#— « fade touched. » || ooc
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blightoath · 10 days ago
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not me starting a self indulgent fic where feyn and lucanis [checks notes] hold hands
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fatedmuses · 27 days ago
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//at some point I need to write up my concept for Alea being fade touched, since thanks to Drayden (sp?) in vows and vengence we know that really is a thing in da
my reasoning for this is she shared a womb with a mage for 9 months, and I know technically you don't come into your magic until you're older but I think it would still effect things lol
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piningpercussionist · 1 year ago
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*The bunny grabs the drink and lets it dangle for a second, before stuffing it into her inventory*
Maybe we could as Ramona about it :0
She’s knows a buncha stuff about subspace I think :D
Plus I wanna try out some of these trinkets before I give some to Scott :3 (it’d be safe for Scott to have some of these… right?)
-🐇 (Shes sprawled out on Kim’s head and very relaxed)
*Kim hums thoughtfully for a second.*
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... Yeah, she is the most knowledgeable about that place... at least, so far as I know.
*Kim frowns, squinting. Something still doesn't feel right, and it's getting a little... worse- like there's this cold itch creeping over her. She pulls her hands from her pockets and rubs them together, trying to get rid of the phantom sensation creeping in. It seems to work, a little, until she stops, and it sets back in, creeping up her arms and neck. Her eyes narrow as she keeps up the wringing of her hands.*
... I was thinking I might give Scott the bandanna? Or letting you give it to him from me?
*She looks up briefly, then focuses back in on her hands. Something about this feels familiar to her, as it hits her head, and she begins trying to rack her brain for the memory, brow furrowed.*
... I can probably give it to him myself. I'm not quite sure why I suggested that...?
*She looks confused before slightly shaking her head, brushing it off.*
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And maybe the knife to Ramona. I don't know if she likes them or anything, but she could definitely examine it and the capsule at least. Maybe come up with some solid answers.
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rindreamery · 1 month ago
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let's sugar talk !
itoshi rin has never really liked the flavor of strawberry shortcake, but you do. that'll never stop him from kissing you, though. itoshi rin x reader 𝜗𝜚 fluff, suggestive 𝜗𝜚 w.c. 700+ 𝜗𝜚 content: kissing/making out, once again ooc rin
note. i gave myself a little break from writing the event fics to write this out, forgive me👩‍🦯 i was listening to your eyes only - enhypen, and that song inspired me to write this
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strawberry shortcake is simply too sweet for rin. 
the dense cake, with sugary layers of whipped cream in between and all over, and the drizzle of syrup on top makes his head spin with each bite. the sickeningly sweet aftertaste, and the way the frosting lingers on his tongue, always makes his face scrunch up into a grimace. he doesn’t see the appeal in it, he doesn’t get why other people enjoy it so much, why you enjoy it so much. 
rin doesn’t like strawberry shortcake, and he's sure that not even you (persuasive, with the ability to make him change his opinion on anything) could change his mind.
but there’s something about you that makes it look so delicious. irresistible. like he wants to get a taste for himself.
or maybe, it's just you.
something about the way you look when you’ve just had a bite— the way your eyes flutter shut as you savor the taste, the way your brows relax and a look of euphoric satisfaction washes over you, like that strawberry short cake is the best thing you’ve ever tasted. but really, nothing beats the way your pink lips shine just a little more from the excess syrup, delicately glimmering under the sunlight, and the way the fluffy frosting lingers on the corners of your mouth. it makes you look sweeter, maybe even enchanting.
that’s the only way he could reason with himself on why he can’t tear his eyes away from you; you must’ve cast some spell on him and woven it deep into his mind.
because there’s no words to explain how he feels, the way he’s drawn to you each time. it’s like a pull he can’t ignore, like his eyes are cursed (blessed, in his opinion) to travel down to your lips after each delectable bite.
it’s after your fifth forkful (he doesn’t know why he started counting) when he loses to his desire. he can’t think, he can’t stop himself— the way he’s leaning across the table, finger hooking under your chin, brushing his lips against yours in a ghost of a kiss.
tickling. teasing. barely there. enough to get the remnants of syrup and cream that lingered on your pout. 
rin’s pulling away before you can even respond, and he’s right back on his seat in a matter of seconds. he licks his lips slowly; the slow drag of his tongue reminds him that it’s as overwhelming as ever, just like he remembers. yet, oddly enough, he doesn’t dislike it. it tastes different— as if, in his mind, the combination of your lips and the cake makes it taste better, like the sweetness of the cake has faded and all he could taste is you. 
it drives him crazy, in the best way possible. it’s addictive and he wants more. 
“your lips taste good,” he states it like it’s a matter-of-fact. he relishes in the blush the blooms on the surface of your cheeks, and the way your fingers trace the outline of your bottom lip as you reel from surprise. you’re looking at him wide-eyed, and his lips curl into a barely-noticeable smile. (his heart throbs at the sight, he thinks you’re cute like this. you look sweeter than the cake in front of you.)
but then you laugh, soft and airy, and the sound ripples through the air and into his ears.
“you sure it’s not because of the cake, rinnie?” you ask with a sly smile on your face. you drag the syllables of his name in that honeyed tone of yours, and you’re lifting a fork full of the cake towards him. "give it another try." he contemplates, and he thinks of whether he’ll bite. 
and he does. rin catches your wrist as the dense cake touches the corners of his mouth, his slender fingers wrapping around it, and he stops you. he holds you there, he keeps you rooted in your spot as he takes the bait, and he looks into your eyes as his lips wrap around the fork. it's dizzying, overpowering, all in unpleasant ways.
(your lips would never make him feel this way, he thinks to himself.)
the regret is evident on his face as he pulls away, slightly frowning at the taste. he thinks about drinking water, to flush out the flavor and pretend he never did that. but he takes one glance at you, and he realizes there’s a much better way to get rid of it.
the distance between the two of you becomes short-lived.
he’s leaning forward, and he’s pulling you by your wrist, all at the same time. he meets you halfway over the table, pulling you into a saccharine-filled kiss, and your gasp of surprise is quickly swallowed. it's nothing short of deep, it's fervent. he's focused on you, his mind intent on drowning out the unpleasant flavor that hangs onto his tongue. 
rin kisses you until he forgets about the frosting, until all he can think about and taste is you. his lungs are starting to burn, sending signals for air— he kisses you until he needs to pull away, and only then is he satisfied with himself. 
“it’s your lips,” he says breathlessly, confirming it to himself. “not that disgusting thing.”
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tags. @choccorin @etoiile
© rindreamery, 2024
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tojirights · 11 months ago
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❛ you taste like heaven. ❜
Alastor with angel!reader omg. I imagine that reader was Alastor's wife back when they were alive, but didn't see eachother again after death because Alastor is in hell and reader is in heaven. I imagine that after Sir Pentious got redeemed, Sera sent reader (because she has experience with demons(? Ur choice) and Sera trusts her a lot) down to hell to investigate this 'hazbin hotel'.
a/n: AHHHH i almost didnt want to write smut into this because it was so precious 😭 ooc alastor again but its so CUTE. i added my "alastor speaks french" agenda to this as well lol.
buy me a coffee? 😇
tags: 18+ smut nsfw, fem! receiving oral
heaven was in shambles after the last extermination, no one knew what would happen next now that souls could be redeemed from hell. it was then that sera approached you in private, all but begging you to go be an "ambassador." you were hesistant at first, not only thinking that this was a lot of responsibility, but also that your... husband had to be down there. he wasn't a "good man" after all, but your heart still fluttered at the thought of seeing him once more. with a sigh, you accept sera's plea and prepare for your trip down to the hazbin hotel.
there to greet you, was charlie morningstar herself, bright eyed and bubbly just like you heard all about. she leads you into the foyer of the hotel before you stop dead in your tracks. charlie is still speaking a mile a minute in your ear, trying to welcome you as best she can, but you're not listening. your eyes meet alastor's, immediately recognizing him even in this new form of his. and when his smile almost fades, you know he recognizes you too.
there's another brief pause before you're running towards him, your wings unfurling on their own as you're quickly wrapped up in his embrace. the other inhabitants of the hotel watch, confused, seeing as alastor hasn't really let anyone but niffty get close enough to touch him, let alone embrace him. your wings fluff up and cover your faces as you lean up to kiss your estranged partner. "oohh, sweetheart.." he sighs against your lips. "its been..."
you smile between kisses, your heart racing in your chest. "too long." you finish his sentence, earning a chuckle from the demon. his lips kiss a trail to your ear, a low growl to his voice as he whispers to you. "you taste like heaven, darling." your cheeks go red, not quite prepared for such a comment, especially in front of company. "alastor!" you hiss, hitting his chest gently but he just pulls you closer in response.
finally, he addresses the group behind you who are all standing with their jaws hanging open. "now, if you're all done gawking, i believe my wife needs to be shown around..."
husk spits out his drink as alastor speaks, covering angel in alcohol. "your WHAT!?" you hide your face as calamity ensues, everyone trying to speak over eachother at the insane news. "your wife... is an angel?" charlie asks gently, trying to get to the bottom of this. "well, i couldn't have known for sure but she was always more a saint than i." alastor hums, running his hand down your back. you shudder when he touches your wings, to which he notes in his head for later.
"o-oh! well then! i guess you should show her around, yeah?" she smiles bashfully, still taken aback by everything happening since your arrival just a few minutes ago. you look up at alastor, your cheeks aching from smiling so wide. "i think i'd like that." you whisper to him, enjoying the way he pulls you closer to him. "hold on tight then, my love."
you're not sure what he means by that until you're slipping into the shadows with him. its an odd feeling, but you don't think much of it until you're reappearing in what you assume is his bedroom. alastor is careful with you, like he's afraid the wrong touch will burn you, but he craves the feeling of your bare skin against his hands more than he can admit. you smile, reaching your hands up to cup his face. "touch me, al. i'm not fragile..."
your words light a spark deep within him, forcing him to restrain himself from ripping your pretty clothes into tatters. he groans inwardly, large hands reaching around to pick you up before fumbling his way to the bed. "corrupting an angel wasn't on my bucket list until seeing you again, my dear." his tone, its not what you're used to hearing, but that gravelly undertone shoots straight through you. "oh please, you can't corrupt me more than you already have." alastor's lips find the sensitive skin of your neck and you feel him smirk.
"i hope that's not a challenge." he tests, tugging at the hem of your dress. you all but giggle, lifting up so alastor can free your body of clothes. "and what if is it?" you challenge, knowing full well that alastor wouldn't let your teasing continue without proper punishment. his eyes darken red, and there's a tinge of fear in your gut. because this may still be alastor, but its been quite a while, you don't know how he's changed.
but as he kisses down your stomach, you're reassured that the man you married is still there somewhere, underneath this 'radio demon' persona. "your lips tasted of heaven, mon amour, does this taste so sweet as well?" alastor's words alone are enough are enough to make you whimper, then the feeling of his hot breath against your clothed cunt makes your core pulse.
your hands naturally fall to the top of his head, feeling the softness of his ears and the rough points of his antlers. "c-can i..?" you start, timidly holding onto the horns. alastor's body shudders as he shoves his face into your thigh. "yes, ma chérie. please do." he breathes, tugging on the thin fabric of your panties until they rip in half.
alastor wants to be patient, wants to treat you like the angel you are, but he is a demon after all. and he hasn't gotten such a delicious meal in far too long. after he feels your grip tighten on his antlers, he lets loose his self control. his first taste of your sweet pussy sends him into a frenzy, eating you like a man starving. his tongue swipes up your slit before circling your clit in quick flicks. your legs are shaking already, breathy moans leaving your lips with reckless abandon.
there's a part of you that is concerned to be getting your cunt ate by a demon, but this demon was your husband, after all. sera made you come down here and you might as well enjoy yourself, right?
your hips arch up, craving more and more, and alastor is happy to oblige. "this is heaven, my dear. not some palace in the sky, but here, between your legs." your eyes well with tears, overwhelmed in more ways than one. every pass of his tongue has your release teetering on the edge while his sweet words make your heart flutter. its almost too much, and when alastor sucks on your clit, your walls burst.
"a-alastor i'm..." you mewl, every nerve on your body screaming as your orgasm rolls over you. you're almost sure you're hurting him by how hard you tug at his hair, but alastor doesn't stop. the intensity is something you've not experienced in many, many years, and the tears stream down your cheeks. alastor coaxes you through it, licking slow and soft circles around your sensitive bud until your shaking stops.
he's quick to climb up, wiping the tears from your puffy eyes. "such a good girl, mon amour. there's plenty more where that came from."
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awearywritersworld · 1 year ago
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men are so quick to blame the gods
ryomen sukuna x reader summary: your boyfriend is a heavy sleeper, leaving you to form an unlikely relationship with the curse occupying his body during the late hours of the night. w/c: 2.6k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. angst/fluff. aged up!yuuji. sa is mentioned but it's pretty much just sukuna saying he doesn't condone it. heavy kissing. obvi features yuuji x reader but it's not at all the focus. cursing. sukuna calls you kitten. i'd like to think he's not too ooc in this but im probably delusional. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: am i rehabbing our handsome vicious psychopath? yes<3 loosely inspired by this post (features manga spoilers) of him being v beautiful and poetic series masterlist // masterlist
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humans have always irritated the king of curses— pathetic little vermin scurrying around, utterly oblivious to their own weakness.
so it came as quite a shock to him when he awoke after over a millenia, only to find himself trapped inside the body of some teenaged brat.
nearly 7 years later and he's positive there isn't a person he despises more in the universe. not even the cocky six eyes wielder can elicit sukuna's fury the way itadori yuuji so easily does.
that's why he resolved early on to kill his vessel's pretty little girlfriend, an act he hopes might satiate his spite. he's positive nothing would devastate yuuji more.
luckily for you, life has a funny way of working.
you and yuuji are standing at an intersection in the city, the pink-haired man staring at his phone as he tries to piece together the directions to a new sushi restaurant you've been wanting to try.
when the pedestrian sign on the other side of the street blinks, you step out onto the pavement without checking for oncoming traffic.
"what the-" yuuji's confused voice fills your ears just as a rough hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you backward violently.
a car barrels through the spot you'd just been standing, the driver clearly not paying attention to the traffic signal. you look back just in time to see harsh black marks fading from your boyfriend's arm, though the rest of his body has seemingly remained unblemished.
it's an odd sensation for yuuji because he's never lost control to sukuna in such a manner. he doesn't dwell on it long though, as anger blossoms in his chest.
"do not touch her," he scolds the curse occupying his body.
a mouth appears on his cheek and scoffs. "sure. i'll just let her die next time."
"it's okay, yu," you interject before he can retaliate. "thanks, sukuna. i, uh, appreciate it."
he grumbles something incomprehensible, his mouth quickly disappearing. your boyfriend looks at you bemused, but you only shrug. the fact that yuuji had lost control to sukuna doesn't make you feel nervous or threatened. you're grateful that he kept you from being run over, albeit a bit surprised.
as you continue your walk to the the sushi restaurant, you find yourself not quite able to meet yuuji's eye because... well... you haven't exactly been forthright regarding your relationship with the king of curses.
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the first night it happens, you're laying in bed eagerly finishing the final volume of a manga you've been reading. yuuji is fast asleep and has been for hours, though you're used to being the night owl in the relationship.
you keep wiping at your eyes, the cheerful ending tugging at your heartstrings and tying the story together in a beautiful way.
"can you stop with your incessant sniveling? this idiot's brain is so rarely quiet and you're ruining it."
you look over to see the eye beneath your boyfriend's is open, staring at you scornfully.
"can you fuck off?" your tone is obviously meant to mock him. "i'm finishing one of my favorite mangas and you're ruining it."
"need i remind you of your place, brat?" he sneers. "it's dreadfully wretched, crying because you don't like the ending to some stupid story."
"since you're so clearly invested, i'll have you know i'm crying because i do like it."
"..and here i thought you couldn't get any more pathetic."
your eye twitches in annoyance. "just because you're mad about being stuck in 'some idiot human's body' doesn't mean you have to go around projecting your feelings of inadequacy onto other people."
you move your hand to cover the mouth on your boyfriend's cheek before sukuna can respond, hissing out in pain just a moment later.
"oh my god, you actually bit me." you inspect the teethmarks on your palm in disbelief.
"just wait until i win control of this body— the punishment you deserve for such insolence. you'd better hope you're miles away, but even then—"
"holy shit, enough already. i'll go to sleep. enjoy your peace and quiet," you growl angrily, flipping off the lamp and turning away from him. for some reason, you still find yourself mumbling, "good night."
sukuna's eye widens before promptly closing, the silence hanging in the air heavily. it's the longest conversation he's had in years and the first casual pleasantry he's heard in a millenia. he tries to feel satisfied that he got what he wanted in the end, before returning to his quiet solitude.
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over the next few months, your late nights are graced somewhat frequently by the king of curses. he mainly complains— the friends you hung out with earlier were annoying, the tv's too loud, it took yuuji twenty minutes to exorcise a curse that sukuna could have dealt with in seconds.
it doesn't bother you nearly as much anymore and he's no longer able to get under your skin like he did that first night. it seems as if he's losing his touch, or perhaps he just isn't trying as hard.
it's around one in the morning, a book resting in your lap while your boyfriend snores softly beside you. sukuna's eye pops open, peering over at the text. "you're reading homer?"
your body jerks, startled by his sudden question, but you recover soon thereafter. "yeah, were you two friends or something?"
"no, you fool," he derides. "he lived far before my time."
though you don't comment on it, you find it amusing that your sarcasm had gone over his head. "oh, you're right. how silly of me to think you had friends."
"such profound witticism. i can hardly contain myself."
you sneak a glance over to find he's narrowed his eye at you and you actually giggle. "sorry."
it doesn't dawn on you how bizarre the interaction is, but sukuna abruptly realizes that something feels different. not once before tonight had he made you laugh.
he pushes the thought from his mind. "i did, however, indulge in his works during the heian period."
"really?" you perk up. it's not often you give him your full attention. "what'd you think?"
"i suppose i liked him well enough. one of my favorite lines comes from the poem you're reading."
you motion your hand for him to continue. "well don't be shy. i'm sitting here with bated breath."
he rolls his eye, but speaks nonetheless.
"men are so quick to blame the gods— they say that we devise their misery..." you realize for the first time how gruff his voice is, the deep reverberations sending a shudder down your spine. "but they themselves, in their depravity, design grief greater than the griefs that fate assigns."
his eye flickers between each of yours before you look back to your book, fiddling with the corner of the page. you're suddenly feeling rather shy. "does that mean you think humans are even crueler than you?"
he muses over your question briefly.
"if i recounted how men would flee the villages i burned, leaving their families behind in a selfish attempt to save themselves.. who would you find more revolting?
you swallow nervously. "i.. i don't know."
"what if i told you of the men who would eagerly offer their wives and daughters to me, hoping i'd spare them.. who would you deem more wicked?"
you're so busy avoiding his gaze that you don't see the way he carefully regards you. a question you're unsure you want the answer to tumbles from your lips before you can stop it. "did you accept? the.. the husbands' offers—"
"no," he responds. "i have little interest in unwilling partners."
"oh. well that's, um, good."
he hums in response, leaving you to process everything he's told you.
"you should stop," you blurt out eventually.
"stop what?"
"being nice to me." you wouldn't normally consider discussing literature then reminiscing about the egregious stories of his past life particularly kind, but then again, it is sukuna you're speaking with. "it's weird."
he rolls his eye again. "you're hardly in any position to be giving me orders, you insufferable brat."
"see? that's much better."
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"why are you crying?" his tone is even, conveying neither annoyance or concern. truthfully, he has no idea what compelled him to ask in the first place.
you don't answer, hoping he'll leave you alone. you really don't have it in you tonight, even if sukuna's been much more tolerable recently. it's been weeks since you finished reading homer's epic poem.
the moon is already setting and it's just a few days before your date at the sushi restaurant.
when you sniffle again, he calls your name. you don't register that he doesn't say brat or idiot. it's the first time he's used your actual name.
"w-what do you want?"
"i seem to recall asking you a question."
you're laying on your side, facing away from yuuji and by extension, sukuna.
"i'm not crying," you declare.
sukuna briefly wonders why he's stuck dealing with you while yuuji sleeps, but his inward 'annoyance' is half hearted. "you're an awful liar."
you exhale and turn to look at him. the only light in the room is coming from the tv, but it's enough that he can see you clearly. "sometimes.. i can't help but worry about the execution."
yuuji has told you countless times that gojo has a plan, that he won't let anything happen, but you know what the higher ups are capable of.
and while it's down right shameful, you know that much, it's not only your boyfriend you worry about these days. sukuna's become so commonplace in your life, you almost look forward to talking with him at night.
"the thought of losing yuuji... of losing.. you.. it scares me," you murmur.
your words stir up feelings he's never once experienced and it's confusing to him. "i'd have figured you'd at least be pleased to be rid of me."
"well, i-i kind of thought we were friends now," you share without thinking.
"don't flatter yourself."
he regrets the words as soon as they come out of his mouth and the guilt he feels as he watches your face fall is unbecoming of a being so powerful. you apologize meekly, shifting (too late) to hide your hurt.
he can't remember a moment in which he's hated being trapped in his vessel's god forsaken body more. he wants to reach out to you, even if the idea feels entirely foreign to him.
but he can't, so he just sighs. "if you think i'm going to let a few feebleminded sorcerers execute me and the brat, you're even more foolish than i thought."
you peer at him, the smallest smile gracing your lips when you realize that's probably as close to an apology as sukuna would ever get.
"promise?"
for fuck's sake. he feels utterly pathetic. completely deplorable. laughable, even—
"yes," he states impassively. "now go to sleep."
"okay." your smile is just a little wider as your fingertips brush the spot below his eye and above his mouth. you wonder if he can even feel it. "good night, sukuna."
"...night, brat."
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less than a week after sukuna saves your life at the intersection, yuuji kisses you goodbye as he heads out to a mission. he assures you he'll be early tonight, as he only has to exorcise a semi-grade one cursed spirit in roppongi.
though things don't go quite as planned because in addition to the semi-grade, he finds himself standing before two special grades. he manages to defeat one of the special grades, but the other two leave him badly hurt, his breathing labored.
he has to beg sukuna to switch out with him. the king of curses hasn't forgotten his promise to you and he's no fool— it's clear this is an ambush by the higher ups— but he'll be damned if he wasn't going to have a little fun with the brat first.
he makes quick work of the curses, each of them going rigid with fear as soon as he appears, and it soon becomes apparent that yuuji is too weakened to take back control of his body just yet.
at last, sukuna has his long yearned for freedom and a new world at his fingertips, but there's just one problem... all he wants to do is find you.
when the lock to your apartment clicks, your eyes shift to the door, an excited grin on your face. you can't hide your shock when it isn't your boyfriend that steps inside.
you don't say anything at first, simply following his frame across the room as he approaches you. he leans against the wall a few feet away from where you're sitting on the couch, folding his arms across his chest.
"seems your concerns about the execution weren't unwarranted."
"w-what?!" you exclaim, rising to your feet and taking a step toward him. "what happened?"
he relays the story to you, emphasizing how 'unimpressive' yuuji's power was and how 'terribly simple' it was for him to finish the job his vessel couldn't.
you narrow your eyes at him, only half joking when you ask, "what are you doing here, then? shouldn't you be off pillaging tokyo or something?"
he chuckles. "such a dark mind you have. it wounds me to hear you assume the worst of me."
you bite your lip to hide your smile. "just figured it'd save time."
he closes the space between you and though you can feel the heat radiating from his body, you don't shy away from him. instead, your eyes trail over the dark lines adorning his face and chest.
he reaches up and your breath catches in your throat when the back of his fingers ghost over your neck. his nails graze your skin and a sly smirk forms on his face. "aren't you frightened? it'd be all too easy to kill a little thing like you."
"but you won't."
he can't tell if your assuredness pisses him off, but it certainly makes his heart rate pick up. his hand now occupies the space where your neck meets your shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle. "what has you so convinced?"
"well you saved me, didn't you? and.. and you kept your promise."
he hums in response and your hand seems to act of its own accord when it reaches up to rest atop his. any lingering sense of amusement is gone in an instant, the air now fraught with tension.
"so why are you here, sukuna?" you murmur.
the king of curses has never known goodness. he's wrought untold destruction and misery, his name inspiring fear even after millenia. he's a legend— a god, even— yet here you are staring up at him and he swears the look in your eyes is almost tender.
"i don't know."
"and you had the nerve to call me an awful liar."
you know you're taking a risk when you lean up and press your lips to his. he freezes for a moment before his mouth begins to move against yours tentatively. his arm stays at his side, so you grab his hand, moving it to your waist.
it's as if that flips a switch in sukuna. he backs you up against the wall somewhat roughly and you can feel him smile against your lips when you let out a squeak of surprise.
he uses the opportunity to take your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging at it before moving to your neck with the intention of leaving a trail of marks across your delicate flesh.
you know you should care, but you just can't bring yourself to tell him to stop. you're too preoccupied with the feeling. he revels in the little gasps he's pulling from your throat, in the way you grab weakly at his biceps.
"you are divine, kitten," he growls. "been waiting so long to touch you."
just as he finishes speaking, he pulls back a few inches and his body stiffens.
"damn it. not now, you stupid brat—"
the words die in his throat as the black lines begin to fade and you're met with the perplexed face of your boyfriend. he breaths out your name, clearly worried. "what.. what happened?"
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seneon · 9 days ago
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ALWAYS BEEN YOU ──── racer¡kaiser × fem racer¡reader.
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about. you have always been the only woman famous racer michael kaiser has his eyes on. suggestive. romance. kaiser is kinda ooc. wc of 700+
notes. written for @kaiser1ns my fav freak, in celebration of kaiser FINALLY animated. gosh he's so majestic ...
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silence hung in the air, the only sounds echoing to the corners of the ceiling are steady breathing and the fading sounds of the cars beneath the city.
this clearly isn’t supposed to happen. you’re in a world-class racer’s luxurious penthouse, his expensive velvet blanket clinging to the curves of your body which rise and fall with each slow and even breath.
michael kaiser's lips brushed against the skin of your neck, all so playful and teasing that it bears hundreds of eerie spiders to crawl down your spine.
“shouldn’t you hate me?” kaiser asked in a soft whisper, his lips still pressing against your skin as his eyes flickered to your face. “i’m an official racer, and you’re a street racer.”
your eyes glued to the windows. they were so large you swore the city below could get a cinematic view of the heated moment you and kaiser spent together just a few moments ago. his fingers moved to trace along your arm in sweet caresses that you forgot you even carry a speck of hatred for the man whose name ran down your tongue like a repeated prayer.
neither of you knew what twisted fate this is, for him to stop seeing you as another of those measly, rebellious and illegal racers which he despised and loved crushing to the ends of the earth. kaiser’s eyes still gazed over your facial features before they averted to your neck, pressing one last soft and rather chaste kiss.
his fingers are on your neck now, tracing over the love bites he had left. you are like his canvas as he draws on them, leaving his artwork all over. his touch is so gentle in a motion so slow and reverent.
it was almost as if he was trying to imprint his bites onto his own fingers, a sense of pride in his tainted heart when he knew you'd be the one walking around in daylight with all these marks. a special mark only michael kaiser could commit to the best street racer in the underground racing community.
“do you hate me?” the german man asked again, forming a different sentence compared to his first ones, words holding such a different weight to them that it makes you glance at him, eyes locking onto his piercing azure ones.
truth to be told, he wouldn’t want to listen to whatever that is about to slip down the tip of your tongue. for some reason he despises your answer already. it didn’t sound good to his pride and his soul, for he fear it might be a speckled with paint to taint more of him.
when he sees that you shook your head, a little smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. it seems his pride wouldn’t be torn away tonight after all.
“and here i thought you hated me,” he softly said, voice holding an unspoken tone before he shifted closer to you, arms snaking around your waist to pull you close to him. “it’s hot when you hate me, y’know? the look you gave me when i’m inside you. could almost kill.”
you let him hold you close. you allowed because you’ve grown to appreciate his warm touch, his body that envelopes you like a fuzzy little bridal veil that keeps you safe and content. it was almost like the verse where they say you are drawn to one like a moth to a flame.
kaiser presses one soft kiss on your shoulders. then many more around your neck area.
“i don’t hate you, michael. sure, you’re a cocky racer and you look down on street racers, but i can tell you deep down respect them and their independence. and as for me…”
“i fucking love you,” the man finishes for you, his hands trailing up to your chest to rest his palm against your breast, giving it one light squeeze. “it’s always been you who’s cracking my view on street racers. if anything, you’re my favourite street racer, schatz.”
a smile crept up your cheeks at his words. kaiser has a way with his words, even if they were normal phrases spoken to others. he coats his words with a fine layer of honey, but whenever he’s with you, it’s nothing but pure, sweet poison that you’re willingly absorbing.
“i love you too,” you softly said, feeling his lips curled into a smile against your skin as well before he pressed his bare chest against your back.
“now that’s better than hate,” murmured the emperor of the road before he nuzzles his face into your neck and both your souls fell into a tranquil slumber.
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literaila · 9 months ago
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are you stupid?
gojo satoru x fem!reader
summary: you come home injured and satoru isn't cool with it
warnings: literal hurt/comfort, descriptions of a wound bad enough to warrant stitches, little angst, fluff, slightly ooc satoru
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*
year six.
“are you stupid?” 
your hands are frozen to the touch, barely able to grasp the doorknob when his voice comes from nowhere at all. 
you almost don't notice it when satoru opens the door. you have to blink to focus on him, but by the time you do, you're already falling against the empty space in front of you. 
satoru is quick to catch your arm, righting you before you break your nose on the hardwood.
“that’s my line,” you tell him, slightly coughing--it sends shocks down your spine and you shiver. you shake his hand off of you, trying to walk forward, but there's a wall of a man standing there. you blink at him. "hey, satoru. would you mind moving?” 
“i could smell the blood from down the block,” he says, his voice rougher than usual, completely still. “what did you do?” 
you roll your eyes, waving a hand (even though it makes you a bit woozy). “there’s no way you could smell that. it’s not even that bad.” 
“it’s dripping down your shirt.” 
you pout, looking down. "i just washed this, too.” 
it is a lot of blood, you realize suddenly. you would definitely get some looks if you were walking down the street in public. 
still, you don't feel all that banged up. it's not really your fault that you were slightly distracted when that curse snuck up on you... or at least, you're pretty sure it's not. 
satoru, shaking his head--maybe finally realizing that you're fine--moves out of the way, holding the door open for you. "what did you do?"
you step through, using the wall to keep you steady. “how do you know i did anything?” 
you finally look at satoru, even though he's fading from your eyeline, in and out of focus. he's not wearing his blindfold or his glasses, and he's got a frown that rivals one of megumi's at the moment. 
it makes you laugh, just a little, as you try to shake the shoes from your feet. 
he was probably sleeping, you think. usually, you'd probably feel... at least slightly bad. but right now? you don't even care. 
you're just happy to see him, right in front of you like your own personal greeting card. you've only been gone a day, but satoru feels much further away than that. 
especially with his frown and his furrowed eyebrows. he's in a mood, you remember, frowning. 
“why are you bleeding, y/n?” 
you cough again, tapping his chest as you move past him. “jeez, lighten up, satoru. i’m good,” you say this as you limp down the hallway, wincing with every step. 
you don't get to watch satoru's eye roll, but it takes less than a second for an arm to wrap under your shoulders, satoru forcing your weight onto him, and he practically carries you through the house until you reach the kitchen, where he sets you on the countertop. 
he's looking at you like you're a fragile baby bird. 
and he doesn't bother to ask--of course he doesn't--before he lifts your shirt from your abdomen, it slightly sticking (due to the blood) before it rolls up. 
satoru's eyes widen as he inspects you. "woah," he whispers, paling just a little bit. 
you don't look down with him--because that's a terrible idea--but you watch satoru. 
you can barely feel it, actually. it's basically just a minor cut, nothing too--
you try not to gasp when satoru presses a finger near your ribs, not directly touching the wound, but far too close to it. it would be embarrassing to double over in pain, wouldn't it?
“is it bad?” you wonder, breathlessly, feeling a bit light-headed. 
satoru’s head snaps up, “you didn’t look?” 
“i was a bit distracted. the curse wasn't gracious enough to give me the chance to grab a couple of bandaids, the bastard."
“how did you even manage to do this?” 
your eyes trail down unconsciously, but all you can see is your bunched-up shirt--drenched in blood. yeah, you'll probably have to burn it. 
satoru is looking up and down, his face entirely disgusted, nose scrunched up and eyes avoiding your own. 
it makes you laugh a little--because you're very familiar with satoru and his opposition to anything humanly--which then makes you wince with him. 
it doesn't hurt that bad, really. 
“can you get the first aid kit?” you ask him, pushing his hands away from you and your cut. but as soon as satoru isn't right there to lean on, you begin to tilt forward. 
satoru immediately resumes his position as your pillar. “are you kidding? i’m calling shoko.” 
“i know how to do stitches, satoru. it’s late.” 
“you need, like, a stomach replacement for that.” 
you roll your eyes, leaning even further into him. at least when you're pressed up against his chest, you don't have to breathe. “you’re so dramatic.” 
satoru is still frowning. “doesn’t that hurt?” 
“nope,” you lie, sitting up and pushing his hands away again. “i’m running on adrenaline. it’s not that deep, anyway.” 
he gives you a hard look. 
you sigh. “what’s wrong with you? you can drop the act.” 
“what act?” 
“the ‘i’m the caretaker’ act.” 
“what if i came home with a hole in my stomach?" satoru's jaw is clenched. "what would you do?” 
“i can't think about hypotheticals right now, satoru,” you whine. “please get the first aid kit?” 
“should i get megumi too? might as well teach him how to stitch you up, he's getting to that age, you know.” 
“funny,” you say, dryly. “do you want me to bleed out on our counter, or…?” 
satoru sighs, but he walks out of the kitchen a moment later. hopefully to save you from dying. 
you exhale, feeling your chest tighten. you can't feel much, for the most part. but then there's that feeling every couple of seconds, a memory of the whole thing playing out-- except your head is fuzzy, and everything looks sort of… colorful right now. 
you can’t even remember how you got here. or the last time a curse managed to actually injure you. 
it feels a bit juvenile, really. 
especially because you’re in no position to be taking care of yourself—but in no world would you wake up shoko in the middle of the night for this. in no world would you wake up anyone, except for satoru, to deal with you, with your blood and your stubbornness. 
god, you hate pain. you hate having to wash blood out of your clothes, and you hate sitting here by yourself. 
you slump down. only seconds have gone by, but it feels like so much more than that. the wound burns, you think, in an unnatural way. 
you probably got poisoned and you're probably going to die and satoru is going to stomp on your grave, and--
“do we even have enough gauze to cover that up?” satoru is asking you when he walks back in. he's wearing nothing but a t-shirt and shorts, you realize, watching him. 
his eyes are stern, focused, and the rest of him is morose. you should be able to gaze at him, to stare--but you can't because your vision has spots in it, and everything about satoru is too hard right now. 
he’s been like this for days. casual but stuck—like he can’t find it in him to laugh about anything. his face has been a field of lines, with no breaks in between, and his eyes have been greyer than they should be, a sort of dim color that you hate. 
satoru's eyes are wild, usually. they are blue fires and the vast expanse of the universe. 
but not right now, when he's looking at you like this. and not this week--because he's barely been looking at you at all. 
and it's unfortunate not just because you miss him, but because you're not as good at casting it all away as he is. you can't shove things aside and make light out of the darkest situations. 
you can't fill his role, and yet you keep trying to. 
it's an inevitable cycle of failing and never being enough. 
“i’ll just cut up your shirt if there’s not enough,” you tell him, putting on a smile so he can’t tell how badly you want to start crying.
is this real pain, you wonder, or a dream? 
“use your own shirts.”
you pout. “but yours are the best quality.” 
satoru rolls his eyes, again, and begins to wipe off all of the well-used tools you have. a needle you've had for years, stolen from jujutsu high, and thread you can't remember taking. 
“what are you doing?” you try to grab the instruments from his hands, clumsily, almost cutting yourself again in the process. 
satoru is quick to hold them away, keeping them up and out of your reach. not that you were going to try very hard anyway. 
“i’m going to stitch you up," he says, like he's scolding you. 
“you don’t know how.” 
“please,” satoru scoffs, shaking his head. he gets a cloth wet under the facet, and then holds it towards you. “i probably learned how to do this before you were even born."
“when you were nine months old?” 
“clean it.” 
you listen, holding the cloth to your wound and still not looking down. it feels sort of ticklish, and also like you're being tortured. 
“you don’t have to,” you tell satoru after a moment, breathing through the nausea that comes with the pain. “i know you’re squeamish around blood.” 
“i am not squeamish.” 
you grin at him. “sure.” 
satoru looks up, and finally, his face relaxes, just a little bit. you can even see the workings of a smile on his mouth—the first you’ve gotten in days. 
he shakes his head. “i’ll be fine. sit up.” 
“seriously,” you say, again, catching his hand just as he’s about to touch you. “i can do it.” 
“seriously, i’m not letting you. your hands are shaking.” 
you look down, releasing his wrist. “oh.” 
“yeah, oh.” 
satoru kneels so he can see your cut properly, his face narrowed in concentration. you focus on him as he touches the tender skin by the wound, featherlight fingertips trailing across your skin.
you shiver and apologize under your breath. 
he hasn't been this close in days. 
“does it hurt now?” he asks you, voice so quiet that it almost echoes through the house. 
“not really,” but you look up towards the ceiling. somehow you know it’s going to be worse if you watch. 
“i can call—“ 
“no, satoru. i already told you, if you don’t want to do it then i—“ 
“okay, i’m doing it. i’m doing it.” 
you close your eyes when he punctures your skin, waiting for the feeling to subside. it's just a prick, but you still have to think about getting the mail, going to the store, taking a shower after this, or maybe just crawling out from your own skin and becoming a spirit.
but satoru seems to recognize this, maybe from your face, and he asks, “what kind of curse was it?” 
“dunno?” you breathe out, mapping a picture on the ceiling in your mind. 
“what do you mean?” 
“i can't remember.” 
satoru looks up. “what?”
“it’s all a blur,” you say, wanting to shove his hands off of you. you've been trained to kick people away, so it's really not your fault. “i think i won though.” 
“i don’t think this is winning.” 
“keep going,” you tell him, instead of arguing. “i’m fine.” 
satoru tsks but does as you say, resuming the smooth movements of suturing. any normal day, you'd probably want to watch his hands work, want to inspect his job and make fun of him for the way he holds his breath while looking at an open wound.
“how were the kids?” you ask him, after a moment. 
satoru breathes out, nodding. his hair is messy, his face slightly wrinkled from sleeping still. “they missed you.” 
“it was only a day. did megumi get that book report back yet? he was worried about it before i left, but i told him—“ 
“i missed you.” 
you look down, forgetting about pain or blood. “what?” 
“i miss you,” he says, this time, like it’s any different. satoru keeps his eyes down, his hands moving. but there's a guilty look on his face--something that tells you he didn't mean to say anything. 
“satoru…” 
“are you still mad at me?” 
you tilt your head. “mad? why would i be mad at you?” 
“you haven’t been coming to bed,” satoru answers, obviously.
your eyes widen. “satoru—“ and there’s a sharp pain in your side. 
“sorry,” he murmurs, softly, at your flinch. 
“i’m not mad at you,” you tell him, trying not to double over. your voice is high-pitched and breathy. you feel like a child—ridiculous and foolish—but it doesn’t stop you from speaking. “i was never mad at you.” 
“you weren't?” 
“you asked me for space. i was just giving it to you.” 
satoru pauses, looking up at you. 
“i… i didn’t want to push you into talking to me. i thought—i don’t know, that maybe things had changed. i mean, we don’t have to…” you wince, and it’s not because of the pain this time. “to sleep together. or in the same room. if you don’t want that anymore—“ 
“no." 
"no what?" 
he shakes his head. "i want that."
“satoru, you’re not going to hurt my feelings—“ 
“i was wrong," he cuts in, voice rough. you don't think you've ever heard him say those words before. "i don’t want space, i never did.” 
you blink at him, brows furrowing. “then why did you…” 
“i—“ he stops. looks around. “does it hurt?” 
and you know, just as you know most things about satoru, that he can't continue. that the truth is going to cut just a little bit too deep--deeper than your injury--and he can't bring himself to say it. 
so you only take another deep breath, pushing away the feeling of your skin being patched back together, and nod. 
“a little,” you say softly. 
an unspoken understanding passes between the two of you, and breathing gets a little bit easier all of a sudden. 
maybe it wasn't the pain. maybe it was just the tension, the build-up of days apart. 
it makes sense, even to your slightly fogged-over mind. 
and then the two of you sit there while satoru patches you up, sharing a glance every couple of seconds—a glance with so many words, so tender and feeling that it succeeds in making you even dizzier. blood loss has nothing on the way satoru makes you feel. 
you can't see his hands--don't dare to--but you can feel the softness of them, the care he's taking in stitching you up. 
if it were any day, you would laugh at him for it. but right now, you just accept it. bask in it. 
“how’s that feel?” satoru whispers to you, after he’s tied it off and wiped the blood from your skin. 
you don't bother to look down. really, you don't want to see the freshly sutured line on your abdomen, but also, you just want to keep looking at him. 
it's much more gratifying, at least.
“good," you say, voice stronger, easier. "is it going to scar?” 
satoru scoffs. “if you wanted untouched skin then we should’ve called shoko—“ 
“shut up,” you interrupt. “i’m not listening to the medical advice of someone who’s never gotten a scratch in his life.” 
“i let you scratch me.” 
“well, obviously, i’m the exception,” you smile at him, exhausted and sweaty and still a little out of it—but home. with him. 
and this time satoru actually smiles back. 
it’s a bizarre thing, his smile. the first one you’ve gotten in days and it wakes you up immediately. almost like realizing you’ve been in the dark for weeks, just getting a glimpse of the light. 
he's a peek into something more--unearthly. if the closest thing you get to divinity is satoru, then you won't complain.
“you okay?” you ask him, but you’re only teasing. 
“that’s my line,” he says. 
“you sure?” 
satoru leans towards you, forehead against yours. “i’m sure.” 
you sit there for a moment. satoru is usually the one clinging to you, but tonight you feel like if he moves away you might never get him back. 
so you sit there, make sure to hold him to you, secure with your hands wrapped around his biceps, his arms grazing against yours as he leans against the counter. 
you're probably a mess right now--your skin stained with blood that shouldn't be outside your body, your face covered in dirt, your hair and clothes drenched in sweat and rain. but satoru doesn't seem to mind, so you don't think about it too hard. 
he deserves it, at least, for making ridiculous assumptions. you have to get him back somehow, after all. 
after a minute, or two, or maybe even three, you clear your throat. “great. i’m alive, you’re… less annoying than usual. let’s go to bed.” 
“‘less?’” satoru gapes at you, but his laughter is unmistakable. 
“yeah, i know," you say, feigning shock, "i was surprised too.” 
he flicks your forehead but you’re still smiling at him. 
“okay,” satoru whispers, leaning back. “bedtime.” 
you rub at the spot around your wound one more time, already feeling the days of sore skin and itchy muscles, and then you push satoru so you can hop off of the counter. 
“hey,” he says, suddenly, stopping you. his voice is quick, almost lost. but his hands wrap around your wrists, keeping them between the two of you so you can't escape. and satoru's eyes are on your face, flickering between the different points of your skin, looking like he's just realized that he's lost something.
you raise a brow, but don't push back against his chest or try to pry his hands away. “what?” 
satoru swallows, still watching you. 
his eyelashes are long enough to touch his skin, and his eyes are blue enough to take up the whole world. you want to grin at the saturation of him--so much brighter than you've seen him in days--but you refrain. you don't want to scare him away. 
but you're not so eager to move. it's easy to wait on satoru, really--to wait for his words, to let him collect his thoughts--because you've only spent nine years studying his face. you've only admired the slope of his nose and the tilt of his chin since you were sixteen, and there's much more to be discovered. 
so staring at him is simple. especially when there's so much to look at. 
you have plenty of unmarked territory you need to take over. 
you keep a slight smile on your face while you wait, and eventually, satoru groans, hanging his head back. 
“what?” you repeat, laughing just a little. 
“can you stop looking at me like that?” 
“like what?” you nudge your head against his chin, and satoru glares at you. 
“i’m trying to be serious.” 
“oh, okay,” you try to push away your smile, but you can't. it's glued where it is. “i’m serious.” 
“you’re not.” 
“what is it, satoru? i’m listening.” 
his eyes meet yours, again, and you almost flinch. 
everything about satoru is forceful, except for the way he looks at you. the way his eyes relax, his entire face falling when you're both eye to eye. it's a look you've only observed on one person, in only one particular moment. 
and, you think, all of a sudden, it might be your favorite look. 
but you're still fed up with waiting. you're tired of his consideration, his contemplative eyes. you want satoru back--with his ridiculous laughter and stupid jokes. you want him irritating the sanity out of you and simultaneously bringing you to life. 
you don't tell him that though, because in this moment you'll take what you can get. 
any version of satoru is better than none at all. you’ve learned that the hard way. 
“hey,” he says, one more time. his smile is unusual, a frightened little thing. “i love you.” 
you freeze. 
your face falls flat, thinking of the words in a million different ways. you might've misheard him--but you're so locked in on him that it seems impossible. 
at once, you consider exactly what he means, so many different variations of the same thing. 
does he love you like your parents did, always too much but never enough?
does he love you like you love megumi and tsumiki—like your life depends on it? like you’d be wrecked without them? 
or does satoru love you like you love him? does he love you like it’s breathing? like there’s never been a choice in the matter? 
but, it's simple. a beat passes, three seconds of contemplation--just enough for the words to ring true throughout your body. 
the way he’s looking at you is enough to answer any question you have.��
satoru loves you like a promise, and nothing less. 
“you idiot,” you say, a sudden, day-breaking smile on your face. “don’t you think i know that?"
*
"should we wake them up?" tsumiki asks, walking up behind megumi, staring down at you both. she's rubbing her eyes, her hair slightly messy.
megumi considers it for a moment.
neither of them have woken up like this in a while. you and gojo are getting better at falling asleep in bed instead of on the couch.
but, at this point, megumi thinks that it's probably a habit. or just to annoy him.
gojo's face is shoved into your chest and your hands are tangled in his hair. the both of you have silly smiles on your faces, and seriously. how do you both manage to fall asleep in such uncomfortable positions.
"no," megumi whispers, yawning. "i can make breakfast. mom probably got home pretty late."
"okay," tsumiki says, still staring.
megumi rolls his eyes and walks away. honestly, what did he do to deserve getting two idiots for parents?
*
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andvys · 11 months ago
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Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.
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Chapter three ⭐︎ So if you need to be mean, be mean to me
Warnings: angst angst angst! mean!Steve, bitchy!reader, slight allusions to unrequited love, mentions of Vecna and the upside down, argument, Steve being a dick to reader. and before anyone comes at me with the 'but your Steve is so ooc! he isn't mean anymore' this is a fic, this is enemies to lovers, you see the mean!Steve warnings, you know what you're getting yourself into.
Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader
Summary: Steve had buried his past self, King Steve was dead, but all it took was a little push for him to make a small appearance again, to rain nothing but chaos upon his already weak 'friendship' with you. You pushed him, and you did it a little too hard.
Word count: 5k+
Author's note: Big big biggest shoutout to my bestie @hellfire--cult for helping me and writing those evil evil lines, you're the best
Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next chapter
He regrets waking up that day.
He regrets saying yes to Robin and the kids to hang out.
He regrets picking up Max’s phone call. 
If he wouldn’t have done any of these things, he wouldn’t be where he is right now. 
Parked in front of your house so he can drive you both to Robin’s. 
It’s been a week since the day at his place, a week since you had stormed out of his house, a week since he had last seen you. It almost feels weird. He can’t even remember the last time he had gone without seeing you this long. If you’re not hanging out with the group, he sees you going into the coffee shop across from Family Video every afternoon. Sometimes you even run into each other at Bradley’s Big Buy, but since last Saturday, he hasn’t seen you anywhere – it’s almost as though you had disappeared. Maybe he would have worried if it wasn’t for Max and El gushing over your shopping trip to Indianapolis the other day, he panicked when they told him that, thinking that you were driving again when you still weren’t allowed to, but El had calmed him down, telling him that you used the train. 
With a sigh, he gets out of the car. He runs his fingers through his hair out of nervousness. He rings the doorbell and takes a step back, staring at the wooden door. 
How will you even react to seeing him here? 
You’re surely expecting Eddie, not him. 
The door opens after a moment, revealing you on the other side, looking as beautiful as always – unfortunately. You’re wearing a white top, the soft pink stripes matching the color of your glossy lips, your skin looking soft and glowy as the sun shines into your house, the fading bruises are almost all gone, finally. The scent of your perfume, something sweet and flowery invades his space, and he can’t help but inhale it, feeling warmth blooming in his chest. 
He takes you in, the way you look beneath the sun rays, the way your dainty necklace lies so prettily on your chest, the way your lashes touch your skin as you blink at him. 
The smile on your face instantly fades away when you lock eyes with him, the usual grumpy frown takes over instead, that pulls him back into reality. 
“The fuck are you doing here?” 
Yeah, you’re only pretty and cute when you keep your mouth shut. 
He clenches his jaw, trying not to show how annoyed he is already. 
“Picking you up.” 
You furrow your brows at him, “what? Where’s Eddie?” 
“He forgot about his Doctor’s appointment, he had to rush out. Max called me and told me to pick you up.” 
“Oh,” you nod and you stare at him for a long moment before a smile appears on your face, “she told you, huh?” 
Caught off guard by the smile on your face, he stays quiet, only nodding at your words. 
You chuckle to yourself, turning away from him to pick up your jacket and your keys. Surprising him by not fighting him, you step out of the house and close the door. You look him up and down, eying the keys in his hand. 
“Can I drive your car?” You ask, tilting your head, “I promise I’ll take better care of it than you ever could.”
He snorts at your words, looking at you with an expression that almost makes you laugh. 
“With that head injury? Yeah, not a fucking chance, Blondie.” 
Rolling your eyes, you brush past him, already making your way over to his car. 
“It’s been like what… a month? I’m all healed, I’m feeling peachy.” 
“A month and you still get dizzy and don’t even lie about it.”
Once again, you keep quiet instead of throwing a smartass remark back, it makes him furrow his brows at you. Instead of opening the door, he leans his elbow on the roof of his car, looking over at you curiously. 
You open the door and put one foot in before you halt when you notice him staring. 
“What?” 
“Did you fall on your head or something?” 
You shake your head at him, scrunching your face up. 
“You’re not fighting me, are you feeling okay?” He smirks. 
Scoffing at his words, you flip him off before you get into the car without a single word. 
He taps his fingers against the car, looking up at the blue sky with a smirk that turns into a content smile, he thought the bickering would start the moment you opened that door. Maybe today won’t be so bad. 
Though when he gets into his car and he glances at you, you’re already staring back at him with that certain look in your eyes, the one that tells him everything he needs to know. Your eyes are glimmering with that smugness, the one that’s always there when you’re about to tease him with something that you know will annoy him. 
“Is Nancy gonna be there?” 
“Huh?”
You blink at him innocently as you fasten your seatbelt. 
“Nancy, is she gonna be there? You know, since you only get the chance to be around her during these group hangouts,” you smirk. 
He squints his eyes at you, biting back the bitter words that he was about to throw at you. He turns away and starts the car. 
He backs out of your driveway and without a single word, he starts driving. 
“Must suck being in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same, huh?” 
He stares at the road ahead, blankly. He could swear there was a hint of hurt in your voice. He doesn’t look at you, despite feeling your eyes on him, he doesn’t look and only grips the steering wheel tighter.
“But what would I know,” you snort and he hears you leaning back in the seat, the leather squeaking a little as you try to get more comfortable. 
Yeah, what would you know? He thinks. 
You’re cold and you’re mean – he is certain that there’s not a single trace of love in your heart. How you care that deeply for Max will always remain a mystery to him. 
“Are you a grandpa or something or where is the music!?” 
“You make enough music for us.”
He turns to you for a brief second, to see you scrunching up your face at him, shaking your head in confusion. 
“What’s that supposed to mean, Lego head?” 
“Your yapping and whining is enough for me.”
“Oh, so you’re saying my yapping and whining is music to your ears?” You smirk. “Just say that you love hearing my voice.”
“Shut up,” he murmurs, glaring at you. He clenches his jaw and flicks the button to turn on the music. 
Material Girl by Madonna starts playing and he instantly feels his heart dropping, his cheeks start glowing red – at least, that’s what it feels like. He grows flustered underneath your stare the moment you start laughing. 
“Oh wow, I knew you were a girly girl, Harrington.”
He changes the song, calming down when some Duran Duran song starts playing instead, but you are still laughing, and he can only groan in annoyance, pointing his finger at you, “shut up, Blondie.”
Your face only grows more amused, and this is where the teasing begins and the drive to Robin’s house becomes a torture for him and he practically starts counting down the second till he can finally get out of the car that he usually loves being in. 
He bites his tongue, not saying a single word while you yap away the way you always do. 
What a fool he was for thinking that this day could have been good, you manage to ruin every day of his. 
He can only stay quiet for so long. 
“Do you ever shut up or do I have to make you!?” 
That seems to shut you up. At least, for a moment. When he glances at you with angry eyes, he notices the smug look on your face that still didn’t stray away from you, not even after his words. 
“And how would you do that?” You ask, mockingly. 
He stares at your lips for a moment, clenching his jaw and gripping the gear stick tightly. He looks away as he turns left, pulling up in Robin’s driveway, he parks the car. 
“I have an idea or two,” he mumbles and gets out before you can question him. He almost thinks that his words have stunned you, when you take a moment longer to get out of the car, but when you do and your eyes meet his, you smirk again. 
He starts walking backwards, taking in the sight of you as you walk towards him. Your jeans hug your hips and your legs so perfectly that he begins to hate them. He almost feels ashamed for wanting to see them from the back. His eyes move up to your top, without intending to stare at your cleavage but he does.. and fuck, he hates how attracted his body is to you. 
“So cocky and for what?” You chuckle as you brush past him, not noticing his staring. 
Steve’s cheeks are red, his eyes instantly fall down to your butt when he turns around to follow you onto the porch. You move your hips and he has to clench his jaw.
It’s really a shame that he can’t stand you. 
You ring the doorbell and patiently wait for Robin to open, you don’t spare him a glance, you don’t even turn around to tease him any further, he doesn’t mind it though, it gives him the chance to keep looking at you. Your skin looks soft and he sometimes catches himself wondering what it would feel like to touch you, it’s glowing and he can’t help but ask himself whether it’s because of the body cream that you put on or if it’s just this pretty on it’s own – not that he ever imagines you putting lotion on your body after a shower, definitely not. 
“Oh great, you didn’t kill each other!” Robin’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts and he quickly looks away from you, clearing his throat. 
Robin grabs your hand and pulls you into her house, only throwing a glance over her shoulder at him, “come on in Dingus, you know the way.” 
“Yeah,” he mumbles as he walks in, watching the way his best friend pays more attention to you than to him. Not only did you nestle your way into his friend group, you had also seemingly nestled your way into Robin’s heart. He watches the friendship between you slowly blossoming and he can’t help but feel jealous of that. 
He stays back in the hallway for a moment, preparing for a long evening with you. 
He hears Robin talking your ear off already, Max and Lucas are in the kitchen too. But no one else is around. Nancy and Jonathan are on a date, he knows that, Jonathan gushed about it to Argyle before he left the other day and Steve couldn’t help but eavesdrop when he heard them talking about Nancy. The other teens are off doing god knows what. So much for the weekly group hangouts. 
He hears your laughter and he can’t help but roll his eyes. It’s not the kind of laugh that he ever gets, no, whenever you laugh with or at him, it’s like you’re mocking him or making fun of him – not that he cares, he does the same to you. It’s your thing. 
But for some reason it bothers him to hear and see you laughing like this with the others. 
You get along with Robin, you get along with Eddie, you get along with the teens – hell, you even get along with Nancy even though you glared daggers at each other that day at skull rock.
With him, you’re either grumpy and rude or you’re just a snappy smug brat – which seems to be the case today. 
Steve walks into the kitchen, putting on a smile to greet Max and Lucas with. 
“Hey,” Max mumbles grumpily, only shooting him a brief and very forced smile before she goes back to her deep conversation with you. 
Another grump, he thinks to himself. It’s not a surprise that the snappy teen likes you so much, you’re both the same person. 
Lucas greets him with a handshake and a friendly smile, something that two of the three girls in this room should learn. 
“Are you coming to my game next friday?” 
“Yeah, of course,” Steve nods. 
“You can bring her,” Lucas wiggles his brows at him, gesturing to you with a wink, “as a date,” he whispers.
Steve scrunches his face up, as though he is disgusted by the thought of it – like he wasn’t just checking you out on the porch. 
“You’re joking, right?” He mumbles as he looks over Lucas’s shoulder, glancing at you. 
“No,” Lucas crosses his arms over his chest, shaking his head, “you are awfully mean to her, which means that you must like her.” 
Steve’s eyes widen and he looks over at you again, in sheer panic, hoping that you didn’t just hear the ridiculous words that have left Lucas’s mouth. You’re too distracted by whatever story Max is telling you though, looking back and forth between her and Robin. 
He looks back at Lucas to see him staring smugly. 
“What’s that supposed to mean?” 
“Isn’t that what you said to Dustin when he asked you for girls advice?” He snorts, shaking his head once again, “‘the key with girls is acting like you don’t care’” Lucas mocks quietly, chuckling after that. 
Steve sighs, putting his hand on his hip, “he told you that?” 
Lucas leans closer, “he sure did,” he smirks as he turns his head to glance at you before her turns back around, “I remembered it the other day, and it had me thinking–”
“Alright,” Steve interrupts him, he places his hands on his shoulders, “stop that, Sinclair.”
Lucas laughs, eying the flustered look on Steve’s face, who shoots him another glare before he steps away. He clears his throat, looking at the kitchen island where Robin had already prepared all the snacks. 
He grabs two bowls, glancing back at Lucas, “help me carry the snacks over to the living room, man. These ladies are too busy gossiping,” he says, expecting you to turn around and throw a comment back at him, but you don’t. 
Robin squints her eyes, nodding at him, “don’t give us the sass, Dingus.”
Lucas chuckles at her, he walks over to the kitchen island, reaching for the bowl of sour gummies and the M&M’s, “when is Steve ever not sassy?” 
At that, you finally turn to face them, a smirk tugging at your lips, you don’t have to say anything to show him that you agree with Lucas. 
He only rolls his eyes at you, no further words needed as he leaves the kitchen, stepping into the living room with Lucas trailing behind.  
“Wow, you didn’t even say anything to her.”
Steve has to roll his eyes again, the teasing in his voice isn’t very subtle. He opens his mouth to speak when the doorbell rings and Lucas rushes out of the room before he can even move or say anything. 
“Well, look at what the cat dragged in,” Lucas says after opening the front door. 
“Found him on the side of the road.” Steve hears Eddie’s voice. 
“Oh you two are such jokesters. You think I’d miss out on game night?” Dustin’s voice sounds through the hallway. “What are we even playing?” 
Robin replies enthusiastically as she walks into the living room with Dustin by her side and Eddie tagging along, greeting Steve with a grin. 
“Oh boy, the board’s definitely getting flipped today,” Dustin laughs.
Steve raises his brows, “you mean you will flip the board?” 
Dustin tilts his head as he looks at his older friend, his smile turning into a playful frown, “hello to you too, Steve.” 
“Henderson.” 
Dustin claims the loveseat before anyone else can, slumping down with a grin on his face, he reaches for one of the sour gummies in the bowl. 
“What’s wrong? Did your phone date not go so well with your girlfriend?” Steve teases. 
“At least I have a girlfriend,” Dustin winks at him. 
As you walk into the room, Lucas faces Steve again, with a teasing grin, “what do you mean, he’s got one too, she’s right there.” 
Dustin gives him a funny look before he turns around with furrowed eyebrows, confusion flashing in his eyes before they widen and he turns back to look at a very unimpressed Steve. 
“What!? You two are dating?” He shrieks loud enough for you to freeze in your spot. 
Steve closes his eyes, shaking his head at him. 
“Huh?” 
Eddie rolls his eyes at Dustin, “Henderson, I think that Sinclair might have a little too much imagination over there.” 
Lucas only shrugs, still grinning. 
“You’re playing matchmaker with the wrong people,” Robin laughs, looking between you and Steve. 
“Absolutely,” Eddie chuckles, sitting down on the couch next to her. 
“Can we just play the game now?” You ask as both you and Max sit down on the ground in front of the board game that Robin had already put out. 
“Ooh, we’re playing Ludo?” Dustin asks. 
Everyone nods, everyone except for Robin. 
“What?” She chuckles, cupping her cheek as she looks around, “that’s Wahoo.”
“Huh?” You tilt your head at her, “Wahoo?” 
“That’s what the game is called,” Robin says, pointing to the board. 
Steve watches the way you shake your head in confusion, slightly pouting as you stare at her. Fuck… you almost look cute. 
As Eddie reaches for the dice, he throws it up in the air, catching it between two fingers, “this game is called Sorry! my friends,” he smirks, cockily. “We only need four players so who goes first?” 
Lucas, who starts scarving down the snacks, waves a hand at Eddie, “I’ll sit this round out,” he says with a mouthful of chips. 
“Don’t talk with food in your mouth!” Max rolls her eyes at him. 
“Red, Dustin, Robin and Steve go first,” Eddie says. “The master has spoken, now let the games begin,” he says in his deep voice. 
Steve rolls his eyes at him, “this isn’t D&D dude, we don’t need a master.”
“Still.”
“Okay!” Robin claps her hands together, “let’s play!”
And as the game started, everyone laughed, everyone was having fun, everyone was joking around, it was all lighthearted. Dustin was throwing tantrums in his team with Robin, while Eddie snickered. Robin was a loser, and she accepted that she sucked at this game, competing against a bunch of stubborn teens. She was the first to sit out and stop playing. Max and Lucas preferred to stay out after the first few rounds, amused by watching the gameplay. 
And then, Steve and you were outright competing as if it were a championship. Neither of you even noticed that it was only you two left, everyone else stopped playing a while ago, watching this intense competition instead. 
While you took it all with ease, teasing him with a few jabs here and there whenever he was losing against you, Steve took it all a little more seriously. Because the moment he lost against you more than once, the anger in him started rising – not because of the game, but because of the looks you were giving him, those smug and cocky looks, the comments that weren’t even that bad – but everything, everything about you was pissing him off this day. 
Your attitude this morning, your comments, your jabs, your arrogance, you’ve been getting on his nerves from the moment you got into his car. 
And right now, he can feel his chest heaving, burning in anger and frustration. 
His jaw is clenched, his eyes are hurting from the intense glares that you start giving each other. 
Neither of you feel the eyes of the others on you two, the nervous glances, the warning ones because everyone knows what will follow after this. 
You both want to win against the other so desperately and currently, it’s a tie between the two of you. He won three rounds, you won three rounds – this apparently will be the last one, this one will decide who will win this very meaningless, stupid game. 
But Robin can’t take it any longer, she can’t keep watching the two of you getting angrier each passing second, knowing that this round will only lead to another, and both you and Steve could sit here all night, because you are both stubborn brats when it comes to each other – as it seems. 
“Okay!” Robin throws her hands up, snatching the dice from Steve’s hand that he was just about to throw, “can you two stop? It’s a tie, move on!” 
You and Steve look away from one another, raising your heads to look at Robin who glares at the two of you. 
“We’ll finish and then we’re done!” 
Steve groans at your words. 
“No!” Robin shakes her head, “because one will win and the other won’t, and then it’s a fucking mess, so stop playing! You fought interdimensional monsters together, for fucks sake!”
“Right, that doesn’t mean anything.” Steve rolls his eyes before he looks back at you, only to see your face fall. 
He almost feels guilty. You risked your life out there, not only for Max and Lucas but also for him. 
“That doesn’t mean anything!? Well aren’t you fucking grateful, Harrington.”
“Everyone fought, not just you, don’t think you’re all high and mighty,” he mumbles through the anger that he is still feeling.
A part of him is begging to just move on and keep his mouth shut, but he is frustrated, not just because of the game, but because of you, every small comment from you reminds him of how much he can’t stand you. 
“Hey, hey, hey, break it up,” Eddie says as he gets up from the couch, raising his hands up as he takes in the hurt but angry look in your eyes. 
You shake your head, “no, no, let him keep going! I want to hear what this bastard with his hero complex has to say to me.” 
Eddie can see the way Steve is fuming, the way the anger in his eyes gets stronger and stronger. He stands up, moving closer to you as you get up as well. 
“You fought with us once. Once! And you think that makes you equal to us!? You have no idea what we all went through, you have no idea the people we lost along the way, you know nothing!” He snaps at you, ignoring the way you draw back as your eyes fill with something he can’t read. 
Max straightens up in her seat, already reaching for her crutches as her eyes widen, seeing the way your lips twitch as blink up at Steve. 
“Steve, stop!” 
If he wasn’t so angry, he would have heard the fear in Max’s voice, something that normally would’ve made him draw back in an instant. 
You glance at her, shaking your head, yet again. “No, Max, it’s okay.” You turn back to face him, looking into his eyes coldly – that’s the only look he knows, that’s the one he cannot stand. “What does Steve Harrington know about loss!?” 
Steve feels his gut twisting, he clenches his jaw but doesn’t answer your question, he keeps staring at you. 
“What? Mom and Dad left you the whole house to yourself, and you consider that loss!?” You frown, lifting your arm, you gesture to the people in the room. “I see Robin alive, I see Eddie alive, I see all of the kids alive, so who exactly did you fucking lose, Harrington?” 
Behind the anger and the emptiness in your eyes, is sadness and pain, something he can’t see through the haze that he is in, right now. All he sees is something, someone he hates, someone who acts like she knows everything, someone who does nothing but bring chaos and anger into his heart and into a friends group that is so sacred to him. 
He never felt this angry before, not even when he found Nancy with Jonathan, not even when she cheated on him and left, not during a single fight with his dad, nothing had ever made him feel such rage. 
“You are so fucking horrible!” He snaps at you, not caring about anything, right this second. Everyone in the room disappears, Dustin, Max and Lucas are no longer there, and neither are Robin and Eddie, it’s just you and him now. “I hate the fucking day we ran into you at Skull Rock! You are the most despicable and cold hearted bitch I’ve ever met! I would be surprised if you ever loved somebody!” 
He can’t see the shock or the pain that nestles into your features. 
He doesn’t even hear the gasps from the others in the room. 
“Steve!” Max yells, reminding him of the fact that she is there, that everyone else is here too. 
The girl almost falls over when she jumps up. Lucas stands up as well, steadying her before she can fall. They both look at you, both of them see the hurt in your eyes, the way you helplessly stare back at the guy that you risked your life for. 
Robin and Eddie stare at him in disbelief, not knowing the Steve that they are looking at, right now. 
All that Steve can see is red though. 
“No, Mayfield, let me fucking finish because she needs to understand how terrible she is.” He practically spits in your face, not tearing his eyes away from yours, at all. “I-I mean, don’t you ever ask yourself why you don’t have anyone? Why no one bothers to stick around because I’d be really surprised if someone did – even more, I would be surprised if anyone ever loved you at all. You’re not someone easy to fucking love, Blondie. Trust me on that.” 
And the moment those words fall from his lips, the room falls silent, dead silent. His heart stops racing and his skin runs cold. Suddenly, he is brought back into the room, the haze fleeting away more and more and he can now see clear again. 
And as he looks at you, really looks at you, his heart drops to his stomach and every trace of anger is gone, replaced by a guilt he had never felt before. 
Your eyes are filled with tears as you stare at him with nothing but pain, not a single trace of coldness in them, not a single trace of anger or indifference or even hate for the man in front of you. All he can see is pain, pain, pain.. Your tears are welling up more and more, threatening to spill down your cheeks. Your throat bobbed up and down, like you are trying to gulp down the ball of nerves and sobs threaten to fall from your lips. 
For a split second, he can see through you and he sees something there never was before – something that tells him that you would let him do this, until he’d get enough of hurting you, that you would let him break you, little by little. But, he had enough. 
You look down as your bottom lip starts to tremble. 
As he sees that, Steve feels like the most horrible person on the planet. Worse than his dad, worse than the monsters he had fought, worse than Vecna. 
What had prompted him to throw such awful and vile words at you? 
The guilt that takes over almost feels unbearable and the moment he wants to take back those words, to apologize, you are already gone. 
Lucas calls out to you, but the slamming of the front door is all he gets back. 
Before Steve can even look around the room, his back is slammed against the nearest wall and he is met by the sight of an angry Eddie, his eyes darker than ever, nose flaring as he grips the collars of his polo, pressing him harshly against the wall. 
“I would fucking punch you in the face right now, Harrington. Don’t forget who was the first person to jump into the water to save your ass!” He yells at him, giving him one final push that knocks the breath out of him before Eddie lets go and leaves to go after you. 
Steve looks down, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath. 
“Steve… what the fuck?” Dustin mumbles, softly, staring at his older friend in disappointment. 
Robin looks around the room, before her eyes lock on Steve, she looks at him in confusion, not understanding where all of this came from. 
“Dingus.. what the hell was that? Why did you–”
“Everyone leave the room.” 
It’s Max’s voice that sounds through the room, awfully calm. So calm that it takes everyone aback. 
Lucas stares at his girlfriend, completely confused. 
All it takes is a single look from her though and he and Dustin scatter out of the room. Dustin pulls Robin along who protests at first but follows when she looks back at Max, who only shakes her head. 
It’s silent for a long minute, and Steve doesn’t know what to feel. 
“That was fucked up, Steve.” Max says. 
Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, fighting the tears that threaten to build up. 
Not only did he hurt you, something he never thought was even possible. He also showed his friends a side of him he wanted to keep buried. A side that surely makes them feel less safe around him now. 
“I-I know, I don’t.. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” 
Max purses her lips, looking down at the ground to avoid eye contact. 
“She may not have been with us from the start, hell, I wasn’t either. It doesn’t mean that she didn’t experience it just the same. She may not have fought monsters, Steve. But the monsters have gotten to her without her knowing about them.” 
You fought monsters, you fought the bats off of him. 
He snaps his head up, staring at her with a frown on his face.  
“Max I–”
The redhead shakes her head, anger and disappointment still on her face. 
“I’m not the one you have to apologize to. I will not tell you her story, I’m not allowed to do that. But you are wrong, you are terribly wrong about everything you just said about her.” 
She reaches for her crutches, giving him one final look before she leaves the room. 
He stares at the ground with a gnawing feeling in his chest, hating himself more and more as the seconds go by. 
The look you gave him will haunt him for the rest of his life. 
How could he ruin everything in the span of a few minutes? 
How could he not see the hurt in your eyes after only the first words that he threw at you? 
How could he not see the vulnerable side of you? 
How was he so blinded by the act you had put on? 
He judged a book by its cover, just like King Steve had done in the past. There is no excuse. No fucking excuse for what he had done to you. 
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parfaitblogs · 4 months ago
Text
illicit affairs ❀ s. reid x reader
in which you want more than spencer reid can give you. 
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: angst (18+ for suggestive content) tags: relation(situation)ship. s7 spencer. mentions of past intimacy. unrequited feelings. spencer's not the best person ever. kinda fade to black & unhappy ending (welcome back june parfaitblogs). reader has kinda bad self-worth. word count: 2.5k a/n: soooo fucking cliche man chases the girl after she leaves. im sorry. except im not. so sorry for whatever ooc thing spencer reid does in this. except it isnt ooc. tell me he didnt have a whore phase in s7. u cant. im sorry this is soooo dialogue heavy LOL.
Fractured shards of your soul scatter this apartment. 
This Godforsaken green-walled, quaint apartment, that you had spent so much of your time in. Nights, not days, because his days were spent yearning for an engaged woman. His nights, however, were reserved for you. Most of them, at least. Some of them. A few of them. Not many of them at all, actually.
It was a little embarrassing; how much of yourself you were willing to disrespect for some attention from a man who probably didn't think much about you outside of your presence inside his walls. But then he would touch you, and he would kiss you, and all self-deprecation will go out the window. For he is so gentle, and he knows every single crevice and button to press on your body like he speaks its language. 
Embarrassing.
It started innocently. A night spent with him after you had been broken up with, resulting in one awful decision that led to the other. Crying in his arms, to kissing him, to having sex, which he was rebutting all up until it actually happened. Rambling about transference while still leaving open-mouthed kisses down your neck, shaking his head because you two should not be doing this. 
A week later you went back to him. You were sad, in your defence, and Spencer Reid was your friend first. He was good at distracting you, you learned. You would cry, and thus, he would make you come to forget about it. Like clockwork. 
At some point it changed from a coping mechanism, to an emotional necessity. You stopped thinking about your broken heart, and instead about how good Spencer was to you. Which might've been your biggest mistake.
You were not to him what he was to you anymore. 
And maybe he knew that. A laughable idea, because Spencer Reid, who could be slapped in the face with a poster that said I am in love with you in big bold letters, would still be oblivious to it all. But maybe he knew.
You had to ask this time to come over. Maybe pathetic, how much of your self-worth you relied on whether or not a man you weren't even dating wanted to see you. How much of your world had crumbled around you because it had been two weeks and he hadn't spoken to you outside of discussing a case. 
It was definitely pathetic how small you felt as you sat in the corner of his couch, a glass of water you didn't really want to drink encased in your palms, condensation seeping into your skin. In your defence, it didn't usually go like this. Usually, it took you all of three seconds to get insidehis apartment before he started kissing you. Why wasn't he kissing you?
You could hear the faint sound of shuffling behind you, glasses clinking together and ceramics settling on the marble countertop. The only other indicator Spencer was even there was his irregular breathing. Irregular from what, you didn't know. 
Another beat of silence passed, and with it, your patience. You set the glass down on the coffee table — something he would’ve scolded you over if not for the thick layer of tension between you two.
"Did you not want me to come over?" You regret the words the second they're out of your mouth, and they uncomfortably pierce the air, only to be followed by another thick blanket of fucking silence. You had already said it — you might as well commit. "Spencer?" 
You lifted your gaze from its fixated position on your lap to find him standing still in the kitchen, a bowl in his hands, still damp from its time in the dishwasher. 
"You know you're always welcome here," he replied when you had locked gazes. 
"That's not what I asked," you said, readjusting your body, chest pressed up against the back of the couch, chin resting atop its ledge. You watched as he dried the bowl and put it away, his shoulders deflating, before he turned back to face you. 
"I do want you here," he said, but even with the finality in his voice, you were sceptical. 
"Are you sure?" you despised the insecurity that seeped into your tone.
He stilled again, and even with the distance between you two, you could see gears turning behind his eyes, coming up with a response that wouldn't break your heart, probably. Because he knew.
He could lie. Say that yes, he is sure, and he does want you in his apartment right now, and he wasn't simply entertaining your own desires. Desires that he seemingly had grown tired of. But you would figure him out immediately, and maybe he knew that as well. Stupidly smart Spencer Reid thinking ahead, frustratingly so. 
Instead, he said your name, in an awfully cautious tone. Maybe lying would've hurt less. He took a step around the kitchen counter, ever so slowly closing the distance between you two. 
"It's okay if you don't want me here," you tell him, forcing a reassuring smile and stopping him in his tracks. "You're not forced to amuse me."
"Do you think that's what I'm doing?"
"Yes. You've hardly said a word to me, and I've been here twenty minutes," you rebutted. 
"I told you on the phone that I had some maintenance chores to do." Okay, true. "Once they're done, I'm all yours."
You shouldn't say anything. You knew that. The words on the tip of your tongue would cause an argument, and he had just technically promised to do what you both knew you had come to do, and after two weeks of hearing nothing, any attention from him was good attention. You shouldn't.
But you did. "Are you really?"
His eyes closed and a harsher breath of air expelled through his nose, his hands flexing by his side as he took a moment to respond. "What does that mean?"
"Are you really all mine?" you cringed even as you asked the question. And, you already knew the answer. 
"What do you want my answer to be?"
You could scream. "That isn't fair, Spencer."
"Do you want it to be yes?"
You didn't want to answer that honestly, too afraid of the rejection that was sure to follow. "Does it matter?"
"Yes, this is a relationship, and relationships need communication—"
"—A relationship?" you repeated back to him, incredulously. "You think this is a relationship?" 
Fingers dug into his eyes, and his shoulders sagged further. "What is it, then?"
"Convenient." The word stung even you, despite being the one to have said it. 
Or maybe it didn't hurt him. For he responded, in an achingly calm tone, "Explain that to me."
"Don't use profiling techniques on me," you countered, and he watched as your walls shot up around you. 
"Asking you to explain something to me isn't a profiling technique," he said, taking another step towards your residence on the couch.
"No, but the tone of voice you're using is."
"Would you rather I yell at you?"
"No—Spencer," you stammered so frustratingly in an attempt to come up with a response, emotions taking authority of your brain functions. "I come here when I'm sad, we fuck, I go home. That's all this is. That isn't a relationship."
"I could argue what a relationship legitimately is."
"Please don't."
"Okay," he agreed with a short nod. "Do you want more out of this arrangement, then?"
"Can you give me more if I do?"
His silence was answer enough, and so slowly but surely, you were untangling your limbs from themselves on the couch, and planting your feet on the floor.
"Where are you going?" he asked as you stood up.
"Home," you replied, curtly, and he watched in a still silence as you left. 
The slam of his apartment door was loud, and it echoed throughout the hall. Feet pattered against the stairs as you descended them, quickly, because your tears were forming fast and you were attempting to beat exposure to the outside world before they started to fall down your face. 
But the universe had other plans for you, and your named reverberated throughout the final staircase you had to descend. Your lips pulled into a line in an attempt to neutralise your expression, and you turned at the base of the stairs.
"You want more with me," he said, admittedly a little breathless from chasing you the way he did. 
"Glad you could deduce that one, Doctor."
A frustrated huff left his lips. "Stop shutting me out."
"I'm not doing this here," you replied, taking another step back — that he matched, stepping down a step. "Spencer."
"No, we are. If you are going to walk out of my apartment, then we're having this conversation here."
"I don't even want to have this conversation," you argued. 
"Yes you do."
"You don't know me."
"Yes I do." When you opened your mouth to argue again, he was quick to cut you off. "You want more with me, but you're too scared of me rejecting you, so you're brushing it off as something unimportant, in hopes that I'll forget about it so things can go back to what they were before."
"God forbid."
His lips pursed. "Can you be an adult about this?" 
Your heart stuttered uncomfortably in your chest, and he stared expectingly at you for minutes. Minutes that you let pass, your breaths shallow as you stared up at him, boring holes into his own eyes. Then, "Are you going to reject me?" 
"Yes, but—"
Oh.
Somewhere your name was said once, then twice, but it all sounded far too distant, submerged underwater, maybe. Your brain muddling with every single thought it had ever conjured up in all your years of living, to the point where you couldn't even figure out if the tears burning your eyes were actually there, communications in your brain on lockdown. 
You were detached from your own body as a hand was placed on your shoulder, your eyes flickering over to Spencer's face, which was an alarming amount closer than before. It was his hand, you figured, which meant he was watching you have this breakdown, and suddenly the thought of being like this in front of him was far worse than anything he could've said to you. 
"Okay," you said, almost breathlessly, stumbling back a few steps, nodding your head, and blinking away the tears all at once. "Which is fine, by the way. Because this isn't a relationship. And we agreed on casual sex, so really, you're not doing anything surprising, and I should've expected this. Yeah."
"Can you please look at me?" You hadn't even realised your gaze was flitting around the place until he said it, and you forced your eyes to rest on his face again. "Yeah, there you go. Hi. Deep breath."
You took in the gulp of air, despite it still being shallow from your onslaught of emotions, matching your rhythm with his own. He repeated the act a few more times, until you had settled into less violent gasps, and he was sure you were grounded with him again. 
"You back with me?" he asked just in case, his voice horrifically gentle, and you wordlessly nodded your head. "Can we talk about this, now?"
"In your stairwell?"
"I don't think you want to walk all the way up to my apartment again," he said, and he was correct; you didn't. "I would reject you. That's true."
"Which you're allowed to do," you answered, quietly. 
"I am," he agreed with a nod. "If that isn't okay with you, then tell me. We can call this off right now."
"And what?" you asked, ugly emotions clawing their way up your throat again. "Go back to how things were before?"
"Well, yes—"
"—No, Spencer!" you snapped, and he seemingly hadn't expected it. At all. "I can't go back to normal with you, not after this. Sex is fucking intimate, and it is scary, and you have seen me at my absolute worst and still slept with me these last few months. You have seen parts of me I refuse to share with anyone, because I trusted you."
"I didn't force you to do that," he countered. "You showed me every single side of you on your own accord. So do not paint me to be a villain."
"I'm not trying to," your voice was desperate, and if you weren't so busy using your hands to talk animatedly, you might be tearing out your hair by now. "I just—I don't get it. How was it so casual for you? How can you go back to what we had before all of this like it's nothing?" 
"All of this was never anything serious. We agreed on that."
"No. No, don't explain what this was to me. I know what it was. Answer the question."
How was he so calm? His eyes searching your own now tear-filled ones, but the crease in his brows was the only indicator of any emotion, for his body was alarmingly relaxed. 
He exhaled, "I don't know what to tell you. What do you want to hear?"
"The truth."
"I don't have feelings for you," he said, voice so curt you wondered if it was the way he said it, or what he said, that shattered your barely mended heart. Again. 
"Which is fine," you repeated the phrase, because maybe if you said it enough, you'll start to believe it. 
"So, do you want to call this off?" 
"We should."
He only nodded in agreement; a violent reminder that you weren't imagining the things he was saying to you. This wasn't a bad dream, and he was actually telling you the relationship you had built up in your head wasn't real. 
"I don't want to," you murmured, voice pathetically small, shrinking in your shoes beneath him. "I really like you, Spencer."
"Which is why we should call this off," he reasoned, and you wanted to scream.
"Are you going to be even a little sad if we do?" He parted his lips, and a beat of silence passed. And then you were stepping back, puffing out a strained breath of air, nodding your head in understanding. "I should go."
"You won't talk to me if we call it off," he said before you could get too far from him. When you turned to look at him again, he added, "Will you?"
"No."
"Then yes. I'll be sad."
"Because I won't talk to you?"
"Yes."
You stared at him for a beat longer. "Not because you won't have a fuck buddy anymore?"
"You were never just a fuck buddy," he said, exasperated, the phrase sounding foreign on his tongue. Sorry for exasperating you.
"No. But I'm not enough to like, right?" 
He said your name, and stepped off the staircase he had been residing on, lowering the height difference between you two. "You are enough to like."
"Not to you!" "I am not the only man in the world."
The bottomless pit in your stomach grew larger, only because to you he was. To you, he was everything. And you felt things far too big, and the realisation that he had never and will never see you that way was a world-shattering discovery. 
You sighed, lowering your gaze to the floor. "We never should have started this."
"I agree." 
"I'm gonna go."
He opened his mouth, then closed it, seemingly deciding against arguing with you any more. He merely nodded his head, and forced a smile. "Yeah."
"Bye, Spencer."
your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡
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hello-from-nrc-infirmary · 15 days ago
Text
Vern's Hometown: Centennial Celebration
Book 5: Finale
Chapter 3: Sunset
Formal is irrelevant. The firelight gains prominence as daylight fades. More logs are added, allowing smoke to fill the air. The younger children slowly leave for their beds. Others stay, laughing with friends. Their joyful cacophony is almost drowned out by the rambunctious music.
Smoke and ash wisp into shadows. The kaleidoscope of prancing images twirl around them. An illusion of flowers dance underfoot. If any attempted to touch them, they would vanish.
Soot is kicked up with every step. Vern's stained skirts flare out on another spin. It's strange and comforting to have a partner. A familiar dance he can do in the deepest of sleeps now flutters anew with every beat. A few steps bring them back.
Sweat shimmers across their foreheads. The minutes and hours bleed together. One melody into another. An iridescent fish ballet weaves around the dancers. A bubbling laughter spills from Vern. Steel smiles, his own airy laugh joins in.
"What's... so funny?"
The sprite meets his gaze breathlessly, "I'm... really happy."
"Eh?"
Joined hands lift above to spin around. The area around them is barely a blurr. Focus returning to Steel, the sprite tries to calm himself. "I-is he still umm..."
"Yeah, on my six."
"... let's um... not think about him," Vern tries. His head feels light, a mild dizziness buzzes down from it.
".. okay."
He welcomes night's breath cooling his skin like autumn rain. Vern can tell when some musicians would take a break and join back in. A simple rotation, yet easy to get lost in. Forgetting the world is hard, yet indulging in a moment is effortless.
For this bubble in time, emotion vibrates the air. Colorful shapes morph to each beat. It has been too long since his muscles felt like a newborn foal finding it's footing. Who is keeping who from collapsing is unclear. The firm earth underfoot is the only certainty.
A gasp from the onlookers is nearly drowned by the rhythm. A string pulls at his mind. His eyes want to follow, yet a turn blocks his view. His brow creases as he attempts to see behind Steel. "Ver.."
Pink dusts the sprites cheeks. It's only one word, a fraction of his name. The syllables spoken softly warms him. Tearing his focus back to his friend, he tries to stay on his toes.
"Almost," Steel winks, "we have to finish this one."
"Y-yeah," Vern manages a dizzy nod. His amber eyes sting, but not from the smoke. A soothing wave rolls through his veins, easing his tension. He almost misses a familiar, icy crack.
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Chapter 4: Dusk
A tight spin jostles his focus. Flashes of magic collide. The music falters as smoke billows through the remaining crowd. Vern squeezes his eyes shut against it. Tucking himself against Steel, he waits for the air to settle. He flinches, as a drop hits his cheek.
"Er.. sorry."
The sprite swears the liquid away. Checking his bandages, he finds an inky substance he's well acquainted with.
"It's alright, I um..." he pauses, ducking as Steel casts another counter spell, "don't mind."
Sparkling green mist flares from Vern's hands. Vines burst from the ground to restrain Victor. "Enough!"
Snowflakes drift around them. Citizens that stayed murmur in uneasy awe. The spring sprite trembles slightly, his muscles begging for rest. "Do you forfeit the challenge?"
There's a rumble underfoot. Stumbling, Vern's spell loosens as spikes of ice shoot out of the dirt. He's tackled. Air is knocked from his lungs despite the cushioned fall.
"You alright? Any injuries?"
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Vern slowly blinks up at Steel, gasping while registering the questions. "U-umm... I'm fine... I think..."
"Why," Victor's voice rings out above the chaos, icicles forming in the air around him. "Why do you reject everything I do for you?!"
Ooc// Welcome to the final boss fight.
Tag List: @nrcbookclub @castaway-achlys @nightonthemountain
Songs for the dance:
There's Nothing Holding Me Back by Shawn Mendes
A Bar Song (Tipsy) by Shaboozey
I Don't Wanna Wait by David Guetta & OneRepublic
Roundtable Rival by Lindsey Stirling
Élan by Nightwish
Songs for Everyone vs. Victor:
It Ends Tonight by All-American Rejects
Liar by Jelly Roll
Ready For This by All Good Things
Trophy Hunter by Within Temptation
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4unnyr0se · 6 months ago
Text
❥ sfw & n$fw headcanons - yuu nishinoya & morisuke yaku
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warnings: timeskip! characters, fem! reader, they're sweetiepies, noya is actually a freak, roleplay, switch! noya, hickeys, spanking, mentions of unprotected sex, dom! yaku, slight breeding kink with yaku, cowgirl, doggystyle, they love you so much
MDNI | 18+ content
word count -> 2k
a/n: im sorry if yaku is ooc i wrote this at 2am and i do not feel like editing anything. n$fw is censored because i would like to keep my blog lmao
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Yuu Nishinoya - SFW
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❥ Absolutely whipped for you the second he lays his eyes upon you. You could be doing anything, literally anything, and he knew right then and there that he would die for you, no questions asked.
❥ He doesn’t really care what qualifies as a “date” as long as he gets to spend time with you. You could be folding laundry together, and he thinks it’s the most romantic date you’ve been on because you’re with him and you’re his entire world.
❥ Spontaneous. Gifts. He’ll send flowers to where you work, give you cool rocks he found while hiking or doing some other such thing, making you a care basket full of your favorite chocolates and snacks, contracting Sugawara to help him write love letters (writing is not his strong suit but he still wants to do it.)
❥ So much food, like…just so much food. You’ve been to every restaurant in town at least twice because that boy loves to eat. Even if you aren’t a big eater, he’ll still make sure you get three meals a day plus snacks. And if you struggle to eat, he’ll be so happy even if you only eat a little bit off your plate.
❥ Quality time and physical touch are his love languages, so expect to be getting kisses often. Pecks on the cheek in public, his arms wrapped around your waist from behind as you wash dishes in the sink. And if he’s jealous? He has no problem making out with you in front of people because you’re his, and the world should know.
❥ Speaking of physical touch, this man will not stop holding your hand. At least one part of him is touching a part of you at any given moment when you’re together as if he’s afraid you’d float away if he let go.
❥ Hella clingy, this man is incredibly clingy. If you get up to use the restroom when you’re cuddling, he’s waiting outside the door for you to come back so he can kiss those beautiful lips of yours. He just can’t get enough!
❥ Obsessed with you and everything that you do. Did you sneeze? He’s on the verge of tears because you look so fucking cute when you sneeze. Did you buy a new outfit? He’s throwing a tantrum until you model it for him so he can shower you with praise. Noya worships the ground you walk on and them some. 
❥ Lowkey possessive but in a good way. Deep down, he’s worried that you’ll leave him for someone taller or better than he is, so he gets a tiny bit jealous when he sees someone talking to you that he considers a threat. Of course, you’re free to do whatever you like. He would never tell you what you can and cannot do. He respects you too much for that. But he will talk to you about his feelings because he’s mature like that.
N$FW
❥ So. Many. Hickeys. This ties into the part of him being possessive. He wants to let everyone know that you’re his, and what better way to show you off than by parading you around town with your neck and chest covered in little red and purple bruises? You’ve nearly gone bankrupt on buying just concealer because once a hickey fades away, a new one will take its place in no time at all.
❥ Literally anything the two of you do will end in him fucking you or vice versa. If you bend down to pick something up, his hands are groping your ass, and he’s pulling down your panties and shoving his fingers into your pussy, all the while whispering the filthiest things in your ear. 
❥ This motherfucker whines and whimpers, and he’s so incredibly loud about it. The second he shoves his dick inside, he becomes a babbling, pussydrunk mess that’s only focused on you cumming all over his cock.
❥ Noya is 100% a switch who doesn’t lean towards being submissive or dominant. He just does whatever you want him to. Do you want him to fuck you stupid for hours on end? He’s down for that? Do you want to tie him up, blindfold him, and ride him until he can’t think. Also completely down for that. 
❥ Endless stamina. As long as you’re up for it, he can fuck you for the entire day. He simply doesn’t believe in a recovery period on his end. He’ll fuck you from sunrise to sunset. All you have to do is ask.
❥ Tits man 100%. Noya loves tits, no matter the size or shape. If you have huge tits, he’s fondling them as he takes you from behind. Medium-sized tits? He sucks on them as you ride his cock, relishing in the taste. Small tits? He plays with your pert nipples as he fucks you missionary. All tits are good tits in his eyes
.❥ Highly experimental in the bedroom. He’ll try anything and everything if it means you both get to feel good. From you pegging him to him filming your third orgasm of the night, he’s down for whatever. The only things he isn’t okay with are hitting you (impact play) and sharing you with others. He will casually slap your ass but that’s as far as he’ll go. He just can’t bring himself to hit you, even if it turns you on.
❥ Could eat you out for literal days and not get tired, not even for one second. He wants you cumming on his tongue and pulling on his hair as you beg him for more, and he’ll give it to you.
❥ Focuses on your pleasure, not his own. You’re his goddess and he’d do anything to serve you, anything to make you cum again and again.
❥ Has a whole index of kinks, but his top ones are roleplay and passionate sex. Dress up as a teacher, and he’ll cum in his pants, begging on you to punish him for failing your class.
❥ Loves to make love to you.
❥ “Yeah? You like it when I fuck you with my fingers, angel? M’gonna make you cum so fucking much for me, my perfect angel.”
❥ “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight. Can’t get enough of this dick, can you baby? Gotta fuck you stupid.”
❥ “More, I want more! I’ve been so bad, I deserve to be punished, ma’am!”
❥ “Talk to the camera for me, angel. Tell the camera how many times my cock made this pussy squirt all over the sheets.”
❥ “Gonna fucking cum inside, can’t pull out. Oh, fuck, baby, you’re fucking milking me dry, shit.”
❥ “Faster, fuck me faster! Wanna fucking cum so bad, please! I’ve been good, right?”
Morisuke Yaku - SFW
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❥ Loves when you get an attitude with him because he also has an attitude. He loves when you talk back to him and when you tell him how you really feel, it’s just so refreshing. Honesty is very important to Yaku.
❥ You and Yaku basically continue to mother Lev well after you’re both graduated. Lev will call and text you for advice and you’ll gladly help him, even if Yaku gets a little jealous that you’re paying more attention to the oversized Russian than you are to your own boyfriend.
❥ Takes you on the most romantic restaurant dates ever. He has professional athlete money, so order whatever the hell you like! If you want five lobsters, get five lobsters. As long as his baby is happy.
❥ Spoils you rotten, but he won’t ever admit it. If you point out a cute necklace that you saw in a magazine, it’s there when you wake up the next morning. Yaku will pretend to not know how it got there, but he knows, obviously. Expect lots of expensive gifts when you’re dating, especially from designer brands. Half of your closet is Chanel and you sure as hell aren’t complaining.
❥ Not that big on PDA, but will wrap an arm around your waist in public. Since he’s a well-known libero in the Russian Volleyball League, he gets approached on the street sometimes. He doesn’t want to draw too much attention to himself (especially if you hate getting attention from strangers, so he holds off on kissing you until you’re in the privacy of his penthouse apartment.
❥ Pleads and begs until you adopt a cat together. He just wants a cat with you, any cat will do. It can be a cat you found in a dumpster or a cat that cost someone’s entire yearly salary, he just wants a cat to raise with you by his side.
❥ Wraps his arms around your waist as you cook and leave kisses on your neck. Whether you’re taller or shorter from him, get ready for hugs and kisses from behind.
❥ If you struggle with your body image, he’ll kiss away all your insecurities. His lips will be on yours for hours as he tells you how perfect you are, and how much he loves you. He’ll kiss away your tears as you start crying as well, because to him you are perfect.
N$FW
❥ Not very vocal in bed, but he does make plenty of grunts and groans. The only time you’ll ever really hear him moan is when you bite down on his incredibly sensitive neck, which will make him cum on the spot.
❥ Advocate for safe and healthy sex but prefers to hit it raw. He’ll use a condom if you want him to, he isn’t a monster. But the way you react when his cum fills out of your womb makes him want to wife you up and fuck you every single day.
❥ Designer lingerie is his weakness, especially the ones with garters that squeeze your thigh beautifully. If you wear red lingerie around him, be prepared to not be able to walk tomorrow because he will ruin your pussy.
❥ 100% a pleasure dom. Nothing makes him happier than knowing that he fucks you so good each and every night that you can’t even get off without his help anymore because that’s how much he loves to fuck you.
❥ Ass man. His hands will be on your ass all the time and you just have to accept it. He loves to fuck you from behind because he’s mesmerized by the way your ass moves as he fucks you. His favorite position is doggystyle.
❥ A weird turn-on for him is when you walk around wearing his jersey. He fucking loves it when you wear his jersey, and he can see your lacy panties poking out under the shirt, it drives him wild. If you wear his jersey, he gets an instant boner.
❥ Sit. In. His. Lap. Sit in his lap and dry hump him. He needs it so badly. He loves watching as you struggle to get off on his thigh. You look so cute when you’re desperate.
❥ Definitely a brat tamer. He loves it when you have an attitude because he gets to fuck it out of you later, spanking you as he tells you how much of a brat you are and how you need to learn your lesson. You never do.
❥ Mirror sex. He’s mesmerized by how adorable you look in the mirror as your pussy struggles to take his girthy cock.
❥ “Yeah? Look at yourself in the mirror, princess. Look at how your slutty little pussy is taking me. You’re such a little slut, you’re my little slut.”
❥ “Did you think you could just walk around in my jersey and nothing else? Bend over, princess, right fucking now.”
❥ “I’m so fucking close, shit. You want me to cum inside you, princess? Want me to fill you up and give you my babies? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
❥ “Fuck, you know what red does to me. So fucking slutty for me, babygirl. Now get on the bed and spread those legs nice and wide like a good girl.”
❥ “Take it, fucking take it. That’s my good girl. I love it when you behave for me, princess. Can I get another one of you, my love? I think you can handle another orgasm.”
❥ “You look so pretty when you cum, princess. Do you like how your Morisuke makes you feel? Use your words, princess.”
545 notes · View notes
iomoru · 4 months ago
Text
⚠︎ Caught Off Guard ⚠︎
A/n: school is so stressing I might end up taking a long break from writing
Genre: Canon Verse, Fluff, Little Suggestive, G!n Reader, Char! x Reader, Some of the characters might be ooc, Second Person, Proofread
Chars!: Xiao, Wanderer/Scara, Kazuha, Heizou, Albedo, Sethos
Summary: You and character were about to share a private moment, but things take a sudden turn when someone unexpectedly interrupts. Embarrassed and frustrated, you find yourself in an awkward situation when you realize character forgot to lock the door. As character apologizes and offers to continue, you're no longer in the mood. Instead, you both settle for cuddling, letting the moment pass but finding comfort in each other.
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Xiao (Interrupted by Hu Tao):
You and Xiao were in a rare moment of vulnerability, your breath hitching as things heated up. However, before you could lose yourself in the moment, the door slid open with a sharp sound.
“Oh! Sorry, sorry! Didn’t mean to interrupt~” Hu Tao’s sing-song voice echoed before she shut the door as fast as she came in, leaving the two of you stunned.
Your face flared up in embarrassment. “Xiao, You didn’t lock the door.”
Xiao blinked, his usual stoic expression cracking ever so slightly as he realized the mistake. “I…forgot.”
You huffed, burying your face in your hands. “Now I’m not in the mood anymore.”
He looked guilty, his golden eyes softening. “Do you...want me to leave.?”
You glanced at him, your irritation fading as you sighed. “No…Let’s just cuddle, I need to calm down.”
Xiao, still stiff from earlier, nodded and gently pulled you into his arms, his touch a quiet apology.
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Wanderer (Interrupted by Nahida):
Just as you were about to get closer, the door creaked open. “Wanderer, I wanted to—oh!” Nahida stood there, wide-eyed before she quickly turned around. “I’ll come back later!”
You were mortified, heat rushing to your face. Wanderer let out a long sigh, leaning his head back in frustration.
“How hard is it to lock a door?” you muttered, still reeling from the embarrassment.
He glanced at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “I wasn’t exactly thinking about that.”
You gave him an annoyed look, crossing your arms. “Well, I’m definitely not in the mood anymore.”
He rolled his eyes but softened, shifting his position so he could wrap his arms around you. “Fine, cuddling works, too.”
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Kazuha (Interrupted by Beidou):
The gentle sway of the ship added a rhythm to the moment between you and Kazuha. But just as you leaned in, the door banged open.
“Oi, Kazuha!—Oh, uh, never mind!” Beidou quickly backed out, leaving the door half-open.
Your cheeks burned as you sat back, glaring at the samurai. “Kazuha…the door.”
He chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I forgot, my apologies.”
“Well, now the mood is ruined.” you sighed, running a hand through your hair.
Kazuha’s expression softened as he reached out to you. “How about we just sit by the deck and enjoy the sunset instead?”
You couldn’t stay mad at him, especially when he suggested something so peaceful. “Well that sounds good too I guess..”
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Heizou (Interrupted by a Colleague):
Heizou had a mischievous grin on his face, but before things could go any further, there was a loud knock and a colleague’s voice from the other side of the door.
“Detective Heizou! I need to talk to you about—oh, wait. Am I interrupting something?”
You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as Heizou groaned, leaning back against the wall. “Yeah, kind of.”
The colleague quickly muttered an apology and left, leaving the two of you in awkward silence.
You glared at Heizou. “You didn’t lock the door.”
He raised an eyebrow, still grinning. “Didn’t expect someone to barge in.”
“Well, I’m definitely not in the mood now.”
He laughed softly, brushing a hand through your hair. “How about we just cuddle later when we get home?”
You sighed but leaned into his touch. “Fine, but you owe me for this.”
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Albedo (Interrupted by Klee):
Albedo’s laboratory was usually a quiet place, but today it seemed fate had other plans. Just as the moment became intimate, the door creaked open.
“Albedo! I—oh!” Klee quickly covered her eyes, giggling as she realized she had walked in on something. “I’ll come back later!”
You felt your face heat up, immediately pulling away from Albedo. “You forgot to lock the door.”
He blinked in surprise, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “Ah, I see. Apologies.”
You shook your head, trying to get over the embarrassment. “Yeah, well…now I’m not in the mood.”
Albedo gave you a soft, understanding smile and reached out to pull you close. “Would you..like to cuddle instead?”
You couldn’t manage to stay mad at him for too long. “Alright fine, let’s do that.”
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Sethos (Interrupted by a Random Person):
Just as things started to get intense, the door opened abruptly. “Oh, I didn’t mean to—uh, sorry!” The stranger awkwardly shuffled back out, leaving the door ajar.
You sat up, covering your face with your hands in pure embarrassment. “Sethos, you didn’t lock the door!”
Sethos chuckled, clearly not as flustered as you. “My bad,”
You glared at him. “Well, now I’m not in the mood.”
He sighed dramatically but nodded. “Fair enough, how about we just cuddle instead?”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Alright, but this is your fault.”
Sethos grinned and pulled you close. “I’ll make it up to you.”
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A/n: lmao might just quit writing bc of stupid school (I'm going insane atp)
© ²⁰²⁴ ɪᴏᴍᴏʀᴜ ✰ do not repost, translate, plagiarize, use to train ai, or share my work on other social media platforms.
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r4fe-cam3ron · 24 days ago
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— YOU WERE THE BEST, BUT YOU WERE THE WORST. | ex-boyfriend!r. cameron x reader
warnings; this is not canon to ‘outer banks’! this will definitely be a slight ooc rafe, slight fluff (short lived, i’m so sorry), hurt, no comfort </3, angst this is so long i apologize.
an; starting off my exbf!rafe masterlist RIGHT (hopefully, maybe) with this piece. honestly don’t know where the plot came from </3 i was thinking of what to right and was listening to ‘i love you, im sorry’ and it popped up in my head thankfully. feel free to leave requests for rafe/ex!rafe as well! but again — i am only on the second season sadly (soon i’ll be on the third! i’m just bad about watching shows). so any rafe requests will pertain to s1 & s2 as of right now! okay, i am done ranting - apologies </3
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Double date night - something that you rarely look forward to, even if it’s just once every four months. Especially since it’s still slightly awkward between John B and Rafe, though, you don’t mind the boy. And you love spending time with Sarah. 
Sarah glances at you from the other side of the table, lifting her brows slightly. “We’ll be right back.” She stands from her chair, holding her hand out towards yours. You take her hand, standing with a small smile. 
“You both have to go at the same time?” Rafe asks, brows pinched slightly as he glances between the two of you, crystal blues lingering on you. John B discreetly nods in agreement. 
“Yes,” Sarah answers before you could say anything. “You wouldn’t understand. We’ll be back in five,” She pulls you with her but stops and turns once again. “Try not killing one another while we’re gone.” Her eyes stay on Rafe longer than John B. 
“Mhm.” He waves his hand, slumping back into his chair slightly. Sarah grins and pulls you towards the bathroom once again, stepping inside. 
“So?” She drops your hand. You turn towards her. “Did you open it?” 
“No,” You shake your head quickly. “I don’t…” Sighing, your shoulders drop. “I don’t know how to tell Rafe I even sent in an application,” Sarah’s smile slowly fades and her head tilts slightly. 
“He thinks I agreed on staying here with him while Ward is giving him more opportunities. After a year,” You lean against the sink. “I don’t know if he’ll be happy about it. Especially with it being so far.” 
“It’s a six hour drive,” Sarah deadpans. You stare down at the ground. Sure, it wasn’t that far. But you’d truly be homesick. She leans next to you. “Who knows, he might go with you.” 
“Yeah, right,” You scoff. “His home is here. He’s made that clear already, Sarah. Besides, I don’t even know if I’m going to go.” 
Sarah stares at you - eyes narrowed. “This is your future,” She points at you. “Rafe…he loves you,” She nods, face softening. “And he wants the best for you. He’ll understand. But the longer you wait to tell him…” She trails off, lips pressing into a tight line. 
You sigh and nod. Rafe will be, well, angry - even if the anger would be unnecessary. “I’ll talk to him,” You nod. “But, it’ll only be just a…hypothetical question I’ll ask.” 
Sarah groans slightly, shaking her head. “Insufferable, I tell you,” She mutters, pushing her hair back. “Alright, let’s get back out there so they’re not alone much longer.” 
You nod and follow her back to the table, sitting back down next to Rafe. His arm slings around the back of your chair within a matter of seconds and you lean into the touch, goosebumps raising slightly from where the tips of his fingers trace across your arm. 
Fumbling with your fingers on your lap, you’re unaware of how zoned out you are. 
You’ve always wanted to go to college - prove and make something of yourself and not end up like another woman on Kildare Island who marries for money and then stays in an unhappy relationship with a man who could care less if she even went missing. 
Your mother and father as an example. 
You’re not unhappy with Rafe, and you also know he’d do anything for you if you asked him - the food on his plate, the shirt off his back, anything. 
But, again, this is a chance to prove yourself - especially after many demeaning comments made in passing by friends or family. They always burned even if you laughed them off, nodding in agreement, then cry yourself to sleep that night. 
University of Georgia. Sarah was right. It was only a six hour drive - you could come back on weekends and stay. Yet, you still weren't sure if you’d gotten in. The letter was on your desk, sealed, and waiting to be ripped open with anxious hands. 
“You okay?” You blink a couple of times, looking over to meet Rafe’s gaze, his face melted with slight worry. 
“Yeah,” You smile softly. Sarah watches quietly. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just tired.” You whisper softly. 
Rafe nods and takes that as his cue, reaching into his wallet. “Here’s our half,” He passes Sarah the cash. “I have work early in the morning, so we are gonna go ahead and head out.” 
Sarah nods and stands, pulling you into a hug as Rafe stands off to the side, waiting patiently, though his stance was awkward. “Text me.” She whispers. You only nod, pulling away. 
“Bye, John B.” You wave as Rafe’s arm wraps around your waist, pulling you towards the exit. John B waves with a soft smile. 
You shiver when you step outside. “Dude is so weird,” Rafe mumbles, shaking his head as he pulls open the door for you. “Didn’t even talk the whole time you and Sarah were in the bathroom.” 
You roll your eyes and look at him. “Did you even try talking to him?” 
His bottom lip pushes out slightly as he shakes his head. “Nope,” He shuts the door and you watch as he rounds the truck, getting into the driver's side, quickly starting the engine. “Seat-warmer? On or off?” 
“On, please,” You watch as his finger presses the button. “And how do you expect him to start a conversation when he doesn’t know what to talk about with you?” 
“He could’ve said or asked anything. I’m an open book - I’ll let you know if I want to talk about it or not.” 
You hum and nod, leaning your head back into the headrest as your eyes slowly close. 
“Hey,” Slowly opening your eyes, you peek over at him. “Are you okay? You seem…” He trails off, trying and thinking of a word that doesn't seem offensive. “off?” 
“Oh,” You nod, reaching your hand over to grab him. He grips softly three times. “Yeah. I’m okay.” 
Rafe stares at you quietly. He knows you’re lying but he’s not the type to push unless it truly affects him. You’ll come to him when you want to talk about whatever is on your mind. 
Nodding, he squeezes your hand back three times. A smile pulls at your lips as your eyes drop to your hands. 
“I’ll be back. I’m gonna go grab something to drink,” You step out of the bathroom, dressy clothes switched for one of Rafe’s shirts and some shorts - movie attire. “You want anything?” He shakes his head and puts his phone down on the nightstand. 
“I’m good.” 
Nodding, you walk down the steps, leaving Rafe alone in your room. You move quickly, grabbing a water bottle from the refrigerator and a pack of gummy’s that were still in the bag from the quick grocery run you both had made earlier. 
Jogging back up the steps, you smile and kick your door shut gently. “Did you find a—” You stop when you see Rafe closer than expected, standing by your desk with an envelope in his hand. 
He holds it up. “What is this?” 
You shift, gulping quietly and averting your gaze but quickly look back. “Uhm…a letter.” 
“Yeah,” He scoffs, stepping closer. “I see that it’s a letter. When did you even apply?” 
You lift your right shoulder - a quick shrug, eyes now looking at the envelope he now holds rather than his face. “F…four months ago?” You wince, peeking up at him quickly before looking back down. “I was going to tell you—”
“Oh, you were?” 
“Yes,” You quickly nod. “Yes, I was. I haven’t even opened it. But even if I did get in, I don’t know if I’d truly go, Rafe. You’re overreacting.” 
“You never even told me you wanted to go to college,” He shakes his head, fingers itching to either crumble the letter or rip it. He was trying to hold it together. “We had a plan, remember?” 
“What plan? The one where we stay here while you work and I stay home and do the same thing over and over everyday? Have a kid or two?” Your eyes now lift to look at him. 
“Yes! That one,” He holds his arms out towards you. “The one we both agreed too.” 
“I never agreed to that. You made that plan yourself and just filled me in on it - never once asking what I wanted,” You scoff, pushing past him. “If you truly believed that’s what I wanted, you don’t know me at all.” 
“Then tell me what you actually want.” 
“I want a life!” You drop the stuff in your hands onto your mattress, turning towards him. “A life! One where…where I get a degree in something I enjoy! Or even own a little shop and sell…antiques or food or whatever,” 
“I don’t even know if I want kids, Rafe. I want…” You trail off, looking at him as you feel your eyes begin to sting. Don’t cry, don’t cry, do not cry. “I want someone who wants to…move, explore, do something that they want instead of listening to their parents because they think it’ll make them happy.” 
“You think I’m working there just to make my dad happy? You don’t think working there makes me happy?” 
It doesn’t. He’s been more angry - even at the littlest things. He looks more drained, tired. He doesn’t enjoy it, but if it gets his fathers praise or attention, he’ll do it. 
“No. I don’t,” You shake your head. You debated on even answering that question, but you notice how his expression changes slightly, the anger wavering. You step closer, staring up at him. “I know you aren’t happy, because I know you,” You place your hands on his chest softly. 
“I know you. But you don’t even know what I want.”
Rafe is silent now. You notice he’s grasping at straws to find something to say. Something to fight back with. You wait patiently, allowing him to conjure up something. 
“Me,” He lands on, brows slightly pinching together. You notice how tears line his waterline. “Me. You want me. A life with me.” 
“I do…I do so badly, Rafe,” You whisper, hands lifting to cup his cheeks. The tears roll down his cheeks now. He rarely ever cries. “But I also don’t want a life like my mom and dad,” Your thumbs push away at the tears. 
“I can’t have you getting upset or angry with me because I want to do something with my life,” You drop your chin slightly to follow his eyes when he looks away. “Georgia isn’t far away and you’re acting as if it is.” 
“That’s not…” His jaw clenches and he pulls away from your hold. You drop your hands by your side, watching as his eyes shut and he forcibly shakes his head quickly. “No. You’re being confusing. I’m not…I’m not angry or upset with this,” He holds up the letter. 
“I’m angry that you didn’t even want to talk to me about it.” 
“I have,” His head quickly turns to look at you. “I’ve told you so many times, Rafe, that I wanted to go. Because of how many times I’ve been told I’m not even smart enough to get into a school like that - that I’ll end up just like them.” 
“That’s being hypocritical, don’t you think?” 
Your face drops into confusion, head tilting. “What?” 
“You want to go to college to…prove yourself or whatever,” He waves his hand in the air. “But…you’re telling me I’m working for my dad because I want to get his praise or attention.” 
“That’s different—”
“It’s not any different,” His voice raises slightly, your mouth quickly shutting and eyes darting away as your arms cross over your chest. “We both want to prove ourselves to our parents and whoever else has doubted what we could do,” It feels weird to Rafe to admit that out loud. 
He looks down at the letter and holds it out towards you. Your eyes glance at him before his outstretched arm. “Open it.” 
Your eyes quickly look at him once again. Hesitantly, you reach out and pull the sealed letter from his grasp. Flipping it over, you try not to seem too desperate when ripping it open. The envelope falls to the ground as you unfold the paper, eyes darting over the words. 
Congratulations. 
Congratulations. 
A smile pulls at your lips, eyes looking up at Rafe who stands there, watching quietly. “I got in,” You whisper. He nods slightly and looks down at the paper that shakes slightly in your grasp. “I got in.” You voice a little louder, looking back at the letter. The tears that finally break loose and slide down your cheeks, drop onto the paper. 
“Congratulations.” Rafe nods. You quickly look back at him, placing the paper on your desk, stepping closer. 
“You could come with me,” You nod quickly, smiling softly as your hands cup his cheeks once again. “Yeah. You could come with me. We could get a small apartment close to the college - I wouldn’t have to live on campus,” 
He stares at you quietly. “We could actually live together. Come down every two or three weeks to visit friends and whoever else,” Your smile would usually be contagious - now it just makes him angry. Your touch is making it feel as if you’re burning him. 
“We could also stay for the weekend since it’s only a six hour drive,” You let out a small laugh, dropping your hands to his shoulders. “Rafe, come on. Act a little more—”
“What, happy?” His tone causes the smile to slip from your lips. His hands lift to wrap around your wrist, pushing your touch away from him. 
“Well, yeah,” You stare at him. “I’m…I’m telling you we could actually live together in our own space and you’re not even…” You trail off. 
“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly too happy that you decided it would be okay for me to just uproot my life from here to go with you.” Oh, Rafe, shut up, shut up, shut up.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” 
“That I’m not doing that!” He throws his hands up. “I’m not leaving everything behind here that I’ve slowly worked through! Dad would never let me hear the end of it.” 
“Is this about me or your dad? Do you not remember when you used to come here just because he would kick you out for weeks before even letting you come back home?” Your own voice begins to raise. “Do you seriously trust him enough to work with him or is it just for the money that he is able to provide?” 
His jaw clenches and he shakes his head. “I don’t have to listen to this,” He walks past you and grabs the duffle bag that sits on your chair. You turn and watch him, lips parting as he begins to stuff his things into his bag. “I don’t have to listen to your version of a ‘perfect life’ when I can have that.” 
It’s like he’s trying to convince himself that he would still have that perfect life when you decide to leave everything behind - leave him behind. 
“You don’t think we could build something up together and have that be perfect?” You walk over towards him as he turns. He stops and stares down at you. “You don’t think we could build our own home together? Something better than here?” 
His lips pull into a tight line so he doesn’t say something he regrets. He steps into the bathroom, removing his stuff before stepping back towards his back. 
“Rafe…” You watch him. “Rafe, please. Why are you being like this? I just want you to talk—”
“I’m angry because you can leave but I can’t!” He turns towards you. You stumble back slightly but quickly regain composure, eyes widened slightly. “You can leave everything behind and you’ll be fine. But if I do…” He lets out a laugh which sounds more like a scoff before shaking his head. “I’m not you. I care too much.” 
“You…” You watch as he zips up his bag. “You think I don’t care? Why do you think I wanted you to come with me?!” 
“Money.” 
The anger that builds in your chest makes you feel as if you’re sweating profusely. “I would never be with you just because of the money and you know it, Rafe,” You jab your finger into his chest. “I love you! That’s why I wanted you to come with me! This whole argument could’ve been avoided if you’d just understand me!” 
“Yeah, well,” He grabs his keys from your desk. “You said you didn’t want to end up like your parents.” 
“Rafe, don’t do this,” You step closer. “You’re being irrational for no reason.” 
He glances back at you one last time - watches how your lip quivers, eyes pleading with him. “Please.” You whisper. His eyes drift over towards your desk, the letter on top taunting him. 
He steps out of your room, slamming the door behind himself. You stand there, staring at the closed door waiting for the moment he steps back in, laughing in your face about how he got you and you’d punch him in the arm. The night would continue with a movie and sour gummy worms. 
Yeah. That sounds perfect. 
But the sound of the front door opening and closing downstairs and the start of his truck has that wish shattering. You rush towards your window, peeking out the curtains. His tires squeal on the pavement as he backs out and speeds off. 
Pulling back, you slowly walk towards your bed and sit on the edge. Your eyes stare at the floor as your hands rest in your lap. Your heart beats uncomfortably fast. 
You slowly reach for your phone, immediately texting Sarah to come over. 
After the texts she sent go unanswered, she’s there within ten minutes and running up the steps. Opening the door, her eyes dart around the room, before they land on you. 
You slowly look over at her. “I got in.” 
Her smile is immediately, mouth parting to speak but she quickly stops when she watches your face crumble, a sob leaving your throat. The door shuts and she quickly walks over, pulling you close to her.
You cry until your eyes are heavy and your throat hurts. You pull away slowly and Sarah looks at you sadly. Your eyes linger on her skin, reaching over and wiping away your tears that had fallen, making a slight face. “I’m sorry.” 
“Don’t apologize,” She shakes her head, reaching for your hand. “What happened?”
The explanation was hard to get through, some tears and pauses along the way but Sarah nods, face remaining morphed into sadness. 
“Then he left.” 
Sarah lets out a small sigh. “I mean, he was rejected from that college. Maybe he’s just…” Your brows furrow slightly, head tilting. “Maybe he’s angry at himself - which doesn’t excuse—”
“Wait,” You quickly cut her off. “What do you mean, he was rejected from that college? When did Rafe even apply?” 
She stares at you quietly. “Uh,” She shifts. She thought Rafe might’ve told you - she thought wrong. “He applied last year. He was so excited when he got the letter. He had me open it because he was so nervous,”
Looking down at the loose thread on Sarah’s shorts, you frown at the thought of Rafe being excited then learning that it wasn’t what he was expecting. “He thought I was being mean,” Sarah nods. “I actually felt bad for him. He was…Rafe is smart - when he puts his mind to it. He had the grades for it. Especially when you two started talking,” 
Your eyes lift and she smiles sadly. “He hammered down then,” She nods. “Dad offered to, uh…” She shifts uncomfortably and messes with the bracelet on your wrist. “He offered to pay the school a lump sum of money.” 
“Rafe told him no, because he wanted to get in without that kind of help,” Sarah nods. “Dad laughed. He told Rafe he wasn’t sure why he thought he would be able to get in. He left for four days after that.” 
Thinking back, you remember one time when Rafe had come to your home closer to his graduation. He seemed more sad than what he usually did. When he stepped in, he mumbled some excuse about Rose wanting him out. 
“I never knew any of that. He didn’t tell me.” 
“I know,” Sarah nods. “That still doesn’t give him any right to say and do what he did to you though.” 
You nod, looking towards the picture frame on your dresser, shoulders dropping slightly. “I don’t know if I can leave now.” 
“Hey, no,” Sarah grabs your face and turns it back, lowering them to your shoulders once you’re staring at him. “You’re not backing out on this. This is your chance to have a future. You can talk to Rafe, but do not let him change your mind about going.” 
“This could’ve been avoided, Sarah.” Your lip quivers and head shakes. 
“It could’ve,” She agrees with a small nod. “But him seeing that letter did not need to cause this,” She motions towards your face. Did not need to cause crying for almost an hour straight. “He has every reason to be upset or jealous - whatever he feels. But he should feel happy for you.This is a big accomplishment.” 
Nodding a bit, you smile softly. “I’ll try talking to him,” She nods. “Thank you for coming. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 
She smiles. “Not a lot.” She teases. 
You laugh softly, leaning your cheek over onto her arm that remains close to you. “Do you mind staying?” You whisper. 
“Not at all.”
| FOUR MONTHS LATER. 
| I know you’re not speaking to me. But I'd really like to see you before I leave. 
| Say a proper goodbye. 
| Please come with Sarah. 
READ AT 12:30PM. 
Your heart breaks but it’s something you’ve grown used to over the four months away from Rafe. Quickly dropping your phone, you look over when the door opens. 
Your mom smiles softly when she sees you folding a shirt, stuffing it into a suitcase. You’re leaving some clothes home, in your room, but taking some with you. Your dad had given you a free range of spending after learning about getting accepted. 
That’s the first time you’ve ever felt as if he was proud of you. 
“I can’t believe you're leaving me,” You turn and send your mom a small smile. “I’ll be home every four weeks unless something important comes up. And for holidays. You could also come see me.” 
“I don’t like driving and neither does your dad, you know that,” There’s something that wavers in her voice that has a frown pulling at your lips and fingers gripping the material you hold. She steps closer and clears her throat. “Are you sure you want to leave early?” 
You stare at her quietly for a moment as you actually think about backing out of this whole thing. You wanted to leave a month early so you can explore a new place, maybe meet some new friends. But you also didn’t want to leave everyone else behind. 
But you wanted to leave everyone behind at the same time. 
A part of you felt bad for leaving your mom - although another part doesn’t. She never really showed she cared, but maybe that wasn’t her fault. 
“I’m sure. I want to make sure I know where everything is,” You nod, turning back to your bag. You finish with the shirt in your hand, zipping up your bag. “Sarah, John B, and everyone's on their way to say bye.” 
She doesn’t know about the fight with Rafe. And you did not want to tell her - she’d find some way to blame you for it. 
You also didn’t feel like crying once again. 
She nods and smiles softly. “Come with me. Your dad said he’d get your bags.” 
You're surprised, but nod and follow behind her down the steps. Your dad was in the kitchen, giving you a small smile in passing before he walked upstairs. 
You turn your attention back, eyes dropping to a box. “What’s this?” 
“A care package,” She nods. You eye it before looking at her. “Do you…remember those homemade cookies we used to make with one another?” 
“Oh, I don’t—”
“I made some,” She quickly cuts you off. You, of course, remember making those cookies. They were the best cookies you’ve ever tasted - nothing has yet to top them yet. You were smush surprised she even made them. “Last night. I was…I was up late making this with some of the other snacks you used to like as well.” 
You pull the box closer, opening it and peeking inside. Your heart stops for a moment before glancing up. “Mom—”
She circles around and grabs your biceps softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there the most when you needed me,” Your eyes begin to sting. “When you were older. I should’ve stuck up more for you and been there. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 
She pulls you towards her quickly, squeezing you tightly. You can’t remember the last time you hugged either one of your parents. Not one of those side hugs, or hugs that you do for a family portrait and quickly pull away after the flash goes off. 
An actual bone-crushing hug. 
Your arms slowly wrap around her, before your eyes slowly squeeze shut, moving closer. 
“My baby,” She whispers, pulling away and pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m so sorry.” 
You smile softly, shaking your head quickly. “It’s okay.” You whisper, breath shuddering slightly as you wipe your tears with the back of your hand. She reaches up and wipes at your other cheek. 
“I’m so, so proud of you, you know?” 
It’s strange. The words she says have your face crumbling and another shaky breath escaping you. You never knew if she was truly ever proud of you or not - you still wasn’t for sure, the words could just be in the moment - but it still renders you breathless all the same. 
You jump slightly when you hear a honk outside. Your eyes dart towards the front door before glancing at your mom. She nods. “I’ll get your dad to carry this out too.” 
You nod and start to walk out of the kitchen. You pause and turn back around, hugging her tightly. “I love you, Mom.” You whisper softly. 
Her arms tighten once more for a second before releasing slightly. “I love you, sunshine.” Suddenly, you’re a little girl again, beaming at her when you pull away. 
You quickly walk outside, smiling softly when you see the people who are standing outside, waiting by your car. Walking over, JJ is the first to see you. 
“Hello, Miss Georgia.” He grins, walking over. Everyone glances over. You embrace him in a hug, smiling softly. 
“Hello, JJ,” You laugh softly, pulling away. “Thanks for coming. Sorry that it’s gonna be a short goodbye too - I want to get going before traffic hits.” 
“Then we better get to it,” Topper says from the side. “There’s a concert going on today.” 
You hum softly and hug JJ once again, patting his back softly. “Don’t get yourself into too much trouble.” 
“No promises.” It sounds like he sniffles at the end, but you pull away to hug Pope next as JJ turns and fixes his hat. 
“Make good choices and study.” He reminds you. You pull away and stare at him, grinning. 
“You’re so studious, Pope.” 
He smiles softly and pulls you into another quick hug, patting your back before moving to stand next to JJ. You hug Topper and Kelce next - a side hug, but it was still nice of them to come tell you goodbye. 
You hug Kiara next, promising to text her and send her pictures of the sunsets - mountains, too, if you go hiking. 
John B gives you a small smile. Sarah pushes him slightly. “She doesn’t bite,” She shakes her head. “Well—”
“Hush, Sarah,” You warn, hugging John B. You lower your voice. “Take care of her, okay?” 
He nods and steps away. You smile at Sarah and hug her tightly, feeling her fingers grip at the material of your shirt. “I’m sorry he didn’t come. I tried.” She whispers. 
You nod. “It’s okay…” You whisper. Pulling away, you smile and take a look at everyone. 
“I love you guys,” You nod. “Thanks for being here. It means a lot.” 
“Anything for you,” JJ smiles. “But we can’t watch you leave. Otherwise, we will follow you.” 
Letting out a small laugh, you nod. “Then you guys better go. I’m about to leave after I tell mom and dad bye.” You motion over your shoulder. 
They all walk towards their cars, goodbye’s and ‘I’ll see you soon’ filling the space. You watch as everyone disappears before turning. You see both your mom and dad standing and waiting patiently. Walking over, you smile. 
“Okay…I guess this is the part where we hug and I promise you I’ll see you both soon?” 
The man chuckles and pulls you close. “Exactly,” He pats your back, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You allow yourself to be selfish and indulge in his attention. “I love you. Text when you get there, okay?” 
You nod. “I will. Thank you, dad.” 
He presses another quick kiss to the top of your head, pulling away. You step towards your mom first, pulling her into another tight hug. “Call me whenever you need to. When you want to come back.” She whispers. 
You smile and nod. “I will. I love you.” You feel her nod and you pull away from the both of them, walking towards your car and slipping inside. You glance in your rearview mirror, watching as your mom lingers on the doorstep as your dad passes by, stepping inside. You frown slightly. 
The attention he had given you was short lived. 
Sighing, you turn on your car and hover your thumb over the START button on maps. Your eyes lift once again towards the house. The door shuts once again. 
Your eyes begin to sting as you look away once again, clicking the button. 
“In .3 miles, make a left…” 
Rafe pauses as he watches your car make a quick left, disappearing from his view. Rubbing at his face, he looks over at the packed bags in his passenger seat. 
He backed out. 
He packed his bags. Drove to your home to see if the offer still stands - to see if you still wanted him to go with you. Then he stopped before he even pulled into the driveway. 
He didn’t know why he couldn’t push himself to do it, no matter how many times he kept saying that’s what he wanted. He wanted you. He wanted to make a home with you. Have that perfect life that you believed in. 
He didn’t know what was holding him back. 
Starting up his truck, he stares at the mailbox in front of your house. He clears his throat and quickly pulls into the driveway, getting out and making his way up to the door. He knocks and waits. 
Your dad answers, brows slightly lifted. “Oh, Rafe,” He then pinches them together in confusion. “Didn’t you already say goodbye?” 
“No,” He shakes his head quickly. “I, uh…I was at work.” He lies. 
“Well, I’m sorry, kid. You just missed her,” He motions towards the end of the driveway. “I could call if you want—”
“No,” He quickly stops him. “No…I don’t want to hold her up if she had a timeline she wanted to follow. Thank you, though, sir.” 
He nods and begins to shut the door. “Wait,” The door opens once again. “This might be…” He trails off. It wouldn’t be weird. As far as they know - hopefully - you both are still together. “Would it be okay if I go up to her room?” 
The older man’s brows lift slightly, shrugging. “I don’t see why not.” 
Rafe nods and steps inside when he steps away. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be quick.” He makes his way towards the steps, quickly jogging up them and towards your room. 
He opens the door, stepping inside before closing it behind himself. He slowly steps in and stuffs his hands in his pockets as he looks around the room. 
Sitting on the edge of your bed, he smiles to himself softly. It did feel strange sitting in your room, without you. 
His eyes land on the photo on the nightstand, picking it up carefully. It had been moved from your dresser, closer to your bed. He didn’t know if that was good or bad. 
His chin quivers and drags his thumb across the dried flowers that had been stuffed under the glass. They were from your second date - Rafe had been late, Ward holding him up to do something that could’ve waited.
He wanted Ward's approval and put you last. He thinks that was the first time he ever did that. You never held it against him. 
Kicking off his shoes, he shifts around in the bed as he lies on his side. He holds the frame close to his chest, arms crossing over it protectively. 
He was never the one to get close to people. It was a surprise that he had even let you get close enough that you knew his little tics he would do when he was nervous, lying, or joking. 
Close enough that you knew him better than he knew himself. 
More than he knew you. 
The thought makes his eyes squeeze alongside the painful squeeze of his heart, the heel of his palm pressing in between his brows. His phone is weighing heavily in his pocket - his mind screaming for him to just call. 
But he didn’t want to hold you back. He knew you were meant for something greater than this place. Your friends. Him. You deserved to prove yourself in a way he never could or never will be able too. 
He loved you too much to hold you back. 
He loves you too much. 
His eyes grow heavier, the hold on the frame loosening as he slowly falls asleep to the scent of your sheets that smelled of both you and him. 
That smelled of home.
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— tags; @starkeyvhs ; @clairoscharm ; @oceanblvd111
| please do not steal my content! feedback, requests, comments, & reblogs are appreciated & very welcomed. ᢉ𐭩
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earthtooz · 2 years ago
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x : AVOIDANCE :*+゚
in which: falling for blade was not on your agenda, so naturally you decide to distance yourself. however, the last thing you'd predicted was blade being upset with the sudden space.
warnings: 2.3k wc, FLUFF, ooc!blade probably bc i'm still trying to figure it out, kafka meddles with the two of you, gn!stellaron hunter!reader who has a past lol, NOT PROOFREAD, idiots in love bc i love that trope, bad writing
a/n: thank you to the anon who gave me this idea :D much appreciated, i had a lot of fun with this one when my angstier fics were draining me af. i hope you enjoy, apologies if it's a little low quality, but it's my child &lt;3
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when you first joined the team of stellaron hunters, you didn’t expect to get much out of it, especially since the team looked so cold, calculating, mischievous, and unforgiving, greeting you with vicious smiles and muddy eyes. preemptively, you assumed the most you would receive is acquaintanceship.
however, time has proven you wrong, because on the contrary, you have found comfort, friendship, and stability in the form of this mismatched group.
you never expected to find love either.
but you did, and it might be the worst decision your heart has ever made.
“y/n, there you are. kafka and i are thinking about going out to lunch. want to join?” silver wolf’s voice interrupts your train of thought, disrupting your peace in your private spot amongst the gardens.
“oh, hi silver wolf,” you murmur, shutting your book after shoving in a bookmark. “who else is going?”
“kafka asked blade and he agreed.”
the genius hacker doesn’t notice the way you tense upon hearing a certain swordman’s name. instead, you play it cool by opening up your book again, scanning the pages in hopes of ignoring the racing of your heart.
“i think i’ll pass on this one. thank you though,” you mutter.
“really?” the silver-haired asks, popping her gum before shrugging. “whatever you say. i’m off!”
“bye!”
hearing her footsteps fade, you slump in your seat, your memories with blade hauntingly eminent in your mind. you don’t recall when you fell for him, or why exactly, all you have in your recollection is a series of moments that you look back fondly upon with a full heart, love slowly seeping in to you and causing your affections to grow to the size that they reside at now.
when you had realised, the love had already grown too big to deflate, and dejection struck moments after; a big bang of butterflies in your stomach that all disintegrated straight after.
how brutal- perhaps this was an indication that blade was rubbing off on you too much, and you need to cleanse yourself of his influence.
love, although fickle, was not something that you avidly rejected. despite having lived like a hunted deer, your experiences have been fleeting, building your delicate heart for a life of meeting, falling, then leaving when you least wanted to, needing to run before an arrow pierced you- and certainly not cupid’s one. 
but with blade, everything is different. there is no arrow to run from, not in the life that elio has foreseen for you. for the first time in your life, you can stop running away and try fall into the arms of love with little remorse.
it's just ironic that you fall into the arms of a man who should not be touched.
“y/n’s not coming with us today,” silver wolf reports after meeting up with the other two stellaron hunters.
“oh?” kafka hums, “usually y/n’s always willing to hangout, why’s that?”
“busy or something, i don’t know, i didn’t care to ask.”
the slight scrunch of displeasure in blade’s expression passes by the keen eyes of both kafka and silver wolf. if either of them had noticed then perhaps it would have been a topic of interest, but for the time being, the pair move on (faster than the third member), your unusual absence dismissed in favour of where to get food.
as the days turn into nights and elio issues more missions and mumbles more futures, blade feels as though he sees you less and less.
it’s not intuition more than it is you purposefully ignoring and evading blade in your everyday, though.
“good morning,” kafka’s voice greets when she walks in to the cafeteria, where you were eating breakfast alone. setting down your phone, you regard her with a mouth full of bread. “gross. at least swallow first.”
“screw off,” you murmur. “how did you sleep?”
“fine fine, i woke up in the wrong position though and my neck is killing me, but what about you? seems like you’ve been up a while.”
“i’ve been up since asscrack of dawn.” 
the purple-haired regards you with amusement. “why’s that?”
“body clock or whatever,” you lie, staring down at your glass of water.
“i see,” kafka hums half-heartedly, as if seeing right through you. “well, i’m going to get some coffee, i’ll be right back.”
“mk.”
you’re left on your own for only a few minutes, waiting patiently in silence for kafka to return. the morning is cool and pleasant, and the smell of rain is still heavy in the air as the morning dew lightens the atmosphere. the weather will surely get hotter as the day matures, but for now, you enjoy the gentle caress of sunlight on your back.
or rather- you were enjoying the gentle caress of the sun, but the methodicalness of it all is ruined when you spot a certain figure with dark, long hair beside kafka.
suddenly the last thing you know is peace and calm, and the abrupt, painful scraping of your chair against the floor symbolises that.
“going somewhere?” kafka asks.
picking up your scraps, you avoid blade’s gaze. “yeah! i- uh, realised that i have some documents to drop off for elio by twelve or whatever.”
“won't you stay to keep us company for breakfast,” the purple-haired tempts, “it feels like it’s been so long since we’ve spent some proper time together.”
“has it?” you laugh nervously and kafka easily picks up the pitchiness of your tone. “i’ll make it up soon, i promise, i’ve just been overflowed with things to do.”
“alright. you be off then. don’t work too hard.”
“i won’t. my head is remaining tight on my shoulders, don’t you worry!” you reassure before scrambling away, feeling like your legs could not be any slower as you retreat away from blade’s scrutinising gaze. when you round the corner, you sigh a breath of relief. 
it’s laughable and simultaneously admirable how dedicated you are about dodging every interaction possible, but for the record, you think you’re doing quite well. not that space was doing many favours for your heart, but persistence is key. 
whoever believed that distance makes the heart grow fonder just clearly didn’t try enough, because yours feels like it’s about to hammer out of your chest with how fast it is racing, and the sensation is equivalent to something like pain rather than fondness.
“i’m worried,” blade mutters, gaze lingering on where you’d just disappeared. “and why does y/n talk like i’m not right here?”
“aww, are you upset?” coos kafka, taking a seat. the swordsman mimics her.
“why wouldn’t i be? it feels like y/n has been ignoring me as of late.”
kafka hums thoughtfully, swirling her coffee cup around.
“do you know anything about that?”
“nup. nothing at all,” she answers, feigning ignorance to the many suspicions that are bubbling around in her mind. the last thing kafka is, is blind, your unusual behaviour has not bypassed her perceptive eye at all, but she believes she has uncovered the reasoning as to why; said reasoning being a certain swordsman.
the revelation is definitely interesting, and she might just be able to give the push you both need.
“y’know what, bladie? if it concerns you that much, i’d say you go check up on y/n later,” kafka suggests.
“why not you?”
“i’ll be busy, but i think some support in dire times is just what y/n needs.”
“okay. fine.”
when blade gathers the courage to check up on you, like kafka recommended, the time is nearing 5pm. the sun is beginning to cool, the animals are retreating into their nests, and the big, bad, intimidating stellaron hunter is roaming around the archives, where you’re situated to work, hoping to locate you.
it takes a few laps around to finally find your placement because you’re fast asleep, only identifiable to blade by the jacket you hung on the back of your chair.
the sight of you hunched over your desk over a multitude of forms and papers causes a wave of concern (however much he can feel) to wash over blade, and suddenly, he does something completely foreign to him: dote over someone.
gently lifting your jacket to cover your shoulders, he stills when you shift a little, your eyebrows furrowing in your sleep. deciding to leave you alone, all blade spares is one lasting look at your vulnerability before leaving. 
he wonders what it is that could be making you so frustrated. 
(if only he knew). 
a few days later, kafka confronts you about the suspicions that’s been creeping to the forefront of her mind.
“did you do something to piss a certain bladie off?” 
kafka’s saccharine voice is laced with mischief as she leans towards you, chin resting on the palm of her hand. she certainly does not miss the way you tense up at the mention of the swordsman’s name and her smirk widens when you shuffle away, subconsciously turning away, as if avoiding the subject.
“i can’t think of why i would have,” you murmur, crossing your arms. “why?”
“oh, nothing, he’s just been complaining and crying a lot recently.”
“he does that all the time.”
“so he does,” your fellow stellaron hunter hums. “except he’s mentioning your name a lot more nowadays.” 
you freeze. “what?”
“hm? did i say something peculiar?”
inhaling a deep breath, you steady yourself. you know what kafka wants out of you and you’re not going to give it to her despite how innocent and pretty she spins the web to look. after all these years together, you hope to have learnt a thing or two about how to avoid her snare.
“what is blade saying about me?” you quiz. 
she blinks at you. “why so curious if you haven’t done anything?” 
“can i not ask about something that involves my name? besides, he’s my friend, i want to know what he’s saying,” you lean against the back of the couch, trying to calm the involuntary shake in your legs. you despise that the slightest mention of blade can cause a bottomless pit to form in your stomach and it’s not because of how intimidating or threatening he is. 
no, it’s because you’ve fallen for him, hook, line, and centre.
and blade would have to die before you ever tell him.
“mostly just grumbles about wondering where you are,” kafka expands, waving her hands about to match her words. “he asked silver wolf and i if you’ve been talking to us and when we said ‘yes’, he looked pissed! when i asked why he was being a sourpuss, he just stormed off.”
“so temperamental, that man,” she sighs. then, she looks back at you with those half-lidded eyes that have always gotten her what she wants, and in this case, they’re answers. “so tell me, y/n, what did you do to our bladie to have him all riled up like this?”
“nothing. absolutely nothing.”
“are you sure?”
“positive.”
“positive?”
you avoid her curious gaze. “positive.”
“maybe i phrased the question wrong. has bladie done something to you instead?”
panic settles within you. “no,” you lie through your teeth. “he hasn’t.”
“so if i asked you why you left breakfast so abruptly that day, you wouldn’t say that it’s because of him?”
“i had work to do, kafka, you know how busy my job gets.”
“i know, i know,” she persists, “then why weren’t you in a hurry before blade arrived that morning?”
you don’t know how to refute that, letting silence speak volumes instead.
“and why did you skip out on lunch with silver wolf and i? was it because we also invited a certain someone?”
“okay! fine, you’ve got me. what do you want to know?” you explode, tossing your phone on the couch in frustration. 
“so it is about blade?” questions your coworker.
“yeah. it is.”
“what about him? did he do something to hurt you? you know he’s accidentally mean sometimes-”
“it’s not that, he’s nothing but a sweetheart.”
“so what’s the problem?”
“that is the problem! he’s just… he’s him.”
“is that bad?”
“for my heart, yes.”
“oh my- so you like him?”
you exhale exasperatedly, “don’t act like you haven’t already figured that out, kafka.”
the cheshire smile she then flashes sends shivers down your spine. for whatever reason, an oppressive feeling grows in your gut, resembling something like a warning.
“you’re right, i knew,” she flaunts. then, her gaze cuts to look behind you. “but i don’t think blade did.”
your heart lurches out of your chest with enough force to pull you off the couch and you stumble around to see that, lo and behold, blade was indeed standing in the hallway. the expression he wears tells you enough; he heard you, he knows.
kafka somehow sneaks her way out of the room, leaving you alone to deal with the face of rejection. it’s daunting being in the same space as him after so long, you almost forgot about the intimidating pressure that blade naturally exudes and projects in every space he enters.
“hi,” you start, looking away. 
he stalks over to you, footsteps soundless before stopping a feet in front of you. instead of saying something, the swordsman merely gazes down at you whilst you keep your eyes glued to the side.
“can you reject me already? the silence is kinda killing me,” you snap after a few seconds, crossing your arms protectively. 
instead of obeying to your request, blade does something completely unexpected; he very gently lifts your chin with his hand, and red eyes bore right into yours. is it odd to feel seen in your demise? because blade is looking- no, surveying you with such immense focus and clarity that your heart stills, frozen in position because it wants him to see the most picturesque part of you. 
(he sees it, but he wants to know more of you. the pretty, the ugly, the likeable, and the unwanted.)
“would you like to go on a date?” he asks.
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© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 3 months ago
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Chapter 11: It's Giving Kidnapping?
Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV
Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you neve expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.  (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)
Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy
Word Count: 10.1K
Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it) and because there is an unwanted sexual advance (not Soldier Boy) (it's more someone making the reader feel uncomfortable and the person talking to the reader, not so much touching, but it's still there and it's wrong), Violence, Swearing, Mentions of sex, Thoughts of Sex, Kidnapping, GASLIGHTING, Threatening, Denial, A whole lot of denial, Sexism, Creepiness, Manipulation, Talks about weed, Super manipulative trash man, And another Super Manipulative Trash Man but this time he's even more creepy, Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.
Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!
Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.
Series Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Spotify Playlist 🪴
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Reader POV
"So where is it that we're going again?" You ask your brother Darren while looking absentmindedly out the passenger side window of his car watching the other people on the bridge.
The sun was shining, bathing the interior of the car in a warm light, the clouds puffy and the sky a beautiful blue that faded into the background behind the iconic New York Skyline as the buildings raised their hands to worship the beautiful day. It was the perfect day for you to grab a paper back and a cup of iced pineapple tea and make your way to Central Park, instead you were stuck in a car with your brother who was taking you God knows were.
"I told you it's a surprise." Darren replies, hitting the gas to cut off someone in the fast lane who honks at him, but Darren only flips them the bird and continues to speed down the bridge.
You had been in the car for over thirty minutes, a car that Darren said was a "loan" from his new BFF, the same person that he was ecstatic about you meeting.
The car was fancier than what you were used to, state of the art with butterscotch colored leather seats so supple and smooth that it felt like you were being hugged by the passenger side chair. The windows were made of thicker glass and you guessed that they must be bulletproof given how sturdy they looked, not to mention they were also darker than average so no one could see into the vehicle, but you could see out. The car was four doors and was made by a European company that you'd never heard of, but you were sure it was expensive. The car probably cost more than the entire inventory of "Please Don't Die" and the building the shop inhabited.
This is weird. You think to yourself, squeezing the leather seat in your hand.
Most of the "friends" your brother introduced you to were as down on their luck as Darren and just as eager to ask for a loan from anyone they could. You'd never met one that could afford a new car let alone a car that looked like it should be owned by the wealthiest man in New York City.
Your frown deepens as you try to figure out where the two of you are going and who it is Darren wants you to meet.
Truthfully, Darren was acting like you didn't hate surprises, you did. Every time your brother dropped by unannounced made you furious. You'd told him over and over again to call first, but no matter what you did each time he showed up without so much as a text.
You sigh audibly. "I just want to be prepared for wherever it is we're going."
"And I told you it's a surprise." His hands tighten on the wheel as if you're annoying him, before he glances over at you with a tight smile. "Come on sissy, it's like you don't even trust me."
The word "trust" makes you frown at him and drags you back to your apartment thirty minutes ago when Ben told you that you were stupid and "too trusting." You didn't understand why Ben got so mad at you going with Darren.
He's my brother, what did Ben think was going to happen? And why was he so angry?
You cross your arms over your chest and lean back into the plush seat.
Who did Ben think he was? He's not my dad! And I am not just some stupid little ditzy girl who needs a big strong man to protect me! I am a grown woman who has survived this long without someone like him butting into all of my business.
The more you sat there in the car, the more your frown deepens, and the more angry you became. You didn't understand why he treated you that way when you hadn't done anything to warrant his temper.
He's just a temperamental petulant child who thinks that he knows everything and that his opinion should be treated with the highest regard!
Usually, you would feel bad about what you had shouted at Ben about his old team and about his son, but not right now. You didn't understand why he was getting so angry and why he cared so much about what you were doing with your brother.
Does Ben really think that Darren would do anything to hurt me?
The whiplash that Ben kept putting you through where he seemed to care and then he didn't was getting old quick…
"Do whatever the fuck you want. It's not like I give a shit about her."
You wince as Ben's words ring in your ears making something stick in your chest. They had hurt more than you thought they would, maybe because you were starting to care about Ben and you thought that he was starting to care about you.
Because what other reason would he walk with you to work, pick you up, and bring you coffee sometimes? And why did he seem to be almost worried when Darren suggested that you meet his friend?
But he doesn't care about you. He's made that much perfectly clear.
You chew the inside of your cheek contemplating the conversation the two of you shared. Maybe I did say some things that were a little harsh, but Ben was being a total dick and he deserved what I said!
A flash of Ben and you tangled in one another this morning comes roaring back bringing a wave of heat flashing through you. Your cheeks flush and the wildflowers growing on the opposite side of the bridge outside of the car all flare bright pink in the sunlight when Darren drives the car past them.
You had been so close to kissing him, so close to letting yourself sink into his warmth and lose yourself in all he was. He was so strong and broad and warm in all the right ways, not to mention he looked really cute this morning with his eyes still a little hazy from sleep and his dark hair falling forward into his face, mused just slightly against the pillow. You could still feel his body laying on top of yours, but the weight wasn't oppressive, it was perfect, like a weighted blanket that made your anxiety fade away. The feeling of his powerful chest beneath the palms of your hands as you dragged them up to tangle his hair ghosts through your body.
Despite Ben's gruff exterior those few soft moments this morning you wished hadn't slipped through your fingertips, you wanted to kiss him, wanted to feel what it was like for him to kiss you softly as if he wished to savor you. The one you'd shared outside your apartment was hungry and frenzied, but you had a feeling deep down in your gut that the kiss Ben and you would have shared on the couch would have been different. The moment felt different too. The way he looked at you, the way he smiled when he noticed the apple tree flowering, and the way he held you close to him with care.
No. I am not going to think about any of that right now. He was a jerk for no reason and even if he wasn't Ben said he didn't care about me. Which is exactly what I've been trying to say since I first met him, he doesn't want to date me, he just wants to fuck me and move on.
When you'd walked out of your bedroom in a fresh outfit, Ben had already gone, and Jake had answered you back saying that it was okay for you to take the day off. Jake rarely said that it was a bad idea, he had said that he would "miss you" but instead of that filling you with warmth it did absolutely nothing. You figured that it was because of the fight Ben and you had. The anger, frustration, hurt, and rage was still currently swirling around your head and whenever it came to a peak you'd get a flash of how good it felt to wake up with Ben on top of you.
"How did you meet your friend?" You ask to keep your mind from wandering back to Ben.
"The usual."
"Usual, meaning?"
"Met him at Richie's poker game, we hit it off." Darren adjusts the radio and flips it to an 80's rock song that you can't remember the name of.
You sigh. "You owe him money don't you?"
"No I don't!" Darren clams up, his hands tightening on the wheel for a moment. "Well, just a little…"
Typical, just typical. Should have brought my damn checkbook.
"I thought you said that you didn't need money?" You pinch the bridge of your nose doing another mental calculation of how much you could give your brother.
"I don't, we worked something out." Darren answers vaguely, turning off of the expressway and onto a side street.
The buildings outside the window begin to be more and more spaced out, becoming more industrial. Each one you pass is fenced in and are quickly changing into giant warehouses and desolate streets. There aren't any other cars on the road with you and you hadn't seen another person in a few minutes.
"Well this looks… murdery." You frown at another empty warehouse with rusting sides and a roof that’s caved in.
Why are we all the way out here?
"It's not murdery, it's just eclectic. Don't be so judgmental." Darren rolls his eyes at you as he makes a left turn in front of a warehouse that is larger than the others, but in much better shape.
It's fenced with barbed wire swirling along the top of the chain links, but there's a man standing at the gate with a leather jacket, sunglasses, and a clip board, the first person you’d seen outside of the car since Darren got off the expressway. He gestures for Darren to roll down the window with the clipboard.
"Hey there Joe." Darren says smoothly, leaning his elbow on the window frame, the picture of ease.
"Darren." Joe states eyes falling on where you're sitting in the passenger seat. "That her?"
"Yeah this is my sister." Darren flashes the usual smile, the one you've seen him use countless times when he needs to schmooze someone or close a "deal."
"Hi." You say awkwardly, smiling at the man identified as Joe.
Something about this feels wrong. Why does he know who I am? I thought I was just meeting Darren's friend?
All Joe does is frown at you. "Doesn't look like a supe."
You turn to look at your brother surprised. Darren knew that it was something you didn't share with everyone, that it was something you only revealed when you had to.
Darren shrugs it off with a laugh. "She is, trust me."
"Hmm." Joe grunts. "And you're late. The boss doesn't like it when people are late."
"Sorry it was her fault. Told her to put on something nice and you know how women are." Darren is completely in his element, gesturing with his hands, and smoothing down any ruffled feathers.
But the whole situation makes you more uncertain.
Who was "the boss?" Is that Darren's friend? And why the fuck did he tell Joe that I was a supe?
You pull on the end of your long sleeved blouse nervously. Darren hadn’t let you leave the house before approving your outfit and finally when you'd walked out of your bedroom wearing a long sleeved green with white polka dot blouse and a pair of dark jeans and your converse he had said that you were "presentable" but then insisted that you leave your hair down.
It made you feel like you were about to go to a job interview. You didn't understand why Darren made you change so many times or why he cared what you wore to meet another one of his skeevy friends. They never seemed to dress up to meet you, so why should you dress up to meet them? Not to mention Darren wasn't wearing anything different than his usual outfit.
He was wearing his black army jacket over a pair of black ripped jeans and a Meatloaf t-shirt. He'd changed out the gauges in his ears for black pointed spikes and the two rings in Darren's right eyebrow were now bright blue. Darren runs his hand over his buzzed hair, giving you a flash of his onyx skull ring on his thumb.
"Yeah I get it, my old lady does the same thing." Joe eyes you appreciatively and winks. "Cleans up nice though."
"Thank you." You reply dryly.
Joe waves Darren through and as he does, you see a gun in a holster hanging against the left side of his chest under his leather jacket.
"Darren what is this? Why was he armed? And why the fuck did you tell him I was a supe?" You shout at your brother as soon as he rolls up the window.
"Oh well, my friend is kind of important and Joe is just some extra security." Darren pulls the car into a parking spot just outside of the building. He says it like you're overreacting, but you didn't think you were. This entire situation was suspicious. "I told him you were a supe because he's just trying to keep my friend safe. He asked an honest question and I didn't want to lie to him."
Bullshit. Darren doesn't give a fuck about lying to other people.
Sometimes you even wondered if Darren gave a fuck about lying to you. That thought was usually brushed away by the reassertion that Darren was your brother and you trusted what he said.
But everything about this situation made you feel odd. You didn’t understand why Darren had to bring you here to meet his friend or why his friend wanted to meet you in the first place or why his friend seemed to need so much security. You'd never had one of Darren's friends ask to meet you before, most of the time you just showed up to meet Darren and they were there scratching something in public that they shouldn't be.
"Come on Darren, you know how much I hate telling people that I'm a supe-"
"Relax. It's already done, let's just move on." He waves a hand, ignoring you.
"Please, tell me what I'm doing here. This is more than me just meeting your friend."
"Hey." He brings his hand down on yours where it rests on the middle console. "I know you're nervous, but I would never do anything to hurt you." Darren's blue eyes are wide with sincerity. "Do you really think I would?"
"Well-" You bite the inside of your cheek.
He's your brother. He wouldn’t hurt you. You say it to reassure yourself, but it doesn’t stick completely.
"Come on." Darren sighs it as if he's genuinely upset that you thought he would. "I'm your brother, I'm your only family and I love you sis. I just want to do what's best for you. And my friend is really nice and he keeps saying that he wants to meet you. Not to mention he's loaded and I know that you struggle with things like that and he said that he'd help you out."
"What?" You sputter in surprise. "Why would he do that? Why would you talk to him about me?
"Because he's a nice guy and I like to brag about how amazing you are to everyone I meet." Darren smiles. "Now come on I don't want to keep Eli waiting and we're already late."
"Eli?"
It was the first time that Darren had used his friend's name and somewhere at the back of your mind it rang a bell.
"My friend. You're gonna love him. Come on I don't want to keep him waiting." Darren repeats as he gets out of the car first, but you stay in it for a second absorbing the entire situation.
You had half a mind to text Butcher or Annie, something about the whole situation made alarm bells go off in your head, and as mean as Ben had been, you wondered if he was right, if this was something you should be worried about.
And weirder still a piece of you wished that Ben was here with you. You didn't know why, but you did.
Instead of calling or texting someone, you discretely unlock your phone and check that the tracking software Annie and you downloaded to keep tabs on one another when you moved into the city was on. No one else knew about it, in fact the app was disguised as a period tracker on your home screen so if someone were to take your phone all they would see is another general app and they'd immediately pass over it. 
You'd never had to use it before in an emergency situation. Annie and you both used it when you went on a date with someone you barely knew as an extra precaution in case the guy turned out to be a freak or a secret cannibal. The horror stories you saw on the internet made you worry about that and the last thing you wanted to do was go on a date with a guy who had a taste for human flesh or wanted to turn you into a skin suit.
You open the passenger side door of the car and step out into the sunshine, tucking your phone into your pocket back pocket while looking up at the building. It glints a dull gray in the morning light, but the general appearance of the building does little to make you feel better about the whole situation. Memories of all the other times you met Darren's friends came flitting back across your mind, all of which occurred at a fast-food restaurant or a random poker game or a bar. Not to mention you'd never had one of his friends specifically ask to meet you before and you'd never met one in the middle of nowhere at a warehouse that was fenced in and patrolled by armed guards.
Darren adjusts the collar of his jacket flipping it down before he looks back at you. "Come on."
"Darren I don't think-"
Darren looks up to the sky with a heavy sigh as if your apprehension is annoying him. "Sis come on." He walks closer to you. "That asshole, Ben, is in your head. Are you really going to trust some random guy you live with or me? Your own flesh and blood?"
"Well-"
"Have I ever put you in a dangerous position before?"
"No."
"Exactly. I care about you so much and I would never do anything to hurt you." He takes your hand, eyes soft in the morning light. "I love you. You're the only family I have left that matters. And I promise if anything in there makes you uncomfortable we can leave. Just say the word."
"Really?"
"Yes." Darren nods once. "Fuck, sissy I'm not taking you here against your will. If you don't want to go in we don’t have to, but you said that you would come with me and you never break your word. Not to mention it would make me happy."
He's my brother. He loves me. He would never hurt me. It's going to be okay.
You let out a soft breath and squeeze his hand. "Okay."
Darren leads you to the thick metal door and opens it for you so you can walk in first and as soon as you do, you stop mid-step. The inside of the warehouse is covered with tables, but they're not empty, each table holds more weed plants than you can fit inside your entire apartment. The room is so green that you have to squint for a moment for your eyes to adjust from all the brightness outside. There are large fluorescent lights hanging above each table trying to give the plants the sunlight they need, but the plants don’t look good.
The plants are wilting, dying, and some have a strange black substance that fans out over the leaves in a vein-like pattern, choking the green that remains. Dead plants in piles are stacked on the edges of the room, already succumbing to whatever the hell was wrong with them.
You'd never seen a plant have something like that before. Even the energy given off by the plants is not the usual one you feel when surrounded by so many, it feels wrong, sickly, almost oppressive. You've never felt something that felt so wrong from any of the plants that you had encountered in the past.
You walk up to one of the tables, examining the black veins that are creeping along the gentle bend of the leaves up from the stalks. "What happened?"
"No idea." Darren shrugs. An unlit cigarette is perched between his lips and he's searching through his jacket pockets for his lighter. The one he'd had for years that looked like a silver dragon. "Eli said that he came back from somewhere and he found them like this."
"Oh."
"Do you think you can fix them?"
"What?" You turn to look at him incredulously. "This is weed. This is illegal why the fuck would I fix this?"
"Come on. Don’t be so high and mighty." Darren groans. "They're plants. You've told me countless times that you hate it when plants suffer. Well all of these are suffering!"
"Not the same thing!"
"You're telling me if Newton's dad's cornfield was suffering you wouldn't wave a hand and work some of that plant lover shit to save it?"
"That cornfield is his family's livelihood this is-"
"It's Eli's livelihood. It's how he makes so much money!"
"Is this why you brought me here?" You shout crossing your arms over your chest. "To fix all of these?"
"No. I wanted you to meet my friend and he's waiting for us so we might as well fucking go." Darren grouses, turning to walk up a rickety staircase that leads to the second level of the warehouse.
But you don’t believe him, because why else would Darren bring you to a place with a plant related problem, not to mention why would Darren get so angry when you refused to.
Did he really think I was going to fix an entire warehouse full of weed plants? The last thing I'm gonna do is help Eli cultivate his crop.
You weren't surprised that Darren's friend wasn't as above board as everyone else. You knew that your brother tended to get involved with people who weren't as law abiding, not to mention your brother's moral compass didn't always point North when it came to other people, but you didn't think that he would involve you in something like this.
Occasionally the moral boundaries you had were pushed when it came to what you did for Butcher, but at least he respected you when you said no.
Darren continues to stomp up the stairs angrily, another reason why you believed that Darren was lying to you.
He knew that if he mentioned any of this I would never come with him.
He throws open the door at the top of the stairs not bothering to knock and you follow behind him, fuming.
The room just inside is not what you were expecting. The entire wall to the left is made entirely of glass giving whomever is inhabiting the room an amazing view of the water beyond, water that you didn't realize was so close when Darren pulled up to the building. There's a giant wooden antique desk at the back at the room with a large maroon leather desk chair sitting behind it and two smaller leather chairs in front of the desk. A few bookshelves line the non-windowed walls, but there's no one else in the room, just Darren and you.
Where's his friend?
Darren sighs and exhales a breath of smoke, before he turns to look at you with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry sis. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I know that you've always been more on the straight and narrow than me and I shouldn't have yelled at you."
"What?" You weren't expecting him to sound so sorry, if anything you thought that your brother would have started yelling at you all over again. Why is he apologizing.
"Yeah." He rubs a free hand over the top of his buzzed hair sheepishly. "I shouldn't have gotten so mad about it. Of course you don’t have to do anything you don't want to do."
"Thank you." You sigh. "And I'm sorry. I do hate to see plants suffer, but that out there is different than what I do regularly."
"I know. And I don’t want you to be uncomfortable" Darren grabs your hand with his free hand, before he looks around the room. "Guess Eli is also running a little late huh?" He smiles and it reassures you that you've been forgiven.
"Yeah. Weird that he's not here. Especially when Joe said he was waiting for us and-"
"Oh shit!" Darren interrupts you, lets go of your hand and smacks himself on the forehead. "I completely forgot."
"Forgot what?"
He's frantically patting down his pockets looking for something. "I was supposed to call Richie. I told him I would and I-" He continues to check his pockets, the cigarette still burning between his lips. Darren talks around it. "Can I borrow your phone real quick? I think I left mine in the car."
"But-"
"Please it'll take like, two seconds. I told him that I'd meet up with him later and I want to take you to lunch after this to make up for all that shit." Darren nods his head back towards the door where the tables of weed plants are.
"Oh you don’t have to take me to lunch Darren, I can-"
"No." Darren smiles. "I want to. It’s the least I can do, driving you all the way out here and making you meet Eli."
"Um-" You look around the empty office expecting Eli to materialize out of nowhere. "Sure. But please make it quick. I don’t want to be in here alone with this random dude."
"He's not a random dude, he's my friend. And he's a gentleman, definitely a better person that that dick you have at your apartment." Darren waves a hand before he takes your phone. "You'll be fine. And we can go wherever you want for lunch."
You frown at Darren's comment about Ben as he disappears out the door and leaves you in the large office.
Honestly you did think that Ben could be a dick at times, but there were other times when he was almost sweet, well, sort of at least.
Not before he left today.
You think about what you yelled at him, about him needing people, but just wanting to push them away. That you were sure about. You believed that Ben did need people, but he had so many trust issues about everything that had happened in the past that it made him suspicious and not want to admit it to himself. That and you figured if he believed he was such a "manly man" he thought that it was ridiculous and feminine to admit that he needed someone.
Which again, you thought was stupid because you'd always seen emotional maturity in a man as an attractive trait. You liked when men could be vulnerable around you, you liked when they were honest, and you liked when they had the confidence and security to break around you so you could help them. And you found yourself wanting to help Ben, even though you thought you shouldn't.
He's not a bad guy, he's just got a ton of trust issues, machoistic ideas, and an inability to open up to anyone.
You tap your fingertip against your bicep where they were crossed in front of your chest and make your way to one of the bookshelves to look at the books. Some were antiques, others were versions of classics that you had read when you were a child, but you were sure that each volume was worth more than the apartment building you lived in. Some of the spines were so faded that you could just barely make out the flecked golden lettering and others were in another language that you couldn't understand.
Honestly, you could see yourself sitting in the big maroon chair curled up with one of these books, reading through the book with a large cup of tea while looking out over the water and admiring the iconic New York Skyline across the bay. It was a nice office, but your mind began to drift back to the quiet moments Ben and you shared a few days ago when you curled up on the couch beside him and read through your current obsession while he sat with the paper on the other side. It was nice and you were surprised that the two of you could share such a quiet moment together without ripping each other's heads off.
Maybe I should call and apologize. You think to yourself while you stroke your fingertip down one of the spines. I shouldn’t have said those things about his team or his son. And yes maybe he shouted some things at me too, but maybe he also feels bad and he's just not man enough to tell me that he's sorry. Or maybe he doesn’t give a fuck and he couldn’t care less about me.
The words he snarled at your brother, vibrate through your head again.
"Do whatever the fuck you want. It's not like I give a shit about her…"
You hear someone come through the door and because you expect it to be Darren, you don’t turn to look at him.
"I'm sorry to keep you waiting darling." The voice says in a warm and low rumble, the ends tilting in an accent that you can't place. But your entire body freezes, because you knew that voice.
You slowly turn to look at the man who just entered the room eyes widening.
"Ms. Worthington. It is so nice to see you again. How was the drive?" Elijah Black asks with a pleasant smile, one eyebrow raised at you. "Not too much traffic I hope."
Elijah Black looks almost exactly the same way he did at the fundraiser a few days ago and the use of the fake last name you used only reminds you that he hadn't forgotten meeting you. His greying black hair curls behind his ears in waves that have been slicked back over his head. More of his sun-kissed golden skin is revealed to you, showing tattoos that curl up his muscular arms and disappear into the rolled up sleeves of his navy dress shirt. The top two buttons are unbuttoned revealing more of his muscular chest and the dark ink that swirls up from his pecs and licks up onto his collar bones. He's wearing a gold chain to offset the dark swirls of the tattoos, but he still is built like a body-builder, bigger than Ben across, not taller, but taller than you.
Oh fuck. This is not good.
You reach for your phone in your back pocket, prepared to send an emergency text to Butcher and Annie, the one you should have sent before when you were outside, but talked yourself out of. But then you remember that Darren still has your phone and he's not back yet.
"Mr. Black. Funny seeing you here." You clear the fear from your voice, fighting the shudder of fear when you watch Elijah's eyes trace up your figure, clinging to places that make you wish that you hadn’t worn something so tight.
"Please call me Elijah." He purrs, taking another step forward into the room. The door is closed behind him and Darren is gone. "I was disappointed when you used a fake name the other night. I was hoping to get to know you better." Elijah almost looks a little hurt, before his lips twitch into a smirk. "Of course Soldier Boy also seemed to be opposed to the idea, but he's not here now is he?"
"He's outside actually, just give him a second."
"You’re a terrible liar." Elijah chuckles. "I'd hate to see you try to play poker."
"Well give me a chance and I'm sure I'll surprise you."
Elijah is blocking the only exit. The windows could be an option, but it would mean that you’d have to throw something at it or you'd have to throw him through the window. You were strong, but not strong enough to do something like that. Not to mention you had a feeling that Elijah was a supe. The way he carried himself with a careful confidence seemed dangerous.
"Oh I can’t wait to see just how many surprises you have." His eyes trace up and down your body again in a way that makes your throat tighten and a wave of revulsion prickle over your skin. Even though you're wearing a long sleeved shirt and pants, you feel naked under his gaze.
"Darren said that Soldier Boy and you had a fight." Elijah taps his fingers against the edge of the wooden desk. "I hope he didn't hurt you."
Why did Darren tell Elijah that we had a fight? And where the fuck did my brother go?
"That's none of your business-" You say taking a step back moving around the back of the desk, preparing to run the other way and make a break for the door.
Elijah shrugs.  "I like to know everything about the women I get involved with."
"We're not involved. I don’t know a fucking thing about you." You spit backing away.
This is bad. This is very bad.
There weren't any plants in the room and you didn’t have any seeds with you. The other option would be the plants out in the warehouse, but each time you tried to reach for them, all you could feel was the sickly energy they had, and honestly it was making you feel a little bit nauseous. You’d never encountered that before, usually plants made you feel stronger, but they were all so sick that it was overwhelming your senses. You wondered if Elijah planned that.
"Well let's change that. I'd love for you to get to know me better." Elijah continues to move forward through the room slowly. "It’s a pity that the two of you had a spat, especially because you seem to care so much about him and he seems to care about you, and especially  because what he said must have hurt you, but I suppose it's better for me."
Ben doesn’t care about me, but Elijah doesn’t have to know that. If he knows who Ben really is, then he knows how dangerous he is, and if Elijah thinks that Ben will come to get me, that might be everything I need to make him back off.
"Why is that?" You inch around the table with Elijah following after you.
He's still smiling as if he believes that he's won.
"Because he won't come to save you if he hates you. Darren told me that the things you said to him were quite cruel. And I guess none of your team will be coming either."
Darren heard what we yelled at each other and he just pretended not to. He knew that Ben and I had a fight. He knows that Ben is Soldier Boy. Why would Darren do this? He's my brother-
"Of course my team will come to get me. They're on their way right now. And if I were you I'd let me go now, before this becomes an even bigger problem than it is." The lie isn’t completely out of your mouth before Elijah starts to laugh at you.
"No. They're all in Boston, including Soldier Boy." Elijah's smirk grows like the cat who caught the canary. "A thing about those anonymous tips, none of them seem to be that helpful. But Butcher wanted to catch that electric buffoon so badly I thought I might as well give him a push, not in the right direction unfortunately. I was hoping that Solider Boy and you would catch him the other night. He's been causing some trouble for me. Someone like him is bad for business, especially when I'm expanding into auto-motives."
"Oh no. The drug business isn't working out for you? So sad." You snark eyes flicking to the window for a minute and wondering if you could grab a chair and throw it out before he stopped you.
Elijah looks delighted. "I see you've noticed the problem. A rival of mine broke in and poisoned them, and instead of throwing away that much product and wasting more money I thought of you."
"What about me?"
"Well, your brother mentioned something in a game about his sister being able to 'make plants grow.' Honestly, your brother has a problem keeping his mouth shut about lots of things, but I was intrigued. He didn't see the value of such a gift as I did. And when Darren accumulated such a large sum of debt after the game I offered a deal."
"And what deal is that?" You take another step back, not looking away from Elijah.
"You."
Your entire body goes cold. "He wouldn't do that. My brother wouldn't do that to me. He wouldn’t give me to you as fucking payment!"
Because that was what Elijah was suggesting, he was suggesting that Darren would use you to pay off his gambling debts. Darren had done some shitty things in the past, but this seemed to be too much for him.
He wouldn’t do that to me. I'm his sister not some stranger. Darren is a lot of things, but that is too cold to consider.
"Oh my darling." Elijah sighs and throws you a pitying look. "He did. Do you really think he had to call someone? That he left his phone in the car? He needed your phone so you wouldn't call Butcher." Elijah looks at you as if you're a kicked puppy in need of solace. "But don't worry. I always take care of my toys, especially ones that are as beautiful as you."
"If you touch me I'm going to-" You begin to snarl at him
"You've got spirit." He smiles continuing to move towards you as you back away towards the door. "It always makes it more fun. More of a challenge to break."
"Stay away from me."
"I can't wait for you to beg for me to touch you."
"I mean it." You leap backward to grab the doorhandle, but as you do Elijah lunges across the room, grabbing your right arm to pull you away from the door.
He's still holding on and you bring your foot up between his legs hoping to find something soft, but when you do Elijah only laughs and tightens his grip on your arm and you hear a high-pitched snap that vibrates through your body.
At first you don’t understand what the sound was, but a wave of pain surges up and you realize the high pitched snap was the sound of your right arm breaking. The nausea comes roaring back, but the pain is almost excruciating as you try to pull your now broken arm from his grasp.
"Don't worry." Elijah purrs again. "I'm going to take good care of you."
And it's the last thing you hear as everything goes dark.
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Soldier Boy POV
4 Days Later…
Ben leaned back in the faded floral cloth armchair in the corner of the crowded motel room, his head thrown against the back of the chair, as he takes a hit from the blunt in between his thumb and forefinger.  The other people in the room continue to bicker and shout at one another pouring over a map and a laptop on the lone table pressed under the window in the corner of the room and it was ruining his buzz.
It had been four days since Ben had been shoved into the back of a car and taken to Boston, four days of listening to Butcher bitch and moan about why none of them could locate the electric supe, and four days since Ben had last seen you.
He exhales a cloud of smoke remembering the conversation the two of you had before he left. Honestly, he hadn’t meant to make you cry and he had no idea where any of what he shouted at you came from, but he was just so damn frustrated about the way your asshole brother was treating you and how damn trusting you were that he just exploded.
Everything he told you, he thought was obvious and something that you could see for yourself. And yet you stood there, eyes wide with tears, while he shouted those things at you and then you had the audacity to yell back at him.
He'd never met anyone so completely clueless and trusting before and it was infuriating. He hated that you let that asshole use you, hated how submissive you got whenever your brother brought up the fact that he was your only family, and Ben hated how you couldn’t see what was directly in front of your face.
All he'd wanted to do was tell you to be careful, and instead he insulted you. And then he'd had to listen to you cry to yourself quietly in your room like you also hadn't insulted him.
Why the fuck do I give a shit? She's just being damn hormonal and never wants to listen to anyone, but herself.
Ben's frown deepens when he remembers what you shouted back at him. He'd never allowed anyone to speak to him that way, then again no one had ever had the balls to and he respected that. Well, respected it, but wished you would fucking stop.
Worse still was that Ben didn't understand why he couldn't stop thinking about you. He'd never had that happen before, usually all it took to get a woman out of his mind was a quick fuck with whatever walked by, but that hadn't worked when he tried it last night.
He'd changed his location on tinder and gone out with a girl who looked nothing like you, and seemed to be the stupidest person Ben had ever met. This time he had bought her dinner, and Ben could feel himself zoning out while she talked about nothing at all. He thought of you while she talked, thought about how you always seemed to speak with purpose and how when you spoke about things they always seemed interesting and important. Not to mention he liked it when you talked because he wanted to learn more about you. You were so different than the women he'd met over the years and it was refreshing. Ben didn't like that he felt that way. He'd never been one for talking, he thought it was fucking boring, but for some reason talking to you was different.
The only time his date shut up was when Ben took her back to her apartment and yet on the walk home all Ben could think of is if you were okay. He didn't like that he had left you with your brother and he had been debating to tell Butcher to fuck off and follow Darren and you, but he hadn't wanted to after you said all that shit about his son and his old team.
Why the fuck do I give a shit what happens to her? All we do is live together. I'm not fucking her, I'm not-
He wasn't used to worrying about someone else, but he was worried about you and again Ben didn’t like it. He didn't like it so much that he almost walked back around the block to his previous date's apartment to see if she was ready to go for round three, but he didn't. Instead he went back to the motel room and tried to sleep, but he couldn't.
Over the past four days, each time Annie's phone rang or chirped he perked up hoping that it was you on the other line and every time it wasn't he seemed to sink further into the chair.
Ben puffed on the joint, but it wasn't as soothing as it had been in the past. The buzz wasn't taking the edge off the thoughts he had of you and it only pissed him off more.
Ben hadn't ever met anyone like you before. You were different and most of the time he never understood you, but he liked that about you. He liked that you were different than all the other women he had met in the past and he liked that you seemed to surprise him. He also thought that was why he liked talking to you, because he wanted to learn more about you so he could understand more.
Ben had never wanted to do that with anyone before, most of the time he just moved on, but not you. As much as he hated to admit it, it was making him want to spend more time around you, because you were interesting, odd, but interesting.
Especially because you kept refusing to sleep with him. It was a point of pride for him, being able to work whoever he wanted into bed with him, but not you. He had tried time and time again to get you to sleep with him using every trick in the book and yet, nothing.
Ben's mind flashes back to the other night at the party when you told him that you wouldn’t sleep with him was because you thought he "threw women away." It struck a nerve more than he thought it would when you said that to him. In fact, women had said similar things to him in the past, but he'd only laughed in their faces, but when you said it to him, it hit something deep inside that he thought he had locked away a long time ago. And weirder still Ben didn’t like it when you said that he wasn't "one for relationships" as if he couldn’t do it if he really tried.
I can do anything.
Ben downs the scotch in his other hand considering what you said and thinks of Countess. He thought that he'd loved her, he'd been in a relationship with her, an open one, but still it was something.
He remembered when you said that sex meant something to you and Ben had never met someone who felt that way before. Someone who thought that sex was special and should be shared with someone you loved. It was weird for him to consider that and Ben supposed that the only way he was ever going to have sex with you was if you fell in love with him or if he fell in love with you.
Yeah, like that'll fucking happen.
He rolled his eyes at the thought. He didn't think that he'd ever be able to fall in love with someone like you. Not with someone who infuriated him as much as you did and was so different than him in every way. Not when you made him angry and annoyed all the time because you refused to listen, talked back, and yelled at him.
The memory of you in his arms when he woke up four days ago surfaces and Ben swallows. He was going to kiss you, and you were going to let him, he knew it.
When he'd kissed you outside of your apartment the first night he came home with you, he'd only done it to make Mike leave you alone, but he hadn't expected to like it so much. And he'd wanted to kiss you badly when he woke up next to you. He thought you looked cute, your body soft against his, your hair flaring out over the pillow, your eyes wide, and your lips supple and welcoming. He'd wanted to trace his thumb over your lower lip, wanted to taste your lips again, and lose himself in everything you were.
I sound like a fucking pussy.
Ben sighed to himself again and closed his eyes, hoping to drown out his thoughts of you with the conversation Butcher and Annie were having over the laptop. MM was cleaning a gun and glaring at Ben while Kimiko and Frenchie were talking in rapid fire sign language that Ben couldn't understand and he wished you were there to translate or at least there to talk to him.
It's always so boring when she's not here.
Ben froze, thumb and middle finger pressed tightly on the blunt. He'd never done that before, never wanted a woman around to talk to, but that was what he meant. Even with Countess it was different. He wanted her around for a good fuck but they didn't talk about anything important and they certainly didn't sit around on the couch and watch his old films and he never sat with her while she read a book.
Ben's mind went back to the other day when you'd sat with him quietly on the other side of the couch, your gaze so focused on the pages of a book that you hadn't seen him watch you read. He noticed that when you did, you sometimes stopped breathing, like you'd forgotten that you needed to and whatever was in the book was more important than oxygen and that you sometimes formed the words with your lips as you did. Ben didn't know why he thought it was so interesting when you read, but he couldn’t look away. Sometimes during the day he'd have some free time from Butcher and he'd walk past the plant shop to see what you were doing and would see you sitting at the counter reading to yourself. He always thought about going inside, but you looked so peaceful that he didn’t want to interrupt you.
It was better than when he found you talking with that idiot Jake. Ben rolled his eyes to himself at the thought of your boss.
He definitely wants to fuck her. Ben sighs crossing his legs. And she wants him to. She shouldn't. She needs someone that'll actually be able to handle her. That guy's built like a fucking twig, not to mention he's not a supe.
Ben's jaw tightened with the thought of walking in on the two of you fucking in the apartment. You had made a rule about Ben not having any women there, but you'd never said anything about you bringing back someone. You hadn't yet and Ben hoped that you wouldn't bring Jake there anytime soon. His grip on the arm of the chair tightens to the point that he pierces through inside to the stuffing. Ben wasn't sure he'd be able to go into the apartment to listen to the two of you, let alone smell him all over you when you were done.
It was bad enough when you'd come back to the apartment smelling like the plant guy and Ben didn't want to experience what it was like after you'd had sex with him and have to smell him all over you. That also made him a little confused. Ben had fucked plenty of women who had significant others, women who threw themselves at him, and he hadn't cared about sharing. Not to mention Ben didn't get jealous, ever, whenever Countess had messed around with someone else at Herogasm Ben would watch, but with you… The sound of the arm of the chair breaking in his hand is audible when he thinks about someone else touching you, but no one else notices.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Why do I care? She's infuriating! And she's always so damn angry with me all the time that I'm pretty sure she'd never let me kiss her ever again let alone touch-
"Hello?" Annie held her phone up to her ear interrupting Ben's train of thought. "Oh hey Jake what's-"
Ben perked up at the sound of Jake's name with a frown. He hoped again that while he was gone you wouldn't sleep with him.
"I'm worried, I haven't heard anything from her and she didn't come in for her shift this morning." Ben heard Jake say on the other side of the line referring to you.
His muscles tensed slightly. Ben hadn’t wanted to leave you there with your brother, something about the guy made him antsy. Ben had met men like him in the past, men who used things like family and love to manipulate people into caring about him. He knew that  Darren was your brother and you were just so kind and open that you would do whatever he asked without question. 
Darren knew that. He knew exactly what to say to her to get her to give in.
Ben wondered how much you’d let Darren get away with in the past and quietly made a promise to himself that he wouldn't let Darren get anything out of you ever again for as long as Ben was around.
"Do you think she's running late?" Annie asks diplomatically, but Ben doesn’t miss the way her eyebrows scrunch together and the worried look she throws Hughie who is sitting across the table looking up at her.
"Not three hours. I tried to text her and when she texted back the message was weird." Jake presses.
"What do you mean weird?"
"Well, she used a lot of emoji's and she never does that."
Ben watched Annie's smile pull down into a frown. "Huh. Here I'm going to try to call her and I'll call you back okay."
"Sure."
Annie hangs up the phone and scrolls her finger on the screen to find your number.
"Everything alright?" Hughie asks leaning back in his chair.
"I'm not sure." Annie puts the phone up to her ear again.
Ben can hear the ringing on the other side of the line and he finds himself leaning forward, waiting for you to answer.
"Come on. Pick up the phone." Annie whispers while tapping her foot on the ground.
When you don't she opens the text thread of messages the two of you have and texts you. When you moved to the city the two of you had come up with phrases and words that you used to warn each other of danger. Annie insisted on it. Two single women living in a big city meant that the two of you were targets even if you were supes and as capable as the two of you felt handling your own, it was a comfort to have someone else.
Annie: Hey babe! I'm thinking about dying my hair blue again. Thoughts?
She waited patiently staring at the screen. Ben couldn't help but watch her with interest, he didn't know what was going on, only that Annie seemed to be worried. Something that he had never seen her be.
You: Hey girl! I think you should go for it! You always rock it.
Ben hears Annie's sharp intake of breath and rises from his chair understanding that something is wrong.
"Fuck." Annie mutters.
In middle school as an act of rebellion, Annie had tried to dye her hair blue with a box of cheap hair dye the two of you bought at the pharmacy in town while Annie's mother was away. But when it was done, something had obviously gone wrong. The dye must have been old or maybe just too cheap to do any good because it had dyed Annie's hair a vomit colored green. And to make matters worse, Annie had a terrible allergic reaction. It was that day the two of you realized that she was allergic to the chemicals most hair dyes. Her entire head had swelled up and she had to go to the Emergency Room.
Not to mention when Annie's mother showed up she told Annie she "deserved it" for doing that to her hair. The only way the Doctors could help her was to wash her hair out with bleach and then when that didn't work they cut it all off.
Annie had to wear itchy wigs for months after.
The correct response you were supposed to have was:
"Fuck no. Do you want to shave your head again?"
"Butcher-" Annie says raising her eyes from her phone.
"Yeah?" He doesn't look up from the map in front of him, trying to find out where the supe is hiding.
"We have to go back." She touches his shoulder to get his attention.
"Why?" Butcher looks at her annoyed, and he was. He had devoted a lot of man power to finding this supe and a lot of his own personal time. The last thing he was going to do is to come up empty handed.
Annie says your name. "Is in trouble."
"What do you mean?" Ben asks.
"She didn't show up to work today and she never just skips." Annie explains. "And we have code messages we made and she answered wrong." She holds out her phone to show Butcher the text thread.
“Hair dye?” Butcher still doesn’t look convinced.
“She knows I’m allergic. And she didn’t show up to work today.”
“Maybe she slept in-“ Butcher didn't want to drive all the way back to NYC for no reason, not when he believed he was close to catching the electric supe.
“She loves that job. And yes maybe she runs late, but she’d never just vanish or not go into work without calling Jake.” Annie pulls her phone back and begins to swipe through.
“What are you doing?” Ben questions. By now he could feel something unfamiliar tightening in his chest, a weird feeling that he couldn't place.
“We share our locations with one another.” Annie replies typing something on her phone. “I just have to find the app and-“ She looks down at the screen for a moment before raising it so Butcher can see. “See look! Why would she be all the way in Brooklyn?” 
“Maybe that’s where her brother took her.” Ben grunts taking another puff from the joint in his fingers, hoping that it will relieve some of the weird tension he was feeling, but it doesn't.
Annie swivels her head around to glare at Ben so fast he gets whiplash. "Wait a minute. Darren's in town? Why didn't you say anything?"
“Yeah. Fucker spent the night four days ago.”
“And you left her with him alone?"
“He was going to take her to meet his friend-”
“For fucks sake Ben, why didn’t you just slather her in honey and tie her to an ant hill?" Annie shouts waving her hands dramatically at him.
Guess she doesn't like him either.
"Well-"
Annie isn't interested in what he has to say, instead she begins to type something on her phone and raises it one final time to her ear.
"Where the fuck is she?" Annie snarls into the phone and it doesn’t take Ben much time to figure out that she's called Darren.
"Who?" The voice of your brother fills the phone and Ben's hands clench together into fists at his sides.
Ben can tell he's lying from just one word and he feels rage begin to replace the odd feeling, licking up against the walls of his chest like an unquenchable fire.
"You know who you fucking leech." Annie spits.
"I don’t know. I took her back to her place after she met my friend. Think they hit it off." Darren sounds casual and Ben can almost imagine the sick smirk on his face.
"If you’re lying, I’m going to roast you alive like the pig you are."
"Oh baby the way you talk to me."
"Darren I’m serious."
"I don’t understand why you’re getting your panties in a wad Annie. She’s fine. I took her back to the plant shop four days ago after she met my friend, because she wanted to go to work. I haven’t heard from her since."
"Darren-" Annie begins to say, but Ben crosses the room so fast he didn't remember moving and snatches the phone from Annie.
"Listen to me you little shit." Ben growls into the phone. "If she's fucking hurt I am going to show you what it's like to be turned inside out."
"Whoa easy there Benny boy I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but-"
"For your sake I hope you're telling the truth, because if you're not there's going to be no where for you to hide from me and there's not going to be enough left of you to wipe up with a tissue." Ben hits the off button on the phone call and as he does he realizes that everyone in the room is staring at him with wide eyes, but he ignores it.
"Oi what the fuck was that mate?" Butcher says, but Ben ignores him.
"You can either give me the fucking keys to your car or I can take them from what's left of you." Ben snarls. "You get to pick."
Butcher eyes him for a minute, considering. "Come on yank, let's go."
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A/N: And we have the reappearance of Elijah Black who is just as creepy as he was the first time. Maybe more? Wanted to throw in a little bit of Ben POV because it's a lot of fun to write and he's just so conflicted about everything, not to mention just as clueless as the reader when it comes to how he really feels.
As always thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are not required, but are always appreciated. Feedback is always welcome. If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this series please let me know :)
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