#but it wasn’t HIS fault he was better- so why should he pretend to be sorry for it?

[vodika-vibes]

Me again 😈 this is the last one (for now)

How about Howzer x reader with "sh, sh, I'm going to patch you up."?? I love Howzer so much and virtually no one writes for him </3

Playing Doctor

Summary: In an ideal world, being trapped in a cramped place with Howzer would be a dream come true. After all, you’ve been crushing on him for ages now. You just wish the situation was a little less sucky.

Pairing: Captain Howzer x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1200

Warnings: Reader is injured, pining, Howzer is jealous but pretends that he isn't

A/N: Sorry that this took so long! I couldn't get Howzer to agree with me. Until I put on a Disney playlist on Spotify and the words just started flowing. (Also, I have been in a not-great mental place since the 6th, but I think I'm better-ish now). I hope you like it!

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You’ve known Howzer for years now. 

You first met him at the beginning of the Clone Wars, all of those years ago. And, looking back now, you can admit that your first impression of him wasn’t the greatest. 

He was arrogant. Cocky, even. And in his opinion, you were a meddling busybody who needed to spend a day or two sitting in a jail cell.

You weren’t, and aren’t, a soldier. You were the former base commander’s receptionist, and when he left for greener pastures, you were left behind with a handful of soldiers and support staff who weren’t important enough to anyone to manage to pull a reassignment.

In truth, you kept the base running through duct tape and a prayer. And then Howzer came along and took it from you. 

It wasn’t until he realized that none of the NatBorn soldiers, or support staff, would listen to him, that they all deferred to you, that Howzer realized that he stepped on a few toes. 

And he didn’t apologize until your Squad of Misfits pulled him and his men out of an ambush that should have killed them, but only left him badly injured and with a scar on his face.

The rest, as they say, is history.

By the time the Jedi Purge happened, you and Howzer were friends. Friends enough that, when he called you to ask for help, you dropped everything and hurried to his side. 

That had been a year ago, and while you won’t ever say that you regret it, you do wish that you had been more clever about your career prospects.

Or, at least, more clever.

Surely, if you had gone to medical school like your mother wanted you wouldn’t be in this situation.

Right?

You release a pained whimper as Howzer presses his hands, firmly, over the wound in your side. You try to pull away from his painful touch, but the way he has you positioned against the wall of the cave you’re taking shelter in means that you can’t move.

“Howzer—”

“I know it hurts, ad’ika.” His voice is low, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen such a grim look on his face before. Well, not directed towards you, at least, “but I need to stop the bleeding.”

Hesitantly, because he’s been funny about you touching him lately, you wrap your hands around his wrists, “‘m sorry. I messed up.”

“It’s not your fault. Who knew that the Stormtroopers had people who could use fucking javelins. Where are we, the Middle Ages?” He sounds stressed and angry.

“Many Indigenous people use weapons like that,” You reply, “Like the Ewoks and the Tusken Raiders of Tatooine.”

Howzer releases a huffed laugh, “Why do you know that?”

“I saw a documentary about it before,” You admit.

“Yeah? When was this?” He applies more pressure and you whimper as the sudden pain knocks the air out of your lungs, and you see a muscle work in his jaw.

“When I was a kid,” You manage to say, “There used to be a show. Tula the Tooka. Tula would teach kids about different races and show how we’re all the same.”

“Fighting bigotry one little kid at a time?”

“Something like that.” You wince, “She also covered some basic language skills, like how to say hello, or I’m lost, in whatever language.”

“Sounds educational,” Howzer shifts his hand and glances at your side, and then he takes your hand and presses it over the wound, “Apply pressure while I pull out my kit.”

“You could always just leave me here,” You offer.

“Don’t be fucking stupid, I’m not leaving you behind.” Howzer replies as he starts digging through the bag he’s been carrying, “You can’t actually think that I would do that.”

“I don’t.” You admit, “Make your life easier if you were less loyal, though.” You pause, “Idiot.” The word is affectionate, and the corner of Howzer’s lips curl up into a small smile.

“Wonder what having an easy life would be like,” He jokes, before he turns back to you, “Alright, move your hand.” You do as he asks, though you don’t realize why he’s saying that until the sharp scent of alcohol reaches your nose.

You yelp and jerk back when an alcohol-soaked cloth presses against your side. Though, you don’t get far.

“Shh, shh,” he effortlessly tugs you closer, so he can keep the cloth pressed against your side, “I’m going to patch you up.”

“You couldn’t have given me some warning?” You choke out.

“Sorry, ad’ika. But you’re kind of a baby when it comes to pain.”

You stare up at him through tear-filled eyes, “And you thought this would help? You’re a jerk. Rex would never—” You yelp again when his touch gets rough enough that it hurts.

The painful pressure vanishes almost immediately, “Sorry, I’m sorry! I forget that you’re so much more fragile than me.” Howzer blurts as he uses the sleeve of his jacket to wipe a tear from your cheek, “Please don’t cry.”

“I-it’s okay, you didn’t mean it.”

Howzer sighs, “It’s not okay, but thank you.” He pulls some bandages from his bag, “I bet Rex would never forget that.” There’s something odd in his voice, and you realize, with a start, that he’s jealous. 

“Howzer?”

“Hm?”

“Are you jealous of Rex?”

He fumbles with the wrapper of the bandage, and his dark eyes flicker up to meet your gaze, before dropping back to your side, “Course not.”

You stare at the top of his head for a moment, and then you sigh and reach up to run your fingers through his hair, “You know you’re my favorite, right?”

“Are you allowed to have favorites?” Howzer asks as he applies the bandage and tapes it to your skin.

“I think you’ll find that I don’t care about what’s allowed,” You counter, “You’re my favorite, and I’m glad that I ended up stranded here with you over anyone else.”

He finally meets your gaze, “You hate being stranded anywhere.” Howzer corrects with a wry smile.

“See, no one else knows me like you do.”

“Well, I have known you for years now,”

Your hand falls from his hair to rest against his cheek, just over his scar. There are so many things you want to tell him. So many thoughts you want to share. 

Things that he deserves to know.

But the words seem to stick in your throat.

After all, there’s no way he feels the same way for you as you do for him.

So, instead, you offer a tiny smile, “I’m guessing you have a plan.”

Howzer turns his head and presses a light kiss to the palm of your hand, “Always do.” He pulls away from you, “Are you okay waiting here for me?”

“Just don’t forget about me.”

“Never.” He stands and peels off his jacket, “Here, use this as a pillow and get some rest. I’ll be back when I’m done.”

You take his jacket and fold it so you can lay down, “Be careful,” Howzer tosses you a wink, and then he’s gone. 

And, now alone, you release a quiet sigh. “I love you, Howzer.”

@imabeautifulbutterfly

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@rebell-ious

[smallsinger5901]

imagine how Mello felt after being the best at Wammy’s for years, the best contender to succeed L, one of the only people there to have ever MET L in person. He knew what he was going to be with his future, his whole LIFE! Then Near turns up. And suddenly this random younger kid is beating him effortlessly, putting in none of the work and dedication that he did, and this person has none of Mello’s flaws, none of his emotions or impulsivity or anything else he was criticised for. All at once the place he was king of was oppressive and cold. He was just another random, nameless Wammy’s kid.

His whole LIFE had been taken from him. Then L dies and he’s told to ‘just get along’ with the person that robbed him unflinchingly of his life’s goal? i understand why he left.

[mostly-imagines]

Guard Dog vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka don’t fuck with jason’s gf pt. II

3 in 1 blurbs

warnings: mild standard gotham violence, in the 3rd section: attempted sexual assault and panicky thoughts afterwards from reader

“Sweetheart, this is…not good.”

You turn your head over to him, where he’s frowning, hands on his hips as he inspects your bedroom window.

You tilt your head, looking it over from your place on the couch. “What’s wrong with it?”

He sighs, “Well for one, the lock is broken. But even if it weren’t, this thing would be so easy to break.”

“It’s the lock the place came with.” You shrug. At least it has a lock. In Gotham that’s kind of asking a lot.

“Yeah, I can tell.” He frowns at the window once again, moving over to stand behind the couch. “I’m getting you better locks.” He looks to you, “I can install them tomorrow?”

You tilt your head up to look at him, “You don’t need to get me new locks, Jay…”

“Okay.” He kisses your head, “I’m getting them.”

You sigh in defeat, though your smile makes it lose its credibility. “Tomorrow’s fine. I assume you’re staying the night, then?”

He makes his way to the kitchen as he says, “Well, I’m not leaving you alone here with this piece of shit the only thing between you and Gotham.”

“I’ve lived here for two years.” You say flatly.

“Don’t remind me.” He mumbles as he moves behind the counter. “Actually, your door chain’s broken too, isn’t it?” It is, but that’s his own fault.

You had a long day a couple weeks ago and had a very long, very hot shower the second you got home. Unfortunately, it had slipped your mind to text him that you were home safe and he’d broken through the chain in one try to make sure you were okay.

You hum, “It wasn’t doing much anyways.” Clearly.

He grimaces as he heats up the stove for dinner.

You laugh lightly, “What?”

He looks back at you with a frankly adorable frown, “I don’t like that.”

You’d never thought much of it. You hadn’t had any—well, many—problems living here before, and you still had your deadbolt and handle lock.

“It’s okay. I’m safe here.”

He looks like he strongly disagrees. He comes back over, sitting next to you, taking your face in his hands. “Will you please let me set up some security measures around here?”

“Did Jason Todd just say please?” You say in faux-shock.

He rolls his eyes at you, “I’m serious.”

You sigh, contemplatively. “I don’t want my apartment looking like the Home Alone set.”

He laughs at that, “It’s not going to. You won’t even notice most of them. Just do it for me, please?”

“I’ll agree, but only because I know you’re going to do it anyways and I’d like to pretend I have control over this.” That’s not true, you’d agree to literally anything if he said please that sweetly again, but that’s your business.

“Fair enough.” He smiles, kissing your cheek.

No, it’s not fair at all.

It’s late. You’re not even sure how late but the city has calmed from its usual noises, indicating that your boyfriend will be home soon.

You’re coming up heavy on cramps tonight and according to the mockingly empty spot in your medicine cabinet, you’re out of ibuprofen. Yeah, it’s late, but the store on the corner is a three minute walk and fuck your stomach hurts. Jason wouldn’t like it if you went out without telling him though, so maybe you should wait until—

The sound of the living room window sliding open breaks you away from your thoughts, followed by a clatter of something hitting the ground.

You walk back into the dimly lit room, finding your boyfriend sliding the window shut again, holsters abandoned on the ground. He turns and collapses onto the couch face first, body immediately gone limp.

“Hey, baby.” You bite back a laugh, coming over to rub his muscled back from behind the couch. He groans into the cushion in response. “Why don’t you go get in bed?”

He hums almost imperceptibly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes roughly with his palms.

He stands and takes your hand in his as he passes by, tugging you towards the bedroom. The deep ache in your abdomen reminds you of your earlier train of thought. You pull your hand back, stopping in your tracks.

He turns back to you with a frown, wanting to know what could possibly be getting in his way of falling asleep, holding you close.

“I gotta go pick up some ibuprofen. I’ll be right back.” You say quietly, not wanting to disturb the quietness of the night for him. His frown deepens as you head towards the door, watching you.

You’ve got your purse in hand and are reaching for the handle when you hear his footsteps following in suit. “Hey, it’s okay. Stay here, I’m just going to the 24 hour store on the corner.”

He shakes his head, “You’re not going out in Gotham alone at two in the morning. Put your coat on, it’s cold.”

You do as you’re told, shrugging the coat on as you glance over at him. “Jason, it’s okay. You’re exhausted, go to sleep.”

He ignores you, throwing a sweatshirt on to cover up his armor, and follows you out the door; albeit far more sluggish than usual.

He was right though, the night air is bitter and slaps your face with every step forward you take. He lingers a few steps behind you, honest to god almost falling asleep mid step a couple times.

Frankly, you’re not even sure what kind of fight he’d be able to put up in this state. Though, he’s surprised you plenty of times before. In any case, his head snaps up every time there’s any sign of movement around, instantly on alert.

He trails behind you as you browse through the narrow aisles, hands stuffed in his sweatshirt.

As you’re standing at the store counter paying, his neck is craned forward, resting on your shoulder. You rub soothing circles into his hand with your thumb, though you’re sure it’s not doing anything to help his exhaustion.

You’re walking back home, the bite of the air a bit more forgiving in this direction. There’s another man walking down the sidewalk approaching, hands in pocket.

Jason’s too tired to bother with subtlety, glaring directly at the passerby before he could even think of trying anything. And it works, because the guy averts his gaze real quick and speeds up past you.

He continues working at his post from just behind you all the way until you’re back inside your apartment.

He takes the medicine container out of his pocket and cracks it open for you, wordlessly filling up a glass of water after. You gulp down a couple of the pills, and he takes the glass and bottle out of your hand the second you’re done, setting them on the counter.

He turns to you, eyes barely open, mumbling, “Can we sleep now?”

You smile at his fatigued state and take his hand, leading him to the bedroom.

Your neighbor likes you. You know it, Jason knows it.

The worst he’d done was flirt with you, badly, and shut his mouth real quick whenever your boyfriend emerged from your apartment.

And Jason let that go; he knows better than anybody that you’re heavenly and sweet and clever, of course this fucking guy likes you. Jason set an unspoken rule with himself, that he won’t get violent with any guys unless they put their hands on you. Something he knows for absolute fact your neighbor has not done.

At least he hadn’t until a couple of hours ago. You’d been in the hallway at the mailslots, your boyfriend nowhere in sight, when he decided it was the perfect time to make a move. Make several moves, actually.

You’re sitting on the couch, knees to chest, still trying to wrap your mind wround what had happened when Jason sees you. You stopped crying a while ago and you’ve entered the phase of…well. That happened.

Your hear keys jingling outside the door, followed by your boyfriend's entrance. He’s carrying some grocery bags and has a book tucked under his chin.

He lets the bags slide off his arms, and sets the book on the counter with them, beaming, “You’re never gonna guess what b—“ His smile drops when he sees you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, “Nothing.” But your blinking feels off all of a sudden, and you can’t remember what you usually do with your face when you’re not lying. It doesn’t matter though, you could be an academy award winning actress and you’re still sure Jason would be able to see right through you with a single glance.

He frowns, “Don’t lie to me.” He moves towards you, kneeling down in front of you. “Please. What’s wrong?” His eyes are worried now, more than usual.

You don’t want him to worry about this. He already worries about you too much and he’s got all his vigilante stuff and…you just want to believe that this is a manageable situation and not a problem. Not something that affected you.

“It’s just…it’s not a big deal, okay? I can handle it—”

His posture stiffens and his voice suddenly goes low and serious, “What happened?”

You know where this is going. “Jason. Promise me you won’t do anything.”

His brow furrows, and his frown turns to something closer to anger. “Did someone put their hands on you? Who?”

“Jason—”

“Who did it?”

“The neighbor, b—” he immediately snaps to a stand and starts towards the door. You hurry to grab onto his hand before he can escape your proximity, “Jason. Please don’t.”

The break in your voice is enough to make his rage falter and turn back around to face you.

“Baby, if he touched you—” His eyes are pleading, begging you to let him go take care of this. If not for you, then for him.

“It wasn’t—he didn’t do anything. He didn’t get to. I hit him and he backed off.” Which is…sort of true.

He stares at you. “In the hallway?”

You blink. “…Yeah?”

He takes off towards the bedroom wordlessly. You follow quickly on his tail, watching him sit on the edge of your bed, opening his computer and clicking through it quickly.

You slide over next to him, and see that he's pulling up a file under the name of your building and today’s date. It takes you two seconds too long to realize what he’s doing, the thought only sinking in right as you see the hallway security camera footage on the screen.

“Jason—” you try to close the computer but he bats your hand away.

He forwards through the footage, as you scramble trying and failing to reach past him, various building occupants coming in and out of frame rapidly.

“—please just listen to me.” But he did listen to you, and he heard that someone tried to hurt you. That was all he needed to hear.

He stops when he sees you enter the frame, watching closely. He sees you flipping through the mail. He sees your neighbor slither out of his apartment and stand far too close to you. You take a step back only to be met with two steps forward by him. He says something to you, probably asking where your boyfriend is.

The angle doesn’t show his face, but it does see yours, and you look incredibly uncomfortable. You don’t answer him, which evidently was enough of an answer in itself.

Your neighbor tries to brush some of your hair out of your face but you snap your head away, stumbling back a little. He uses your lack of balance as an “excuse” to grab onto your waist, pulling you close to him.

Your hands are out in front of you and you’re shaking your head as he pushes towards you. His lips land on your neck and you try to move backwards, but he grabs your wrists and holds you in place.

You fight against his grip, and upon realizing that your struggling doesn’t matter to him at all, you dig your nails into his wrists so hard you draw blood. He groans in pain and his grip on you loosens.

You snap your hands away and push yourself away, locking yourself in your apartment. Your neighbor lingers for a moment, shouting something at the door before trudging back into his apartment and slamming the door.

Jason snaps the laptop shut, coming to a stand once again. His fists clinch at his sides. “That was not nothing.”

No, it wasn’t. But you feel so helpless right now. You sure as hell felt it in the hallway, and it keeps lingering in you and you’re not sure why. You couldn’t do anything then, you can’t do anything now…it feels like all the bad things in the world are closing in on you and you just have to let it happen.

“I…I don’t want anyone to die because of me…” your words aren’t quite matching your thoughts, but this is the closest you can get right now.

He pulls back to look at you, brows furrowed. “It’s—it’s not because of you. It’s because of him. Baby, if I were on patrol and saw him grab some other girl like that I’d do the same thing.”

You know that. You know that. But communication seems impossible right now even though it’s the only tool you have to stop things from closing in.

“No, I know that. I know…it’s just…” Things are closing in anyways. Alright, this is happening now. Your eyes start watering and your voice trembles.

“Fuck, baby.” His hand flies to the back of your head, other arm wrapping around your middle, pulling you to him.

You feel a bit silly, crying over the potential death of someone who tried to hurt you, in front of the Red Hood of all people.

“I’m sorry, I—I don’t know. It’s—it’s too many bad things. I can’t…”

“Okay. Okay. It’s okay. I’ll stay here. I’m staying here with you, okay?” You nod into his chest, tears dampening his shirt.

This is a temporary solution, you know that even now. But you think once it expires, it might be easier to accept whatever Jason’s going to do later.

He’s quiet for a few minutes, holding you in his arms as you sway back and forth lightly.

“Will you forgive me if I kill him?” He whispers into your hair.

You roll your eyes but smile nonetheless. “Don’t.”

“Is that a yes?”

You pull back to look him in the eyes, face setting. “I’m getting the feeling you’re going to do something regardless of how this conversation ends.” He says nothing. “Just, please, don’t kill him.”

He holds you tighter and you do the same, laying your head against his chest again. You feel him press a kiss to your head as he takes a deep breath.

You think on it for a moment, figuring it needs saying, “And don’t get in trouble.”

Your neighbor comes home late that night, trudging through the front door with a perpetual frown. He opens the door to his notably unlocked apartment. He drops his bag on the ground with a thump and flicks on the lamp next to the door. He shuts the door and turns the lock when the red elephant in the room pipes up.

“Hey, bud.”

He jumps, spinning around, “Who the fuck—oh, shit.” He freezes the second he sees him, sitting in the armchair across the room. The Red Hood nods, loading the gun in his hand.

Your neighbor stutters, “What—what are you doing here?”

He looks up at him, cocking the gun. “You put your hands on your neighbor, yeah?”

He looks fake-shocked at the accusation. “What? No, I would ne—which neighbor?”

He can’t see it, but Hood’s face drops into a deadpan. “That is really not helping your case.”

Your neighbor eyes the gun nervously.

Hood sighs, “I’m not going to kill you. I’ve been told it’s bad manners to execute someone the first time you meet.” He glances down the nail marks on his arm and steels his jaw. “No. What’s going to happen is you’re going to break your lease and move out. Within the next week.”

The neighbors eyes widen, “A week? Are you insane?”

Hood tilts his head a bit before shaking it, “Nah, you’re right. By tomorrow night.”

“This is my apartment. I live here, I’m not going anywhere. And unless you’re secretly Saul the landlord under there, you can’t do anything about it.” He crosses his arms, clearly feeling very proud of himself. Well, killing him isn’t the only option, is it?

Hood stands, making his way across the room casually. “Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” He clocks him hard on the head with the frame of his gun. He goes down quickly and loudly, clutching his head, groaning. “The alternative is getting beaten half to death and hoping whatever hospital you end up at knows what they’re doing.”

Honestly, neighbor boy is pressing his luck as is. Maybe it was a bad idea for Jason to bring the gun.

“Fuck! Fine! I’ll go!” He wails.

Hood kicks his abdomen with the side of his boot, though not nearly as hard as he wanted to. “Shut up. You’ll disturb the neighbors.”

The neighbor groans again, quieter. He mumbles something about Hood being crazy but it gets lost under the grunts of pain.

Hood crouches down next to him, patting him on the head with the barrel of his gun. “Don’t worry, bud. I’ll check up on you. And if I ever see you so much as look in the general direction of another girl I’ll put a bullet in your head. Sound good?”

Your former neighbor drops his head to the ground, hand still clutching the growing swell on his forehead.

[cressidagrey]

Unafraid - The Unexpected Series

Summary:

“If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.”

What if… Azriel actually takes Rhys at his word? And does exactly what his High Lord ordered? With unexpected consequences.

This is Azriel following his High Lord's order to the fucking letter (well, kinda.)

Warnings:

Mention of Sex Work, Mention of Faerie Genocide, Sex Work, Bathing

Note:

This was a thought experiment that kinda started to grow a life on its own.

(super pretty divider by @saradika-graphics)

Azriel was having a bad day. 

In a string of bad days. A string of horrible days. 

He knew that he wasn’t in the right headspace for this. He knew that he had no business to be here. 

And still, he was. 

It was the only place where even a monster like him could get something that resembled love, after all. 

It wasn’t like anybody else wanted him. Wasn’t like anybody else was interested in him in any other way than…It wasn’t like he deserved better than this. 

This was all he deserved and he should just accept it. Accept it and move on and figure out that whenever he had any sort of physical wants…this was where he should go. 

“If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.”

So there he was. Walking down the street to this pleasure hall and…every step was trudging. He wasn’t even sure why he was doing it. Why… Why he didn’t just go home…go to the House of Wind and try to sleep once more…why he didn’t just…

Because he didn’t want to lay down in his empty bed, alone, and close his eyes, and be alone and…

He wished for somebody to touch him like…like he mattered. Like his feelings mattered. Like his feelings were something other than simply an inconvenience for the Court. 

He was just supposed to flip the switch and turn them off, right? Elain had chosen Lucien so Azriel should just get over her. He should just move on. And be done. 

And he couldn’t. He couldn’t. 

He wished he could, but he couldn’t. 

And so there he was. 

He poured a handful of gold coins on the desk in the front…enough for a whole night. Even if he just stayed an hour, he thought that one of the long-suffering females deserved it for putting up with him. 

For letting him put his ruined hands anywhere near her and pretend that she wanted this. 

Why was he even doing this again? 

Azriel didn’t even know himself anymore. 

Still, he followed behind the voluptuous proprietress, a red-headed High Fae named Marge, into the courtyard, filled with all the females that worked there. “Are you searching for anything in particular or…?” she trailed off, asking Azriel as she mustered him. 

Searching for his will to live. Though that was probably not the answer she was looking for. 

And no, there was no particular sexual act that he wanted, that he was in the mood for. Absolutely nothing that…immediately struck his fancy. 

Nothing that…He didn’t even really want sex. 

He wanted…

“Any female that’s not afraid of me,” he forced out, his voice like gravel. Companionship. Understanding. Something as close to willing as he could get. 

Marge’s dark eyes widened as she took in that particular request. He half expected her to laugh him out of her establishment. If she did, he couldn’t even fault her for that. The coin was worth a try. 

And then, to the wordless shock of him…“I’ll take him,” came a quiet voice. His head swivelled around, just as a soft, small hand claimed his. 

Blonde, blue-eyed. Beautiful. Gorgeous in fact. Full lips pulled into a bright smile. 

“Would you like to come with me, Sweetheart?” she cooed and he managed a shaky nod. 

She didn’t even seem to notice the scars that covered his hands. She didn’t seem to care. Everybody noticed. Everybody cared. 

But she just…didn’t. 

And her smell…it was clear of fear. Utterly unafraid. 

Roses. Nothing else. 

“You aren’t afraid,” he choked out as he followed behind her, up the stairs, to a room, that was clearly hers. Soft and cream coloured with heavy drapes and she closed the door behind them with a soft snick. 

“Should I be?” she asked him lightly. “You have given me no reason to be afraid of you.”

No. He just existed. Existed with scarred hands and ferocious wings and the shadows that he had sent away for the night and still lurked around…he scared everybody.

“You have done nothing to me that would make me fear you,” she told him calmly, walking over to a commode, filling a glass with the amber liquid from a bottle on top of it and then bringing it to him. 

“You may call me Blossom,” she told him. Smart. Not that it was her name…but that he may call her that. “What is your name?”

“Azriel,” he answered. For some cauldron-forsaken reason, he gave her his real name, just as she pushed the glass in his hand and him down onto the edge of her bed so that she could straddle him. 

He let her do with him as she wished. 

Something about Blossom…something about her made her putty in her hands. Whatever she wanted from him he would probably do it…let himself sink into the pleasure of just this…just the smell of roses and her eyes gently watching him…just this. 

“Now, there is a secret you should know about me,” Blossom told him, her voice sweet and soft. He just stared at her, as she shrugged out of the silky dressing gown she wore, leaving her utterly bare to his gaze. 

There was no piece of her that wasn’t beautiful. From the upturned tip of her nose to the full swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the lush fullness of her hips…

And then suddenly between one blink and the next…she changed.

Not her body. That stayed the same. 

An iridescent pair of pink wings sprouted from her back and stretched wide…her hair stopped being ordinarily blonde and turned blush pink…and her ocean blue eyes turned into a colour that he could spend hours describing and still fail horribly. 

She had been beautiful before. With that glamour. 

But without it…without it…she was breathtaking. So beautiful that she put him on his knees. He could just stare at her, drink her in, his mouth slightly open. 

“I have wings just like you,” she told him, a smile on her face and he swallowed. 

There was only one type of faerie that had wings like that…A very rare type. 

“You’re…a Floresco Faerie?” he asked her, his voice hoarse. 

Hunted to near extinction by the Spring Court centuries ago. 

And one had seemingly escaped to Velaris. 

Her full lips pulled into a smile. 

“Guilty as charged,” Blossom answered, lifting his hand that still kept a loose hold of that amber liquid to her lips and took a drink before she lifted it to his own lips. 

He took a sip, his eyes still fixed on these beautiful, fluttering wings. So rare. So beautiful. 

“Now, Azriel. Why don’t you tell me what you would like tonight and I’ll…” she trailed off as she saw his expression, mustering him for a moment. He would spend the rest of his life wondering what exactly she saw in his eyes that made her take the glass from him, put it on her bedside table and then suggest: “How about a bath?”

Somehow that was the best suggestion he had heard in decades. 

Her bathtub was right there, connected to her bedroom, a massive thing that was pure indulgence. Of course, it was. They were in a pleasure hall after all…

She stripped him out of his clothing slowly and then led him into that massive bathtub…the water blood hot and smelled like roses, with plenty of bubbles to go around.

He had never bothered with bubble baths before.

Clearly an oversight. 

Just as it was an oversight to have her small, soft hands all over him as she spread soap over his skin. 

She didn’t ask, didn’t give him an opportunity to turn her down. Blossom touched him gently with no hesitation. Not even thinking twice about it.

He could have wept with gratitude. Her scent never turned into fear. It stayed the soft scent of roses clinging to every inch of her. Not once did she hesitate to touch his skin, or his scars, or the dark illyrian markings over his arms and chest. 

Every muscle of his body grew lax in response, until he was a puddle underneath her touch, just watching her. 

Watching this beautiful female and her soft smile. 

Blossom washed his hair, fingernails gently scrubbing her scalp and he could have started purring.

Something inside him relaxed. He wasn’t even sure what. But just the feeling of another warm body next to him…of her touch to his body, without hesitation, without fear, without anything…simple touch…

He couldn’t even remember the last time he had that. 

Maybe Azriel should have expected it, but still, the moment her hand snaked down his stomach, lower, it took him by surprise. 

He caught her hand in his, hand shooting out to wrap around one fragile wrist like a snake. 

At least now, her scent should sour into fear. She just held still. 

“You don’t want me to touch you?” she asked him, one eyebrow raised. 

He really didn’t. Not like this. Not…

“Not like this,” he admitted weakly and her eyes widened. 

“Would you like to touch me?” she asked him, cocking her head to the side and he let go of her wrist. When she arched her back just like that, she made the best of every single one of her assets. 

And she was beautiful. But Azriel didn’t want that. Not truly. 

“No,” he said quietly. “Not like this.”  

He just wanted…

Something inside Blossom’s expression seemed to shift to understanding. She didn’t ask, she didn’t push…didn’t try to touch him like that anymore. Instead, her hands shifted to slow languid strokes…gently and…nearly reverently along his chest and arms. 

“Would you like a kiss instead?” She asked him softly, soft lips dusting over the shell of his ear. 

He hesitated. 

That was seemingly all the agreement she needed. Little butterfly kisses were pressed all over his face, against his temple and forehead and the tip of his nose and Azriel trembled underneath her at this. 

Kiss after Kiss, her sweet breath and the plush softness of her lips…they pressed to his skin without hesitation, without fear. Like he wasn’t a monster to fear. Like he was just a male in need of comfort. 

 It was more than he had ever thought he would be able to get that night. Or ever. 

Comfort that he didn’t think he deserved and still clung to like a drowning male, because this was all he could have…This was all he was allowed to have. 

He lost track of how long she did that…until the water turned cold and both their skin had shrivelled up…until she got him out of that water. 

The spell she had seemingly cast over him broke. 

This was all he was willing to take from her. All Azriel deserved. 

So he got redressed and Blossom watched him, infinite softness in her gaze. 

“You know…not a lot of males would pay the amount you do, just for this,” she told him carefully, as he had the doorknob in his hands. 

“Not a lot of females are willing to take me on,” he countered quietly, before he opened the door and disappeared through it. Forever. It would be nothing but a stolen interlude. 

Or would it? 

[nathaslosthershit]

Stupidly Charming (CL16) [AoM Part 2]

Part 1: Audacity of Man Summary: Charles was never anything but a compassionate and wonderfully loving boyfriend. You always used to brag about how attentive he was... I guess this is karma?

You had tried to distract yourself, not get angry or upset over the fact that Charles had most likely forgotten your anniversary.

It was still early in the day, he could surprise you, or make up for the fact he forgot.

But hours went by of radio silence from the Ferrari driver. You couldn’t really blame him, even if he remembered your anniversary, you knew he wouldn’t be able to drop everything at work to text or call you.

Still you had hoped for something. 

“Fuck him! What an idiotic asshole, especially after you made him breakfast.” Your friend said as you caught her up on the situation. “Get upset! Get angry! If the second he gets home he isn’t on his hands and knees begging for forgiveness, be the biggest bitch to him you have ever been.”

“That seems extreme…”

“Fuck extreme, fuck him! Get angry, fight, and then have the best makeup sex of your life.”

That you could do.

“Honey! Oh how I missed you” Charles said as he opened the door and saw you on the couch, pretending to read a book you had given up on actually paying attention to a while ago. You were still too upset.

You didn’t answer him. You even scoffed as he didn’t seem to recognize your silent treatment, just planting a kiss on your cheek and going to change.

What an asshole.

“Did you think about what you wanted for dinner?” He asked as he returned.

Again, silence.

“I was hoping to try out that new place that opened up down the street, heard it has amazing desserts.” 

Still nothing. 

“Baby? Did you hear me?”

…

“Are you okay?” He sat down next to you. A look of realization appeared on his face as he saw your frown. Finally, he was remembering. 

“Oh honey, I am sorry I had to leave today when I knew you wanted to hang out. I wanted to as well, you know I did. Hours in the simulator and all I could think about was coming home to my beautiful girlfriend, the person I am most excited to spend the rest of my life with.” Nevermind, he still didn't remember. But dammit as he hugged your waist and pulled your face towards him to plant kisses everywhere, you couldn’t fight off the laugh that left your mouth. He was stupid but he was charming. Stupidly charming. 

“There she is,” he said looking at the smile now on your face, much to your dismay. “How about I order from that new place, I’ll get all the things on the menu I know we’ll like so we can try them all.”

“Charles, that's an expensive amount of food for no reason.”

“No it isn’t, not when it is for you. You better get used to it, you are being spoiled for the rest of your life.” he walked away to order and you tried hard to remember why you were mad in the first place.

Right, your anniversary. But was it even fair to blame him? He was busy with work and while you wished he would prioritize you a little more, he always made sure to make up for it, to make you feel as loved as possible. 

You were halfway to forgiving him when he came back into the living room, an apologetic look across his face. “I have to jump on a call, could you go pick up the food, my love?” Nevermind, even when making up for being busy because of work, he was too busy because of work to make up for it. 

“Fine.” Was all you said as you got up, the frown back on your face as you grabbed your stuff and left, ignoring his calls and apologies behind you. 

If that hadn’t put you in a bad mood, then the whole ordeal around picking up the food did.

“I am so sorry, ma’am. It will only be a little longer, we weren’t expecting this much business so fast!” The lady behind the hostess stand said.

It wasn’t her fault of course, but it didn’t help your mood. Still you tried to keep it together as you waited 45 minutes to pick up food that should have been ready the moment you got there.

You even kept it together as you realized you had forgotten your keys to the apartment inside, so you had to call Charles to let you in. But after a few insistent knocks on the door, and a few missed calls, you finally broke down. Maybe it was dramatic, leaning on the door as you sat on the ground, crying, but fuck that. You were upset, and upset you were going to remain. Still, it took a few minutes for Charles to come to the door.

“Ah, I am so sorry love I was on the phone and didn't see your-” He was rambling excuses the second he opened the door but stopped when he saw you on the ground, a mess of tears and snot. “Honey, what is wrong? Oh my love I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you out here so long, and I didn’t know that the restaurant would be such a mess.” He kneeled in front of you as he wiped away your tears.

“It's not that-or not just that. It's everything Charles, this wasn’t how today was supposed to go-”

“I know, my love, I’m sorry I was-”

“No, you don’t understand. Charles, it's our anniversary, and I spent so long thinking of things we could do today to make it special, but nothing happened and it just got worse and worse till I couldn't hold it in anymore. I just- you didn’t even remember and everytime I tried to tell myself it was okay to be upset or angry, you would be so sweet that I couldn’t justify it-” You couldn’t even finish as sobs racked your body. 

Though, you paused when you heard Charles let out a low laugh. You looked up at him, but he wasn’t smiling or laughing at you, tears streaming down his face confirming as much. It was more of a pitiful laugh. 

“I knew this was a stupid plan. There were too many ways it could backfire.”

Before you could question what he meant, he picked up the food in one hand and reached for you with the other. You hesitated.

“Do you trust me?” he asked. Even though you were upset, you took his hand and stood up. Of course you trusted him. 

Your eyes widened as you saw the state of your apartment. Candles lit and spread around, balloons and streamers nicely framing your table that had been set up with a white table cloth, your nicest plates and glasses atop it, and a beautiful, large bouquet of flowers.

“I wanted to make tonight special. I had planned on making the entire day special, but when I had to leave I came up with a plan to make up for me being gone.” He looked at you, waiting for your reaction, he looked… embarrassed? “It was stupid, to pretend I forgot about our anniversary, I wasn’t going to but when I realized I hadn’t said anything, too caught up in the fact I was being taken away from you, I thought I would pretend so I could surprise you. I didn’t have a call, I just needed time to get this ready but after you left upset and then had to deal with all the problems at the restaurant, I began to panic, so much so that I didn’t hear your knocks and didn’t see you had called.” 

You started crying again, alarming Charles. “I know it was stupid, I shouldn’t have done it, I didn’t think it through I’m-” you kissed him, hard.

He was an idiot, such a fucking idiot, but he was yours, and for all of his bad moments, you knew he loved you so much. 

You two finally pulled away, that's when you realized he was shaking, a lot. 

“Charlie?”

“I- I had a whole speech. I worked on it for months. In the shower, in the car, during free practice last weekend it's all I could think of actually, that's why I got yelled at by my engineer.” he laughed, turning red at the memory. “I wanted to talk about how much I love you, how much I don’t deserve you, that I know it's so hard to have my job continually come in the way, but you will always be first, my love, even if it doesn’t feel like it. And I want to spend the rest of my life working to deserve you and your love. I want to spend forever making you feel just as happy as you make me.” Had tears not been blocking your vision, you'd have seen him reach for the box in his pocket.

But it wasn’t until he got down on one knee that you realized what he was doing. And before he could ask the question, you tackled him to the ground. 

The soft carpet luckily kept Charles’ head from hitting the ground hard. You didn’t care, he didn’t care, too busy giggling in between kisses as you both rolled on the ground. Once you two had calmed down and sat up, he slipped the ring onto your finger. “The ring is beautiful, Charlie, but this isn’t how I expected getting proposed to.” you teased as the two of you wiped tears away and tried to fix your messy hair from rolling around.

“It wasn’t how I thought I would propose, but if it ends in getting to spend the rest of my life with you, then I don’t care too much.”

So stupidly charming.

[xoxochb]

hello!! can I request percy x fem!reader with the song dress by Taylor? the Great War is also great if you’d prefer that!! Thanks, and congrats 💙💙 (daughter of hades reader)

— dress

warnings: heavy make out, pairing: percy jackson x daughter of hades a/n: yeah smutty fics are growing on me

there was one day at camp where campers were allowed to wear whatever they wanted. some campers chose to wear their usual camp attire, some chose pajamas, and some chose casual clothes. you however— chose a little black dress. stuffed away in the bottom of your dresser you pull it out. it had a low neckline and ruffles at the bottom. it went down to a little above your mid thighs so yes, it was a bit revealing but it was black and it was comfortable so you wore it anyways. you exited cabin thirteen after changing and made your way to the dining pavilion for breakfast. you pretend to miss the way you watch percy’s eyes scanning your frame from his lonely seat at the poseidon table. mostly because he was your best friend and nothing more. but seemingly his gaze wasn’t screaming ‘best friends’

you sit down at your table with nico who brought will to sit with him this morning. the boys exchange a look, your brows furrow in response

“what?” you ask, confused

“Is there something you’re not telling us?” asks nico

“I’m sorry?”

“did you see the way percy was eyeing you?” will adds

“I’m not a fucking mind reader. I want words”

“are you and him a thing?”

you groan. “me and percy are best friends. that’s it”

“then tell me why he’s eye-fucking you right now” nico points behind you to what you assume is the poseidon table

“he’s not. like I said— we’re only best friends”

the boys both return to their breakfast. “suit yourself”

you huff and leave the dining pavilion. you don’t know exactly where to but you just know you can’t sit at your table anymore. with your brother and his boyfriend accusing you of sleeping with percy and the son of poseidon himself allegedly ‘eye-fucking’ you there was no way you could sit there and eat regularly. at this point you regret choosing such an immodest dress

the rest of the day you avoided percy. It was better this way, he wouldn’t give you looks and you wouldn’t feel weird about your friendship. It’s a win-win. first you took a break by the lake and read your book for a bit, uninterrupted you were fine. then came lunch when you had to sit in the pavilion again. to your percy didn’t show. you tried not to let it get to you but you couldn’t help feeling like it was your fault. after lunch you went back to your cabin for a nap. when you woke the pit in your stomach hadn’t been closed yet. whatever was bothering you needed to leave, dinner was in minutes and if you didn’t show up this time, while percy isn’t there your brother— without a doubt would think something suspicious of it

you ignored your feelings and went anyways. again, percy wasn’t there

“nico do you know if percy ate lunch earlier?”

he shakes his head. “no. maybe you should bring him something to eat”

“I don’t know…”

“he likes you y’know? you might be in denial but I don’t miss the way he looks at you. especially this morning”

your cheeks flush red. “no. I’m just going to talk to him, sort things out. we’re only friends, I swear”

“(name), I love you, but you’re an idiot”

you roll your eyes. “thanks, neeks, you’re so kind”

“I try my best”

“I’m going to bring percy a plate. we’ll talk to tomorrow”

“don’t have too much fun over there”

“goodbye”

you hurriedly stand up and leave. firstly grabbing a plate from the kitchen, then heading to cabin three. your beating heart stops you from knocking, the gods only know what’s going to happen once you enter. your hand moves faster than your brain you suppose because by the time you know what’s happening the doors opening, revealing the son of poseidon on the opposite side

“percy, hey”

not awkward. you cannot make this awkward

“what’s up?”

“I- uhm, brought you a plate. you weren’t at dinner”

“oh!” he takes the plate from your grasp “thank you. do you want to come in?”

you try to ignore the way your cheeks heat up. nothing is going to happen

“yeah, sure”

you walk in after percy am close the door behind you. he sets the plate down on his bedside table and takes a seat, beckoning you to join him— and reluctantly you do just that. things got awkward. very awkward. especially with the intense eye contact you’re making. is this what all best friends do? sit in a dark cabin making the most sensual eye contact of their lives?

“percy” you whisper

“(name)”

“why do I have the feeling we’re not best friends anymore”

you hear his breath hitch and he inches closer to you. “because I don’t want you like a best friend”

“nico told me you were looking at me this morning. Is it true?”

“you’re wearing a little black dress. did you think I wasn’t?”

“we’re best friends, percy”

the tip of his fingers touch yours, which were settled on your lap. “we don’t have to be”

“we can’t” you shake your head and stand up “we can’t do this. we’re friends. I mean gods— I want you, I really do, but what if things don’t work out? our friendship is ruined?”

“you don’t think we’d work out? we’ve been friends for years, it’s surely worked this long”

you cross your arms over your chest with a sigh. percy stands up from his bed and takes one of your hands into his own, the other pushing a stray hair behind your head before resting on the side of your face

“percy” you whisper “are you sure about this?”

“yes, I am. like you wouldn’t believe”

fuck it. you throw your arms around his neck and crash your lips together. percy’s hands place on your hips and he pulls you closer into him in a needy manner. you pool out your emotions into every kiss. you’ve yearned for this, you really have. stupid percy and his stupid button up shirt— your fingers struggle to get any undone! but percy has it easy, he slides the straps of your dress down your shoulders and the rest lower. you pull back for a second but only so percy can lay back on the bed. you slide the rest of your dress off and then you join him on the bed, straddling his hips

thank the gods you decided to wear this dress today

[xtreme-shipper]

Just Don't Give Up

Azriel (ACOTAR) x FReader (Human)

WC: 1.5K (Oneshot)

Summary: When it all becomes too much to keep going, our favorite Shadowsinger shows up just in time.

Warnings: Mentions of (and attempt at) suicide, angsty, I think, canon divergent, not proofread, lol, hurt/comfort, English is not my first language. Let me know if I should add anything <3

N/A: Hi! This is my first ACOTAR fanfic, so constructive criticism is really appreciated :) It's been a while since I've written fanfiction, but recently, I've been obsessed with Az, so here we are.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The night sky was blinding in the best way possible. Another year had passed, and you could see from the distance how your friends were celebrating another Starfall, a drunken joy filling the air, their voices full of excitement. The preparations started early this year, and the night court went all the way in, with concerts throughout the city and free drinks for all its citizens. You could tell the party would go on until sunrise and wondered, not for the first time tonight, why weren’t you down there with them?

“Is everything alright?” Az had asked you earlier that day. You nodded, smiling brightly at him.

“Just had a long night.” He nodded, not fully convinced, but he didn’t push the subject, which you were grateful for. You didn’t need to ruin the mood because of your problems.

 Nightmares from under the mountain still plagued your sleep, making it almost impossible to get any rest, and it was starting to show. The things that you had to see while not being able to do anything haunted your every second.

You didn't expect to survive when you escaped from the human lands, but Rhys found you not long after you crossed the border. He wanted you to turn around, warning you that Prythian wasn’t safe, but the alternative—going back to town—was not an option; anything would be better than that, even certain death. So you stubbornly refused to, claiming you knew how to take care of yourself. The problem was that one of Amarantha’s minions watched the interaction and wanted you for its own entertainment, so Rhys had to pretend that he had taken a liking to you and wanted you as his pet.

Word got to Amarantha, and she wasn’t particularly happy with her plaything taking a liking to someone else, so she punished him while you watched, unable to do anything. Useless.

After that first time, Amarantha decided it was a fun idea to have his “beloved” pet watch the suffering she had caused. So, every time you did anything she deemed disrespectful (which was basically everything), a torture session would take place. You couldn’t help but think that if you had just stayed where you belonged, Rhys wouldn’t have suffered as much as he did. It was your fault, even when he insisted that it wasn’t.

Shaking your head, you try to get rid of the memories.

You turn your eyes to the stars, the same ones you prayed to every night. Always the same wish without any answer from them and wonder, like you so often do, whether you should still be here.

The inner circle had never treated you as less or excluded you from anything. They were your support when no one else would lend a helping hand, and with the years, they became your family, yet even now, you still feel like an outsider. You weren’t Illyrian like Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel. Heck, you weren’t even Fae to begin with. You ended up being in the way most of the time.

You took your jacket off, letting the cold breeze hug your bare arms, where scars of silent battles painted them. A shiver ran down your spine as you stepped closer to the edge of the building.

In the human lands, your family never cared for you, and even when you left, no one mourned your “death”. Here in Velaris, you had people looking out for you, yet you felt like you didn’t quite fit in.

Would they notice? Would they care if you just… disappeared? Fae's lives were so endless that compared to them, humans’ existence must seem… insignificant.

Another step. You had slipped from the party when it all became too much. Your feet were moving on their own accord. Another shiver, another step. They would probably mourn for a while but then move on. You could stop the nightmares and the pain, and they could move on; Rhys wouldn’t have a living reminder of every time he was abused and had to endure the shame. Or when he was beaten, and you had to patch him up with your scarce medical knowledge.

Az and Cass could stop pretending that you didn’t cause their brother more suffering. That your recklessness didn’t make things worse. That they didn’t believe you weren’t brave enough to help him.

You are standing on the border of the building now, eyes fixed on the stars above, “Please,” you whispered. “Please.” You weren’t sure what you were asking for any more. Relieve from the pain, the guilt? Maybe you didn’t need an answer from the stars to fulfill that. You could hear the music all the way up here, a serene tune drowning the rest of the noise. You start walking on the edge, arms stretched wide to give yourself a bit more balance. One step, then another.

Letting go… should you… just one step…

A cold grip settles on your ankle and another on your wrist, pulling you carefully away from the border while a sad smile paints your lips.

You were used to Az’s shadows clinging to you from time to time, so you welcomed the touch but didn’t budge. You knew their master was standing a couple of steps behind you. “You know, you aren’t very sneaky for a spymaster.”

“I was looking for you.” His voice wasn’t more than a whisper. “I was worried since you left so early.”

“I’m fine” was all you said. A lie you had perfected over time.

He led out a humorless laugh. “You don’t seem fine.” You hear his steps, careful but loud, so you know he is getting closer. “Can you please step away, Sunshine?” You tense at the use of your nickname. So familiar by now, yet so unfitting.

“It’s fine, Az. I’m just admiring the night sky.” You can feel him right behind, you know. “It’s a beautiful sight.”

“Y/N… why are you here?” You knew he meant at the rooftop, but your mind couldn’t help going to a darker place.

You take a moment to answer, weighing your options. After a couple of silent minutes, you decide to be honest. “Did you know…” You pause for a second to try to stabilize your breathing. “That I was not only responsible for treating the High Lord's wounds? I was also tasked to inflict them.” You choke at your words, your throat feeling like it's closing, and it’s getting hard to breathe, but you push the words out anyway. “I am responsible for every scar that never fully healed, for every messed-up nightmare he has at night. I can still feel the way his muscles tensed every time I inflicted pain.” The world was spinning before your eyes, and the words were coming out in short breaths. You were gasping for air, struggling to get any inside your lungs, but still, the words wouldn’t stop coming out of your mouth.

“I’m the reason he suffered. If I hadn’t been there that day, or maybe if I had put up with my life at the… maybe he wouldn’t… he saw his… and I couldn’t… anything…” you close your eyes again. “How am I supposed to live here and accept all his help and love whe—”

A strong hand grabs you by your waist, interrupting your words and yanking you away from your doom. “It wasn’t your fault.” Az’s whisper came breathless, and his arms, though firmly hugging you, were shaking.

Tears were running down your face, staining his shirt. A protective wing wrapped around you, offering shelter. Giving you a protection you didn’t deserve. “I need the guilt to stop, Az. I’m a broken reminder of his pain, and selfishly, I can’t take it anymore.” You felt so tiny, so… shattered, fragments of yourself falling to the floor with every tear shed. He was silent for a moment, trying to hold you together while you crumbled.

Then his words reach your ears. “He once told me you remind him of his sister, you know?” One of his hands starts caressing your hair while the other firmly supports you against his body. “That your bad jokes to lighten the dreary mood and your constant presence were some of the things that kept him from giving up. That thanks to you, he was able to survive long enough to find his mate.” A loud sob shakes your entire body, hands fisting his shirt as you grab onto him for dear life. “Do you know why I call you ‘Sunshine’?” Az pauses, so you shake your head in response. “Rhys had been suffering long before you got there, and when he told us how you gave him hope, even when you yourself were silently breaking apart, how you would sing to him and brighten the mood with your warm voice, I knew. I knew you were like the sun he had been deprived of for so long. You saved my brother in the way that mattered the most. You were his light, and ever since you started living with us, you became my light, too.”

You were speechless at his words; raising your head from his chest, you looked into those beautiful hazel eyes and found nothing but tenderness. “You are my light, and I’m sorry it took so long for me to say it, Sunshine.” He places a kiss on your forehead. “I won’t say it will be easy, but I promise to be here with you. We will get through this. I promise, ok?” You nod as his grip tightens. “Just don’t give up, Sunshine.”

[onelittlespiral]

Tf where someone's huge musky cock keeps turning others into massive muscle bros on accident?

FML: Cursed

Up front, I’ll say this one’s a bit different. Let me know if you all like it. -❤️

Everything was too bright. My head was pounding. Memories were fading in and out from last night. Fuck, how much did I have to drink last night? I stumbled out of bed, trying to forced myself towards the bathroom to take a piss. I had made a New Year’s resolution to quit the bottle. Yeah, so much for that. I managed a quick piss and splashed some cold water on my face. That helped a bit. At this point all I wanted to do was bury my head back in my pillow. Slowly, I shuffled back towards my bed:

“Yeah? You coming back for more of this?”

A man. A man was in my bed. A hunk of a man was flexing in my bed. My mouth hung open for a moment as my brain chugged to life. I couldn’t quite believe it.

“…God damn it! Uggh, what did I let happen?”

“What, not in the mood? I can be quite,” he started a little pec dance, “persuasive.”

I was not in a mood to be amused by his flirting. “No, no it’s not you-or at least it is you now but-” I stammered, “Look. It’s complicated. Get up, please, I need you out of here. If you take some time to… cool off… it should pass.” I paused a moment, “I’m sorry.”

Quickly, I started pulling together what clothes I could find that would fit his new stature and tossed them at him. Even facing away from him I could tell he was a little taken aback. I’m sure in his current brain he couldn’t quite believe he was being rejected. But I knew it was better for everyone that he leave now. I scooped up his old clothing and threw it all into a tote. It wasn’t his fault he was here in this situation, getting kicked out of a stranger’s house early in the morning. Maybe that’s why I scribbled down my contact info and slipped it into the bag. He would have questions later, he deserved some answers. By now he had managed to put on the cut off tank and the shorts I had thrown him. The shorts were a size too small and left nothing to the imagination, but it would have to work. I doubted his canvas shoes would fit over those behemoths. He would have to go barefoot. After a few awkward pleasantries where he asked me if we should lift together some time and I politely declined, he finally got the message and slipped out the door. I locked it behind him and slumped to the floor. I still had a headache.

It was going to be a long day. At this point I was awake, so I just decided to hit the shower. The steam helped clear my mind so I could try to piece the night together. It had been two years now and it was still happening. I wish I knew how to stop it. But looking back, I’m not sure what else I could have done. Every time it happened though, every time I saw his face, I just replayed that day again in my mind:

We were sitting at our favorite cafe when I broke the news.

“What do you mean? You’re breaking up with me?” my ex boyfriend was stunned. Truly, I don’t think this had ever happened to him before.

“Please don’t act surprised. We both knew this was coming. We aren’t good for each other.”

“Baby, we aren’t good for each other,” he cooed, leaning over and cupping my jaw, “We’re great together. You can’t pretend to deny it. I can feel that cock twitch, hear every moan when you’re inside me. Come on, let’s go home and I’ll bring you to your knees.”

“No. This isn’t about us in bed. This is everything outside of it. I don’t like how you talk to me, how you treat me, how you touch me,” I said, slapping his hand from my face, “and how you treat everyone in the world as your plaything. I just can’t put up with it anymore.”

That finally set him off, “Oh, you have no idea what I can do.” He snapped his fingers.

I watched as a man in a suit next to us dropped his book. He began to convulse, and I watched in horror. He reverted from his fifties to his late twenties in a moment, smoothing his wrinkles as his hair turned from silver to brown. His skin tightened around his swelling body, as his muscles easily ripped through his shirt and pants. A deep moan escaped his mouth as his clothes reformed themselves into a tank top and gym shorts. As a snap-back hat formed and tightened around his head, I grimaced, knowing that his mind was being assaulted with a new identity. I knew the look on his face well as drool flowed from his open mouth. Then, all at once it stopped. He just picked up his book and kept reading. No one else even seemed to notice what had taken place.

It was a thinly veiled threat and we both knew it. “See? This is the shit I’m talking about. What happens to him now? He had nothing to do with this, you just can’t contain yourself.”

“Oh relax, he’s fine. I didn’t dumb him like I do to you. No one will ever remember anything different. Though I imagine whatever new hires at his firm will be confused why the new boss is a jacked gym bro while everyone else in the office is pushing 40 and wearing suits.” He chuckled at his own joke.

“I can’t! I can’t do this anymore. I don’t ever want to see you again.” I gathered my things to make my exit.

He came round the table, in a far less joking mood, “You’ll regret that,” he grabbed at my groin and cupped my package, “from now on, whenever that gets going, I have a feeling you will be seeing a lot of me” I felt a stirring in my sack. Something had… shifted?

“What did you do?” my shouting had finally drawn the attention of onlookers.

“Good luck, baby. You ever want that resolved, you’ll have to find me.” With that, he turned heel and left.

Now, two years later, he was right. I had seen far too much of him. The water had gone cold. I turned the faucets off and stepped out to dry myself off.

The first time had been a shock. I had given myself time to heal from the relationship, but about two months in I decided to head to a bar. Immediately something was off when I entered. I saw a few old flings, and a friend or two who were surprised to see me there. But it was like when I entered the whole place shifted towards me. Men were buying me drinks and fawning for my attention. The bartender even slipped a few comments in. They all looked smitten with me, trying to get just a little closer. By the end of the night I had some twink sitting in my lap. I decided it was time to blow off some steam. I took him to my place, where he immediately began tearing off my clothes inside the door. I managed to get him back to my bedroom before he had my boxers off. Immediately he buried his nose into my bush. Admittedly I hadn’t been keeping shaved since the breakup, and I guess that was doing it for him. He went to town on my cock. I wasn’t prepared for him to take it in one thrust, but he wasn’t waiting. All I could do was grab his hair and hold on as he worked my cock like a pro. I felt his hair curl beneath my fingers as I held on for the ride, moaning as he pushed all my buttons. He knew just when to pull back to keep me edging, his thick fingers holding on as he devoured my cock. Finally I knew I needed to fuck him. I pulled him off of my cock, but as he stood up and his dazed expression met mine I screamed.

“Fuck baby, where have you been all of my life?” he said.

He was the spitting image of my ex. The hair, the muscle, even that stupid nickname. In shock I pushed him away as he gave me a look of confusion.

“What are you doing here? I told you I never wanted to see you again.”

He looked back at me confused, “What are you talking about? We just met like a few hours ago. You invited me over. Sorry.”

Something about the statement rang true. I only realized later it was because he apologized. My ex would never. “Did he put you up to this? What’s your name?”

“Hey, I’m not sure who you’re talking about, okay? I’m Justin. I was just looking for a good time.”

“Have you seen yourself? You don’t look like the twink I met at the bar.” I retorted

He looked in the mirror, and his face seemed to puzzle for a sec. I knew that look. He was trying to reconcile memories he had. Fake memories. Then he smirked, “Yeah, pretty hot right? I’ve been working out, getting that more twunk look going.”

So he was clueless then. It was weird seeing someone look so much like him, and have a mix of his mannerisms and others. He had certainly made sure his cockiness was implemented. The asshole.

“Look, I’m not sure tonight is going to work out. I need you out of here. Now.” That was a little mean, it wasn’t his fault. But he had to go. I gave him some of my ex’s clothes he had left lying around and pushed him out the door without saying goodnight. It was only next week when I went to the bar that I saw him again. He had seemingly gone back to normal, besides a very distinctive mustache and stubble he was growing now. It didn’t fit his thin, hairless body and it made me chuckle…

*BZZZZZT*

My phone was getting a call from an unknown number. I guess it was time to answer some questions:

-Hey, I found this number in my bag. This the guy from last night?

*Sigh*

-Yeah, it’s me. Are you, uh, feeling better? More… yourself?

-So I’m not crazy! What was that? What happened?

-I am so so so sorry. It’s a long story. Let’s just say my ex is… a looot.

-Well hey, who’s isn’t?

I chuckled

-You’re taking this surprisingly well. Most guys don’t want to look at me after all this.

-So this has happened before?

-Yes. But I promise I didn’t mean to. I must have gotten too drunk last night, and I know that’s not a good excuse. But I’m not sure what to do about it and at this point I’d starting to think I never will

-Woah, woah. Calm down. Would you want someone to come over? To talk to?

I paused.

-No, I think I’ll be fine.

-Please, I want to. I want answers and it seems like you need someone.

-I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Plus, I don’t think I can see you like that.

-I promise. I don’t think I have anything the same.

-Promise?

-Here, look

He did look back to normal. And he was quite cute. I can see why drunk me decided to pick him…

-Still, I’m not sure…

-Nope, it’s decided. I know the address, I’ll be there later tonight around 6. *click*

What had just happened? I think, against all odds, I just got roped into a second date.

God damn it.

[dira333]

How to argue 101 - Tsukishima x Reader

for @liquidcatt for the Milestone Event Week 1

“A classic, really?” Blondie mocks his friend. “You just don’t have any taste.”

The dark-haired guy next to him scoffs. “I don’t have any taste? At least I don’t watch the Jurassic Park movies on repeat.”

“Might be good for you, you know. Better than whatever you’re doing with your free time.”

You scoff, more on instinct than anything else but it does the trick.

You really should stop listening in to the conversation on the tables around you, but it wouldn’t be a guilty pleasure without the slight feeling of guilt.

“What?” Blondie turns around to eye you through square glasses. They suit him surprisingly well.

“Nothing, nothing.” You wave him off. “Didn’t know Jurassic Park was such a sophisticated movie nowadays.” You wait just a heartbeat long to add slyly. “Wasn’t there a lot of stuff wrong with the Dinosaurs?”

“So?” Blondie argues back. And maybe it’s your worst character trait, but why is it so easy to rile people up anyway?

“So?” You parrot him. “Nothing, if you like killing your brain slowly. Everyone has their own vices.”

“Name one thing wrong with the movies.”

“The Dinosaurs,” you correct him, weirdly drawn into the way he holds his head now, trying to look down at you. He’s pale-ish, his white-blond hair reminding you of the moonlight in a way. But that would be too weird, right?

“I’m waiting.”

“Look,” you tell him with your sweetest smile. “I’m not an expert on Jurassic Park mistakes.”

Which is a lie. You love Jurassic Park. You know it’s faults too. But it’s fun making fun of it, isn’t it?

Blondie's eyes narrow at you. “You’re lying.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“You’re both boring,” the dark-haired guy interjects and you jerk your head over to glare at him. 

“No one asked you,” you scoff and watch Blondie swallow his laughter.

“Hey!”

“Kageyama, the peasants are talking,” Blondie cuts him off before turning to you with the laziest smile that has ever made your heart race. Curse him.

“You call me a peasant without knowing my name? Presumptuous.”

“And you pretend you don’t know anything about Jurassic Park while wearing Merch,” he points out, reaches one impossibly long arm over the gap between your tables and drags his finger over the stitching on your arm. Shit.

“Well,” you try to turn back to your laptop but his fingertip curls and snags into the fabric of your hoodie, not quite keeping you in place but not quite letting you go either.

“I’m Tsukishima by the way,” he mentions. “So… Jurassic Park movie failures?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t get me started on them.”

“Why not? I don’t have anything better to do anyway.”

“Rude,” Kageyama gets up. “I’m going to get more coffee while you two do whatever this is.”

“What are we doing?” You ask Tsukishima and he grins.

“I don’t know. I would call it flirting but I don’t think Kageyama ever heard of that.”

And you can’t argue with that. Well, you can. And you will.

[berrieluv]

ʚ 𖦹₊˚. remus lupin x fem!reader c.w. — andrew garfield/hunter doohan remus lupin. it's just fluff, remus is so in love i need him so bad. lowercase intended. sorry if something doesn't make sense, english is not my first language.

summary: remus did well in hiding his werewolfiness from you for years, now in your new situationship as girlfriend-boyfriend he can't stand lying and hiding things from his girl. of course you already knew, because you're curious and you tend to sneak into places you shouldn't.

ʚ 𖦹₊˚.ʚ 𖦹₊˚.ʚ 𖦹₊˚.ʚ 𖦹₊˚.ʚ 𖦹₊˚.ʚ 𖦹₊˚.

remus.

remus lupin was right. and it wasn’t like a surprising, astonishing moment. he was always right, you were just maybe hoping for him to not be when he told you, sometimes, staying away from some things would be better.

so you were there. running, tears in your eyes and your heart beating dangerously fast.

remus. remus. remus.

it was still remus, but your mind couldn’t be far from the image you just saw.

it’s not his fault. it’s not him. he told you to stay away.

but you’ve known him for years, and it never seemed as such big thing for you to indulge further but the first month into your relationship you thought it was going to change. he had no reason anymore to sneak around, why would you be with someone you don’t fully trust. why would you be with someone if you would still try to sneak with someone else.

you held your body as soon as you reached your bed, hiding under your covers and rolling uncomfortable, suddenly everything felt too much, the once soft sheets felt hard and rough.

you didn’t mean to see, you didn’t mean to know that.

when remus didn’t reach for you the whole weekend you weren’t wondering, for the first time after a full moon, where was remus lupin, and you didn’t try to reach for him either.

remus, on the other hand, reached for your soft skin next to his bed, he held sirius hand as if it was yours, thinking, hoping, for you to care enough to ignore his pleads of staying away and reaching for him.

“lils says she haven’t left the dorm… her dorm” james corrected. they all could see remus eyes’ being to fill up with sadness and disappointment. “wonders if she feels sick. haven’t talk to her or marl either”

remus prayed and hoped for his body to be well enough to chase you soon. to ask you what was wrong, to care for you like the good boyfriend he wanted to be. it wasn’t long into your relationship and he was already failing.

he wondered if you were asking yourself if he cared about you, because where was him.

and you knew you had to get out of there. to shower, to eat, to assist to classes but your bed was the safest place you could think of right now. having people around felt wrong and forcing you to talk to them hurt.

you woke up early that monday. lily followed you into the girls shared bathroom and watched you as you both slowly started your routines.

“if you want to talk…” she started, trying to find the right words. not pretending to sound intrusive “i’m here. we’re here”

you nod and said nothing, you looked at her through the mirror and smile and she does it back.

but what exactly did you wanted to talk about. it wasn’t for you to tell, and you didn’t exactly know were you were standing. were you mad at remus for not telling you or were you scared of him.

near breakfast hour you walked there alone. a bit late, the time consumed by the thoughts if you should actually go. remus ran to you the moment he saw you and you froze in your place.

what if he wanted to touch you, what if he wanted to kiss you, what if he wanted to hug you.

you couldn’t even bring yourself to talk. social confrontation seeming hard.

“morning, luv” he smiled at you and you tried to do so but it seemed broken “are you alright?” are we alright?

“yes…” you managed, sounding exhausted, your voice came out like all the air was being taken away from your body. “long time no see?”

he chuckles with a sad smile. three days. that’s the most he has spent without his girl. not without you, but now, as his girlfriend, it felt different.

“missed you” he said. sad, not because it was a lie, or because he thought you didn’t miss him. but because he wanted to be honest with you in every aspect of his life. “so, so, much. haven’t spent this much time far from you”

“yes, you have” you quickly point out. referring to the days you weren't a couple, when he would take longer to come back to you. ashamed of his new scars, scared of the fact that he saw himself as a monster and terrified you could start to see it. "this is not near the longest we have been apart at the end of a month"

remus smiles sadly at you, and when he tries to step forward and kiss you, you really, really, don't mean to take a step back but you do it anyways and he frowns, looking at you with open arms.

"wha-what's wrong?"

"nothing" you look around, everyone's eyes felt focused in the two of you, but an honest look would tell you that... no one cared.

you felt so trapped inside this problem, it felt like the biggest thing in the world but you were the only one feeling the same.

"sorry, sorry, rem. i'm just. i feel... it's too much" he frowns "i don't, please don't touch me. not now."

"sure, darling"

that's the saddest you've ever hear him. even in his first years, when he was just getting used to that. he would never sound that devastated while he was with you.

"you want to have some, some breakfast or is it too much too?"

you knew he was hurt, and maybe he didn't mean to sound so harsh or sarcastic or mean, and you had no right to feel hurt when you were the one hurting him.

"breakfast sounds good" you say and start walking, knowing he was behind you. and knowing exactly that, you choose to sit between marlene and some griffindor next to her, leaving no sit for remus, who watched you hurt.

lily looked at him and shrugged, you avoided her gaze and felt marlene arm in your shoulders.

"i guess i deserve it" remus said, sitting back in his place next to sirius, in front of peter. "i ghosted for three days. my girlfriend, my girl, and i just ignored her. for three whole days. a whole weekend. and lily said she was in bed. she was feeling unwell and i was just feeling pity for myself"

"no, moony" peter started. "don't do that to yourself. s'not your fault"

"yes, no, but. even if it wasn't, she has no way of knowing. she has no, she doesn't know"

"doesn't make it your fault" james interferes.

"i should've come up with an excuse at least" he still tries "not leave her like that, guys i'm..." remus hides his face in his hands and starts to murmur "i'm in a relationship now. a serious relationship. with the girl of my dreams. the girl i've been in love since i was fourteen years old, guys" he takes his hands off his face and emphasizes "fourteen years old. i have her now, i have her now and i love her. i love us"

"moony..." sirius is stopped by remus.

"it is my fault, right?" remus looks at his friends "it is my fault for thinking i deserved better. for thinking i deserved to be happy"

"you do deserve happiness, remus" peter says again "because you are a really wonderful person. you just have to learn to deal better with some things. and maybe be more honest with your girl" remus chuckles at how that sounds. it was the first time someone said it out loud. someone who wasn't him. "you will do good. you both. you're meant to be"

"thanks, petey" remus says, standing from the table when everyone else did, breakfast time over. "i have to talk to my girl" he smiled and as soon as he did, the rest of the marauders did too.

remus really thought this would be easier. but here he was, in front of you. marlene and lily were kind enough to wait in the common room so the both of you could talk.

usually, everything happens in his room. it's a safer place for him, he saw your things around, the mess in marlene's side, the tidiness on lily's and the mix of both in yours. he thought he would feel like an intruder but he felt calm. he could smell your essence and the things you liked make him feel somehow home.

"remus..." you start again. "what is it?"

remus opened his mouth and closed it again. not knowing how to start.

"i love you"

"what?"

"i love you" he repeated again "i love you so much and i know you're mad at me. i know you want me far right now but i love you, so, so much, and it's killing me to know i made you feel unhappy"

"what?"

"darling, i love you. you want me to repeat it again? i will. i swear. i'll tell you i love you every second of the day but please, please, don't be mad at me. don't, don't flinch when i try to get close to you. don't be scared of me"

"i'm not" you finally say "i'm not scared of you. i'm not mad at you, remus, i just need... time"

"time?" he asks, not wanting to believe you, because you wanted to be far from him and he wanted nothing more than to be with you as much as he could before the next full moon. "you want to be away from me?"

"remus..."

"no. no, i get it. i get it, i'm too much. i'm too much and yet i'm not good enough"

"i do love you too, remus" you say but he shook his head. because how could you say that when you wanted time away from him. "no?"

"don't be mean, darling. don't do that to me. don't say you love me if you don't want me near you"

"i just, i just don't know how to deal with the fact that you're lying to me!" he frowns "i just don't know how to treat you now knowing you're a, knowing you obviously don't want me to know that you're a werewolf".

"you know?" he's in shook. "darling, i..."

"i'm sorry, remmy" you start, tears meeting your eyes but you feel like you're not allowed to cry "i know you don't want me to know but i couldn't help it"

"what do you mean you don't know how to treat me?"

"i mean i, i could just, i could act as i always do around you but, now that i know, around the full moons, would you, is it alright if i take care of you? do you want me to?"

remus feels himself start to breathe again. because he truly thought the worst, and you just wanted to be near him, not in his best times but in his worst ways too.

"i... i thought you wanted to break up with me. i thought you saw me as a monster"

you start to shake your head "no, no remmy, not a monster. never. you're my remmy. i do, i did got scared thought"

"of me?"

"of you... being a werewolf. when i saw you, back then, and you were full wolf and you... i'm sorry, rem, but you looked hideous"

he chuckled "you want me for my looks, darling?"

"kind of..." you joke, walking closer to him, hugging his torso and hiding your face in his chest.

"meanie"

"sorry, remmy. but i have a reputation to keep on, you know"

"i know. you are the prettiest girl at hogwarts. you deserve nothing but the prettiest boy"

"lucky me i have him, right? well, except once a month but if you want the beauty you'll have to deal with the beast, right?"

"you have the best of both worlds" he says, kissing your hair "you're the best of my world. you're my life"

he thought it was something lame to say in just a month into the relationship. but he spent so much time in love with you, he waited for years to have this, he would not waste any more seconds without saying this.

"wouldn't it be cool if i turn into an animagus and i'm like, a wolf too?"

"the coolest, darling"

[jeonscatalyst]

Someone just told me that if a joker says things like…

“Jikook are in their own world”

“Jungkook pays attention to Jimin”

“Jungkook does whatever Jimin wants”

“Jungkook gives Jimin princess treatment”

“Jungkook doesn’t know what to do with himself when Jimin is not around”

“There is no platonic explanation for Jungkook having Jimin’s name on his chest”

….A taekooker is found kicking, screaming and popping veins somewhere. Their insecurities have gotten so loud that jokers cannot even make throw away statements or harmful jokes about Jikook anymore because what do you mean you are having a whole mental breakdown on your blogs because jokers say “jungkook treats jimin like a princess”? Whose fault is it that Jungkook gets back from a trip and cooks for Jimin? Whose fault is it that Jimin that when Jimin tells Jungkook he wants to do a travel show Jungkook accepts? Whose fault is it that Jungkook was walking around in a towel with a big “Jimin” written accross his chest? Whose fault is it that everyone noticed how different things were when Jimin was around Jk in AYS and when he wasn’t? You don’t see jokers going crazy when the cult says that Jk was snoring in Tae’s bed at 3am or when they claim that the Dream premiere (where Jk went back to his own house after and started a Live at 4am) was a taekook soft launch! 💀

Taekookers can say the most unhinged things like, Tae gave his wooga squad ring to Jk to wear on his pinky on his way to debut, or they can make up things in their heads and believe like claiming that Jk went straight to Tae after he got back from a trip (even though now we know for a fact that, that is true for Jikook) but jokers cannot even say cute and harmless things about jikook without the cult going screaminf their heads off? Lol.

Even now, they cannot handle everything AYS has shown them so they are lashing out and saying nasty things about Jimin and even Jk, while also claiming that Tae, Jimin and Jungkook lied about Tae inviting himself and that the staff asked him to join the show to make it more interesting or that Jimin begged him to join the show😂😂😂😂. These are things they do yet we are the jokers? How can Taehyung open his own mouth to tell you that he found out about a trip 2 days before it started from a groupchat and then said he wanted to join yet you sit on your blogs openly claiming otherwise? I mean what kind of madness is this?

Blatantly ignoring everything he said and making up your own reality just because you cannot deal with the truth is WILD!

This is why the cult will never be satisfied with anything because reality is never enough for them. Reality doesn’t validate their beliefs and that is why they change it every single time. They have to turn their own faves into liars to be able to sleep at night. Imagine going on everyday about how Taehyung is honest, and has integrity and doesn’t like to deceive people yet you are the first one to call him the biggest liar when his words don’t match your delulu. Taehyung says he invited himself to a show and you say he was casted by producers to make the show more interesting? How was him being ok his phone almost the entire time adding to make the show more interesting?

Just a friendly reminder to people who have succeeded in gaslighting themselves to believing that the boys live their entire lives as liars and actors… Your narratives and conspiracy theories do not change reality. They might work in your heads to help you feel better about a non existent romance but in the real world, the truth will always be the truth and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. Taekook fucking each other 10 ways from Sunday might exist in your minds but that doesn’t mean it exists in reality and if the only way you can make your ship make any lick of sense is by constantly branding them liars, actors and pretenders, then that is when you should know that you are chasing the wind.

[igotanidea]

Bonding: Damian Wayne x sister!reader

Request: from the prompt list : 4: "Didn't know you liked being pinned to the ground this much

Warning: nothing, it;s just fun and fluff, most likely set in the WFA universe.

***

„What happened to you two?” Dick could barely hold back the terror in his voice upon watching his younger siblings. Jason however was not so considerate and  straight forward started laughing at Y/N and Damian, the former with the nose swollen and red like a Rudolf and the latter with childish patches all over his forearms.

“Have you two escaped the circus? Sure as hell with such look you would fit there!” he let out a laugh so loud it captured the attention of no one else than Bruce, who became alerted in an instant. It wasn’t usual for Jason to be this happy and chuckling and it was …. suspicious. 

Similar to Dick’s, his face dropped upon seeing his kids in such damaged state and just sighed deeply.

“What did you do?” he rubbed his forehead, looking up to the sky probably wondering what mistake did he make (well, the question should have been – what mistake didn’t he make?). Never before had he looked so fatherly, like when Y/N and Damian started their mischief.

Y/N was the middle child, younger than Dick and Jason, but older than Tim and Damian, but Bruce could swear that sometimes she acted like a literal five year old. Especially when any of her brothers started messing up with her things. Especially when Damian did. No one could ever tell what atrocities she could resort to when he grabbed something that wasn’t his.

“It was all his fault!” Y/N cried out, her voice muffled by the swollen nose and she sounded more like a wounded animal rather than a human being.

“I am beyond your level, Y/N and cannot be blamed for…..”

“SIT!” Bruce growled in desperation, but neither of his kids listened. If anything they started bantering even more.

“Not many parental successes on your account, right Bruce?” Jason mocked, but the oldest Wayne didn’t bother answering. Instead he grabbed Damian by the collar and yanked him back and in the air so his feet started dangling above the ground. Luckily Y/N was too tall to do that to her as well.

“This is derogatory” Damian crossed his arms and pouted, the funniest look of her brother making Y/N laugh loudly “put me down, father so I can kick her ass again and….”

“Again?” Bruce eyes focused on his youngest son “what do you mean, again?”

“Nothing!” Y/N chimed in, desperate to keep some kind of secret

“Oh, are you ashamed to admit you got beaten by me in the combat, dear sister?”

“Shut up you little rascal!” Y/N threw herself at him, but this time it was Dick who grabbed her and hold her back

“What did he do?” Grayson asked, knowing well enough how much of a menace Damian could be

“NOTHING!” the boy struggled against his father’s grip

“Who’s afraid to admit what now?!” Y/N smirked at him.

“Ok, that’s it” clearly it was Jason who lost patience first “talk or I’ll draw blood.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” His sister threw him a daring gaze

“Wanna try me, sis? You already got a swollen nose and I can bet that this guy you like…..”

“SHUT UP JASON!”

“wait, there’s a guy?” Bruce was confused “who is he? Why didn’t I met him? How much does he know about us?”

“Not the time, Bruce!”

“LET ME GO DICK!!”

“Sorry, sunshine can’t really do that. Unless you tell us what happened.”

“fine!” she hissed “fine! I’ll tell you!”

An hour ago

“DAMIAN WAYNE!”  her voice echoed through the whole Wayne Manor and made the glassed windows shake. Honestly, how could no one in the family of vigilante hear that was beyond her. “you little piece of shit, where the hell are you!?”

“Have you called me sister?” Damian emerged from his room, looking nothing but innocent with the play-pretend smile. But Y/N knew better. She was fairly aware that he was skillful in using that Wayne gene trying to charm people. Too bad his eyes were glistening with mischief.

“You can’t play me, you demon.”

“Did something happened?” he titled his head in curiosity, observing his sister getting more and more angry. Oh, how entertaining it was to see her face get red, her fist clench. Fascinating how girl’s hormones worked.

But clearly, he underestimated Y/N. Yes, she was an emotional young woman surrounded by no less than four brothers, but she was also an adopted Wayne. And the realization of that fact made her calm down. Damian wanted her to get mad. Which meant he had some sort of plan.

“My little, sweet, wonderful, lovely brother.” She quickly changed the method of acting

“Huh?” Damian frowned, still not used to people acting nice towards him. This was…. unexpected. Y/N was clearly cunning and he had to be prepared.

“Tell me, did you happen to see my phone somewhere around?”

“No.” the answer was clearly too fast to be convincing.

“Really?” she smiled and looked over his shoulder inside his room. The perks of being taller and seeing more. “Then what is lying there on your desk?”

“That’s mine.”

“Damian…..” her voice became serious, her posture tensing “give it back to me. Now.”

“No.” he crossed arms, mimicking her position. Oh, they were both preparing for a fight, neither even beginning to consider the option of relenting. “does father know about your little crush?”

“YOU WERE READING MY TEXTS?!!?”

“Do you even realize in how much danger you put us because of your silly little….”

“AH!!” he did not get to finish the sentence when she went at him taking him by surprise. However, not enough of a surprise that he didn’t manage to step back. Instead of pining him to the ground she tripped and dashed into his room, immediately reaching towards the bed to grab her mobile, but Damian grabbed her arm and yanked her back.

“You little rascal!” she yelled, when they started a real Batman-style fight. “It’s mine!”

“it’s a violation of the rules!” he spat back “we’re not supposed to be in a relationship with civilians!”

“what would you know about relationships?!” Y/N blocked his punch, turning around and tripping him up. “you were raised by freaking assassins!”

“How bad we don’t get to choose family, right?” he hissed, falling on his back on the ground but immediately getting up and attacking her again.

Y/N was good, skilled and intuitive, but Damian was smaller and maybe a bit faster and that’s why she did not see it coming when he glanced off the mattress and landed on her back, trying to tackle her to the ground

“GET OFF ME!” she yelled trying to untangle his arms from her neck

“Not a chance!”

They were struggling so hard that at one point this fight moved towards the corridor and with just one wrong step they started falling down the stairs, still doing their best to damage one another. Damian was pulling at Y/N hair, while she covered his eyes in an attempt to blind him. It took a few minutes of weltering, grunting and dapping before they ended up at the base of the stairs.

“Auch…..” they both moaned in unison, their bones and bones already bruised and damaged. It really did hurt.

“HAHA! I won!” Damian yelled as he realized that the position in which they landed allowed him to sit on top of her sister, his weight holding her down.

“Get off me you idiot…..” she whined trying to push him away, but not succeeding at all.

“Didn't know you liked being pinned to the ground this much, Y/N” Damian laughed at her poor, week attempt to get rid of him.

“AH!” she cried out again and started waving her hands at him, Damian instantly started the same and now they were laying on the floor, with him still on top of her, acting like toddlers and emitting battle cries.

“MASTER DAMIAN! MISS Y/N!”

Shit.

Alfred.

The butler just sighed deeply, too used to many very strange views and behaviors around the manor. Too many to care and ask questions.

“Please get up from the floor. Miss Y/N, your nose is bleeding and as for you, Master Damian you got bloody scratches all over your arms.”

“Sorry Alfred.” They followed every word Alfred said to them and stood beside him with their heads hanging low.

“Let’s patch you two up.” Alfred motioned them towards the living room, gathering medical supplied on the way.

Now.

“And he gave you a animal shaped patch!” Jason laughed so hard he had to grab his belly, almost rolling of the couch

“Didn’t you hear a word, Jace? He took her phone! She had every right to be angry and act irrational…” Dick took his sister’s site

“Hm.” Bruce grunted

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but good job on being stealthy” Jason chucked towards Damian “normally it would be Tim to try and do such thing.”

“Are you taking his side now?” Y/N’s eyes went wide “I can’t believe….. ah!” sudden outburst made her nose bleed even more and she held the nearby cloth tighter to the bruised part of her face. “mhmmmhmhm” she mumbled grumpily

“Hm” Bruce grunted again

“Aren’t you gonna say something?” Dick turned towards his father in a bit of shock. Normally Bruce would be the one to punish them  both for disobeying the rules of the Manor but now he was just sitting on the couch, his mind wondering elsewhere.

“no.”

“What?!” four pair of surprised eyes landed on him in pure disbelief of how he acted.

“Wouldn’t make any difference. Another day another fight. Just…. apologize to each other. I’m going to the batcave. Dick, Jason come with me.”

“The hell I’m going to ….” Jason started but the look in Bruce eyes made him relent. And that was how Y/N and Damian ended up alone in the living room, sitting next to each other, eyes on the floor.

“Does it hurt much?” he asked

“Not much more than yesterday. I’ll be fine. “ she shrugged like nothing happened  “Do you think they know?”

“About what? Our secret plan to make them all crazy and take over the manor?”

“Pretty much, yes.”

“Not sure. Might need some more observation on the matter.”

“So….. we do it again tomorrow?” she smirked

“Oh, absolutely” he smiled back at her, eyes sparkling. It was always fun to fight with her.

“Then can I have my phone back?”

“Sure, I’ve seen all there was to see. “

“I hate you, Damian.” Y/N grinned looking at him

“I hate you too, sis.” He replied with a smirk

And just like that, they bumped their fists. All was good between them.

****

Meanwhile, Tim was hidden in the batcave, glued to the computer, not realizing anything of the events happening upstairs. He only raised his head once he heard Bruce, Dick and Jason entering.

“Did they do it again?” he asked seeing Bruce’s harrowed face, being enough of an answer “Ha! Life never gets boring with those two troublemakers around!”

[inmyheaddd]

meet me in the afterglow - averyjameson

a/n: this may be my fav averyjameson fic i’ve written 😕 wc: 1.7k warnings: swearing, our fav parents fighting 💔, angst but v fluffy ending i promise!! masterlist

avery sat in her room alone, reading a book to keep herself busy, but she wasn’t actually taking in a single word. 

she usually enjoyed the coldness of her room, but now it was just a bleak reminder that the one person who always radiated warmth and sent jolts through her with his touch wasn’t there with her.

and the worst part, was that it was her fault.

“what do you want me to do, heiress? act like i have it all figured out?” jameson’s voice grew louder, “well i don’t, i can’t just—”

“—just what?” she shot back, “jameson, i never asked you to act or pretend. i don’t need perfect, i don’t even want it. i need real.” her volume began to match his, even though she hated fighting with all her being. 

the moments from last night played on repeat in her mind like a broken record player she couldn’t stop. she chewed on her bottom lip, and before she knew it, her eyes began to sting. 

she wondered what jameson was doing now —drinking? driving at speeds far too high? blacked out? with his brothers? feeling nothing? feeling everything? whatever, she didn’t care. she didn’t care. 

“i need you to stop acting like nothing matters every time things get hard!”

“oh, so staying silent how you do is any better? fuck, avery, i hate to break it to you, but this is the “real” me. as real as it fucking gets.” he said through a force chuckle, letting go of the nickname and using her name instead. “if thats too much for you, or— or, or not enough for you, maybe you should just walk away.“ 

without realizing, another tear fell onto the page on her book, and it was like the boiling point for her. 

slamming the book shut and chucking it across her room, her hands came to cover her face as she sobbed, and she brought her knees up to her chest. 

she was muffling her sobs like she’d gotten so used to doing when she was growing up, so no one would hear her, but there was no one there to hear her now anyway. 

he took a step back, running a hand through his hair frustratedly as avery blinked back angry tears. “jameson, don’t even say that to me.” her voice quivered, but she wouldn’t let a tear drop. “don’t you dare look for the easy way out. you’re a hawthorne, aren’t you? the easiest answer is never the right one — you’re the one that told me that.” 

she trudged her way out of her room to the kitchen, after angrily wiping at her tears and staring at her reflection for far too long. 

she revised over all the things she would say to jameson when she saw him again, how sorry she was, how she never meant any of it, how she was so out of her mind.

jameson laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “avery, none of this is easy." his eyes met hers, his voice colder than she’d ever heard it. “you want someone i can’t be. you want a version of me that doesn’t exist. i can’t change myself no matter how hard i try, and believe me — i have.”

her throat began to tighten as she struggled to keep her composure. “jameson, no. i want you—whatever flaws you think you have and all.” she exclaimed, the next part coming out much quieter than she intended. “but you…” she trailed off, “you don’t even trust me with all of that. why can’t you understand that i love you for who you are? i want to work for us. i know we aren’t perfect, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t something worth trying for.” 

“heiress,” he paused, “trying isn’t working anymore. down the line we’ll both be miserable and you’ll say nothing until we have one of these bursting screaming matches like this again. you don’t deserve it. it’s not worth it.”

it’s not worth it. they weren’t worth it. she wasn’t worth it.

avery swirled the glass of water she filled up as she leaned against the counter, dim low lighting filling the empty kitchen. the freezing water made her feel as cold on the inside as she was outside. 

she finished her glass and made her way out of the kitchen, making a turn to get to the stairs, only to stop in her tracks and stagger back. 

her eyes met familiar green ones with slight bags under them, and an unruly bed of hair that usually looked a little tidier. 

avery was at a loss for words, jameson hawthorne, standing infront of her, giving up because things got too hard?

she scoffed, but she sounded more dejected than she did angry. “fine then. don’t try anymore.” she swallowed, taking in the way jameson’s brows softened and a flash of something passed through his eyes, though she couldn’t quite place it. regret? anger? satisfaction? 

she let her eyes do the talking for a moment before speaking. “you are the most selfish person i’ve ever met.” she added with purpose, every word like a dagger to him. she didn’t wait for anything he had to say, turning on her heels with one last look and walking out of the room. 

jameson called out for her, but she kept walking. her heart beat faster than it ever had before and it was like every inch of her body wanted to turn around and collapse in his arms. 

—to apologize for everything she did and didn’t do, to look into his eyes and see that glitter of love in them, for him to kiss the tears off of her and simply be there.

unfortunately for avery kylie grambs, she didn’t always get what she wanted, and she kept walking forwards. 

avery felt like she had the wind knocked out of her as jameson stood infront of her, breathing heavily as he looked equally as surprised to have found her.

every rehearsed line and practiced speech she had left her mind in that moment. the only thing that rang through it was his name. “jameson,” she said, almost whispering. 

“heiress, wait.” he said, reaching an arm out to stop her leaving— he couldn’t let her go. she wasn’t going to anyway, she felt frozen in place. she also didn’t want to leave.

“i, i don’t know what to say, jameson, i’m so sorry.” she said with a light shake of her head, “i was so out of line last night, and i shouldn’t have—“

he cut her off, “no, avery, let me just say this, please.” he said with pleading eyes. “i think i should be institutionalized with the way i felt like i’ve lost my mind without you. i know i lost my mind last night, that’s for sure.” 

he chuckled nervously, and avery knew jameson hawthorne never got nervous. “avery, you are worth every single thing on this goddamn planet— in the whole universe. i don’t think i could begin to conceptualize a life without you in it. what i said last night? i lied.“ 

he took a deep, shuddering breath in. “i said i couldn’t change for you, but i know that’s not true, because i have— before my own eyes. every waking day i spend with you makes me want to become better, for you, heiress.” 

avery felt her eyes begin to prick with tears once again, but she didn’t feel a single drop of hurt in her body now. “i’ve never felt so deeply devoted and in love with anything in my life before, and that scares me. it scares me in a way nothing has before because i know it’s so real. but im not letting my fears get in the way, not anymore.” 

jameson’s chest heaved as he looked down at avery, “heiress. you don’t have to say anything.” he said upon seeing her glossy eyes.

there was nothing she could say anyway to express the complete enamored feeling she felt when she looked at him, to express how much she loved him. 

she wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, as his arms wrapped around her middle like if he held any looser she would disappear, his head dropping down to her neck.

“i’m so sorry,” avery sobbed into his shoulder, “i love you so much. i’m so in love with you. i couldn’t ever imagine losing what we have.” 

“you won’t ever have to, heiress. i’m staying forever.” he mumbled, as one of his hands came to run through her hair. when she didn’t respond, and he heard her muffled hiccups, he spoke once again. “heiress,” he he lifted his head, his voice low and almost musical. “don’t get all sappy on me now, i much prefer that smile of yours.” 

she sniffled as she let out a little laugh, pulling back from the hug and wiping away at her tears. “shut up.” 

jameson’s smile only grew at the sound of her laugh, and her now slightly red eyes met his. her smile faded for a second before she spoke again, remembering the events that had just happened the day before. 

“jameson, i— you have no idea how sorry i am.” her brows slightly furrowed as she shook her head, echoing her words for earlier.  

he chuckled, reaching his hands out to grab hers, “yeah? i think if you repeat it one more time, i’ll have a pretty good idea.” 

“stop it,” she laughed, “im being serious.” 

“so am i. you don’t have to apologize.” 

“i do, though. and i’m sorry,” 

“if you say you’re sorry once more, i may have to consider bringing you to rehab for people pleasers.” 

“jameson,” avery breathed out through a chuckle, “i just wanted you to know.”

“heiress, i know.” he nodded with a small grin as he brought her closer, and she let go of his hands and brought them to his chest. 

his eyes flickered over her whole face, frequenting back to her lips and eyes, and there was that glitter of love in his that she loved so much.  

“can i kiss you now?” he mumbled.

“you don’t even have to ask.” her voice was barely audible in the small space between them.

he hummed in disagreement as he leaned in, his lips barely touching hers. the mere act made avery feel like she was buzzing alive as her breath caught in her throat. it would never get old.

“i like hearing you want me, like how i want you.” he whispered against her lips, before finally pressing a kiss to them, and they quickly found their rhythm against eachother. 

his hands moved to cradle her face, like he needed her as close to him as humanly possible, his brows knotting deeply as he kissed her.

jameson pulled back ever so slightly, his forehead resting against hers as they both caught their breath. 

his thumb brushed gently across her cheek as he looked at her, his heart leaping at the sight of the her smile.

"see," he murmured, his voice soft, "much better than the sappy stuff."

avery let out a small laugh, feeling light on her toes. she looked into his eyes, feeling the love pouring out of them. “everything is better with you.”  

taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @sweetlikeanangel

@littlemissmentallyunstable @anintellectualintellectual @tornqdowarnings @maybxlle @sheisntyou

@emelia07 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee — if you’d like to be added or removed lmk!

[daechwitatamic]

Vice;Grip || chapter 4 || chs

(banner by @itaeewon)

Vice;Grip (masterpost) NSFW - minors DNI Genre: angst smut fluff, fuckbuddies!au Summary: Make it not hurt, you could have asked him. Or, at least, make it hurt in a way I choose.  A/N: infinite thank you's to @sailoryooons and @eoieopda for beta-ing!!

//

Warnings: Frequent depictions of depression, depressive episodes, panic attacks, and substance abuse (alcohol, weed, and pills referenced). PLEASE know that these characters’ relationships with drugs and alcohol are not healthy and should not be emulated. If these topics are triggering to you, please consider sitting this one out.

Section Specific Warnings: language, recreational drinking, depiction of a panic attack, there is a quick moment where you can infer that reader thinks vernon might be actively su*cidal but that is not the case and this is not outright stated, nip stim, dirty talk, piv sex, reader has a high fever but no specific illness is mentioned, a (verbal) fight with some yelling

wc: 6700

Playlist: you can call me in the middle of the night / you can leave before i wake up in the morning / and it could feel so wrong / but i'll still hold on

5 months ago

Five texts went unanswered.

I’m sorry.

I was so fucked up, I wasn’t saying what I meant.

Call me so I can explain.

I’m really sorry.

Please, Vernon.

Each time, they delivered, but no response came. You thought you might feel better if he told you to go away. The silence felt too open, like nothing was settled. Like maybe you just hadn’t said the right thing yet. Like maybe you could - or should - keep trying.

Four weeks passed; you tried not to let it drown you, tried to tread above the rising water of the situation. You swam through guilt, your own anger, guilt again. The knowledge of what had upset him nibbled at your toes like fish you couldn’t see in the murky depths. You tried to pretend it wasn’t there, that it was only seaweed underfoot.

You tried to reason with yourself; you hadn’t done anything that bad. He’d been upset because you’d implied he’d get bored of you someday - even though of course he would - and he thought… you didn’t know, he thought that was an attack on his character?

(You knew that wasn’t why he was mad.)

Or, because you’d implied that he would leave, when you were the one who’d gone silent before? That was valid, you thought. You had been the one to make him chase, when your grey days swallowed you up.

(You knew that wasn’t the whole truth, either.)

You kicked at the fish, kept swimming on.

Three times, you found yourself on the brink of coming clean to Chan. The first time, it had almost escaped from your mouth, prompted by nothing but your own need to hear someone absolve you; you wanted to tell Chan I think I hurt him, so he could say, it doesn’t sound like it’s your fault.

Chan didn’t lie to you, though, even when you wanted him to. He wouldn’t tell you it wasn’t your fault, because it was. So, you tucked the words back in, zipped them up safely.

The next time, he’d asked - “You still… with that guy?” He’d made a vague hand motion that must have meant still seeing, or still sleeping with.

I messed it up again.

I think I liked him too much.

“It’s been like a month,” you said lightly, like it was no big deal. “We’ve been busy.”

His sideways look was scalding. Chan didn’t lie to you; Chan was used to you lying to him, knew all the signs.

He let it go anyway.

Maybe he knew those signs, too. Maybe he knew without you telling him that you’d let the bunny rabbit instincts win - that you’d hid, scared, the second your fragile, broken brain told you to.

The third time, you almost told him all of it, even that it was Vernon. Chan was having dinner at your apartment, helping you clean up after, when his phone buzzed on the table.

“Hey, hyung,” he’d answered, tilting his head to grip the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he ran water in the sink and started rinsing the plates. “Yeah, I’m in. I don’t know, probably in like twenty minutes? Fifteen if I make all the green lights.”

You listened absently as you picked up the rest of the table - napkins in the trash, utensils tight in one hand, now-empty wine glasses in the other.

“Oh,” Chan said, surprised. “Vernon, too? Nice. Should I stop for beer since there’ll be more of us?”

You dropped a wine glass. Chan helped you sweep, and then you ran the vacuum cleaner. Still, you kept finding errant pieces of glass for days. You carried them carefully to the garbage.

It felt fitting, that hearing his name had caused this.

Twice, you called and left voicemails.

Two days after the argument, you’d called on your lunch break. It had rang six times and then his voicemail picked up.

“Vernon… listen, I know I pissed you off. I’d really like the chance to explain myself when I’m not… you know. I didn’t say it how I meant it. Text me. Or call me, whichever.”

After the four weeks crept by and the rest of your texts went unanswered as well, you tried again.

It took almost a whole bottle of wine by yourself to work up the courage, and you hoped he wouldn’t hear the slur in your voice when you told him, “I don’t know why I’m even calling. It’s been a month. I hate that this is just… unresolved. I hate making people mad. I want to know that you know I’m sorry. I want to know that… well. I just… wish we were talking again. I don’t… I don’t know why I’m calling.”

You sat at the stool by your easel for the first time in years, tested your balance, tucked one foot underneath the way you used to. Your hands shook a little as you mixed a purple so dark it was probably actually just black. You covered the canvas, the color of nine at night in the summertime, and stared at it, watching it dry.

When you could, you switched brushes, used a rounder texture to form something that might pass as clouds along the mottled sky. Then, you painted a full moon; it cracked like an egg.

You liked this, you followed the idea, paintbrush hurrying to chase the inspiration, whites and yellows coloring in whatever it was that might leak from the moon like marrow.

The bottom half of the canvas became a moving, living ocean; the blues were eight at night in the summertime but they looked good together with the hour after. You finished with the moon’s reflective path, a jagged yellow streak that dipped and bobbed through the waves.

You walked to the bathroom and washed your brushes, leaving them somewhere to dry where the cat couldn’t mess with them. Then you went back to the canvas, staring at it from a few feet away, your hands on your hips.

You’d done it - you’d painted something you didn’t want to burn.

One painting, one tiny step back towards the life you’d lost - that you’d let yourself lose, that you’d definitively pushed away.

4 months ago

It rained for three days. You lit lamps during the day, suddenly craved soups even though it was the height of spring and the weather had been consistently warm for weeks. The rain just called for it.

It called for you to sleep, too, luring you into bed with a steady patter against the windows. You slept early, and deeply, the cat curled up near your head. The rain beat against the windows like a metronome, helped your heart rate steady, helped your thoughts slow and settle.

You slept deeply, the sounds of the rain pulling you under, and when you were startled awake a few hours in, it was with no concept of where or who you were.

Your phone was still vibrating, jarring; you scrambled to grab it from the nightstand and the cat scrambled out of the room.

Your mom, you thought wildly. Or Chan.

What else could it be, but an emergency? No one else called at three in the morning. Someone used to, but only on the weekend, and that person hadn’t answered you in over a month.

“H’lo?” you mumbled, eyes too blurry to see the screen. You closed them, pressed the phone tighter to your ear to hear better.

No one spoke, but you could hear breathing - ragged and unsteady.

“Hello?” you repeated, more clearly, starting to wake up a bit, starting to worry. You rubbed at your eyes, then pulled the phone away so you could see the name on the screen.

Of course it was him.

“Vernon?” you asked, like you didn’t believe the word on the screen, but you were met with only silence - even his breathing went quiet for a second, like hearing his name had caused him to hold it. Like he suddenly wasn’t sure he wanted you to know he was there.

You said his name again, like a question, and it sounded like maybe he tried to speak but the noise - choked and quick - faded quickly. Your heart started to race, and certainty settled into your bones: something was wrong.

“Hey,” you said, a little sharply, like maybe he needed to snap out of it. “Are you okay?”

Finally, a word. “Dunno,” he managed, his voice thick.

“I’m coming there,” you said, already throwing the blankets off your legs and staggering to your closet to pull at some sweatpants. “Don’t leave, okay?”

“No,” he protested, but the way he gasped the breath after it cemented what you already knew - he needed you.

Or, he needed someone, and you were someone, and you would have to do.

“I’m on my way. Stay there, okay? Wait for me.” You were hopping on one foot as you said this, pulling clothes and shoes on, frantically reaching around in the dark for things like deodorant and car keys.

When he didn’t answer, you stopped moving, stopped trying to find your things. When you spoke again, your voice came out softer, a gentle plea instead of sharp instruction. “Hansol,” you said, quiet. “Wait for me. Okay?”

He ended the call without promising.

You stayed tucked into the building’s doorframe until you saw the Uber pull up; the rain was coming down in sheets, and you had to run to the car, splashing through still water until you could slide into the backseat. Your feet were soaked.

You spent the first five minutes of the ride wiping rain out of your eyes and trying to wring out the ends of your sleeves; the fabric clung to your hands, wet and cold. Outside the car, the rain water ran down the windows and the windshield wipers ran on the fastest setting.

im on my way, okay?

[ ]

vernon you’re scaring me

When the car pulled to a stop, you jumped out as soon as it was safe, bolting through the rain a second time and letting yourself into the building with the code you knew by heart. You took the stairs two at a time, heart flying. You were at once both scared to death of what you’d find when you got there, and refusing to put the specific fear to words, refusing to consider that it could be an option.

“Where are you?” you called, as soon as you got his door open. The apartment was mostly unlit, but for the light above the sink, and a dim light from the direction of his bedroom. “Vernon?”

You were met with silence and you almost choked on your heart as it climbed up your throat. You slipped off your shoes and made your way inside, heading for his bedroom.

You almost threw up with relief when you found him sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. The light you saw came from his bathroom - the door was closed almost completely, but light spilled out through the crack.

“What’s wrong, what’s happening?” you asked, inching closer. His hands were clenched into fists and bent back at an angle, veins raised along his tensed forearms. His breath went in raspy and came out in huffs, too quick to be productive.

You were pretty sure you knew what this was. You knelt in front of him, ran your hands over his tensed-up arms once, and then nudged under his chin gently with your forefinger, urging him to lift up and look at you.

He let you, his eyes faraway.

“Panic attack?” you guessed quietly. He nodded once, trying to tuck his chin back down, to look away and hide from the shame of this moment being witnessed - being recognized.

“If I put on my breathing app, will you do it?” you asked.

The sound he made was almost like a laugh. “I’ll try,” he muttered.

You opened your phone and set the app up, placing it on the bed beside him, the light from the screen tinting him pink. You heard the familiar, soothing voice begin to recite the directions, and you rocked back on your heels.

“I’m going to your kitchen real quick,” you told him, putting your hands on his knees to push yourself to standing. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll do the breathing with you in a sec.”

You shivered once as you stood with his fridge open; you’d been in his kitchen plenty of times, but never really perused on your own. Your gaze moved over beer and energy drinks, finally landing on juice. You slapped the bottle on the counter and rummaged in the closest cabinets until you found a glass.

Returning to his bedroom, you could hear your breathing app intoning hold… two… three… four… exhale slowly… two… three… four. It was hard to tell if Vernon was following - his head was still tucked, but his hands clenched and unclenched, like he was trying to return circulation after they’d fallen asleep.

You waited patiently until the breathing cycle ended, then nudged the glass into his hand. When he took it, you sat gently next to him, watching silently until he drank some.

“Where are you at?” you asked, and then started to explain what you meant.

Vernon interrupted; he’d understood the first time.

He usually did.

“Better,” he said, then added, “Not, like, better. But, better. Still buzzing.”

You knew the feeling - you tended to get buzzing in your legs first, then hands, and then it would crawl up your arms and into your chest if you didn’t shake it. When the attack receded, you usually felt it leave your chest first and then work its way slowly back down your arms.

“What usually helps?” you asked. “Is the breathing cycle better, or grounding?”

“Grounding, probably,” he said.

“Start by drinking some juice,” you instructed. “Then, can you tell me five things you see?”

“It’s dark,” he grumbled, but he brought the glass to his lips as requested. You rolled your eyes at his sass and walked over to turn on the lamp he kept on his desk. It cast the room in yellow, all the raindrops on the window suddenly catching the light.

“Now do it,” you said, coming back to sit by him again.

You heard him take a breath. He was better already - hands unclenched now, breathing still a bit quick but not raspy or gasped. “It feels silly to do out loud.”

“I’ll do it, too,” you said. “I see your laptop, your lamp, your cell phone, your dresser, and your very old and embarrassing Blink-182 poster. Literally, Vernon, is it 2003?”

He laughed, closing his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re roasting me right now,” he said, voice still a little thin and breathy.

“Five things you see,” you reminded him firmly.

He huffed in mild irritation. “Hamper,” he recited, finally. “Shoes. Empty Red Bull can.”

You laughed.

“Cologne bottle,” he finished, then looked up at you. “Girl who came out at three in the morning, in the rain, after a month of not speaking, because she was worried about me.”

You spluttered. “I was not.”

He knocked his shoulder into yours playfully. “I have it in writing.”

You let out an indignant breath. “I should have let you suffer alone,” you muttered.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he admitted, then dutifully drank some more juice.

“Okay,” you said, remembering what you were doing. “Four things you can hear.”

He sighed. “Bossy girl,” he listed, and you whacked at his knee. “Rain. Aircon. Traffic outside.”

You finished the exercise together.

“Now how is it?” you asked, reaching to take his empty glass.

He flexed his hands in front of him. “Buzzing’s down to my hands,” he reported. “Think I’m past the worst.”

“How do you feel, otherwise?”

He grimaced. “Exhausted, honestly.”

You looked at the clock - it was after 4:30 in the morning, almost time for sunrise to begin.

“You should try and sleep more,” you said, starting to rise.

“Stay?” he asked, and you thought you heard a note of, well, panic in it. Like he was scared to be alone again.

Something inside you screamed and beat its fists against your insides, furious and terrified as it felt you melt into goo at his request. Something inside you knew that you were walking into a building on fire. But there was no way you’d stay outside, not now, not if he was in there.

“Of course,” you said, as if it was obvious, as if you stayed over all the time - as if this weren’t, in fact, a first.

He seemed to take in your appearance for the first time, the still-drying patches on your clothes, the goosebumps on your damp skin. “You’re cold,” he said, frowning, like you should have led with that as soon as you came in, handled your needs first.

“I’m okay,” you denied, but he rolled his eyes and leaned over the other side of his bed, coming up with a rumpled black hoodie.

“I promise it’s clean,” he said, a little sheepishly, and you pulled off your damp tshirt and tugged the hoodie over your head, instantly warmer and surrounded by his smell. He left for the bathroom, and when you heard the sink run and the telltale buzzing from his electric toothbrush, you got up and turned his lamp back off. When he emerged, you were under the blankets, huddled warm and cozy inside his hoodie.

When he climbed into bed, you draped yourself over him, a leg over his legs, an arm over his torso, your face pressing against his t-shirt. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you in, and you lay in silence for a while, listening to the rain, awash in relief that he was okay - that you two were okay, that he’d let you back in even after you’d fucked it up.

Just as you were starting to drift a little, you felt his chest move under you, and he said, quietly, “I’m sorry for making you come out in the storm. In the middle of the night, too.”

“Don’t,” you said, shaking your head but not lifting it up to look at him. Your words carried out into the dark of the room. “You can call me. You can call me when you need me. I don’t care if it’s late. I don’t care if it’s… a hurricane, or whatever.”

It was too honest. It was too close to the truth. You shivered in the dark again, and you felt him hold you tighter for a second, as if to chase the chill away.

He let the moment go, didn’t chase it down and shine a light on it. But you know he heard you - you think, probably, he heard the whole thing, all the parts you didn’t say.

You waited in silence again, let the moment go, let the rain wash this away, too. Then, you ventured, “I’m sorry for what I said to you, last month. Really.”

You felt him nod above you. “I know. It’s… it’s okay.”

Is it? you wondered. But you didn’t push it - because you were scared that his forgiveness was fragile and might shatter if pressed, because you’d already admitted something you weren’t sure you’d meant to tonight, because saying anything seemed wrong while you were between his arms with the rain serenading you both from outside.

You drifted off; you woke up with his hands on your skin beneath his hoodie. You sighed, eyes still closed, as he refamiliarized himself with your body. You breathed in deeply when his fingers brushed up your stomach and found your breasts, teased over your nipples so lightly that it almost tickled, made you shudder in place.

You felt his lips at the nape of your neck, and that made you shiver, too. He pressed kisses along the tops of your shoulder as he teased one peak and then the other, finally giving in to your tiny, needy noises and rolling both buds between firm fingers. You moaned, long, feeling it pulled from deep within you until he let go, soothing over the spots with warm palms.

“Missed that sound,” he murmured against your back, and you pressed back against him desperately, suddenly sure that if he wasn’t inside you this instant you would completely lose it. You reached backwards, grabbing at his hips, trying to pull him closer.

“Need you,” you whined, hating it but knowing it was true anyway, the need larger than the embarrassment. You could feel him pressing against your ass, too many layers between you, and you shifted against him, hoping to spur him into action.

He hummed, pleased, and slid a clever hand back down over your stomach and past the waistbands of your sweats and panties, groaning low in his throat when he found arousal pooling between your legs. He barely bothered to work you open, likely feeling the same desperation you were after the time apart. You felt him shimmy out of his shorts, then his hands back on your skin as he peeled away your bottoms as well.

You kicked them off of your ankles and inhaled as you felt him slide along your slit, teasing at your entrance. He kept one hand up your hoodie, pressed against your chest to hold you tight against him, as he pushed into your heat one inch at a time. You heard yourself make a sound you couldn’t name, somewhere close to a whine, as you felt each bit of him rub against your walls as they struggled to adjust.

“Fuck,” he breathed, mouth close to your neck. “Tighter than I remember.”

He bottomed out and stilled, that one hand still holding you tight against his body. You closed your eyes and felt the moment: his heart beating against your back, your own pulse thundering through your limbs, your pussy pulsing around him as it adjusted and fluttered, his breath warm and steady on your skin, his hands soothing and grounding as they held you tight, the rain still falling steadily outside. You stayed still, eyes closed, as he caressed your hips, your lower belly, your thighs, as he pressed chaste and feather-light kisses along your shoulder.

Finally, he shifted, fucking into you in small movements, barely withdrawing at all before tilting his hips to push back in. You rocked back against him, silently begging for more.

He pulled out almost completely, and then slid back in; the sound you let out bordered on a sob, your nerves alight and sizzling as he began repeating the motion, each stroke slow and long, unhurried, burying himself as completely as he could. You floated like this, completely enveloped by him, still wearing his hoodie, as he took his time with you, until you couldn’t bear it anymore.

“More, Vernon,” you begged, “please.”

“As you wish,” he teased, and used his knee to move yours, bending your leg and hooking it up around his to open you up more, to give himself more room as he set a quicker, steady pace. Relieved, you matched his strokes, half-tempted to roll over so you could kiss him, but not wanting to lose even a second of the delicious feeling of him stretching you, of the friction that made your eyes want to roll back and your toes curl up.

It took you completely by surprise when he began pistoning into you, holding you in place by your waist, and a gasp flew from your mouth, morphing into a series of moans and cries as his hips battered at yours. Even more so when he grabbed at your thigh and tugged, rolling you onto your back and readjusting himself over you, slipping right back in as you wrapped your legs around him and tried to pull him closer.

His pace slowed only marginally as he grabbed at your hands and raised them above your head. Bent close over you, you finally got what you’d wanted the whole time - his lips finally found yours and you kissed hungrily as he fucked you deep. Above your head, you felt your fingers curl against his, lacing together. You squeezed his fingers tight when you came, his name slipping from your lips as your legs shook and your world went white. Vernon came with a cry, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched as he emptied himself in your still-pulsing heat, and then collapsed next to you, both of you panting.

“Shower?” he asked, when he’d caught his breath.

You tilted your phone so you could see the time. “I should probably just go home,” you admitted. “I have work.” This realization hit you - you’d gotten maybe four and a half hours of sleep, and not even all at once. Thank god it was Friday and you only had one day to struggle through.

He nodded, understanding. After you dressed, he wandered after you like a shadow. “You around tomorrow night?” he asked, and you could hear the effort to sound off-handed.

“Yeah,” you said, eyes flicking to his for a second. “Yeah, I’ll be around.”

When your ride pulled up and you stepped outside, you shielded your eyes from how bright everything was in the early morning light after days of gloom and clouds. Around you, everything glistened and sparkled, still wet from the days of incessant rain, as if everything you could see had been washed clean.

3 months ago

hi :]

what’s wrong with your face?

are you insulting my smiley?

again i ask you: is it 2003?

im gonna ignore that. come over?

can’t, sorry. i’m sick

whats wrong with u?

should i start listing?

ha ha. girl stuff?

vernon!!!!

lmao i mean if its not that i figured youd just tell me whats wrong

i have a fever, you ass

It was true - you’d carried your comforter from your bed to your couch that morning and had barely moved since. The cat was on top of your legs and you didn’t have the strength or energy to move him. Through the day, your fever had risen; you hadn’t helped things by refusing to get up, which meant you were probably dehydrated. As Vernon texted you, you took mental inventory of how badly everything on your body hurt - your limbs, your hips, everything ached. The pain in your head was sharp and bloody, and you felt like you were sweltering even though your feet were ice cold.

You felt too miserable to even watch a show; instead, you looked around your living room absently. You were pretty sure you were seeing colors off to the side, hazy swatches of red and blue.

Well, you thought dryly, that’s not good.

Then, your hallucinations took form, because the couch was dipping under you and someone was placing a cool hand against your head. You closed your eyes, leaning into the touch just because the coolness felt nice.

“You need to drink something,” someone told you.

“I had the lemonade,” you said.

There was a pause. “I don’t… think there’s lemonade here. Hey - wake up and look at me.”

You blinked, and looked towards the voice. The world’s most beautiful man looked down at you, frowning.

“Wow,” you heard yourself. “You’re so handsome. What are you here for?”

He laughed. “I’m here to take care of you,” he said. “I’m bringing you water, okay?”

You frowned. “I don’t want water. My throat hurts. I want juice.”

There was another pause, and then the voice came again, from further away. “I’ll bring you juice, but you need to drink water now.”

Then he was back, snapping in front of your face. “Hey, look at me again. This is serious. Have you taken any medicine? I don’t want to give you double of something and overdose you.”

“I don’t think I’ve left the couch today,” you told him honestly.

“Okay,” he said, and you didn’t remember him moving or leaving but he was somehow pressing pills into your hand, waiting for you to place them on your tongue before handing you a plastic cup full of water.

“Drink all of it,” he instructed.

“You’re too pretty to be so bossy,” you grumbled around the mouthful of pills.

He waited until you drained the cup. “I’m going to go to the store,” he told you. “Can you think of anything else you need besides juice?”

You didn’t remember if you answered him, or even him leaving. You think you slept. When you woke, someone was rummaging around your kitchen.

“Chan?” you called, blearily.

Instead, Vernon poked his head around the corner of your kitchen, a grocery store bag hanging off his arm.

“Hey,” he said. “How do you feel?”

You blinked at him. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but what the fuck are you doing here?”

His smile widened. “Your fever must be down a little. You need anything? You still want juice?”

You just stared at him, bewildered. He finished putting away a few more things and then came back out to you, pressing a hand to your forehead.

“Definitely lower,” he said. “Do you have an actual thermometer? I couldn’t find it.”

“Yeah,” you said, still confused. “In my bathroom. Vernon, seriously, what’s going on?”

“Come on,” he said. “You should shower and put on clean pajamas and then maybe try to eat some of the soup I got.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think I can shower,” you admitted. “I don’t think I can stand up that long.”

He held out his hand. “I’ve got you. Just a quick rinse.”

He helped you off the couch and into the bathroom, where you sat on the closed toilet while he started the water and got it running warm, but not hot. You kept silent as he helped you undress, as he held your hand while you gingerly stepped over the bathtub’s lip, your legs aching.

“You okay?” he checked, once you were behind the shower curtain.

“Mhm.”

“Okay. I’m going in your room to get you clean clothes to put on.”

“Hurry.”

“I’m right outside. If you feel weird, just call me.”

You did okay, though, washing up and turning the water off on your own, reaching for the towel you kept on a hook. He came in when he heard the water change, and helped you dry off, his hands firm and his gaze gentle. Then he led you back to your bed, guiding you under the blankets.

“Do you think you could eat some soup?” he asked. “I bet you didn’t eat all day.”

You scrunched your nose. “You don’t have to cook for me.”

He shrugged. “It’s pre-made. I’ll heat some up.”

You tried to eat as much of the soup as you could, and then floated absently as Vernon cleaned up.

“Hey,” you said, struggling to sit up. “I don’t think I fed the cat tonight.”

“Tell me what to do,” he said, pushing on your shoulder to keep you from climbing out of bed.

“You can’t just- he’s particular - there’s a process -”

“Tell me the process, then,” Vernon said firmly.

Later, after he’d turned out all the lights, he came to the side of the bed and checked your temperature again - this time with your actual thermometer.

“I’m waking you up in three hours to take another fever-reducer,” he warned you, walking to set the thermometer down on your dresser.

“Okay,” you said, too tired to argue. You were already half-asleep as it was - you had no idea what time it was.

You barely registered it when he climbed into the bed next to you, just rolled over and buried your face in his chest, one arm reaching around his middle, already back under.

His alarm startled you both. You felt him pull away - you were sleeping in the same position, neither of you had moved - and then the alarm fell quiet.

“Medicine,” he said, starting to extract himself. You whined; you were comfy, and warm, and didn’t want him to leave.

“Don’t,” you whined. “Don’t leave.”

He laughed a little, a quiet huff of amusement. “I’m just going to the kitchen. Then I’ll be back.”

He watched you take another round of pills and drink half the water, leaving the glass on your nightstand. Then, as promised, he got right back in bed.

When you woke again, your bed was empty. And, impossibly, you felt both relief and disappointment. Then, from the living room, you heard a clatter and then a curse.

“Vernon?” you called.

Your bedroom door cracked open. Like a flash of lightning, the cat streaked into the room and under the bed.

“Sorry,” Vernon said from the doorway. “He was pissed that I wouldn’t let him in there with you. I wanted you to sleep. He was mutinying.”

You smiled despite yourself. “You didn’t go home?”

“Wanted to see how you were before I left,” he said. “You sound better. You look better, too - I mean, you looked really off yesterday. It was kind of scary.”

“I think I’m okay,” you said. “Okay enough that I can keep my fever down by myself. I shouldn’t have let it get that high yesterday, I should have stayed on top of it.”

He looked at you for a long time. Then, he clapped his hand against your doorframe, as if he’d made a decision. “Okay. I’ll go home, I guess. Just… let me know if it gets bad, okay? And eat something. I bought stuff for you yesterday - it’s all in the kitchen.”

“Thanks for doing that,” you said, a little sheepishly.

“It was nothing,” he promised.

After he left, you stayed in the bed, rolling onto your side so you could smell the blankets where he’d slept. It helped you feel safer, like you weren’t actually alone.

It occurred to you that you’d spent the night together twice in a row, now. The rules were breaking - the rules were changing.

Your head pounded, and so did your heart. Nothing had ever been this frightening in your life, you thought.

2 months ago

Vernon saw you as sunshine - not like it was your demeanor, because that wasn’t true. More like - something he needed without realizing he needed it, something he realized he needed only in its absence. Something that made things better and brighter, something that could sometimes be too bright. Something that made the grey days feel greyer in a can you understand happiness if you never feel sadness kind of way.

He tipped your head back to kiss you, caught your bottom lip between his teeth, rolled his hips into yours, watched your hands clench into fists in his sheets.

He forgot himself a little; or maybe he just gave in to something he’d been holding back for months - maybe even a year. Something cracked, marrow slipped out of him, sluiced into the rocky ocean below.

After, he held you close, whispered, “Don’t go home. Stay. Jagi, stay here.”

And, he had to give you credit - you were at least honest. You at least told him your truth, in your own way.

“I can’t,” you said, and he knew you, knew how you meant it. He didn’t argue or call you back when you dressed, when you left again, just how you’d done things almost every time over the last two years.

He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t want you, maybe even love you, and only have parts of you. It was too hard, it wasn’t fair. Two years, and he had nothing to show for it. Maybe he’d find someone, if he wasn’t spinning his wheels with you.

He saw you like sunshine. Something that was missed when it was gone. Something that couldn’t be forced to stay, something that didn’t come when it was called.

1 month ago

You could tell that something was different. You’d been around Vernon plenty when he was low - this was different.

“You’re being weird tonight,” you observed.

His eyes cut sideways at you. He’d never looked at you like that - this was another clue. Then his face went flat again.

“I’m not,” he said, and you frowned.

“You are,” you insisted. “What’s going on? What’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem,” he said, tone hollow.

“I’m not playing this game with you, Vernon!” you said, temper flaring. “If there’s a problem, you’re going to have to use your words and tell me.”

“I said there’s no problem,” he repeated, cool and even. Something inside you snapped tight, painful. You could feel it all coming to a boil right before your eyes - the way the boundaries had been shifting, the way he’d called you jagi, the way he’d looked when you’d walked away. It terrified you, made you want to show your claws, and it was infuriating that he was icing you out when you were ready to draw blood.

“Vernon!” you cried. “I cannot deal with this little apathy game anymore! I need you to engage here. I need you to care about something, and not just give me this expressionless, emotionless -”

“Care about something?” he thundered, wheeling on you. It startled you into silence. “That’s bullshit. Because I have been caring about you way more than I should, for ages now, and look what fucking good it’s done for me.”

Stunned, you blinked at him. Your heart pounded painfully, and your thoughts felt staticky and unclear. You needed to get away from him; you needed to process this in silence.

Finally, you spoke, your voice coming out tiny. “I’m going home.”

Vernon rolled his eyes, slapped his hand down to grab at his phone. “I’ll take you.”

You shook your head. “I don’t want you to.”

He ignored this, picking up his keys. “I said I’ll take you. It’s fine.”

You shouldn’t have followed him to the car. You shouldn’t have assumed he’d be mad for a few weeks and then get over it again, just like you two had done more than once now.

He drove you in silence, his face coming in fragmented pieces as he passed under streetlights. You were watching him, silently, when he finally spoke again.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he said, still perfectly even.

Tears sprang to your eyes before you’d even processed the sentence, something inside you reacting before your brain really knew what you were reacting to.

“What?” you asked. “Why?”

You knew why.

He just kept driving.

“Pull over,” you demanded, suddenly furious, suddenly terrified, suddenly realizing you were losing him, right now, in real time.

He ignored you, didn’t even glance over at you.

“Vernon, I want to talk about this, pull over!” you cried, leaning forward in your seat, the seat belt tightening on your shoulder. “Pull over!”

Eventually, he listened, flicking on his turn signal and slowing as the car bumped off the pavement and onto the dirt shoulder.

“What?” he asked flatly, finally turning to face you.

“I asked why,” you said, heat laced through your voice.

He shook his head. “I’ve wasted two years with you -”

“Wasted?” you echoed, feeling the word like a punch to the gut. You felt like you couldn’t inhale.

“Well?” he asked, as if to say, well, wasn’t it?

“Fuck you, Vernon,” you spat.

“Fuck me is right!” he yelled, loud in the enclosed space of the sedan. “What are we doing? Just fucking, for eternity?”

You blinked at him. “You never asked me for anything else!”

“I tried,” he growled.

“Like hell you tried!”

“I did,” he asserted. “You ran, scared, every time.”

“Of course I was scared,” you snapped, because you couldn’t deny that one for a second. Your voice comes out choked. “I was right to be scared, and you know it!”

“Why?” he asked, the question falling between you, a landmine.

“Because,” you said seriously, the first tear finally falling. “This only ends one way.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away from you, out the windshield again. Then, he clicked on his turn signal again, shifted the car back into drive, and pulled back onto the highway.

“Yeah,” he said flatly, as the car met even pavement again. “You’re making sure of that, aren’t you?”

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thank you so much for reading! one chapter left to go!

[inumkii]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ if you know what’s right - megumi x reader

summary: you’re frustrated (and admittedly embarrassed) that you’ve made it this far in life without anyone ever asking you on a date. little did you know, it wasn’t any fault of yours- but your best friend who has the unfortunate habit of scaring any potential lover away.

genre: fluff, modern/college au (though it could be read as a normal au), best friends to lovers

wc: 1.8k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n: whenever i talk about reader wanting to be asked out just know its purely because they want someone to express romantic interest in them- im not talking about catcalls or anything weird when ppl get approached by weirdos. I hope that was clear!! :D

boys didn't ask you out

you always wished to be stopped on campus by someone cute and have them ask for your number. it was a little embarrassing at this point to admit no one has ever expressed romantic interest in you.

you tried to convince yourself that maybe you were just intimidating- but your close friend maki over here complains left and right about someone new approaching her for her instagram and she's probably the most intimidating person you knew. intimidating but glaringly beautiful 

so what was your problem?

“she’s taken” a deep voice calls out from behind your shoulder, glaring daggers into the boy in front of you. mind you, the first boy who had ever approached you to ask you out!!

megumi, your best friend, places an awkward arm around your waist. trying to pull you out of this situation by acting as your boyfriend.

the boy in front of you looks like he’s about to shit his pants before stuttering out an apology. he takes off before you could even process the situation, leaving you stunned in the middle of the cafe you were in.

“what the hell?” you whip around to question your friend, “why would you say that??”

you pout at him. you’re more disappointed than you admittedly should be, wishing you had the opportunity to confront the situation yourself.

you pry megumi’s hand off your waist. it's a shame that this was how the situation was playing out. in any other instance, you would have gladly welcomed any form of physical touch from him.

megumi just tilts his head in confusion.

“he was asking you out, wasn't he?”

“yes,,”

“and you weren’t going to accept his invite, were you?”

“you can’t just assume that for me!” you frown. you bite your tongue, not wanting to sound pathetic over the fact that you were excited someone had finally seemed to like you.

“well he looked like a bit of a loser” megumi shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs. he’s struggling to find your source of irritation.

“and what if i liked losers?” you snip, tone accidentally coming across too harsh causing you to back track. you’re aware at how stupid you sound getting mad over something so trivial. you know deep down he’s just trying to help you out, “look, megumi. i'm sorry,, im just in a bad mood right now. i would just appreciate it if you let me handle it next time.”

“ah- im sorry” megumi’s eyes shift to the side. he's a little embarrassed, “nobara and maki have a better time dealing with this situation when one of us pretends to be their boyfriend. i thought it would be the same.”

“yeah, well i'm not nobara or maki,” your sharp tone dissipates into a more disappointed sound. you weren’t like your two friends. people don't line up at the door to ask you out. what a common experience for them wasn’t one for you. and you knew its a dumb thing to be jealous of but it didn't stop you from hoping one day you’d catch someone’s attention like that too.

megumi’s a smart guy, too intelligent for his own good even. he catches on quickly what you meant by that. 

he feels kind of bad, recounting the amount of times he gave the stink eye to a guy who looked at you with the slightest interest. he would never take it back though- he didn’t want any guy getting too close to you. was that wrong of him?

maybe a little,,,

he awkwardly clears his throat, “i don’t think it's anything like that,” he tries to console you without letting on that he might be the reason you don’t get approached nearly as much as you want to.

you only huff and continue sipping at your fairly watered down latte that hadn’t received much attention in the last ten minutes.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

“-and then he said he was my boyfriend!” you wail to nobara, who’s currently splayed across your bed. she scoffs in amusement as she adds the finishing touch to her manicure.

“and that’s a bad thing for you?”

your face warms. you suppose you have been a little too fixated on your frustrations that you hadn’t considered how megumi didn’t hesitate to jump into boyfriend act. sure, he had told you that him and itadori do this whenever nobara was being hit on but you both know it was mostly itadori. anytime it was fushiguro had to be in his place, it was comically forced to say the least.

looking back on the situation, he had almost immediately jumped in to reject the guy,

“listen yn, all i'm trying to say is that i don't think the reason why you’re not getting asked on dates is because of your appearance- i mean look at you!” she caps her nail polish and sits up, “i think megumi is cockblocking you”

“but this is the only time he’s done this?” her implications go over your head

“i need you to think-” she quips, “when's the last time you went out and megumi wasn’t with you?”

“so you think we look like a couple everytime we go out?” you ask her incredulously, trying not to sound as flustered as you feel.

“something like that-” she purses her lips, trying to decide if it was worth megumi (and maybe even you) being severely pissed off for revealing that she's witnessed multiple glares he’s given guys who even think about asking you out. “i just don’t think you look the most approachable when hes always attached to your hip”

you groan. you’re absolutely hopeless.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

days go by and this is the third time in a row megumi sees you arrive from the city with nobara. as your closest friend, he’s the one that always gets asked to accompany you on your little trips off campus. you must be mad at him over that one incident- or worse, completely weirded out over the fact that he pretended to be your boyfriend. that thought mortifies him.

he doesn’t realize he’s gritting his teeth as he approaches you and nobara. before you know it, nobara has already separated herself from you, blurting out a quick ‘see you later!’ as she disappears to her own dorm.

now it's just you standing there, frozen, as a brooding megumi approaches him. you would be a little scared at his expression but as he got closer, you could see the frown on his face was more of a pout. cute..

“i’m sorry” he confronts you directly. he just wanted to quickly resolve whatever he did to make you avoid him.

“..sorry?” you question your friend. you had only really been mad at him for less than a day, getting over it after that conversation with kugisaki. but you hadn’t been acting strange to him in the days after that to warrant him being upset about it. the only thing you had done was go out with nobara more instead of him..

“yeah- i wanted to apologize for the other day. if i,,, you know,, made you uncomfortable?” his eyes shift down to his shoes, not really knowing what to say next. his words come off a little blunt, but you pick up his sincerity.

you only smile a little at how nervous he looks, though you felt bad for worrying him, he looked kind of cute like this. 

“i wasn’t uncomfortable, megumi,, don’t worry,” your words lift a weight off his shoulders and his posture is slightly less slumped as you continue, “i’m sorry too. i shouldn’t have gotten mad at you,, i was just frustrated that you had answered that guy instead of letting me do it. i don’t get asked out a lot so i was hoping i could’ve handled it myself.” 

maybe you shouldn’t have overshared that last part, but you owed him a proper explanation.

“ah- i guess im sorry for that too.”

you blink at him. 

huh?

“excuse me?” you question his new apology.

megumi’s looking everywhere but you. he’s certain that his face is burning red by now.

“i sort of,,” he pauses, embarrassed to be admitting this, “i think i have the habit of staring down anyone who looks like they’re about to approach you.”

that wasn’t the answer you had expected from him. frustrated, you open your mouth to ask him why the hell he even admitted that, but he cuts you off.

“i guess i just was being selfish. i didn’t want anyone to ask you out.” he scratches the back of his neck nervously. he hopes you don’t notice him sweating out of stress. “i shouldn’t have been doing that.”

he turns his back to walk away, not having anything else to add on and wanting this conversation to end as soon as possible. you’re almost left stunned in place but you manage to slap some sense into yourself to stop him from leaving.

“wait! megumi” you jog to catch up to the retreating boy and place a hand on his arm, “you like me?”

“yes.” megumi mentally slaps himself for being so blunt. he supposes he’s already dug himself in a deep hole and he knows you deserve the grander confession you’ve been yearning for, so he works up the courage to confess properly. he owes you that, atleast. 

there’s a slight pause so megumi can gather the correct words for you.

“i really enjoy spending time with you, more than you realize. those last few days you took nobara out to the city instead of me made me upset. part of it was me being jealous you started choosing her over me and part of it was me worrying that the thought of being perceived as your boyfriend from a few days ago completely repulsed you out of hanging out with me. yn, i like you. a lot. i’m sorry for robbing you of all the confessions you should’ve been getting so i hope this somewhat makes up for it… or not, you can slap me now if you don’t like me back.” he closes his eyes, bracing himself for the worse.

what he doesn’t expect is a pair of arms wrap around his stiff body, still braced for any hit you could’ve thrown his way. 

he slowly melts into your embrace, lifting his arms to mimic your action. he doesn’t realize he’s been holding his breath this whole time until he sighs into your hair.

“megumi, i hope you know that i’d take the worst confession from you over any coffee shop boy. i like you too,” you confess as you hold him close to you, chin resting on his shoulder.

“oh so this confession was the worst?” you can hear his smirk in his tone. you laugh, knowing he’s relaxed into your touch.

“oh shut it, you know that's not what i meant!” you push yourself back, lightly shoving his chest. he doesn’t let you part from the hug for too long before he pulls you back in, burying his face in your neck.

he smiles like an idiot before answering, 

“i know, i know”

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Hear me out…. Nathan taking care of his girl when she’s going through sub-drop after an intense session

I am hearing you <3 (Also sorry this took forever!)

Sub Drop

Nathan Bateman x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? • request info • ko-fi •

Warnings: swearing, Nathan being a softie, Nathan picking up reader (he doesn't care what size you are, it's HAPPENING.), typos, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 501

While I fully believe that Nathan has read every single book on BDSM and knows exactly what to do when someone experiences a sub drop, I also believe that the second it happens all his knowledge goes out the window. 

Just for a minute. 

He’s so used to fucking robots that interacting with a real person who does things outside of his control (or ability to press the off switch) makes his brain go errrrrrmmmmmmmmm…

He then gets annoyed with himself for A) forgetting knowledge and B) not being helpful when you’re going through something because no matter what he pretends, he cares about you and the idea of you going through a bad time (a real bad time not a sexy-oh-no-but-not-really bad time) makes him feel helpless. 

And he does not like feeling helpless. 

Asks if he can touch you, hold you, stroke your back and press little kisses to your cheeks and neck. 

He wraps you in the softest blanket he has and refuses to do anything without you. It’s like working on a computer problem for him, he can’t stop trying to ‘fix’ it, make you feel better.

If he’s coding/working you’re on his lap, holding you against his chest while he types. 

If he’s working out, then it’s New Work Out Time, which includes carrying you around the house. It doesn’t matter what size/shape you are, he’s carrying you. Deal with it. He needs to get his reps in. No, he isn’t putting you down. No, you have no choice in this. 

If he’s cooking (for both of you) he’ll put a chair in the kitchen close to where he’s working so he can kiss your forehead every minute. 

Asks you what you want. A favourite food/drink? He’s making it for you now. A bath/shower? He’s in there with you. Cuddles? It’s already happening. Watch something? TV’s already on. Just talk? Would you like to hear about 17th century sword making processes? Don’t worry about why he’s been researching that right now.

Reassures you however he can. Despite how he likes to come across, he’s a big softie. He does not like seeing you in pain or distress. He will word vomit about how much he cares about you. (He will be a big grump if you bring this up when you feel better.)

He doesn’t like if you have a sub drop because he feels like it’s a bad reflection on him. He doesn’t blame you for it at all, just himself. Thinks he should have done things differently, taken better care, been better for you. He’s misjudged the system, made you feel bad. He has to fix this. 

When you’re better, you end up having to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault. (Which he doesn’t like, because he doens’t want to make you feel like he’s putting things on you.) 

He’ll ask if you want a massage, which he has to stop after 2 minutes because he has a boner. 

Thank you for reading!

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