#I can’t do anything for now anyway because pain but oh my god I’m going insane I just want to draw pictures

[blaithnne]

AUGH I had hoped this would be next week but nope. Boats got cancelled. In other news I’m relocating to the bottom of the ocean

Fuck it the second I get my iPad back and my period ends I’m just doing my own sketchbook week (it’s the exact same as normal sketchbook week but it’s a week later and the universe stops trying to kill me)

[star2fishmeg]

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴡʀᴀᴘs

[4.4k] Pairing | bsf!Luke Hughes x bsf!afab!reader Summary | luke and y/n are tired of feeling left behind and help each other out…but in the company of their friends. but it makes a good story, right? Warnings | 18+ smut, kinda slow start, best friends to lovers, long haired luke!!! Bc I love long hair, umich!luke, (basically public) fingering, swearing, appearance and sex insecurities, tiny bit of angst but not really, mutual pining, making out Authors Note | im in such a luke brainrot it’s painful, this was supposed to be a blurb but I can’t control myself but anyway, this is my first hockey fic i hope its alright. Based on this after hours post! This is a work of fiction, please remember that my dudes

Luke felt like a creep. But she looked so at peace sitting on the lake's docks, feet dangling and toes skimming the water's surface. While she was nothing but a silhouette in the distance, the sunset cascading on the horizon complimenting her like a portrait in a museum. He also wasn’t sure on how long he’d been standing at the sliding patio doors, the UMich boy’s voices blended out into a white noise while his mind wandered to crevices of thoughts he’d been avoiding for months, but anything to escape Ethan and Luca’s conversations about girlfriend stories. Yes, he was happy for them, found it cute in fact, but when was it his turn to have that chapter in his life? He could have it if he didn’t panic and fumble at every party they threw, just a bit more alcohol and maybe he’d have a chance but like all victims of tragedy, no one would ever be her. Could ever replace her or even substitute her. So, while his curls bounced in the gentle breeze, Luke Hughes admired the only girl in the University of Michigan that’s ever made his heart ache and contort in bittersweet ways.

With a firm slap to his back, Luke’s daydream snapped back to reality, to Dylan Duke grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. The most painful thing Dylan had to endure since he met Luke was watching his friend follow y/n like a lost puppy begging for attention, and there was nothing more he wanted than for the two to just kiss already. They almost did, once, at someone’s birthday party when they both nursed a bottle of tequila. But Dylan never told them that, he wasn’t entirely sure if he dreamt it, if he was honest.

��Just go talk to her, be honest,” Dylan said with a light chuckle, nudging Luke towards the porch steps.

Luke’s legs stopped stiff, and spun to face Dylan in protest, “No! What do I even say? ‘Oh, hey y/n I know we’ve been friends for a while, but I’m in love with you haha hope this doesn’t make it awkward’? Like, come on.” With the way Dylan’s grin turned almost menacing, Luke felt his heart almost stop, his stupidity catching up with him, “This stays between us, Duker.”

He groaned and watched Dylan giggle his way back inside. Wingman or menace? Fine line, but at least he was better than Jack. Who quite literally tried trapping him and y/n in a closet when he found out, hoping for the best. Perhaps Dylan would actually help him get somewhere, he’d spent many parties coaxing Luke into making a move but Luke being the humble soul he took pride in, let her have her peace. Oh, how much he regretted it every time he heard her laugh because of another guy.

Thankfully the docks were at the far end of his garden, out of earshot and almost out of sight, if you weren’t spying. He stood silently, just taking in her very existence alone. If she weren’t wearing his hoodie so proudly, he would’ve sat down by now but the heat that flushed into his cheeks prominently just had to ease before he could show his face. Maybe she’d find it cute that his face flushed so easily, or maybe she’d think he was a fool for thinking he had a chance. Girls were hard to read, so many codes and hints, he couldn’t keep up with them all and God forbid you had an ugly code name. Watching her like that did raise the thought, what was his code name? Did he really want to know?

“I can feel you starin’,” her voice chimed, their eyes meeting as she craned her neck, “you gonna join or just stand?”

Luke’s lips pulled into his famous half-smirk, “I like lookin’ at pretty things, can you blame a man?” He sat next to her, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder like they usually did, the weight of his boldness lifting off his chest. “What’s runnin’ through that mind of yours?”

“Who said I was thinking about anything? Maybe I was finally catching a break from the zoo. Maybe I was thinking that you need a haircut.” Her laugh was like music to his ears, her voice his favourite song and every word that rolled off her tongue felt like ecstasy surging through him and freezing the world around them.

Spending a summer in a lake house was the only way y/n ever wanted to live. An oasis of serenity and laughs, endless memories, and an escape. But while she dipped her toes in the water, watching her reflection ripple, the everlasting thought that it was fleeting crawled its way back to the surface whether she wanted it to or not. The boys had been doing this longer than she had, it was her first time at the lake house and possibly her last. But there was nothing wrong with enjoying it while it lasted, being trapped under the same roof as the boys wasn’t as bad as she’d assumed. Except for the smells, they were straight-up disrespectful. Would she still love it as much if she was with other friends? Hard to say, if Luke was there, everything would be fine. Maybe a couple more girls would’ve been nice too, though.

“Please, you’re staring blankly, don’t try me.” Luke scoffed playfully, shoulder gently nudging hers as she rolled her eyes, unable to resist a gleaming smile. As much as she wanted to rebuttal, he was right. They’d met on the first week of university, Luke starting hockey practice and y/n starting as their new social girl and since then the pair of them had been two peas in a pod. Completely enamoured with each other, attached at the hip, where Luke went, he’d bring y/n, his person.  “Wait, you think I need a haircut? Is it that bad?”

She laughed, Luke, stooping so she could thread her fingers through his unruly curls gently, something only she was allowed to do, “Nah, I like your hair long, cut it and I’ll cut you.” They pulled back, sitting in their original postures and watched the sun’s pinks fade to oranges, “I was thinking about how many girls you’ve brought here.”

He blinked twice, turning his head slowly to face her and to his surprise his eyes met hers. There was a gloss to them, illuminated brightly by the sunset but like glass as if she were about to break. Heart beating in his ears, he licked his lips, almost quivering when he began to speak.

“Just you.” His voice just above a whisper, husky, “Only you. Always you.” Their gazes lingered, and his eyes fluttered to her lips for just a split second before he found himself licking his lips again, feeling his throat dry at the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. His heart ached, he didn’t have half the guts the Fantilli brothers did, if he had then maybe he would’ve at least wrapped his arm around her. Instead, he sat like he was paralysed, just shoulder to shoulder as she rubbed her bare foot against his leg, their skins touching, lighting little fires up his body and his stomach gaining a warmth he’d only felt in the after-hours of his bedroom.

“Lu?” she rested her head on his shoulder, staring back out towards the horizon, “Do you ever feel like you’re so far behind the people around you? Like you’re missing out.”

Luke leaned his head against hers, almost nuzzling into it as he thought. It was a heavy question, one that’d been weighing on her for a while. Or he assumed, considering she’d never openly asked the group. That’s what made him feel special. Her feet hung still, ending their teasing game and just fell limp. He exhaled, could he let his pride go and agree? Or could he completely one-up himself and disagree, which made him braver? He loathed the storms she started in him, thoughts he never imagined he would think in his hockey brain. One girl could change his entire train of thought, change his heartbeat, change his mood. One woman he pined like a lost puppy over.

“Sometimes. What do you mean?”

“Like, all my friends have these insane hook-ups and embarrassing sex stories and I have nothing. Yeah, I’ve had boyfriends before, but I was younger and stupid then. I go out with my friends and I’m basically invisible to any guy who approaches us, just feel unlovable. And now here I am, twenty years old and a fucking virgin with little experience and no wild stories.” She vented, barely taking a breath as the words spilt from her mouth. Luke’s chest twisted, his face softening when she snuggled into his side. “I don’t know where I’m going wrong, Lu.”

He paused and bit his lip when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her body into his chest. She melted into his touch, getting a whiff of his woody, amber cologne, her favourite one at that, the one he always wore. She’d never had the chance to properly relish in his touch, was his chest always this firm? Arms always bring this much security? Fuck, when did his hand get so sexy when on her body, gliding down her arm to nestle in the curve of her waist. With her ear pressed to him, the thundering in his chest surrendered his cover entirely. Cool and collected Luke Hughes was secretly a bumbling mess.

“I get you.” he finally spoke, ears burning when her finger traced shapes on his thigh, “My entire life has been hockey, so not a lot of space for experiences either. Not enough time for relationships between practice and games, development camps and time with family. A lot of the girls who liked me didn’t really like that. That or they liked my brothers and friends more, they are a lot more attractive than me, so I don’t blame them. M’just average.”

Y/n pulled away almost instantly, her eyebrows knitted and jaw agape. For a moment she thought she heard him wrong, ‘a lot more attractive than me’, ‘just average’? Delving into Luke’s psyche turned out to be an entirely different road trip than she had thought, heartstrings tugged as her lips fell to a frown. Who in the world made him feel like that? Who did she need to hunt down? But then again, Luke’s blood boiled hearing how insignificant she felt and who exactly made her think that to start with?

“Luke Hughes you are not average! You’re the hottest guy I know!” she yelped, the hand that drew gentle patterns now clutching his thigh tight. Luke gulped but didn’t retract away from the noise. His brain was too busy short-circuiting over the fact her fingers were dangerously close to his crotch, doing his best to contain himself with slow breaths, “They just didn’t give you a chance, if they really knew you, they’d be heads over heels. You’re so fucking smart, and passionate. And-and if they saw you smile for real, not a half-smile, your full smile with your teeth, the one that feels like a warm summer’s day. It’s their loss, they’ll never know how sweet you are, that after a bad game, you want steak and head scratches, that you’re sentimental as fuck- like you wear that Yankees hat because Quinn got it for you when you fell ill and couldn’t make the game. You’re not average.”

Luke blinked, once, twice and thrice as her eyes bored into his, glazed with fire as the words tumbled from her mouth and circled his head. He watched the way her body rose and fell as she caught her breath, the grip on his thigh tightening and heat rising through his body. He felt the sweat building on the back of his neck, his collar suddenly becoming too tight. She thought he was hot? She remembered such little details about him like they’d known each other since they were kids. The hand around her waist slid to her lower back, his thumb rubbing the fabric of her (his) hoodie unconsciously.

He smiled, his warm smile she mentioned, where his eyes wrinkled and his chin tilted up triumphantly, “The hottest guy you know, huh?”

Y/n’s face dropped. Never in her life had she experienced her heart stop the way it did hearing those words. She stared like a deer in headlights, she slipped up and the heat rushing to her cheeks burned. This is what happens when you let your feelings take over, you make a fool of yourself in front of the one person who would never want to. She sighed, hung her head and hid her face in her hands, the butterflies in her stomach choking her when Luke let out a saccharine chuckle that made all the flowers bloom.

Large, warm hands wrapped around her wrists with a feather touch, and slowly pulled her hands away from her face and into her lap, soothing her nerves with a gentle rubbing of her knuckles with his thumbs. Although his hands felt clammy, the tingling in his stomach became too addicting to care about it too much anymore.

“Don’t hide,” she was radiant under what was left of the tangerine hues, eyes almost sparkling, “let me see that pretty face.”

She hesitantly raised her head, eyes meeting his and her body relaxed. She had no idea why she was so embarrassed, he hadn’t gagged, laughed in her face nor had he physically repulsed. Instead, he looked at her like she’d hung out the stars for him, wide eyes with rose-tinted ears.

“I think you’re very pretty too. Beautiful even, I-“ he hesitated, “you have no idea how many times I’ve thought about kissing you, asking you out. Honestly, the idea of you rejecting me is terrifying so I never did, plus, I’ve never kissed anyone before, and I didn’t wanna fuck it up.”

Her eyes fluttered to his lips, the world around them falling silent until it was just them in their own bubble. Luke gulped, his eyeline following the way she flickered between his eyes and his mouth before he found their bodies leaning into one another, noses ghosting. His hands released her wrists, one arm snaking around her waist sending an electric tingle through her veins and holding her firmly close. They’d been this close before, sure. Multiple occasions of having his arms around the back of the sofa they sat snug on, arm hooked around her shoulders because some guy couldn’t get the memo at bars, in fact, the root cause of their problem was undeniably because everyone assumed they were together except them.

Y/n’s palm held his cheek tenderly, the hot, carnal desire to devour the boy only being released from its cage when he melted into her touch as if he was opening his doors to vulnerability.

“I can teach you if you like,” she whispered, her thumb tracing across his bottom lip. Luke’s fingers gripped her waist as if she couldn’t be any closer than she already was, but he couldn’t risk letting her slip from his grasp again. He wanted to erase all those other guys who’d kissed her, he would be the last guy on Earth to taste the lips that words and giggles laced with a honey-like sweetness that cradled his heart.

“God, please-“  his heart beat twice as fast, y/n leaning in, closing the gap between them and pressing her lips gently to his. If he were to die right there, he’d die the happiest man alive. Her lips were soft and warm, igniting every firework inside of him and adrenaline shaking him back to life. He could do this for hours, drinking in her citrus fragrance, lips mimicking the way she moved hers against his. If she was a match, he was kerosene and he’d let her set him ablaze over and over if it meant he could feel like the only man in the world until the end of time.

They pulled away, eyes fluttering open to an exchange of giggly smiles. Despite it being a closed-mouth kiss, nothing extra, just soft and sweet, Luke’s thoughts raced at a million miles per hour. All the weight on his shoulders lifted and he nuzzled into her palm, placing a kiss on it.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, his puppy-like gaze almost distracting her from how his skin burned pink in her palm. But in a way, all her previous anxieties dissipated like dust in the wind, tummy flipping at the pathetically sweet and lovestruck expression spread on Luke’s face, “Your face is so red. Are you okay?-”

“-Can we do that again?” He pleaded, quickly, desperately, a certain yearning feeling on his lips that he couldn’t quite describe, except that he needed to taste her again. He needed more, so much more to quench his thirst, a kind of fuzziness he felt in his core.

“Uh- yeah, let me show you what a real kiss is.” No hesitation was needed, y/n’s hand slid from his cheek to the nape of his neck, fingers carding through his curls as she roughly connected their lips again, messier, teeth chattering from the impact. Luke’s other hand found comfort on her thighs, pulling them over his lap and giving gentle squeezes, moaning when y/n bit his lower lip. He opened his mouth with ease, failing to hold back another moan when her tongue lapped his. He wasn’t sure how to react, he’d never made out with anyone and it’s not like his brothers would’ve explained it well either. So, he repeated her movement, his tongue dancing with hers with saliva lubricating their lips each time they dove back in to devour each other. Y/n tugged his curls lightly, pulling him closer, savouring the kindling arousal leaking into her panties with the way he craved her.

Luke pulled away to breathe, his chest heavy but shorts becoming tight with the intense and fiery eye contact that screamed nothing but lust, “You,” he kissed her again, fervently, “taste,” another kiss, “amazing.” He mumbled into her lips and their tongues stirred again, whimpers drawing from the back of her throat when his hand travelled further up her thigh, under her shorts and found solace on the skin only he could touch. Any further and she couldn’t promise she wouldn’t pounce, her underwear was soaked through and sticking to her folds and even one measly brush on her clit would open the floodgates.

A foreign burst of confidence washed over him, and he detached their lips, a string of saliva between them and her hand still tugging at his curls and whether intentional or not, he discovered something carnal clawing away inside him. Wetting his lips, he dove into her neck, planting wet kisses along her column and nipping in the hope of hearing her mewl again. Y/n tilted her head to the side, giving him free rein over her skin and her jaw slacking, whining his name with her thighs clenching together for any kind of friction. As he began to run his hand along her thigh, his pocket vibrated continuously, earning a growl to rumble from his throat.

“Fuck, why’d you stop?” y/n whined, hand falling from his hair to his chest. Luke pulled his phone from his pocket with a disgruntled look, of course, his moment was ruined. Swiping the notification away, he clicked his tongue, sliding his phone back into his shorts.

His arms wrapped around her waist, and looked back into her adoring yet disappointed eyes, “Dylan wants to know if we’re joining them for a movie.”

“I’m quite happy staying here with you.”

“Who says we have to watch the whole movie?”

Silence hung over the living room, only the TV blaring and the light crunching of popcorn from different directions. The lights were off, just the TV and three boys crammed on one sofa, and three plus y/n on the other. Luke, y/n, Rutger and Adam on the sectional directly opposite the TV, Luke occupying the end with the chaise for his legs, and y/n sat between them and huddled under a blanket. Rutger sat in the middle with Adam on the furthest end. Dylan, Luca and Ethan huddled together on the sofa adjacent to the TV, popcorn littered between them from missing mouths and flinching.

Luke’s hands wrapped around her waist, keeping her snug against his chest while she slowly chewed Haribo’s, feeding them to him now and then. While his heart skipped beats, feeling like a meadow of tulips blooming in the Spring, y/n’s wiggling against his crotch lured all the heat and butterflies from earlier straight back to his stomach, sending it into twists and turns. Heat flushed to his neck when she pushed her arse back into him, in an innocent attempt to readjust. A deep exhale through his nose and his hands slithered to her thighs, fingers kneading the flesh like dough as his head dipped into her shoulder, breath hot on the skin and making her hairs stand on edge.

“Stop wigglin’, pretty girl,” he whispered into the shell of her ear, placing a kiss, “you’re drivin’ me crazy.”

She froze, body falling limp into his as he ran his hands under her hoodie, his stiffened cock poking into her backside as she caught on to what his problem was. The sex-deprived whore in her awakened with a jolt, his cock solid because of her, and there was nothing she wanted more than to feel him pressed up against her, unable to find his release and have the rasp of his voice reverberate through her being as her vibrator. 

“And if I don’t?” she whispered back, as close to him as possible without being heard. Instead of answering, Luke dipped his fingers down her shorts, middle finger brushing against her clothed clit. His eyes locked to the screen in front of him, resisting the urge to smirk when her breath hitched but continuing to glide his finger – in what was a lucky guess – over her bundle. She squirmed, clamping her thighs together, only to have them pried open by his free hand.

“Be a good girl and keep quiet, unless you want to be caught.” His playful tone sent chills down her spine, goosebumps swarming on her neck but melting into his touch. She plopped another sweet into her mouth, chewing intensely when Luke drew his long fingers away, only for her to feel them caress over her skin, cold on her warm body, and down her panties. To describe the sensation that zipped through her when the pad of his middle finger reunited with her clit would be the same shock if you were to be struck by lightning: sudden and sharp, rattling up the spine.

Y/n placed the bag of sweets in her lap, tucking both hands under the blanket with the hope of seeming less suspicious, but her hand skimmed down his arm and placed itself on his, slowly guiding his movements on her nub until he got the idea. Firm yet gentle circular movements, the slick seeping from her warm on his fingertips, so inviting he wished he could have a taste. She pulled the blanket to her chin, not only to cover Luke’s sudden mood but to form some form of distraction from the fuzzy feeling rising to her head. No, she’d never had this before, so the experience itself embraced her tight, addicting like nicotine.

He kissed her temple, two fingers sliding into her cunt almost perfectly, too perfect that another Haribo was abused between her teeth as her breathing struggled to remain neutral. The moan that would’ve slipped past if she hadn’t been concentrating would’ve been embarrassing enough. Luke began languid plunges into her, relishing in the way her walls squeezed his fingers tight, keeping shallow at first. The more her pussy swallowed him in their wetness, the faster his mind spiralled in greed and his pace sped up, y/n’s nails digging deep into his leg, leaving crescent shapes on the skin. The heat pooling in her stomach was riveting, knowing she would finally have an insane story to tell even more so. No one could say that Luke Hughes’ tongue tasted theirs like it was the best meal he’d ever lapped up and that he’d watched a movie with his friends while pushing the limits of both his and their sanity publicly.

With a rush of adrenaline and her nails marking him, he buried his fingers deep into her cunt, driving swiftly and curling in places that made her wriggle against him, his free hand having to hold her hips still with a bruising grip and his cock begged for attention in his shorts. Y/n popped two more sweets in her mouth, relying on their gummy nature to suppress the moans that threatened to tear through her as the knot inside her came dangerously close to snapping with the way he bullied her pussy with his bare hands. His breathing fell deep and shuddered, his heart infatuated with the ecstasy of finger-fucking the woman of his dreams in front of an entire room of his friends hammered in his chest while his face struggled to stay indifferent and jaw tight like his cock isn't throbbing violently and straining against her arse. Like she wasn’t bucking her hips into his touch like he couldn’t tell that her heart was going haywire because of just him alone. If this was what foreplay was like, the idea of piledriving balls deep in her until she couldn’t remember her name was divine.

He dragged out his last pumps, the knot in her stomach snapping and coating his fingers in hot, sticky release, kissing her temple upon her body physically shuddering. Y/n pulled the blanket up to her chin as if she had shivered naturally, stuffing her mouth into the fluffy material. Luke pulled his fingers out, wiping the residue on his shorts, practically drooling over the image of milking her dry. His arms snaked around her waist, snuggling close. Y/n sighed, slumping back into him. On the outside Luke was his collected and cool self, his breathing stable and attention on the movie, the heat in his face and hands that rested on her stomach, soothing her heart rate screamed that he was the happiest guy in the room. With every gentle stroke of his thumb on the flesh of her stomach, her heart soothed and her eyelids became increasingly heavier.

"Was that story worthy?" He whispered, kissing her cheek sweetly.

Luke’s pocket buzzed and he tutted, carefully sliding it from his pocket and unlocking it, trying his best to prevent the screen from blinding everyone.

Duker idk if ur freaky or brave u dog

Luke closed his phone and looked up towards Dylan, who sat with a shit-eating grin. He smiled and shook his head, mouthing a subtle, ‘this stays between us’.

[Masterlist]

[Requests CLOSED]

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[totallynotashieldagent]

Kinktober - Pain

Pairing: Logan Howlett/Reader

“Are you sure?” You asked, biting your lip. 

Logan nodded, his hands resting on your thighs as you sat on his abdomen. “I like it, honey…” He said slowly. “Always did.” 

It was a new thing. Well, for you it was new. But apparently, for him, he wasn’t. He’d played around with it and enjoyed it. But now, he wanted to do it with you. But you were… unsure. You didn’t want to hurt him. Which was ironic. Seeing as no matter what, he couldn’t be hurt. 

“We don’t have to.” He offered gently. 

“No!” You said too fast. “I mean- No- No, I- I want to make you feel good. I do. But I’ve never- What do I even-” 

“It’s okay.. I’ll guide you through it. Alright?” He assured you. “We’ll start as we do-” He pushed you down until your pussy was sitting pretty on his cock. You nodded and rocked your hips slowly, grinding against him but not taking him in. “Good girl-” The praise made you smile a bit. “And-” He leaned over and pulled out a small knife from his bedside drawer, handing it to you, “Go nuts with it.” 

“W-What?” You blinked, your rhythm faltering a bit as you looked at the sharp small blade. “Anywhere?”

“Anywhere. Anyway. As deep as you want.” Logan smirked, his hands resting on your hips again, guiding the movements slowly so you didn’t have to put in a lot of work. “Fuck, darlin’, you always feel so good-” 

You giggled, slightly toying with the knife as he moved you on his veiny dick. 

“Anything?” You asked again, just to be sure. He nodded a little too eagerly. 

“Everything else stays the same-” He added.

“So, I can…” The blade dragged across his chest and abdomen as you grinded against his cock slowly. Never cutting but just scratching his skin with the promise of what was to come. His breath broke a little but he wasn’t there yet. 

This was more than what you’d done. You’d clawed at his back. You’d bitten him until he bled. You’d even overstimulated him and pressed your foot against his balls until he fucking whimpered but a blade was new and it was starting to feel exciting. 

“Ready?” You bit your lip, a hand pressed down on his stomach to balance yourself, the other holding the blade tightly. Logan nodded, his eyes blown with excitement. 

It started small. A nic on his cheek. A cut on his neck. All the while grinding down against him. His breath was now coming in short puffs, his blunt nails were digging into your thighs as he tried to keep the momentum going. Because twice when he faltered, you gave him an x over his chest. He laughed- he fucking laughed that turned into a moan because he liked it so much. 

The praise that fell from his mouth made your cunt drip so much that there was a squelching sound as you moved over his thick cock. 

You’re doing so good- Yes, sweetheart, just like that. Fuck, that feels so good. You’re such a natural. Makin’ me feel so good- God, I can’t wait to fuck you right-

Logan just kept going. He was covered in fresh blood and healed skin as you moved. Your clit being brushed the right way as you whined his name softly. You knew you were starting to get close, but you wanted to focus on him, but it was starting to get harder. It just felt so- so- 

“Mh- Oh god- Logan-” You gasped, grinding harder, “I- I’m-” Accidentally, stabbing him in the ribs as you came with a soft cry. “Fuck! Sorry- Sor-” Your apologies died as his cum shot in thick ropes across his stomach, chest and chin, mixing with the blood. “Oh god-” You blinked in shock, laughing a moan, twisting the blade, making him moan, his eyes rolling back as his hips arched enough to make you bounce. 

“Fuck- Sweetheart-” He growled, his claws coming out, just about missing you. 

“Careful!!” You squeaked as he flipped you over, his cock hard again. 

“My turn, honey.” He laughed, his claws retracting, the blade still stuck in his ribs as he pushed his leaking dick into your needy pussy.

Kinktober 2024.

[wokeupchrisbrezy]

Love?

Lando Norris

Warnings : Smut, cheating (on reader's part), angst (yes no maybe so??)

You love him. Of course you do. 

Your mind tried to convince your heart at least. You loved your boyfriend. Key word: Loved. He didn’t do anything wrong. He was the epitome of a perfect boyfriend. Kind, Sweet, Loving, Understanding. The list goes on. He was beautiful. A beautiful being, soul and all.

But…

Why did it feel like you were missing something? Like your heart yearned for more? What more could you have? You have security and love. It's selfish in all honesty. Selfish to want more. For something else. Something new and exciting.

That’s the problem. It isn’t exciting anymore. There are no risks. All support and security.

With problems, comes solutions. Your solution was sitting on your couch, with a smug smile adorning his lips, listening to you list your, so called, issues with your current boyfriend.

You can’t get risk and thrill from something that secures you. It simply can not happen. You’re in the prime of your life, a time for risk and adrenaline, and you’re complaining about a man, your boyfriend, because he is stable and supportive.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

What an asshole, right?

Anyways, snap out of it. Let’s focus on the damned solution that's sitting on your couch.

This so-called solution is a pain in your ass, but god, he was gorgeous. He was the visual of what you wanted, what you needed…

He knew it too. He wanted to lure you in. To capture you in his intoxicating grasp. You’ve seen, firsthand, of the flings and one night stands he has. They’re messy. Fallout and all. Gross honestly. No Wattpad Netflix movie adaptation could compare.

“Oh my god. Why are you still with him? He’s so… boring. So simple.” He mused as his thumb pressed small circles into the thickness of your thigh. “Be real with yourself. You don’t like him anymore.”

His touch seemed so foreign and familiar at the same time.

“I do love him. He’s my boyfriend.” A sigh left your mouth.

“Ah, I didn’t say love. I said ‘like’.” He corrected you. His touch wandered a little further. Testing the waters. “You can love someone but not like them. You care for him obviously but you just don't like him anymore. You need a taste of something new.” He gave you a look. What look? No clue but it was a look that reeked of innuendo.

The response on your face gave away your longing to let go. To fall into the deep depths of adventure but your loyalty kept you anchored. For now.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Your voice was barely audible.

“Like what?” His response was immediate.

His smirk never went away. He was painfully aware of what he was doing.

“I don’t want to break up with him.” You mentioned.

“Yeah… But… If you keep going on like this, you’re just emotionally and mentally cheating. Hurting you and him in the end.” His tone became serious but his hands sinned with desire. His touch kept persisting, toying with the lines of what friends were. Not enough to have a visual effect on your face but enough to make you squirm.

“You’re right.” You murmured.

“You just need a sample of something new then you’ll make up your mind…” He reasoned. The expression in his eyes was killer. Alluring and taunting. Reeling you in bit by bit. 

Should I? 

The question was consuming your mind. You should leave it unanswered.

How desperate did he have to be to flirt with his friend? 

Your hand grabbed his wrist to stop his fingers from lingering further. “What happened to that girl from the club? Why aren’t you bothering her?” You inquired.

His eyebrows furrowed for a split second before he brushed it off with a laugh. “Oh, her? She’s acting like we’re something… some shit like that. I picked her up once and now she thinks I’m in love.” The way he spoke was a red flag. He acted like she was a burden. Such a turn off honestly.

Great… a whore and an asshole.

He could tell that he probably pissed you off with his tone. “I just told her that I didn’t mean to give off those vibes and shit.” This time, his tone was gentle and kind. Just enough to show you that he wasn’t a complete manwhore. He still was though.

“Uh huh…” You didn’t sound too convinced.

He pushed himself off the back of your couch and turned to face you fully. His hand ran from your mid calf to upper thigh. Goosebumps formed in the wake of his touch. “You should dump him. You’re obviously not happy.” His tone became firm again. His body leaned towards yours. 

Maybe it was a bad idea to be laying in the corner of your couch. An easy way to be contained.

“Don’t you miss being able to go where you want without telling anyone. Being able to hang out with anyone…” His voice became more and more sensual as he drew on. “Fucking who you want without consequences?” His cheek brushed yours as his voice ghosted your ears.

Your eyes lock. You want to stop. To tell him no. To be faithful.

The pull is too much. It’s too powerful.

In an instant, your lips lock. The makeout is messy and exciting. Lust drove to your core. His hands hastily pull off your clothes so he can bless his eyes with the sight of your body. 

Your shirt ended up behind the couch, into the abyss of the unknown, as his hands ran from your waist to your covered breasts. His fingers disappeared behind your back to unclip your bra. A small hiss left your lips at the coldness of his hands. Soon your black bra, ol’ faithful, was stripped off your body.

The sight of his eyes made your stomach turn into knots. It looked like he was about to ravage you. His eyes automatically glued to your breasts. Your eyes never met once your shirt came off. It was like your face didn’t exist.

What did you expect?

“Are you just gonna stare?” You murmured out.

“Let me take in the view.” He shot back as he pushed your legs over his shoulders. You were not glad he assumed you were flexible. This man was going to bend you twenty-two ways till Thursday. 

He pulled off your sweatpants then your panties before he discarded them onto the floor. Your thighs almost met your upper body before he sunk down. A small warmth from his breath ghosted over your inner thighs. He was obviously taking in the sight. 

And when he leaned in…

“This is unfair.” You said before stopping his head with your hand.

“What are you talking about?” He huffed in damn near frustration.

“I’m butt-ass naked and you’re still fully clothed. Strip.” You ordered.

“Yes ma’am.” He said with a mock salute. He gave you a show. Standing up and slowly taking his shirt off so you can bask in the sight of his toned torso. His hands playfully unbuckled his belt before teasingly pushing down his pants and underwear.

“You could be a stripper.” You blurted out while withholding a laugh.

“And I bet you’d be the number one customer.” He smirked before climbing in between your legs.

Your thighs made perfect earmuffs for him. His head dipped between your legs, earning a small squeeze around his head from your thighs and a gasp from your lips. 

“Could’ve at least warned me…” You scoffed before the playful irritation left your face in turn of pleasure.

Pleasure bubbled up in your upper chest as your breath got caught in the top of your throat. Small breaths left your mouth before quiet moans took their place. Your eyes were half-lidded as you started down at his brown curls, your manicured hand lightly grabbing them.

His tongue ran up and down your slit before dipping into your entrance. Wet noises were filling some silence along with your minute whines and moans. His hands gripping onto your thighs as he let out a small groan. His eyes were closed as he reveled in your taste and feel. It was obvious he did this for himself, not for you. This was never for you. He just wanted to get his dick wet. A taste of new pussy he hasn’t discovered yet.

He easily slipped two fingers into you as his tongue traveled up to your clit. His ring and middle finger curled to hit that exact spot that would make your hips buckle and back arch.

And that is exactly what you did. A louder and choked gasp escaped as your hips rolled towards his mouth. A sickening smile appeared on his mouth as he pulled back. “I think you’re prepared enough, yeah?” He suggested as his fingers left you. 

His fingers were glistening with your juices before he adjusted your legs. Your ankles were right by his ears.

His cock prodding at your entrance before he positioned himself right. You held your breath as you waited for the addictive stretch. A second later, your wish was granted. A small line formed on your lips as you tipped your head back. 

He didn’t move after he finally sank all the way. He pushed a little bit more just to toy with you. 

You felt the tips of his fingers poke at your bottom lip. You stare up at him, maintaining eye contact, as you open your mouth slightly. He pushed his two fingers in, making you taste yourself.

“You taste amazing, right?” He teased before he began to grind his hips. The grinding eventually turned into shallow thrusts.  Your head lazily nods before pulling back to rid your mouth of his fingers. 

His eyebrows furrowed and his head snapped up. He was watching his cock disappear and reappear from the heaven between your thighs. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and, almost harshly, held the sides of your face with his hand. From your left cheek to the left corner of your lips were covered with saliva. 

Disgusting… ish? Who knows. Not me, that’s for sure. Whatever floats your boat, I guess.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. His hand let go of your face, almost pushing it away, and grabbed your hips. He pulled you further underneath him. This caused his angle to get deeper and deeper and deeper. A small groan left his lips and his pace increased.

It wasn’t long before he was taking you to pound town. Your muscles in your legs were tensing ever so often as he kept hitting your g-spot over and over again. Your walls clenched around him, earning more groans and grunts from him. “Fuck…” He murmured out.

A small layer of sweat covered his torso, adding to the deliciousness that was his body. Your hips rolled a couple times just to add to the friction. Moans bounced off the walls of your apartment. 

Noise violation #4.

Your hand traveled in between your bodies to show your clit some much needed TLC. Small and slow circles were drawn before his hand took over. He hastily rubbed your clit which made your body jerk back before moving against his hand. He wanted you at his mercy. Under his control. Only feeling what he does to you. Only his hands. Only his lips. 

Only him. Selfish much? 

Multiple thoughts ran through his mind. Mostly were random, just something else to think about so he doesn’t bust too quickly. The others were about your relationship. Not the relationship between the two of you, but your relationship. The one between you and your boyfriend. Did he feel guilty? No. But, he did feel somewhat bad for your boyfriend. Then again, it’s not his fault that your boyfriend can’t fuck like he can. Your boyfriend doesn’t possess boyfriend dick. 

Your face contorted into pleasure ridden expressions as your hands scratched along his back and shoulders. Your moans became more frequent and whiny. His name fell from your lips like a mantra. Chanting it like it would answer your prayers. 

He was answering at least one prayer. Anyway who…

You constricted around him tightly. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck—” You gasped out. “I’m gonna cum.” Your back arched off the couch as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. His hand returned to your clit in aid. The high went over you as choked sobs left your lips. Melodic sounds left his own throat as he continued to pound into you. “Shit—” He huffed. He hammered into you faster as you came down from cloud nine in chase of his release. Labored breaths left his mouth. “Fuck, where do you want it, babe?” The nickname slipped out of his lips.

“Out. Out. I don’t care where. Just out.” You hastily answered his question, ignoring the nickname.

A couple more deep thrusts tore through you before he pulled out. Emptiness consumed your insides before you felt the warm and thick liquid on your breasts. A stupid smirk adorned his lips as he stroked his cock. Your calves were resting on the contours on his chest. His hands ran from your hips to your ankles. 

His right went up and down your slit a couple times before inserting his middle finger. He quickly took it out after a small shiver ran up your spine. He stared down at you in silence before licking off his fingers. He made sure to sexually suck off his fingers which earned an eye roll from you. 

He mocked your muffled moans from earlier as he did. A small laugh left his throat after.

He removed your legs from his torso and stood from the couch. He slid his underwear and pants before wandering into your kitchen. You sat up and let out a small groan. Half out of approaching soreness and the other half from the cum that pearled on your chest.

He came back with a wet paper towel and cleaned up his mess. He couldn’t help but grab a handful of your breasts before throwing away the paper towel. 

“You are the epitome of a teenage boy.” You said as you swatted his grabby hands away.

You could hear him snickered before he came back.

He finished dressing himself before throwing your clothes at you. He was really pissing you off by now. You were so tempted to kick him out but you knew it wouldn’t have helped anything.

“Call me when you finally leave his sorry ass.” He blurted out, in a simple, almost cold, tone as he buckled his belt. “I don’t fuck with actively cheating bitches more than once. Let me know how it goes though, as a friend… not a fuck buddy.” He added.

Surprise flashed over your features before restoring back to neutrality. “Oh? So you wouldn’t fuck me again?” A small bite in your tone showed.

He shook his head and smirked. “I said ‘call me when…’” “I’ll spell it out for your dumbass. I will fuck you again but only when you’re single.” He taunted you. You pulled your shirt over your head and fixed it around your hips. You picked up your phone and your soul almost left your body.

Either your boyfriend called you or you called your boyfriend. But it didn’t deny the fact that the seconds kept adding up on the call. You felt a headache coming on as his face concealed no empathy.

Bet that fucker would say, “Told you so.”

You were hesitant to speak. So you didn’t. Your finger ended the call between you and your boyfriend so fast. Your phone buzzed with messages that you didn’t even bother reading at this point in time.

Fuck…

[marypaol]

3rd Of December

Percy Jackson x fem!reader (AU)

Summary: She remembers the 3rd December, but she wishes more than anything that she was Annabeth.

Warnings: Self hated, angst angst angst, crying, insecurities, self doubt, negative mindset, etc all that good stuff.

Note: This is inspired by the wonderful song “Heather” by Conan Gray so listen while reading if desired! Also, there isn’t going to be a part two, it’s just a little story to get going again because I took such a long break from writing I need to get back into it!! :) (Also my only Percy story, sorry!)

Also thanks so much to my followers for their great patience!

If I recall, I still remember. Of course I would. It was the night my butterflies came flying back, the night where I was wrapped in a sweater flooded with his scent, the night of the third of December.

The night my heart sang and blossomed into what would later turn into deadly rose thorns, poking at my heart until it ripped into shreds.

I desperately wished I could go back- go back to the night where my heart was fine, where it was beating without a problem as I stared into those sea green eyes that I was practically drowning myself in (no pun intended) since I was staring at them for so long. Mind as well do so, I would rather be dead at sea then experience what my chest was feeling right now.

But I’m stuck in the present. Stuck in this pain of having to watch them two, her wearing his sweater now.

Being stuck here doesn’t stop me from going back mentally, for when I close my eyes at night my mind goes back to that night, for it has once again done it tonight as I feel my sheets beneath me.

My third of December went as this:

“You cold?” I heard him say. I looked over from where I was shivering. We laid on a slide at a playground outside of town, the starry sky watching over us. Although I didn’t want to admit it, I looked into his eyes and couldn’t bring myself to lie to him.

“A little.” I finally responded. I soon regretted my action of speaking truth once he sat up, his hands fiddling with his sweater before pulling it over his black hair and setting it in my arms. “Here.” He said with a small smile.

“But you’ll be cold, Perce.” I protested softly, sitting up slightly and I could feel my hair sticking to the slide due to static.

Percy gently fixed it, making my cheeks flush but thank the gods he can’t see it due to the dark.

He smiled at me assuringly. “I’ll be fine. Trust me I was kinda warm anyway.”

Despite the fact I was still hesitant, I still wanted to be indulged in his scent, I wanted the sea and salt to be something that surrounded me for the rest of the night. So I pulled the polyester clothing over my head, and, as predicted, the pure smell of Percy Jackson evolved me within seconds. I almost wanted to pull it to my nose, to not only have a piece of him on me but in me, close within my chest.

“It looks better on you than me.” He mutters. I turn to him, a shy blush covering my cheeks so I hide it with the collar, taking more of his scent without him knowing.

‘Only if he knew’ I thought, back to the present time and staring at my ceiling with glossy eyes. ‘How much I adore him.’

But he’d never know. Oh gods no. I couldn’t bear to tell him how much I look forward to seeing his smile and how his eyes twinkle when he talks about something that I interests him. He was pure perfection in my eyes and my heart practically beats for him, but I doubt he felt the same way as I. How could he love someone like me when there are so many other perfect girls waiting for his arms?

Little did he know how much I hold onto that moment, how much I replay it in my head. It replays over, and over, and over, and over again.

How many times am I going to replay the memory just to make myself feel less lonely?

But once again before I go to sleep I thought back to it, back to his curved lips that I desperately wanted to kiss, back to his sea green eyes I wanted to get caught looking into, back to his messed up hair I wanted to place my hands in.

Back to when it felt like he was mine.

But I watch him as she walks by. Her prefect figure that I so wished I had. I would transform myself for him. Anything he wanted me to be I would, but I know deep down I would always want to show my true self to him.

I watch him today, at lunch, his green eyes walking her walk by. Her appearance, as always, is perfect. Brighter than a blue sky, Percy’s mesmerized by her, Annabeth, also known as Wise Girl.

All while I die.

‘She’s so much prettier than I am.’ I think, my eyes drifting over her. ‘I wish I looked like her.’ My eyes drift back to Perce, his sparkling eyes still on her.

‘Damn it, Percy.’ I think, my eyes digging so far into the side of his head I hoped he felt it. ‘Just please look at me for once.’

But why would he? I’m not pretty, and I’m not smart like she is. I’m not even half as pretty so why would be ever look at me, let alone kiss me?

It wasn’t until I saw them two at the playground hang out that I lost it. My chest burned as I say the polyester material around her figure, her hair touching the fabric as she walked around, a wide smile on her flawless lips. And as my blurry eyes looked down, I saw her smooth hand held in Percy’s. The same playground he gave me his sweater. The same slide I laid on as I got lost in his eyes.

My Percy.

‘He’s not yours.’ A voice inside my head told me, reminded me, but my heart still hurt all the same, and the events of the hang out seemed very unappealing now.

With wobbly legs and blurry eyes, I sped walked to my apartment door, my hands shaking with the knob before slamming it.

The tears came full force, my nose tingling and eyes burning as waterfalls fell down my cheeks. I crawled into my bed after putting on a sweatshirt, wishing it was his, using the sleeves to hopelessly wipe the tears.

The blankets swallowed me as the tears soaked my face. The sobs were muffled my the sleeves, my heart cracking when I couldn’t help but think of his smile.

I wish I were Annabeth.

*Bonus* (Percy’s POV)

“Do you think it’s working? Does she look jealous?” I ask the girl beside me, my hand feeling poisonous in hers. I so wanted to rip my hand from her grip, and she did so as soon as my love was out of sight, walking into her apartment quickly, the one across from the playground the friend group hung out at this evening.

“I think,” Annabeth started, leaning forward a little after wiping my touch off her hands with her shorts. Her voice got softer than before, and my heart stumbled from the next words. “That you’re breaking her.”

—

-I hope you liked it! By the way, there isn’t going to be a part two, it’s just one part until further notice. :)

[papil0nglegs]

Hello hello helloooo. Saw you wanted tf2 request! So herr comes something.

What about the mercs with a gnSO who has a puppy crush on them? I think that would be really cute. Eould really want spy in there but pick whoever you want :))

Tf2 x Puppy love!Reader

warning: suggestive, manipulation, situationship?, knife-play

A/n: you can tell I had no idea what to put for the images LOL!! Anyways I’m finally going to write tf2 cuz I can, uhm idk what other mercs to put so I just put 3 ;-; I might make a pt 2 with the rest depending on how this does soooo

Spy

He catches on so quickly

He doesn’t do anything about it of course, cmon it’s spy

He’s an observer, so spy is just waiting for you to do something

You getting shy around him is just so amusing to him, he can’t help but let your little situation continue

“ahem, Hey spy! Ggreat-good-youspy-you did good on the battlefield today 🙂”

Oh my god someone kill you please

“..uh huh”

UGHH, the pain you felt after that

You screamed in your pillow for hours

His amusement later turned into toying with you, he got kinda bored from you just asking him lame questions and trying to start conversations

He’d offer you his cigarette after a stressful day of fighting, if you accept you’d be a coughing mess because of how nervous you were around him

‘omg does this mean he likes me? No spy doesn’t like anyone,, is it a blue spy? Why is he acting so weird?? Is he about to ask me for something?’

You’d just be taking the cancer stick while staring at the floor, thoughts flooding your mind.

Meanwhile spy was simply eyeing you, watching as you became a silent nervous wreck

After that interaction he’d notice you making it more obvious that you liked him.

Whenever he gave his little speeches you’d stare at him with puppy eyes, not hearing a single word he said

He knew that he could get you to do anything for him at that moment

Sometimes it’d get you in or out of trouble

Once he called you over to him just for you to get shot by a sniper so that he could use you as a distraction

You weren’t mad cuz you were deep in it at that point

Oh boy were you all over that man, you just kept having this mentality that you’d eventually have him at the end of the day

like whenever he’s pissed at the mercs after another failed mission he avoids you for the most part

It’s better than having him pissed at you, otherwise you’d feel like you really fucked up

If anything your relationship would become more sensual, I see him finding the whole ‘puppy love’ thing more cute than turning it into a whole relationship

He’d randomly have whole make out sessions to fuck with you, sometimes even bringing his butterfly knife into the mix

He’d call you his ‘Jolie’ and ‘beau’, names that none of the other mercs would find sus because god forbid some of them can’t even read

He was your poison, and you were his plaything

Scout

Stop

He has a puppy crush on you too ☹️

We’ve all seen the expiration date short, he has no idea how to deal with it

And lord knows he’s going to spy, again

Imagine how he interacted with Ms Pauling on the little computer thing except you’re acting like that too

yeah, a mess

“Wassup”

“Hi!!”

“Oh no you first-“

“What? No you went up to me so pshh“

“Nono it’s okay I went to bother you-“

“Pfft didn’t bother me what! It’s fine you go first”

Jesus.

Sometimes you’d do that thing where you stare at him, then he glances at you making you two immediately look away from each other in embarrassment

Pls don’t let him know you have a crush on him, it’ll raise his ego like no other

Spy would straight up let him know, I mean it was pretty obvious

“oh… oh”

Oh no!! He’s going to do cringey shit now :((

During a ‘meeting’, his adidas met your shoes

When you looked over at him he was just snickering at you like some school boy, biting his lip

Holy fuck were you flustered, he thought he had you wrapped around his finger but if anything he was wrapped around yours just as much as you were

You flashed your lashes at him, wrapping your ankle around his, making the situation a mutual thing

He’d try to impress you so much on the battlefield

Whenever he saw a fight you were clearly winning, he’d still run in to “save” you

“Yup, I just did that.”

Was it corny? Sure, but you still admired him

“Fffuck scout, you’re so cool..”

Even when you guys aren’t fighting he’d still try to impress you

“Hey y/n!! This one’s for you!!”

He’d throw a blu spy’s head in the air (that he totally ‘borrowed’ from medic) and completely miss with his bat

He reached your limit at that point, everything about that moment was just so him

“HOLY FUCK THAT WAS DOGSHIT!! I NEED YOU INSIDE OF ME RIGHT NOW”

You screamed with heart eyes, the whole base probably heard you

“OH OKAY?? BET”

You guys slobbered all over each other’s faces as you made your way to his bedroom

Spy didn’t know if he should feel proud or disappointed, either way he was sorta happy scout found love here

Medic

This man could breath around you and you’d be impressed

You idolize him sm

You really shouldn’t, but you do!!

You’d watch him while he does his surgery’s, he’d call you his ‘assistant’ since you (obv) assist him

But sometimes you daydream into him too much, and when he asks for assistance..

“Towel forceps..”

“👁️👁️”

“….towel forceps?”

“You’re so smart..”

“vat??”

You simply kept admiring him, he just looked back at his hands that were digging into his patients insides, then back at you in utter confusion

When you tell scout about your little crush he gets excited about it until you tell him who it is

“Toots, tell me who it is.”

“Medic 💕”

“😐”

LMAO he hates you so much for that

If medic pockets you you’d get so flustered

Like “oh 🤭 little ol’ me?😚😚”

It gives you so much motivation when he Ubers you, if you fail then your done for!! You don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him!! :(

Once he feels the same way about you he makes it obvious in.. his way??

“Maus!! I’ve gotten you a gift ☺️”

“gasp omg what’d you get me??”

“a bird heart specimen”

“wow..!”

I mean it’s a gift?

He’d be the one to confess first because Yk medic, he’s not one to shy away from his feelings

He’d confess by putting a small present on your bed, once you opened it you found a yellow rose with red tips, and a letter written in cursive (done by spy)

“It hurts me everyday, to see you. So elegant, so sweet, I yearn to be with you, to hear every heart beat.

I pray that I’ll never live the pain, that I’ll stay in solitary, alone in my grave.

So while our blood flows, and while our hearts beat. Just know our lives are short, will you spend yours with me?”

You squealed so much, screaming into your mattress and kicking your feet

Once you saw him again, you immediately went in for a kiss

How could you hold back after such a sweet letter?

[yall-batman-fanfic]

Along Came Jason | Jason Todd & Magician!Reader

Synopsis: Jason is Vivian’s boy. When they first met, Vivian instantly felt a connection to him, and when he died that connection was lost and broke her. But when the Red Hood returns, Vivian comes before the son she has lost and doesn’t know how to face the new him. He is waging war with Batman and Gotham criminals in his own way. A way far better and more effective than Batman’s.

When Jason came into their lives, it brought Vivian to a rollercoaster of emotions, and with reason. It was one thing to tell her about the BatMobile getting its tires stolen in Crime Alley; it’s another to come home with a kid who he picked up in the streets, who happens to have stolen the tires and put them back. And it’s a concerning story to find said kid tied up on the chair in the Batcave.

That was the surprise when Vivian came down with Bruce, who was trying to gradually give her the news, but when they came to the Batcave, all was thrown out of the window as Vivian saw the boy, frightened and struggling, and she told Bruce: “What the actual fuck?!” 

Bruce sighed. “I can explain.”

“No, no, no! There is nothing to explain!” Vivian ran to the boy and untied him. “You can’t just go out there and kidnap a boy to what? – what exactly are you planning on – no! Dick just left, and you think picking up a kid from the streets, like you just went out to buy cigarettes from the convenience store, is okay?!”

“He tried to steal the wheels from my car,” Batman said.

“I don’t care if he stole your freaking car – you can’t just pick up someone’s kid!” Vivian sighed.

“Correction, I actually stole it – didn’t try because the wheels were in my house before he caught me, so,” the kid spoke. He turned to Vivian. “I’m Jason, by the way, Jason Todd… I know you!”

Vivian raised a brow at him. “You do?”

“Yeah!” Jason then took out a torn piece of paper from his pocket. “You’re the lady from the book! That was a good read, by the way, really helpful in finding ways to go around Gotham. Who knew about those catacombs would be helpful.”

Vivian took the photo from his hand, very much confused. “Thanks and Flattered, and not really the whole purpose of the book – but very flattered that you used it as a map – I’m sorry, hi Jason,” she shook his hand. “I’m Vivian. Why do you have this in your pocket?”

Jason shrugged. “Nothing.”

Batman chuckled, catching the two’s attention, and surprising Jason. “I think you have a secret admirer, Viv.”

Jason blushed deeply and turned away. “No, I don’t.”

“Aren’t you cute,” Vivian giggled and handed him the photo back. 

“Looks like I got some competition, huh?” Batman said.

Jason’s attention snapped towards him and then to Vivian, and then back to him. “Are you two sleeping together?” He questioned them, startling the two adults.

Vivian waisted her ring finger where the diamond engagement ring was below the wedding ring band. “Married. Unfortunately,” she joked, which earned a disapproved hum from Batman. “So, yeah, we are sleeping together.”

“Viv.”

“Anyway,” Vivian sat on the ground before him. “Where are your parents, Jason?”

Jason frowned. “Dad died a while back. He owed some money from the Falcones, didn’t pay on time,” he shrugged.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Vivian held his hands. “And your mom?”

“Never met her.”

“Oh.”

“But Dad said she got red hair… just like you.”

Oh. So, that’s what the photo was for. It pained Vivian to learn about this and she wasn’t sure what to say, she turned to Bruce and saw him looking at Jason, also unable to say anything with what they learned.

“How about… how about a guardian?” Vivian asked.

“He’s alone, Vivian,” Batman said. “He’s been hiding from social services. I won’t blame him. Gotham’s social services are not really. They’re not optimal.”

“Okay,” Vivian let out a breath. “Why don’t we head upstairs and Alfred can whip up some food, while he does that why don’t you get cleaned up? I’m sure we still got some of Dick’s old clothes – that would do for now.”

“Okay,” Jason said.

“Okay – do I smell,” she made Jason breathe out. “Are you smoking?”

Guiltily, Jason pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket which made Vivian sigh, again. Taking the pack, she told him to never touch these again and hid it in her pocket. She’s got to hand it to the kid though, he picks a good brand. 

After introducing the boy to Alfred and requesting dinner, Vivian brought Jason to one of the rooms that had a bathroom, and waited for him there. When he got out, wearing Dick’s old clothes – a red hoodie and sweatpants, and a pair of fluffy slippers (Jason didn’t appreciate the fluffy slippers), she accompanied him to the kitchen to eat. 

Leaving the boy with Alfred, Vivian went to the study where Bruce waited for her. He’s changed out of his Batman suit and to more casual, well as casual as he could be (the man was raised by a butler afterall, seems, tshirt and jeans wasn’t considered gentlemanly). 

“How is he?” Bruce asked.

“He’s eating now,” Vivian took the bottle of scotch from the table, which Bruce keeps just for her, and poured her a glass. “So, wanna give me the whole story?”

So, he did. Bruce told her how he found the Batmobile’s tires missing, and the boy climbing up the fire escape with them. He followed him to his apartment where he’s been living alone, hiding from social services, and even smoking. He hasn’t done a full research on Jason Todd, but Bruce already knew the kid’s profile based on what he saw there, and he knew if he left Jason, the boy who showed so much potential would just end up as a criminal running in Gotham. He couldn’t let that happen. So, he took him to the  cave, and when he saw the boy about to run away by trying to steal the Batmobile, Batman tied him up to the chair with his wires as he went to get Vivian.

“What now?” Vivian asked.

“I think it’s obvious.”

“Bruce.”

“Better he uses his skills as Robin, give him an outlet for it, than be whatever Crime Alley would make him to be. You know that’s where it starts.”

“And what about Dick? How are you going to break the news to him?” When Bruce remained silent, Vivian said, “He deserves to know, Bruce. He was your partner, he was Robin. If you don’t tell him soon he’ll just… whatever this is between you two won’t get any better.”

“I know. But Dick has a lot on his plate now, and with how he’s avoiding me. He won’t just pick up the phone.”

“Then use mine.”

“I don’t want him to be suspicious whenever you call him. I’ll tell him myself. I promise, Viv.”

Vivian drank the scotch in one gulp before saying, “I guess I should start clearing out the other room for him. And maybe call the lawyers for the paperwork and for Gotham Academy. And just because he’s Robin doesn’t mean he doesn’t get to live normally, got it?”

Bruce walked around the desk and brought Vivian to his arms and kissed her. “Your house, your rules, Mrs. Wayne,” he smirked.

“So, I guess we get to start over with another one, huh, Mr. Pryor,” she snickered. “I’m surprised he read one of my books, but a little concerned that he found the maps more interesting than the actual thesis,” Vivian went to the shelf and picked out the book that had that information. It was her third book, a thesis on Gotham’s myth on the Court of Owls. She was drawn to it when Bruce told her about the stories his father and mother would tell him about the secret organization built by Gotham’s rich and powerful. Her research brought her to an even darker side of Gotham, interviews with some families, and a run in with Killer Croc Luckily, Batman and Batgirl were there to save her, and she got a long lecture from Bruce. In her defense, she knew Croc was in Arkham but maybe he got out that day. 

“More reason why he’s special,” Bruce went to her side. “No kid would read a thesis.”

“We should get back to him, tell him the news,” Vivian hid the book on the shelf.

~*~

After telling the boy of the agreement they made, Jason played it off with a shrug and said, “okay, cool,” but inside the boy was over the moon to be out of that shithole of a house and be living in this big place. Best of all, he gets to meet the woman whose picture he ripped off the book cover and just believed was his mother for the longest time. It was easier to have something to believe in than have nothing at all. 

The first night he spent in Wayne Manor, Jason couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned all night until morning. The next few nights were the same, he would mess up his bed, do exercises, read books that he gathered from Bruce’s collection and brought to his room, until he couldn’t take it anymore and decided to explore the place. The manor was big with lots of halls, twists and turns, and paintings that brought a chill down his spine, but when he came to the sitting room he saw more photos than paintings. 

Sure there was the painting of Thomas, Martha, and a young Bruce Wayne, and another which was of Bruce and Vivian. Jason thought it was a portrait of them for their wedding since Vivian held a bouquet of lilies, but she wasn’t wearing a white dress but a maroon dress with a square neckline, a necklace of pearls paired with pearl earrings, her red hair tied to a loose and lowered bun which let some of the strands frame her face. And standing beside her, closely, with an arm around her waist was Bruce Wayne. While Vivian’s eyes looked at the painter who made the piece, Bruce’s was at Vivian’s.

“That was made right after the honeymoon.”

Jason jumped at the sound of her voice. 

Standing by the archway of the sitting room, Vivian held a glass of milk and some biscuits on a plate. She wore a robe over her pajamas but Jason could see the Batman symbols prints on the hem of the sweatpants, and some fluffy slippers. The fluffy slippers had Superman’s symbols. 

“Alfred booked the painter before we could even have a say, he said it was his wedding gift to us. A formal portrait of the new Masters of Wayne Manor, rather a welcome to its new Mistress,” Vivian placed the glass and plate on the table, making sure to use the coaster. “He knew we’d say no to this so he already freed our schedules for the week so we could have the sessions with the painter. When the session started for the photos – for his reference – the photographer would keep asking Bruce to look at him. Over and over, he would say, ‘Mr. Wayne, look at here please,’

“I had to pinch him just so he’d stop staring and we’d get this over with. When he got the shots, he thanked us for the session and left. A couple of months later, he came back and revealed the portrait. And he told us that of all the photos he took for his reference, it was the shots of Bruce looking at me that spoke to him. He told us he wanted to make a portrait that wasn’t just showing the masters of the House of Wayne, but one that defines this generation of leaders, and you know what he said?”

“What?” Jason stood beside her, curious to hear.

“If he was asked by someone to explain love in a thousand ways, he’d show them that,” Vivian nodded at the direction of the portrait. “And it was bloody hard to get how Bruce’s gaze looked at me, he said. After that, Bruce gave him a check, as an appreciation for the work, and he gave us copies of the photos he took for his reference. Bruce has one in his office, and another at the cave. I also have one with me at my place of work.” 

“You look beautiful there,” said Jason, then he turned to her and corrected himself. “You are beautiful… I found your book in a restaurant. Someone was reading it. When they got up to use the restroom, I snatched it.”

Vivian raised a brow. “Just the book?”

Jason had a lopsided grin. “And the sandwich – and it was a good sandwich too.”

“Good to know,” she led him to the seat and offered him the snacks. 

“Alright, I also snatched their wallet, but only the cash!”

Vivian sighed loudly.

“But I did read the book, and when I saw your photo at the back… I don’t know. My dad’s just some loser who got drunk, took drugs, and gambled, but when he talks about my mom, all he’d say was she had red hair. Not a lot to start with. And you have red hair in your photo and in real life, and I just… I just wanted to believe that she wasn’t like my loser dad. Maybe she’s someone who is smart, who likes to read, and drinks coffee in those fancy coffee shops.”

“I’m flattered that you made this ideal version of your mom based on my author’s biography page. I just hope that I don’t disappoint you, Jason,” Vivian sighed. “One of the things what worries me is that you’d realize that I’m not the ideal version you made in your mind and decide that this isn’t working. I don’t want to let you down, kid.”

Jason drank his milk and said, “Believe me, Professor, I’ve been let down a lot – like, my whole life – and for the past few days I’ve been here, you haven’t. Not once. This Vivian is way better than the one I thought of.”

“Wow, either you got really low expectations or I’m just that great of a person,” Vivian jokes.

Jason laughed and said, “You’re a good person.”

“I saw you take some books from the library, specifically from the classics. And I can’t seem to find the copy of Emma anywhere,” Vivian rested her chin in her palm as she tried to stay awake for Jason.

“I borrowed some of them.”

“You like to read?”

Jason shrugged. “There’s nothing you can do outside – no matter what they say that there’s a million possibilities to do out there. I just hang out in the public library. Do you need it? The book? Bruce said I can borrow some if I wanted to.”

“Go ahead, I already finished that. Just rereading it. I’m glad to see someone who enjoys Austen.”

“Are you?”

“You can say that, but I’m more into the brooding type,” she winked at him. “Dostoyevski seems to fit the aesthetic, don’t you think?”

Jason laughed. “I get it. I haven’t read his works though.”

“But personally, I am a sucker for thriller-mysteries that have a bit of conspiracies and a killer chasing the main character.”

Jason gave her a knowing look, “Like Dan Brown books?”

“Exactly. You read that in my bio, didn't you?”

“What are you talking about? I'm a detective, I realized it when I saw you reading that really worn out Dan Brown book during breakfast, and there's a signed copy in the study too, then the puzzles displayed in your office are exactly like those from the movies.”

Vivian laughed lightly. “I guess you are a detective… Hey, promise me when you start being Robin you don't stop being this kid. Before you're Robin, you're Jason. Okay?”

“Yeah, I wouldn't want to be like a brooding old man, running around wearing a bat costume.”

“Exactly,” Vivian messed with his hair. When they heard the clock open up, Vivian and Jason shared a grin, and she placed a finger on her lips. That would be their little secret.

When Batman came to the sitting room, he saw both Vivian and Jason sitting with biscuits and a glass of milk. “I thought I heard someone here,” said Bruce as he removed the cowl.

Vivian held out her hand to him which Bruce took and leaned down to kiss her. “You came back early.”

“Gotham's quiet tonight.”

“Good. Jason couldn’t sleep, so we're just hanging out here.”

“Yes, sugar would help the kid sleep,” Batman pointed at the biscuits.

Jason snickered. “So, when can I start being Robin?”

“You train first and pass those tests, then we'll see.”

Jason huffed.

“I'd enjoy this while you can, Jay. Once you're Robin, you don't get these kinds of breaks,” Vivian commented.

“What’s cooler than Robin?!”

“A soft bed, a good book, and a stable job that offers good money.”

Jason scoffed. “Please, I've done that, I want some real action.”

Sighing, Vivian pulled the boy's hoodie down to mess with him, and while he was down and trying to get her off of him, Vivian turned to Bruce and kissed him deeply. She pulled away from him for a moment and whispered, “take care of him, okay?”

“I will,” said Batman and kissed her again.

“I can hear you both and it's disgusting!” Jason called out.

~*~

“Hey, little bird, come out!” Vivian called out in the cave. “These old geezers aren't getting any younger, you know!” 

The comment had Bruce hum in displeasure with her joke. Months after he came to Wayne Manor and was announced as the new member of the Wayne Household as Bruce and Vivian's adopted son, Jason passed all of his training and classes – hell, he even aced the Civil Service exam from Bruce which took Dick a couple of tries before doing it. His reaction when Vivian commended him for him was: “If you've been in the system, you'd know all of it.”

Now, here they are in the cave and Bruce has presented Jason with the Robin costume. He was ready. The boy was over the moon and ran to get changed, and he hasn't come out for a while now.

“Jason, if you don't come out now, I'm going on patrol without you!” Bruce called out in jest.

“Master Dick took hours, admiring himself in the mirror when he wore the costume for the first time,” Alfred commented.

Vivian laughed at the memory of seeing Dick doing poses in front of the mirror that day. “Alright, son, come on out!” Vivian went to look for him, but just as she was going to the changing station, Jason appeared, landing on the table in full costume. 

“Ha! I got you!” Jason grinned at her and then Batman.

“You would have if I didn't see you sneak behind the Bat Computer,” Bruce said.

“No, I got you. Admit it.”

“Come on, we need to get started on patrol,” Batman placed his cup of coffee on the table, and before he left, he pulled Vivian to a deep and loving kiss. They didn't stop even when they heard Jason made vomiting sounds in the background. “I'll be back, my love.”

“I know. Watch each other's backs. And Bruce, bring him home.”

“I will.”

“Come on, Ma, let go of him so we can go!” Jason groaned.

“Alright, alright!” Vivian turned to Jason and brought him to an embrace, in that embrace she drew a symbol on his back and whispered a prayer to the maiden,  mother, and crone to keep him safe. “Now, just because you’re Robin doesn't mean you get to skip school.”

“I know, I know!” Jason sighed. “I got to go, Ma!”

“Alright, little bird. Go kick ass.”

Releasing him from the hug, Jason ran to the Batmobile and jumped on the hood, and with a grin he said, “this is the best day of my life.”

~*~

The call came when she was still on campus. She has just finished a class. Maybe he waited until then, not wanting to disturb her. Maybe he should have waited until they got back from Gotham but he couldn't. Vivian should know and not get her hopes up with plans she had for Jason. 

They were so close, and Bruce knew it would hurt her more than him when he gives the news. 

What was it Alfred said about their relationship with the boys?

"Master Dick was ours, our boy. But Master Jason is her boy."

So when Bruce made the call, he was already in the car heading to Gotham University from the morgue.

"Vivian," he began.

"Hey! Are you both here? Maybe we can step out and have lunch together. The three of us. Jason and I were thinking about this place in Founder's Island -"

"Vivian," Bruce sobbed.

"Bruce? What's wrong?" 

Some of her students, still inside, wanting to stay a bit, turned to her in concern. Or maybe they can be the first ones in the gossip this time.

"Viv," he sobbed. "Jason... he's... Jason's... I wasn't fast enough, the Joker-"

"No, no, oh god no," Vivian fell on the floor, startling her students. Some ran towards her in concern. "No, god, Bruce, no... not Jason, please. Please no..."

"Professor!" One of her students tried to console her.

Bruce arrived at Gotham University and he ran to her classroom where students and teachers gathered. There he saw her on the ground inconsolable and being held by her mentor. When they saw Bruce, they stepped aside and let him hold her and mourne.

"Not my boy," Vivian cried. "No, please, not my boy. Please."

"He's gone, Vivian. I'm so sorry. Our boy is gone."

Vivian shook her head hoping it was not true. In her hands she clutched the necklace Jason gave her for mother's day. It had the photo of them both in one the pier, and then a separate one of Bruce. 

"Please, no..." Vivian cried. 

~*~

Vivian couldn't be in the Manor. Not after learning the truth about Jason, not after she saw the DNA results that Bruce ran in the computers between Jason's records and the blood sample he got from the Red Hood. When she came down the cave to see how he was, she froze at the sight of the tests being run – the photo of Jason and the stolen blood of Red Hood while in chase.

“Bruce, this is insane!” She argued but then the results came and showed that they were a match.

She didn't know how to react – glad that the boy she loved and taken in as a son was back from the dead or horrified that the boy she raised was now running around killing people in the streets. Unable to accept reality, Vivian ran out of the cave, Bruce's calls for her fell deaf ear. He did try to stop her but Vivian needed to get out of the manor that had memories of Jason in every corner, but whenever she saw the images of the boy smiling in those memories, it would be replaced by the Red Hood. She needed to get away.

She went to her condo that night and hid there for a few days. If she wasn't in her condo she would be in the faculty's office at the university. Which was where she saw him again.

"You shouldn't leave your drink there unattended.  You'll never know what creep would have slipped something in it. Especially that creep.”

He was talking about Justin, who just left earlier to head home after a late night of grading papers.

Vivian gasped as she stepped back in the room and came face to face with the Red Hood. Here she was face to face with the son she lost.

"Jason," she said in a whisper.

"I got you a new one. Black. Just how you like it." The Red Hood placed the cup on her table and threw away the one she left there. 

Vivian approached him but he took a step back. "Jason, please, " she almost cried. She reached for the necklace he gave her, the antique locket that had their photo when they went to the fair. Jason saw and reached towards her and opened the locket while the chain was still around her neck. “I never took it off.”

“It was the first Mother's Day gift I got anyone,” Jason thought out loud. “You meant everything to me. You and Bruce. You both were my first real family.”

“There was never a day I didn't think of you,” She took her son's hands. Removing the gloves she held them tight. “I miss you so much, my little bird. My boy,” she sobbed.

"Then why didn't you do anything? Both of you? If it was you, I would have killed him. I would have burned this city down just to look for him and kill him!"

"I almost did! God, I was so close, but Bruce... he..." 

"Be stopped you. Did he talk about his moral code? Did he say sweet things to you? Or did he distract you with his-"

"No! He talked to me as a husband and a mourning father." Vivian said. "I tried looking for you in the other realm. I went back. I tried reaching out but I can't find you. And since I couldn't find you, I thought of going to the man who took you from me... god, I... it.makes me sick even... I went inside his mind and I-" Vivian shook her head as the memories and the feeling of being in the Joker's mind came back. It made her sick. 

Jason saw the discomfort, and it broke his heart to know his mother killed herself for just a moment so she could look for him in the plains of the dead. He never wanted to hurt her. He never wanted her to hurt herself. He couldn't keep up the act. He removes his helmet and his domino mask. Vivian couldn't believe it, her boy, her Jason was there, and he had grown... and his eyes were filled with so much hatred and anger towards her and Bruce. Towards everyone.

Unable to contain it any longer, Vivian reached for her boy and Jason let her touch his cheek. He sighed as he felt the warmth of her magic. Just like Bruce, he enjoyed that kind of touch from her. Her way to comfort them. Jason held her hands and squeezed them.

"Was I... wasn't I enough that you can easily replace me?" He let out a cry. "Was I not..."

"You were more than enough! And Tim is not your replacement. No one can ever replace you. Do you understand? You were my boy. You are my boy. When Bruce told me what happened, I was so angry and sad. How could he take you from me? I wanted to kill him, god I almost did but I can't do it... I couldn't... and Bruce knew. Because if I hadn't stopped, I would have gone down that road and never come back."

Jason buried his face into her embrace, holding her tight. "You always had a gentle heart, Ma. And one that's stronger than Batman... and as much as I would have wanted him dead, I don't want you to do it. But him... he had every power to do it, but why?"

"Jason, please, come home. Please, just come home so we can talk about this. You don't have to do this, please. Please, come home, Jason. I miss you so much. You have no idea how much it broke me when I lost you."

"I know... but I can't. Not now... not until I finish this."

Vivian held him tight. "Can I hold you first? My little boy is all grown up."

Jason let the tears he's been holding back fall as he placed a kiss on his mother's forehead. "I love you, Ma. You know that, right?"

"I know."

Releasing her from the embrace, Jason pulled out something from his jacket. It was an antique. A ring made of gold all the way back to the Roman Empire. "You have no idea how hard it was to get that."

Vivian held the ring tight and placed a kiss on her son's cheek. “You spoil me too much, Jay. I told you not to spend your allowance with gifts for me.”

“What can I say? You gave me hope, even before you took me in,” Jason smiled sincerely. Putting back his mask and helmet, Jason took one last look at Vivian and went to the window, but before he jumped out he said to her, “I paid that creep car a visit. Don't worry, I didn't put a bomb in there. Just a little vandalism. Let's just say that a paint job is going to cost a fortune.” In the helmet, Jason grinned slyly as he remembered the large spray painting and scratches made by his knife on Kirk's car that says: I sleep with my students and a couple of cock doodles. He's still petty when needed.

~*~

"He came here. Didn't he?" Batman appeared in the faculty office hours after Red Hood appeared. Vivian was just about to pack up and leave then.

Vivian looked at him, and without hesitation, said,"yes."

"Why?" He walked up to her, towering over his wife, glaring at her. He's never been this angry at her. But Vivian held her ground and returned the glare. He saw the gold ring on the chain of her locket. A gift from Jason.

"Because he wanted to see his mother."

"Vivian."

"He's found the answers he needed from me. It's best if you both speak this time. In a way both of you understand. "

"And how is that?"

"War."

[ironbabey]

July

Peter Parker x Reader

angst, maybe fluff?

Word Count: 1k

Inspired by the song July by Noah Cyrus

~~~~~~~~

I've been holding my breath, I've been counting to ten, over something you said

“So uh, what do ya say? Wanna give it a shot?” Please say yes please say yes please say yes-

“I’m sorry, I really am, but I’m gonna have to say no.”

No. He said no.

It took you months to work up the courage to finally tell him how you felt, ironically you told yourself the worst he could say was no. Fuck, it hurt.

You were crushed. “Oh uh, that's okay. We can just stay friends.” It’s not okay, you don’t want to be friends. Well, you do. You also wanted-no, hoped- for something more.

He smiled, god you loved that smile. It never failed to make your heart skip a beat, even breaking it at the same time.  “Glad this won’t change our friendship. I care about you a lot.” He says, you can hear the pity in his voice.

He cared, just not in the way you wanted.

I've been holding back tears, while you're throwing back beers, I'm alone in bed

You were always told rejection hurt but you didn’t think it’d be this painful. Peter went out while you were sulking in your bed. There’s more fish in the sea, right? You shouldn’t have fallen for him, everyone told you not to, and yet here you are.

How could you be so stupid?

Of course he didn’t like you.

You were nothing compared to her.

You didn't have the perfect teeth, the perfect hair, the perfect skin, the perfect...anything. You were just you.

You stupidly thought that it would be enough for him, she didn't even remember him, but you made new memories with him.

You know I, I'm afraid of change. Guess that's why we stay the same

You two were fighting now. It's your fault anyways. You lashed out on him just because he hadn’t reached out to you since that day. He's ignored your texts, calls, hell you even tried an email for the fun of it. He stilled ignored you.

The day you confessed really fucked things up.

You decided to be the bigger person and show up at his door. He would've known you were going over if he read your messages.

“I thought we agreed that wouldn’t change us. You said you wanted to be friends so why are you being such a dick?”

 “I’m being a dick? Oh, that’s real funny coming from you. I have a life full of other people, not just you. I don’t see why I have to be the one to do everything.”

You bit your lip and looked at the ground, embarrassed that you were acting childish, “No, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

So, tell me to leave, I'll pack my bags, get on the road

Peter let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair, the soft hair you used to play with during the times you'd study together. “I think you should go. I can’t handle this—you—right now.”

You refused to cry in front of him. “Yeah, okay.” You grabbed your bag and slammed the door shut on your way out. You fucked everything up, didn’t you?

Find someone that loves you better than I do, darling, I know

A week went by, and he finally texted you, asking you to go over and talk it out. In the end you were still his best friend, and he didn't want to lose you.

You picked up a photo that was in a beautiful golden frame on the coffee table, you knew who the woman was, Peter talked about her all the time, and it killed you. You thought he was over her.

 “What are you doing with that?” He grabbed the framed photo from your hands as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

You blinked back the tears that were threatening to come out, “It was just sitting here, she’s pretty. Really pretty.”

Peter smiled, “Yeah, she was. The greatest too.”

‘Cause you remind me everyday, I’m not enough but I still stay

You two sat in uncomfortable silence. He wanted to make up, wanted things to be normal again, but you had other plans. You wanted answers. “What does she have that I don’t? What’s so different?”

He groaned. “Please, don’t start this right now.”

You stood up from the couch, “No! I want to know why you’re after someone who moved on. Someone who doesn't even rem-“

“She was the only one there for me through all of it! She helped me from beginning to end! I ruined everything just to make sure she got into the school she worked so hard for!" His voice went soft, he couldn't hold back the tears that went streaming down his face. His brown eyes were hardly visible through them, "She was all I had. She was the only girl that ever looked my way and actually liked me.”

Then what am I?

I've done a lot of things wrong, Loving you being one. But I can't move on

“What?”

“Then what am I?”, you repeated deep down you knew you were being a little selfish, but he had no right to say you didn't care, “I’ve been there for you. I’ve laughed with you, cried with you, I even fought with you and you’re still tossing me aside?”

“Listen-“

“No! You listen to me! I’ve done nothing but love and care about you but clearly that’s not enough! Nothing is ever enough for you! I-I’m not enough.”

Peter stood to hug you. To tell you that you was more than enough. To tell you he was just afraid of being more than what you were now.

If you want me to leave, then tell me to leave, and baby, I'll go

You moved away from his attempted hug. How dare he cry when it was him who was hurting you? “N-No, you don’t get-get to cry.” you choked out through your own tears.

“I’m sorry please just understand.” He begged.

“Tell me to leave. Tell me you don't want to see me again and I’ll stop. I’ll leave you alone just like you want.” That’s not what he wanted, not at all. He wouldn't know what to do with himself if you left him too.

“That’s not-I want you to stay.”

You remind me every day, I'm not enough, but I still stay

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Black Sheep ♡

✦ Pairings: platonic!best friend!felix x fem!reader, boyfriend!bang chan x fem!reader

✦ Genre: fluff, smut, a smidge of hurt/comfort

✦ Summary: Facing trauma from your past to take things to the next level with your boyfriend is made easier by the love he shows you and some support from your best friend

✦ Word Count: 2.1k-ish

✦ Warnings: Super important note. The reader has sexual trauma. It's not discussed in detail, it's more implied than anything, but if that makes you uncomfortable please avoid this, my loves. Outside of that the only warnings are unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, and that Chan calls you "baby".

✦ A/N: I wrote this as a request for @maximumkillshot and it means a lot to me that she trusted me to write this. I really hope you find some comfort in it ♡

“Hey, I’m heading out. Need anything before I go?” Felix asks, popping his head into your room, unintentionally saving you from drowning in your own thoughts. You’ve been like this for longer than you know, sitting on the edge of your bed drifting off somewhere far away. Taking a deep breath, you loosen your hold on the plushie in your lap, “Um, no. I’m good. Have fun. Tell Han I said hey.”

You force a close lipped smile. An attempt at masking your pain that’s instantly betrayed by the tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. As if you could ever hide anything from Felix anyway. You’ve been best friends too long for that and becoming roommates has only made him that much harder to fool. Felix joins you on the bed, taking the plushie from your lap and placing it in his. “Talk to me,” he says, the rasp of his voice low and comforting, “What’s going on?”

His eyes lock onto yours, his gaze free of judgment, and the tears begin to fall one by one. “I asked Chan to come over tonight” you sniffle, allowing Felix to dry your tears on his sleeve, “I want to tell him that I’m ready.” Felix raises an eyebrow, “Ready? For?” You give him a knowing look and it clicks in an instant. “Oh, that’s big. Are you sure?” You nod, the faint smile on your lips genuine this time, “I am. I love him and I want this…” “But…” “But what if I freak out? After what happened to me I haven’t done anything besides scare people away.” 

An undertone of anger transforms Felix’s angelic face into something you only see when he gets defensive of you. What happened to you in your past, what the people you thought were your friends blamed you for, wasn’t your fault. And every time he’s reminded that anyone’s ever made you feel like it was he wants to make them pay for it. Putting his own anger aside, he takes you by the hand, grounding you before you slip away.

“You haven’t scared anyone away” he promises, “Something terrible happened to you and the people who were supposed to love you failed you because they’re fucking garbage but you have people who care about you now. Like me and Han and the rest of the guys. And Chan most of all. He loves you. We all do.” 

You stare back at him in silence, letting his words soak in. It’s easy to feel alone in this, burying it deep inside out of fear that it’ll be too much for the people. But you don’t have to fear that anymore and that has you wanting to cry all over again. Leaning your head on his shoulder, you give his hand a squeeze, “Thanks for being here, Lix. For taking me in and just...being you. I don’t know where I’d be without you. You’re so special to me” 

Felix lays his arm around your shoulder, feeling tears begin to sneak up on him too, “Oh god, are you trying to make me cry?” “No! I swear I’m not!” you laugh, catching a glimpse of him tilting his head back to chase the tears away. “Nooooo! I can’t show up to a party crying!” he teases, “I’ll never live this down!”

A knock at the front door interrupts Felix’s dramatic scene, bringing your mind right back to where it started. Only now the butterflies in your stomach have calmed down. A frenzy downgraded to a soft Spring flutter. Felix kisses the top of your head, rising from the bed to go answer the door, “I got it. Just give yourself a second, okay?” 

As he disappears down the hall you rush over to the mirror, checking your hair and makeup to make sure it’s flawless. You twirl around in your floral mini dress wondering if the lace at the hem is too formal. Or is the plunging neckline too revealing? “You’re overthinking this. You. Are. Fine” you huff, taking one last look at yourself before heading out to meet Chan.

The two men have already dug themselves deep into a conversation that becomes irrelevant once Chan lays eyes on you. “Baby, hi!” he beams, welcoming you into the coziest hug on the planet. “You look beautiful as always.” “Cut it out” you giggle, hands caressing his cheeks to pull him in for a kiss. Felix holds his stomach, making gagging noises, “I need to get out of here before I throw up.”

Chan slaps Felix on the back of the head as he slips out of the door, never breaking from your kiss. “Thanks. For. Coming” you whisper between Chan’s full pink lips. He presses you against the closed door, holding you like something delicate and precious. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I? You said you needed to talk and—” He takes a step back, the small glimpse he caught of your slightly red eyes enough to make him worry. “You’ve been crying. Did something happen? Did someone hurt you?”

Your best friend may be defensive of you but the way your boyfriend gets is a different beast entirely. One that’s still on its leash but won’t be for long if you don’t do something. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you, “Hey, calm down. Nothing happened. I’m okay. It’s just—” You run your hands down his chest, feeling the defined muscle tense beneath his thin black shirt. “Let’s go talk in my room, okay?” you smile, kissing him on the bridge of his nose. Your plush lips, scented with a sweet peach lip balm, tickle enough to disarm him. “Okay?” Chan nods, taking you by the hand, “Okay.” 

You take your time leading him back to your bedroom, enjoying how he stares at you when he thinks you aren’t looking. There’s something about knowing that he longs for you even in those moments you can’t perceive it that makes you feel special in ways he may not even know. Sitting him down on the bed, you straddle him, your arms thrown over his shoulders once more as he cradles you at the waist. “We’re here. Now tell me why you’re crying” he says, wasting no time getting to the point.

“I was crying.”

“Oh, okay then, why were you crying?”

“I detect sass in your voice.”

“I’m sassy because you’re stalling.”

There’s nothing you can say to that. You are stalling and you aren’t even sure why. Chan knows what you’ve been through and why that’s made it difficult for you to open up sexually. He’s never rushed you or pressed the issue. All that matters to him is that you feel safe. Sex isn’t why he’s with you and he’ll wait as long as you need for things to get there. You, on the other hand, are done waiting. 

“I want you to make love to me” you spit out, knowing no other way to say it, “and I was crying because I’m nervous.” “Baby, we don’t have to. You know that. We can wait” he says, terrified that he might’ve made you feel rushed. You stroke the nape of his neck, bringing your lips to his. “I don’t wanna wait, Chan. I want you. Do you want me too?” A silly question if there ever was one. Does he want you too? There’s never been a time when he hasn’t.

The spark from your first kiss all those months ago lit a fire within him that’s been smoldering ever since. He’s longed for this moment on quiet nights alone in his room. Longed to at last let the fire engulf him. Engulf both of you. Chan lays you back on the bed, positioning your head comfortably amongst the pillows before trailing kisses down your neck. You snake your fingers between silken strands of his hair as parted lips skim your collarbone, your body buzzing from the contact. His tongue dips between your breasts, delighting in the taste while his hands shape your tender thighs beneath their touch.

His thumb grazes your panty line, making your body jerk and arch. “Please” you whine, begging him to touch you where he never has. That moisture pooling in the cotton of your panties. You want him to feel it. Chan’s thumb dips further between your thighs, tracing the outline of your pussy through your panties. He bites down on his lip, his groans nearly undetectable. You’re wet enough that the material’s clinging to you like a second skin. He can feel everything. Your dripping entrance. Your petal soft folds. Your stiff, twitchy little clit. 

“Need to taste you” he whispers, disappearing below your waist. He’s so impatient—so needy—that there’s simply no time to take the wrapper off to get to the candy. He pushes your dress up, his fingers tugging your panties to the side. “Fuck, it’s so pretty” he gasps, diving in face first. Hearing him hum and groan is almost as amazing as having his tongue jutting in and out of you. You grip the sheets, tiny dots of color peppering your vision. How can anything feel this good?

Chan’s tongue flexes around your clit working in tandem with his jaw to fill your core with pleasure. Your senses are overwhelmed, disorienting you enough that you don’t even notice when your panties have finally come off. “Channie. Oh my god, yes!” you moan when his middle finger presses into you. He takes his time, rotating his wrist to get as deep into your dripping walls as he can. You’re so tight, the ridges along your walls are such a work of art, that he has to slip another finger in. The stretch makes you salivate, your hips bucking to ride his face.

“That’s it, baby. You like that? Like when I stretch you out?” he grins, slurping at your pussy, his fingers curling and spreading to stretch you even more. “Fuck, yes! I love it! Love it so much!” Tugging at his hair, you guide him up to face you. The sight of him on top of you, his lids heavy with lust, his face covered in your juices, is heavenly. Chan kisses you hungrily, desperate to consume every bit of you. Bringing your arm between the two of you, you lift the band of his sweatpants to stroke the throbbing cock that’s already sprung free of his boxers.

Your fingers are like magic, running down his shaft, rubbing the underside of his sensitive tip. “Take them off” you demand, “Need to feel you, Channie.” Your wish is his command. They’re off. The pants. The boxers. Now there’s nothing to separate you. Nothing to keep his length from dragging along your warmth, getting nice and slick before the head of his cock’s pressing at your entrance. You wrap your legs around his waist, controlling how much of him you take. Every inch has you quivering more than the last, the tremors strong enough that he doesn’t even have to move to hit your sweet spot once you’re completely full.

“I love you” he whispers, cupping your cheek as he rocks in and out of you. “I love you too.” You stay just like this for what feels like forever. Kissing, smiling, whispering the sweetest things to each other as his hips snap against yours. It’s only a matter of time before your stomach’s doing backflips, that familiar pressure flooding your lower half. “Faster, ah, fuck, so close,” you say in the cutest voice. Chan grabs one of your legs, pressing it to your chest as he plunges even deeper making you cum around him.

Your walls are pulsing, nails clawing at his shirt. You call out his name in the only voice he ever wants to hear speak it ever again and he loses it. He pulls out of you, his left hand stroking his length, leaving warm drops of his seed along your inner thigh until there’s nothing left. Collapsing beside you, he wraps you in his arms, kissing you in the afterglow. “You okay?” he asks, already massaging your thigh to prevent cramps. “I’m better than okay” you smile, staring back at him lovingly. “Just checking. I’m here to take care of you, yeah?” You just nod, burying your face in his neck, safe in the knowledge that, yeah, he is and always will be. 

[sarahblueskyyyy]

Frames

Romance, MaxBradley, Fluff, Slow Burn, Tension, Post Canon, Future Setting, Happy Ending, Reunion, etc.

Bradley Uppercrust the Third, has always been and always will be someone who’s minding his own business. At least—that’s what he has learned throughout the years, ever since his university life.

“Oh, God—are you seriously saying that? I can’t believe you!”

He lets out a yawn. His head is filled with what he should eat when he finally gets home. A takeaway from that one Chinese diner might be nice—or he could just bring home something. The owner of this restaurant is kind enough to share any remaining food with his employees anyway.

“Bradley, you seein’ this?” One of the waiters nudges him with his elbow. He cocks his head towards the center of the freshly-made exhibition. “That guy is gonna get dumped. It’s a painful sight.”

Bradley rolls his eyes. “Really, as if there isn’t anything worth watching.”

“At this moment? No, not exactly.”

A kitchen staff member rings a bell—an implicit order for a server to fetch the cooked meal to its customer. Bradley picks a tray, puts that plate onto it, and his blue eyes scrutinize the number of the table that is attached to a bill besides the plate.

How lucky. It’s the table with that couple that has been on each other's throats for the last 10 minutes. Well, to be more specific, the lady dog is the one who’s berating him, and the poor guy is just accepting it in silence.

Eh. Maybe he deserves it.

Bradley shrugs and brings that tray towards the table, unwavering. It’s not really his problem, but perhaps he should meddle, for other customers have been whispering and trading looks. Certainly concerning to the restaurant’s reputation. And, who knows, he might get some appreciation from his boss if he could break lovers’ quarrels.

However, when he arrives at the table—even before he could part his lips to say a word—the lady dog stands abruptly. Without him realizing it, her fingers wrap around that glass of whiskey, and her arm swings in a forward motion, transferring all the liquid inside to drench the other person on that table.

The other man is still looking down. His hair, pitch black like a pair of a raven’s wings, is damp and shiny under the light. Droplets form rivulets on that head before they fall free from the pointy end of his hair.

Bradley sure hopes it was the climax of her wrath, and perhaps God answers his hidden thought because, in the next second, that lady dog storms away until she is no longer inside the building.

Alright. At least one problem has ceased for now. Bradley sighs. His job still requires him not to be a dick, so he calls out delicately to the poor guy, offering his condolences and help.

“I’m sorry for what has happened. May I offer you our hospitality, and get you some dry towels—”

When the other guy lifts his face, this time Bradley manages to have a good look. He can’t prevent the smirk that creeps into his cheeks, carving an absolutely snarky expression.

“Ha!” His scoff surprises almost everyone in that room. “Long time no see, freshman.”

Maximilian Goof groans, and the frown on his forehead is apparent. “I miss you too.”

It looks like both of them developed a sense of humor over the years.

.

“Don’t you have work to do?”

As sharp as it might sound, the sentence lost its bite completely. Max receives the towel Bradley gives him and places the fluffy fabric on top of his head. His ears sag on the sides of his face like usual, but this time they look even more slumpy because of the whiskey.

“My boss pities you.” It sounds like a plain mockery, but no—Max notices it’s just how Bradley talks. How has he always been. “Besides, my shift is gonna be over soon. So, dry yourself up, be a doll, and go home.”

Max doesn’t answer that. Instead, he rubs his own hair with a tad too much force, finding the rocky pavement more interesting to pay attention to.

Bradley breaks the uncomfortable stillness with a question, “So—what went wrong? I didn’t take you to be the cheating type. Or a jerk—oh, wait, you maybe are one.”

“Perhaps take a look into a mirror for once.” Max is pressing the back of his head. Then, after that, the tone of his voice gets gentler a notch. “Nothing, really. I just admitted I’ve lost my feeling for her, and I thought it’s best to break it up now than prolong it into something worse.”

“Lost?” Bradley isn’t sure why he needs a confirmation, but he asks it anyway, “Or never had it in the first place?”

That makes Max snap his neck towards Bradley, his expression almost unidentifiable. But for some reasons—for Bradley, it is quite clear what’s going on inside his mind. Max wears his heart on his sleeve; it is easy to see and even easier to break. Max looks hurt and betrayed—like a child who’s caught red-handed doing something he shouldn’t do, and now he can’t lie through his teeth about it.

Aha. Bradley shakes his head and smiles. "You've got to train your poker face more.”

“That’s not funny, Brad.”

“It's Bradley, and I wasn’t trying to be a jester.” Bradley thinks for a few seconds before he proceeds with his words, “Big chances are that lady knew you were lying to her. She probably figured out you never really loved her, and yet, like a fool, you keep being kind to her until you realize it’s futile. You let her make you the bad guy.”

Max’s lips grow apart. His eyes are fixated on the figure in front of him, incredulously.

“What? Bull’s eye?”

“How do you know that?”

“What don't I know?” Bradley mentally takes note of how—maybe some things aren’t meant to change. Case in point: Max Goof’s naivete. A wave of innocence blankets his personality and protects him from the world’s vile truths, and they against his optimism. A combo match made in heaven. “Anyway, are you done? I need to get ready to go home; it’s getting chilly.”

Bradley is greeted by faint cricket sounds and the night wind.

Max takes a deep breath and empties his lungs before he answers, “I share an apartment with her. I can’t exactly waltz into my home right now.”

“Are you serious?”—that’s what Bradley was going to ask. That, and probably followed by, “How is that my problem? I ain’t your babysitters; figure things out yourselves, hon.”

Unfortunately for him, as he matures in age, empathy seeps inside him now more than ever, and the intensity magnifies compared to when he was still an adolescent. And also, all the hardship he encounters perhaps contributes to the sentiment.

Bradley knows he’s going to regret this, but the last thing he wants is to find the possibility of tomorrow’s newspaper filled with information about a missing dog or a dead one. Exaggerating it might sound.

“Do you want to stay at my place?”

.

.

.

Bradley isn’t kind, compassionate, or polite enough to sputter out the courtesy, “Make yourself at home.” He doesn’t need to, anyway, because the younger Goof marches inside the apartment with such confidence.

“Sit.” Bradley’s forefinger is aimed at his couch. “I’ll give you my unused shirt and towel.” Before he himself goes into the bedroom, the corners of his eyes catch Max's unusual excitement towards the living space. Bradley alarms him with an order—which he’s quite sure will be disregarded completely. “Don’t look, don’t touch, nothin’.”

Max gives him a half-hearted thumbs up. He can hear Bradley’s grumble as he walks inside his room. Then, the black-haired canine, as expected, starts looking around the place. Order and rules are meant to be broken—or however the saying goes.

If there is one thing he realizes once he steps foot inside the house, it’s how inhumanely tidy this place is. Small paintings are framed and nailed to the wall with such precision that they rival the strictness of Britain’s royal regulations. Mugs, accessory bowls, and ornaments are placed in their own designated area. There is no dirty laundry or random briefs on the corners of the room, which, by Max’s standard, is preposterous. Who doesn’t throw their shirt somewhere on the floor once in a while? There are many times when Max is exhausted and just overwhelmed by his work; his limbs feel like they’re falling out, and he can’t be bothered by doing laundry.

However, his mind’s focus shifts almost instantly when he sees three framed photos on the TV table.

The first frame is a photo of Bradley and his—Gamma Mu Mu. He had his usual arrogant lines on his expression, while the rest of the members were wearing this silly laugh. It looks surprisingly endearing.

The second one is his graduation photo. A formal one where he wore a mortarboard and the college’s distinct cloak. In that picture, he stands tall with his chin up, yet he’s alone. The display alone raises Max’s memory of his own graduation photos—and there are a ton of them. Of course, his father, Goofy, insisted on such an idea to make sure they have something to remind them of home—no matter how far the world may take them. And Max, albeit being surged by the complexity of embarrassment and elation, is forever thankful to his dad. He remembers the series of photos of him, Bobby, and P.J., then some others of him, his dad, and Sylvia.

So why did Bradley take the photo alone?

Before the cogs of his head could turn and arrive at a conclusion, his eyes had already moved to the third frame, and it's empty. There is nothing in it.

Why bother setting up the frame, then?

“Having fun diving your nose into my business, Max?”

“How come the third frame is empty?”

Crass, brash—Bradley didn’t know Max could showcase two insufferable traits in one go. But he’s been proven wrong, hasn’t he?

Bradley’s refusal to answer is prominent. He shoves a set of comfortable clothes into Max’s arms, which readily cradle them. That, and a clean towel. The silky smell of fabric softener is gently spewed out of those cloths, and the electric synapse in Max’s brain works fast to associate the fragrance with Bradley.

“Take a shower, stinky.”

Max offers a genuine smile. “Thanks.”

When he finally steps inside the bathroom, Bradley sighs deeply. Wondering what he’s gotten himself to.

.

Bradley has taken his own bath when he enters his room with a towel hanging on top of his head. His sky-colored eyes look at Max, who’s now leisurely lying down on a mattress he provided before. There is a scrunch between Max’s eyebrows and his fingers typing fast on the thin screen of his phone—Bradley can guess several reasons for such behavior.

The Uppercrust sits down on the edge of his bed. He blinks—once, twice. Perhaps he’s really drained because his eyelids struggle to keep them lifted. And the effect of the warm bath that relaxed his whole body is surely pumping the melatonin even more.

He still observes the young Goof. The way his own shirt fits on his toned body, sharp blade shoulders, and a little too tight on his biceps and the curves of his muscles are obvious behind the cloth. Huh. Brandley wonders if Max has always leaning on the sturdy side, even back in the day.

“Are you sleepy yet?”

Bradley snatches the towel off, then spreads it on the hanger to ensure its dryness the following day.

“Unlike you, I worked all day. So, in a matter of fact—yes, I am. Goodnight.”

“I worked all day, too.”

“And getting dumped by the end of it? God really hates you, Goof.”

Max scoffs and smiles. He puts down his phone, eliminating a source of dim light in that room. “So, tell me. What a rich guy like you doin’ in a restaurant as a server nonetheless?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Bradley flicks off the switch of his table lamp, and instantly, the room is engulfed by the dark. “I got disowned right after the X Games. Cash is an old friend.”

Max can feel his furrow go even deeper. A little more of that, and it’ll dig into his skull. “I thought that was just a—rumor.”

“Why would it be?” Bradley yawns, and as a result, a drop of tears prickles out of his eyes. He rubs it away. The timbre of his voice insinuates that this is no more than a weather talk—it’s concerning for Max personally. “Uppercrust never jokes when it comes to the things that matter the most.” 

“…. I can see that now.” A silence. “Is that why I practically never saw you anymore after the games?”

“More or less.” Bradley speculates how many more questions he needs to answer before the curiosity weans off. But then he realizes it feels good to talk about himself occasionally. And to be fair, it’s been a long time since he did that. “Gotta focus on graduating, then job-seeking. It wasn’t so bad. It took me fast enough to comprehend that the money you gain yourself is far more satisfying than being given.”

“But that’s …,” Max’s words dissipate in the air before it comes back to its track, “… crazy. I mean, why would parents abandon their own child? I know my father wouldn’t.”

“Good for you.” Bradley can’t see Max since he’s lying on his back, but he’s pretty sure that empty head is tilting in confusion. He continues, “People are just different. You of all people should’ve known that.”

“You did almost kill me. And Tank. And the others.”

“…. That I did. If my memory serves me correctly, I have properly apologized."

"You have." Max huffs quietly. His vision scans the strange ceiling, almost alienating since he’s gotten used to his own. “You’ve mellowed.”

Bradley almost lost his drowsiness. “Are you calling me old?”

“Well, I mean—I am 29 this year. That makes you … what, 40?”

“Your perception of others is fucked. I’m 33.”

“Oh. Well. It wasn’t an insult.”

“Sure, it wasn’t.”

Max chuckles. His laugh is light and airy, oozing across the room in a tender way. And at the end of that giggle, there is a unique hiccup—something only the Goofs have. It throws Bradley off for a moment. Is he deranged, or somehow, he does miss that laugh? Something he hasn’t heard since a decade ago.

“It’s good, really,” Max tries to convince him. “I mean, how to put this … you are still—you. But you’ve matured and are not as annoying as before—”

“Maxmillian Goof.”

“—but you know. All grown up. Hey, look! Shitty parents don’t always produce shitty kids. So, there is that.”

“I was a shitty kid.”

“Not anymore. If you were, I wouldn’t have been here.”

Bradley pursed his lips in defeat. He wants to retaliate, but then it’ll look ridiculous. So instead, there is an attempt to change the topic, “How about you? No luck with girls, ever, huh?”

“Oh, c’mon ….” Max scratches his nape. “I just haven’t found the right one, I guess.”

Bradley hums. “The right one. That’s a broad description.”

Max ponders for a few seconds before he verbalizes his thoughts, “Well, someone that you’d get married to. The one that stays in your life for the better or worse. Cliché, I know, but—that’s the goal.”

Bradley forgets that not everyone is as laid-back as he is. People tangle themselves in relationships and a series of interlaced emotions so they can have a friend that’ll walk with them until the end of the line. Truth be told, if he wanted to satisfy his primal, compulsory needs, he'd just rub it out or hire someone.

“What if you never find one?”

Max blinks in his direction. “It can’t be helped, then. My dad probably will be more devastated than I am, but—you can’t force a feeling.”

“Look at you. All grown up, huh?”

Max feels a heat crawl into his face, and he groans. “We should sleep.”

“Thank God, I’ve been saying.”

Reticence comes back with the absence of conversation. Just a mild whirling sound from the air conditioner and an even muted ticking from the clock.

“…. Bradley?”

An exasperated sigh. “What, Max?”

“The third photo frames. Why didn’t you put anything in it?”

Bradley closes his eyes.

“The third is not important. Go to sleep.”

Max goes quiet. It doesn’t take him long to drown in his own unconsciousness, pulled by an immense strength that renders him unable to stay awake.

When tomorrow comes, he knows it’s time to say goodbye.

.

The next morning, Bradley wakes up at 6—just like he always does. Apparently, Max woke up even earlier, seeing that his used mattress had been neatly folded. Bradley notices a small note that was put on top of it, with handwriting that he recognizes as Max’s.

Thank you!

M. G. 

That’s what was written.

That’s it, huh? Bradley closes his eyes, reminding himself internally to stay alert, and only after then is he startled by his own thoughts.

That’s it—of course. What am I hoping for?

.

.

.

.

.

“Oh—hey, Maxie.”

Max’s arm freezes in the air, just by the time his fingers are holding a warm cup of latte. His head turns to the side, where he finds a lady dog smiling gently towards him. Max goes agape before his voice resurfaces, “Oh. Hi.”

It’s his ex. The lady dog’s chin perks up in another direction—an invitation to talk. Max’s stomach is filled with a ball of worry as his footstep follows her—and he suddenly remembers that the two of them never really had a chance to talk it out.

That morning, after the one-sided fight and an awful breakup, Max found his apartment already cleared of her stuff. There is no remnant of it except what’s left in memory. If Max didn’t know better, he’d have doubted her existence.

However—he was sure she was real because the feeling was there, no matter how minuscule it was. There were comforting moments between them, a shared fleeting happiness. So, it was real.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t say anything.” The lady dog speaks in a serene demeanor. A contradiction of what she was displaying that night. But Max knows this is how she usually is. “I was just … too distracted, and my emotions got ahead of me, and I selfishly pulled myself away.”

“No—,” Max quickly interrupts her. He parts his lips, trying to say something, and his guilt is weaved along with his explanation, “I’m the one who should’ve been apologized. You’re right; I don’t deserve you, and I shouldn’t stay longer than I did. I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

The lady smiles. No faux geniality, and her heart swells. “You are kind, Maxie. You’ve always been. I took advantage of that. I knew you never loved me, yet I still try to convince you that you do—because I was craving the affection. It was foolish of me, because then I realized that the compassion you had, the kindness you served me with—were never mine in the first place.”

Max’s head slants to one side, and his loopy ears follow the gravitation and sway softly. It is expectedly adorable, and the lady is confident there are other people who’d think the same.

“I don’t know, Max,” she says once again with firm authority, but she doesn’t lose the tenderness. “You love someone, that’s certain. If you’re confused by it, I suggest you better start finding out, for you don’t want something similar like this to happen again.”

Those words root and glide into the slopes of his heart. The lady bids farewell and walks away, and still, Max doesn’t move from where his feet are nestled. Eventually, he drags his limbs outside the café. He isn’t sure where his legs are bringing him forward, but there is an indescribable relief when he stumbles upon someone he knows on the bench near the central town.

A smile instinctively sculpts itself on Max’s face.

“Bradley.”

Bradley grimaces at the sudden sound. Not for long, because he finds a familiarity in that intonation.

“Is this town getting shrunk or what?”

“What are the chances, am I right?” Max sits beside his former upper-class man, ignoring the look of disapproval that is shot towards him. A beat of silence. “I met my ex just now.”

“Congratulation!” Bradley bites back quickly. He takes a furtive glimpse at the Goof and notices how fidgety the man is. “There wasn’t any incident involving liquid, I assume, since the content inside that cup is still whole?”

Max shrugs. “No, there wasn’t.” He looks at Bradly, who mutters a low hum. “What are you doing here, anyway? No work? How about that restaurant?”

“Easy, Max.” He shakes his head. “I’m just taking a walk. Besides, that wasn’t my fixed job. It was part-time until I landed on a permanent one, and I have, so I quit.”

“Oh … good for you.”

“Yep.”

“So, what are you going to do? I mean—what’s your job now?”

“Just simple supervising in a garment factory. The idea is, I’ll get promoted to manager after 2 years.”

“That’s cool. I can’t imagine doing corporate work, though. Being a sports coach feels right for me. A lot of movements and all.”

“Well, each to their own, I guess.”

Max nods, almost in slow motion. His dark eyes stray to glance at something else, but it’s ineffective since his thoughts are reverberating, pleading to get unraveled verbally.

“I’m not good at this. Can I just say whatever's on my mind?”

Bradley exhales in a dramatic manner. “Finally, yes—stop beating around the bush.”

Max’s grin widens from ear to ear. He takes out his phone, and with a somehow crafty look, he tells Bradley, “Look here.”

Bradley automatically slants towards Max, just for him to be met with Max’s phone camera, and the younger guy wastes no time to hit the red button in the middle.

“Hey! What gives?”

“You said the third frame is not important, right?” Max is filled with glee that Bradley doesn’t understand. Max’s goofy teeth peek up from the lips, and there are lines near his eyes, an undeniable proof that the flow of time waits for no one, yet it feels like the same smile he wore when they first met. “Then I claim its spot, and it’s up to me to fill it with whatever.”

“Excuse me? What even are you yappin’ about?”

“Oh! Or maybe you want to settle this on the skateboards, like old times? I don’t mind—it’s our style after all.”

The look on Bradley’s face is one of disbelief. His jaw falls, almost comically. He suspects Max is toying with him. His thoughts dart around, bouncing inside the space in his skull, and he tries to make sense of the situation. However, he sees the grin on Max’s lips and how the evening sun outlines his unruly hair, and he caves in.

“What? You scared?”

“Okay, whatever, Max.” And he'll be a hypocrite if he says he doesn't feel the same thrill. “What do I get if I win?”

“Me vanish from your life forever.”

Bradley raises both of his eyebrows. How fuckin' arrogant and confident! “You’re so full of yourself, you know that?”

“I’d win. So don’t fret about it.”

Max stretches his arm out for Bradley to reach.

And when Bradley does reach for it, his inner voice tells him that it’s probably a bad idea.

But he has nothing to lose, doesn’t he?

.

.

.

EPILOG

“Have you ever expected this?”

P. J. squints at Bobby through the sides of his eyes. He doesn’t need to ask for an answer, because he too knows full well that it was a rhetorical question. He turns his head back to the view in front of him: Max and Bradley are exchanging words with Goofy and Sylvia.

“No,” P. J. says anyway. “Have you?”

Bobby examines the house with his sight. There are photo frames all over it, neatly planted in their own spaces. This is Max’s style and personality talking. However, the precision of every placed object is undoubtedly Bradley’s.

“I know Max swings both ways. I never thought it’d be Bradley at the end of the day.”

“Is that so wrong?”

Bobby grins. His teeth present themselves, and P. J is positive; that’s the biggest beam Bobby can muster.

“No,” the buzz-cut man answers. “Not at all.”

P. J. smiles. Yeah. Of course not.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 15 - Sharing

The rogue makes a connection.

On AO3.

“Why in the sweet hells would I have a rock?” Astarion says.

The bag of sparkpowder makes sense. It’s hard to screw that up. But then she wants a stone, and while he pilfers nearly anything he can get his hands on (to sort through later, mind you) that doesn’t extend to rocks.

“I need to test my theory,” she hisses back at him.

The underground beastie lurks beneath the dirt. Its heart beats slow and strong, and he can’t help but wonder what it’s blood would taste like. It seems simple enough to him: light the bomb, throw it, and run in the opposite direction.

But his illustrious leader keeps mumbling something about “tremors rules” and it makes absolutely no sense to him, but when has that ever mattered.

“Throw one of your own trinkets,” he says. She’s even worse than him about grabbing whatever isn’t nailed down.

“That all got washed off.”

Ah. Right. That. The little, inconsequential thing he might have had a hand in.

Gods. Her and her theories. He knows she’s got at least one, phallus-shaped trinket she could sacrifice. But it’s too much fun to tease her about it, and honestly, it’d be a shame to lose such a quality item.

Of all the things in all the planes, this weirdo beside him took her phallus when she was kidnapped. It’s hysterical.

So he sighs and reaches into his pack. Rummages around until he finds something cool and smooth. One of his empty blood jars—they’re all empty at the moment. He hands it over.

And she leaves him holding it. In silence. Is she judging him? Because it feels like she’s judging him.

“Ahem,” he says and jiggles it.

“Huh,” she says. Articulately. And finally takes it from him. “You have gotta take better care of your stuff.”

The beastie shifts down there. He can imagine it eyeballing them.

“Really?” he says. “You’d like to discuss sanitation right now?”

“I’m just saying. Between this and that bed plank…”

“The one you’ve been sleeping on with no complaint so far? Having ousted me? You’ll have to forgive me, darling, for wondering what your point is.”

He’s…aware all the others sleep on bedrolls. He knows they exist, and that they’ve run into plenty more. He could have plucked one up for himself. But sleeping in comfort was for that bastard’s favorite. Or for when Astarion was put to work. He complains about the lack of a feather bed because it’s expected for the image he’s built for himself: the decadent hedonist. And in truth, he thinks it might very well be nice to rest in one fully clothed for a whole night.

But camping in the wilds with other monsters and an illithid parasite, with the lingering fear of being hunted. No. That’s a luxury he hasn’t been able to afford.

She’ll be wondering about that, however. Even if she never complained, he knows she must have questions. And…he…he almost wants to tell her? For some boggling reason. So he hedges, reveals only part of it. “I don’t like bedrolls. They’re, ah, too soft. The dormitory beds were little better than wood anyway, and those were a luxury compared to the kennel floors.”

“Kennels?” she says, with a strange tone.

“Oh yes. Whenever any of us earned punishment, Cazador sent us to the kennels for correction.”

She silent for a long, long time. During which her heartbeat spikes almost louder than he’s ever heard it. It’s a pathetic excuse, he knows. He shouldn’t have told her. It’s not worth her fragile, mortal back pain to tolerate his sleeping arrangement just because it sends his reverie to places he’d rather not go.

Then she says, “Your plan for that fuckface. Do they include ripping off his head to shit down the back of his neck.”

“…no?” he says. But it sounds incredibly delightful. And vulgar. Maybe once he’s pulled that bastard’s intestines out and draped them around his neck like a festive garland?

“Right. I, uh. Sorry. For snarking at you.”

Again with apologies. It does strange things to him. Things he can’t trust and doesn’t like.

“We,” he says. Trails off. Has to clear his throat for some reason. “You could, ah, lay a bedroll down for yourself. If you wanted.”

There. A compromise. Prevent her frail back from splintering to pieces since they’ll have to keep sharing until they find a bloody waypoint stone.

Then, very softly (and not just in volume, as they’ve been whispering the entire time) she says, “If you’re okay with that.”

And everything in him is unsettled, so he reaches into what he knows, splays a hand over his chest, and says, “Well, I was born for decadence, darling. We’ll just have to make do until then.”

He’s beginning to feel strangely…exposed on the inside. As if he sits in that blood-soaked clearing, in flickering torchlight, with an oozing hole in his chest large enough she can see straight into his lungs.

He needs to paper over that hole with his usual charm, in hope she’ll stop looking into him.

She hums. Then, in an atrocious mimicry of his accent, says, “As m’lord requests.”

He ought to bite her for that level of cheek. But they’re rather stranded and low on medical supplies, and if one of them stumbles and falls off, they’ll be eaten by some huge, armored monster.

So he lifts his eyebrows and drops his lids in the way that almost never fails to bring the first soft brushing of a blush to some tipsy tavern-hopper. “You know, my dear, I could grow very used to the sound of that.”

Without the accent, preferably.

But she continues to drive a wedge between herself and most of his marks (the successful ones, anyway) and instead of leaning in or sliding her fingers across his own, she only snorts and says, “Yeah yeah, y’big dork.”

Which doesn’t translate as anything, but the shape of that word sounds ridiculous and she’s certainly mocking him. Only, once again, her tone carries a smile, and not a trace of coldness or cruelty or disgust.

Something shifts below them. The beastie stirs. And it must be visible enough for his leader to catch, because her fingers start drumming on her thigh.

“What’s the plan, darling?” He’s close enough the warmth of her skin almost soaks into his cold cheek.

But she doesn’t shiver or shy. She’d focused on a murder, which means she notices little else, despite her earlier flinching away. He tilts his head to try and better hear what’s behind them. Someone needs to watch her back. Or listen, anyway.

“So,” she says. Pauses as she does, while her fingers slow to a rhythmic ta-tap-ta, ta-tap-ta. “So I’m thinking we chuck that blood jar as far as possible to the left.”

“We?”

“I’ll get to that. We throw it—”

“Why can’t you throw it, darling? On account of having functional eyes.”

She takes a breath in through her nose. Which she does when she’s annoyed and trying not to show it. He’s fairly certain she thinks she’s being subtle when she does it.

“Astarion. You’re an archer. Your biceps is bigger than mine.”

It’s not the time. He knows that. And yet…?

“You think I’m big?”

It’s hard to describe the sound she makes. It’s rather like an artificer automaton plowing into a shrub, all of it somehow emerging from low in her throat.

“Would you just—”

He’s already standing and slipping in front of her (finding the ledge with his booted toes). “Go on and aim me, then.”

In between all the mortal peril, he’s gotten somewhat used to her bare palm on his. She’d had no qualms about grabbing it an hour ago. But the monster hides below, and she’s back to plucking gingerly at his armor. He nearly says something about it, but in a rare burst of generosity (she’s been through a lot) he lets her turn him in the direction she means him to throw without making any kind of comment.

She hands him the emptied blood jar. “Think you can toss that a hundred feet out?”

He can do a lot better than that. And then another, even rarer flash of planning comes to him, and he finds himself saying, “And after that?”

“If it goes after that, you throw the grenade. Um. In the same spot?”

Even she seems to realize how challenging that’s going to be. Tossing a jar into the distance is nothing. But hitting the same spot again? Blinded? He can’t help it. “Bit of a long shot, darling, even for me.”

He’s certain she’s staring at him. Then she sighs. Doesn’t roll her eyes (well, she probably did) or call him an idiot or order one of his siblings to slap him.

Just says, “Mmm. I…might have an idea for that?”

And oh, does she sound ever so tentative.

“We can, y’know, share thoughts and all with the brainworms, huh? And I saw bits of where the others were that one time. So…?”

Oh dear. She’s actually suggesting what he thinks she is. She’s going to let him into her head.

It’s a double-edge blade, he knows. An opened door with an open invitation can let anyone or anything through. Both ways. And he’d felt her horror when he slipped into her mind that night. When she panics, she curls herself into a tight, impenetrable ball to their shared illithid connection. To say she’s wary would be one of Astarion’s greatest understatements, and he has many.

She’s suggesting she lower her defenses (and his). Maker herself (and him) weak.

“Are you certain?” he says. While he collects the weaknesses of others—it never hurts to have too many weapons in one’s arsenal—he’s aware of a certain…similarity (how disgusting) between them in that respect.

“I mean,” she says. “I got enough water for another day, maybe. What’re the odds of the others finding us within three days of that?”

So she’ll be letting him in, then.

There’s a joke, there. Inviting in a vampire and all. But her voice is tense enough he keeps his tongue behind his teeth and only says, “If you’re sure, darling.”

“This’s probably gonna be fast. Got no idea if it’ll even work. But I’m thinking we pull a Kevin Bacon on it—you chuck that jar, see if it goes after, and then light and toss that bomb right on top if it does. How long do them things burn?”

The wick is short. “Not long.”

“Mmm. So the second it swallows that shit, we book it for the crevasse.”

“And if it chases?”

“Run faster?”

“And if it catches up?”

A pause.

He swears.

“It wouldn’t cross to this mushroom we’re on and that was something I could hop. If we can reach that crack, I think we’ll be good.”

Astarion sighs. “Well, I suppose that’s better than sitting here and drinking from your corpse.”

Even though he could, technically, survive well until the others found him. Whether or not they’d put much effort into it—especially after he sits and watches their glorious leader die—is up for debate.

And…the thought of sitting in the dark silence again is wretched. Especially the thought of listening to his only companion’s heart race, weaken, and then stop.

Dead blood is disgusting.

(he doesn’t want to listen to her die)

Astarion rolls his shoulders. Flexes his fingers. Readjusts his grip on the bottle. Then, “Whenever you’re ready, dearest.”

She takes a few breaths, this time. Rustles quietly. Mutters so softly he only picks out bits of words. Then the brush of her mind against his own.

He leans into it.

It’s rather how he imagines swimming (having no actual memory of the deed). A sort of weightlessness and jostling about. Two people trapped in a very small pool trying not to slosh each other too much.

It’d be easier if they’d just grab each other (we are one, the tadpoles yearn; become Us, become Whole). But the both of them can only pluck at the others’ clothing in an attempt too steady themselves.

Until Astarion loses his patience and finally reaches for her.

Outrage. Fear. Teeth, teeth BITE IT.

Yet his leader manages to reign in her more feral instincts. Begrudgingly lets him ease into her until their outlines blur—

Astarion blinks. It takes a moment to make sense of anything. A new body, a new sense.

He’s…seeing, in a fashion. Shapes and colors. Blue and black. So much black. They’re shadows, he realizes. The dark of the Underdark.

He blinks again, only it’s her blinking and turns his head—

Their bodies revolt. Not one, but two and that’s wrong, it’s not how it’s meant to be, they are a Whole. The moving throws off that synchronicity.

“Jesus fuck!” they say and their stomachs give a queasy flop.

But they need to see around them, so they try again, and they’re angry about it; so, so scared about it. But they got to. It’s a necessity. There’s a birdshark (a what?) waiting to bight off their feet and leave ragged, spurting stumps at the ankle.

“You are a morbid thing.”

“Fuck off.”

More gloom. Details lost. A darker slash to the right (think it’s a crevasse; lord jesus please be a crevasse).

“Darling, your eyesight is shit.”

“Just fucking throw it!”

To the left, then. A dark gap between two, soaring mushroom stalks. They’re rather beautiful, like this. Shining softly in the dark.

They lift an arm, the glass cool in their grip (it’s crusty inside?) (of course, that’s what blood does, darling). It still smells faintly of said blood (that clawing, biting hunger that never goes away) (a spike of something disgustingly soft and they both shove that down in mortification).

Take aim. Feel their own doubleness. Test their arm a few times. The disorientation settles faster each time as they adjust. Cock their arm.

Throw.

The bottle goes spinning off. They already hold the grenade in one of their hands, which they pass to themselves. Eyes move when the other commands to look down. The gap between the mushrooms and the boulder. Track down to the ground below. Along the route they’ll need to run—

Movement.

A surge in the dirt. That low thrumming noise—

“Holy fuck you hear everything—”

Of course they do. Poor, deaf thing she is.

The birdshark surges towards the clank of the jar. Fuse. How short? When?

They gauge the distance. Peer with eyes that fail far too quickly. They have to blink several times. Look around the churning dirt because their sight is atrocious.

“I got perfect twenty-twenty vision you ass.”

Now. Now.

“Ignis!”

The wondrous magic leaps to them. A cat after a string of yarn. An opened valve. Rushes to them and fills them and surges along their arm to ignite a ball of flame in their palm and it really is magic, fuck me.

They light the fuse. The birdshark closes in on the decoy.

“Throw it!”

So they do.

And then there’s no time to untangle themselves because they need to run and they didn’t think this part through, didn’t know they’d be so enmeshed (it’s terrifying) (it’s glorious) (oh god).

They have to run.

Their feet move. All of them. Two pairs and two bodies of a whole running, sprinting, stumbling. They reach out to steady themselves, the cavern rumbling as the birdshark plows on.

As the birdshark stops. It’s tremors rules. It’s gotta hear their pounding footsteps oh sweet hells fuck.

The bomb goes off.

Slaps them stupid. One of them falls, hands cradling ears that hurt and hurt. Claws at them, even. Have to get up, have to go, go!

Scrambling and kicking. The birdshark is quiet. They must have blown it to pieces! It never works in the movies, fucking run.

What’s a movie…? Oh. A wonder. They want more, want to delve in and view the memory of them all—

Get your fucking ass up and moving!

They close the distance to the crevasse. But they’re already flagging. A body unused to this: impact lancing up shins, air clawing at their throat and a cramp stabbing them in the side and they can’t, they can’t go any more. You have to, darling. Up! Get up!

Then. Oh then.

A hissing and rumbling anew. Not towards their distraction, but towards them. It’s failed (told you!) The bomb failed (fucking horror movie rules you fucker) and now it’s coming for them and it’s real fucking pissed.

That puts a pep right back into their step. They’re closing. Even as their body screams. As their feet drag and their lungs burn and they force themselves on. They run. They run for their lives.

Closer. Closer.

They can feel the birdshark now. The ground shivers right on their heels. Right beneath their feet. It’s going to come up right between their legs and chomp off their bullocks—

The ground ends. Drops off in a sheer cut.

They leap.

One lands badly. Feet slide out and their battered and abused left knee twists and pops and gives out. They barely manage to catch themselves on bare palms that rip open on hard stone.

The other doesn’t land. They hit. Fold over a ledge of stone that knocks the air out of them and knocks their thoughts with it. They hit so hard they become two for a moment. His leader scrabbling for a handhold as her feet kick in the terrifying nothingness of the crevasse.

She’s going to fall. Be swept away because he cut that rope and let her.

Shock. Horror. She can still hear him. She can see that memory, the knife sawing through that straining rope and the way he knew it was damning her and he did it without a thought. They stare at each other through her eyes.

Something flashes orange to his left. Some fungus. It throbs once. Twice. Swells up shockingly fast. Oh. That’s probably bad.

“Ast—” she starts and their fear is a shared thing, a rampaging beast thrashing in both their minds.

The mushroom explodes.

He sees it. The flash. And barely registers that before the blast swats him. His leader yelps and her legs flail. She’s going to slip, going to fall and it’ll smash her leg bones up through her pelvis and shish kabob (what?) right through her bowels and into her liver.

But it’s him who feels the ground fall away. Who tumbles, is blasted right off their little ledge.

He falls.

And he falls.

And he falls.

Everything in him goes rather numb. Goes still and silent. But something else rages up inside him and it takes him the span of a thought to realize it’s her, his illustrious leader: her panic. Her terror.

Not because he’s leaving her to die again (as she feared he’d do, oh, he’s really failed hasn’t he). It’s not for her. She’s horrified…for him. His safety. His unshattered (for the next few moments) body.

She’s afraid for him. Despairing, because she cannot reach him, cannot stop this, can only watch him fall.

“Astarion!” she screams.

It’s honest. It’s genuine. No guile or secondary motivation. She reaches out through her tadpole as if to hold him, shield him somehow simply because…because she wants him to not be—

He hits.

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 ao3

Eddie turns so he’s lying stretched out on his side, leaning on one elbow. Steve shifts gingerly so that his head is half propped up by the pillows—tilts his body to the side as much as he can with his cast. With Eddie’s couch pressed against the bed frame, it almost gives the illusion that they’re in one bed together: maybe it’s that, the casual intimacy of it, that makes it easier for Steve to start talking. 

“It really wasn’t that bad to start with,” he says.

Oh, okay, Eddie thinks, so we’re doing this bullshit again. 

He doesn’t dare interrupt though, because he understands the need to talk around something before getting into the heart of it—like letting a faucet run and run until the water turns clear. 

Still, Steve must sense some of his thoughts, because one of his eyebrows twitches and he says, a little wryly, “Fuck off, I mean it. It was just, you know, the clock and all that haunted house crap. Like, yeah, I’m not exactly a fan of spiders, but I don’t have a phobia or anything.” 

Eddie doesn’t contradict him, doesn’t say But it wasn’t just haunted house crap, was it?; doesn’t say that he remembers every moment of that awful drive, remembers Steve rambling about being late to someone who definitely wasn’t there. Right now, he wouldn’t stop him for anything. 

“Things didn’t get, um, fuzzy until we were at my house. My head started killing me, I was worried that I was gonna throw up in the kitchen sink when I was talking to the kids—thank God I didn’t, at least they actually listened to me, and… When I was in my room, and Dustin—Dustin followed, that’s when…”

Steve gives a little grimace. “It got worse, felt like there was a fucking spike right in here.” He rubs at a spot in between his eyebrows. “Anyway, guess it sorta affected my whole, uh, thinking abilities ‘cause, um…” He winces with an embarrassed half shrug. “I’m sorry about the tape. I really didn’t notice until… Well. Pretty stupid of me.” 

This time, Eddie can’t stop himself from replying. “No.” 

Steve blinks at him. “No what?”

“No. Nope. You’re not gonna—don’t you fucking dare apologise for… for…”

For staring death down without complaint, for hiding pain silently…

Because I know you, Steve Harrington—you were so damn focused on keeping those kids safe that everything else was background noise. 

Before Eddie can even begin trying to put all that into words, Steve says, “All right, okay. I’m—”

“Don’t,” Eddie says quickly, then realises that he’s been had, because Steve gives a tiny smirk. 

“Gotcha.” He sighs, sobers. “Seriously, though. This is why I didn’t want… Didn’t want you to worry.” 

“Oh, okay,” Eddie says faux brightly, like the thought’s only just occurred to him. “I won’t, then.”

It’s somehow the perfect thing to say, because Steve snorts, and the levity must ease him into the next part, because he keeps talking with barely a pause. 

“So I was thinking—well, I kinda thought I knew what to expect from Max. She described… like nightmare stuff, red sky, all that Upside Down shit, and… But it—it wasn’t… It was like real life, to begin with. And that—” Steve inhales. “That tripped me up.”

He blinks rapidly a few times, as if steeling himself. 

“I didn’t know it had… started, at first. Just thought I was still in your room. I should’ve guessed, ‘cause I couldn’t feel your—um, your hand anymore, but I wasn’t—there was a knock. At the door. Um. Well, like not just one knock, it was crazy loud, and—I just had this—I felt like I had to check, so I went to the door, and...” Steve’s voice fails, and he swallows once more, like the word is catching in his throat. He tries again. “A-and.”

Eddie reaches out, touches Steve’s forearm. “Steve, it’s—”

“It was Dustin,” Steve says in one breath. “He’d—it looked like he’d followed us. He was yelling, Eddie, he was so fucking angry, and I kept trying to tell him to—to go, but he wouldn’t listen, and then he—” Steve bites down hard on his bottom lip. “It was like when Max… but I couldn’t stop it. I-I was too slow.”

Eddie can feel Steve trembling. He doesn’t withdraw his hand.

“And then he fell, and he—he was so small, Eddie.” There’s a tremor in Steve’s voice, too. “There was so much blood, and it got in his hair, and I could…” Steve shakily rubs his fingertips together. “I could feel it. But then I… I knew it wasn’t right, ‘cause you weren’t there, and you would’ve been right behind me, I know you would’ve—and it was like, as soon as he knew I’d figured it out, everything went all creepy, all vine-covered and shit, but I just thought—” Steve laughs breathlessly. “Fuck, it was the best feeling. I just thought, oh, thank God, and ran.”

Eddie thinks of last night, of Steve’s nightmare. His chest floods with rage, with horror. His heart hurts.

“But then it got… it felt really… really weird, like, my head went all…” Steve tilts a hand back and forth. “Swimmy? I couldn’t remember what was happening, why I was—and then, it was a memory of—well, it felt like it was happening to me for the first time, like I couldn’t remember it was a memory, if that makes sense? Fuck, I don’t know.”

“It does,” Eddie says quietly.

“Okay. I, um. Do you know about Starcourt?”

“Buckley mentioned the… basics, I think,” Eddie says. “It sounded… nuts.”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah, pretty much. So for this—well, long story short, Robin and I got interrogated, and I got, uh, knocked around a bit.”

Eddie puts this through his Steve Translator, mentally changes a bit to a whole fucking lot.

“And we got drugged with this truth serum, don’t know what the hell was in it, but it was intense, and…” Steve’s hand drifts up to the side of his neck, rubs absentmindedly. “When the needle went in, I realised it was a memory, that it was wrong, because… someone else was drugging me. I kept thinking shit, he looks kinda young, like he kept staring, and I realised it must’ve been him—Vecna, I mean. When he was human. The drugs started—um, working, I guess. It felt exactly like it did when…”

Steve presses his lips together for a moment.

“Sorry. I don’t really like—I didn’t have control, like I was laughing even when I didn’t want to be, and that…” He shrugs again. “It messed with me for a while, after. There was—that winter, I had to get a tooth taken out, and I didn’t want them to use numbing, because it felt a bit like… Anyway.” Steve shakes his head. “Sorry. Got sidetracked. Where…?”

“You were in the memory,” Eddie prompts gently. He sort of hates himself for adding, “Drugged at Starcourt?” but he can tell that Steve needs a bit of a guide through the maze.

“Right. Yeah.” And inexplicably, Steve’s lips curve into a triumphant ghost of a smile. “That’s where he fucked up. ‘Cause, yeah, being drugged sucked, but it was also tied to—me and Robin, we…” Steve smile gets wider, but he also looks one second away from bursting into tears. “It was one of the best times of my life.”

Eddie smiles back, lets his hand drift down into Steve’s. Squeezes encouragingly.

“Once I’d remembered, made the connection, it was easy to… break out of the interrogation? I just ran to Robin, tried to stay there. Whenever the lights flickered, I guessed that he was catching up, so I went somewhere else, tried to keep outrunning him, basically. But I… it was hard to keep… I was getting tired.” His eyes close momentarily, deep in thought. “Sorry. Just trying to… things got foggy.”

“S’okay, Steve,” Eddie says—is not sure he can say much else with the growing lump in his throat. “Take your time, man.”

There’s a pause, and then Steve says, with mild surprise, “Oh, I saw El. I forgot… like, it was just a flash, I was in the woods with you—”

“Sorry?” Eddie says, and he doesn’t even cringe at himself for interrupting; that’s how baffled he is. “With me?”

“Uh, yeah? It only just happened, Eddie, your memory can’t be that bad. You know, The Upside Down, telling me I was a ‘good dude’, ring any bells?”

…What? You counted me being an asshole as a happy memory?

“No, that’s not why—of course I remember, I’m just… honoured I made the cut,” Eddie says, tries to tease.

But Steve doesn’t laugh, just blinks in confusion. “Yeah, why wouldn’t you—? Anyway, we were talking, and then I was sure I saw El just out the corner of my eye, and—she was yelling, I couldn’t hear her, but I could tell she needed more time, so I… tried to give her that.”

Eddie feels a hint of trepidation. “How?”

Steve sighs. “Okay. This bit really was stupid. I sort of…” Steve cringes slightly. “Goaded him?”

“…Steve,” Eddie says. Not stupid—stupidly fucking brave, but never… oh, Christ.

“I know, I know.”

No, you don’t.

“I dared him to find me. Said I wasn’t gonna stop running. And then���everything just disappeared for a moment, and then my head hurt, the worst yet, and then… He must’ve really been trying, ‘cause I couldn’t remember what I was doing again, and… It was all memories, and it felt almost like… you know when you’re dreaming, and a little part of you knows it’s a dream, but you still have to go along with it? Like that.”

Steve goes silent for a minute. Eventually, Eddie taps the back of his hand.

“You good?”

Steve sighs. “Yeah. Just… It’s… it’s silly.”

“I promise you it’s not.”

“It really is.” Steve’s mouth twitches, like he’s disapproving of himself. “Those memories, they… they weren’t horrific or anything, it was just mundane shit. Like, dinners or nights at home or whatever, and I was five, then ten, then…”

Eddie thinks of how he used to lump the Harrington House into the same detached scorn he’d view all of ‘the big houses’ in Hawkins, treat them like big, empty landmarks—as vacuous as the rich kids they’d shelter.

“But in one of them—the memories, I mean—I just snapped, ‘cause it was so boring. I smashed a plate, and that—it never happened in real life, but I just…” He closes his eyes, smiles ruefully. “I remember wanting them to look at me. Just once.”

Eddie lets out an almost inaudible breath, but it’s enough for Steve to shift in discomfort, as if he’s already trying to take back the words.

“Hey, chill,” Eddie says, not unkindly. “It’s not like your folks are gonna hear you say—”

“I’m not—it’s just, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“What?”

Steve is frowning. “It’s not like they were hitting me, Eddie.”

Eddie thinks of Steve in the RV, slipping into another memory, desperate to be heard: I didn’t, Dad, I didn’t. I’m not lying.

Eddie realises that he doesn’t need to say that there’s more than one way to hurt someone, because, of course, Steve already knows. Instead he digs deep and echoes something Wayne has told him, long ago.

“Once is enough, Steve.”

Steve blinks. One tear falls. Another. Then more. It’s quiet, but not forcibly stifled, not this time. It’s like a release.

“O-okay.” He sniffs, slowly wipes at his face. “He… he caught me, eventually. Or I guess not eventually, if it was really quick on your end. He was—furious. Whatever El was doing along with Robin and Nance must’ve been hitting him, and…”

Eddie feels Steve flinch. “Hey, are you—?”

“He clawed at my…” Steve gestures down to his healing bat-inflicted wounds. “It… hurt. But what was worse is that he—” Steve grits his teeth, swallows back more tears. Eddie can hear the painful click of his throat. “He said that I failed. That after he killed me, he was gonna kill… e-everyone. That I was an idiot to even think I could save… And then I was falling, and I could—I could hear you, but it was all distant and I couldn’t… it fucking scared me, ‘cause I knew you must’ve been touching me, but I—I couldn’t feel…”

Steve’s eyes look haunted. He glances at Eddie.

“That must’ve been when I…?”

Eddie can’t speak. Nods.

I felt you go.

He doesn’t realise that he’s crying until Steve’s hand tentatively reaches across, swipes underneath his eyes.

“Hey, come on. It’s not worth all that.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Eddie says shakily, manages a wet smile. “I decide who’s worthy of my tears, asshole.”

And you definitely are. A thousand times over.

He feels when Steve’s hand slowly falls like he can’t find the energy to hold it up; when instead of his breath catching on a word, it catches on a yawn.

“Shh,” Eddie says when Steve looks like he’s trying to speak again. “That’s enough for now, huh?” he adds gently.

Steve sighs, but he looks grateful. He lets his head sink down more into the pillow and says, “Thanks, Eddie.”

But every time his eyelids so much as droop, he seems to banish the drowsiness with fierce determination, over and over again. It looks like it hurts.

“Why don’t you want to sleep?” Eddie whispers, when it’s clear Steve isn’t going to stop.

Another sigh. “It’s not that I don’t want to—it just… feels too much like.” For a second, Steve’s eyes drift to that unknown point in the distance again. “Like… leaving,” he says. Then he jolts in alarm, fingers reaching out to carefully brush Eddie’s cheek and oh, this again, Eddie thinks, as he blinks through more tears.

“Can I try something?” he asks when he knows his voice won’t break.

Steve nods.

Eddie’s hand returns to the bedsheets, finds Steve’s palm. Traces two letters.

Hi.

“Feel that?”

Steve smiles. “Yeah.”

“Even when your eyes are shut, you can still feel that, yeah? You’re not going anywhere, I promise.”

“Oh, well, if you promise,” Steve teases. His blinks are slowing now, each lasting a little longer than the one before it. But he doesn’t allow his eyes to stay closed.

Eddie feels a surge of affection so strong that for a fleeting moment, he wonders if he’s going to cry again. “Hey, Sir Stubborn. At least rest your eyes, sweetheart.”

“What if I want to—” Steve barely manages to suppress a yawn, “—keep looking at you?”

“Uh-huh. Flatter me all you want in the morning.”

“Rude,” Steve laughs sleepily. “Meant it. Hey, Eddie. Wanna know a secret?”

“Oh, if I must.”

“In… in the RV.” And Steve yawns deeply, like it’s been building for a while; he looks so, so tired. “When all the… haunted house crap. Know why it was… so easy?”

He keeps having to yawn every few words. Eddie’s heart twinges.

“Why?” he murmurs.

“Whenever I looked at you… all that shit… never touched you. You just stayed… you were so… lovely.”

Eddie’s throat is tight with emotion. He reaches out, drifts his fingers along Steve’s brow, until Steve’s eyes finally remain shut, until he feels him drift into sleep.

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 12

chapter 22:

1. 😟😟 all james wants is for sirius to be there for james the way james ALWAYS was for sirius

2. 😟 james wished hodge happy birthday even though hodge died yesterday. i- i am not okay

3. “Regulus never fails to look up. Evan would be proud of him for that, he thinks.” 😧 that was vile to put in there

4. james has resorted to BEGGING for medicine from sirius and can’t understand why sirius won’t send any. this hurts so bad

5. nope. i’m done. i can’t read any more. james started looking forward to death cause he would be out of this arena and out of pain. jfc i’m done

6. anyways. i’m back cause i couldn’t stop reading.

7. REGULUS AND JAMES ARE REUNITED!!! THANK GOD!!! 😊

8. 😧 wait nevermind. james just mistook regulus for sirius. “James has never, not once in his life under any circumstances, mistaken Regulus for Sirius”

9. james is delulu from medicine and reg just found out that the plan has always been to get reg home. this hits like a motherfucking truck

10. james is high as a fucking kite, can’t figure out why “sirius” is being mean to him, cause he’s never been mean to him. and is also wondering why “sirius” is oddly attractive for being mean

11. it takes james half a chapter, and reg cutting his shirt for james to realize it’s not sirius. cause sirius has different scars. i love james sm 😭😭

12. “What was Sirius thinking? Drugging James? In the middle of the fucking hunger games? That might be the most idiotic thing Regulus has ever known his brother to do, and this is Sirius he's talking about, so that's saying a lot. Sirius once flipped a cigarette in the air and tried to catch it with his mouth while it was lit, and kept doing it until he could actually consistently manage it, no matter how much it burned him. Though, in fairness, he can still do that trick to this day.”

LMAO WHAT??? that’s so random and i love it

13. 😧 legit sobbing. reg says that james lost the spark in his eyes. and he’s the one person he expected to never lose his spark

14. reg reveals that they both can go home. james’ spark is back. i’m sobbing harder now. they’re so in love

15. i eat, breathe, and dream those author end notes. bizzarestars writes their end notes the way my brain processes the fic. <33

chapter 23:

1. starting the chapter off with pain, i see. losing vanity changed james. like. horribly changed him.

2. “What Regulus hates more than James is his suffering.” jfc he’s so emotionally constipated

3. james is sad and all reg can think is hmmmm i want him to start flirting with me again, because it meant he was happy bitch wtf

4. awww they’re cuddling and just got a package! my babies are gonna make it out!

5. reg realizes he has to put on a show, so he offers to feed james. and wants to gouge his eyeballs out for offering that. 😭😭😭😭

6. i’m dying from embarrassment but this is also so fucking funny. reg is like. let’s talk about our feelings. for each other. and james is just like *head tilt* ???

7. “"You weren't my first crush, James," Regulus whispers. "You were my first love."”

james didn’t just make reg feel good, he made reg feel and i am NOT okay.

8. “This whole time, Regulus has been steady on the fact that he wouldn't kiss James to save his own life, but he's apparently willing to do it to save James'.”

JFC why is he so emotionally constipated???

9. THEY KISS????? james is gonna be heartbroken when he realizes it was all an act

10. oh thank god james realized. at least it broke his heart now and not in two weeks

11. *squints* now reg has never wanted anything more than this kiss. girl. please. realize.

12. god, i’ve never read a kiss more beautifully and emotionally desperate written.

13. 😏 reg called him baby again!

14. oh god, maybe i’m just as bad as everyone in the hallow. maybe i’m just as bad as them. cause i enjoy their romance. i enjoy it so much. maybe i’m just as bad as the hallow for that. i- i think this every time i read the hunger games.

15. “James wants to sink his teeth into Regulus and leave the deep imprints of his teeth from one jutting hip bone to the other.” sometimes i forget that jegulus is a little unhinged in ways like this. and every time i’m reminded, I LOVE IT

16. “"You treat me like I'm stupid for daring to see good in people, but if there's no good in anyone, then what's the fucking point?"”

this entire section. this. this is what james is all about

17. 😟 authors note just told me i’m no better than a hallow. for my excitement over jegulus. and- yeah. i guess so. i’m so sorry y’all

[herofics]

Overwhelmed, feat Dabi

A/N: I got a request on wattpad for Dabi with an overwhelmed autistic s/o. I based this on how I’ve been feeling lately, since yeah overwhelmed

You were so on edge all the time, and it was driving you insane. Every sound was too loud, all the lights were too bright, and god forbid you had to hear the neighbors sing karaoke one more time, you were going to implode. Dabi hadn’t been back to your place for a couple of days, and you weren’t sure if his absence was making things better or worse. You missed him, but you also weren’t sure if you could handle any company right now. 

Just on cue, the doorbell rang. You sighed, preparing yourself mentally for being face to face with another human being. It was most likely Dabi, since you weren’t expecting anyone else. Besides, you wouldn’t open the door for some stranger anyway. You checked the peephole and saw it was indeed him. You took a deep breath, and plastered a calm-ish expression on your face, hoping he wouldn’t notice how uneasy and on edge you were.

You opened the door and took a few steps back to let Dabi into the apartment. He closed the door behind him and kicked his shoes into the corner next to the door. You walked back into the living room and sat down on the couch.

Dabi looked around the room, noticing you didn’t have any lights on and your blinds were open only a bit. The room was very dimly lit, and he saw your headphones recharging on the corner of the coffee table. It wasn’t just your surroundings that gave him pause, you seemed anxious and on edge as well.

“What’s up your ass today? You seem off” he asked as he sat down on the other end of the couch to give you space.

Of course, he would notice, he’d known you too long for him to not know when you were having a hard time.

“I just feel overwhelmed again. There’s been too much crap going on lately” you sighed, feeling like you just wanted to sink into the couch.

“Lights too bright, sounds too loud, that kinda crap?” Dabi sighed, scratching his cheek near the staples that were under his eye.

“And the neighbors have been singing karaoke almost every night for the past week” you groaned.

“Damn, that sucks”

“Oh, it does. It sucks so bad, and I hate it, because they’re keeping me up. They’re not even going past the allowed time, but I want to go to sleep earlier, and it’s a pain in the ass!” you ranted. “And I can’t even do anything about it, because they’re not really doing anything wrong. Aaargh, it’s so fucking annoying!”

“You could still tell them off, you know. They’re still bein assholes”

“I don’t think they would listen, since they’re not really doing anything wrong”

“You want me to tell them off?” he asked, already stretching his wrists.

“I know this isn’t the most glorious apartment, but it’s still my home, so I would prefer you not burn down the building” you sighed.

“I was just plannin on talking to them, but have it your way” he rolled his eyes.

“Sure you were” it was your turn to roll your eyes. “I’m just tired and overwhelmed, it’s been almost a week since I’ve gotten enough sleep, and everything feels like it’s way too much”

“Do you want to be alone? Cause I can leave if you want me to” he asked.

“I don’t know, to be honest. I missed you, but I kinda also want to be alone”

“I don’t really care either way” Dabi yawned.

You were used to his nonchalant attitude. He often came off as cold and uncaring to others, but you knew better. You knew he cared about you, but he also needed a lot of alone time and you didn’t need to be together constantly to know you cared about each other.

“Or, we can just stay like this? I do like being near you, but I don’t really want to talk or anything”

“Fine by me” Dabi stretched and settled more comfortably on the couch.

Dabi was well aware you didn’t really care for talking or affection when you were feeling overwhelmed, but he also knew that even though you enjoyed your alone time, you hated feeling lonely. He was fine with just hanging out while you did your own thing, you didn’t always have to talk about something, you could just enjoy each other’s company in silence too. Besides, he had barely slept for the last few days, so he could just take a nap on your couch, while keeping you company at the same time. Win-win.

[dyns33]

The Temple

Morpheus x female reader 

Y/N was not immortal. She was not a goddess, or a fairy, or a witch.

Only a human waitress who had gotten a job at the New Inn, and had quickly become friends with the owner, Mr. Gadling.

Hob, as he liked to be called, was a bit of a strange man. Very nice, high school history teacher, who used the rest of his free time to take care of his pub, where he served customers while correcting his students' homework.

When asked how he managed to find the time to do everything, he replied mysteriously that he had plenty of time.

It was during a night that Y/N discovered her boss's secret.

As they were going to close, after cleaning the tables and turning off the lights, a man came in, pointing a gun at them, ordering them to give him the money.

Not wanting trouble, Hob agreed, giving everything they had as quickly as possible. But the man had then looked at Y/N with a funny look.

It wasn't hard to know what he was thinking. But before he could speak, Mr. Gadling had then lunged at him, grabbing his arm so he was no longer pointing his gun at Y/N. The fight was quick, a shot was fired, and both men fell to the ground.

The thief was unconscious, as Hob clutched his chest, watching his blood flow. Y/N let out a scream, grabbing a towel to put pressure on the wound, while picking up her phone to call for help, refusing to think that it was unnecessary, as the bullet was at the location of the heart.

Then a strange thing happened. Mr. Gadling was in pain, it was obvious, but he tried to smile anyway, a twisted grin, looking at her kindly. He took her phone and hung up, before wiping away her tears, no longer worrying about his injury.

    "Don't cry, duck. It's okay."

    "Hob... Hob, I'm sorry."

    "No, don't be. It's not your fault. Why are people so stupid and rude ? He couldn't take the money and leave ? As a gentleman, I couldn't leave him to you. touch. Don't worry, I... I just need some time. Then you can call the police."

    "But... You will die." she sobbed.

     "... Can you keep a little secret for when we have to make our depositions ?"

It turned out that Hob Gadling could not die. Not if he didn't want to at least. 

It wasn't very clear, and he himself didn't seem to really know how things worked, but after an hour his wound was almost healed, they were able to clean up the blood and call the police.

    "Well... It was a pleasure to meet you." he sighed when they were alone. "I'm going to have to grab my things and leave now. If you could be lovely and not tell anyone until I'm gone..."

    "What ? You're leaving ?! Why ?!"

    "As soon as someone finds out my secret or suspects something, I leave. I can't stay in the same place for more than twenty years. It was nice, I'll probably come back later when everyone will have forgotten me. I will say that I am a nephew. Damn, I hoped to be there if my stranger decided to find me."

    "But you don't need to leave ! I won't say anything, I swear !"

Hob gazed at her for a long time, considering the situation, before deciding that he trusted her.

He trusted her so much that he told her his whole story. His adventures. His marriage, wife and children.

His stranger.

Another immortal, or something else, supernatural creature, vampire, demon, god.

The one he considered a friend, whom he met once every hundred years, with whom he had argued, and who hadn't come to their last date.

    "Oh." said Y/N sadly. "Why ?"

    "You should ask him. Although he probably won't answer, he's not very good at communication. Maybe he's still mad at me. Maybe he'll never come again. In addition, the pub where we met has closed. That's why I created this place, so that if one day he comes back, he can find me, like before."

Loneliness was a feeling that Y/N knew quite well. Attachment too, to certain people that we always wanted to have with us and whose mere presence made us happy.

Helping Hob Gadling became her mission. Because he was her boss, her friend, her savior, and she wanted him to be happy. So she would do everything to make sure he stayed as long as possible at the New Inn, until his stranger returned.

She took care of the place with much more ardor and love than before, making it warm, welcoming, alive. People who came to the pub all said that the owner and the waitress brought them a little joy and hope.

Every day, Y/N came to work wondering if the stranger would be here this time. Even without knowing him, he occupied her thoughts and her nights. Her dreams. She would picture a tall, pale man, with raven hair, eyes containing a starry night, and from which there emanated something indescribable. She really wanted to meet him, and for him to come back to see Robert, who had been waiting for him for more than a hundred years.

Since he didn't seem human, she wondered if he would hear her prayers. In any case, she didn't know how she could love someone she had never seen, nor how she could miss him.

And one day, when she went to ask Hob if he wanted another coffee to finish correcting his students' papers, she found him sitting across from a man. Even though her instinct immediately told her that it wasn't a man. He was too expressionless to be a man, and he looked a lot like her dreams.

    "Ah ! Y/N !" Hob said when he saw her, his eyes sparkling and a huge smile on his face. "I must introduce you ! Y/N, this is my stranger. Stranger, this is Y/N, my employee and my friend."

    "I see." said the stranger in a distant voice. "Honored to properly meet you, young priestess."

    "Priestess ?"

    "Of course. This temple was built for me, its essence, its walls, all sing in my name, and while you became my priest, Hob Gadling, you were aided by this priestess."

     "... What ?" Hob and Y/N said at the same time.

     "Didn't you feel it ?"

     "Not really, dove." answered the immortal, a little lost. "Are the other employees also priests ?"

     "No. They do not know the purpose of this place."

Y/N didn't really know how to react. By deciding to work at the pub and help Hob, she hadn't signed up to become the priestess of an unknown, visibly tempestuous god who could harm her if she didn't celebrate him properly.

Frightened, she excused herself to serve other customers, before staying behind the counter, as far as possible from Hob and his stranger, who looked at her for a while, before resuming their conversation.

When the god was gone, her boss tried to reassure her. He had been as surprised as she by the term "priest", but he didn't think it really made sense. It only seemed to please his stranger that someone thought of him when creating a place.

     "I don't think he's going to get you in trouble. He never gave me any. Yeah, it hurt me when he left, but that's it, and he came back, and now he will come back In a hundred years, when you... Anyway, he won't give you trouble, I promise you, and if he does, I'll never talk to him again."

This did not reassure her. Y/N went home wondering if she should quit or if it was too late for that. If she had made a pact with the devil without doing it on purpose, like Hob who had become immortal without knowing why.

She still managed to fall asleep despite her fears, only to find herself in a pub that looked like the New Inn, but older.

     "This is the White Horse. Hob Gadling and I used to meet there a long time ago."

The stranger was there, seated at a table by the fire, slowly waving his hand to invite her to take a seat in the chair opposite him. Imagining that she had no choice, Y/N obeyed.

     "I sensed that you were afraid of me, Y/N Y/L/N. My raven informed me that I needed to talk to you to clarify the situation."

     "Your raven ?"

      “Matthew. He can be impertinent, but he has some good advice, when he wants to. As a priestess of the Dreaming, you have certain responsibilities, but you don't have to worry about them. You already fulfill them remarkably well."

     "I don't understand." Y/N sighed, still scared.

     "Very well. I am Dream of the Endless, Morpheus, Master of dreams and nightmares, prince of stories. As my priestess, it is your duty to welcome the dreamers, to entertain them, to give them hope, to guide them on the right path and to ensure that they leave without injury. You are already doing all this, with Hob Gadling as with all those who enter my temple. So I have nothing more to ask from you."

     "... He's going to be furious."

     "... Who ?" asked the stranger, Morpheus, his brow furrowing, giving expression to his doll's face for the first time.

     "Hob ! You haven't told him your name for ages, when I just met you. We're going to be in trouble."

     "Oh ? Really ? I'll think about telling him next time."

     "A hundred years from now ? When I... When I'm gone ? No offense, but I couldn't keep this secret until I died."

     "I was thinking of returning next week, if my obligations permit it. Fear not, I will speak to Hob Gadling. And to my sister, if you wish so, dear priestess. Your love haunts the walls of my temple, as well of your dreams. I will do what I can to make you happy."

He then stood up, the pub around them growing hazy. As if it was perfectly normal, Morpheus took the time to kiss her hand wishing her a good day, then Y/N woke up.

She hesitated to mention this encounter to Hob. Maybe it was just a dream after all. She decided not to give too many details, indicating only that she had dreamed of the stranger, who had confirmed to her that he expected nothing from her, and that he would return soon.

     "Soon ? Next week ? Really ? That would be wonderful !" Hob marveled, hopping around the tables like a 600-year-old child.

     "Yes, wonderful. He also talked about his sister."

     "His sister ?"

     "He said he would talk to her if that was what I wanted." repeated Y/N, continuing to wash the windows, while observing the raven which was standing on a tree.

     "I didn't know he had a sister, but good for him ! He's coming back !"

Morpheus returned, to give his name to Hob who happily accepted it, and to tell Y/N that his sister had accepted. He didn't immediately explain what that meant. It took several years, a panic attack, and Matthew the talking raven to make it clearer.

Even if he hadn't known his name before, Hob was right, his stranger was not very good at communication, too glad to have two priests, and maybe two friends, now immortal.

[idontplaytrack]

Home Sweet Home

Janis ‘Imi’ike x fem! reader(+ big sis Regina & Cady)

Warnings: coarse language, fluff, small make-out scene

Moving day. Read other parts: one / two / three / four

“That’s the last of it.” Janis dusted her hands off, “Now all that’s left is to unpack everything.”

“Thanks. For helping.” Regina says in her usual fashion.

“Eh, just doing what I can.” Janis shrugs, “Besides, I know your back’s been acting up lately.”

“God, y/n just had to say something?” Regina grumbled.

“I don’t want you to be in more pain, is that so bad?” You scoffed playfully. Regina cracked a smile, pulling you closer to her and squishing your face in her hands, “Nope. Thanks, baby.”

You laughed, pulling your face away from her grip. “Let me go.”

“Neverrrr.” She pinches your cheeks this time.

“I’m not a baby.” You huffed.

“Yes you are.” She says cheekily, eyebrows raised, “You’re my precious little—”

“Watch it.” You warned.

Janis chortled. “So…I’m to assume we don’t have food yet.”

“Yeah.” Regina confirmed, finally letting you free. “We should go do some grocery shopping.”

“Good, because I’m hungry.”

“Maybe we should go have lunch first then grocery shop.” Cady pointed out.

“You’re right.” Regina agrees, “Okay, let’s go. Suggestions? Really, nothing?”

“We passed a restaurant earlier when driving here. How about we just try that place?” Cady suggests.

“Alright then, that’s where we’re going.” Regina decided.

“If you fall, I’m not taking you to the hospital, ‘Imi’ike.” Regina scoffs, shoving her phone into her pockets.

“Relax.” Janis laughs.

Once Janis was properly walking on the pavement, you jumped onto her back. She reflexively held onto you. “Hey, babe.” She smiled.

“Oh, good God.” Regina complains.

“Oh, shut up.” Janis mocked.

“The store’s right ahead, are you going to be piggybacking her the whole time?”

“That depends.” Janis answered casually, “You want me to?”

You laughed, “No. I was just playing. Maybe I’ll let you do that again later.”

“Be my guest, honey.” She puts you down, the four of you walk into the grocery store. Cady grabs a cart.

“Keep an eye on your ‘honey’.” Regina teased, “Make sure she doesn’t grab anything that she’s allergic to because trust me, that girl does not care.”

“Way ahead of you.” Janis stifles a laugh, quickly catching up with you while you wandered the aisles. “I was fine when I ate this last time.”

“Put that back.” Janis sighs, “I’m not risking anything here. Allergies are tricky, sometimes you’d be okay, other times a little bit itchy and then there would also be times where you literally cannot breathe. I don’t want that.”

You set the item down and moved on. “There. Cashew butter. Not a trace of peanuts in it, can I put this in there?”

“Yes. Yes, you can.” Janis nodded.

“It’s such a weird feeling watching her grow up and going through those milestones.” Regina admits quietly.

“I bet.” Cady shrugs, “They’re great together, though.”

“For sure.” Regina agrees, “Still weirds me out that Janis is nice to me too so that’s…yeah.”

“She’s always been nice. To me at least.” Cady couldn’t help but laugh a bit, “For you, that’s a different story. But I’m glad you two talked things out.”

Regina sighs, “Can you believe we live on our own now, I mean, holy shit.”

“I absolutely can, you’re doing what’s best for you and y/n and that’s amazing.” Cady beamed.

“You’re too nice to me.”

Cady squints at the blonde, “I’m not just being nice, Gina. I’m being honest and I love you, you’re my girlfriend.”

“Sometimes I just…can’t believe.”

“Well, you better believe it.” Cady jokes, “Hey, you want this?”

“Yes— Oh, shoot! I didn’t make a list.” Regina huffs, annoyed.

“That’s fine, we know what you guys usually eat and have in your fridge and pantry anyway.” Cady assured, “Don’t stress yourself out.”

“My fucking god why are they running around the store like toddlers?!” Regina watched the sight in disbelief. “Janis is a bad influence.”

Cady bites back a laugh, “I’ll go stop them. And, she’s not that bad. In fact I think she’s been doing a great job at getting y/n out of her shell!”

“Cady, please go ask them to stop running around before they break something.” Regina pleads.

“Right.” Cady rushes to locate you and Janis, successfully carrying out her task. “From now on, the four of us, walk together.”

“y/n, go pick your bread.” Regina requested, pinching her temple.

You ignore her.

“Come on, don’t be a baby.” She nudges you. “Fine, I’m just gonna get whatever I want and you can suck it up and eat it.”

“I don’t have anything I want.” You shrug, “Go ahead.”

There it was, those random little moments of low moods. It’s been happening a bunch since the whole argument Regina had with June. You didn’t exactly know why, or what was going on. But deep down, you missed your mother and wished things were different. You just couldn’t get that out to Regina or anyone because life was so much better now, but you missed the good memories you had with your mom after all.

Regina looks at Cady, helpless. “You wanna go look at some candy?” Janis suggested to you, hands on your shoulders forcing you to look up at her, “Or snacks? I’m sure they’ll be okay with you getting as much as you want.”

“Yeah, come on, let’s go get some snacks, okay?” Regina quips.

————

Upon returning to the apartment, the four of you unpacked everything into the pantry and fridge. Next was decorating the place, which got done pretty quickly with four pairs of hands on the task. The place came furnished with basically everything so that helped cut down on having to spend on furniture. At least for a while until they got significant use. “You wanna talk about it?” Regina caught you alone while Janis was on the phone with her Dad and Cady went to pick Damian up — he was coming over for dinner.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“y/n, you know you shouldn’t bottle things up.”

You took in a sharp breath, sighing. “I know this is for the better but I still— I still miss the good times we had with Mom. And Dad, sometimes. So I get sad, and I’ve been sad and that sucks but I have to focus on what’s in front of me instead of…the past.”

“I get that, y/n. That’s normal, because our whole life is just…memories. I just wished that you had talked to me or anyone so that you weren’t feeling like that alone. I get that we all have school and assignments and projects, but still— you can talk to us anytime.”

Janis re-emerges from your room(it was technically also hers because she was going to be here all the time anyway). “Okay. My Dad’s all good with me staying here for tonight— though he said he would want to come over for dinner some time.” Janis laughs, plopping down beside you.

“I mean, really, he can come over any time.” Regina smirked, as per usual, “he’s no stranger.”

Janis shrugs, “Say that loud enough and he just might hear you.”

Regina lets out an exhale in amusement, standing up from her seat on the couch, “Okay, I’m just gonna make something quick for dinner. Spaghetti bolognese. Objections?”

You and Janis shrug, she pulls you onto her lap. “If you start making out on the couch, I’m gonna put you two on separate ends of the room.” Regina warned.

“Really?” Janis asked playfully.

“‘Imi’ike I will literally lift you up and put you away from my sister if I have to.” Regina scoffs.

“Relax, dude.” Janis’ brows knot together, facial expression seemingly offended.

“It’s not like we haven’t kissed before, you know?” You mentioned while standing up to stretch.

“Where you going?” Regina asks, hearing your footsteps depart the living area.

“My room?” You stopped walking but shot Janis a look. The girl practically jumped up in her seat and followed behind you. “Real subtle.” Regina watched with wide eyes.

“Regina, I’m very sleepy.” You sigh, “I will leave my door open, alright? I know the rules.”

Regina stopped messing with you, gaze softening, “Okay. I’m sorry, we had a long day and it didn’t occur to me that you would’ve tired. Go rest, we’ll wake you up with dinner’s ready.”

You sat down on your bed but soon dove forward and just slid and was face first in your mattress while you laid on your stomach. “Hey, you good?”

“Why am I so sleepy? It’s not even dinnertime.” You grumbled. She lays down next to you, on her side, carefully brushing the hair out of your face. “We were out for a majority of the day, babe.” She pointed out, “That’s pretty normal.”

“My back hurts.” You mumbled, “And my head. But I’ve been trying my best to drink more water.”

Janis hums as though in thought, “Could be your period or something.”

“Ugh.” You groaned, “I hate that.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She asks softly, “My God, lifting those boxes earlier must’ve killed your back.”

“It’s not that bad.” You answered, rolling over to face her directly. You saw the concern in her gaze, and your heart melted. “I’m fine, Janis.”

“Yeah, but—” Janis said, but abruptly stopped. Her hand brushing through your hair also stopped its motion, ending up cupping your cheek. God she was just looking right into your eyes…

Feeling your cheeks heat up, you rolled over onto your back to avoid her eye contact. “Honey.” She chuckles, amused.

“What?” You ask, stifling a laugh.

“Can I give you…a kiss?” Janis asks.

“What?” You giggled, mostly at her tone. The girl was a little bit silly sometimes, it made you laugh. Also, sometimes she does it on purpose knowing you would laugh.

Her hand returns to your cheek, guiding your face and the rest of your body to turn and look at her again. “Can I give you a kiss?” She repeated her question, voice low but her tone was gentle. Your eyes wandered over to her lips, god you wanted to kiss her so bad right now, wanting to feel them against your own. It’s been awhile…

“Yes.” You gave into the urge. That was all it took for her to press her lips to yours. Your heart swelled, a smile forming on your face. You could feel the same thing happening to Janis. And what caught you a little off guard was the fact that she so smoothly was able to straddle you. Your eyes opened and saw her looking down at you lovingly, her hand caressing your cheek.

Yes, the door was wide open but neither of you paid any mind to it in the moment.

Seeing that playful glint in her eyes, your heart raced a little bit. Then you felt it, that rush of heat and irresistible desire to kiss her more. “Can I kiss you?” You asked meekly, “Again?”

“Hell yes.” Janis chuckles huskily, leaning down to let you capture her lips into your own. She had a little fun to let you take the lead a bit, but she soon took the control again and deepened the kiss.

A short while later, she pulls away to catch her breath with the biggest smile on her face. It made you smile, feeling all giddy. The longer she looked at you, the more you couldn’t hold back your laughter giggling. Janis climbs off of you, laying next to you once again. “I love you.” You declared.

The girl was grinning, “Aww. I love you too.”

“I’m watching you.” Regina announced her presence, leaning against your doorway.

“Ew.” Janis squinted, “How long have you been standing there?”

“I just got here.” Regina smirked, “Why, should I have been here for longer?”

“Oh, no, no.” You stopped her before she said anything else.

“Yeah, real assuring, y/n.” She teased you, “Kissing with the door open?”

Janis snorted, you smacked her on the arm playfully.

Regina glares at you both, “Excuse me?”

You looked your sister directly in the eye, wiggling your brows, “Home sweet home.”

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💭A/N:

Here we are! Final part <3