?”

His eyes didn’t match the smirk on his face, “Now, sunshine, drop the act. I know what you did for us. I saw it.”

The bear moaned in his hands as you stared at him dumbfounded for getting caught. Trying for time, you asked, “Us being- you and the bear?”

“No, sunshine. You and me,” Steve gave a dry chuckle before tossing the stuffed animal over his shoulder. “It’s kind of odd being in your room and on your bed. Well, at least with you knowing I’m here this time, I mean.”

The towel dipped slightly from your grasp at his admission. 

Steve caught your reaction with a grin, but his expression grew serious when he said, “All I ever wanted was for you to see me like I see you, sunshine.”

You felt his gaze roam over your exposed skin, trying to gauge your reaction to his ambushed presence. A part of you was glad to see him, but you thought you’d have more time to practice your confession about your feelings.

But maybe this was the push you needed, the tug in the right direction to be fully honest with yourself.

Looking at Steve, the screams of the woman you killed and the crowd’s outcries of fear failed to replay in your head. There was no play track of guilt. 

The spot within you that should have been filled with remorse was replaced by the calming scent of his cologne and the enjoyment of hearing the recording of him pleasuring himself from the disregarded bear. Steve was in your room- and that realization caused a sweet wetness to gather between your thighs. 

Steve toed out of his shoes and stood in front of your bed. Tossing his shirt aside, he stated, “I saw you missed me.” 

You slowly dragged your eyes away from his tented pants, “Maybe I only missed the attention?”

Steve snorted at your words and walked closer, “No, sunshine. You missed us. And you gifted me such a sweet gesture- just like how I gifted you that bear. Granted yours was a bit more… homicidal, but it was sweet nonetheless.” 

Your insides warmed at his touch. You rested your face in his palms as he cupped and rubbed his thumbs along your cheeks.

Steve gently touched his forehead against yours, pressing your glasses together. His bare chest grazed your towel, “You missed me, sunshine. Admit it.”

Looking over the rim of your glasses, his thumbs swept over your cheeks one more time before you reached for him and admitted what he wanted to hear with a kiss. 

You missed his attention, you missed him.

The old recorded sounds of him cumming filled the room. You bit his bottom lip in the kiss, earning a growl from him. 

You needed this, you needed him.

“You’re perfect for me. All this fire blazing under your skin, sunshine,” Steve moaned and praised you before deepening the kiss.

Without breaking his lips from yours, he took your elbow and pulled you towards the bed. Your fingers threaded through his hair as you stumbled over the forgotten towel.

“I can’t believe we’re here. I wanted this for so long,” Steve whispered into the curve of your neck and his hands roaming over your body. “I want to taste you. Feel your tight pussy wrapped around me. Fuck! I can’t decide how to take you first.”

“..No,” shaking your head at his words. 

“What?”

“No. You don’t get to decide what we do first. I killed for us, I decide.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed with impatience, “...You made me wait.”

“So did you,” you countered, unzipping his pants and sliding your hands in his boxers. “But- I get to decide.”

Steve’s hips snapped forward when you wrapped your fingers around his cock. You eyed the stuffed bear in the corner and smiled wolfishly at Steve, “Be just as vocal for me, handsome.”

He struggled to talk as you ran your hand up and down his shaft with his pre-cum, “Keep... keep the glasses... on.”

Your hand stilled around him and your eyebrow arched. Steve looked hungry and confused until it registered that he tried ordering you. 

“...P-please,” Steve whimpered a request at your motionless hold. “Please, keep the glasses on.”

With a sharp nod, your grip tightened again and you worked another groan out of him. You quickly pulled his pants down and pushed him to bed’s edge. Running your hands over his muscled thighs, you moved his legs apart and settled yourself before him. 

Steve watched as you worked your way up his inner thighs, making him hiss in pleasure from every teasing squeeze and nibble.

“I’ll keep my glasses on but then you keep yours on, too,” you winked before pumping him towards your mouth and swirling your tongue around his red tip.

Steve inhaled with a stutter, lost in the way your wet lips felt wrapped around the head of his cock. He moaned in agreement when you took him further into your warm mouth. 

His labored breaths made your thighs rub together. All those familiar sounds you craved when masturbating to his recording were sharper and deeper now that he loomed over you. 

Steve was captivated by you- and you felt powerful. Each long lick made his body shake. Each stroke and twist caused his hips to jolt off the bed. Cupping his tightening balls, you bobbed your head further down this length. Bracing yourself against his thighs, you looked up at him with wide eyes and hollowed cheeks.

Another growl left his chest as his eyes caught yours. Tilting his head back, he exhaled darkly. Eyes closed behind the thick frames, he cursed in pleasure. 

“F- Fuck,” Steve stammered as you hummed against him.

Your glasses pressed against your face as you buried yourself closer into his pelvis. Your cheeks brushed the inside of his thighs as you took him fully to the hilt. His saltiness on your tongue and his masculine scent clouded your senses, making your panties wetter. 

Steve desperately tried to hold it together but having you before him, strong and glorious, left him unable to hold back much longer. 

“Let me cum, please,” he begged.

You pulled him out with a pop. His dick bounced against his thick thighs and smeared wetness along his stomach. The sudden coolness caused goosebumps to fan across his skin. 

“Please, sunshine.”

Rocking back on your heels, you watched him; goosebumps spreading, chest heaving, hips jolting, cock throbbing. You did this. You brought this incredible man into a pleading state of ecstasy and blind frenzy.  

As your fingertips playfully ran along his length, you rose higher on your knees. You pulled him into a kiss with one hand and stroked his cock faster in your other, mixing the pressure with a tight fist and loose palm.

The taste of him was on your lips as you whispered encouragements, “Let go, handsome. I’ve got you.”

Steve shattered at your words, his fists painfully pressed into the mattress as his ass lifted off the bed from the pleasure. He spilled himself over your grip, tumbling past your knuckles as you milked him.

“Such a good boy,” you praised proudly.

Loosening your hold, you raised your stained hand to his glasses and smeared himself over his lenses, “It took me a while, Steve- but I see you now.”

#dark!steve x dark!reader #dark!reader #dark!steve x reader #prompt challenge #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x dark!reader #dark!marvel #dark!fic #dark!fanfiction

[multimilfs]

Lilith Clawthorne x Fem!Reader: Lessons Learned

Summary: thewriting-dragon requested “More Buff Bimbo Reader X Lilith Clawthorne, but like maybe with a touch of angst? Or even better Buff Bimbo Reader after Lilith splits the curse.” 

A/N: I think I took a different approach to this than you intended tbh. You said some angst and I sprinted with it, but I hope that you like it! 

Warning(s): None 

In the Boiling Isles, there is a very strict hierarchy. A ranking of importance that goes down the line. Emperor, Emperor's advisor, and so on. Lilith Clawthorne is the third most important person in the Boiling Isles.

Being so important was something she’d craved from a young age. The idea of being in charge of her life, for once. But power isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be. It comes with rules. A lot of them.

The expectations befalling someone so important could lead to a lot of different behaviors. Stress, narcissism, and most obvious, anger. Anger at the slightest imperfection or missing piece. That not everything was fitting perfectly into their master plan.

“Honey, are you ready?”

You peeked into the room where Lilith was readying herself for tonight’s event, stopping to admire her. She was a sight to behold. Glimmering baby blue dress, white heels, and white jewels adorning her body. It took your breath away.

“Wow… You look beautiful.” You sighed out dreamily.

Lilith gave you a small smile, though notably much smaller than normal. Then she looked you up and down with a frown on her face.

“Darling, is that what you’re wearing?” She asked.

Confused, you looked down at your outfit. It was a three piece white suit that you believed was rather dapper. Not to mention it was comfortable. You didn’t understand why she was asking.

“Of course, this is my favorite suit. Why?”

“You wore it last time we went to this event.”

“Okay… Is that supposed to be a problem? It’s stylish and I like the way it looks on me.”

“Being seen in the same thing twice is a taboo. I thought I would have taught you that by now,” Lilith sighed, before waving her hand and changing the color to the same blue as her hair. The cut of the suit was also altered ever so slightly, “There! Now you look perfect.”

A low, icky feeling panged at your gut. You hated wearing this color and the altered cut of the suit made you feel uncomfortable. It drew attention to certain areas of your body you didn’t want people to focus on. But you reminded yourself that it was for Lilith, so you could accept it for the night.

That was the mantra you repeated throughout the night; You were doing it for Lilith. When you bit your tongue in conversation so she could talk, when you didn’t eat anything off of the refreshment table because it was apparently ‘just there to look nice.’ It was hard to do, but you did it. You squashed yourself into a perfect little mold for the higher-ups of the Boiling Isles.

At the end of the event, there was said to be a big show. It’d been the one piece of information keeping you grounded all night. Emperor Belos was going to give a show to remember. The start of a new tradition.

But when you heard the sound of distressed squawking from behind the curtain, you felt your heart drop. Then the curtains opened.

Standing there was Emperor Belos. A fire whip in hand, across from a young Lion Phoenix. It was cowering back from him. Growling and hissing, feathers raised. You looked anxiously to Lilith, but she was purposefully avoiding your gaze.

“Distinguished guests,” Belos began, “Tonight I will perform a feat never attempted before. I will tame the wild Lion Phoenix, as a show of what the Boiling Isles is truly capable of!”

Everyone around you clapped. This felt like your own personal hell, having to watch people enjoy the torture that this creature would endure. For the sake of a show. For power.

“Lilith, stop him.” You whispered.

“I can’t do that.” She flinched away from the suggestion, looking at you like you had two heads.

There was a lilt in her voice that you didn’t like. The same one when she’d accidentally shrunk your uniform or eaten your leftovers. Guilt.

She knew.

You moved away from her, even as she tried to reach for you. To keep you close or stop you from making a scene, it didn’t matter, you were on a mission. There were many instances where you could hold your tongue. This was not one of them.

Belos raised the whip above his head, intent on bringing it down over the creature. You sent a burst of magic before he could. It knocked the item out of his hand. Everyone in the room looked at you in outrage.

“Have you no regard for life?” You hissed at the Emperor.

“It’s a harmless show, Miss Y/N.” He explained.

“Harmless to everyone except this creature. It’s cruel and uncalled for.” You said.

“Emperor Belos, I’m so sorry-”

Lilith tried to jump in to defend you, to calm the situation down. But you leveled her with a hard glare. She stepped back slightly. You didn’t need, or want, anyone to apologize for you.

“End this show or I will.” You threatened.

The temperature in the room dropped as Belos stopped laughing. Such a change made you feel uneasy, but you refused to back down. Not now. Not on something so important.

“Fine.”

He threw his hand out in the direction of the Lion Phoenix, which let out a shriek of fear. Unthinking, you threw yourself between them. Lilith screamed your name before it all ended suddenly. Replaced by the sound of rustling leaves and chirping.

Looking around, you realized you were outside now. In the gardens of the Emperor’s Castle. The Lion Phoenix currently cuddling up to you had teleported you away from the scene. It surprised you, since that was typically a skill for the older creatures. It seemed this one learned quickly.

“Thank you,” You said gratefully, making them purr, “You’re so precious, I’m sorry you got mixed up with such a horrible crowd.”

The large creature didn’t react, other than to paw at your hand, sitting down expectantly. A piece of dinner was still held in your hand. You wasted no time in giving it to them.

“You need a name. How about… Ivy?”

On the creature’s side were prominent veins, almost looking like ivy plants that grew up and around her legs and torso. She gave an indifferent squawk.

“What do you say we blow this joint?” You offered.

Ivy narrowed her eyes at you before giving you a noise of agreement. That was all you needed.

Upon arriving back at your home, you made up a space for the large creature. You imagined that she was going to be with you for a while. At least, you hoped so. She was very sweet and mild mannered.

About two hours had passed before you heard the door open, almost frantically. You winced. Though you were still rightfully upset.

“Oh thank the Titan, you’re alive!” Lilith said upon seeing you, before freezing as Ivy began to growl at her.

“It’s okay,” You soothed, before looking at the other woman, “And yes, I am.”

Lilith knew she’d messed up. The way you weren’t speaking like normal, you didn’t smile in her direction, all of it. She let out a sigh.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” She said.

“Sorry doesn’t feel like enough right now, Lil.” You said softly, focusing intently on Ivy’s fur, “You really hurt me. First you made me act like someone I wasn’t all night and then you didn’t defend me when I asked for your help. I’m not always the smartest, but the one thing I know is who I am. That won’t change. Not even for you.”

Lilith’s stomach dropped. She’d been so caught up in the stress of it all, that she failed to realize how her actions wounded you. How she’d unintentionally been attempting to change who you were. Just so she could impress some stupid Boiling Isles elite.

“You’re right. I take full responsibility for how I acted tonight. How can I make it up to you?” Lilith said softly.

“You… You get to take care of Ivy for two weeks. Or until you’ve earned her forgiveness. Once you’ve earned hers, you’ll earn mine.”

Your girlfriend’s eyes widened as she looked at the creature. Narrowed eyes glared back at her. This was not going to be easy. But still, she steeled herself and accepted your terms.

How bad could two weeks possibly be?

———

Bad. Very bad.

Lilith replaced nearly all of her dresses and even had to get a haircut. Ivy refused to make the two weeks easy. She singed, clawed, and even ripped up whatever of Lilith’s she could find. The hair was an accident.

You conveniently remained neutral. This was Lilith’s punishment, it did nothing if you told her what to do. So you watched from the sidelines, only intending to jump in if it became dangerous for either party.

Luckily, it never got to such a point. And you were happy to see Lilith and Ivy growing closer. The latter even went so far as to cuddle up to Lilith near the end, which the witch was happy about.

“So, did you learn from this experience?” You asked her that night, looking at her curiously.

“Yes.” She sighed.

“Oh come on, you love her. I know you do.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not!” Lilith protested.

“Yeah? Then why did I see you giving her tummy rubs for ten minutes this morning, hm?” You asked.

She avoided your eyes, knowing she’d been caught. Against her better judgement she’d become attached to Ivy.

“I… tolerate her. At best.” She said finally.

“Whatever you say, honey.”

The two of you cuddled up together, smiles on your faces. Content to finally be on good terms once again. Ivy decided to join the moment too, which Lilith allowed, though she pretended to hate it.

The real kicker? Lilith’s outfits hadn’t been the only ones to face the wrath of Ivy’s teeth. You just hadn’t found out yet. All par for the course though… Right?

#lilith clawthorne #lilith x reader #lilith toh #lilith clawthorne imagine #the owl house #the owl house imagine #lilith clawthorne x reader #the owl house x reader #lilith the owl house #wlw #wlw imagine #jan2021 #multimilfswritings

[my-brothers-corrupted]

I really want to see Chase and Henrik have a proper conversation about what they both experienced in those last days with Anti, and how it affected their relationship with each other! I feel like we haven't seen enough of how they're doing since everyone's been focused on trying to help Blue.

"How did this happen?" is the first thing Henrik asks when they have regained some control over themselves, and they are sitting side-by-side in their nest, with nothing to hide from and a purring cat between them. "What happened? The last I remember, you were still on his side."

"I can't believe you're not mad for everything I did to you," says Chase. "Or - failed to do for you. Schneep, I heard you screaming some days and I..."

"Chase," says Henrik softly. "He was in your head."

Chase looks up at him, eyes watery. "I still should have fought harder."

"It's done now, my friend."

"I regret it, though. And the last few weeks, with you being stuck in your head, I just spent the whole time thinking about how I failed you. Trying to take care of you to make up for it somehow."

"Chase, we can both play this game all too easily. Me, I was the clear-headed one, but I was helpless to get you free of Anti. I was able to do nothing while I watched him strip you of yourself, of your control, of your freedom. Turn you into some puppet. All I could do was bide my time. Was like torture all in itself. Something terrible could have just as easily have happened to you, brother, and then I would be the one sitting here full of guilt that I did not protect you. But this is what we were fighting for, right? For freedom for the two of us? Now we have it. And I know you did fight, Chase... you were so lost in his power no one could pull you out on their own. For weeks there, my friend, you were the one stuck in your head."

Chase sighs, chuckling weakly as he thinks it through. "Yeah. I guess."

"Darling," says Henrik warmly. "No more guilt. Tell me about the fight. I want to hear the story."

Chase smiles back at him. It's been a long time since he's dwelt on that last week before Anti was killed.

"It's a long story," he says. "Very long."

"Get started, then," grins Henrik.

"Well, Red and Blue escaped."

"I remember that much. Yes... that's why he... he..."

"Yeah." Chase touches his hand gently. "Don't - don't think about the stuff he did to you yet if you're not ready, okay?"

"I'll try. Distract me."

"Okay. So after they got away and he, well - he took you away... It was just me and Dapper. He put us both in the same room. And then he just - I remember being flooded by him, you know? Like usually he tried to be subtle about it, but he just... replaced me inside my own head. Enough that I could tell something was wrong, that I got scared. And I could hear you crying out, I knew you were in pain. I was really sick. Half the time totally his, just this... slave. And the other half the time fighting to come back to myself.

"Dapper was my anchor. It was like, when I was going through what he had gone through for months, I could finally see how terrible things were. Anti had stopped me from seeing that from my own perspective, but when I thought about him just being made to be Anti's little puppy - when I saw him for who he was and for how much Anti had controlled him - then I knew there was a real problem. And me, I was so naive, with my memory all fucked up and Anti still telling me lies. Dapper was hopeless. He didn't think we would escape at first. I could tell how scared he was, but he just... couldn't start the fight on his own. We ended up balancing each other out, I think. He had the experience, the wisdom, the clarity I needed to find. And I tried to get him fighting again. Once he did lift his head up again, Dok... fuck, did he fight."

"Yeah? He was himself too?"

"Yeah. He's a good guy. He was still sad over Anti when it was time, though. We both were. Actually... none of us had the guts to end him. Except Blue." Chase bites on his lip, shaking his head. "I think it's really messed him up, Schneep."

Henrik leans forward, squeezing his fingers. "Tell me everything."

So Chase does - lets it pour out in a wave and watches his words fill Henrik's ears and settle down into his brain. Watches Henrik listen.

Listen in the way that only Henrik does. Every word from Chase's mouth is important. Must be processed and examined and, if any concern is to be found, addressed.

Chase tells him that Jackie can't think about anything but work and his brothers, that he gets in fights and doesn't spend time with them, lost in thinking about the future. He tells him that JJ is good half of the time and the other half he is obsessive, nervous, sickly, and in grief. He tells him that Blue has become someone Chase barely recognizes, that he lashes out and hurts all day long, that he seems to be reaching out to him at the same time as he shoves them all away, and that now he's run away from home, and they don't know what's happening with him.

Henrik nods, chews his lip, considers. Chase sees him planning. After so long, he knows what it looks like when the gears in Henrik's head are turning faster than anybody else in the world could follow, and he's more than content to just watch him think.

"And you?" says Henrik, when he has arrived at a conclusion to whatever thought process has moved through his head. "How are you?"

Chase looks down, his long eyelashes falling on his freckled cheeks.

"I'm okay most of the time," he says. "Just... I just... I'm glad you're here. Really, really glad."

[driversmutbucket]

Kitten X

I can’t, and i can’t stress this enough, believe this frivolous ho has written a 10 part series. I mean, granted, a lot of it is straight porn. But still.  I love these two. Lets marry them.   Yes i did cry writing this because i am ridiculous and emotionally attached. 

To catch up on this series please refer to my master post. 

(this looks like a wedding photo right?!)

Kylo Ren AU x Reader Warnings: disgusting levels of fluff, mentions of pregnancy, NSFW

 9 months later

“Better late than never!” Your mom smiled as she laced up the back of your gown.

“Oh come on, I’m hardly an old maid at 34 mother.” you sighed, rolling your eyes. 

“I know, I know darling, we are very happy for you, your father and I. We were just worried we would be in the grave before you ever settled down” She patted your shoulder, “you look lovely.” 

-

Your parents were old school. You were their only child, and they had you later in life after a long battle with infertility. Had they planned your life things would be very different. They had found your focus on academia and career baffling, failing to understand how it was more fulfilling than settling down and starting a family. 

They meant well, they really did, and despite your contrasting beliefs on many matters, you remained close. 

Kylo had survived a family Christmas, your mom was particularly smitten with him. He had survived 1000 questions, photo albums, extremely dubious political chat and constant hints about grandchildren. Every night you had apologized profusely, he just chuckled and told you they really weren’t that bad. 

Kylo proposed in mid-January, booking out the entire the Italian restaurant you had your first date in. You had accepted through sobs, as the staff all clapped and cheered. 

-

It was now August, and the leaves were changing colour, the days slightly cooler and shorter. 

You had planned an intimate wedding in a downtown Hotel that you both loved the historical architecture of. In attendance were a handful of friends and family, uninterested in a big showy affair, you had opted on quality rather than quantity. 

Your metallic silk gown made you feel beautiful. The corset design accentuated your figure, and the deep v neckline was sexy yet tasteful. The gown evoked 1920s glamour, and you had your hair styled and makeup applied to echo the era.

Your father even became misty eyed when he saw you, “Like an old-hollywood beauty, you look lovely sweetheart.” He said gruffly, trying to discreetly dab his eyes. 

-

Heart pounding, you waited outside the doors of the small ceremony room clutching your father's arm. 

Cat Power - Sea of Love began to play softly. 

You were already blinking back tears as you stepped through the doors, Kylo’s head snapping up from where he stood at the front of the room. 

He didn’t, for one second, take his eyes off you as you made your ascent up the aisle. 

Kylo shook your father's hand when you made it to the front, he then placed his hand on the small of your back and leaned down and whispered in your ear.

“Y/n, babe, you look fucking incredible, so beautiful, Kitten.” 

“Thank you”, you beamed, “you look so handsome.”

He did. In a classic tuxedo, Kylo looked very dapper. His eyes shone with emotion. 

-

Time seemed to go at warp speed as you tried to soak everything up, remember every detail. How Kylo couldn’t take his eyes off you. How he whispered ‘my wife’ into your ear every so often, like he was in disbelief. How your mom and Jan clutched each other and dabbed their eyes during your vows. How Luke beamed at Kylo and clapped him on the back, expressing his pride. 

As Kylo took your hand for the first dance, your heart swelled as the opening notes of Into my arms by Nick Cave played. You had told Kylo to pick a song and not tell you what it was.

His arm circled your waist and pulled your body to his. 

I don't believe in an interventionist God But I know, darling, that you do But if I did, I would kneel down and ask Him Not to intervene when it came to you

Your eyes swam with tears for the upteenth time as he kissed the top of your head before resting his forehead against your own. 

“Don’t cry Kitten.” He teased, his own eyes glossy. 

You sang the words of the next verse softly to him. 

Oh, not to touch a hair on your head Leave you as you are If he felt he had to direct you Then direct you into my arms

As the chorus played tears were running silently down your cheeks now, as happiness, gratitude and love overwhelmed you.

Into my arms, oh Lord Into my arms, oh Lord Into my arms, oh Lord Into my arms

Kylo wiped the tears away with his thumbs as he cupped your face, kissing your lips softly. 

And I don't believe in the existence of angels But looking at you I wonder if that's true

“My angel.” He hummed, before pressing another kiss on your lips.

But if I did I would summon them together And ask them to watch over you Both to each burn a candle for you To make bright and clear your path And to walk, like Christ, in grace and love And guide you into my arms

Into my arms, oh Lord Into my arms, oh Lord Into my arms, oh Lord Into my arms

Other couples joined you on the floor, there weren’t many dry eyes to be seen. 

You chuckled softly, nodding towards Jan “you better dance with Jan after this baby.” 

Her face was blotchy from crying, as she looked on, radiating so much joy that Kylo couldn’t help but grin. 

But I believe in Love And I know that you do, too And I believe in some kind of path That we can walk down, me and you So keep your candles burning Make her journey bright and pure That she'll keep returning Always and evermore

“Perfect song choice.” You sighed, as it came to a close.

Into my arms, oh Lord Into my arms, oh Lord Into my arms, oh Lord Into my arms

-

You blinked and it was over. 

The honeymoon suite in the hotel was yours for the night.

“Let’s go consummate this holy union Mrs Ren” Kylo murmured playfully into your ear as you both walked into the elevator. 

You giggled, buzzed on the champagne coursing through your veins. 

“I can’t believe I have a husband.” You grinned, running your fingers down the lapels of his jacket. 

“Can’t believe I bagged such a fucking hot wife.” He mirrored your grin, eyes dancing with mischief as you slapped his chest in mock shock. 

The elevator dinged, and Kylo led you to the door of the suite.

“Can’t wait to kick these shoes off.” You sighed.

“Can’t wait to rip your dress off.” He replied, opening the door. 

“Rip this dress and I will divorce you, Ren.” you deadpanned. 

“You wound me, Kitten.” He winked, shrugging off his jacket.

You quickly stepped into the bathroom and slipped out of your dress. The lingerie beneath was as important as the dress. White and luxurious, the delicate lace bustier and thong accentuate your curves, stockings were held up by straps connected to the bustier. You primped your hair slightly before re-emerging and leaning against the door frame. 

“So what- oh fuuuuuuuuuck!” Kylo stopped dead, midway through undoing his cuff links. 

You raised your eyebrow with a smug smile, “what were you saying?”

“I was going to ask what you wanted to do…. if you wanted some more champagne.” He gestured blindly at the bottle next to the bed, eyes drinking you in.

“What I want,” you began walking toward him, as he sat on the edge of the bed, “is for my husband to make love to me,” You purred, stopping in front of him and bending over, resting your hands on his thighs, “then yes, I will have some more champagne, preferably in a bubble bath.”

“Babe, right now you could ask for anything and I would give it to you.” His voice a bit deeper, as you stood back up, his fingers ghosting down your sides. 

You did a slow twirl, “do you like?” 

He nodded dumbly, like his brain was short circuiting. 

Clutching your waist he pulled you between his legs and kissed along your collarbone. 

You loved how far his hands were able to reach around your waist, you felt so safe in those big hands. 

You sighed happily as his mouth moved down, teasing your covered nipples with his tongue.

Reaching for his shirt you began fumbling with his buttons, as his hands slid down and cupped your bottom, squeezing gently.

“Lay on the bed.” Kylo murmurs against your skin. 

You make a show of crawling into the middle of the plush mattress, wiggling your ass before laying down and propping yourself up on your elbows. 

“Fucking hellllllllllllll, that is my wife!” His smile devilish and smug and he strips off his remaining clothing. 

“Kylo?” he pauses and looks up, just as he is about to pull down his trousers. “I’m not on birth control anymore.” 

You chew your lip nervously as it dawns on him what you are insinuating. 

“Do you want to-” he began, eyes wide.

“I mean, only if-” 

“YES, yes! Fuck! babe, are you serious?” The hope and glee on Kylo’s face was enough to make you melt into a puddle. 

“I want nothing more than my husband to put a baby in me.” you couldn’t help grinning at how those words sounded coming out of your mouth, kind of ridiculous but kind of...erotic? 

Apparently Kylo found it very bloody erotic. He was buck naked in seconds and crawling over you, caging you beneath him, his rock hard cock prodding your stomach.

You arched your back as he dragged his nose down into the valley between your breasts, burying his face in between them with a soft moan. He unclasped your bra, tossing it off the bed while he admired your breasts, as they sat naturally. 

“Perfect tits.” he murmured, tweaking a nipple, you gasped- then whimpered as he quickly soothed the sting with his mouth. 

Gripping behind your knees, Kylo pushed your legs up and out beside your torso. He kept his hands there, spreading you wide, running his mouth over the lace of your thong as you desperately tried to thrust.

“These panties are very damp Kitten.” He breathed, finally letting go of your legs. “Hold your legs up for me.” You replaced his hands with your own.

He tugged the flimsy fabric aside and pressed a kiss on your clit. 

“Fuck.” You hissed. 

He pushed one finger, then another into your sopping cunt, scissoring them slightly to stretch you out.

Keeping his fingers inside you, working you into a fit of whines and whimpers, Kylo scaled your body, seeking your mouth with his own. Hot and heavy kisses as his fingers continued pumping, your hand wrapped around his hard length.

He removed his fingers and positioned you on your side so you were leaning into your elbow. He straddled your bottom leg and pulled the thong aside, pushing into your warmth with a grunt and he settled behind you. You twisted back so your mouths could meet again as his hand found your breast. 

It wasn’t fevered fucking, it was passionate and luxurious love making. His hand roaming your body, tracing your curves. His mouth kissed you, peppered kisses down your neck and over your shoulder. 

“My wife.” He murmured in your ear, on more than one occasion. 

You whimpered and moaned, the position meant he could get deep inside you, hit your g spot relentlessly as he thrust his hips. 

You came with a cry as his fingers expertly worked your clit, he followed soon after as your whispered sweet sentiments in his ear. 

The second he pulled out, he was elevating your hips, shoving pillows under your butt.

“Ahh...what the fuck are you doing?” you asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Keeping my cum in you.” he replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

You barked out a laugh, but he was deadly serious, “stay there and i’ll run the bath.”

You watched with an amused smile, from your ridiculous position as he grabbed the champagne and glasses and disappeared into the bathroom. 

-

As Kylo led you into the bathroom you gasped, there were candles on every surface and a small table next to the large bath held a bunch of roses, the champagne, strawberries and a gift bag. 

“Did you organise all this…” you looked at Kylo in wonder. 

He just nodded silently, studying your face as if to gauge your reaction. 

“This is beautiful, thank you.” you said softly, pressing a kiss on his lips. 

He began to undress you, pulling off the remainder of your lingerie before helping you into the large tub. 

“Oh my god this is heavenly!” you groaned, sinking into the hot water. Your aching feet from a day in heels soothed. 

Kylo pulled you into him and you rested your head back against his chest with a happy sigh. 

He reached and pulled a red box from the bag next to the bath. 

“Kitten, for you.” he smiled, as you hurriedly dried your hands and took the box. 

“Kylo! Jesus Christ!” you breathed, recognising the unmistakable design of the jewellery box as that of Cartier. 

You opened it slowly, revealing a beautiful gold necklace. The round pendant was inlaid with what was surely diamonds. You gaped at it, silently.

“Is it ok?” Kylo sounded slightly worried. 

You handed it to him blindly, “can you put it on me please, baby?” your voice wobbling. 

You traced the circle gently as he fastened it, before turning around completely, “what do you think?” you asked.

“Perfect.” he smiled adoringly. 

“I love it, but i didn’t get you anything! I feel-!” you fretted. 

“Y/n, you married me. That’s enough for me, forever.” 

“If you could stop making me cry that would be really great.” you sniffed, wiping your eyes, “I’m dehydrated from all this crying.” 

He grinned, pulling you into his lap and handing you a glass on bubbles. 

“Drink this and stop blubbering, silly Kitten.” he teased. 

You flicked water at him. 

-

You ate room service in fluffy robes at 2 in the morning, before collapsing into the bed, exhausted from the day. 

You snuggled into the warmth of his body, right when you were drifting off Kylo began thinking aloud.

“We need to get you on prenatal vitamins babe, and i’ll find ask the board who the best OBGYN is, we should really get you in there as soon-”

“Baby, i love you, but please shut up and go to sleep.” you mumbled, sleepily.

-----

Tag list: @reyloaddict55​ @candycanes19​ @jediminddicks1000​ @finn-ray-nal-beads​ @maybe-your-left​ @thegreenmatt​ @morby​ @sydneyssmut​ @contesa-lui-alucard​ @millenialcatlady​

#K&K get married #Kitten #kylo x you #kylo ren x reader #reader insert #kylo ren au

[gasp-iwrotesomething]

Could I please request some Alex Cyprus. Something angsty.

Sure thing! Thank you for requesting and I sincerely hope you enjoy!

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

A simple word had driven a wedge mightier than the gods between them. Clashing and clanging, clinging to whatever ounce of contempt oozed from the other. It was fleeting, the last rays of moonlight as dawn came, replaced by the everlasting love that would shine. Gleam, twinkle--whatever pleasant verb you could think of. It didn’t matter though. That sun didn’t seem to have a dawn to climb or a dusk to fall to; just never ending renewals of an eclipse, darkness, a fog of hopelessness swirling through. Just… no redemption. MC was so drained--had she even slept that night? She took some pills meant to help with sleep but they only made her drowsy and sad; a drooping waterfall of pity and longing. Tears had soaked through her pillow, etching in a spot of her dreary night. How was she supposed to show up to work the next morning? She was bound to see Alex there--there was no way she wasn’t. MC’s eyes water at just the thought of seeing their face--so gorgeous and uplifting on a regular day--stained with the lines and bags of stress, of sleepless nights. Stress that MC herself had given them. 

MC had tried to make the declaration smooth and understandable, something simple that Alex could accept no matter how hard it was to. But she’d flunked--ruined it all, gave the wrong idea that she was too naive to fix. All MC wanted was to say that she needed a break--some alone time to better herself and get over this hump she’s experiencing. But it had come out as a break up, like there was another person she wanted but couldn’t have all because Alex was there for her. MC sniffles as she recalls the moment Alex’s worried, compassionate features shattered into something even sadder--helplessness, anxiety, fear… Something wet skids down her cheeks and all of a sudden, MC was crying again. It was so consuming, something that felt uncontrollable and relieving yet ate away at herself, tearing her apart tear by tear and agonizing thought after agonizing thought. She’d lost count at the many times she’s cried--being helpless, a cocoon in her bed. When would she face her fears and set the record straight with Alex? At this rate, that was the farthest possibility on her mind. Alex’s words were burned in her memory--or more specifically, their lack of. Alex had been quiet--almost too quiet--before they said one simple word. 

“...Fine.”

The way it was said wasn’t in dismissal--quite the opposite, in fact. It was requited, forced, something they said to avoid undermining MC’s emotions. The word was agreement and yet it hurt more than healed. It tore her apart more than it gave her closure. Alex’s eyes had become glassy and they were blinking rapidly--could it have been tears? A silence then slithered and hissed between them, so thick that MC believed she could choke on it. “If-if that’s what you need, MC,” the demigod had croaked--their voice was already splintering, “then… then I guess I can’t be mad about that.” Alex forced a smile--of course they had forced a smile, why would they let MC feel guilty for the way they felt? Then their exchange ended with Alex giving her a hug for good luck and taking their leave. Even when she watched their back--the dapper grey jacket they wore so nicely, MC could remember just how good they looked in a suit--MC stayed silent, maybe too shocked to come up with a reply. Maybe too cowardly to take that leap, even though she loved Alex. Gods, she loved Alex more than she could even account for. 

Why… why had she let herself believe Alex was so expendable? They were worth everything and yet MC let Alex go for the sake of… well, everything.

Not even a minute later, her tears dry up and she’s left in broken heaps of misery. Misery that she brought upon herself. MC reaches for her phone and clicks it on to find that she had shut it off with her and Alex’s last conversation pulled up.

Her heart tugs at the reminder: she’d been wallowing in this misery since last night.

Spacing out to messages from them; some professional, some playful, some sweet. MC rubs her red eyes. Gods, if this is what a break felt like, then MC wasn’t entirely sure she wanted it at all. Alex had been so distraught--so non-reactive, so closeted, so… opaque. It was hard to derive a definitive meaning from their words. Were they really on board with what she wanted? She kept thinking of that somber edge that passed into their features, that lingered even when they attempted to smile. That stayed even after they were gone and she was alone. That probably grew and mutated into their chest the moment MC was not looking. Was Alex looking a lot like she was right now? A mess, with no motive to leave their bed? No… that’d kill her more. MC hopes Alex is at work, doing their job, not wasting the day away worrying and fretting and hurting over MC. She hoped that this feeling and these reactions were all from her--none from Alex. 

Later, she calls in sick--a rare occasion.

MC just couldn’t fathom a world where she went to work and met Alex’s eyes without breaking down. She’d confront them, in time. Not now. Now… now she was still trying to puzzle together a better resolve. Something to not hang her head in shame over.  Aside from that dilemma, there were no crowning cases to take on as a field agent, everything was mostly little flukes or terse reactions. So she should be able to… take off a day to clear her mind from work. Maybe MC was manifesting excuses… maybe this was a grave mistake. Seconds lumber into minutes and minutes trudge into hours until pressing her phone on greeted her with 7 PM. MC sat at her dining table, her fork caught in the microwaved lunch she had sloppily thrown together earlier. Her appetite had dipped ever since that morning and she’d felt slightly nauseated from all of the self-inflicted worry she was harboring, so eating hadn’t exactly been on her mind like Alex was. Alex, Alex, Alex… They were seated on a throne in her mind, her thoughts bowing to their presence and the overwhelming influence they had on her aching heart. There was a space in her rib cage, a crater just below her heart that sang sadly for Alex, still wanting--hoping--to see Alex’s face behind every door she opened. She dreams of Alex’s knuckles rapping against the front door and their gentle, bittersweet voice pouring through the cracks, asking her to join them for a cup of coffee to talk things through. MC imagined what she’d do, even if it wasn’t true. She wants to believe that she’d be stable, act level headed and be an adult, but MC had the feeling that she’d lose it in front of them. If she saw even the faintest crease of worry or the slightest line of stress on their beautiful face… MC would most likely cry right then and there, letting that shame and guilt and sadness pull her under all over again. She sighs. 

Later that night, she dreams of Alex embracing her tight, their lips adhered to her temple, their melody of apologies trickling into her ear. Feeding her that sense of forgiveness and reformation. When she woke, through her wallowing, MC knew what she had to do.

She typed so fast that she must have made a spelling error while typing. MC hardly cared. Alex would understand her message whether or not she misspelled a word. She starts with something simple: hey, how are you? It’s something to persuade Alex to talk to her and work their accumulated issues out through easy conversation; the enigmatic flow of cordial talking. MC rubs her eyes. She had managed to wake up an hour before she would normally wake up for work at H.E.R.A, so there was a good chance that Alex was asleep. However, the typing icon pops up on the screen just a few minutes later, indicating that Alex was awake too. Indicating that they weren’t wanting to ignore her. Good knowing you’re happy, Alex’s text reads, somehow even more barren than MC’s had been. The message felt empty, emotionless, monotone as she read it in her mind. MC felt her heart splinter and crack a rupture right down the center of it, dissecting her in two. MC wasn’t happy--was that the impression she gave them? Had the news been easier to swallow when MC had said all those things about needing a break from them? Has it been even easier to digest it that way? MC couldn’t fathom the idea of Alex convincing themself that MC was happy without their presence at her side; she couldn’t fathom it at all… Shakily, she types out a reply, are you sure? 

A few seconds pass, warped to minutes in MC’s stressed tangle of thoughts, before Alex texts, should I not be? 

She paused, stunned motionless. It was a simple string of words, as all sentences were, but there was something biting about this one. There was something MC could detect in the phrasing, in the moment of digital silence that walls them apart, that made a trinket of hope bloom in her. Like a tiny flash, or a sizzling orange flare in the dark. No, I want you to be, MC hashes out in swift, pithy swipes, I just think ur lying when you tell me that. It was true; Alex appeared to be tempering their emotions for her, anchoring the sadness to the floor of their vast heart. So much could fill that space, so many articulate thoughts and puzzling ideas swimming, so much unwanted space taken up… In that never ending heart of theirs, they had to have some tendril of sorrow restlessly there. Why did you ask if I’m sure, MC? You act like I shouldn’t be for you. Alex ignores her last text completely. They really wanted to know her intentions. At first, MC misconstrues their soundless tone for annoyance and irritation. But it’s clear the more she inspects that they were just concerned. She could imagine the fissures of worry wrinkling their expression, the slightest bit of tension founding their shoulders and slumping their spine. How heartbreaking that image was to her psyche. MC rids the thought; moping wouldn’t solve her issues. She chews her lip as she responds. I never said that, Alex. I can’t rest thinking you’re unhappy. I want you to prove to me that you’re really, truly happy with the decision I’ve made. Don’t hide anything from me. 

MC hoped she wasn’t being brash with that message. But at the same time, Alex had--they had--to understand just how salient their feelings were to her. What was the point of finding solace in each other when neither would talk, would vent, would speak up and converse through their issues? All of this pent up tension and drawn out distance was unnecessary noise, and MC longed to prove how life wasn’t, and could never be, important without Alex. The three, menacingly fluid dots jump in an organized formation. MC holds her breath.  It was a familiar pattern now, just as heart-stopping as the first time. Seeing them dance now, MC realizes just why talking in person would be the wrong move for the two of them; she wouldn’t have been able to hide behind a screen whenever Alex thought about a reply, or mulled over her words, or changed their expression… It all would have been too much for her. I still think about you alot. Probably more than I should professionally but I can’t help it. You feel it too, don’t you? It’s why you’re asking if I’m happy. You sense the emptiness. 

Each new brittle sentence is sent through individual text bubbles, the change of pace deafening. MC felt that spark of ambition burn brighter, stronger. Alex knew their situation. They knew the absence of each other was more than they bargained for. They knew… they felt that same grasping, selfish greed to see each other again, to fill a void in their insignificant days. This was what her dream was woven from; thick, silky soft threads of mutual agreement and longing, the multi-colored yarn of apologies, love, and trust. Hardships and resilience. Yes, MC hastily agrees, her heart wedged in her throat. She couldn’t will her fingers to glide across the keyboard anymore, uselessly hovering over the scattered letters with no choreography to spell anything out. Maybe there was nothing left to say over the phone. Perhaps confrontation was closer than first expected. It made sense--Alex was now aware that she longed them as much as they desired her, so why not tear down the wall between them?

Then, her phone purrs in her hand for a second, and she reads the next text from Alex.

Think into your decision more then. Let me know when you’re ready and we’ll talk over coffee.

The relief that splashes her is warm and encapsulating, a waterfall of sparkling emotions.

Just know that I love you, they follow-up.

MC can’t restrain herself; she beams up to her ears, her brown eyes shining with happy tears. Thankfully, everything was mending now, scabbing over the worst of their shared gloom.

I love you too.

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

Thanks again and I’m sorry for the delay!

If you want to request something, here’s the Prompt List, here are the Guidelines, here’s Who I Write For, and here is where you can Request me.

#alex cyprin #astoria fates kiss

[buckyodinson]

Care for a Dance? (Agent Whiskey x fem!Reader)

Summary: You and Whiskey have feelings for each other, but neither of you have done anything about it. Perhaps a Statesman party can help the pair of you admit what you’re feeling.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I have no idea if the Kingsman fandom is still active at all but I keep seeing pictures of Whiskey pop up everywhere (not that I’m complaining), and I got an idea for a fic and it just kinda happened? This takes place after Kingsman: The Golden Circle, and we’re just gonna ignore the fact that he was kinda a bad guy and got shoved into a meat grinder :) 

The Statesmen were having a party at the distillery to celebrate a successful year in the alcohol market - and obviously the success of the agency, but as far as anyone outside the agency was concerned, this was just a distillery. The party was happening in the warehouse with all the barrels of the Statesmen’s famed drink lined against the walls. The warehouse was adorned with warm string lights, which gave it a rustic feel. It reminded you of a barn dance that kids sometimes have in middle school.

A night filled with dancing, fun and alcohol (naturally) was promised, and you were all encouraged to dress to the nines, knowing the following Monday you’d all be back to your denim or suits. Champ told you all the make the most of the fun, because it’d probably be a long while before you all had the chance to let loose again.

Lots of shareholders in the company were going to be there, as well as you and the rest of the Statesman agents. Even the Kingsmen were invited, and you were thrilled to see Eggsy and Harry again. Though you were more excited about having Tequila back for a short while. The distillery was a lot more quiet without the banter he always provided. You especially loved the way him and Whiskey would bicker (little did you know, their bickering was often over you). But most importantly, you’d see Whiskey himself. You tried not to fall for him, you really did, but it was to no avail. He was known to be a bit of a womanizer, but he was nothing but sweet around you. You hadn’t noticed, but since he took a liking to you, his days of bringing a new girl home every week were gone. You were looking forward to letting your hair down and having a few drinks with Whiskey and the others.

Whiskey wasn’t as excited about the night as you were. He would be happy to see Eggsy and Harry, sure, but he could do without having Tequila back. Truth be told, Whiskey had developed feelings for you during the years you’d worked together, and he’d never acted on them. You were a fair bit younger than him, and he was sure you didn’t feel the same. He bickered with Tequila a lot about you, because Tequila always seemed like he wanted to make a move on you. 

While Whiskey didn’t think he was good enough for you, he certainly didn’t think Tequila was either. He wouldn’t admit to himself that he was jealous, but he just didn’t like the way Tequila looked at you… and spoke to you… and made little passing touches… okay, maybe he was a little jealous. But who could blame him? You were one of the highest ranking agents with the Statesmen, you were highly skilled and ridiculously attractive and a valuable asset to the agency. He wanted so desperately to be the one laying next you at night, whispering sweet nothings into you ear.

Once Tequila had left to join the Kingsmen, Whiskey felt a little better about testing the waters around you. He would ramp up the flirting, laying pet names on you all day long. You blushed profusely whenever he called you doll, or angel, or sugar, or practically anything that wasn’t your real name or code name. You would give as good as you got, flirting back, complimenting him on his new hat or boots or just his general appearance. Once, when you and the others were at a bar, you were leaned against the bar next to him and you idly ran your finger down the bridge of his nose sweetly, and told him it was cute. You were a tad tipsy and immediately excused yourself to the bathroom, completely embarrassed about this action, but while you spent a minute composing yourself in the bathroom, Whiskey was at the bar blushing to himself and smiling softly at the compliment. He steeled himself when you returned though, and you carried on with your evening, both refusing to acknowledge what had happened.

He was one of the first of the agents to arrive at the warehouse for the party. Music hummed throughout the place and he took up a spot at the bar, waiting for you to arrive. Tonight was the night he’d finally man up and ask you out on a date. He twirled his glass nervously, running through hundreds of scenarios in his head. He was lost in his thoughts, and didn’t notice Tequila approaching him, until the man thumped him on the back.

“Whiskey! Looking good! How’ve you been?” He exclaimed loudly, with a smile on his face, pulling Whiskey in for a hug.

Whiskey gave him a few thumps on the back in return and pulled away, “Not too bad, Tequila. Nothing much has changed over here. How’s London treating you?”

“It’s going alright over there. The ladies are suckers for the accent, which is always nice. Plus, got myself a bit of a makeover.” He stepped back and Whiskey took in his appearance, noting that Tequila was wearing a full suit, which was an exceptional rarity. He also had a flat cap on, in replacement of his trademark Stetson. Whiskey gave him a curt nod in approval and Tequila finally propped himself up on a stool next to Whiskey.

He flagged the bartender and was given a drink immediately, and he took a sip before turning back to Whiskey, “Speaking of ladies, how’s my favourite little firecracker?”

He didn’t even have to say your name, but Whiskey’s jaw clenched, and that was all the answer that Tequila needed, “Still haven’t made a move then? She too upset about me leaving?” He pressed and could see he was winding Whiskey up.

“Haven’t found the right moment. Yet.” He spoke curtly and downed his drink, waving at the bartender for another. Tequila raised his hands in mock surrender, “Well, you’ve got no competition from me anymore, partner. Like I said, the girls back in London love me.”

The pair were joined by Harry and Eggsy, who they chatted with for a while. Whiskey couldn’t really concentrate on the conversation though, he was just waiting for you to turn up. His wish was granted only a few minutes later, when he saw you walk through the warehouse doors. You looked up at the string lights and smiled softly at them, before looking around and your gaze landing on Whiskey. Your smile widened and you made your way over to him, and he was floored by how stunning you looked. You were in an almost floor-length black dress, with a slit down one leg that came halfway up your thigh. The dress had a plunging neckline and long sleeves. You had very natural looking make-up on, and your hair looked as it did most days at work, kept back but with a few stray bits of hair framing your face. To Whiskey, though, you looked ethereal. He thought you always looked beautiful regardless of what you wore, but tonight you looked outstanding.

As you approached him, you noticed the way he drank in your appearance, and jokingly gave him a twirl, giggling as you did so - which made his heart flip in his chest. The way he looked at you made you blush (as it did most days, let’s be honest), and you couldn’t help but feel a little shy when you finally reached him.

“Darlin’, you look exquisite.” He marveled and pulled you into a tight embrace. You blushed even further at the compliment and buried your face into the crook of his neck before pulling away and taking in his appearance too.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, cowboy.” He still had his trademark Stetson on, but was wearing black trousers and a velvety black blazer. A little bow tie at the top of his white shirt set the outfit off perfectly. You straightened the bow tie absentmindedly, noticing it had gotten a little crooked from your hug.

“If you took that hat off, you’d look just like James Bond.” You smirked at him as your hand idly ran down the lapel of his blazer before dropping it to your side once more.

“Is that so?” He smirked right back at you, before flagging the bartender down for drinks for the both of you. You chatted idly for a minute or so before Tequila bounded over and enveloped you in a hug. You laughed as he span you around in the air, and you hit him on the back, making him put you back down on the ground.

“Look at you in your fancy little flat cap,” you tease, and Whiskey smirks into his glass. “London has changed you, Tequila.”

“I’m still little ol’ me, just a bit more dapper. Can’t get away with denim jackets as a Kingsman.” He still has a hand wrapped around you waist as he speaks to you, and Whiskey can’t help but notice. “You look great, Rum.”

“You look good too,” you wink up at him and elbow him in the side softly. “I trust you haven’t been missing us too much? I’m sure the ladies have been throwing themselves at your feet with that accent of yours.”

“Naturally,” He smirks and you roll your eyes. “I have missed you guys though. You oughta come to London sometime.”

“Sure thing.” You pat him on the arm and he goes away to catch up with some other agents and eventually starts dancing in the middle of the warehouse, making an impromptu dance floor, which other people begin to join.

You and Whiskey lean back against the bar and watch the scene unfold, laughing at Eggsy and Tequila making fools of themselves on the dance floor. Everyone is at least a little tipsy by now. You lean slightly into Whiskey’s side, and rest your head atop his shoulder. He can feel his heart hammering in his chest, and prays to god you can’t feel it (you can, but you don’t think much of it, not wanting to get your hopes up). The pair of you stay like this for a while in comfortable silence, just enjoying being in one another’s company.

A familiar song hums through the speakers and you abruptly drain your glass, put it down and stand away from the bar, grabbing his free hand, “Care for a dance?”

“I’m not much of a dancer, sugar.” He raises an eyebrow. You tug on his hand a little, but he doesn’t budge.

You pout a little but let go nonetheless, “Suit yourself!” You sway over to the dance floor where you’re welcomed with cheers from Eggsy and Tequila.

Whiskey curses himself mentally, missing your hand in his. He watches as Tequila spins you around the dance floor and the pair of you giggle, Eggsy laughing alongside you. He should’ve just gone with you, maybe that could’ve been his chance to make a move.

Oh I, I got a funny feelin’ when she walked in the room

And I, as I recall, it ended much too soon.

The lyrics of the song hit him in the face, and like you’d done only a minute earlier, he downed his drink and followed your path to the dance floor. Tequila and Eggsy saw him coming and both gave him a wink before moving away from you.

“Care for a dance, doll?” He spoke softly, and you whipped round to face him.

“Thought you weren’t much of a dancer, Jack.” You smiled softly as his hands found their way to your waist.

“I’m not, but I’d be an idiot to miss out on this. I’ve wanted you for so long, and tonight finally made me realise maybe you wanted me too. ” He leaned down to rest his forehead against yours.

You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face, and you placed your hands on either side of his neck. You swayed together for a moment before you leaned up and closed the gap between the pair of you, pressing your lips together. Whiskey immediately kissed you back, with passion, and you both pulled away when you heard your fellow agents cheering and hollering.

You both turned to look at the group gathered by the bar. Tequila was giving you a thumbs up, Eggsy was making an obscene gesture with his hands, and the rest of the agents raised their glasses at you and cheered again. You turned to face Jack again, and placed your hand on his cheek to bring his attention back to you before giggling. You repeated your action from months ago, running your finger down his nose. This time you saw the reaction it gained from the usually suave man in front of you. A blush crept up his neck and a shy smile adorned his features. You leaned up to peck the end of his nose and he laughed. Then you swept his Stetson off of his head and placed it on your own.

Then you moved back and ran your hands down his arms until your hands were entwined, and then you let him twirl you about the dance floor for a few more songs before you went back to the bar for more drinks. He kept a tight grip on your waist as you stood at the bar, and you could tell that being slotted into his side was going to become your new favourite place to be.

“I’m glad you finally admitted how you felt, Jack. It was getting a tad boring waiting for you to make a move.” You smirked up at him, with a hand at the nape of his neck, idly playing with his hair.

“You could’ve made a move yourself, princess.”

“Yeah, I could’ve. But you’re the one constantly laying on the pet names and suggestive comments. Only felt right to let you carry on charming me until you were ready to admit how you felt.” You leaned up to kiss him again.

“Sugar, you’re the one who called me cute all those months ago. Practically throwing yourself at me.” He joked against your lips as he pulled away.

You gasped and mocked offence, before giggling into his chest. “You are cute, I’ll give you that.”

“You’re much cuter, doll. Especially in my hat. Ravishing, even.” He could feel you smile against his chest.

“Is that so?” You echoed his earlier statement.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m wondering what you’d look like in only that, if I’m being honest with myself.” He smirked, but when you didn’t reply instantly, he wondered if he’d crossed a line.

Then you leaned back and looked up at him with a sultry look on your face, “Funny, I was just thinking the same about you and your bow tie. Wanna get out of here?”

“I’ve never wanted anything more, angel.” You kiss him once more and he lets you drag him out of the warehouse, only having enough time to catch Eggsy making the same sexual gesture as earlier, to which he replied with a middle finger.

#agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #kingsman #kingsman: the golden circle #agent whiskey fic #agent whiskey imagine #agent whiskey x fem!reader #pedro pascal x reader

[mrsmarymorstan]

Do you have any headcanons for all the Fruits Basket couples?

OKAY so I’ve been thinking about this one, so that’s why it’s kind of late. 

I have headcanons for ALL the couples, and if I don’t have any existing well then I sure do now! I’m gonna stick with one headcanon per canon couple though, because otherwise we’d be here till the END OF TIME! There WILL be Manga Spoilers here too FYI! So back away if you care about such tings. Anyway, without further ado:

1) Kyo X Tohru 

Kyo tries so desperately to do the chores for Tohru but she’s just too stubborn about things and it’s programmed into her now! He gets sick and tired of being forced to sit down as she cleans the floors and cooks dinner, that he starts to enforce a STRICT rota where in they split duties each day. So one night Kyo will cook and Tohru will wash up, and the next Kyo will clean the bathroom whilst Tohru does the kitchen and so on. People go to their house and side eye the fact that they need a PHYSICAL ROTA to decide these things, aren’t they MARRIED? And Kyo just shakes his head because “it’s the only way she’ll let me do anything. The rota MUST be enforced at all costs.” 

When Tohru becomes pregnant the rota gets replaced with things like “Relax and put your feet up because you are eight months pregnant STOP TRYING TO CLEAN THE FLOOR!” 

2) Machi X Yuki 

One of their first PROPER dates together was to a Summer Festival! It wasn’t intended as a double date but once Komaki and Kakeru found out they were going they INSISTED on going as a group! Komaki dressed Machi up in a Yukata, and Yuki did the whole =O moment when she arrived looking so beautiful. Kakeru has photos of it on his phone. 

However the moment Yuki treasures the most is when Machi pushed her purse into his hands so she could take on the air-gun game stand because they had an exclusive piece of Mogeta merchendise. He will forever remember the determined look on her face as she won toy after toy until eventually she got the correct number of bulls eyes. Yuki offered to try to win it for her, but she just shouted him down because NO! She has to do this FOR HERSELF! 

And if Yuki weren’t already in love.... 

3) Haru X Rin 

Haru and Rin attend the same Art and Design school together after graduation. Rin had to defer for a couple of years because of her health and of course the need to study for the entrance exams/portfolio review (I don’t know how Japanese Art & Design courses work....) They’re get a bit of a reputation on campus as a power couple. She studies Fine Art and he studies Fashion. Haru often features in her paintings and drawings, and she is his Go To model for all his designs. This continues when they graduate and Haru becomes a full time fashion designer (occasionally doing leather work for Ayame) and Rin starts selling her paintings and takes commissions. The reason Sora & Riku have so many matching outfits is just that they’re from Haru’s fashion line! 

4) Mitsuru X Ritsu

Clothes Swapping!!!! So much clothes swapping. Ritsu teachers her how to wear Furisode (until of course she’s no longer an unmarried woman wa-haaay!) and Mitsuru helps him find suits that actually suit him! And yes, that does include skirts. Their shared wardrobe is just that, a shared wardrobe. There’s a few things that need to be taken into consideration like height and so on, but on the whole their clothes are very much interchangeable. Ritsu does work in a bit more colour into Mitchan’s wardrobe though! So she’s not stuck looking too dower all the time. 

For their wedding, Ritsu wore a dress and Mitsuru wore a suit and were BOTH all the more comfortable for it. 

5) Hatori X Mayuko 

I’ve mentioned this before, I think, but I recon Mayu was already pregnant when they got married. It wasn’t the DECIDING factor on things, but when they found out she was pregnant for CERTAIN Hatori began to make plans to sort out the paperwork for their marriage. Mayuko denied him at first, just because it felt so sudden but came back the next day because yes, you’re right I do love you and I already know I want to keep this baby so yeah. Let’s do this thing! 

The kids were all very freaked out when they did the maths and realised that Kinu-chan was the result of unprotected sex... they literally had to sit through talks with them BOTH about How Not To Get Pregnant!!! Could they not take THEIR OWN ADVICE??? 

They are very much in love though, and are excellent parents to Kinu. 

BONUS: Upon getting married, Mayu realised that based on Hatori’s standing she now “outranked” all those Shitty Zodiac Parents and was just like “Oh I am going to WRECK these people for the things they did to my Kids!” 

Because yes, Mayu IS the greatest Teacher, her pupils all mean the WORLD to her, and the only thing holding her back before from kicking their arses was the fear of getting fired... but they’ve all graduated now SO COME HERE YOU FUCKERS TIME TO END YOU! 

6) Ayame X Mine 

They were the first couple to get married after the curse broke. The wedding was an incredibly gay affair. Ayame wore a wedding dress and MIne wore a suit (this is what inspird Ritsu and Mitchan a few years later) and they all looked AMAZING. There were several costume changes throughout the whole affair, so Mine DID get to wear cute dresses and Ayame looked dapper in some suits... but it was honestly a competition as to what sort of gender-presentation they were going to have each time they went to get changed. 

They had so many costume and venue changes that by their ACTUAL wedding night they were too exhausted to do anything more than cuddle up close together. But in all honesty? That was a better moment then any sex could ever hope to be! They finally got to be public about their love and PROPERLY hold one another in PUBLIC?! The love on their faces was so pure that not even Kyo could feel weird about it. 

7) Kakeru/Komaki 

When Kakeru eventually proposed to Komaki he planned to be really cool and suave but actually just cried the whole way through to the point where Komaki had to ask the question for him. Their wedding was a simple affair, because they wanted to save money to move in together properly. Kakeru’s dad was actively NOT invited. He literally got an invite saying “This is the date and the time and we would like to make sure that you are not within 1KM of the event you fucker.” 

8) Akito X Shigure 

They actually understood the amount of unhealthy elements linked with their relationship and took things really slowly. They even attended couples therapy so they could work everything out maturely, and so when they eventually decided to try for a child it was once they were in a really secure and solid relationship. They did NOT want to repeat the mistakes of their parents in ANY way! 

#Furuba #Fruits Basket #Furuba Manga Spoilers #Kyoru #Yuchi #Anonymous

[originofjaehyun]

Interlude: No More Drama | Part 5 | Day Dream

Interlude: No More Drama Masterlist

Word count: 3,496

Warnings: None

Part 5 | Day Dream

“Oh you and I falling further for love.”

Prev • Next

The amber flickers at the end of his lighter, lighting up one of the ends of his cigarette. He took a deep breath and exhaled the smoke into the air, leaving a trail of grey smoke. A tall dapper figure approached him, with the sound of the ice hitting the plastic glass filled with deep-brown liquid.

“Mind if I join?” Johnny said to him, already hung his cigarette in between his lips.

“I can use a company,” passing him his lighter, this is the usual afternoon after lunch for both Johnny and Jaehyun. They would go for a cigarette break at the smoking area while catching up on things. It can be work-related, or sometimes on personal subjects.

“So, it’s been three months. How’s everything?” Johnny asked while passing back the lighter after successfully lighting up his cigs.

“If you’re asking me how she’s doing, I think you know it better than I am. You’re constantly emailing her with the project. I bet you talk to her more than I did.”

“Seriously?” He lets out a puff, filling the room with his smoke. 

“Dude, it’s been three months and there’s no progress? I won’t be surprised if [Y/N]’s going to leave you for another man.”

Jaehyun tried to keep his calm, inhaling another breath of his cigarette, “It’s not like that,”

“I’m just… trying to be careful. We went on a few dates and she’s wonderful. I feel like every time we went out, even just to the nearby street food stalls, everything just sparkled and I could listen to her laughter every day.”

Johnny furrowed his brows, “You know that doesn’t add up, right? Did you hear yourself? You’re smitten, Jaehyun!”

Glints of flame appear on the end of Jaehyun’s cigarette. He is lost in his thoughts, not answering Johnny.

“Hey, look. I know you’re in… a difficult situation Jae. But think about it, she might be the one, but she might not be either. There’s no harm in trying, right?”

“But what if she’s the one, Johnny? The last thing that I would want to do is to hurt her feelings.”

Johnny used the hands that he didn’t use to hold his cigarette to support his forehead, grumbles, “I get it, and I get you can’t just tell anyone out of the blue about it too. But I hope you can give this one a chance. It’s been a long while since I saw you all over someone, and I know [Y/N]’s is not as weak as you thought she was. She’s amazing, I think she’d be the one you can tell about this.”

There’s a pause in between, space only filled with their huffs. The smoke waltzes in the air, making the room tasted like a jaundiced tar.

It’s been too long since he was selfless.

“Now you said it that way,” Jaehyun said, exhaling the grey smoke, “I might have to put my dib on her first. Who knows, someone might steal her away.”

Crescent moons emerged from Johnny’s eyes, “That’s what I’m talking about!” He then used his free arm to embrace Jaehyun, pulling his shoulder.

“By that someone,” Jaehyun then rolled his eyes to Johnny, “I mean it’s you.”

It replaces the dark, cloudy room atmosphere with laughter.

–

“Baking class?”

“Yes, I thought I can prove to you that I can cook fairly well.” The sound of the car’s engine was heard from the other side. It seems like Jaehyun just went home, and it’s almost 10 PM.

“Well cooking and baking is an entirely different thing, you know?”

“And that is exactly why I think the baking class is a great idea. I’m a great cook, if I may say so. I baked a bit during high school but that is when I…”

He paused.

“Jaehyun? Hello?” You called for him, wondering if the signal was disturbed.

“Oh yeah, I was saying,” He cleared his throat, “I think it would be fun. I actually already booked two tickets for us in advance, because the class that I’m taking is actually quite popular.”

That’s very sweet. You thought to yourself, “What if I say I wouldn’t come? That’s very brave of you thinking that I would just agree to it.”

He chuckled, “I don’t know, I guess I’ll take Johnny. I pretty much know his schedule and he’s free that day. I think.”

You burst out in laughter, “Two male adults taking a baking class? That’s adorable!” You pictured Jaehyun and Johnny both in aprons, decorating their cakes as you tried to bite your laughter. “You sure I wouldn’t get in your way to have the perfect date with Johnny?”

“Of course I would prefer to do it with you!” He sulked, “I mean, we’ve been going around coffee shops and I think a different date setup would be nice, no?”

“I'm just kidding, Jaehyun.” You decided not to tease him any longer, “I’ll see you on Saturday?”

He can finally sigh in relief, “Great. I’ll pick you up at your place. I’ll be there at 10 AM?”

“Wait, when is the baking class again?”

“It actually starts at 12. I think we’re not going to make anything that’s overly complicated so it won’t take that much time, but I thought we could grab some coffee first before we went to the class?”

Sweet as ever.

“But it’s Saturdaaay, don’t you think I deserve to have more time with my bed?” You whined, pretending that you have the cutesy charm when in reality you almost don’t have it at all.

You can hear the familiar sound of him letting out a soft chuckle at the other end, “I promise you I can give you better cuddles than your bed? Or we can cuddle first if you want… then I can bring coffees to your place instead.”

“Oh how smooth of you!” You shrieked, grateful that he’s not in front of you to witness your flushed cheeks.

“I’ll take the first coffee offer, thank you. I would probably need it anyway to fill up my daily caffeine intake.”

He laughs, genuine but there’s a slight hint of disappointment, “Alright, I’ll see you on Saturday. I almost reached my place so I’m gonna end the call.”

“Sure, I’ll see you soon.”

You paused before continuing, “Jaehyun?”

“Yes?”

“I’ll also take the cuddle offer if that’s ok with you.” You said to him before planting your face to your pillow out of embarrassment.

He finally laughed, lovingly, “Sure, [Y/N]. I’ll give you plenty.”

–

You took a sip at your hot latte, surprised with how perfect it was.

“How do you know my coffee order?”

He smiled, proceeded to blow his own cup while he guided you to walk to the baking class’ direction, “We went to a lot of coffee dates, [Y/N], it would be weirder if I don’t know your usual order.”

Jaehyun insisted that he would be the one who’ll take the take-away order. He asked you to just sit down and wait at one of the waiting chairs at the cafe. He told you that you’re going to walk to the class from the coffee shop since it is within walking distance but you know he actually wants to talk to you for a bit before going to the lesson. 

You took a glance at him, how could a person be so attentive? You wonder. He took a sip of his own coffee, immediately pushing the cup away from his lips then sticking his tongue out, indicating that the coffee is currently too hot for his liking.

“Aw Jaehyun, I didn’t know you have a cat’s tongue! You always order an iced americano so I never know.”

“Well, today is special since we’re walking outside, and it’s still quite chilly to get myself an iced americano,” He said while licking his lips, trying to subdue the numbness, “But yeah I guess there’s another free fact I give to you, huh?”

He stretched out his hands, asking for yours. Shyly, you took his hand and you intertwined your fingers with him. The weather was indeed rather cold, but Jaehyun's hand was warm. You walked together while he would occasionally swing his hand in excitement. He’s like an adorable golden retriever. You can’t help but to grin every time, and it is contagious as he would lovingly smile at you too.

You finally reached the shop, where the sign reads Kitchen Beat. The store was indeed well known for their pastries. It is a humble bakehouse, but it has recently become very popular due to a reality-show coverage. The cakes they sell are nothing that’s overly groundbreaking, but the taste feels very authentic and feels like a passed-family recipe, therefore gathered loyal customers. Because of that, they’ve been expanding their business to having limited baking class each month. 

“We’re here,” Jaehyun reaffirms that you will certainly attend a class here. “The class is on the second floor. Let’s go.”

He said while still refusing to let go of your hand. The store is busy, but not bustling with people. The atmosphere is cozy, and it feels like Christmas. 

“Hi!” A warm smile came from one of the staff, “Are you going to join our baking class today?”

Jaehyun replied to her smile, dimples poking both of his cheeks, “Yes, I already book 2 slots under the name Jeong Jaehyun.”

The staff nods, while checking the tablet she’s holding. “Yup, two adults for the couple, I assume?” She glanced at the sight of your hands that are still holding Jaehyun's.

“Oh!” You flustered, reactively letting go of his hand. “We’re actually not.”

“Yet.” Jaehyun intercept.

Your cheeks start to flushed in the color bright pink while you shoot a glare at him, embarrassed at why he’s so open about his feelings. The staff burst in laughter, “Well I hope our cakes can help you with that. They really are very good.”

“Please go to the room that has the label Kitchen One. We’re waiting for two more couples to come before we can start our class!”

You and Jaehyun walked to the designated room, and after a few steps you threw a slap onto Jaehyun’s arm.

“Ouch!” He rubs the part of his arm where you landed your slap. “What was that for?”

“Why did you have to tell her about us! You can just lie to her or something.”

“Oh?” He raised one of his brows, “So I can just tell her that we are official?”

You smacked his arm again, followed by him pretending that he’s hurt when in reality you know he can handle your soft punches. 

“You really are like a little firecracker, feisty as always.”

He opened the sliding door, exposing you and him to the audience inside. You are about to reply to his teasing, before you suddenly saw the change of the color on his face.

“Jaehyun?”

His apron was tied very well to his slim waist. His eyes met Jaehyun’s, only causing Jaehyun to tense his jaws. That person immediately approached where you and Jaehyun were, as Jaehyun stopped his steps after that person called him. He was another stunning man, and it makes you wonder what Jaehyun did in his past life to be surrounded with attractive people. 

“Taeyong.” Jaehyun’s voice was low, and faint, signalling that he didn’t want to be the center of attention since now few pair of eyes were in your direction.

“What are you doing here?” Taeyong finally breaks the tension in between them. His tone is not aggressive but you can sense that it is very territorial.

“I’m joining the class. I should be the one...” Jaehyun saw the name tag hanging on Taeyong’s apron. “Right, it makes sense for you to teach here.”

The silence grows louder. Jaehyun still remained in his position, not moving a single inch. You want to try to calm him down, trying to ask him to enter the room first and continue the conversation at one corner instead of in front of everyone. Taeyong finally saw your figure that has been hiding behind Jaehyun.

“So, you got plenty of time,” Taeyong looked briefly at you, “But you can’t afford to contact him?”

“Taeyong.”

“Do you know how much he holds on? Can you imagine how he would feel if he saw you neglecting him, just to see you having the time of your life with some random girl?”

“Yong!” Jaehyun finally raised his voice, “She got nothing to do with this. And if that is how you saw me, by all means label it to me, but don’t drag her.”

Realizing that now you have full attention of the other audiences that had been rudely eavesdropping onto Jaehyun and Taeyong’s conversation, you decided to step in, “Jaehyun? I think we should… move to the side for a bit.”

You can see his facial muscles start to relax. It seems that your voice managed to calm him down. He then holds your hand, trying to find an empty kitchen island so that you and him can start to prep yourself for the class, brushing Taeyong off.

Taeyong tried to stop you, fortunately the staff earlier came in with the last two couples. There were six couples in total, including you and Jaehyun. Thankfully Taeyong got stationed at the other end, and you tried your best to distract Jaehyun from him. You can see Taeyong took a glimpse at your table, every now and then, but you make sure Jaehyun didn’t notice it.

“Good afternoon everyone!” A woman in her mid-40s gathered everyone’s attention. “I’m going to be your main instructor today and we have few teachers that are stationed nearby you to help you during the baking process. For today’s class, we are going to bake our signature fresh cream cake. It’s pretty simple for beginners and it is very suitable to be eaten at this time of the year!”

She clasp both of her hands, “Alright now! Shall we begin?”

–

“I’ll put the cake in the fridge first, yeah?”

You’re back at your place, as there’s no way either you or Jaehyun going to finish a whole cake by yourself. You decided to eat them after having your dinner outside.

The baking class started off pretty rough, with how sensitive Jaehyun was. But you choose not to pry to his personal issues. So you just playfully smudge some cake flour, poking it to his dimples. He almost got his revenge but you’re in luck because the teacher was looking at him and told him not to play with the ingredients. Afterwards, the Jaehyun that you know is back, the warmhearted Jaehyun. It’s also a good thing Taeyong didn’t bother you much during class, as he was also occupied with teaching the other students. He did try to talk to Jaehyun after class, but Jaehyun just simply told him that today is probably not the best time for them to talk.

“Do you want to open the beers now?” He asked you while you’re busy re-arranging the content of your fridge.

“Ah, just leave mine on the counter. I’ll catch you up at the balcony.”

Jaehyun nods in agreement, leaving your share at the counter as instructed. He took his can and walked to the balcony. You’re almost done and you can hear the sound of his lighter.

You opened your can, making him turn his head to you. You walk to his side, resting your head to his arm. 

“You’re not going to ask?” 

You look at him, you were about to fire up your cigs, postponing it by drawing them out of your lips, “I believe you’re going to tell me on your own once you’re ready.”

“I know whatever happened today is probably something that I should never dig without your permission. Besides, it would also feel nicer if you’re going to tell me from your own will. Feels like you fully trusted me, you know?”

You ended your sentence with a smile, causing him to move his head downwards, before making another eye contact with you.

His lips are now pressing together, exposing his smile, “And this is the very reason why I’m grateful that I fall for you.”

You didn’t expect him to suddenly confess like this, so you are a bit taken aback with it. You awkwardly shift your gaze somewhere else, fidgeting on your unlit cigarette.

Jaehyun puts down both his cigarette and his share of beer, moving closer to you. He swiftly crossed his arms over you, forcing you to be within his arm and look at his eyes once more. 

“Oh, uhm, well…”

“I actually don’t understand why you do, actually.” You said as you look at the direction of the skyline, feeling too embarrassed to see him eye-to-eye. “I’ve mentioned that there are prettier girls than me, I bet you’ve met better ones in any other aspects too…”

“[Y/N], I wish you could see how much I love you.”

He cuts you before you could continue. He locks eyes with you and you could see just how deep they really are. The soft warmness of them wraps around you affectionately, but not in the way of those cheesy romance novels. You can tell that what he’s trying to say was true.

“Yes, I might be attracted to you because you’re different. The first time I saw you and talked to you, I can see a bit of me in you. You know, I probably longed for you because you don’t fawn on me in the first place.”

“But that night when I saw you again at Wolfgang’s, I just know I’m not taking anymore chances. The dates we’ve spent, you’ve let me discover a side of me that I didn’t know. I never know I could expose my feelings to someone like this.”

You can feel the heat starting to pile on your face, showing your now flushed cheeks over his confession. Noticing that the wind was a bit harsh, he pulls you closer in his arms. Not that you need another heat-pack, human-sized for it matters, you can also feel Jaehyun’s starting to get very warm too. You return his embrace, snuffling your face to his chest.

“The more days I spend with you, the more I fall for you.”

You swore you can feel the butterflies in your stomach start to fly in every direction. 

“I’m glad I found you. Loving you feels like I’m dreaming.”

He lets out the most genuine smile, eyes glistening with his droplets showing how sincere he is. “[Y/N], I really like how we are right now but I guess I’m quite the ambitious man.”

“Will you let me take care of you?”

You would regret it if you kept hiding in his hug, so you didn’t. You saw him directly to meet his gaze, and can’t help to admit that you feel the same way too.

“You know, Jaehyun, you’re an oddball. You just fall for a stranger, how dangerous could that be?!” 

“But then again, I guess I’m an oddball too. I don’t know, it’s probably the wind, but it keeps pushing me, one step at the time closer to you. And you’re warm, and I like that.”

Realizing where you’re going, Jaehyun couldn’t hide his smile.

“I guess, I’m falling further for love?” You said as you smile at him, making his smile grow even wider that you’re scared his dimples might be poking his cheeks a little bit too hard right now.

“If you’re sure you’ll have me, then I’ll be glad to have someone like you to take care of me. Only if you promise you’ll let me take care of you too.”

Your reply instantly filled him with joy, as he rushed to hug you tighter. 

“Thank you,” He said while caressing your head, “I promise I’ll treat you well.”

“Also,” He continues, “It’s not that I don’t trust you, nor did I try to hide anything from you. It’s just… the timing is not right yet. I promise you when everything is all good, you’d be the first person I tell.”

You let go of his hug, so that you can see him in the eyes, “Jaehyun, I understand. There’s no need to rush anything, yeah? I still love you for who you are and I don’t think that feelings could change that easily.” You cupped your hand to his cheeks, making sure Jaehyun knows that you’re being sincere.

Just before Jaehyun could reply, his phone rang.

He looked at the caller’s name on his screen, “Sorry, I think I should take this call. Do you want to smoke first? I’ll go inside for a while, I’ll come back soon.”

You nod, and he only answered after he’s inside so you didn’t catch the caller’s name.

How you wish you’d push yourself to know who the caller was.

A/N: Hehe eek is this chapter too sweet? I hope you guys are still around for the fluffy chapters T_T

#jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun fluff #jaehyunxreader #jaehyun fic #jaehyun angst #mafia!au #jaehyun #jaehyun scenario #fic jaehyun #angst jaehyun #interlude no more drama #nct scenario #inmd #day dream

[ironstarker]

understudy

notes: as a milestone for reaching 500 followers, i felt compelled to write this. this is a mixture of starker and spiderio, but the emphasis is on starker. i’d like to do a part two someday, because i have an idea of where i’d like to see this go, but i say that about a lot of things. also i won’t lie, this was partially inspired by taylor swift’s new song exile. bon iver gets me every time. this is a long one (5k! whoot!) so i put it under a read more. enjoy!

warning(s): alcoholism (heavily implied)

AO3 Link ______________________________________________________________

With every passing moment, it became harder for Tony to look away from Peter. He was standing a few paces away, one arm snug around the waist of a researcher Tony knew (after extensive digging with FRIDAY) to be one Quentin Beck. The guy was upstanding, one of the best in his field, and Tony supposed that it was natural for Peter to gravitate towards him. The kid loved brilliant minds, and how could Tony blame him? It was the reason they’d gotten together in the first place. Peter insisted that he’d fallen in love with Tony’s brain before his money, but the older man was willing to bet the combination of his brain and his mouth were what had driven Peter away.

That was how it went for Tony, without fail.

There was a woman at his own hip, a champagne flute in her hand. She was trying to hold his attention. Tony was surprised that she hadn’t given up yet (he was up to four already tonight, each who had tried and failed and decided he wasn’t worth the effort when there were other men just as pretty as him, and maybe not as rich but rich enough to be worth it) but he felt it coming soon. The curve of her smile had turned into a gentle frown, and he saw movement from the corner of her eye as she continued looking over her shoulder to see what captured his attention. She would know. They all knew the story of Tony Stark and Peter Parker, courtesy of the tabloids and TMZ.

He wasn’t sure who had recorded their fight, but he’d gotten his settlement for it already. That didn’t mean it would scrape the damn thing off the surface of the internet, though. It was there, to live in permanence forever, the moment that Tony mouthed off at Peter in the middle of Marea and left him (and Tony’s favorite tiramisu) seated alone to handle the check. It could’ve been worse. Honestly, Tony had a mean streak in him, and Peter was lucky to have gotten out before the older man really humiliated him.

The kid was lucky to be free of him.

But Tony wanted him back.

He hated it, standing there trying to pretend like he didn’t see the boy enjoying his evening with Quentin. According to FRIDAY, their relationship had started shortly after the video had been released. Tony was willing to bet Quentin had swooped in like some overgrown vulture, intent on snatching Peter up before someone else had the chance to. They met because Tony had reassigned Peter from the project they’d been working on together and he’d put him on Quentin’s instead. It was a move meant to get Peter away from him, and it had worked. Much, much too well it had worked. FRIDAY let him watch the footage of Peter introducing himself to Quentin. It was innocent, at first. Tony watched each day of footage, and soon enough morning waves turned into morning coffees courtesy of the younger man, and then late nights where their fingers would brush and Peter’s cheeks would turn red.

Tony recognized all of the signs, because each and every one of them were things the kid used to do with him. Peter used to bring him coffee every morning, and the older man would give him a grateful (if not tired) smile. The late nights in the lab? Tony had thought that was their thing. At least fooling around on top of his desk remained sacred. Peter wasn’t fooling around with Quentin on Stark Industries property, probably because he didn’t trust Tony not to invade his privacy (smart move) and fire Quentin as a result. He’d never fire Peter. Tony had promised the kid that, even as he’d tried apologizing while Peter packed away his things into a box and saw himself out of the penthouse.

He wanted to be bitter towards Peter for moving on so quickly. How had he already found a replacement? But how could Tony blame him? His name was splashed across every tabloid and had been for months since they’d broken up. Every one night stand that he left charity galas and nightclubs with headlined the front page of celebrity news gossip, and Tony hadn’t done a thing to rein it (or himself) in.

But Peter looked like he was doing fine. Maybe the tabloid gossip didn’t even bother him.

“ — night, Tony,” the woman in front of him said, and he blinked, coming back to earth with enough time to register her walking away from him, hips swaying.

On any other night, Tony was good at playing bachelor. He turned on the charm for anyone and everyone, men and women alike. Tonight, with Peter in attendance? He was hopeless. Tony was beginning to think that he shouldn’t have allowed the kid to come, but HR and their anti-discrimination bullshit would’ve had something to say about that.

So, instead of continuing his staring, he turned on his heel and went to get himself a drink. It was easier to handle these things when he was drunk out of his mind, and Tony was hoping it would help him forget the kid laughing because of whatever dumb joke Quentin had whispered into his ear.

Across the room, Peter’s eyes flickered in Tony’s direction. The billionaire’s presence filled up every space that he went, and tonight Peter felt his ego transcended the entire ballroom. They were at Carnegie Hall for Stark Industries’ annual Christmas party, and everyone wanted a piece of Tony. Peter couldn’t blame them. He looked exceptional tonight, dapper in a freshly pressed suit and a bowtie that had to be new. Peter had never seen him wear it before, and he’d taken an extensive tour of Tony’s closet. He tried not to look for the other man too much tonight, but sometimes his eyes would stray and he wasn’t able to help himself.

At least Quentin hadn’t noticed.

Peter’s brow knitted as he watched Tony direct himself towards the bar. That was when Peter stopped watching. He didn’t like seeing Tony drink. Peter was confident that whatever had happened at Marea happened because Tony had had a few too many glasses of scotch at work and then proceeded to drink throughout the first half of their dinner together. It was when the boy had tried to casually suggest that he stop that the other man had exploded.

And now, that part of their history together would be immortalized, never to be forgotten.

It wasn’t a part that Peter was proud of. The public hadn’t seen the rest of their moments together in private, and while Peter was thankful for it, that night painted a bad look on Tony. Pepper had told him the next morning that share prices for Stark Industries had dipped three points after that video had been released, and she was losing her mind doing damage control. Peter had promised to stay away from Tony. So far, he had done an excellent job of it. But forgetting Tony Stark? It was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, even with Quentin by his side.

Quentin was a wonderful man. A little overbearing at times, sort of quirky in the way that all researchers were. He was obsessed with his work, but that suited Peter fine. It gave them easy subjects to talk about, and Peter had found that he was a sucker for intelligence. When Quentin had asked him out to dinner after a long, successful day in the lab? How could Peter have said no?

And now the man’s fingers were digging into his side, not enough to hurt or anything, but a warm reminder that he was there. It was that sense of belonging Peter thought he had craved, but even now his eyes strayed to Tony. The other man had raised his hand to flag the bartender. Peter saw a flash of green from where Tony had probably pulled out a hundred dollar bill to tip him. The older man didn’t carry change, because he only ever withdrew money for events like these, Peter knew. He bit his lip as he watched, but then a gentle squeeze on his hip made him look up into the face of the man smiling down at him.

“Do you want something from the bar?”

Quentin was asking him that because he had to have seen the way Peter was watching Tony. In his panic, Peter was quick to nod. “I’ll — I saw a woman with some blue frozen thing that looked good,” Peter explained, and he tried not to cringe at how obvious it sounded.

But Quentin looked placated, if not a little comforted by his words, and Peter almost let out a sigh of relief. “One blue frozen thing, coming right up,” Quentin said. He grinned, leaning in. Peter raised on the tips of his toes so the taller man could plant a kiss on his cheek, and he watched Quentin walk away. Tony was still standing at the bar, leaning against it looking carefree. A woman had sidled up to him again. Peter looked away, searching the crowd to find faces that he recognized. He didn’t want to watch Tony charming another person to warm his bed at night.

At the bar, Tony was drumming his fingers against the counter, watching the bartender pour him a scotch (“Generous on the ice, generous on the pour,” Tony had said), all the while fighting the urge to turn around. He had hopes that the booze would help him forget all about Peter. His head was filled with Peter, stuffed like a ball of cotton or a turkey on Thanksgiving. The bartender set his drink down in front of him and Tony raised it in a mock gesture of cheers. The man had already turned to another customer, so Tony sighed into his glass before taking a swig.

There was another woman by his side, closer than was natural. “What’re you drinking tonight, Tony?” she asked, and he appraised her, taking his time to answer. This one was a blonde, her hair framing her face in long waves, her makeup a little too flashy for his tastes. After all the time he’d spent with Peter, his tendencies had swayed more toward natural of late. It was why he enjoyed morning sex so much. Most of these women would wash up before a second go, or if they didn’t, half their faces wound up smeared in his pillows. The men were even better.

“Scotch on the rocks.” She made a face, and out of habit he grinned. “Not a fan? What’re you pining for, sweetheart?” He went to raise his hand to get the bartender’s attention, but she stayed his wrist. Her fingers dug into his skin, and he found himself wishing he was left handed so his watch might’ve absorbed some of the bite of her manicure. “You.”

God, the level of effort it took for him not to roll his eyes was astounding. He tried to smile at her, but Tony knew that it looked like a grimace. She was staring at him with bedroom eyes, ready to pounce. Her fingers kept him from using his scotch as a distraction, which was the entire point. “You and everyone else in the room,” he said, and he gave a haughty bark of laughter that he knew she wouldn’t like.

Not to his surprise, in her shock, her fingers went slack on his wrist. She gaped at him, and Tony arched a brow and gave her a cool look as he raised his tumbler of scotch and sipped it. “Guess TMZ had a point,” she said, all spark gone from her face.

She looked at him, disgusted, turning her back to leave him to his thoughts. Maybe she thought he’d be ashamed of himself. Tony wasn’t. He watched her go, a sense of relief settling inside his stomach. Tony turned his body back towards the bar. He took another sip from his scotch, debating whether or not to down the contents, when a familiar voice spoke up next to him,

“ — said it was some kind of frozen blue drink?”

Tony turned his head and stared at Quentin Beck. It was comical, the way the man looked at him like he’d grown a second head. Tony chanced a look over his shoulder, but without Quentin’s height to pinpoint, he couldn’t make out where Peter was in the crowd. “Oh, Tony,” Quentin said, and the older man’s eyes were directed towards Quentin. “You know, I’ve been meaning to speak to you about additional funding for the project. Peter’s drawn up schematics that allow for additional detail with the augmented reality program I’m — you know, Binary Au — ”

“BARF, right,” Tony said, and he found a pathetic satisfaction in the way Quentin’s brow knitted and he frowned. “What about the funding?”

Quentin hesitated, looking as though he was having an internal debate about whether or not to correct Tony’s acronym, but he continued, “Well, uh, as I was saying, Peter found a way to get microscopic levels of accuracy within the program. I’m talking perfect skin texture, details like fingerprints and even something as small as a hangnail — but it’s going to be expensive.”

“Expensive,” Tony repeated, “and experimental?”

It shouldn’t have made Tony so gleeful, the apprehension on Quentin’s face. “…Somewhat. There’s no guarantees that it isn’t dependent on what the person can imagine. Someone like myself, or — or you, or even Peter, we know what the program can do, so that would come naturally. But for people with standard levels of cognition and intelligence, it might not matter.”

Tony liked to think that he was a practical man. He wouldn’t go around sabotaging groundbreaking work because of a failed relationship. Did he want to? Of course he did. He wanted to deny Quentin’s budget request, tell him to table it and save it for the Board to hear about, but he was the CEO. So Tony shrugged. “File a formal request. Give it to Pepper, I’ll sign it. I like what you and Pete are doing.”

Quentin gave him a strange look. Tony was quick to brush it off by sipping his scotch. Thankfully, the bartender made his own appearance, setting down a tall, frozen glass of something that was electric blue and didn’t look the slightest bit alcoholic. Quentin’s eyebrows rose as he looked at it. It even had a tiny umbrella speared through a cherry floating at the top of it.

“You always struck me as a wine drinker, Beck,” Tony said.

“It’s for Peter,” he said.

“Peter doesn’t drink.”

It was automatic, Tony’s response. His mouth decided to do that thing where it ran without consulting first with his brain. He saw Quentin’s expression shift, his fingers stilling against the sides of the glass from where he’d meant to grab it. Tony should’ve let him go. He shouldn’t have said anything. But it was true. Peter didn’t drink. He’d never seen the kid so much as sip alcohol in all the months they were together. The one time Peter had offered him a taste of his scotch, the poor kid had gone green around the gills and gagged, for fuck’s sake. He hated it.

“You don’t know Peter as well as you think you do.” Quentin was smiling at him, but there was something vicious about it, like he hadn’t just asked Tony for a budgetary increase on his project. Tony raised his chin a fraction, straightening himself up to his full height so he wasn’t eye level with Quentin’s collarbone, at least. The other man was still taller than him, and Tony found that he was peeved by it.

“Maybe it's the other way around,” Tony suggested.

Quentin’s eyebrow rose, but Tony didn’t miss the way his expression darkened. There was something there, he had always suspected it. The researcher put on this nice, quirky little act, but Tony had a feeling he was as feral as a hyena. Always loitering around bigger, better people, waiting to fend off their scraps.

“I think Peter already settled that for himself,” Quentin said, and he picked up the drink and spared Tony a cool glance. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Stark. My date is waiting for his drink.”

“Pretty rude for you to have kept him waiting so you could grovel at my feet about a little extra budget,” Tony snarked.

All Beck had to do, in Tony’s humble opinion, was turn and walk away. He could be the bigger man. That was fine. Tony didn’t want to be the bigger man. There was a gleam in his eyes that spoke of how he wanted to take the role of vindictive bastard tonight.

Beck didn’t turn around. He didn’t walk away. Instead, he said, “I’m the rude one, Mr. Stark? You’re the one who stood by and broke the kid’s heart. He loved you, you know. I don’t get why. What’s there to want from a drunk two bottles away from an early grave? But you know what? Don’t worry. I’ll be there to pick up the pieces.”

Tony’s lips twisted into the beginnings of a snarl, his hand finding Quentin’s tie before the other had time to react. The drink in Quentin’s hand sloshed over the side, splashing across their shoes and staining the other man’s sleeves.

“What are you doing?”

Peter’s voice cut through the red haze he saw. Quentin’s expression had morphed from brimming rage to relief. “Pete! There you are. I don’t know what came over Tony, he’s — ”

“Tony, let him go,” Peter demanded, one of his hands on Tony’s wrists, trying to relax the ironclad grip he had on the other man.

Maybe it was because Tony was already looking to pick a fight. Maybe it was because the sight of Peter trying to dab at his date’s stained arm filled him with a possessive rage, or because he hated how Peter was apologizing to Quentin on his behalf like he had to. Whatever the reason, the next thing Tony knew was the crack of bone against his knuckles as Quentin’s face wound up a punching bag for his fist. The other man staggered back, groaning, bringing a hand up to his bleeding nose.

“Tony!”

It wasn’t Peter who had called his name, but rather Pepper. She was marching up to them even as Peter was fussing over Quentin’s face. Quentin was trying to brush it off, but as Pepper weaved through the thick throng of people in the room, Tony took that as his opportunity to exit the stage.

He fled, like he always did, ignoring the way Pepper shouted after him and the hurt look on Peter’s face that would come to haunt him the rest of the night.

Tony spent his evening locked up in his penthouse. FRIDAY was under strict orders to deny entry to anyone else, so he sat in his darkened living room, hunched forward on his couch. There was a half-drunk bottle of scotch sitting on the coffee table, and a tumbler that was ready to be refilled. He groaned, rubbing at his eyes. Tony had since removed his suit jacket, his bowtie left draped across his shoulders and his shirt unbuttoned. He drank into the early hours of the morning and then passed out on the couch, his polished shoes still on his feet.

“Boss? You’ve got a visitor.”

Tony groaned, turning his head into the couch to hide the light from the risen sun. “Where are my blackout curtains, FRIDAY?” he asked, his voice muffled by the couch cushion.

There was a beat of silence, but then he heard a soft whirring and the room was bathed in darkness. Tony risked it, cracking open an eye and lifting this head off the couch. The room was almost completely dark.

“What’s this about a visitor?” Tony prompted, his voice gruff, his eyes lingering on the empty bottle of scotch. Jesus, had he drunk it all? “No visitors allowed. We’re under strict lockdown,” he said, and Tony got to his feet, his bowtie slipping off and onto the floor. Tony left it there in favor of picking up his bottle of scotch and his tumbler, carrying them both into the kitchen. His head was pounding, and he needed some fucking Advil.

“It’s Peter, boss. He says it’s important. He used your code to override my protocols.”

Tony grunted, depositing the empty glass into his sink and leaving the empty bottle on the marbled countertops. He’d have to get those access codes changed. “How forward of him,” Tony muttered, more to himself than to FRIDAY, and he moved to rummage through his cabinets, hunting the Advil that would ease the pounding in his brain.

No sooner than he’d popped three of the pills into his mouth and tossed them back with a sip of water than FRIDAY announced Peter’s arrival to the penthouse. Tony sighed, lingering near the sink, and then he walked away from his kitchen and made his way to the foyer.

When the elevator opened, revealing Peter, Tony’s heart began thrumming in his chest. He’d always had heart problems, courtesy of a shitty ticker that was hereditary on his father’s side, but he knew this wasn’t a result of that. This was a direct response to Peter, who looked red-eyed and sad. Tony knew he shouldn’t be thinking it, but he hoped that meant things with Quentin were over. Peter had made his choice.

Instead, the kid shrugged a backpack off his shoulder as he stepped out of the elevator and into the foyer. He was biting his lip, his eyes darting around like he was once again familiarizing himself with a space he had once filled. If he thought anything of the fact that Tony was wearing the same clothes that he had the night before, he didn’t bring it up. Peter opened the backpack, and Tony blinked as he pulled out an AC/DC shirt, worn and ragged, that Tony recognized as his own.

“I found this in my bottom drawer while I was doing laundry last week,” Peter explained, and he clutched the shirt like he never wanted to let it go. Tony didn’t say a word. “At first I — I wanted to keep it.”

“You should,” Tony blurted, and he again cursed his mouth.

Peter smiled in a sad way and shook his head, running his fingers over the faded lettering. “I can’t. It’s yours, and I can’t look at it without thinking about…about us.” Peter raised his head and looked at Tony, tears in his eyes. “It’s not fair to Quentin.”

Tony’s heart sank. “To Quentin?”

There was an uncomfortable beat of silence between them. Peter’s eyes were anxious as they settled on Tony. He waited, like he was expecting the older man to say something else. When Tony didn’t, Peter held the shirt out in offering. Tony looked at it, but he didn’t take it.

In the back of his mind, something whispered to him that he didn’t like being handed things.

Another part of him protested, it’s Peter.

“I don’t want it,” Tony said, and shrugged. “Keep it. Throw it away. Toss it outside, for all I care. If I missed it I would’ve given you a call.”

Peter’s shoulders slumped, and Tony felt his heart seizing. He wanted to take it back, to apologize. “If that’s how you feel,” Peter said, and sounded resigned as he took the shirt and started zipping up his backpack. Tony noticed the kid didn’t put the shirt inside. “I also came here to…to talk,” Peter hedged, dragging the backpack up his shoulder so it was slung there, dangling from one strap. “About what happened at the Christmas party.”

“What happened? Something happened?”

Trying to make light of it wasn’t working, though. Peter’s frown deepened. “Can you just — for once in your life, Tony, can you be serious? This is serious! You’re acting like a — like a teenager. You got into a fight with my boyfriend in front of everyone we work with and now we’re headlining the front pages again. I was just putting everything else behind me and now I have to worry about this, too?”

“It’s tabloid gossip, Pete. It’ll die down as soon as everyone has something better to talk about. Word on the street is Jennifer Aniston was seen leaving Brad Pitt’s bachelor pad two nights ago, think about the buzz when that leaks.”

Peter didn’t look mollified. “I don’t want to be tabloid gossip, Tony! I don’t want to be TMZ’s hot topic for the day. It undermines everything I’m doing. All anybody sees now when I walk into a room is Tony Stark’s leftovers, and that sucks.”

This time, it was Tony’s turn to look affronted. He tried to ignore the bitter pang that he felt in his heart. “You’re not my leftovers,” he whispered.

“Right,” Peter scoffed, “tell that to Perez Hilton.” There was another moment of uncomfortable silence. “Tony, I can’t do this. I can’t keep doing this. It’s ruining every aspect of my life.”

The kid’s voice sounded thick with tears, and Tony couldn’t do anything other than lower his eyes. He looked down at the shirt clutched in Peter’s grasp. “You came all this way to bring that back?” he asked, and the abrupt change in subject must have startled Peter, because he raised his head and stared at the older man like he’d grown a second head. “Here. Give it to me.” Tony snatched the fabric from Peter’s grasp, tucking it beneath his arm.

“That isn’t…that’s not all I wanted,” Peter admitted, after a heavy moment of fidgeting that made Tony want to grab the kid’s hands to make him stop picking at his own nail beds. He hated when the kid did that. Peter took a deep breath, almost like he was steeling himself. “I wanted to tell you I’m resigning.”

Tony blinked, feeling like the earth was tilting on its axis but he wasn’t moving with it. “Resigning?” He sounded like a parrot.

“I was offered a position at Oscorp. They’re — it’s a really good opportunity, and…and I need to distance myself from whatever this is.”

“Distance? Pete, give me a break. We’ve been distant. This is the closest we’ve been in months.” How desperate did it sound, him cracking a joke to make Peter stay?

“You know what I mean, Tony.” Peter was mumbling his words. Tony wanted to yell at him, to tell him that he knew he was mumbling because he didn’t want to have this conversation. Why were they having it? “So — so here’s my badge,” Peter added, unfastening it from his backpack. He offered it to Tony. “I know I should probably be doing this through, like, Pepper or someone, but I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else.”

Tony found himself thinking that was nice of Peter. Decent. But Peter was a decent kid, so it wasn’t anything less than what he expected. “Hold on a hot second. Let me get this straight. You’re turning down what’s all but a guaranteed corner office as the head of R&D for a shot at Oscorp? Kid, you and I both know you can do better.”

Peter’s expression flickered from shocked to hurt, and the hand holding his security badge dropped to his side. “You know, after months I thought maybe you’d get the balls to apologize. To — to call me, or to text me. Something. Anything. But you didn’t. So yeah, I moved on.” Tony watched him frown, staring down at his scuffed Converse. “You were the one who left me there, in that restaurant. It wasn’t the other way around, Tony. So yeah, I want it over. I want to be rid of you. Can you blame me?” Peter peeked up at him.

Tony stared at the kid, his resolve crumbling. Everything Peter said was true. He was the one who had walked out. He was the one who had forced Peter to put a two hundred dollar dinner on his credit card, and then had the audacity to wire him money without so much as a “sorry” for it later. Maybe the least he could do this time was something to make leaving him easier for Peter. So Tony shrugged his shoulders. “What do you want me to do? Get on my knees and beg? I’m looking out for your future, Pete. One of us has to.”

Peter’s shoulders slumped and he hunched forward. “Okay. If that’s how you feel. Great. Then I am thinking of my future, Tony. And I can’t wait for it to be far away from you.” He dropped the badge at the older man’s feet, his hands holding the strap of his backpack in a white-knuckled grip. “Bye, Tony,” he muttered, and the elevator doors opened for him, as though FRIDAY had been listening all along. She probably was.

Tony stood there, impassive, as Peter got into the elevator. He didn’t move from the spot where he stood. Hell, he barely breathed. It was only once the doors shut and a ding announced Peter’s descent back to the main floor of the building that he looked down at his feet. He crouched, swiping up Peter’s badge. Tony stared at the boy’s grinning face, his cheeks rosy, eyes sparking with excitement from his first day at Stark Industries. Hours later, he’d run smack into Tony in the middle of the hall, spilling coffee all over the both of them. A trip to the bathroom later, and he was walking out flushed red for a different reason.

A sigh.

Tony got to his feet, carrying the badge and the shirt into his kitchen. He tossed them both on the center island, abandoning them there to be dealt with later (and preferably by Pepper, who would come by once she realized he hadn’t shown up Monday morning) so he could make his way instead to his liquor cabinet. Tony opened it, eyeing the various bottles. “Hello, dear,” he said, selecting a vintage that he thought he’d been saving for a special occasion.

It was as good an excuse as any.

#starker #starker fic #tony stark x peter parker #ironspider #tony x peter #spiderio #at least kind of but that's not the end goal of the ship even though it kinda is the end of the fic #this is just another reason for me to eventually add a chapter #tony stark #peter parker #quentin beck #pepper potts #tw:alcoholism #my fic