#I’m dealing with a lot of anger and frustration lately towards many things and those are emotions that make me isolate even more

[scary-monsters]

depressed as fuuuuck but at least thinking about huffing diego’s armpits still makes me feel Something so i know im not completely lost 😭🫠 the pit sniffing fic is still on my list to write btw.. for the two people interested in that sort of thing (me and myself LOL)

[cervvsq]

rules. — ii

part i

summary: the aftermath of coriolanus’ doings causes many unsolved problems between the two of you, and your marriage needs to heal.

warnings: talk of sex but no actual smut, you dealing with the consequences of what happened to you, angst, swearing, ends in fluff 😇

masterlist

sighing, you shut the door to your bedroom, kicking off your heels and walking into your large closet. once again, another painfully awkward dinner with your dear husband.

stopping in your tracks, your eyes landed on the box sat on your vanity, the material already looking expensive from afar. you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

another one.

stalking towards the millionth gift, your fingers delicately unraveled the silky ribbons.

it was beautiful, you had to admit.

a thin band of gold created a glistening yet classy necklace, with a small clover in the middle. the exact one you and clemensia were chatting excitedly about during last night’s dinner with associates.

must be a coincidence.

those 4 words were on repeat in your mind frequently now. especially every time the product you barely mentioned ended up on your vanity table the next day and every time your lips dared to tug up into smile at your husband’s antics.

no amount of financial gain he could grant would be close to the amount of pain he had caused.

it was a harsh reminder at times. that you couldn’t see him the same as before. and oh, how badly did you want to.

to forgive him, to go back to how it was.

before the awkward silences in car rides.

before rushing to go to sleep before he comes to bed.

but no. even if you had some form of love for him, it wasn’t enough to falter the absolute loathing you felt towards him sometimes.

the pure hatred you felt for letting him take advantage of you that night. in your most vulnerable state.

the pure hatred you felt for yourself every time you looked at your bare body, knowing he had ruined it. he had chewed you up and spit you out, leaving a memory of the girl who viewed herself as a siren.

so no, his little gifts didn’t bring much joy anymore.

as if another fucking necklace is going to make up for what he’s done. it sure wasn’t the first thing around your neck lately. hell, maybe he should stab you and buy a new dress, then everything will be fine—

“i take it the necklace is not to your liking.”

his voice ripped you out of your frustrating thoughts. your narrowed eyes and fingertips digging into the leather box snitched on your inner feelings. turning around, you faked a smile for what felt like the tenth time today.

“it’s beautiful. thank you.” your teeth gritted, “it’s the… third piece of jewellery this week.”

coriolanus matched your tight smile. “yes, well, my wife can never have too much fashion items. what else would you and clemensia giggle about?” he tried to diffuse the tension.

you didn’t laugh. instead, you nodded, your smile dropping as you turned around and placed the box somewhere it will only be merely glanced at. he didn’t need to know that.

the last thing you heard from coriolanus was a small sigh, before he walked into the bathroom.

no more words were shared for the rest of the night.

ᥫ᭡ 4 days later

5 times.

5 times did you have to endure adding another present to your shelves. at this rate, you would need a new room dedicated to his gifts.

you found yourself wondering why he was doing this. were they meant to be apologies? that nearly made you laugh.

it angered you, not knowing why. did he feel guilty? he must do, why else would he bawl in your arms the next day?

you thought about that moment a lot. more so than the actual assault. it had perplexed you, really. sometimes it disturbed you.

how he could go to hitting you, screaming in your face, punishing you — to staining your skin with his poisonous tears.

“‘m sorry, i’m so fucking sorry,” he had cried. the sound of his wracking sobs made your heart clench, even if the very man you had tried to love destroyed you.

nevertheless, you were sick and tired of adding another bracelet, another pair of heels, or another goddamn dress to your shelves.

so imagine your surprise when yet another box of whatever luxury item he had bought showed up on your vanity.

you could not care less at whatever contents it held.

letting your nails dig into your palms and your expression to harden, you strutted towards the prize. picking it up, you didn’t spare another glance at anything else as you quickly paced towards coriolanus’ office.

usually, you would knock first. it was what a proper wife does, to not disturb her husband. now, you hoped with every morsel in your body you did disturb him.

slamming the box onto his desk, you ignored his dumbfounded expression.

“i want you to send this back. and every other gift you’ve bought for me recently.” you breathed heavily, shooting daggers at him.

his floored look only lasted for a few seconds, and he lowered the papers in his hand. he now simply stared at you, calmer than ever.

“as you wish. i’ll get someone to escort it out of our room later.” he stated, before picking up his documents and scanning them again.

oh.

you felt rather foolish standing here now.

“…you’re not going to ask why?” you replied, now the stunned one.

he shook his head.

you let out an exasperated sigh. “coriolanus.”

he looked up, raising his eyebrows for you to continue.

blinking a few times, you were at a loss for words. “do you even care?”

there was a deeper meaning beneath your sudden question, and you both knew it. it had remained unspoken between the two of you, even if the tension had raised tenfold in the air.

setting down his papers once more, he cleared his throat. a habit of his you’d noticed whenever he was trying to remain being the one in control of the conversation.

“i have no problem if the clothes aren’t suitable enough for you—“

“that’s not what i meant.”

he paused. you tried not to look at the way his hands were trembling ever so slightly. “explain it to me, then.”

“you… i-” you sighed, now feeling helpless. “how long is it gonna be like this, coriolanus?”

you shouldn’t have came here. every logical part of your body was screaming at you to just walk out, leave him be. but you couldn’t. you had to save your marriage — even if it was you who needed saving.

he opened his mouth to speak, yet no words left his lips. for a moment, you almost felt scared. it’s not like before. you didn’t need to shudder with worry at the thought of saying the wrong thing, refusing to go anywhere private in fear of getting a cruel scolding, maybe even a harsh slap.

if you had barged into his office and bombarded him with these questions a few weeks ago, you would’ve already been bent over his lap getting called names you didn’t think a president would even know.

but instead of grabbing your hair and reminding you who’s in charge, he stood up, straightening his suit. “i have an important call i need to make at work.”

just leave! you told yourself, but you found your feet moving to stand in front of him before you could register.

“no, don’t walk out on me.” your voice was stubborn, refusing to let him go.

oh, how the tables had turned. weren’t you the one getting threatened not to leave every day? now look at you.

he didn’t care, simply walking past. “coriolanus.”

he picked up his briefcase.

“coriolanus!” you were pleading now.

he opened the door.

“coryo.”

he stopped. you fell silent.

that name hadn’t left your lips ever since the incident occurred. it was almost unknown to you now — a shadow of who he was.

as embarrassing as it felt, you felt tears pool in your eyes. he didn’t turn around.

you both stood there, his back to you, anticipation and uncertainty revolving around the room.

as much as you thought you despised him and his ways, you wanted nothing more than for him to turn around and tell you everything you needed to hear. how much he hurt you, how much you needed healing.

the only thing you received was a sigh and his footsteps receding down the hall.

ᥫ᭡ one day later

you and coriolanus hadn’t spoken much since that afternoon. another day had gone by, and you were exhausted. funny how he can find a way to tire you out even when he practically lives at work.

now, turning your bedside lamp off, the last step of your evening routine was to fall asleep before he came home. the last time you were still awake and felt him getting into bed made your heart race. spending another sleepless night trying to pry off nightmares was not very tempting.

an easy task you would’ve thought, until you felt a hand on your bare shoulder.

freezing, you didn’t think twice to know who it was.

he murmured your name, almost asking if he can touch you. there’s always a first time for everything.

other than small brushes during dinners and fake hand holding during galas, this was the first time he had put a hand on you in private.

after a moment of deep contemplation and pretending to ignore the uncomfortable twist in your stomach, you nodded.

he slowly, carefully laid down on the bed, his arm reaching across and smoothing against your upper body. as if he was terrified you were going to shatter into a million pieces at one wrong movement.

he wasn’t entirely wrong.

his chest pressed against your back, and he lowered his face into your hair from behind, legs not touching. only 3 parts of your bodies were grazing together and his heart was pounding against your back. yours was doing the same.

in silence, you didn’t dare to move. for weeks now, the thought of you two even hugging again was enough to send you into a spiral. but strangely, this felt… different.

this time he wasn’t pressing his cock against your ass, placing kisses along your neck.

this time he wasn’t embracing you after hours of sex.

no, this was different. he was different.

“the sheer pain i have caused you… will haunt me until the day i die.” his deep voice rang in your ears. “and i do not expect one ounce of your forgiveness, nor do i deserve that privilege. i just…”

he trailed off, taking in a sharp breath and exhaling through his nose. was he crying?

“i need you, so, so much. i love you, and the thought of how much suffering i have delivered throughout the years makes me sick.”

now it was your turn to cry.

“you scared me that night.” you whispered, trying to not reveal your breaking voice.

he coated your hair with tears. “i know. i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.” he whimpered.

you didn’t respond. just laid there, quiet tears feeling like droplets of blood as they hit the sheets.

maybe you were an idiot to admit that been back in his arms was comforting. but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t overwhelming.

so, for the rest of the night, you stayed like that. letting his arms tighten every once in a while when you shifted in sleep, still horrified at the thought of losing you.

ᥫ᭡

something in the air had changed between you and coriolanus that night.

whether is was his seemingly heartfelt apology or the way neither of you pulled away from each others touch all night, who knows.

but there was no denying the fresh lightness you both felt when waking up tangled together. of course, your mental wounds still had a long journey yet to heal — and maybe they never will fully. he knew that, and from his words and the way he was staring at you right now told you he would help in anyway possible.

that didn’t mean everything was sunshine and rainbows, no. a sincere apology wasn’t going to erase all the torment you had endured — nor was it going to allow him to go back to how he used to treat you.

over the past few days, it almost felt like things had gone back to normal. almost.

sure, you still hadn’t kissed yet, and he hadn’t uttered another word about what he had done after a couple days.

but suddenly you didn’t dread the thought of him coming home, dinners weren’t unbearable — in fact, he even waited until you were finished to leave the table. usually it was the other way round.

the end of your day began feeling like the beginning, what with this little routine you and coriolanus had formed. every night, after dinner, you both would get ready for bed together. no interruptions, no standards, just the two of you in your own little world. it quickly became the highlight of your day.

tonight was a particularly special night.

your routinely procedure had been scheduled earlier it seems, with the time being 6pm and the shower already raining down onto the bathroom tiles.

“do you think i should wear the blue or red dress this evening, coryo?” you called out from your dressing room.

“both would look amazing on you. but red, i think, would suit you perfectly.” he replied from the steamy bathroom, his deep voice not needing to raise to echo off the walls.

you smiled at his choice, nodding as if he could see you.

holding the pretty crimson dress in front of your full-length mirror, you couldn’t help but feel all giddy inside. as if you were 19 again, getting ready for your first date with coriolanus.

it might as well be your first date all over again, with your freshly mended marriage. coryo had proposed an evening out at one of the finest restaurants in the capitol, all booked out for you of course. you had smiled and agreed, as if you weren’t buzzing with excitement at getting dressed up for an event you were actually looking forward to.

whilst you applied mascara, coriolanus walked in, wrapped in a towel. he had lost some weight during the past few weeks, yet his muscles were still rather prominent. you never commented on this observation.

“you look…” he let out a deep breath, struck by your pure beauty.

rolling your eyes playfully, you nodded towards the newly bought suit laid on your bed. he insisted on buying you clothes, yet that didn’t mean you couldn’t return the favour. even if it was with his money.

a chuckle was heard from him, “darling, you didn’t need to.”

“you don’t like it?” you tilted your head, walking up behind him and wrapping your arms around his torso.

he shook his head immediately. “no, no, i love it. thank you, i didn’t think buying suits for me was on your mind. you’ve seen how many i own.”

“you’ve seen how many dresses i own, too. yet you still continue to buy me more.” you retorted. he smiled fondly, turning around and placing his hands on your waist.

your eyes met, the light banter turning into something deeper. the strain in his piercing blues was evident, and you knew what he was preventing himself from doing.

preventing himself from smashing his lips onto yours, taking what’s his and showing you just how gorgeous you are right now.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t crave that just about now.

but kissing was a big step to cross, at least for you. maybe he didn’t see it — but even his hand grazing along your neck made your heart race.

if you were being honest, you’d say it wasn’t him kissing you that made your anxiety spark. it was not knowing how you’d react that scared you. what if you despised the feeling of his lips on yours, and all of this progress so far was for nothing. or what if you were just overthinking it and the more physical contact, the more closer you both got.

either way, your view on it was black and white. it was a miracle or a train wreck. you didn’t want to risk the chances.

so, you stepped back, pulling yourself out of your shared trance, smoothing your hands over your dress. you tried to divert the conversation, hoping he’ll follow. “what time is the car coming?”

he cleared his throat, luckily catching on to what you were trying to do. “30 minutes now. i’ll get changed, wait for me in the living room.”

that wasn’t a question; you of all people would recognise. you nodded, giving him a small smile and leaving the room.

even if things had… adapted in your relationship, coriolanus’ knack for commanding didn’t waver at times. not all of his habits had been set in stone, though coriolanus was a naturally controlling man and nothing would change that.

ᥫ᭡

clutching onto coryo’s hand, you giggled as you walked out of the restaurant. your laughter was fuelled by the pure joy of the night you’ve had — and maybe the couple glasses of wine you drank. coriolanus had made sure you watched how much you poured, so maybe you were a little tipsy.

being drunk would remind you of that night, and that was awful to think about. good thing this night had made you ecstatic.

“thank you for this, coryo. you always know how to make me smile.”

now it was his turn to laugh, stopping you both to stand in front of the fancy building you emerged from. “so do you, my love.”

it was almost as if the stars aligned exactly for this moment, the deep black sky littered with white dots of glimmer. the moon shone proudly down onto you both, his tall figure exaggerated as he towered above you.

your hands went up, his once neat, gelled hair now slightly messy, showing off his curls more. distracted by taming his hair, you didn’t realise how profoundly he was admiring your face, his pacific eyes roaming over your features. taking in his beautiful wife.

your eyes met his. you nearly blushed. “what?”

he didn’t reply.

deep, deep yearning was the only way to describe the look on his face right now. you batted your eyelashes up at him, oblivious to the unrequited love he was silently expressing.

maybe looks weren’t enough.

he leaned forward, gently capturing your lips with his.

at first, you were completely taken aback. but with his hands resting on your hips and the small patter of rain beginning to fall above you, you couldn’t help but fall into his touch, kissing him back just as tenderly.

a mix of relief, desire, and slight hesitance laced the kiss. it wasn’t like anything you had predicted — no, it was nearly perfect. you could tell he didn’t want to hurt you, and the usual hunger and lust which poisoned your kisses before had died down.

you broke the kiss when the sound of the car pulled up. you couldn’t be happier that was the only reason.

your foreheads rested against each other for a moment as you caught your breath, not caring about the droplets of rain coating your hair. coryo’s hand came up to your cheek.

“let’s get you home, yeah?” he murmured, taking your hand and walking towards the car.

the ride home was somewhat healing in itself.

no longer sitting the furthest distance from one another, his hand snaked around your waist as your head rested on his shoulder.

no radio silence filling the car awkwardly, now it was filled with light teasing and small reassurances.

“did you enjoy tonight?” his voice was low, right by your ear yet strangely soothing. you sleepily nodded, feeling your limbs relax. he leaned back against the leather seats and pulled you closer, your head resting on his chest.

the last thing you heard before slumber took you was, “go to sleep, my sweet girl. i’ll wake you when we arrive.”

ᥫ᭡

shifting lazily in your drowsiness, you cracked your eyes open, expecting to be met with your husband’s voice telling you you’re home. instead, you were met with the sound of the tap running in the bathroom and the sight of your silky sheets.

“coryo?” you croaked out, still practically half asleep.

rubbing your eyes and reluctantly getting out of bed, you walked over to your nightgown set on the armchair in the corner. he must’ve laid out some pyjamas for you. part of you wished he would’ve dressed you himself.

taking off your tightly clasped bra, you pulled the silky gown over yourself and walked into the bathroom, greeted by the sight of your shirtless husband brushing his teeth.

he spat out the toothpaste into the sink once he saw you. walking over, he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“how did i get upstairs?” you questioned, voice delicate.

“i brought you up.” he mumbled simply, leaning down to bury his nose into your hair. he was tired too, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“you carried me?”

he nodded, pulling away slightly. “is that okay?”

you didn’t reply. it wasn’t for the wrong reasons, but you couldn’t help just staring at him, almost dumbfounded.

who was this coryo who carried you to bed when you fell asleep? who knew, but you desperately didn’t want him to leave.

if you could see yourself now a mere few weeks ago, hell, maybe even 6 months ago, you wouldn’t of believed it. it was almost too good to be true.

maybe it was just the small wine intake taking over that brought you to tears. it sure surprised you, as it did for coriolanus.

“oh, oh darling. c’mere.” his concerned tone only made you cry even more. little did he know it was happy tears. he pulled you into his strong chest, like he was protecting you from the rest of the world. “what’s the matter?”

“i just-…” you blubbered, flinging your arms around him.

“breathe, sweetheart. talk to m—” his words were abruptly interrupted by you reaching up and kissing him vehemently.

he was taken aback for a moment, but he quickly found the rhythm and kissed back with just as much passion. his hand went to the back of your head, fingers holding you firmly.

the once deep, emotional kiss you had initiated gradually turned into something softer, slower. your hand rested on his jaw, feeling how your mouths moved meticulously against each other.

the motivation for suddenly catching his lips with yours was unbeknownst to you. whether it was the overwhelmingly strong realisation that coriolanus snow had changed for the better, or the unadulterated gratefulness you felt for the Gods above that they had freed you from your torment, who knows. all you knew was that the nostalgic craving of having his lips on yours was back: more than just a longing memory.

pulling away, you both let out a breath of air. your lips were tainted with colour from his own, cheeks flushed from his heavy breathing.

a breathless chuckle left you both at the same time, and his hands slid to the back of your thighs, lifting you up as if you weighed nothing and walking into the bedroom.

ᥫ᭡ the next morning

coriolanus was entranced by the old sight of your hair splayed across your pillows, lips slightly parted as your legs tangled with his. it was times like this that kept him going.

your eyes opened after a few more minutes, a small yawn escaping your throat as you stretched. coryo leaned forward and placed a small kiss on your temple.

the ruffled pile of your nightgown laying at the bottom of your bed used to be a telltale sign that you and coryo had had the time of your lives the night before. mostly coriolanus.

now it wasn’t remotely related to sex.

your nightgown and coryo’s trousers had been ditched last night, simply because the feeling of each other’s warmth was the equivalent to a lullaby. it had coaxed you both to sleep, being completely enclosed in one another all night. it felt like a fairytale.

“what’s going on in that little head of yours?” coriolanus smirked. you smiled, moving to place your head on top of his bicep.

“just… how much we’ve changed.” you admitted.

his relaxed demeanour slightly shifted at the topic of how they were in the past. he nodded. “go on.”

“i wouldn’t imagine us like this a few weeks ago,” you continued, “it all just feels crazy.”

“in a good way, i hope.” he tilted his head.

“definitely in a good way. i prefer it like this. no arguments, no standards, no… rules.”

he chuckled at that last word. “rules?”

you giggled, cheeks heating at your choice of words. “yeah, your orders, i don’t know.”

he shook his head with a fond smile. you knew he felt guilty about the ordeal, but still being in the presence of the president, your husband, made you feel a little stupid at times.

he pulled you closer, lips brushing against yours. “so no more rules?”

“no more rules.”

ᥫ᭡ end.

eee so happy i finished this! sorry for the late post, severe case of writers block has been on and off for days 💔 hopefully this healed u from part i, it sure did for me :)

[goldentournesol]

Be Careful What You Wish For

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

The one where Spencer gets exactly what he wished for, but it isn’t necessarily for the best.

Length: 5k 

A/N: this is based off of maybe one of the best requests i have ever received, thank you so much anon, your request really got my creative juices going! also i combined this request with another one, too <3 (angst, just straight up, with happy ending tho)

masterlist

The sun was shining against the glass windows of the car. The sunset was so beautiful with its melting and merging colors, Y/N wished it lasted longer so she could watch it. It’d been feeling like beautiful moments were few and far between lately. 

No one ever said being in a relationship was easy, but she’d never expected to drift this far from Spencer. She couldn’t exactly place the moment at which the descent of their relationship began, if she was being honest. One day, they’d be happy, smiling, full of love and life. And then the next, waves of darkness and despair would appear. They weren’t even the kinds of waves that would disappear with the shining sun. No, they were there to stay and fuel the storm that continues to rage on. 

Today was one of those days. To be fair, the whole team was struggling, but Spencer had taken Morgan’s departure a little harder than everyone else. It was understandable, of course. Derek was a staple in Spencer’s life for so long. However, for a man who’s seen and been through so many losses, he sure was terrible at dealing with them. Spencer’s tendency to keep things bottled up had definitely been affecting the overall health of their relationship. In fact, it has been the root of a lot of their arguments lately. Y/N just wanted him to let her in, let her help him and she was willing to wait however long it takes. Spencer on the other hand grew more and more snappy, irritable, and private with each passing day.

When they were at work, they tried their best to avoid each other so as to not get on each other’s nerves. Their fights usually didn’t turn into screaming matches, but they both had a track record of saying things they don’t mean. Hurtful things. Turns out profilers are fantastic at rubbing salt into open wounds. 

Ever since they began dating, Spencer took the subway less, opting for car rides with Y/N. Sometimes she’d drop him off, other times they’d spend the rest of the day at each other’s houses. She enjoyed driving him around, at first he was never too picky with the music she played, but later on, his music began to overtake hers. It never bothered her, in fact, she took it as a sign of him being vulnerable and sharing parts of himself.

The days where car rides once filled with joyous singing and laughter were coming to a shocking halt. The silence nowadays was almost always louder than the music they used to play. Even small talk felt like too much of a burden sometimes.

“Should I just drop you off at your place? Or do you wanna come over to mine? I still have some of that lasagna you liked in the fridge.” She asked softly as they slowed down into traffic. Rush hour in DC was never fun.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just have whatever’s at my place.” Spencer was being curt with his responses. Thus, the warning signs began flashing in her head.

“Are you sure? We can even pick something up from that one grocery store on our way home, something that goes well with the lasagna. I don’t mind cooking today.” She offered, hoping he wouldn’t shut her out like he usually did.

He shook his head, keeping his voice eerily level and his gaze was set on the road in front of him, “I just really wanna be home, Y/N.”

She nodded and whispered, “Okay.”

A short silence ensued as traffic began to thin out. Cars that were stuck bumper to bumper were beginning to move.

“Is this about Derek leaving?” She asked tentatively. He sighed and pursed his lips in response so she continued, “You know he said he was always a phone call away.”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” Spencer said shortly, gazing out the window.

“You never want to talk about anything.” She said defeatedly, the car beginning to move freely on the road.

“Yeah, well maybe that’s true. Or maybe I just don’t want to talk to you.” Spencer spat, clearly growing impatient.

“Fine, don’t talk to me then. But talk to someone, anyone! Hell, talk to Derek himself. Tell him you hate him for leaving or whatever you’re feeling, but don’t take out your anger and unresolved feelings out on me, okay? I don’t deserve that! Everyday I try to get you to talk to me, but it seems like with every little step I take forward, you take two steps back. And it’s exhausting. It is fucking exhausting, Spencer.” She frowned, tears welling up in her eyes but she refused to let them fall.

“I didn’t ask you for that! I didn’t ask for you to be my personal therapist. If I wanted to see a therapist, I would have gone to see one!” Spencer gestured wildly with his hands as he spoke.

“Spencer, in a relationship, we’re supposed to confide in one another. It’s supposed to be comforting. I don’t want to be your therapist, I just want you to talk to me!” She unconsciously began to press on the pedal, perhaps in an attempt to reach a destination quicker. He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Relationship? You call this a relationship? We can barely stand to be in the same room together, Y/N.”

“And that’s why we talk it out. No relationship is ever perfect! You should know that, Spencer!” She shrieked, gripping the steering wheel in frustration.

“That’s not true. What I had with Maeve was perfect until it was ruined.” He uttered.

“Maeve?!” She squealed incredulously, “Really?! What you had with Maeve was perfect?! Spencer, what you had wasn’t real like us! You spoke to her over the phone once a week! You wrote to her in letters, where you have time to-to think and to respond! It isn’t like real life, it isn’t like you and me! What we have is real! I-I’ve lived with you, I’ve seen you torn to pieces, I’ve seen you laugh until you cry. That’s the you I fell in love with, not some fantasy I created of you over the phone!” She spoke but the words were garbled between incoming sobs that she was frantically wiping the remnants of off her cheeks. The same sobs she’d tried so hard to suppress. She was barely aware of the words that came out of her mouth.

“If what I had with Maeve wasn’t real, then why do I wish she were the one here with me instead of you?!” Spencer defended, unaware of how sharp his words were or how deeply they’d wounded her.

Her breath hitched in her throat, taking her already blurry vision off of the road in front of her to face him, “What?” She whispered brokenhearted, but the utterance was immediately swallowed by the unmistakable, earsplitting sound of metal clashing violently against metal. They had no choice but to succumb to the inundating darkness that rapidly overtook them both.

***

Spencer woke with a violent start and sat up in his own bed. He sighed in relief when he realized it was just a dream and it was morning again. Turning his head to look at the left side of the bed where she usually slept, he expected to find her there and was taken by surprise when she wasn’t. He rubbed at his face and eyes vigorously before hearing some clattering in the kitchen. With long strides he saw a blurry figure in the kitchen making coffee and walked towards it. 

He sighed in relief, “Hey, there you are. I just had the worst dream.” He huffed as he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her neck in his half-asleep state.

“Hey, good morning, lovebug.” She smiled and turned around to hug him tightly.

Something felt off. Something wasn’t right.

He’d heard that voice before. He pulled back from the hug and was met by…

It wasn’t Y/N. It was Maeve.

Spencer could barely control his expression as complete bone-stilling shock washed over his entire being, “M-Maeve?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong, honey? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She said, a kind smile resting upon her features. If Spencer wasn’t so shocked, he’d probably have laughed at the absurd truth of that statement. Maeve brought her hand up to his forehead, “Are you feeling okay?”

He didn’t even have time to be confused before he jerked back quickly at the touch of her hand, “I-uh, uh...I’m not feeling too g-good. Um...what’s happening?” He mumbled, rubbing at his eyes again, almost like they’d be polished and he’d see more clearly. But when he opened his eyes again, she was still there. Right in front of him. There was no light emitting from behind her, she was totally opaque. It was eerily real.

Her face was full of color and life and she was dressed in one of his cardigans over her own set of matching pajamas. She was moving and...alive. And speaking to him. What is happening right now?

“But y-you’re...how are you here right now? Am I still dreaming? Am I...Maeve, am I dead?” Spencer shook his head in an attempt to wake back up.

She began to laugh and pulled out a chair for him to sit on, and so he did, still staring up at her in disbelief, “No, baby, you’re very much alive. You’re probably just still confused from whatever nightmare you had. Here, have some water.”

“Y-yeah, yeah, confused. Um, what day is it?” Spencer began to pat on his chest to make sure he was solid and alive. 

She looked at him curiously at his strange behavior, “It’s April 5th, 2016.”

April 5th? Derek left the BAU near the end of March. A light bulb went off in his head. 

The BAU! 

They’d have all the answers. He shot up from his seat immediately, “I uh, have to get to work.” Spencer rushed to his bedroom to get dressed. 

As he’s dressing, he spots a picture frame on his bedside table. He knows the picture by heart, it was of him and Y/N in the pumpkin patch last year. He’d had his arms tightly wound around her shoulders and was kissing her cheek. The leaves were the most colorful they’d ever been. He picked it up and almost dropped it immediately like it had burned his skin. It was the same picture. 

But Y/N was nowhere to be seen. In her place was Maeve.

No, no, no. This isn’t right. 

Spencer began to panic as he buttoned up his shirt, he threw on his cardigan and practically flew out the door. In the distance, he could hear Maeve in the background calling out for him to drink his coffee before leaving.

The train ride to work was truly a test of his patience. He couldn’t keep his knee still and checked his watch religiously. After the train stopped, was the first one off and ran as fast as his poor feet could take him. He stopped running when he got to the FBI Headquarters as to not alarm anyone, but raced to the sixth floor anyway.

As he opened the glass doors he searched frantically for any familiar face, “Garcia!” He yelled as he spotted her bright yellow clad figure across the bullpen. He pushed through tired agents and messy desks to get to her. Everything else was the same, the office was just as he remembered it.

“Good morning, boy wonder! How are you today?” She smiled graciously, holding a few files in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

“Have you seen Y/N?” He asked impatiently. She pulled her brows together.

“Do you mean Y/N...Y/L/N?” She asked slowly, as if trying to recall her name.

“Yes, of course I mean Y/N Y/L/N. Who else would I be talking about?” Spencer asked, once again losing more of his patience.

“No, I haven’t seen her, to be honest. I don’t see much of the White-Collar Crime division up here unless Hotch asks for them. Why do you need Y/N? Is she okay?” Garcia casually answered, as if her answer hadn’t turned his world--this world--whatever the hell he was experiencing upside down.

“White-Collar crime? No, that can’t be right.” Spencer muttered to himself as his brain raced a million miles a second.

“Reid, is everything alright? Is there a possible case? Should I tell Hotch?” Garcia asked, but Spencer was barely listening.

 He was on his way back to the elevators again, leaving an extremely confused Penelope in his wake. He raced down to the fourth floor, to the White-Collar crime division. As the elevator doors opened, his eyes scanned the crowded floor for her.

“Dr. Reid! It’s nice to see you down here. What can I do for you?” An agent, Agent Seymour, he’s met perhaps once before asked him.

“Hi, yes, I’m um..looking for one of your agents. Agent Y/L/N.” Spencer stuttered, it was weird saying her name so formally. But he had to see it with his own eyes.

“Yes, of course, right this way. I think she just came in.” The agent led him to a desk in the middle of the bullpen and left him, saying that she was probably getting coffee and should be back an second. Spencer looked over her desk and compared it with how her desk at the BAU looked like. Gone were the trinkets and books he’d given her. Gone was the candle she never lit, but kept anyway because she said it smelled like him. It was like staring at a stranger’s desk, so desolate, so...un-special.

“Jeremy, stop. I almost spilled my coffee!” She giggled from behind him. He’d recognize her voice anywhere. He turned to see her and his lungs filled with relief as he spotted her familiar face across the bullpen. There she was, in all her glory. Looking as beautiful as ever. His Y/N. But the relief was ripped away all too suddenly as he watched on. She had her coffee in one hand and the other was swatting a very sheepish looking Jeremy, he assumed.

“I’m sorry, baby. I just missed you.” He spoke, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing a kiss to her lips. 

She blushed immediately and shied away, “Jeremy, we’re in the office!” She giggled again and pulled away from him, glancing around the office as if to check if anyone saw the moment of affection. Spencer’s blood boiled before he realized.

She looked so happy. 

So much happier than she ever looked when she was with him. His heart sank to his feet and he felt like he was incapable of lifting it back up to its rightful place in his chest. He wondered if this was the universe’s cruel, cruel way of letting him know just how shitty of a boyfriend he’s really been. Fire of envy festered in the place where his heart used to reside. He wasn’t sure if it was jealousy, resentment, or guilt. 

It all felt so strange. It felt like there was suddenly way too much pressure in his head. Before he could begin to compute the events unfolding before him, he realized she had spotted him at her desk and was now making her way across the bullpen, separating from her Jeremy. Before he could freak out, she was speaking to him. And all he could focus on was the shape of her lips and the faint memory of how they felt pushing against his.

“Dr. Reid! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you here?” She asked politely, but Spencer could tell that she was immeasurably confused by his presence, “Does Agent Hotchner need something from the White Collar crimes archives?”

Spencer panicked, “Yes! Um, he does...and um he asked me to ask you s-specifically. That’s why I’m here, heh.” He stammered like the nervous wreck he was and wiped his sweaty palms on the inside of his pockets.

“Okay, that’s no problem. Just tell me the number of the file and I’ll get it for you.” She smiled slightly, setting her cup of coffee down on her desk. At least her coffee order was still the same as it was. 

She disappeared for a few moments after he gave her a random sequence of numbers. Spencer wasn’t even sure how his legs were still capable of holding himself up. When she came back and he got a whiff of her perfume, his body completely stilled. He knows that scent like the back of his hand, he’d given it to her for their first anniversary. The fresh scent nearly sent him into anaphylactic shock. He’d accepted the file and scurried back to the sixth floor without another word, once again leaving a confused woman in his wake.

Spencer collapsed at his desk and rubbed his head like it would somehow fix this. Whatever this was. Everyone around him operated so normally and went about their day while he was seconds away from losing his mind. 

Was he having a schizophrenic scare? Did his symptoms bleed into his 30’s even though they weren’t supposed to? What was this alternate universe where he’d lost the one good thing he’s ever known? How was he supposed to get back? Did he want to go back? What would happen if he did? Would it be fair for Y/N to stick with him when he knew she would be so much happier with someone else? Would he try harder for her? Would he stop shutting her out? Would the woman he loved so dearly ever love him back?

He must not have ever been deserving of her love and the universe was punishing him in the worst way possible. To have her be within arm’s reach but to never be able to hold her. 

Once upon a time, he would have given up anything and everything to be with Maeve, but that was before Y/N. Before she gave him a new life, one he wanted to live. One where waking up wasn’t such a task. One where seeing her smile at him was enough to make him forget about all his worries. But now Y/N looked at him with barely a sliver of recognition. There was no affection or adoration behind those eyes and maybe he deserved that.

But how was this universe expecting him to go on like everything is fine? Like he hadn’t just lost the love of his life? No one else in this warped version of Spencer’s reality was feeling as dejected as Spencer was.

“Reid, are you feeling alright?” The voice of none other than Aaron Hotchner brought him out of his stupor. Spencer had unknowingly been sobbing into his hands for the past few minutes. Hotch was taken aback at the extent of Spencer’s disheveled state.

“H-Hotch, I need to go home. I can’t be here. I’m sorry.” Spencer packed his things and ran out the building before he realized he had nowhere to go. Home wasn’t his home anymore. He couldn’t exactly go back and see his dead girlfriend wandering around his apartment. He couldn’t be at work where Y/N was, so blissfully unaware of the crisis Spencer was in the middle of.

He wandered the streets of DC aimlessly as he tried to reorganize the events in his head and somehow make sense of them. Just a few days ago, he and Y/N had been holding one another on his couch. Sure, they’d been in a rut recently, but they still loved each other. At least that’s what he thought.

He walked and walked, miles on end, keeping his gaze on his feet as he tried to piece bits together. An IQ of 187 and he had absolutely no idea how whatever was happening to him happened. Even the multiple universes theory didn’t have his back. If he was ‘here’, where has ‘here’s’ Spencer gone? 

His feet had taken him to the local park, where he and Y/N used to sit under the stars. He found himself reminiscing the times they were together. He saw himself and Y/N in every couple that passed him by. Exhausted, Spencer took a seat on a patch of grass. He buried his face into his hands and tried to relieve himself of the headache he’d developed. 

“Hey, mister! Watch out!!” He heard a child yell way too loudly.

Groaning at the volume, he looked up to see the vague shape of a spinning baseball increasing in size as it moved closer….closer. Spencer had no time to react before he was knocked out cold by the baseball.

***

The first thing she’d heard was the incessant beeping of...something next to her. After that, she’d heard faint chatter. The voices sounded familiar but she just couldn’t put her finger on it. She whimpered in pain which caught the attention of everyone in the room. The chatter ceased. 

“Y/N? Honey, it’s Pen, can you hear me?” A voice called. She fought to open her eyes.

Why was it so hard to open her eyes? It was like they were glued shut. Why did everything hurt? What is that smell?

She made a small noise of agreement to the voice that called, but could not coordinate herself enough to speak or open her eyes.

“Y/N, darling, you’re in the hospital, okay? You were in a car accident.” She spoke softly. 

But the words weren’t soft at all. Her words had opened up a Pandora’s box of previously suppressed memories. Suddenly it was hard to breathe. It was hard to breathe as she tried to remember the last moments before the fog. She remembered seeing him so angry, eyes so wild. Who is he? So...so close. She whimpered in pain as she fought the fog away. 

Blood.

So much blood. 

Pain.

So much pain.

The others watched as she began to writhe against the hospital bed in discomfort. Her eyes snapped open the second she saw his face in her mind, frantically searching the room for him.

Spencer.

“Sp-Sp--” She began, but couldn’t formulate the rest of the word. Exhausted and defeated by the lack of his presence, she lay back on the bed.

“Hey, hey, calm down. Spencer’s...Spencer’s fine, alright? You can’t see him right now, but you will be able to.” Those words were the last thing she heard before she slipped off into a silent slumber.

Hours later, she awoke again. But this time with enough strength to open her eyes immediately. Her limbs felt like they weighed tons, she could barely lift a finger. The room was empty besides a single chair with a blurry figure seated in it.

“Spencer?” She uttered almost inaudibly and the figure moved.

“Hey there. Sorry, I’m not Spencer.” The figure moved closer and she recognized the blonde sheen.

“JJ.” Y/N croaked with relief, happy to see a friend. JJ promptly gave her some water in a cup and adjusted the bed so that she would be able to swallow it.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, taking the cup from Y/N’s trembling hands.

Y/N shook her head imperceptibly, “Is...Spence--is he?” Y/N barely got to finish her thought before the tears settled in.

“No, gosh, no. He’s alive. Thankfully, you both made it out alive.” JJ said with relief, leaning her elbows against the side of her bed. Y/N felt her breathing get easier as she learned of the news. She blinked hard, trying to control the tears, but they just flowed out.

“It’s my fault, JJ.” she paused to take a deep breath and JJ took one of her hands in hers, “I was the one driving. I should have been more careful. I-I was so mad.” She sobbed, the tears escaping.

“Hey, no, it’s alright now. Okay, you’ve both made it out alive, that’s what’s important.” JJ rubbed Y/N’s knuckles.

“W-where is he? I need to see him.” Y/N attempted to sit up but winced from the sharp pain in her side.

“Um..yeah, about that. You can’t really get up yet. You’ve got three broken ribs, a broken leg, and a severe concussion.” JJ delivered the news and Y/N’s tears seemed to flow even harder.

Before she could respond, Hotch, Penelope, and a nurse walked into the room, “Oh, sunshine! It’s so good to see you awake!” Penelope squealed and kissed her wet cheek gently before wiping away her tears. The nurse checked all her vitals and gave her some extra information before she left. Y/N forced a smile and sat back, but something in the room felt heavy.

“What’s going on? What aren’t you guys telling me?” Y/N frowned, staring at her friends. She saw them all exchange a look and Hotch being the most straightforward man she knows decided to deliver the news.

“It’s Spencer. Unfortunately, Spencer’s brain has swelled significantly and doctors don’t know when he’ll wake. It’s already been almost 42 hours since the accident.” Hotch frowned, watching Y/N’s expression turn from a hopeful one into one of the most unbearable expressions of grief.

“Wh--what, what does that mean? Does that mean he’s--is he ever going to wake up?” She began to panic, her heart rate audibly increasing. She squeezed JJ’s hand as hard as she could.

“We can’t be sure yet, the swelling has to go down before doctors can make any claims. It’s still too early to say he’s in a coma, which is a good sign. He’s also been showing steady signs of improvement.” Hotch said and Y/N covered her face to shield herself away from the embarrassment of openly sobbing.

JJ and Penelope both looked at the bruised and broken girl on the bed with tears brimming their eyes, unsure of what to do.

“I have to see him. Please. Please, JJ.” Y/N sobbed, pleading at the woman beside her. JJ looked towards Hotch for guidance.

“I’ll speak with the Doctor and see what I can do.” Hotch nodded once and left the room. Aaron Hotchner was simply a man you couldn’t say no to. Thankfully, this extended to doctors as well. The next time someone came in, they entered with a wheelchair. After many screams and with the help of three nurses and a doctor, they managed to get Y/N into the wheelchair. They rolled her off into Spencer’s room where he lay motionless on a bed just like hers. The sight of him so frail with so many tubes going in and out of his orifices should have overwhelmed her, but she was just so happy to see him breathing. Once again she could barely control her tears as she weakly gripped at the hand that was closest to her. She pressed sloppy, uncoordinated kisses to the back of his hand and pleaded for him to wake.

The sight was overwhelming, even for Hotch. It was difficult to see their two youngest agents fight for their lives.

And for the next two days, this is how it went. Y/N would wake from her slumber, request to see Spencer and would not leave his side unless her Doctor absolutely required her to. She didn’t care about what he’d said to her before the crash, she didn’t care. It didn’t matter. She just wanted him here. She wanted to hear his voice again. What a luxury that was.

Slowly, Spencer began improving. He’d begin to open his eyes but shut them immediately afterwards. He’d make noises, even though they were very garbled, they were very welcome. Y/N would read to him, she’d have any one of their friends bring over his favorite books and she’d pass the time reading to him. It was difficult at first, but she’d improved too.

On the fifth day, he was awake and fully conscious before she even got to his room.

He heard his teammates speaking around him again and what a relief it had been to wake in a hospital bed rather than his own bed. He let out a heavy sigh of relief as they updated him of what happened in the recent days. 

It wasn’t real. 

None of it was.

Maeve wasn’t there, Y/N was his, no one else’s.

He’d been sure of it when they’d rolled her into his room and near his bed, eyes lit with hope surrounded by healing scrapes and bruises.

“Spence? Spencer!” She exclaimed, “Oh thank God you’re awake.” She whispered trying her hardest to lean towards him on the bed.

Spencer fought to raise his arm to touch her arm, “Y/N? A-are you really here?” He whispered back.

“I’m here baby, I’m here. I’m never leaving you.” She sobbed, leaning her face into his awaiting palm. Spencer’s chest filled with immense relief as his thumbs caught her fallen tears.

“Y/N, wait--Y/N, I’m so sorry...I’m so sorry about what I said. I remember. I didn’t mean it. You’re the one for me. Life is perfect with you.” Spencer frowned as tears of his own raced down his cheeks.

Y/N shook her head, “It’s okay, I don’t care about that anymore. I could have lost you. I-if I had lost you, I would have lost myself Spencer. I love you so much. I love you so much.” She repeated as she kissed the palm of his hand. 

“I love you so much, Y/N.”

How could he have ever wished to live without this? Without her?

The universe had taught him his lesson and boy was he glad he had learned it.

[devildomimagines]

could we maybe get the brothers' reactions to an mc that has a lot of bottled up anger issues? kinda similar to how satan is with his wrath, but they just... can't stay mad for very long; they can be upset, sure, but mad? angry, even?? maybe for like, idk, a minute before it just fizzles out.

Sure thing! I love exploring emotions so let's go~

Belphegor

He doesn’t totally understand the rage but he’s lived with Satan long enough.

Though don’t get him wrong, he’s been angry before, frustrated and grieving to the point of murder *cough* but typically he doesn’t have the energy to expend.

Belphie definitely knows the feeling of fatigue once the anger has run its course and left you burnt out.

He offers you support in those moments, calm and quiet so as to not fan the embers.

If he’s awake, he recognizes the first signs of your anger. Your short replies, the tension in your jaw and the way your fists clench and unclench.

He’s never seen you let loose but he secretly wants to see the destruction you could cause.

If he catches it in time, he’ll pull you away from the situation, claiming he needed you for a nap.

Beelzebub

The same as his twin, not typically angry but understands from being around Satan.

The only times you can remember seeing him in a fit of anger were when he was denied food one too many times or when his team lost their Fangol match.

Beel doesn’t think you would be as explosive as he has seen Satan be but he also doesn’t want to take the chance and have you get in trouble.

I like to think he’s pretty attuned to his human, he can sense when their heart rate raises or feel the tension in the air when their anger flares.

He immediately takes steps to extricate you, even if that means throwing you over his shoulder and booking it out the door.

I think he would go to Satan for things that he does to calm down to try to help you. He wouldn’t name you, to keep your privacy, but unfortunately he’s a terrible liar so it’s pretty obvious.

Since he’s built like a brick house, he offers to be your punching bag if you ever need it, he swears he wouldn’t feel a thing. It’s tough to stay mad long enough to take him up on that offer but it’s appreciated.

Asmodeus

I think Asmo has the best understanding of wrath having heard it from the source directly.

Satan has monologued Asmo’s ear off about everything from how he felt to how he dealt with it.

When Asmo sees the same anger in you, he immediately jumps in, just as he would with Satan.

The only thing that won’t work on you would be Asmo’s charmspeak. Since you aren’t affected by his Avatar, he can’t sweet talk you down off fury’s ledge.

He knows other tricks, breathing exercises or distractions work just as well and he’s noticed you’re much quicker to recover than Satan would be.

He worries for the times you’re not with him, would you use his tricks or would you let the anger fester and bubble up under the surface?

The easiest solution in his eyes is to always be with you, no need to worry if he’s always available to you.

Satan

Satan has felt the familiar pangs of wrath coming from you previously and he gets it. Good lord does he get it. He’s never related to someone more than you, once you’ve disclosed this about yourself.

He nods when you describe it as the anger starting out slow and red-hot like lava creeping through every vein in your body. 

Then it’s all consuming and all you can feel is the fire of wrath. In those moments you recognize the need to punch, kick, or scream; something to relieve the fury.

But before you can act on it, the rage is gone. You’re left charred and feeling empty inside; the fire having consumed your being and left nothing alive.

He can share various things he’s learned to keep his own wrath at bay but it doesn’t always help so he’s promised to be your outlet when you need to let go.

He’d rather you explode at him than finding you in the aftermath of being burnt out. It breaks his heart when you give him that look that both says “you’re too late” and “I’m sorry, I tried.”

Satan would never be disappointed in you, so he reassures you all the time, “There’s no need to bottle up your emotions around me.”

Leviathan

We’ve all seen him get angry in game, mostly exploding at Mammon.

In those situations, when he’s comfortable, he’s very expressive, but more than the other brothers, he understands bottling up undesirable emotions that you don’t want to deal with or have others deal with.

He knows firsthand how that doesn’t help, if anything it escalates the issue in your own head. It’s like an echochamber of all your worst thoughts being amplified.

Levi offers to always listen to you rant, wherever, whenever. It’s the middle of the night and Beel’s destroying the kitchen on the other side of your bedroom wall for the 6th night that week? Give him a call. Asmo dragged you out to a club and you’re tired and want to come home? Call him, he’ll come get you. Mammon sold one of your personal items? He will gladly add it to the list of things he pesters Mammon about.

Just as you have listened to his rants on video games, anime or manga, he’ll be there to listen to your rants if it helps your anger.

He doesn’t know specific techniques to help but he can offer examples of what they did in the anime, “My Roommate Leaves Dirty Dishes in the Sink for so Long That They Get Moldy and Now I Need to Use One of the Moldy Dishes. Is It Passive Aggressive to Ask Them to do the Dishes or is it Just Aggressive?”

If you don’t want to talk about it then he’ll offer to take out your anger on some video game baddies as a substitute.

Mammon

Not gonna lie, he might be the cause of your anger sometimes.

When he’s not going through your things, he’s pretty clingy and a bit pushy. He doesn’t always say what he means and talks himself in circles when he doesn’t want to admit to something. It can be annoying if your personality doesn’t mesh well with that.

Mammon is, however, very quick to pick up on the shift in your demeanor. 

He’ll roll back his last action whatever it may be. If he threw an arm around your shoulder, he’d remove it. If he made a joke, he takes it back and apologizes. 

If it wasn’t something he did then he jumps to your defense, often putting himself in between you and the offending party.

He usually gives Satan space but Mammon wants to help you if he can.

I could see him being very sweet to you after an episode, trying to soothe the edges that came undone, even if only for a second.

Lucifer

King of swallowing emotions, let me tell you.

If you wanted advice on how to not bottle your emotions, this is not the demon for you.

He does understand the rage though. How it burns and devastates anything that comes in contact and how it can take on a life of its own……

Lord Diavolo help you if this is ever directed at Lucifer but if it’s not then he will happily offer his services to smite the cause.

Lucifer may worry that your wrath feeds off of and develops with Satan’s. The worst possibility being you start feeling resentment towards him just like the fourth born.

He will learn your triggers and will make an effort to avoid them if possible to keep your anger to a minimum.

Lucifer will always be available to talk to and would be comforting and accommodating behind closed doors.

[biisexualemma]

unrequited pt.2. peter parker

word count: 3.6k

warnings: anxiety, panic attack? i guess kind of

requested: yea a few people asked for this lol

plot: you haven’t seen peter for weeks and start to worry about him

a/n: i finished re-writing this late last night and i’ll be honest with you i haven’t checked it over so sorry if there are any mistakes but i’m tired sis goodnight! lmk if you like this! pls comment / share!

pt.1 / marvel masterlist / multi-fandom masterlist

"ned... you're so wrong for so many reasons," m.j.'s expression was flat, her eyes rolling before she continued to fight ned on who was really the strongest avenger. you were supposed to be working on a group project for your history class but somehow the topic of the avengers came up and the conversation derailed. ned was making a, somewhat, compelling case for the hulk but m.j. was clearly winning with her argument for wanda.

"nobody even knows the full extent of her powers... and the hulk? what? he's gonna smash some more?"

you sat quietly, chin in the palm of your hand, listening in and out of the conversation. you didn't really feel much like contributing. you would occasionally chime in to support m.j. but mostly you just heard the noise of their bickering and let it happen.

you didn't want to be that person, but your mind was (much to your frustration) completely consumed with thoughts of peter. and at the worst time, you had so many tests coming up, and essay deadlines were also creeping up on you. usually you were on top of this stuff, but your mind was preoccupied almost all the time.

because of peter, who was no where to be seen. in the past few weeks he had stopped showing up to school all together. ned said it was something to do with tony stark but you had a feeling it was more than that. you didn't know how to explain it.

you hadn't spoken to him in a long time now, and you didn't exactly leave things on good terms. it was the longest you'd gone without talking since peter called you a poopy head in the third grade.

you just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. especially since you had no idea what he was getting up to, peter was known to get himself into some messes when he was left to his own devices. and you just knew ned was lying to cover for his best friend but that only made you feel even more out of the loop.

everything felt a bit off without peter around, like something was missing. that, on top of the guilt and worry you were feeling, was turning your head to mush. last time you'd spoken to peter, he was erratic and wounded and desperate. something bad had to have happened for him to be gone this long.

the bell rang, signalling the end of your last period for the day, and the rest of the week seeing as it was a friday. you snapped out of your daze, jolting as your eyes focused back on your surroundings.

"what time did you say again, y/n?" your eyes drifted to m.j. who was collecting her notes on her desk, her eyes meetings yours, waiting for your answer. a crease formed between your eyebrows, you hadn't heard a word of the conversation before right now. m.j. seemed to realise this, rolling her eyes at you with a playful smile. you did this a lot lately, she was getting used to it. "homecoming? what time did you want to meet tonight?"

"oh," you nodded, still sitting at your desk as your classmates hustled around you. "right, homecoming— i— uh—"

"tell me you're still coming," ned interrupted, his eyes wide suddenly, clearly desperate that your answer was anything but no. "c'mon we've had this planned for ages!"

"no— yeah— of course i am," you nodded quickly to reassure him. "yeah— sorry— i just spaced. is seven good for you guys?"

they hummed in response, nodding.

you packed up your books, shoving them into your bag, still in a slight haze with all these thoughts running through your head about peter. you couldn't think about homecoming, it seemed trivial now compared to the worst case scenarios running through your mind. maybe you could try to call peter again? you thought to yourself as you quickly left the classroom, forgetting about m.j. and ned and homecoming, your muscle memory alone leading you to your locker.

you swapped out your books from your bag with the ones you needed to study from for your biology test next week. after slamming the locker door shut, a familiar face was met with yours.

"jesus," you muttered as he stood inches away from your face, your heart racing from the shock. clutching your books to your chest, after nearly having a heart attack, you let out a loud sigh and furrowed your eyebrows. "peter? where the hell have you been?" you regained some of your composure, enough to find some anger in you towards him. he was the last person you were expecting to see today.

"you're ok?" his usual soft brown eyes looked sunken and tired, his hair was scruffier than usual and his lips chapped as they hung open, his eyes scanning over you.

your mouth hung open to speak but he just shook his head as if answering his own question. he gripped your forearm, urging you to walk with him. you dug in your heels, yanking your arm back, wanting him to slow down and explain before you went anywhere with him. "will you just walk," he muttered sharply when you tried to resist him. "please," he softened quickly, his eyes meeting yours.

you frowned, uncomfortably shifting the stack of books in your arms as peter pulled you along behind him hastily. you watched his eyes shifting about the hallway as students weaved around the two of you, his grip not loosening for a second. he was definitely up to something stupid and dangerous that he absolutely should not be involved in.

he'd dragged you all the way out into the parking lot, pulling you aside and away from the crowd of people.

"what's going on? why do you look like— i mean no offence but— you look like crap," you couldn't help but show some level of concern. no matter how complicated your feelings were for him at the moment, he was still your best friend, and he looked like hell. you couldn't stop yourself from staring at him.

"i need you to just— stop talking and listen to me," the look in his eyes made your heart beat a bit faster, your eyes darting between his trying to understand his urgency. "you're not safe—"

"no— i'm fine—" you were never very good at doing what you were told. you glanced down at yourself, perfectly safe and standing in front of him. "see?—"

"no— no you're not," he gulped, his eyes darting away from yours for a split second. "i'm taking you home and you have to stay there. ok? please."

his voice was horse, cracking when he spoke. you didn't understand any of it. peter was the friendly neighbourhood spider-man, what the hell had he gotten himself into that had him this worked up?

you tilted your head slightly, he couldn't think you'd blindly do whatever he said. you needed some answers. "pete," you mumbled, shaking your head with a faint frown. "can't you just tell me what's going on? you're kinda' scaring me."

"i screwed up," his face contorted, his eyes screwing shut for a second and his nose scrunching. you were glued to him, following his mixed expressions trying to understand what was going through his head. he took a deep, shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. "and i know you— you hate me and the last thing you wanna' do is listen to me but i need you to do this for me."

"alright," you said after a moments hesitation. you just wanted him to relax. all your pent up anger and hurt that you'd felt over peter had dissipated quite quickly. you were too occupied with trying to ease some of his stress, and if that meant becoming a homebody for a few days, you would do it. "alright— don't worry. i've been putting off my english essay for a week now anyway, it's about time i cracked down on it."

you tried to ease the tension, act like he wasn't asking much of you. he let out a heavy sigh, looking over at you with those brown eyes. "it's homecoming tonight, i know w—"

"is it?" you feigned forgetfulness, not wanting to make him feel any worse than he already did. you shrugged. "i was never one for socialising anyway."

peter knew you better than that. he knew what he was asking you to give up. "i'm sorry," he took a step closer to you, his hands hovering in front of you, unsure that you wanted him to touch you. "i'm sorry you got dragged into this."

your eyes lingered on his hands before you pulled back up to his stare. you pursed your lips and shrugged. "i'd feel better about it if i knew what i was getting dragged into," you pulled away from your conversation for a second to slip your books into your bag. "walk me home and you can explain everything."

and he did. he told you all about the vulture, the weapons, what really happened during the decathlon trip. all of it. right up to when the vulture figured out his identity— which lead to him finding out about aunt may, about his friends, and about you. he told you about how he'd spent the past few weeks figuring out where the vulture's next major deal was being held, how he'd messed up so bad and how mr stark had taken his suit.

by the time he'd finished, your mouth hung open slightly. you didn't know how he'd been dealing with all of this by himself. spider-man helped old ladies cross the street and returned stolen bicycles, he didn't fight men in bird costumes to stop illegal sales of dangerous advanced weapon tech.

"peter, this sounds pretty dangerous," you spoke up after he told you about his plan to intercept the vulture's airplane heist. "don't you think you should just call happy? or tony? this sounds like iron man territory."

"i can't do that," he sighed. "besides, i already tried happy— he's not taking my calls right now. something about a time out."

you let out a heavy sigh, having taken everything in that he'd told you. you had reached your door, peter standing behind you with his hands stuffed in his pockets. you motioned for him to come in but he hesitated, opening his mouth to decline. "c'mon," you grabbed his arm and tugged gently. "this heist isn't happening 'til late tonight. you can keep me company 'til then."

"maybe, get some rest, too, you really do look like hell," he let you pull him inside, following behind you. he ignored the second dig you had now made about his appearance.

"may must've been pretty mad when she found out you'd been skipping school?" you collapsed onto your bed, crossing your legs over and watching peter perch himself on the edge of your bed. he leaned forward, his hand running over his face with sheer exhaustion.

"you have no idea," he groaned, holding his head up with the palm of his hand now. "i'm pretty much grounded for the rest of the year. and i have to send her a pic' of me sitting in every one of my classes from now on," you nodded, pursing your lips because that sounded about right. "but mainly she was worried."

"well, she wasn't the only one," he glanced at you over his shoulder, his eyes lingering there for a while. you breathed through your nose, looking away from him and down to your hands to give yourself a moment. you'd forgotten how difficult it was to have him look at you like that. "you just took off with no word, peter."

he turned his gaze away from you, focusing on the wall in front of him, his eyes glossy. for weeks that last conversation with you had been sitting at the back of his mind. he knew he'd handled everything in the worse possible way. he tried to protect you, hurt you by doing so, and then had everything he tried to protect you from blow up in his face anyway.

"i haven't been able to think clearly for weeks," you gulped, scared to meet his gaze again, in fear that you might lose your confidence. "i missed you. and i was worried out of my mind about you."

"y/n—" his voice was quiet.

"and i know i was the one who told you to leave. but i was hurt and sad. i'd convinced myself that you felt the same way, and when you—" you closed your eyes for a second, feeling him watching you. you hadn't been able to say any of this out loud for weeks and now it was just spilling out of you. "anyway— i shouldn't've punished you for that. they are my feelings i need to get over. it wasn't your fault and i'm sorry i made it seem like it was."

he shook his head faintly, sniffling slightly, catching your attention. "i screwed up," he shook his head a little harder, pushing himself up off your bed, his back turned to you. "i screwed up so bad," he ran his hand over his face, his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose. your eyebrows knitted. "it wasn't supposed to turn out like this."

"don't," you shook your head, willing him to stop. "it's not your fault. i shouldn't have—"

he cut you off, turning to face you as he did. "i'm in love with you," his mouth hung open slightly, his eyes now stinging red. "i was in love with you then, and i'm in love with you now. i think i always will be."

your eyebrows unknitted, your mouth opening to speak but nothing came out. you watched his hand tug on the ends of his curls, his eyes locked onto you the entire time, trying to read your expression.

"i was trying to protect you and it went completely wrong—" his breathing was erratic. "i thought you'd be safer if i distanced myself—" the look on his face was breaking your heart. he knew how stupid it all sounded now he explained it out loud. "i screwed everything up— and now you're in more danger than ever— because of me."

"you— you—" your brain was trying to keep up. you shook your head. you had spent the past month telling yourself that everything you thought he'd felt for you wasn't real, that you'd over thought everything he'd ever done for you. you'd been telling yourself for a month to move on. "you didn't screw up, pete. i know you. whatever you did, you did for the right reasons."

the lump in your throat was growing as you tried to keep some kind of composure. it wouldn't do either of you any good to get upset with him when he was worked up like this. he didn't need to be told he'd made a mistake, he was already painfully aware.

"you don't— you—but— i—" he was hyperventilating, completely vulnerable as he fell apart in front of you.

"pete," you mumbled carefully, climbing over to where he was stood, hand in his hair and he pulled on the loose curls, his eyes wide with anxiety and stress. you moved your hands to his, pulling them down to his side and giving them a small squeeze. "calm down," you cooed. "everything will be ok."

you trailed your hands up to his shoulders, giving them a soft squeeze before pulling him into a tight hug. you wrapped your arms 'round his shoulders, one hand moving to the back of his head, running your fingers through his hair. his head ducked, burying into your neck, his arms wrapping around your waist in a desperate grip. his breathing was heavy at first, uneven and jagged as he clung onto you. your heart was beating out of your chest, you were sure he could hear it, but you held onto him as tight as you could, pressing your whole body against his trying to offer him as much comfort as you could.

after a while of standing around, holding each other, peter's breathing began to grow softer and slower. he began to notice the sweet scent lingering on your skin. his lips innocently hovering over the curve of your neck, breath fanning against your skin. you could feel goosebumps growing on your skin, the hair of your arms standing on end.

"better?" you mumbled softly. he gave you a faint nod in response, his lips leaving your skin as he pulled himself back from you. your hand slipped from in between his curls and down to the neck, your thumb brushing over his skin as he looked straight into your eyes. you gulped, eyelids fluttering.

he was a state to behold. his nose was pink, under eyes wet, your eyes trailed down to where his lips parted. he hiccuped a breath. you tried to push away the impulse to kiss him because he was clearly vulnerable. you didn't want him to later regret anything. "thanks," he mumbled breathlessly. "i don't know what happened there."

you pouted your lips, about to reply when peters eyes fluttered down your face, catching you off guard. his eyes lingered and you noticed his head tilting down and nearer, his lips catching onto yours before you could register what was happening. it was soft, gentle and didn't last longer than a couple seconds before you had to force yourself to pull away.

"peter— you're overwhelmed right now so maybe we shouldn—"

your whispers against his lips where cut short, he pressed his lips to yours again. unable to resist now he'd had a taste. his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you back flush against his chest. you swallowed a gasp, feeling his full weight behind the second kiss. his lips pushed against yours a little more desperately this time, you fell back a step, peter's arms where the only thing keeping you upright at this point.

both your hands where either side of his neck, trailing up into his hair where you pulled softly at the roots of his messy curls. he let out a soft moan against your lips, and you stumbled back once more, your thighs hitting your bed.

your hands quickly slipped down to his chest as you gently pried him off you. your head was spinning a little, his lips were plump and pink and the way he looked at you, with pure love and obsession, made you want to kiss him again and again.

"did you mean it?" you muttered breathlessly.

his eyes trailed back up from your lips, his gaze locking with yours again. he noticed the vulnerability and fear in your eyes now that he was paying you his full attention. he felt a wave of guilt hit him, knowing he was the one that put that look there.

"yeah," he hummed. "i did," he said with his chest. "i do. always will," he was breathless.

"you're not just saying it 'cause you've missed me?"

he shook his head quickly, shutting down any traces of doubt in your mind. "i have been in love with you since that summer we took that trip to coney island when you threw up after you ate too much cotton candy."

your scrunched up your nose at the memory. "gross."

he shrugged. "i don't know what to tell you. that's just when i knew."

your lips twitched into a small smile. "you should probably get some rest," you diverted the topic, trying hard not to kiss him again. he looked so tired. he had poured out months worth of anxiety and stress all in the past ten minutes. "you can't chase bad guys if you're half asleep."

he wore a half-hearted smile, his mind clearly flickering back to the task he had to take on later tonight.

"you can crash here if you want," you motioned to your bed.

"y'sure? i don't wanna get you in trouble."

"mom's working late, so you're good. plus she loves you, pete," your hands slipped down to his, giving them a quick squeeze of reassurance.

"sure she'll still love me when she finds out about us?" he quirked an eyebrow, the small smile on his lips was sloped and tired.

"m'sure," you hummed, biting back your growing smile at the word us. you moved him to sit on your bed again, his hands lazily holding yours. his eyelids fluttered as he looked up at you, a small crease forming between his eyebrows again. you could tell his mind was wandering again. "lie down, you need to rest or you're no good to anyone."

he nodded hesitantly and followed your instruction. "i'll sleep better with you next to me."

his voice was soft after you'd turned your back on him to leave him to rest. you rolled your eyes faintly, smile tugging your lips again. "is that right?"

he hummed, his arms outstretched, waiting for you to fall into them. you dragged your feet back over to him, biting the inside of your cheek, the corner of your lip twitching upwards. "there's a scientific reason behind it but my brain's too sleepy to think right now, so you'll have to take my word for it."

his words slurred together, his eyes rolling slightly the longer he forced them open. you just nodded. "alright, spidey, just this once."

"hm," he hummed as you climbed in next to him, his arms wrapping around you and immediately pulling you against his chest. "thanks," he muttered, his lips pressed against the top of your head. "don't know what i'd do without you."

[candychronicles]

heavens // t. keigo/hawks

A/N: my take on the roommates theme for the bnharem collab! honestly didn’t know where i was going with this one and it seems a bit random/rushed so i apologize in advance but hope you enjoy nonetheless! 

CHARACTER PAIRING: Takami Keigo/Hawks x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,491

WARNINGS: oral (f!receiving), some language 

SYNOPSIS: despite his growing popularity, you two remained steady roommates, which confused you to no end. what was his true motive in keeping you around? 

And they were roommates! Click here to read more!

Hawks was an interesting character to say the least. when you first moved in, you weren’t all too sure what to expect. he was, at the time, a fairly popular hero, but nowhere near the status he held today. he was charming, suave, friendly and it seemed genuine at the time. things went downhill quick though as his popularity rose and along with it, his annoying, god-like tendencies. 

what you didn’t understand was why he kept you around after all this time. you didn’t necessarily need to live with him still, but as he got more popular and therefore gained more money, the areas he lived in grew nicer and nicer until you were on a gorgeous top floor penthouse with a stunning view, all for the price of your original, dingy apartment. what you could afford on your own would be nowhere near the luxury that he was offering. that’s why you stayed, but you weren’t sure why he offered to let you continue to stay with him after all this time.

sure, you were friends, got along for the most part and when you didn’t, stayed out of each other’s hair, but he didn’t owe you anything and you certainly didn’t want to feel like you were in his debt. yet something attracted the two of you together continuously despite it all. 

what you didn’t know was that Hawks very much enjoyed having you around. you’d deny it until you were blue in the face but he heard one too many times you touching yourself in your bedroom, muffled moans matching those of the girl or guy he was fucking that night. he often did his best to give you a show, cursing, spitting, hitting, anything he could do to rile you up, get you to hear the lewd sounds coming from the apartment. you acted like you didn’t know what he was talking about, scoffed when he invited you to join him or give you his own private show and acted like you didn’t know he was doing that all on purpose just to tease you. 

truth be told, you pushed all those thoughts aside when it came to him. he was attractive, very much so, and also very unattainable, in your eyes anyways. his god-like complex was annoying at times but also very warranted. he was popular with everyone he met-children, women, men, the elderly, hell, you don’t think he ever met a dog that didn’t like him. he was strong, powerful, commanding of the quirk he weld so well. his personality was nothing short of smooth, like honey over ice cream melting on your tongue. you felt so incredibly drawn to him that your brain absolutely shut out any idea of it, giving yourself no hope that he would ever reciprocate the pure feelings of desire you felt towards him. after awhile, your convincing became reality and you began to question everything, desperate to detach yourself from his enigmatic ways. 

hey sweetheart, will be gone for most of the day. left some money for groceries and a little extra for whatever you want. don’t miss me too much

-H

you scoffed at the note pasted to your refrigerator, neon pink glaring at you in the morning sun trickling from the balcony window. he had been gone a lot lately, sometimes bringing home people at night, mostly crashing straight on the couch before he had even gotten a chance to change clothes. you acted like you didn’t miss him, miss his presence, the lingering touches that you swore were just him being an ass and making fun of you, but in reality, you missed the hell out of him. the domesticity that he showed when it was just you two vulnerable late at night, tired from a hard day of work, it made you realize that he wasn’t a god all the time after all.

that thought didn’t change your mind about his attainability, however. in fact, it only seemed to spur your ideals on more, convincing yourself that a man who could be so vulnerable and yet so strong was one who deserved more than what you could give. it would never be you and you were content with that fact, or so you thought.

your day was long and grueling, working patrols and small missions as a pro hero. you were likeable enough but when it came down to it, you didn’t care to be popular, didn’t care to make a ton of money or be interviewed by dozens of people a month. you just wanted to do your job and keep people safe and at the end of the day, that was what you accomplished. 

it was nearly midnight when you returned home, the elevator dinging closed behind you as you walked into the penthouse. the lights were still off, everything in place from this morning, which meant that Hawks had not arrived home yet despite him being gone for nearly the whole day. anger bubbled up underneath your skin. you knew he didn’t owe you anything, you knew you were nothing more than roommates, but sometimes feeling so isolated and alone in this big space with no one to talk to or do anything with left you antsy and annoyed. in simple frustration and retaliation, you locked the balcony window, forcing him to come up the elevator like a dignified man, bringing his nightly fuck in through the lobby instead of sneaking them inside like he often did.

it was nearly six am before you were woken up to a loud thud, the door smacking against the wall. you sighed, allowing yourself to calm down before you tried to go back to bed, but before you got a chance, a knock sounded at your door.

“what?” you asked irately, not in the mood to entertain him and his antics.

“why’d you lock the balcony window?” he asked simply, arms crossed. 

as you sat up to answer, you noticed his calm demeanor not so calm anymore. his chest was flaring up and down, body wobbly, and he reeked of alcohol.

“so much for a calm night,” you muttered. “i locked the door because i didn’t want to hear you fucking any of your whores while i was trying to sleep.”

“oh baby, you know you like it, like the sounds i make, the words i say. all you have to do is admit it and i can be all yours.”

“you wish bird brain,” you spat back at him, done with the conversation as you shimmied yourself back into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin and promptly shutting your eyes, ignoring the feeling of his stare burning into your brain.

“i do wish. i wish it were you i was fucking. i’ve wished that since the day i met you, all excited and doe eyed, ready to take on the world and all of its challenges. you never let my fame get in the way, never treat me any differently. you’ve been by my side throughout it all and yet you won’t let me get too close to you. why is that? afraid i’ll break your heart little one?”

you sat back up again quickly only to realize that he had moved to the foot of your bed. he sat down, taking off his boots and shucking them on the floor only to crawl practically into your lap, snuggling into your thigh.

“i won’t break your heart. i’ll only hurt you if you want me to, which i know you do, at least a little bit. but i’d n-never hurt your heart. you’re too precious for that princess, so sweet to me, so so angelic. and yet i can hear your moans through the walls, practically feel you arching off your bed as you chased your high, desperate for a release, wishing it were me who was touching you instead of your own fingers. i can do that you know. all you need to do is say the magic word and i’m yours. no more fucking other people, just me and you. i’ll spoil you rotten, anything you could possibly want and it’s all yours. you’d never have to worry about a thing again, yeah? what do you say?”

your heart hitched into your throat at his babbling confession. surely he wasn’t serious, right? it must’ve been the alcohol talking. you knew that if you said yes he was just going to tease you and tell you that he was joking and never wanted to see you ever again. you were just sure of it… but, in the off case that he was being serious… you couldn’t mess this up.

“yeah, okay,” you replied, voice hitching in your throat as you agreed with him.

you waited a few seconds for the harsh sting of a reply but nothing came. you cast your eyes down to see Hawks passed out, clinging to you as if his life depended on it. sighing, you flopped back down onto the bed, heels of your palms pressed into your eye sockets, brain full of thoughts as you tried to sift through your feelings. eventually you just gave up and passed out against the cool sheets of your bed, too tired to deal with the emotional turmoil you were putting yourself through.

when you woke up the next morning, Hawks was no longer against your thigh but rather plastered to your side. you weren’t sure how you ended up being spooned by the lanky man but it wasn’t necessarily the first time you had cuddled. your brain began working against you almost immediately, convincing yourself that the previous night's events were nothing more than a drunken spur from your roommate and that he did not, in fact, want to be with you.

with those thoughts in mind, you began to wiggle your way out of his grasp, nearly making it out of bed before you felt a hand shoot out and grab you by the wrist. 

“where are you going beautiful? sleep with a man and then ditch him before he even gets a chance to wake up? how heartless of you.”

“oh shut up, you know damn well that we did not sleep together. in fact, you came in here at six in the morning just to simply annoy the hell out of me. now that’s what i call heartless.”

“we didn’t sleep together but we could’ve,” he teased, fingers rubbing gently up and down your arm as he attempted to coax you back into bed, but your mind worked on overdrive, simply not believing that he was interested in you at all. 

“why do you always like to make fun of me, huh? does it give you some sick satisfaction to dangle hope like that in front of my face only to snatch it away from me if i ever say yes?” you spat, getting sick and tired of his games.

“princess, i’m not lying to you, nor am i making fun of you. i would never offer something like this if i wasn’t serious. i want to take care of you in any way i can-emotionally, sexually, financially, anything you need, i want to give it to you. i was trying to drop you hints, give you the space to come to your own conclusions but it seems that i miscalculated how that pretty little brain of yours works. instead of believing that i was seriously flirting with you, it seems as if you thought that i was making fun of you instead. how funny that the mind works like that sometimes. i must admit i was a fool for not seeing it sooner, but now it makes so much sense.”

“what are you rambling on about?” you asked, furrowing your brow in confusion as you tried to make sense of the fact that he was not only dead serious about wanting to be with you but also psychoanalyzing your thoughts at the same time.

“how you would always get mad when i brought people home but never said anything to me, how you always scoffed at my sweet words, would never take money from me despite me leaving it very clearly for you, never getting too close to me despite living together for years. i’m honestly dumbfounded that i didn’t realize sooner. you’ve been in love with me for a long time too, huh? except, unlike me, you truly never thought you had a chance.”

“u-uh, yeah, i-i just, Keigo, what are you really trying to say to me?”

“sweetheart, be mine, wholly and fully in every way possible. let me take care of you like i’ve always wanted, always tried to do. this isn’t some joke or elaborate ruse, i’m not lying to you or trying to hurt you in any way. i really, truly want to be with you.”

you exhaled heavily, not realizing you had been holding your breath the whole time, searching his eyes for any sign of a lie, not finding anything except sincerity and hope.

“okay,” you relented, nodding your head. “yeah, if you say you’re not lying to me, i’ll trust you. i just, i don’t know. i never realized that you actually liked me back. i never would’ve guessed it in a million years. never would’ve thought i would hear any words like that come out of your mouth let alone so sincerely.”

you looked down, twiddling your thumbs as you contemplated the situation once more, but before you could let your brain get the best of you, Hawks placed his slender fingers underneath your chin, lifting your face up so that you could peer at him. he leaned forward slowly, foreheads pressed together.

“is it okay if i kiss you?”

you nodded your head, squeaking out a quiet “yes” before surging forward to place your lips on his, desperate to feel him, desperate to quiet the negative voices in your head and surround yourself with him instead.

he matched your pace eagerly, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck to pull you forward even more, his own desperation leaking through the kiss. he was so enamored with you, the way you smelt, your mussy hair, the sparkle in your eyes, the feeling of your soft lips against his own. it was almost too much to handle. he hadn’t been with anyone in awhile, preferring to wait it out and confront you when he had the courage to do so, and he felt himself getting more and more antsy as time went on. he wanted to respect you, treat you with the dignity and honor that you deserved, but in that moment, all he wanted to do was ruin you and mark you as his own.

“baby, you need to tell me if i go to far, yeah? i just want to make you feel good, never uncomfortable. let me take care of you like you deserve,” he panted, adjusting himself closer to you.

“i trust you Keigo. i’m yours.”

he groaned at the sound of you, of how pathetic and weak you were towards him, how you trusted to be vulnerable around him, trusted that he would take care of you. he had never wanted to ruin anything so badly in his life and he was going to do his best to make sure you knew you were his.

the kisses turned more sensual, tongues dipping in and around each other, exploring one another for what felt like the first time ever. for you, it had been awhile, telling yourself that you were too busy to be sexual with someone else when in actuality you had been craving a certain blonde all along. for him, this was something entirely new and special. he never got the chance to be truly intimate with anyone, let his guard down, want to please his partner more than himself, but you were different, special in the fact that you loved him for him and no other reason than that. 

“please Keigo, i need more,” you whined, fisting at his shirt as you tried to pull him impossibly closer to your body. 

“anything for you princess.” 

his shirt came off first, a delicate process he mastered years ago. he reached for your own shirt, fingers playing at the hem as he once again asked permission. you replied by pulling it off yourself, exposing your breasts to him. he immediately latched onto your left nipple, hand coming up to pinch the right, gently coaxing you to lay back down on the bed as he followed, hands and mouth never leaving your body. he laved you with his tongue, leaving a trail of cool moisture in its wake, sucking and biting at every soft spot he could think of, wanting so hard to hear you moan. 

“that’s it baby, don’t be shy. i want to hear you moan, say my name.”

you responded with a groan as his hand came to rest on your clothed cunt, feeling the wetness through your shorts. he smirked at the realization that you did truly want him as bad as he wanted you and the thought had his cock straining in his pants. it wasn’t long before he had freed himself from his confines, watching the way your eyes drank up the sight of him through the filtered light. 

gently, you reached out your hand to paw at his cock, marveling in the way it twitched at the slightest touch. you were enamored by him, all of him. before you kneeled a greek god willing to worship you, a mere mortal. you didn’t know what you did to deserve this but you figured you’d spend the rest of your life thanking the heavens.

“don’t worry about me right now, yeah? let’s just focus on making you feel good,” he cooed, reaching down to gently tug at your shorts.

you lifted your hips up without question, allowing him to pull the fabric down your body, your underwear coming along with it. he greedily watched as your slick stringed against the fabric before snapping. he was amazed that he could make someone so wet just by kissing them and was more than curious to see how soaked he could get you by the end of the morning.

he slowly dropped himself down to the edge of the bed, positioning himself between your thighs. kisses were placed to the soft flesh on your legs, pinching and nipping along the way, relishing in the squeals and moans you let out of your mouth. experimentally, he licked up your slit, watching how your breath hitched and your hands grasped the sheets below you, desperate to hold onto something. he licked again, this time using one of his hands to hold you down and the other to come and open you up. you responded immediately, back attempting to arch off the bed at the already intense situation.

he started up a steady pace, watching each little movement, breath, moan, grasp of the blanket to analyze what you liked best. he was enraptured with you, everything about you. you were so strong, fighting crime like it was nothing, doing anything you could to keep citizens safe and yet here you were, putty in his hands, baring your heart for him, trusting that he would take care of you.

the pressure inside of you slowly built up. it was like an intense heat you had never felt before, white hot and pulsing inside your abdomen. you clutched the sheets, your thighs, his hair, anything you could to purchase yourself to this earth as he brought you closer and closer to the promised land. finally, with one final lick, you came, crying out his name in a symphony of praises, singing to the high heavens.

he watched as you came done around his tongue, how your breath labored, eyes screwed shut, face flush and face twisted in pure pleasure. it was a magnificent sight to see, you so relaxed and carefree, enjoying every feeling that flooded over you.

when you had finally come down and your breathing began to even out, you opened your eyes to find Keigo still nestled between your thighs, head resting gently on you.

“how are you feeling love?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your hip.

“like i just left this world and came back,” you answered truthfully, laughing at his proud expression.

“are you okay? is there anything i can get for you?”

“no, Keigo, i think i’m okay,” you answered truthfully.

for the first time in a long time, you felt at ease. your body was relaxed, your mind foggy from the pleasure and you had the man you loved staring up at you like you were the only thing in this world that mattered.

“good, i’m glad you’re okay because we’re not done here. lay back down baby bird, let me make you feel good.”

[themanip]

late nights

SUMMARY — you and bang chan are both equally as stressed out. your solution?  sleep with each other. boom, problem solved.

PAIRING — bang chan  x  reader  WARNINGS — mentions of stress and mental health problems, unprotected sex, soft!dom chan, mentions of kinks, really soft, really cute smut basically, crying (not sexually), sad thoughts, angry and frustrated emotions, angsty GENRE — heavy angst, fwb, coming-of-age kind of, smut, romance, porn with a hint of plot WORD COUNT — 4.9k, i got carried away my bad

“How do you deal with stress?”

Chan’s question wasn’t ill intentioned by any means, and as you both sat in his studio, you pondered on whether or not to actually answer truthfully. “I mean, you’re the leader of two more trainees than I was, and navigating as a girlgroup is much more difficult than boygroups,”

“Do you want the honest answer, or the more appropriate answer?” you crossed your legs, Chan’s couch feeling quite comfortable. He stared down at you for a moment, the height of his chair offering him that leverage.

The room was quiet, the lights were dim, and the entire environment was soothing. “Well, honest, of course. No point in me asking if it’s a fib, no?”

You nodded, blowing a puff of air out of your nose thoughtfully. “Truthfully, I use sex. It allows me to physically and mentally drain myself, and I sleep really well after getting fucked. It allows me to refresh the next morning, and my stress, at least physically, is diminished.”

You didn’t look at him until you finished talking, and his face was blank. Once you two locked eyes, he sputtered out, “Oh, I—”

“This is why I offered two options, Chan,” you laughed, and at the lighten of atmosphere he giggled a bit too. “I didn’t mean to, y’know,” he stopped, and you nodded lightly. “I get it, but as of now I don’t do it much anymore. I usually just let out my anger or stress during dance routines or working out but it doesn’t work the same, and sometimes I deliver moves too harshly while dancing.”

“Why not?”

You were unsure what he was referring to, and you crinkled your eyebrows. “How come you don’t do it anymore if nothing else helps the same way?” he asked softly, his eyes swimming with genuine concern. 

“I’m a lot more conservative with my body, I just have to trust someone. It’s hard to get to know a guy without them immediately wanting to jump into a relationship. You can’t really do that in what we do, and the second I start to trust a guy things go haywire. I just really have to have a good friendship to have sex, I guess.”

The entirety of the conversation, Chan’s cheeks were turning peach. Even in the dark, dim light, you could see it. “I understand, it’s a very tangible thing. Just giving yourself to someone like that without a basic relationship, platonic or not, is important depending on how you view relationships,”

You nodded in response, and a silence fell over you two. There wasn’t much to be said, but for some reason you decided to blurt out. “If you don’t know how to deplete stress, I suggest it. Just the no strings attached part, because otherwise things get messy and stress becomes inevitable. Just try it sometime, Chan. If you don’t like it, then consider it a learning experience,” you shrugged, and Chan pursed his lips.

“I mean it doesn’t sound like a bad idea, per se. I just don’t know how I’ll casually ask someone to have sex. Most women just run off the moment I mention it, and who knows if they’re even into the same things I am? There’s just so many things to be unsure of.” His chin was now laying on his thumb, and his pointer finger was laying above his top lip. He was deep in thought. 

You stood up, which cause Chan to unexpectedly flinch, and he watched you with careful eyes. “Chris, if you ever feel like you need a de-stresser, you know where to find me. Nothing will be weird unless you make it weird. Or we can always just talk, either way, I’m here. I have to go before Sumna comes and drags me out of here, but seriously. Whatever you need, no strings attached. Nothing leaves this room,” you mentioned softly, and his eyes widened at his English name. It’s rather rare you used it, so he pondered the specific use of it in this scenario.

“Thank you,” he muttered simply, and he watched you as you walked out. Was she being serious?

Chan and you had not talked in a few days. Whether it was a crazy schedule, you embarassing yourself, or him not knowing how to approach the situation, you didn’t know. All you did know was that you missed your friend. 

You and your bandmates had a hectic schedule today, and as the leader, you’d had to sit in on a meeting with your manager and JYP’s public relations manager. Apparently, Dispatch had caught one of your members, Lanzi, out doing something with another k-pop idol. Dispatch had only obtained two pictures of it, but it was clearly legible on who they were, and what they were doing.

The cost to get those pictures thrown out was much more than JYP would have liked, so she had to sit and get chewed out. Instead of being angry at Lanzi, she became more angry at herself. She had talked to them about things of this sort, but clearly not well enough. It was her job as leader, and she failed doing so. 

After a three hour long meeting, you were absolutely exhausted, mentally at least. And now, just after that, was choreography practice. You’d just learned the choreo a few days before, so for the most part you had it down. As lead dancer, you also had to make sure everyone else in your group understood that too. 

So, thirty minutes into practice, when none of your members seemed to be latching on, you sighed. Your entire job was to simply lead, and do well. Somehow, you couldn’t manage to do that. Once more, you started the choreography, and told your girls to simply stand back and watch.

You had a slight tone, but you needed them to understand that rhythm is just as important as the real dance moves. Your entire body was covered in sweat, and you were growing more frustrated by the minute. 

The way your body moved was no longer elegant, just harsh, angry strokes of somewhat rhythmic actions. You did your best to do it just as you were shown, but the overwhelming anger and emotion in your body was just more than you could handle. 

Little did you know, next to your bandmates, stood Hyunjin and Chan. They had come to ask something, but instead found you dancing your angered heart out. All stopped and stared, and Chan could only focus on the way your hips contorted, the patterns your hips followed.

As the music stopped, you turned around, and your eyes widened at the visitors. 

“We can leave if you’re busy, Hyunjin-ah just wanted to ask if he could borrow the studio tomorrow, and I wanted a word with you, if that’s okay,” Chan asked, and all of your bandmates went silent, expecting you to take the lead of the conversation.

“Hyunjin-sunbaenim, the studio is yours whenever you need it. Let me know what time, and Chan-oppa, would you like to talk now?”

Hyunjin bowed, and gave a quick thank you before heading out of the room. “Yes, please. If you’re too busy, no worries,” and you looked at your girls and told them to head back to the dorm. You were done for today, no reason to beat a dead horse when clearly today was not a good one to get skills in. 

“Can we talk in my studio?” Chan came closer to you, almost a whisper, and you knew this was going to go one of two ways: he was going to fuck your brains out, or he was going to let you know that he did not think of you in that way, and to please never discuss things like that with him again. You don’t think you could handle either, at least not today. 

“Yeah, let me grab some other clothes,” you said softly, rubbing your forehead in anxiety. Chan quickly started to mention something, and you shut him up quick. “I don’t—”

“Chan, I’m getting new clothes because I am sweaty and tired, nothing else. I will meet you in your studio after I am changed,” you sighed, your hot knees feeling good against the cool floor of the choreography studio. Your duffle bag now wide open, you grabbed an oversized long sleeve shirt and a pair of loose jeans. 

You also reapplied deodorant and some perfume so you didn’t smell like you lived in a sewer, the amount

As your girls were long gone, you felt free to change in the studio. Your clothes quickly fell to the floor, and you were now in more comfortable apparel that is not drenched in sweat. Dreading this conversation with Chan, you swiftly collected your things and moved them to the corner to come collect after you spoke to Chan and was ready to go home. 

Guiding your way to Chan’s studio was a walk in the park. The amount of times you’d go in there to talk to him, or for him to let you hear what he’d been working on, was countless. You two had budded a beautiful friendship, and he had been somewhat of a rock. He had always been so sweet, so loving. And you’ve possibly ruined it because you couldn’t think of anything other than sex when trying to guide him through dealing with stress.

Your eyes almost welled at the thought. You couldn’t cry though, not now. So, as you stood outside of Chan’s recording studio, you held your breath for a moment and looked up, letting the tears vanish.

A soft knock sounded, your knuckles rasping at the door. The hallways were silent, and you couldn’t hear a single thing from inside Chan’s studio. Your own heartbeat pounded in your ears, and you tensed as you heard footsteps leading up to his door.

He opened the door, his face showing no clear emotions. He didn’t seem angry, but he wasn’t too happy to see you, either. His hair was clearly ran through by his hand, blonde tufts falling back towards his ears. His makeup was done to perfection, light brown tones covering his lids. 

He wore a simple outfit, a loose black hoodie and dark blue sweatpants. He’d changed from earlier, his black ripped jeans now nowhere to be seen. “Come in, you can sit anywhere,” his voice was always soft, even though he could be fuming, his tone would never soar. 

“Chan, I just want to say I’m sorry,” you muffled out, plopping down unconventionally on his couch. “I just, I don’t know why I said those things or did that,” at this point, you just didn’t want him to think differently of you. He was the closest thing you had to a mentor, and he was an amazing friend. 

If you lost him, or ruined your relationship, you don’t think you could ever forgive yourself. 

You pulled your knees up to your chest as he took a seat in his chair, staring expectedly at you. Silence followed, so you continued, unsure of what he was expecting to hear. “I just don’t like you being stressed, and the only way I know how to cope with things is kind of like that, so I figured maybe you could too, and then I offered, and I feel like I just fucked things up between us. I.. just I’m so sorry.”

At this point your eyes had clouded up, and your voice had cracked multiple times. The day you’d had just piled up, and your exhaustion was visible. Chan’s eyes immediately softened, and he felt bad. He wasn’t mad, he just didn’t know how to approach the situation. 

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, and he stood up from his chair and joined you on the couch. At this point, you’d started full on crying. “I ruined our friendship, and now I’m sitting here crying so you’re gonna feel too bad to be honest with me about what I did wrong,” you were now sniffling hard, and your chest was dense you were surprised you could breathe. 

“No, love, that’s not it, I promise,” your heart pumped blood a bit harder at his nickname for you, and he placed a warm hand on your back. “I came here to ask if you were okay,” his tone was now nothing but soft and supportive, and he continuously rubbed your back. Warmth spread throughout your entire body. 

“I heard about the meeting, and everyone kept discussing how stressed out you were today,” in the dim light once more, his eyes glowed. They were so soft, so sweet. His entire aura was just warm, loving, and nothing was more assuring. 

“No matter what happens between us, you’re my friend, and I care about you,” he smiled softly, “Nothing would change that, unless you like, stabbed me or something,” he laughed soulfully, and you laughed with him. He pulled you closer to him, your head now leaning on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Chan. I just didn’t know what to do, and today has been really shitty,” you smiled, and let your head fall even closer to his chest. His thumbs ran circles around your back, and he held you close. “It’s okay, I understand. Trust me,” a warm silence encased the entire room, and as Chan now cuddled you warmly, your face was now red at the reality of the situation.

“Do you feel a bit better?”

“Yeah, I just needed someone to remind me of how things are and to keep me grounded,” you sighed, and Chan’s thumb was now no longer rubbing your back. His hand had stilled, and all you could hear was the heartbeat from inside Chan’s chest. He was so broad, and the expanse of his torso provided a very comfortable pillow.

“I wasn’t offended, or taken back or anything when you offered, you know that, right?” Chan spoke out of nowhere, the rumbling of his chest vibrating intensely. “I wouldn’t have known, I tried my best to ignore you in case you never wanted to speak to me again,”

A small laugh came out of Chan, and his chest pushed your head a bit. “No, in fact, I think I’ve thought about it a little too much.”

You pushed your head off of him at this point, and resuming your position before he sat on the couch. You pulled your knees back up to your chest, and looked at him. “Really?”

“You said you wanted to have sex with someone you trust, and I feel the same way. It’s really hard to come by good people with good intentions, and you also happen to be beyond gorgeous. Why would I not want to?”

With cheeks now flushed red, you giggled. School-girl giggled, specifically. You had no idea how to take this compliment, but then the realization hit you. Christopher Bang just said he wants to fuck you.

His face also turned a deep scarlet, and he looked down, waiting for a reaction. “Mr. Bang, the things you say. So scandalous,” you both laughed lightly, and you hummed in response to the silence. “If we decide to ever do something, it’s important we talk about it first,” you mentioned, and now the conversation went from light-hearted to a bit more serious.

 “Of course, but in what way?”

“I don’t know, what kinds of things do you like? I can’t promise I can pertain to everything, but there’s no harm in trying. Especially if it happens more than once,” you clutched your legs, and Chan leaned forward a bit, his elbows on his knees as he stared ahead.

“Uh, well,” he laughed, and covered his hands with his face. This was the Chan you liked, who could make any situation, no matter how dark, seem light and easy-going. “It’s not really,” he started, beginning to look at you, then stopping himself, “I don’t know. I never usually talk about it like this,”

“Well, how about this: I tell you what I like, and you tell me what you’re willing to do. Just because I like it does not mean you have to do it, but if you enjoy it too, its mutual pleasure, yeah?”

Chan simply nodded, now mesmerized by you. His face completely tracked yours, and you sighed. “I have always loved your hands. I really, really like if you’d put them around my neck, if you would ever feel so kind. I really love being praised, I love being called a good girl, things like that. My favorite foreplay is just making out, I’m just a big softie, but I can take rough if that’s what you like. I’m a big pleaser, and I want to make sure you’re taken care of and get some pleasure out of this,”

Chan nodded once more, and his fingers instinctively wrapped themselves around his rings, twisting and turning. “Your turn, Channie,” you smirked, and he leaned back, a smile crowning his face. 

“Well, I really like being soft and intimate, I like any position, bonus points if I see your face,” he smiled, his cheeks burning scarlet. He clearly did not talk about these things often, moreso just played them out in the midst of a high and never spoke of it again. But he and you both knew how important communication was, so he continued.

“I have played around with being called Daddy, but I’m not sure, and if you’re not comfortable with it—”

“If I am that uncomfortable with something, I promise I’ll tell you. Besides, that’s really cute. Rolls right off the tongue, right Daddy?”

He visibily shivered, and you smiled. “I—uh, I like if you’d run your fingers through my hair, not too hard, but like soothingly, kind of? If that makes sense. I also like it if you’d verbalise when you’re, uh—”

You knew where he was going, so you leaned close to his ear and finished his sentence for him. “Gonna cum? Oh, it would be rude not to,” you laughed gently, and you saw the last of Chan’s patience snap like a rubber band. 

His hands grabbed your face sternly, yet somehow gently. “Do you want this?” he asked, the lust obvious on his face. Despite any previous conversation, he needed verbal consent to continue, and it would make him feel most okay with doing this. 

“Yes,”

The room was now silent, anticipation filling your entire body. You’d come in here crying, and you couldn’t help but hope you’d leave the same way; just a different type of crying. 

He pushed you so your back was now flush against the couch, the headrest leaning your upper torso closer to him. “Tell me to stop, and I promise I will, alright? The second you tell me to,” he was now looking you dead in the eyes, above you. Your legs were spread open, and his entire body was in the valley of your abdomen. Both of his arms were on either side of you, perching himself up. 

“Chris, just kiss me already,” you whined, and he laughed wholeheartedly, before dipping in. The first kiss was hesitant, exploring new territory. His lips tasted like vanilla chapstick, and the first few were light pecks. It took only a second before he took the initiative and added his tongue to the mixture. 

You rarely ever used tongue, most of your hookups barely even kissed, which is why none of them compared. Kissing was your weak point, it was a vulnerability. And Chan did not abuse that power once.

“Is this okay?” he mumbled against your mouth, your exchanging saliva now making more than your mouth lubricated. “Fuck, yes,” you moaned out, the amount of times he would kiss you now making you weak.

His hands dragged softly, and held themselves at your jaw, a classic sweetheart. His thumb was against your cheek so softly, the pads gracefully rubbing across the expanse of your cheekbone.

Everything about this was so domestic, so warm. His kisses were so soft, and full of love. There was no rush, no push to go any farther had you or him decided not to. His warm hands on your face made you purr on the inside, and when he pulled away, he had looked more beautiful than ever. 

You had no intention of mentioning the wetness that had gathered between your legs, until Chan was staring at you, and momentarily his eyes widened. “Shit,” he cursed, looking around rapidly. “We don’t have a condom. I’m clean and everything, but we don’t have to continue if you don’t feel comfortable,”

“I have an implant, and I’m clean too. I just want you, if you want me too.”

Chan had no other qualms about it, and he attacked your face in sloppy kisses. “Here, can we switch positions, my arm is hurting?” he asked awkwardly, and you laughed with your entire chest. It was a normal question, but the way he asked so ashamedly, as if it was something terrible. 

“Sit up straight, let me get on your lap,” you said softly, and he did as he was told. It was only then that you saw the bulge in his sweatpants, and you forgot that he actually had a male appendage, and from the looks of it, he was either girthy or long. Or both. 

As long as he knew how to use it, you’d be fine. 

He grabbed you by your hand to help maneuver you, and now your entire weight was on top of Chan. As you finally sat your hips down, he groaned. “Oh god,”

You took his face in your hands, and started kissing him again. At this point, you didn’t want him to be respectful anymore. His hands did not waver from your face, and so you took it into your own hands. Grabbing them both, so soft and calloused, and placed them as discreetly as you could, onto your hips. Moreso your ass, but Chan didn’t know your intentions. 

His hands pushed your hips forward, now rutting against his hard on. His lips and yours were now in a frenzy, drenching each other. It was still pretty slow, nothing fast paced, just more intense.

He broke the kiss, and his hands now edged at the bottom of your shirt. “Can I take this off?” he asked, breathless. His lips were now swollen and puffy, and his pupils were blown wide. 

You nodded softly, no words needed to be said. He quickly hauled the oversize shirt above your head, and groaned harshly when he realized you had no bra on. His first instinct was to latch his mouth onto your nipples, sucking softly. A moan left your mouth, and with nothing to hold onto anymore, your hands found his hair. 

Still rocking back and forth, your panties were probably soaked at that point. So much foreplay had you almost throbbing, and you couldn’t wait much longer to have him inside you. 

“Chan, please,” you moaned out, and he bit down on your nipple gently. “Only since you asked so nicely,” he added, and he told you to stand up. You did so, easily willingly, yet you loved the way he spoke to you.

It was almost a request, a plea. There was no power imbalance here, simply one trying to find another. He was so gentle, in everything he did. You wanted to drown in that feeling. 

He pulled your jeans off without a hitch, and eyed your lace panties hungrily, slightly thankful you’d changed earlier this evening. His fingers grasped the sides, pulling them down your legs. You were now completely bare, and he was fully dressed. This was a problem. 

“Not fair, your turn,” you pouted, and his eyes were fixated on your naked body. It felt odd, having him see you like this, but you couldn’t complain. Your arousal was now tainting your inner thighs, and Chan could probably see it too. 

He rid himself of his hoodie and his shirt at the same time, and you finally got a full view of him shirtless. This man was absolutely ripped, and you had to hold in a gasp. His arms were lined in protruding veins, and his abs were impeccable. You worked out, but not in your wildest dreams would you ever be able to maintain that nice of a physique. 

It wasn’t until he pulled off his pants, and painstakingly after, he patiently pulled his boxers off. God, did he have a pretty cock. A bit longer than average, slightly girthy, and it made your mouth water just thinking about it. 

Your first instinct was to pop down onto your knees, but as you were on your way down, Chan grabbed you by the arm. “Not this time, please, I need you,” he whined out, almost painfully. 

As you were on top of his lap, you were careful not to let him inside you yet. You figured he could decide when to do it, and you squealed when he let one hand slide from your face, down to your throat. His fingers, covered in rings, squeezed gently. He coaxed another moan from you as he let his fingers glide down the valley of your body, and found itself on your clit.

His movements were slow, but intense. His fingers glided over your folds, picking up some of your arousal, and placed all of his attention onto your little nub. Small pinprick moans escaped your mouth, and you began to tilt your hips in an attempt to get more friction. “Fuck, you’re so wet,”

Some noise semblant to a mew tried to leave your mouth, but his fingers tangled themselves around your neck further, leaving the sound trapped in your throat. “Are you ready? Or do we need to get you a bit more warmed up?” he asked softly, his mouth now next to you ear. His voice was dark, and husky.

“God, I just need you inside me,” you whined, and his hand let up on your neck, and he grabbed his cock harshly. He pumped it a few times, and spread your lips, and lined you up.

“Beg,” he said simply, and even if you tried to sink down, he now placed a hand on top of your hips harshly. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to. “W—what?” you asked, breathless. 

“Beg, I want to hear you beg for me to fuck you,” he repeated himself, and looked down at you mischeviously. You two were face to face, and his cock was still in his hands, and your lips spread wide open for him to see. “Fuck, please,” you whined, and to no avail, he didn’t budge, “please, daddy, I just wanna feel good,”

As soon as the name sounded from your mouth, he pushed inside of you. The stretch was amazing, it was slightly painful, but it felt like nothing on this earth could amount. His entire cock filled you out nicely, and the lewd sound of him smacking against you was filling the room.

His hands laid at your hips now, piling into you like his life depended on it. His balls were smacking against your ass, and the harsh thrusts stimulated your clit. Everything was so intense, the way he filled you so deeply, you could feel him in places you didn’t know he could reach, and you felt like you’d burst apart the seams. 

Shameless moans spilled from your mouth, and Chan was in your ear, grunting like a man starved. “Such a good girl, fuck, for me,” his groans were so animalistic, and the way his hands would hold you steady.

His fingers traveled down to toy with your clit, and he never stopped fucking you. Your fingers started to tangle within his hair, and his lips attached themselves to your neck, sucking, finding anything to latch onto. 

The second his fingers started rubbing your clit numbly, you knew that you were going to cum soon. Everything he did just felt so good, you were just a hole the second he started fucking you.

“I—I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum,” you breathed out heavily, and your legs started shaking. “Please, can I—please cum?”

“Yes, cum for me,” he breathed out in a husky tone, and it wasn’t long until you felt your thighs start to involuntarily shake, and the feeling inside your abdomen welling up. “I’m so—” you were cut off by your orgasm rushing over you, Chan’s fingers never stopped stimulating your clit.

You moaned out harshly, slumping towards him, unable to control yourself as one of the most harsh orgasms you’ve ever had washed over you. Your entire body started to seize, and you clenched around him harshly. He continued to fuck into you, sucking into your neck, and he starting fucking into you faster. He was definitely close, “Where-”

You cut him off, still under the shock of your orgasm, “inside me, please,” you begged, and he fucked into you once more, even harder. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,”

He lived up to his promise, as less than a few seconds later, his warm cum spurted inside of you, and he still rutted his hips, begging for more friction. He stroked into you a few more times, now drained of energy. He placed a soft kiss onto your neck, and whispered, “Thank you.”

You got up, and put your shirt back on over yourself, and Chan pulled his boxers and sweatpants on once more. A thought rose over you on whether to leave or not, but you knew Chan would be a skinship type of guy. He would probably have a drop, and not be used to just casual hookups like this.

“Do you want me to stay?” you asked softly, and a large part of you hoped he would say yes.

“Please.”

[liquid-luck-00]

My Life is One Complication After Another

Inspired by this post by @dolphin-ghost

Happy New Year everyone

Some cursing 🤬

Ao3 ~~~ Part 1 ~~~ Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette has always been willing to give everyone a second chance. That may have been why she still had people to consider them as her friends. That is why when Lila started yet another lie about some celebrity she, Adrien, Chloe, and Juleka were holding their laughter and rolled their eyes.

"Honest Alya I'm like this" Lila crossed her fingers "with Bruce's kids." Alya must not have recognized the name as the liar gave a small laugh "oh, right Bruce Wayne, he prefers to only go by Bruce."

"Oh my God, Girl you have got to give me an interview for my blog!" Alya lapped up the story.

"Of course" Lila smiled, then looked over at Marinette "Anything for my best friend."

At this point, Marinette wasn't paying attention to the liar. Instead Mari was talking in low voices with her actual best friend, Adrien. They sat on the very back bench and Juleka and Chloe on the bench in front of them.

That was their normal, it had been since their eighth year. Now two years later it was routine, her classmates shunned her only talking with her for class assignments. Otherwise they ignored her and that may just have been the best outcome.

She, Chloe, Juleka, Luka, and Adrien were in the park working on a photoshoot. Adrien was behind the camera while Juleka and Luka were modeling. Marinette and Chloe were changing for the next set. When they came out Mari noticed several reporters around the perimeter. Security had them handled and she focused on modeling her creation.

However this wasn't the last she saw of the reporters. They were always at the school questioning the students. What they were asking she didn't know as she was never questioned.

Three weeks of spotting and avoiding reporters, with them swarming the school she needed to get creative in order to transform. Lila was of course bathing in the limelight and attention.

Mari was the last person out of the school as she was getting the homework for her three friends who didn't come today. The first thing she noticed coming out of the courtyard was the purple limo. Her honorary uncle came to pick her up. As soon as the door closed said uncle was crushing her in a hug.

"It's Rock' n to see ya Nettie" Jagged spoke, the hug muffling his voice slightly.

"Same here Jagged," wiggling out of Jagged's hug she reached over to hug Penny. "so what's with the escort?"

"A close friend of ours wanted to meet you and He and his son's are waiting at our room," Penny explained.

"Okay..." she hesitated exiting the car to head inside "but why? Is this a commission or what?"

After a silent elevator ride, Penny hesitated at the door before speaking. "We are hoping you could clear something up actually," as she opened the door.

Mari stepped in and noticed them. The eldest looked to be around mid to late thirties, black hair and bluebell eyes, dressed in a dark charcoal suit.

The youngest of the boys seemed to be a couple years younger than her, shorter than her by a head, tanned skin, short black hair, and jade eyes. A scowl on his face partially hidden by the collar of a black peacoat and slacks as he sat on the arm chair.

A boy around her age with chin length black hair and azure eyes, a red hoodie under a grey bomber jacket and black pants. He looked like he hadn't slept in at least a week, and if how he was holding the travel mug in his hands it was probably true.

Next to him was another boy who looked a couple of years older, black messy hair about 5 cm at the longest and a white tuff in front, cerulean eyes, a brown leather jacket and distressed jeans. He seemed familiar but couldn't place it.

The last boy also had long black hair but seemed to be layered and shorter in the front, sky blue eyes, a blue varsity jacket and jeans. He would either be the eldest or second, he had a bright smile but kept shooting a glance at Fang.

Speaking of which once she was in the room and she saw him, he charged at her, knocking her over. Mari was giggling as Fang rolled over and she was lost to the world as she doted on the crocodile.

"Nettie" Penny finally managed to get her attention.

"Sorry," she stood "but if it wasn't done we wouldn't be able to talk. Hello I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng it is nice to meet you." again she smiled.

"Bruce Wayne" the man introduced himself, "and my sons. My youngest Damian." he gestured to the boy with green eyes. "Next is Tim" gesturing to the boy with the mug who rose it in acknowledgment. "Jason is the second oldest" the boy with the white tuff gave a lop sided smile. "And my eldest Dick" whose smile seemed to become brighter.

She smiled nodding at everyone before realization hit. A quick snap of her fingers before pulling out her phone, opened up her texts and started typing, ending with a quick picture of Jason.

I think I just met your idiot friend

She put away her phone. Not even a minute later another went off.

The ringing stopped once, twice, thrice, and on the fourth Jason, spoke up. "Sorry I should take this."

"Go ahead this can wait a moment." Mari smiled.

As soon as Jason answered the phone "What the hell are you doing in Paris!?" everyone heard the caller as Jason was holding the phone an arm length away.

"How did you know... you?!" it dawned on Jason.

"Guilty," she smiled. "I guess you're not as big of an idiot as Roy made you out to be."

"Hey!" Jason called before turning to the phone. "What the hell did you tell her Harper!" By now Roy was on speaker.

"You can't prove what I said, ya know," she could practically see Roy's smirk.

"Video's however," she was now smirking.

"What!!" Jason seemed to freeze.

"Bug! No!" Roy was sounding like he was going to start panicking.

"I think I have a few saved," she tapped her chin.

That was when Bruce cleared his throat. "As amusing as this is we have business to discuss."

"Talk to ya later Mari." Roy bid her farewell. "Oh and Jason don't underestimate her." the call ended.

"Okay so how do you know Roy?" Dick finally asked.

"Oh. It was at a charity ball hosted by Oliver Queen," she replied nonchalantly.

"Was it the same one where a baby elephant ended up at the event. Following you the whole time." Penny asked exasperated.

"I still don't get how you think we had anything to do with that." Marinette finally sat down. She ended up sitting on the ground leaning against the couch next to Jagged, Fang resting his head on her out stretched legs.

"I have so many questions,” Tim finally added to the conversation.

"Tt. can we stop beating around the bush already," Damian was irritated and it showed. "Are you or are you not my biological sister."

He seemed ready to pounce, unfortunately that was dangerous in Paris. Especially as she saw an akuma right outside the window. The question asked now forgotten as she focused on the corrupted butterfly.

"Nope, Nope. I am not dealing with an akuma today." she stood up. Took a deep breath and let her anger and frustrations to the surface. The smile fell from her face. "If you want a puppet have a marionette" Kwamii Adrien is rubbing off on me.

The butterfly changed targets and was heading towards her, finally gaining the other's attention. She vaulted over the couch and made a beeline to her backpack. By then the akuma was close so she tossed the backpack over to everyone and rolled out of the way.

"Glass jar, unscrew it" she called out.

"How pathetic running from a bug." Damian moved quickly to catch the butterfly but it moved and found something in his pocket. He was engulfed in purple and then he stood there in evergreen armor with golden accents. A red and yellow cape and a pitch black sword in his hand. Pocket knife, the sword is where the akuma is.

"Screw it" she turned and with two quick jabs his two arms went limp. A third knocked him to the ground.

She picked up the sword and went to Dick who was holding the jar. She took the jar, broke the sword, and went to catch the butterfly. As soon as she screwed the lid on the butterfly began to turn white.

She let out the breath she was holding as she compartmentalized her emotions yet again.

"What the fuck was that!" Jason screamed and so did Dick, minus the curse.

"Where and why do you have one of those," Jagged asked.

Finally Damian shouted "Why can I not move? What did you do?" he accused.

"Okay so the butterfly was an akuma used by Hawkmoth, Paris’ villain, to manipulate anyone with strong negative emotions. These champions or Akuma are used to attempt to retrieve magical jewels from our heroes. The jar was given to me and a few others in my class, because our class is a hot bed for akuma, by Ladybug, one of the heroes." she gave a short and simple run down. "As for Damian, those were a series of pressure points,” infused with magic to-take down people easily, "it should wear off in a few minutes."

"Teach me please!" Tim begged.

"I dunno." she started to chew her lip and shift her weight.

"Roy's warning now makes a lot more sense," Jason hummed.

"Tt. adequate," Damian muttered softly, Marinette is sure she is the only one who heard.

"Okay so where were we?" she smiled turning and sitting back down with Fang.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @dolphin-ghost @unabashedbookworm @bookgirl14 @laurcad123 @mochegato @vixen-uchiha

[httpsaiki]

Congrats on 300 love! I don’t think I’ve requested something yet from you even though I love your writing! Anyway, could I request a fic where Teruhashi and the (fem)reader are dating(usually I don’t mind what pronouns the reader has but for this one it’s kinda relevant. But you can make it gender neutral if you want)? So the two have been dating for a few months. The reason Teruhashi entered this relationship wasn’t because of “love” but because she wanted to get her fans off her back and what better was to do that than enetering a relationship with another girl. She this that it may help get her male fans off her and at first it’s great. Then the reader starts to see the relationship declining. At first Teruhashi was sweet and kind but now she is kind of rude to the reader, saying things like how she is embarrassing her or that if Teruhashi is so perfect why isn’t her s/o capable of being that way too. Mean ik (I don’t like Teruhashi if you couldn’t tell), the reader is also dealing with comments from her fans saying that the relationship is a charity case and such so she is feeling horrible in the relationship. A fight happens between the two and mean stuff is said. They break up and the reader isn’t taking it well. Not because she is upset she isn’t in the relationship cause she is happy to be out but because of the backlash from fans. Seeing this either Kuboyasu (jabjshsk I love him sm) or Saiki (love him too) comfort her and they begin to hang out more till they start to date. The two are now in a healthy and loving relationship and the reader gets to see what that feels like and how that wasn’t what she had with Teruhashi... I really just write this whole fic out lmao. I was going to write it but I’m simply lazy and I wanted to request something from you. As always ignore this or change anything if you don’t like it an take your time please don’t rush or stress yourself out. Ily hun❤️❤️

Hi!! Thank you so much <3! I wanted to say that I adore this request and honestly was ready to drop everything to write it, what an amazing idea you have here! I’m worried I focused a little too much on the Teruhashi part but, man, I’m a sucker for angst so it was a lot of fun. I think I may have gone a little overboard, as I don’t think I’ve written something this long before. I’m sorry if it’s wrong or not quite what you wanted. Thank you so so much for this request, I love it!

Small edit: I forgot to add I picked Saiki for this, as I think I write him a bit better than Kuboyasu!

— Reader is female! Warnings for slight angst, break up, fighting.

WC: 3041

Italics are Saiki “speaking” telepathically.

Teruhashi is the perfect pretty girl, on the outside at least. —————————————————–

“So, what I’m trying to say is… Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?” Teruhashi asked on the rooftop one fateful evening after school. She looked as gorgeous as ever, trying to hide her slightly blushing face as she avoided your eyes. The wind was blowing gently through her hair, causing it to sway ever so slightly to one side. The sun was setting behind her, giving her an even more angelic glow to her appearance. You said yes, of course, how could you not? It was magical, especially when it was from the world’s prettiest girl. There was no way you could reject her.

The perfect couple. That’s how it appeared to be. For some time, that’s even how it was.

Teruhashi Kokomi. Your stunning, admirable, and perfect girlfriend. She’s amazing. A few months ago when she asked you to be her girlfriend you were exhilarated. The thought of dating what many considered to be the perfect girl was a chance you knew you just couldn’t pass up. All the time spent with her felt like cloud nine, she made sure you were happy no matter what, and of course, you tried to do the same for her. Her reputation truly held up, even in private.

Over those months, it amazed you what a wonderful girlfriend she was, having seemingly endless affection and love for you. It felt like she was more in tune with your emotions than you’d ever been. She was always ready to listen to your problems, whether you just wanted to vent or needed solutions. She was such a giver in the relationship that you even felt a little bad about it.

She knew that, but she’d never tell you. Not yet, anyway.

So many precious memories flashed through your mind as you thought about her. From getting ice cream on hot summer days to study dates amid a cold, snowy winter (where there wasn’t as much studying as there was cuddling). All the late nights you had spent with her, talking about everything and yet nothing. Video calls at the bright and early hours of the mornings just so she could get your opinion on what she should wear for the day. Every little thing you did together seemed as perfect as Teruhashi herself.

So where had it all gone wrong?

The relationship seemed like it was going great. What happened? What had you done wrong? Recently, Teruhashi had been acting anything but herself. She’s been aggressive, rude, and not interested in anything to do with your relationship at all. She’d avoid you, ignore your calls and texts. When she did see you, she’d throw insult after insult your way, blaming you for problems that were far from in your control, ones that her in her life, not yours. But that wasn’t even the half of it.

What made it even worse? That was only in private. In public, whenever she was with you (or without) she put on her little show of being Miss Perfect. You don’t know how you didn’t see through it before, looking back it was so obvious how fake it was. While in public you were sometimes able to convince yourself she still loved you, clinging onto a desperate hope that things weren’t nearly as bad as reality would tell you. Maybe she was just having a rough time? Her life must be hard, with the constant stalking and fans harassing her along with the need to keep everything in her life completely in order. She must just be tired of it and need somewhere to vent her anger. You didn’t mind being that person, but just not like this. You couldn’t always expect her to be perfect, and you hadn’t. You did your best to make it clear to her from the start that you didn’t need her to be perfect all the time and that you’d be there no matter what. If she wanted to relax in private with you, she was more than welcome to. She never did.

You had it rough, too. Her fan club was constantly harassing you as well. They called you names worse than she did, and had gone to extreme lengths just to get you to break up with her. They stole your things, drew on your desk, and were all-around horrible towards you. They claimed the only reason Teruhashi was dating someone like you was that she pities you, Teruhashi could do so much better. Deep down, you knew that may be the case, but she still asked you out for a reason, right? You never once complained about it, nor told Teruhashi. It would be okay in the end, and being with her was worth it.

Looking back, the red flags were there from the start. It would’ve been better if you caved to the fan club’s wishes from the beginning.

Your arguments seemed to only get worse with time. Insults being thrown your way more than once a day. During a particularly bad argument, she expressed how she felt she was the only one keeping the relationship alive, the only one that truly cared. For the first time, you fought back.

“How could you say such a thing! I do my best for you, I’m sorry we can’t all be Miss Perfect! I try so hard and yet it’s never good enough, is it?” You yelled in frustration, your voice was a lot louder and far more powerful than you intended. Teruhashi was visibly taken aback, despite her constant berating, you had never once raised your voice at her. She paused for a moment, clearly to think. You could easily tell just what she was thinking about.

You had no idea she’d been keeping track of everything you told her. Well, you did, but you never imagined your insecurities would be used against you in the way Teruhashi has been. Screaming them, bringing them up to your face, and forcing you to face them without warning. Using them to insult you, making them worse, and letting them dig deeper into the back of your mind. 

Her face contorted in anger, even angrier than before. Listing things “wrong” with you as if her life depended on it, Teruhashi began her angry ranting. She wanted to get it across to you that she’s perfect and you’re far from that. She listed everything you’d ever done that irked her, every annoying thing you’ve said, and every problem you’ve ever told her about. She mocked emotions you’d told her in confidence and confessed that she always found them dramatic and ridiculous. She expressed how embarrassing it was to be seen in public with you, how she should only be seen with people on the same level as herself. If that wasn’t enough, she dealt one last finishing blow.

“I never loved you anyway.”

She turned and she left, slamming the door to your house shut behind her.

Your mind went blank and you barely noticed your knees hitting the floor as you collapsed to the ground. You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt the tears soaking into your shirt. You couldn’t see nor hear, everything around you felt numb and dark. Did she really mean all of that? There was no way you were that bad of a girlfriend to her. 

Why did you still not want to break up?

Days passed and you still hadn’t left your bedroom, let alone your house. Your phone was blown up with texts from your friends, asking if you were sick. You learned from glancing at a few of the messages that Teruhashi had told them that. Reading her name hurt, it made you feel ill as you remembered what had happened a mere few days ago.

Your phone dinged once again. You reached out and grabbed it with a weak grasp, not having the energy to do more than the bare minimum. The name on your screen made a wave of nausea come over you, the content of the message not helping either.

From: Kokomi♡

I’m coming over.

You really needed to change that contact name. That wasn’t what was important, though. Why was she coming here? What else could she possibly need from you, and what on earth else could you possibly offer? You didn’t have much time to think about it, you needed to appear at least somewhat put together by the time she got here.

Your hair was just finished drying as you pulled on clean clothes. You made sure the entrance and living room areas of your house were clean, along with the kitchen. The knock at the door sounded so familiar, Teruhashi always knocked the same way. It sent chills down your spine. Pulling on the best neutral face you could muster and forcing your legs to move, you opened the door.

She looked different. There was no glow to her anymore. She’d never looked less like an angel in your eyes. Even compared to when she’d been yelling at you. It was jarring, almost like she’s a total stranger. It’ll make talking to her easier, you mused.

You wordlessly invited her in, stepping aside as she avoided eye contact and made her way to sit in the living room. Even once you were sat in front of her, she still wouldn’t look at you. You couldn’t tell if that was because she felt shame or disgust. You just hoped it wasn’t the latter.

“What do you need?” You started the conversation, keeping your voice as steady as you could muster. You were quite impressed with how well you were doing.

“We need to break up.” She stated, still not looking up. You rolled your eyes.

“As if I’d stay with you after that.” You spit out, trying to keep your words from sounding too venomous. A moment of silence, you could feel your heartbeat quicken in your chest. The nerves were starting to get to you and one of you needed to say something before the panic could set in. Luckily, Teruhashi did.

“They were right, you know - the fan club?” She said quietly.

“What?” You were surprised, she knew about that?

“It was like a charity case. I only dated you to get them off my back. Didn’t work though. Shame.” Her voice was calm, way too calm to be saying something so harsh. She was fine just ending your relationship like that, no matter what you’d been through together.

“Oh... of course.” She really had never loved you. You were just a tool she could use to escape the mindless drones that claimed to support her. So it all had meant nothing. It was just too good to be true. 

She stood and wordlessly left, walking out of your life for good. Good riddance.

Your pain was only beginning to set in. You couldn’t care less that she broke up with you, you were miserable dating her anyways. No, the hardest part was you would be truly alone now. You knew once word got out that she broke up with you the whole school would blame you. There’s no way their perfect pretty princess could do wrong. It hurt to think about it, you’d probably lose your friends over this. There was one person, though, just maybe one person you could talk to.

Saiki Kusuo. An average looking boy, he didn’t stand out much. You had been friends with him months ago before you dated Teruhashi but she forced you to stop talking to him when you started dating. You never understood why, but she eventually told you that it’s because she used to like him before she got with you and she found it awkward for you to talk to him. You understood. The guilt ate you alive, but you complied. From that day on, you’d never again spoken a word to him.

You could tell just by looking at him he wasn’t like everyone else. He didn’t fawn all over Teruhashi when she entered a room and maybe that’s what drew you to him right now. He’d be the perfect friend, someone that wasn’t obsessed with her. You just hoped he’d forgive you.

“Hey, Saiki?” You asked, shyly walking up to him. He glanced up at you, an uninterested expression plastered on his face. He wasn’t visibly upset by you, but that only made you more nervous. You have no idea what he’s thinking. Realizing he wasn’t going to reply, you continued talking.

“I was just wondering if you’d be willing to have lunch with me. I-I know we haven’t spoken in a while but there are some things I’d like to clear up.”

Saiki knew exactly why you stopped talking to him. He wasn’t going to blame you for that, either. It wasn’t your fault. Sure, he was a little upset about it, you were someone whose presence he actually could tolerate. You were nice to talk to, mainly because you knew when was a good time and when to stop. Traits Saiki greatly admired and appreciated in a person. He might have even liked you a little.

He wasn’t about to let you go. Not as easy as the first time. “Sure.” 

His response was curt and blunt, but you couldn’t help the small smile that graced your features. It was your first genuine smile in months. Maybe the whole world wouldn’t be completely against you.

“Thank you.” You stated simply, turning to sit back in your seat. It seemed like such a meaningless thanks, but Saiki knew there was more behind it than that.

Lunch came quickly enough and before you knew it you were eating under a tree with Saiki. You explained everything that happened over the last couple of months, how awfully you’d been treated behind the scenes. You apologized more than necessary for abandoning Saiki, trying to convey that you didn’t want to, but your ex-girlfriend had somewhat forced you to. 

Saiki was forgiving, and far more understanding than he needed to be about the situation you were in along with the one you found yourself in now. Deep down, he was happy to have you back. Even if you weren’t super close before, he wanted to help you feel better and get over the torturous relationship you had just left.

So Saiki was there for you. The little lunch meets becoming a daily occurrence and he did his best to keep the Teruhashi fan club away from you. Talking to Saiki felt different, it was like he was genuinely listening and cared about what you told him. He was eager to help and aided as much as he could in your recovery.

Weeks passed as the routine kept up. On the weekends you’d meet for dessert and studying. Everything you did with Saiki felt right, it felt safe and healthy. You hadn’t realized how suffocating your old relationship was - even during the good days. 

It wasn’t until Saiki asked you out and you said yes that you truly experienced what being loved felt like. It was late, well after the sun went down. Saiki had snuck into your house, claiming that his parents were being annoying but you knew that was a cover for the fact he missed you. There was no way they were awake these early hours of the morning. He saw your tired face under the dim light that peaked in from your window, as you woke up from his sudden appearance in your bedroom. Saiki felt a small rush. He needed to tell you. Now.

“Y/N” He spoke. 

“Saiki?” The confusion was evident in your voice, “You spoke?” You were clearly tired after being disrupted from your sleep. Never having heard him speak before wasn’t helping with your state.

“Yeah.” He whispered, reaching a hand out to brush the hair out of your eyes, letting it linger on your cheek. It was a little more than platonic, just like the look in his eyes.

“I really like you, Y/N.” He whispered once again, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. 

But you did. Your eyes shot open, blinking a little in surprise. There was no way he just said that, you must be dreaming. There was no way this pink-haired boy that made you feel more than anyone else ever had was standing in your bedroom, at four o’clock in the morning saying he likes you.

You sat up, “You really mean that?” It came out without you intending it to. It probably sounded rude, but you were far beyond the point of being awake enough to care.

“Yeah.” He said, a small chuckle coming out, “I do.”

You didn’t say anything, all you did was slide back on your bed, making room for Saiki and open your arms. He took the hint and made himself comfortable next to you. He let out a small sigh, doubting he’d be able to sleep like this despite his relaxation. He wanted to protect you for as long as he could. He stared at you, probably a little more than he should. Saiki couldn’t help it, his eyes wouldn’t leave your form. You looked like you belonged in his arms, or so he thought. He was having a hard time processing his happiness at your figure in his arms. It had always been you, he was well aware of that now. 

“You still awake?” he asked, going back to his telepathic communication. You mumbled a small yes, prompting him to continue talking. “Thank you,” he started, “for asking me to sit with you at lunch that one day. For coming back to me.”

You let out a tired giggle, “You missed me.”

“I did.” He felt you tense when you said that as if you were shocked to hear it. That didn’t surprise him, he had his doubts you were told you were cared about enough, especially in your last relationship.

Looking down at you once again, he realized you’d fallen asleep. A smile grew on his lips as he made a silent promise to show you what real love feels like. He’d cherish you to the moon and back. It’s what you deserve and he was going to give it to you.

[ichor-and-symbiosis]

Breakfast Blues. (Shigaraki x f!Reader, NSFWish)

Tomura could tell something was off as soon as he entered the kitchen. Your smile felt a little too forced, your eyes a little too hopeful as you plated a bowl of rice and eggs for him, hesitating for a moment to speak. It put him in a sour mood. He didn't like having to pry answers from you.

He usually managed to swipe his breakfast away and go back to his room for privacy, but you were making this increasingly difficult for him lately. It started with inane attempts to get him into conversations with you, which really was a stupid idea, given the fact that he never mustered more than a few grunts in the morning. His growling stomach initially helped fighting you off, but you seemed to have a backbone today.

Gripping the dishes in hand, you offered him a meek smile and asked, "Would you like to eat together?"

His eyes narrowed as he frowned. "Why?" his voice croaked out, scratchy and unpleasant from disuse.

"I just thought it would be nice. You're busy a lot, so ... "

"So?" Your confidence faltered under his scrutinizing stare. Something about your dying smile made him even more irritated, or perhaps confused. And he did not like feeling confused. "I'm hungry, woman."

Sensing his displeasure, you wordlessly handed over the breakfast and looked away. Under different circumstances, Tomura liked teasing you in this state. So secretive and cute, your lips set in a stubborn pout and your chin cast downwards for him to inevitably grip and force your attention back to him.

But he was so damn hungry and he had a game loaded on his computer for his return.

Tomura turned to leave, having decided he waited enough for your comeback. It was only the glaring absence of your shuffling feet and the tinkering of cookware that made him pause for a split second at the threshold. Just a quick glance to satiate his curiosity.

You stood exactly where he left you, still looking away, hands wringing together without anything else to hold. Defeated and hurt. The sting of negative emotions welled up inside him so suddenly that he immediately took off, wishing he had a free hand to scratch his neck.

-

No amount of homecooked breakfast or countless wins could erase his lingering discontent. Tomura tried to ignore that strange encounter with you, burying his thoughts in strategies and shit-talking as he let the time slip away. But try as he might, he just couldn't shake it off. Throwing aside his game console, Tomura leered at the clock and slumped in his chair, annoyed at the realization that you hadn't visited him this whole time.

You were nowhere to be found in the apartment. A cursory glance at his phone showed him a single text from you. I'm going out with Toga. Be back later.

You didn't even send him a heart emoji.

It was a stupid thing to set him off. Everything about today was stupid. You were stupid, he was stupid, his damn neediness was stupid, even the breakfast bowls he brought to the sink were stupid. What kind of world was this, where he, Shigaraki Tomura, successor of Japan's most dangerous criminal, brought his dishes to the kitchen and moped about a goddamn heart emoji.

He needed a drink.

-

It was a testament to his bad mood that Tomura chose to walk all the way to the bar instead of asking Kurogiri to warp him there. His eyes scanned the streets in a vain attempt to track you down among the crowd, but you were nowhere to be found and he was growing anxious by the minute.

Tomura kicked the door open and hopped the counter to pilfer the expensive liquor stash. His taste gravitated towards the most expensive rum in the collection. He could certainly chase his sorrows away with cheap swill or rubbing alcohol, but if he was going to torture his body tonight, then he would do so with style. It was all worthless in the end, anyway.

He sat by himself for who knows how long. It was utterly pathetic and he knew he had better things to do, yet every time he tried to pull himself away from the counter, his head spun uncomfortably and the amber liquid beckoned him towards a numbing buzz. His phone lay abandoned on the counter, having been checked several times for a text or a phone call from you.

You hadn't even called to find out where he was. He had half a mind to wonder if you would walk through the door to surprise him, but there were only so many times he could glance at the door before the urge to disintegrate it took hold. He grabbed the rum bottle instead, messily pouring more liquor into his glass as he ignored the distortion of the air in front of him. He was in no state of mind to stare straight into Kurogiri's spinning portal. The very thought of it made him slam the bottle down and hold onto it for dear life to compose himself.

Kurogiri appeared behind the bar, quietly assessing the state of his charge. He pulled out a rag to mop up spilled liquor and eyed Tomura's heavy movements as he let go of the rum and took the glass in a white-knuckled grip.

"You are alone."

Tomura grunted, taking a swig to avoid conversation. His guardian was smart enough to immediately pick up his mood. It was both annoying and reassuring to see those golden eyes narrow in astute observation.

"It is rare for your lover to be absent."

"..."

A moment of silence. "Forgive me for being presumptuous, but you seem to be more upset than usual."

Tomura snorted. "Yeah, no shit." He stared at the rum glass in frustration, glaring at the alcohol as though it had personally offended him. His fingertips curled around the rim as he lifted the glass and swirled the liquid around, irate at the stretching silence. It was bad enough he had to deal with your petulant absence. Now he had to endure Kurogiri's calm patience, too.

His fingers gripped the glass tighter as he contemplated satisfying his urge to decay, to give him some form of release from the frustration currently plaguing him. The blaring noise of his video games would be a welcome respite from this silence. Instead, he was forced to nurse a headache while Kurogiri made him feel like a child.

All because of you. You had a hold on him even when you were gone. Perhaps even more poignant because you were gone.

"It's fucking dumb," Tomura grumbled. And it was. The situation was so unbelievably ridiculous that he clammed up again, unable to voice his problems lest he fly into a rage over the mental image of your sorrowful eyes and quivering bottom lip.

"What happened?"

"I don't even know. She's been acting weird the past week and it all blew over this morning." His leg jittered restlessly against the footrest. He crossed his leg over his thigh to regain some semblance of control, letting out a sharp sigh as he scratched his neck. "I just wanted some damn breakfast. That's all. And that woman stood there looking like I broke up with her just because I didn't want to eat with her."

"Were you doing something important?"

Oh, he did not like that question. He did not like it one bit.

"I was in the middle of gaming," Tomura growled through clenched teeth. "Don't even try to bitch at me about it."

"That was not my intention. I know how important your lifestyle is to you." Tomura stared at him, feeling his anger somehow slip through the cracks and fizzle away. Kurogiri took the whiskey bottle beside him and poured more into the emptying glass. "Has this happened before?"

"No. Sometimes she tried to keep me there longer with dumb small-talk, but she's never flat out asked. And the damn look on her face when I - " Tomura cut himself off with a frustrated growl. Your defeated expression haunted him once more. He downed the liquor in one go and reveled in the horrible burn tearing his throat apart. "What the hell does she want from me?" he forced out, staring hard into the distance as a sudden sense of shame stabbed him like a knife.

"If I may speculate ... " Kurogiri paused, waiting for his rebuke. When none came, an answer followed. "You are often preoccupied throughout the day. Perhaps she simply misses you and craves your attention."

Tomura opened his mouth and promptly closed it. A bout of dizziness hit him. Was it the alcohol or the crashing realization of how obvious the answer had been?

The logic of Kurogiri's statement was so absurdly simple that it had to be true. Because you really were just so simple. Uncomplicated in your motives, always wearing your heart on your sleeve, and always so flagrantly loving and patient with him. Tomura looked away from Kurogiri, hating how well his guardian knew not only him, but you, too.

A little flame of happiness kindled deep inside him, threatening to chase away the darkness of his bitter emotions. You hadn't been difficult on purpose this morning. You just wanted to spend time with him.

His bleary gaze settled on the monitor resting at the other end of the bar. How would his mentor react to this situation?

The silence coming from the monitor felt altogether different from what he experienced so far. It was uncomfortable and imposing, filling his ears with white noise and clouding his thoughts. Tomura stared at his reflection in the black screen and frowned, hyper-aware of the way his eyes had softened while he thought about you, the way he looked so boyish and tired.

Look at what she is turning you into, the screen seemed to say.

"Shigaraki Tomura." He tore his gaze away from his reflection and met Kurogiri's expressionless face. "Is it a weakness to enjoy feeling wanted?"

His brows furrowed in thought.

-

Tomura made up with you in the most typical fashion. That is to say, he cornered you at home and snuffed out any further talk by devouring your lips with incessant kisses, taking you right on the living room couch and stalking after you to your bedroom for more. It was a love language he knew best, letting you feel his feverish desire with every deep thrust, the firm iron grip of his hands on your soft hips and thighs, his groans and whispered demands for more of you, more of your tight heat and your gentle fingers outlining his scars, touching his rough lips, nails digging into his back as you mewl for more of him.

You were hellfire. There was no liquor strong enough in the world to burn him half as much as his need to tell you he loved you. The words clawed and tore at his chest, inflamed his throat until he choked on them, forcing him to spit out twisted versions of the truth. Cowardly, pathetic half-truths about how you belonged to him, how you were his and his alone.

And you still smiled at him for it. You took all that he gave you and asked for so little in return.

Is it a weakness to enjoy feeling wanted?

The question plagued him throughout the night as your arms held him close, his head pillowed on your chest while he listened to your soft breathing and felt the beat of your heart whispering an answer he could not decipher.

-

Tomura awoke to your absence. It was not a rare occurrence. The split-second paranoia washing over him was not rare, either. He ran from that feeling many times before, immediately sick at the thought of how lonely he felt without you. It was pathetic. He should not feel this way about anyone. He should feel empty, as though you were just a moment of entertainment, an experience to be had and a level to beat in the game of life.

But you were well past that point now. Whether or not he could say it aloud, Tomura was in love. So if you wanted to have breakfast together, then you had better prepare yourself for his morning attitude.

He caught you a little early this time. You were in the middle of stirring an omelette when he crept up behind you, jolting in surprise as he pressed himself to your back and wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Good morning," you greeted him, giving him a peck on the cheek. A light smile played on your lips. "I'm almost done."

Tomura purred a noncommittal response and curled his fingers around your jaw, angling your head back to capture your mouth in a lazy kiss. Your pleased sigh broke off into a stilted noise as he dipped his tongue inside and made sure you felt every slow lick and suck to your lips. His arm tightened in response to you melting against him, mentally debating whether he should let you finish cooking or to find the nearest surface to defile.

A sizzling pop from the frying pan caught your attention. You kissed him hard and returned to your duty, using your spatula to roll the omelette into shape. Your tongue peaked out from your reddened lips as you made a face of mild disgust. "You didn't brush, nasty."

"Didn't stop you though," Tomura countered, grinning at your wry expression.

You spooned the cooked food onto a nearby plate and cracked another egg into the pan. He waited for your invitation, good mood dampening by the second as you settled into your routine without another word. It was an expected reaction, to be fair. He hurt you yesterday and now he was paying for it.

Your questioning glance put him on alert. "Do you need something else?"

He wracked his brain for a response. Something that could keep him here longer without raising further suspicion. "Orange juice."

"It's in the fridge. Can you pour me some, too?"

Tomura forced himself to detach from you, taking his time to complete the task as he watched your progress from the corner of his eye. Cups placed on the table. Orange juice poured at a strategically slow rate. By the time he finished, your breakfast had been plated and you left it unattended to hurriedly put the forgotten box of eggs back into the fridge. Tomura used this distraction to take both plates to the table, setting yours across from him as he plopped down onto the chair and began to eat.

You caught on as soon as the fridge door closed. Tomura could feel your stare on him while he downed the orange juice. He glanced at you nonchalantly, eyebrow raised as though you were the one behaving abnormally.

"You're joining me?" you asked, a hint of hope coloring your voice as you sat down.

"Clearly."

You smiled so sweetly that he felt his heart stammer and restart. "Wow. Can I get you to eat some fruits while we're at it?"

"Don't push your luck," he grumbled, and that was the end of that.

Tomura silently listened to your happy chatter and the clanging of silverware on plates, wondering how the hell he found himself in domestic bliss. Sunlight streamed through the nearby window and illuminated your entire being, heightening your inner glow. You looked beautiful and peaceful. It calmed him far more than you could ever know.

Did he feel weak as he basked in your attention? Did he feel weak, knowing that you wanted him beside you even for the most mundane things?

The answer was undeniable.

He felt strong.

Different from the power trip he thrived on when he succeeded in yet another level.

Different from the sadistic glee he felt when the nomu followed his command.

Different from the sense of duty plaguing his mind when his teammates looked to him for direction.

This inner sense of peace steadied his mind and cleared his thoughts. How could it be weakness when he would tear the world apart for you?

The soft tap of your foot on his knee drew his attention to you. "This was nice," you softly said. "Next time I'll leave a trail of takoyaki outside your room so you can join me for lunch."

He huffed a dry laugh. "Make me botamochis and you got yourself a deal."

"You'll eat sweets made from red beans but not a single fruit ... " You innocently popped another strawberry into your mouth. "Not even these strawberries ... "

"Get over here and give me a taste then," he growled, settling back in his chair with a clear invitation of his own.

You accepted without delay.

[lcvemalfcy]

A Bump in the Road || D.M

summary: you and draco get into a fight after he becomes distant

pairing: draco x reader

warning: angst, draco being an ass, fluff

word count: 1.6k

a/n: I just came back from a small vacation and thought of this + wrote it on the plane lol so srry if it’s not the best

you felt many emotions as you entered the hogwarts grounds, the school year starting and summer coming to an end. you felt happy and excited due to the fact that you would finally be able to see your boyfriend, draco, after what seemed like forever.

your parents decided to bring you on a trip to europe this summer, giving you no time to spend with him.

spotting him from afar, you ran up behind him, bringing your hands to his eyes. "guess who?" you sang song, smiling to yourself. "hmm, crabbe?" your hands left his face as he turned around, greeting you with the smile that could make you melt within seconds.

he cupped your face, lips softly attaching to yours. you could stay like this forever, however he pulled away before turning sideways towards a brunette girl who stood by his side.

"y/n, this is astoria greengrass, daphne's sister. we spent a lot of time with each other this summer since our parents decided to do business together."

you grew confused, draco didn't mention her or their parents' business deal in his letters to you. nonetheless, you brought your hand forward to the greet brunette.

"it's so nice to meet you, daphne talks about you a lot."

her hand met with yours, shaking it politely. "I'm sure they aren't good things then," she joked, causing draco to chuckle as you laughed.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a few weeks later into the school year, you were sitting at a table in the library waiting for draco as you had planned to meet up with each other after dinner.

he was supposed to be here ten minutes ago. those ten minutes turned into fifteen, and those fifteen slowly turned into thirty.  you weren't mad at him, it's just very unlikely for draco to be late.

you decided to wait a few more minutes for him, your eyes feeling droopy as you stared at the clock ahead of you.

you were startled as you were suddenly shaken awake by madam pince, informing you that the library had just closed. after apologizing endlessly, you sluggishly walked back to the common room.

you were confused as to why draco failed to show up, however you convinced yourself that he accidentally fell asleep after having an exhausting day. entering the common room, the laughter of a boy and girl filled your ears, and you immediately recognized the boy's.

as you walked further in, you saw draco and astoria laughing together on the couch in front of the fireplace, papers scattered everywhere. he didn't notice you at first, but when he did, his smile fell upon seeing your weary state, suddenly reminded of your plans.

"merlin, I'm sorry. I've been helping astoria study for her potions test tomorrow and I guess I lost track of time," he hurriedly rushed over to you.

you weren't going to lie, you were hurt. maybe even jealous? the fact that draco had kept you waiting long enough for you to fall asleep until curfew due to astoria made you the littlest bit of sad, however you pushed the feeling away.

"it's okay, I understand. I'm feeling tired, I'm gonna head up and get ready for bed," you gave him a small smile, waving to astoria as you turned to the direction of your dorm. "do you want me to come with you?" draco offered as he reached out for your arm.

you sighed as you glanced around at the messy area in front of you. "no it's fine, I'll just see you tomorrow," you mumbled the last bit as draco planted a kiss onto your forehead, a frown appearing on your face. "and astoria? if draco's helping you study, you're definitely going to ace that test," you teased as you finally turned around and headed for your dorm.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

you expected this to be a one time thing, but was left disappointed as draco started to spend more time with her and less with you.

a few weeks ago you had to help mcgonagall clean up a mess made by other students after school hours as you were a prefect, causing you to be late to meet with draco after his quidditch practice.

finally arriving to the quidditch pitch, you saw that he was already conversing with astoria. after apologizing for being late, he assured you it was okay because he had "astoria to keep him company." if anything, it only made you feel worse.

and just a few days ago, he didn't meet up with you after class to walk you to lunch, so you headed to the great hall without him, hunger taking over your body. upon entering, you recognized the blonde boy and saw that he had already been seated, diving into his meal.

beside him, in your spot, sat the darn brunette girl. you gulped as you turned around, heading to your next class, not wanting to be around the both of them.

for every instance this happened, you couldn't help but get more frustrated and jealous as you started to see him less.

you lost it one saturday morning when you went to meet up with draco for your weekly hogsmeade trip. you were looking forward to this day as you and draco always spent saturdays hanging out with each other to catch up and relax after a stressful week.

your smile dropped when you saw astoria by his side in the common room. when you were told that draco had invited her to hang out with the two of you, you hadn’t said anything and dragged draco to your dorm.

“what’s wrong darling?” he inquired, worried about you as you stood with your arms crossed.

“I’ve barely seen you recently because you’re always hanging out with her, and the one time I finally get to see you, she’s there!” you didn’t mean to raise your voice, however your anger has been pent up for way too long.

“you’re over exaggerating,” draco stated, causing you to scoff.

“It just makes me sad sometimes, I’m starting to think you enjoy her company more than mine,” your voice broke and so did your heart as you thought about it, hoping it wasn’t true.

“you know, maybe I do enjoy her company more than yours. at least she’s not as annoying or dramatic as you.” you felt your heart drop upon hearing his words, tears threatening to fall out.

you opened your mouth to retaliate when you closed it, not wanting to dig an even deeper hole. “y-you’re right, I’m sorry.” your words contradicted your thoughts as you knew he was not at all right. you turned around, starting to play with the items displayed on top of your desk in attempt to distract yourself.

you took a few breaths to calm yourself. “you should go back down, I think I’m gonna stay behind, I just remembered I have a project to complete,” you came up with an excuse as the tears finally fell, wetting the parchment below you.

you waited for him to bid you goodbye, but instead you were met with the slamming of the door behind you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

you had managed to avoid draco for some time now, not being the confrontational type and unsure of what to do if you had talked to him. you were sure that he didn't mean what he said, yet again, life was always full of surprises.

for example, one night, he had surprised you as you entered your dorm to see him seated on your bed, waiting for your arrival.

"we need to talk," draco stood up as you avoided eye contact with him, not as comfortable being in his presence after what he had said about you.

"okay then, talk." you crossed your arms, still not prepared for the conversation waiting to unfold.

"I didn't mean what I said," so you were right. "I just had stress building up that whole week, and when you came at me I kind of freaked out."

you sighed, "that doesn't give you permission to take it out on me." your voice was so small and soft that it made draco feel even guiltier.

draco gulped, "I know it doesn't, and I'm sorry. it wasn't fair to you, and I should've just listened to you in the first place. I love you, y/n, and I wouldn't want to do anything that would jeopardize our relationship."

"I think we may have to work on that last bit," you jokingly tapped your chin in attempt to ease the tension as draco let out a small chuckle. moments of silence passed by as you stared down at the ground, gathering your thoughts as draco waited patiently for you to say what was on your mind.

"I forgive you, but..." draco's expression suddenly dropped as you let out a shaky breath. "I need you to give me some time, what you said really hurt me."

draco nodded, telling you he understood. "and I want you to take time to listen me next time and see things from my perspective. you can be friends with astoria but I think you need to set some boundaries." you started to bite down on your thumbnail, scared that you were asking for too much from him.

"of course, I already talked with her and we can take things as slow as you want," draco held open his arms as you slowly embraced and thanked him.

he pressed a loving kiss onto your forehead as the two of you continued to hold one another. pulling away, small smiles were worn on both of your faces, knowing that you guys would get through this little bump in the road.

[hoodoo12]

The Ties That Bind (And How to Follow Them) 4/?

@bunnys-beetlejuice-blog @werwulfy @turtlepated @strange-n-unbluusual @mel-time @fireflower1015 @go-whovian-universe @sweetcat-666 @genderless-cryptid @monsterlovinghours @heresathreebee @rainingpaint @infptarius

Pate was at a loss. She’d never seen Beetlejuice like this. His hair, already lightened to a pale green shot through with red and yellow and purple in his distress, blanched even further when she mentioned going to Lillian. That alone was enough to convince her that her mentor had somehow trapped him in this mirror-verse where he could see and hear but not be heard.

His increasing upset hurt her deeply, and when he suddenly disappeared from view her heart plummeted and she pressed herself to the glass, hoping to see what he was doing but without him in front of her her own reflection blocked her view. She wished she could reach him, hold him, soothe him, hating her own helplessness.

At length he came back, his pale face even more pale than normal, his ash colored hair still streaked to show his frustration and fear. He looked close to tears, and Pate wasn’t even sure he was capable of tears. His lips moved softly and though she couldn’t hear him the message was clear.

Pate offered him a thin smile and shook her head, pressing her palm to the glass again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she assured him. “Just give me one second to get my phone and I’m gonna call Lillian. She has to fix this. We’ll make her fix this.”

Keeping her eyes locked on his until the doorway and bedroom wall came between them, Pate dashed to the living room to retrieve her phone, hurrying back to the bathroom where Beetlejuice looked visibly relieved to see her return.

She thumbed through her contacts and smashed Lillian’s name, raising the phone to her ear. It was late, but Pate didn’t care if she woke Lillian up. The phone rang several times before it picked up.

“Hello? Pate? What are you doing calling this time of night?” Lillian asked.

“What did you do to him?” Pate demanded without preamble.

Lillian didn’t answer at first, and Pate heard what sounded like bedclothes being swept aside and a lamp being flicked on.

“I take it you mean the creature that invaded my kitchen,” Lillian finally drawled distastefully. “I did what you should have done, I sent him where he can’t harm anybody.”

“Beetlejuice wouldn’t hurt anybody anyway!” Pate insisted hotly. “He’s my . . . ” she trailed off, glancing at him in the mirror, knowing he could hear what she said. “He’s special. He’s important to me and I care about him,” she said. “You have to let him out. Or at least tell me how to and I’ll do it myself.”

Lillian sighed tiredly, as if she were dealing with a particularly exhausting situation. “Pate, whatever you think he means to you, the bottom line is he’s not human. He’s a demon, a wraith, a trickster. You’re better off without him.”

“I don’t care, tell me what to do to let him out.”

“No.”

The blunt refusal startled her. “You have to! You can’t leave him like this, stuck in my bathroom mirror!”

Speaking mostly to herself, Lillian said, “I should’ve figured he’d worm his way out. Should’ve sealed the mirror, too. Pate, nothing good can come of you having a live-in demon, I don’t care what feelings you might have about it. I’m going back to bed and that entity is staying right where he is. Good night.”

The line went dead. Angry, frustrated and panicked Pate immediately dialed again but it went straight to voicemail. Lillian had turned off her phone.

With a huff she slung her phone onto the counter, fixing Beetlejuice with a desperate expression.

“We’re gonna figure this out,” she said. “We’re gonna go over there and make her let you out.”

An idea struck her, and Pate crossed the room to the cabinets set into the wall, rifling through for what she was looking for. She turned back to Beetlejuice with a hand mirror.

“Do you think you can crawl into this mirror?” she asked. “Then I can take you with me.”

⁂

Out of all the crazy things they'd done together, crawling into a mirror that his lover held was barely a blip on the radar, even if she held it out in front of her or to her side as she walked. He wasn't incredibly excited about being shoved in a purse--or to see Ms. Lillian Borden again, truthfully--but he had no idea what else to do.

Beej heard the one-sided conversation Pate had had, had seen the quick look she’d sent his way before saying he was "special", and could only imagine what her mentor's response to that had been. He doubted anything Pate was going to tell her would make a difference. Still, it would be worth a shot to try and talk reason to the woman. He lifted his shoulder in a shrug as Pate displayed the mirror. He had no clue if her suggestion would work but was willing to try. Motioning her closer, she read what he meant and brought the mirror in her hand up to press against the glass of the bathroom counterpart. For a moment, all he could see was his own reflection. With deeper shadows under his eyes than normal and hair that was washed out more than colored, he looked worse than he thought.

Raising a hand as if to touch the mirror image, the interior surface of the mirror was tacky instead of smooth. It took a bit of effort to actually pull his hand back, and threads of what looked like spun glass, growing thinner the further away he pulled his hand, trailed from his fingertips. It seemed reluctant to let him go. If he was ruining Pate’s bathroom mirror, well, she mentioned in passing updating it anyway. Beej heard her asking what he was doing, if it was working, and decided it was better to just go for it and deal with consequences as they fell. With that determined spirit, he shoved his hand back through the glass. It felt as though he was pushing into molten, but cold, lava, all thick and clinging. Good thing he didn’t need to breathe, because it was going to take a moment to get through it and then get clean of it. Tentacles had to assist carrying him through the two layers of glass. Beetlejuice could only imagine what Lillian would think of those, chuckling to himself, then liquidish glass got in his mouth. There was nothing to do about it at the moment; trying to wipe it away would result in an arm moving backwards and that was not what he wanted right now! Finally, after more effort than he put into a lot of things, he managed to push himself into another endless white space. It didn’t look any smaller than the previous ones, and now he wondered how many compacts or other small mirrors he’d crawled through. The second his feet hit the ground and were free of the glass he found it was gone. There was no residue of any sort. Were all mirrors magic and just needed the right person to activate them? A question for Lillian, if she was willing to take questions from a pupil she seemed to like and a ghost she most definitely did not. Beetlejuice went to pound on the glass to alert Pate he’d moved, but the thought of getting snared by the inside of the new mirror gave him pause. He had to wait until she grew impatient and looked for herself.

⁂

Pate couldn’t help feeling a little foolish, standing with the small, round makeup mirror pressed against her medicine cabinet. Whatever Beetlejuice was doing, his reflection disappeared from the cabinet mirror to be replaced with her own.

Turning the smaller mirror around to face her, Pate beamed to see that the idea had worked, Beetlejuice looked out at her from the handheld mirror.

Wasting no more time she went back through into the bedroom, grabbed her wallet with her license inside from her purse, as well as her car keys.

“Let’s go see Ms. I-Know-What’s-Best-For-You Borden and get you back in the flesh,” she said, addressing Beetlejuice in the mirror as she locked her apartment door behind her.

What would it look like, she wondered, if someone saw her talking to the mirror?

Simple, she told herself. They’ll think you’re crazy. And maybe you are.

This time of night traffic was minimal and it didn’t take long to drive straight to Lillian’s downtown shop/apartment. Pate parked in a spot on the street, closing her door with perhaps a little more force than necessary, locking the car and cradling Beetlejuice’s mirror in her other hand.

There were internal steps up to Lillian’s apartment, but the shop was locked up at this hour. Pate rounded the building, heading for the fire escape. She had to set Beetlejuice down and climb up on a dumpster to reach the ladder, but after a few failed attempts she managed to pull it down with an earsplitting creak of protesting metal.

Retrieving the mirror that held her demon lover, Pate raced up the rickety steel steps as quickly as she dared, finding herself at Lillian’s sitting room window. She tried to open the window, finding it thankfully unlocked. She wouldn’t put it past Lillian to have some otherworldly impediments in place, designed to keep out apparitions but not people. Sliding the window open, Pate swung herself in one leg at a time.

“Lillian?” she called into the apartment, making no pretense at stealth. “Lillian, come out here and undo this.”

Pate didn’t hear that?! Maybe it was just spectral, maybe it was just something only people snared in tiny mirrors could hear, but the cries from inside the antique store from the various beings on the first floor were unnerving. Even the shriek of rusty metal joints on the fire escape moving after years of neglect was melodious compared to them. Something had happened. He didn’t know what, but Beej didn’t like it one tiny bit. He yelled at Pate to stop. Even at the top of his lungs she couldn’t hear him. Dredging up the deepest, most demonic voice he could had no effect. He was mute and helpless.

The television was on, I Love Lucy reruns flickering black and white with the volume low. Pate could see the top of Lillian’s head over the back of her recliner, facing away towards the TV. Angered by being ignored, Pate strode across the room, repeating her demand.

“Lillian, you tell me how to fix this. I don’t want Beetlejuice locked away, he’s -”

Pate cut off abruptly as she rounded the chair and saw the figure seated there.

Lillian Borden’s face was almost blue in the light from her TV, her eyes opened but staring unseeing at the ceiling, hands resting peacefully on the arms of her chair.

She was dead.

⁂ The scene inside the old woman’s apartment was nothing short of a horror movie set up. The lights were off, the room lit only by flickering from the television. Pate was demanding an answer and then a response. She stepped around the chair, and her hand dropped to her side as she choked her own sentence off, and her hand mirror slipped from her fingers, giving Beej a roller coaster ride as it fell, then a great view of the ceiling of the room when it hit the floor. If it was good or bad the glass didn’t break he’d never know, because Pate scooped him up almost as quickly as he’d fallen. Her apology he waved away as no worries, and she turned him towards her mentor in the chair. “Oh,” Beej said quietly at the sight of the dead woman. Now that posed something interesting. Never mind there was no way for her to undo the spell that trapped him in his current state, he didn’t sense her spirit or any evidence she drew a door and left the earthly plane. Of course, his view was limited to wherever Pate pointed his mirror. Or he’d been restricted by Lillian’s hasty capture of him somehow. Whatever it was, it warranted looking into once he was free again.

That was low on the priority list, however. He still needed out, and the woman who’d put him here was well past helping.

tbc . . .

[novelconcepts]

fic: she tells me worship (in the bedroom)

There are days, as the years burn away like so much kindling, where everything is the best it possibly could be. Days where Dani’s beast in the jungle is silent--maybe no longer there at all--and her demeanor is smooth and easy. She matches Jamie’s smile on these days, warm and light and happy, and Jamie can’t get enough. Could never ask for more than Dani in her best mood, Dani’s laugh the clearest bell in the room.

Those days are wonderful--but they are, of course, not the only sort. Natural enough, Jamie knows, for anyone, though maybe somewhat more of a concern for Dani. The days where Dani’s tensions run high are doubly-loaded, one part the natural discomfort of a bad day, one part Dani’s mounting fear of losing herself. 

You’re here, she tells Dani on days like this. You’re right here, with me, and you’re not going anywhere. 

Dani grits her teeth, furrows her brow, nods. Jamie pulls her close, still murmuring the words like an endless prayer. She’s not much for religion, Jamie; never much saw the point of asking for miracles from ghosts and gods. Bad days with Dani, though, are their own kind of religion. They form their own kind of belief, stretched between them, one that says Dani is here, Dani is strong, Dani is in control whether or not she feels it. 

There are good days, and there are bad days, and there are days like this whole week has been: middling days. Days where Dani is not fumbling away from her with breath whistling high and fast, but neither is she laughing. Days where Dani wakes with a grimace already on her lips, her temper short, her body clenched as she moves about the apartment. Jamie has learned to read these moods, has learned Dani doesn’t need her to ask questions or work to soothe her nerves. Dani in a mood like this is independence, so used to fighting the battle of her own bad day alone, she sometimes only feels worse if Jamie tries to take her hand. 

Jamie has learned, instead, to stand back a few steps. To keep her eyes on Dani’s expression, to keep her ears perked for a sign Dani is shifting toward something genuinely dark, something that will genuinely require Jamie to step in and catch her. Some days, it goes this way--a middling day turning without warning into bleak horror. Some days, she needs this of Jamie. 

Other days, she needs something else entirely. Something to turn a highly-strung afternoon into a pleasurable evening. Something to remind her, though she does not always have control over her mood, there are other things to grab hold of and use to her own ends. 

Jamie doesn’t mind in the least. 

***

She knows it will reach a breaking point eventually. There’s just a scent on the air when Dani is like this, no matter what image she’s projecting to the rest of the world--sooner or later, the smile will slip, the polite laugh will dry away, and there will be only Dani Clayton in all her magnificent frustration left. 

It’s really just a matter of waiting it out. 

In the meantime, there’s plenty to do. The shop is thriving; Jamie, who had spent most of that first year wanting to pull her hair out over numbers, is still not entirely convinced she can trust the implication that they are doing well. The odds of moving to America on a whim to start a flower shop that actually survives its first few years were slim; the fact that they are rapidly becoming a fixture of their small Vermont town, taking in larger swaths of customers every month, is baffling. 

It pleases Dani, too, she knows--most of the time. When Dani isn’t dealing with a customer like this one, a shrewd-eyed woman who calls into question Dani’s comprehension of her job at every other turn. 

“Anything I can help with?” Jamie asks, leaning around Dani with a surreptitious hand brushing her back. Dani shoots her a sharp look, a not now look, and she nods. 

“Right. Be in the back if you need me.”

Some days, if you need me is a call sign, an olive branch Dani grabs with greedy hands. Some days, after a customer like this one, Jamie finds herself propped against the back room table with Dani tearing at her zipper before she even realizes. 

Not today. Today, when she pokes her head back out to ensure Dani hasn’t actually murdered the old bat, she finds Dani already chatting with someone else. Politely. Smiling, even, though Jamie knows better than anyone what Dani’s barely-hanging-on smile looks like. 

“All good?” she murmurs as the new customer saunters away, careful not to so much as graze Dani. Mismatched eyes snag her gaze, Dani huffing out a breath. 

“Sometimes I wonder why we picked a job with so many people.”

“Be a lot more fun with just us,” Jamie agrees. “Though how we’d fit all those lovely pillows into a cardboard box, I couldn't say.”

Dani grants her a small laugh, barely enough for Jamie to coast on. It’s almost nothing, but it’s what Dani can manage today, and that’s fine enough. Jamie considers saying something else--telling Dani with words that she is here, that she can handle all the worst customers the day has to offer, that she doesn’t mind if Dani begs out early. Not that words matter most, with Dani. Words have never been the thing, where Jamie is concerned, for Dani.

“I’m all right,” Dani says, a bit stiffly. Jamie shuts her mouth, nods. 

“Sure. ‘Course you are. If you, ah, need me...”

It’s becoming a prayer of its own, she thinks sometimes, a plea to the part of Dani that desperately requires both hands on the wheel. If you need me. Which, no matter how it shows, Dani always does. Even on days like this, where Dani can’t quite fit right into her own skin, where Dani is trapped between normal human irritation and the mounting anger she carries for someone else. Dani always does need her. 

It’s just that that need doesn’t always look the same.

"What say we order in tonight?” Jamie asks as they’re closing up. “Throw on a movie?”

Dani shrugs. “Fine. Need to hit the grocery store first, though, we’re out of...a lot of things.”

“I can do it,” Jamie offers. Dani slides her a grateful smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“I’m fine, Jamie. I promise.”

“No, I know,” Jamie says, a bit too hurriedly to be believed. “Only--look, I know it’s been a hard week. I just...”

“Want to help,” Dani fills in when her voice trails awkwardly away. Jamie scrubs a hand down her face. 

“Yeah. But if I’m hovering, I don’t--”

Dani doesn’t quite touch her. Dani seems some days unable to touch her, or be touched, like she’s afraid basic physical contact will release the thing lurking inside. It’s the anger, she says, her voice strained with worry. It’s that rage. 

Won’t hurt me, Jamie says, with a confidence she has never been more sure of than while looking into Dani’s eyes. Wouldn’t ever. 

It’ll pass, she knows--in an hour, in a day, in a week. It’ll pass, and Dani will be back to her usual self once more, laughing, telling stories Jamie hasn’t yet had time to memorize, trailing her fingers across Jamie’s face. Back in the driver’s seat, as it were. The only thing in charge of her own choices.

She allows Jamie a brief kiss, the single negotiation made with her demons--there is never a time, no matter how she feels, or what petty argument they’ve had, where Dani does not kiss her goodbye. 

The apartment isn’t filthy, by any stretch, but certain things have fallen by the wayside over the course of a busy week. Jamie sets to work alone, humming her way through laundry collection--the pair of underwear beneath the couch offers a particularly pleasant memory: Dani stretched back against the arm, sighing as Jamie undressed her and settled in to explore--and stacking dishes in their proper places. Little things, she reminds herself. Little ways to make it easier on Dani until Dani can breathe easier all on her own. Jamie doesn’t mind doing the dishes, sweeping up, ensuring the plants are watered and the bathroom tissue is restocked. Dani does the same for her, when the roles are reversed. 

Dani does more for her than she seems to realize. Even down to holding herself apart this way, too afraid of crossing a line she can’t take back. Jamie wishes there were words to explain how much that means--how much Dani’s self-imposed protective qualities make Jamie feel as though no one has ever been more important. It means the world, and it makes her crazy all the same, because there is nothing she’d like more than to hold Dani close when she gets this way. 

I’m not sick of you, she thinks fiercely, stacking plates into the cupboard. Not now, not ever, Poppins, so when are you going to stop pushing me--

The key in the lock. She turns her head, watching Dani shove the door open, jerking her key back and forth to unstick it. “Hey, you’re back. Good. Was just tryin’ to decide what kind of pizza--”

She pulls up short, leaning back against the counter with a frown. There’s a look on Dani’s face, a strange tight look that instantly makes her wonder if things are worse than Dani has been letting on of late. 

“You all right? You look...”

Dani shakes her head, tosses her purse so hard, it bounces back off the couch. She doesn’t seem to notice, preoccupied with the tight clench of her fists, the stilted stride that carries her across to the kitchen to deposit paper bags across the counter in a careless mess.

“Dani, what happened?” There’s keeping her distance, and there’s keeping things from Jamie. The look on her face now, the sharp cut of her mouth, the taut clutch of her jaw, is just this side of worrying. “I need you to talk--”

Dani has her shirt in one hand, bunched in her fist, dragging her close. Jamie stares, her stomach giving an agreeable little lurch. 

“Did I do something?” she asks. Unlikely, sure, but always a possibility. Always possible there’s something she didn’t notice to make up for. 

Dani, though, shakes her head once. Her hand tightens, pulling Jamie forward, past the kitchen threshold to the living room rug. She stops, swaying slightly as though not entirely certain where she is. 

Jamie--growing less concerned, more intrigued by the second--hesitates. There are only so many outcomes, from this sort of greeting. Only so many outcomes from the way Dani is looking at her now, a sort of helpless tension held in every curve of her face. 

“Can...can I help now?” Jamie asks, half-expecting Dani to release her, to crumple, to open the door to whatever she’s been holding Jamie away from all week. It’s like this, sometimes. Dani, surrendering to her after days of miserably tending her own mental demons. Dani, falling into her with exhaustion. Sometimes. 

Not always. 

Dani is pushing her, she realizes, her hand dragging up Jamie’s front to grip her shoulder. The pressure she applies is surprisingly gentle, but too firm for Jamie to deny for anything but the best reason. She allows herself to sink, allows Dani to shove her down until her knees strike rug, until she’s staring with her head tipped back and her skin growing hot. 

There’s something about this view, she thinks, that will never grow old. Particularly with Dani looking at her this way, eyes stormy, brow creased with some combination of frustration and--

“Let me help,” Jamie says, half a suggestion, half a plea. She reaches a hand to Dani, giving her ample time to step back, to change her mind. Dani, instead, reaches to the hem of her own skirt, yanks it to her waist. 

“Please.”

One word, and Jamie’s whole body shudders. Dani’s hand slips up, skimming her cheek, delving into her hair. She’s staring at Jamie like a challenge, like a dare: love me now, her eyes seem to say. Love me like this. 

More than that, Jamie promises silently, pressing forward into her. There’s loving Dani, certainly--she’s happy to do it, privileged to do it, doesn’t even think about it anymore. There’s an instinct to loving Dani she gave into long ago, with no desire or intention of turning back. 

This, though. This is more than loving. This is the closest thing to religion she’s capable of, the closest thing to belief she can wrap her head around. Forced to her knees by Dani’s hand, moving to kiss Dani from this spot of supplication, is the truest kind of worship she's ever known how to give. 

Dani exhales above her, the breath leaving her in a rush as Jamie slides her hands up the backs of her thighs. Her skin still holds a chill from the early winter air, and Jamie lets her palms rest for a moment, giving Dani her own warmth as a gift of greeting. She peers up at Dani, watching her sway with anticipation, watching her gaze down that same scorching challenge: Love me like this. Even today. Even when I can’t love myself. 

She presses a kiss, small and sweet and barely anything at all, to the crest of Dani’s underwear. Dani makes a low noise in her throat, something shaky, palming the back of her head in an effort to push her closer. Fast, she recognizes--Dani wants her fast, rough, to demolish the day’s shadows in no time at all. 

Dani wants it that way--but it isn’t what she needs. Jamie tilts her head, brushes against Dani with her nose, moves to kiss the inside of one thigh instead. She feels Dani’s hand loosen, allowing her the freedom, and she takes it with glee. Each kiss is small, gentle, a bare approximation of what Dani is asking of her, but with each press and release of her lips on Dani’s skin, she feels some of the tension go out of Dani’s grip. Dani, who has spent all day strung tighter than Jamie could possibly know, and who could demand more of Jamie now, sighs. 

She doesn’t beg. Doesn’t even speak. Only splays her fingers across the back of Jamie’s skull, her palm resting at the crown of Jamie’s head, letting her go where she will. Trusting that Jamie, taking her time with every kiss, smoothing her hands down to cup behind Dani’s knees, dragging her nails lightly down Dani’s calves, knows how to read her. 

Control, thinks Jamie, as she so often does in moments like this. Given freely, it’s an intoxicant all its own. 

There’s something about the way Dani trembles when she opens her mouth against smooth skin, when she runs her tongue in a slow, gentle arc up toward the juncture of Dani’s pelvis. Something about the tightening of Dani’s hand in her hair that makes her feel more alive than she ever does walking the world. 

She’s giving the same treatment to Dani’s other leg, tracing one hand lightly around her kneecap, digging her nails gently in, when Dani utters her first low moan. Jamie smiles into her skin. 

“Yes?”

“Didn’t ask you to talk,” Dani says, though Jamie can hear her smile. She slides a hand higher, gripping the underside of one thigh, digging her thumb in. 

“Didn’t ask for much, from what I recall. Bit demanding, Poppins.”

“If you’re complaining,” Dani says, “I can just take care of it myself.”

“Not like I can,” Jamie points out, and Dani grips harder, yanking her head back. She gives a hiss of pleasure. “Oh, you’re not denying it.”

“You,” Dani points out with an arch of her brow, “are denying me.”

“Let me back to it, then.” She’s playing with fire. She’s playing with fire, and Dani could turn the tables at any moment, could push her away and decide she isn’t in the mood after all. 

Dani, to the contrary, gives her a smile that makes her glad she’s already on her knees. Her hand flexes in Jamie’s hair, wrenching her forward without warning, and Jamie groans against her, biting gently through the fabric of underwear that, already, is considerably wetter than it had been. This, she thinks, should have been their entire day. Their entire week. Dani gripping her skirt in one hand, Jamie’s hair in the other, already revolving her hips gently to meet the slow press of Jamie’s tongue. 

“Tease,” Dani sighs, as she circles, wraps her mouth around already-straining nerves, sucks lightly through sticky cotton. “Fuck.”

Jamie smiles against her, pleased; Dani already swearing is a sign she’s been looking for this longer than she maybe even realized. Her hand presses Jamie in, her legs spreading slightly to give Jamie more space, and Jamie takes what she’s granted willingly. She’s kissing Dani with slow, heady abandon, eyes closed, aware with every small jolt of Dani’s hips that this is exactly where she ought to be. It’s easy to lose herself here, in the rock of Dani meeting her every stroke, in the taste of Dani soaking through thin fabric onto her tongue. She takes the edge of Dani’s underwear between her fingers, pulls it aside, uttering a low sound of pride at what she’s already accomplished. 

“Enough?” she asks politely, and Dani makes a breathless sound of aggravation above her. She bows back in, stretching the fabric away from where it belongs, letting her fingers graze slickly along Dani only once. Dani jerks. 

She could stay here, she thinks. Stay here on her knees, holding Dani in helpless limbo, forever. Stay here, feeling Dani’s gaze on her, feeling Dani’s desperation to push her closer coming up hard against her desire to let Jamie choose how this plays out. She’s never sure what will win, with Dani in a mood like this. 

“Jamie.” Not pleading, not yet, but slightly choked all the same. Her hand smooths down the back of Jamie’s head, urging her closer, and Jamie presses back into her palm for a beat. Just a few seconds of fighting the push, her fingers grazing back and forth--stroking once across skin, back across fabric, feeling Dani throb against her fingertips. 

“Jamie.” That was pleading. She slides her hands up, pulls the underwear down, supporting Dani as she steps out and all but crashes into Jamie’s mouth once more. 

That was pleading, and this is worship: sinking into Dani in every way that matters. She traces Dani with the tip of her tongue, curling when Dani sighs, stroking when Dani whimpers. The taste of her is overwhelming, drawing aside her own restraint a little at a time, and Jamie reminds herself exultation should not be rushed, benediction cannot be forced. True worship, true belief, is a slow, deliberate thing, inching ever nearer to something huge and glorious and well-earned. 

Dani’s nails dig hard into her scalp, scraping under her hair until she parts her lips around swollen nerves in a sharp sigh of pleasurable pain. Dani is making sounds of her own, muffled sounds against the clench of her teeth even as she’s grinding harder to meet every swipe of Jamie’s tongue. She sucks more forcefully, adds a gentle scrape of teeth that makes Dani twitch violently beneath her. A pounding heat between her own thighs gives a particularly sharp pulse, and Jamie welcomes it, welcomes it as she explores the familiar map of Dani soaking into her lips. 

She’s here, she tells herself, validated by every sound from Dani’s lips. She’s here, all of her. She imagines what she must look like now, her head bobbing between Dani’s legs as she twists and angles to offer every last inch of pleasure. What she must look like to Dani, with her eyes lidded and her body bucking, Dani who drives a hand against her head, pulling her hair hard to show Jamie exactly where she’s most needed. What must this look like: Jamie’s own hips rocking hopelessly against nothing, her hands occupied with holding Dani upright as the strength slides from her knees. She is the only thing keeping Dani here, keeping Dani in place, keeping Dani from collapsing to the floor in a heap. 

Dani is making breathless, almost keening sounds, pumping her hips hard to match the flick and roll of Jamie’s tongue. Jamie opens her eyes, leans back, letting the contact go just long enough to take Dani in: head thrown back, the cords of her neck standing out, trying with everything in her to keep her volume down. 

Let them hear you, Jamie thinks, delving in again with rough, reckless strokes. Let them fucking know. She’s moaning herself, unable to stop, unable to control her own voice as Dani grips her tight, thrusting to match her with frantic, nearly-there energy. 

Her fingers tremble, the desire to slide into Dani almost too strong to ward off. She resists. This is what they both need, instead, this urging of Dani over the edge with nothing more than what Jamie has already promised. Just the art of taking Dani into her mouth, drawing her tight, feeling her wind higher and higher as her hands glide through Jamie’s hair, catching, yanking. Nearly there, she knows, from Dani half-groaning her name. Nearly there, and it’s a shame to let it end, a shame to know this is not a permanent fixture of life, being on her knees in front of Dani Clayton. 

Dani is shuddering, crying, “There--there--fuck.” Jamie presses her tongue flat, gives a final broad stroke that sends Dani tumbling, each pulse against Jamie’s mouth feeling a little more like triumph. She keeps going even as Dani is slowing, even as Dani’s rough grip in her hair is loosening to something soft, something tender. 

“Jamie, I--I--”

Jamie is one long open kiss, warm and wet and needy in her own right, working a hand up the inner slope of her thigh, and now she is teasing with her fingers, now she is offering Dani this added gift, and Dani is making a high, surprised, wanting sound above her. 

“Jamie--” 

Tell me, Jamie commands silently, and Dani is so open, Dani is so wet, Dani is beyond ready even as she’s begging. She slides inside, eyes rolling back in her head when Dani clutches immediately around her, legs nearly buckling as Jamie curls fingers and tongue in the same action. 

She drops her skirt at last, closing both hands around Jamie’s head to ride this second climax to its height. Jamie, eyes closed, is not sure she needs anything but this to feel at home. Nothing but Dani shuddering around her, Dani arching to take her deeper. Nothing but Dani, letting her in. 

She leans her head against Dani’s hip, breathing hard, letting the skirt fall back into place. Dani, still trembling, wraps her arms around Jamie as best she can, leaning her head back and sighing. 

“I’m--”

“Good,” Jamie says, not much interested in an apology or an embarrassed explanation. She licks her lips, runs the back of her hand across her mouth, tilts her head to look up into Dani’s still-dazed face. “You’re good, Dani. All good.”

She stands, takes Dani’s face in her hands, runs her fingers along Dani’s parted lips. Dani smiles, tongue darting out to curl around one finger and Jamie makes a softly wanting sound against her own will. 

“You’re all right now?” she asks, her voice husky. Dani closes her eyes, nods, kisses her way along Jamie’s fingers until they’re clean. Then she’s kissing Jamie with all the quiet fever of a week spent staring into the shadows of her own head, pulling Jamie backward toward the couch, sinking down as the last of the strength finally goes out of her legs. 

She won’t talk about it--not now, not yet, not with her hand urgent against Jamie’s zipper. She won’t talk about it as she palms Jamie through her jeans, rubbing in hard strokes while Jamie sinks back against the couch and groans. She won’t talk about it, bending over Jamie to kiss her hard, slipping her hand into Jamie’s underwear and stroking, pinching, driving her toward a dazzling conclusion of her own. 

Later, maybe. Another night, maybe. This night, the push and pull of it, the teasing angle of her bent over Jamie with her hair curtaining them both and her smile welcoming Jamie to kiss her to completion all over again, was not made for that. This night is for Jamie to remind her of what is most important: that even on her worst day, even fed up with the world or the beast in the jungle, there is no enough for Jamie. There is no end, no exit, no edging away. 

She holds her close, arm around her waist as she pushes desperately up into Dani’s hand, understanding in some distant way that there is no such thing as too much where Dani is concerned. There is no darkness in Dani that can scare her off, no lack of control in Dani that doesn’t make her want to lead Dani back to a place of authority over her own life. There is nothing except Dani, striding into the room and forcing her to her knees; Dani, losing herself in the slide of her lips; Dani, needing and being needed. 

Let me in, she thinks with sleepy hope, as Dani kisses her and nestles against her side. Let me in, let me help you. I can give it back when she takes it away. 

She’ll say it, someday. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next year. She’ll say it, and Dani might even believe. 

In the meantime, she doesn’t mind this, the devoted worship of one who has never loved like she loves this woman. She doesn’t mind Dani being unable to ask. She doesn’t mind Dani’s fierce need coming to call. 

It’s mutual, she thinks as she dozes with Dani in her arms. It’s everything. 

[amillionsmiles]

in your bedroom after the war (Dick/Artemis)

Title: in your bedroom after the war Summary: As far as coping mechanisms go, Artemis could be doing worse. At least her method has a gymnast’s ass. / Post-Invasion, pre-Outsiders. Rated M.  A/N: I have one (1) agenda and that is messy grieving fuck buddies who are each other’s ride-or-dies. if you are not into fic that sits squarely in sad feral horny territory, then this is probably not your speed.

[Read and review here] or continue under the cut.  

| GOTHAM

| JANUARY 14, 2017; 12:05 AM EST

Artemis is a bit heavier than she was in her teenage years, but her feet land lightly on the fire escape by the window. An hour ago, she’d called her mom from Metropolis, promising she’d be home by midnight. Ever since her daughter faked her death a year ago, Paula Nguyen has become even more of a worrywart, and Artemis knows that the five minutes she’s running late are going to cause her to receive an earful.

“Didn’t think I’d see you back in this neck of the woods.” A familiar figure drops from the roof above onto the rung below her.

“Nightwing.”

She’s not surprised that he’s been keeping tabs. Officially, he’s been on a leave of absence for the past six months, but Dick, like her, is vigilant in his grief.

She’d come back to Gotham because it put her closer to Metropolis and Beta Squad’s continued investigation of LexCorp, but the truth is that she could have Zeta-tubed from Palo Alto easily. Their—her—apartment had been no good though, not without Wally. So she’d left most of her things in storage to figure out later and moved back in with her mom. On days when Artemis can’t muster the energy to get out of bed, Paula wheels determinedly around the kitchen, ready to whip up some mì xào  or a warm bowl of  mì gói.  They play card games and laugh about how bad Wally was at tiến lên the first time Paula tried to teach him. Your boy has no patience, he always wants to play his strongest cards right away, her mom had teased, and Wally had protested, I make it a rule to always put my best foot forward! and Artemis had loved him even more then.

Loved. Loves. She hates the past tense.

“I mean, were you ever going to ask me to grab coffee?”

She can see the bits of Wally in his cracks. In a room together, it was always easy to tell they were best friends from the way they riffed off each other. The acrobat and the speedster: all verbal gymnastics and fast-moving quips. But unlike Wally, who liked poking fun because he liked getting attention, Dick is at his wittiest when trying to avoid talking about himself.

Artemis reaches out and pulls him to sit down beside her. She makes a show of looking at her watch.

“How’s… 12:15 AM this Saturday?”

Dick pretends to check it against his mental schedule. If his is anything like hers, it probably goes: Wake up. Exercise (beating up bad guys counts). Mourn.

“Yeah, seems like I can swing it.”

“Perfect,” says Artemis, sliding up the glass panes to let them into her childhood bedroom. “I’ve got just the stuff.” 

*

In the kitchen, Brucely stirs briefly from his dog bed to sniff the air and  yip, then curls back asleep. Paula hands Dick a mug, waiting for him to take a sip before saying, “So you were the one who had the brilliant plan to have my daughter fake her death.” 

Dick splutters; from the table, Artemis rises to his defense. “Mom,” she says. “Leave him be.”

Setting his cup down, Dick leans against the cabinets, bending his head slightly and rubbing the back of his neck. He does a good job of appearing chastised, and Artemis wants to roll her eyes, if only because she’s heard from Bette and Raquel that this pose is far too effective at convincing women to want to forgive him or try again.

“I’m not leading much of anything these days, if that’s at all a comfort to you.”

“Hmph.” Paula sniffs. “You live alone?”

“Yeah.” Dick shoots Artemis a questioning look over her mom’s head. Artemis shrugs.

“What do you do to fill the time?”

“A lot of reading. Gotham’s library system actually has a pretty good selection, believe it or not. I’ve also gotten really into meditating.”

“And you don’t sleep.”

Dick stiffens. For the first time, he looks exposed, a boy with too much guilt and too much time on his hands.

“I do. Tonight I was just… restless.”

Paula nods and backs up her wheelchair so she can sit by Artemis, curling her fingers over Artemis’s hand and squeezing. She raises her drink, Artemis and Dick following suit, the three of them toasting to invisible losses.

“Aren’t we all.”

*

Later, back on the fire escape, Dick taps his fingers against the railing, jittery. “I feel like I need to start doing jumping jacks. What was in that stuff?”

Artemis bites back a smile. “Yeah, Vietnamese coffee packs a hit. That’s my bad. Probably should have given you something non-caffeinated at this hour.”

“It’s fine. I’ll jog it out, or something.” He turns to go, but Artemis stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, listen—it was good seeing you tonight. And if you need someone to talk to…” What she really means is: it’d be nice to be around someone who’s hurting as much as I am. Not to say that the rest of the team wasn’t as torn up over Wally’s death, but she and Dick had been ground zero. Closest to the blast.

After a pause, Dick nods. “Yeah… I could use a sparring partner, actually. I’ll send you an address.”

“Okay.” Satisfied, Artemis withdraws her hand, curling her fingers into her palm.

It feels like a start.

*

Dick’s directions lead Artemis to Wayne Manor; from there he takes her to the Bat Cave.

“I thought you were striking out on your own,” Artemis says, using her forearms to deflect a kick to her face. Dick grunts and recovers, throwing a punch to her stomach; she dances out of the way.

“I am. I just pop in here from time to time because Bruce has better equipment. Plus there’s less of a chance of me disturbing the neighbors.” He gestures to the eerily blue-lit stone walls around them.

Artemis feints and goes low, ducking under Dick’s guard. Two quick hits to Dick’s sternum pushes him back, before he gets a hand on her wrist and twists her around so that her back is pressed against his chest.

“Weren’t we supposed to be talking?”

Kicking his shin, Artemis breaks free. “All right, fine. I’ll start.”  Jab.  “I keep wanting a scapegoat.”  Kick.  “Like, one person to blame, instead of something as big as the Reach. But it’s not some giant revenge thing, and I know Wally wouldn’t want me to go down that sort of all-consuming rabbit hole even if it was, and that pisses. Me. Off.” On those last words, she manages to use Dick’s momentum against him and flips him over her shoulder.

For a minute, it’s so quiet between them she can hear the faint plip of water dripping from a stalactite into the water below the sparring dais. Still lying on the floor, Dick confesses, “I keep hearing him.”

“I make a joke to myself and he’s there, in my ear, with the punchline. And then…” He passes a hand over his face.  “And then I realize that the real punchline is him being gone.”

Slowly, Artemis approaches him. She feels like she did when they were undercover at Haly’s circus so many years ago, that brief moment of hangtime before their hands connected in the air. She means to sit down next to him, pat his shoulder, she doesn’t know what, but instead Dick sweeps her legs out from under her and she goes down hard, the air whooshing out of her chest as she falls flat on her back.

“Agh!” The release sets something loose inside her. Next thing she knows, she’s yelling again, louder, just because.

Dick catches on and then it’s just the two of them shouting, their voices echoing through the cavern, threading around and piling atop each other like a flock of birds. After they’re done, Dick rolls so that they’re lying side by side.

“You know, when we were starting out—when we first became friends—I used to make fun of Wally that if he kept talking so much while running he was bound to swallow more bugs, or something. And he’d just shoot back like, ‘Nah dude, you think I’m not fast enough to see them and dodge them in the air?’ But you know how he was always so hungry after missions? One time I was so mad at him I put a bug in his sandwich. I’ve never forgotten the look on his face after he bit into it and I said, dodge that.”

“You didn’t.” Artemis gasps and covers her mouth, horrified, but she can see it so vividly: the colors draining from Wally’s face, making his freckles pop even more against his skin, the same greenish tint his cheeks took the time they went to Vietnam and he got food poisoning. He’d spent two days feverishly glaring up at the mosquito netting, and Artemis had draped cold hand towels over his forehead and promised she wasn’t going to leave him for the very obliging boy who kept bringing them ice.

“I did.” Dick is gleeful. “Really put the ‘rank’ in prank.”  

Artemis snorts; the snort turns into a full-blown guffaw. Dick turns toward her, laughing too. His hair is matted with sweat but still soft; it brushes against her forehead.

It feels so good to be close to someone again, to be able to flip on a dime from sadness to frustration to anger to laughter and not have to explain herself. She can’t remember the last time she smiled and didn’t feel guilty about it, and she means it more affectionately than anything when she reaches over and brings Dick’s mouth to hers, like if she inhales whatever they’ve temporarily managed to create here between them, it’ll be enough to tide her over for the next few months. For a second, he’s warm and responsive, before his lips stiffen and he pulls back.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

Shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t.  Shouldn’t beat yourself up about it, shouldn’t blame yourself for getting back in the game.  Artemis is sick of people telling her how to deal, how it’s supposed to go.  It’ll get better and then it doesn’t. People talk like there are guidebooks for this kind of shit, like it’s a marathon she just needs to pace herself through. And it’s the stupidest thing, but she misses being held.

She sits up and crosses her arms, resisting the urge to curl in on herself. “You didn’t do anything. I’ll go.”

“No, Artemis, wait, I don’t think you should go, I just want to understand what’s going on—”

“I want you to touch me, okay?” she explodes. “I want you to touch me because he’s never going to again and I know you loved him too and—and maybe if it’s you, I won’t feel so desperately alone.”

Dick looks stricken, and then, hesitantly, he reaches for her. His eyes are so blue, the kind of crushed eggshell you’d use to make a paint. “You’re not alone.”

“Prove it,” she says, vision blurring with tears—wanting, needing him closer, and then his hairline is up against hers again and his nose is at her cheek, his mouth at her jaw, soft but with a willingness to bruise. Don’t ask me what we’re about to do, Artemis silently begs, and Dick doesn’t.

 *

 Wally had been a restless lover. Always turning them over, switching positions. Artemis had taken it as a challenge, part of the ongoing competition that defined their relationship. Deep down, she’d known that Wally would be just as content if the rest of their sex life consisted solely of spooning gently on Sundays, which, if anything, was why she’d been so eager to experiment—because it felt like an easy gift she could give, not something she had to master to “maintain excitement” or make him stay.

She’s not sure what she expected from Dick. Maybe that’s a comfort—that she wasn’t fantasizing before they happened, wondering about all the mechanics of how it would go. Dick lets her call the shots, lets her ride him into the ground, the grip of his fingers around her thighs the only reminder she isn’t just angling toward oblivion. When he presses his thumb between her legs, it’s a weird sort of anchor—like hearing a voice pick up on a line you thought was dead. She has a body, and here’s someone on the other end of it, caring about her release. As soon as that thought hits, the relief shudders through her; she keeps rocking long enough to feel Dick follow, a stutter and a grunt, before she collapses boneless over him, the sweat of his skin a comforting stickiness against her cheek.

Internally, she apologizes to Bruce for desecrating his training space. Then again, they’re hardly the first of the Justice League to get handsy in less than appropriate places. She’s seen how Black Canary and Green Arrow act around each other.

Below her, Dick catches his breath. The rush of blood—his or hers—is loud in her ears.

“I didn’t think you’d be so…”  Giving, she means to say, but it gets lost on her tongue. “I mean, Zatanna…” she trails off again.

If Dick’s embarrassed at the prospect of his ex-girlfriend having blabbed about the details of their sex life to Artemis, he doesn’t show it. His fingers find a snag in her hair; gently, he works it loose. The air smells hedonistic. He keeps combing. Nice is the only word she can think to describe it, and that makes her want to cry again, so she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his chest.

Dick pauses his ministrations. He flattens his palm against the base of her neck and just—holds her there.

“Don’t mention it.”  

When she goes home that afternoon to shower, she runs the water on full blast for a long time.

 *

 Armed with Chinese food, she visits Dick’s place the next day intent on making amends. Dick doesn’t even act surprised; he just points to the glass coffee table where she can set the bag of chopsticks, napkins, and takeout.

“I’m trying to decide what to watch.”

There’s really no need for him to stand in front of the TV the way he does, one hand propped on his hip as he clicks through options with the remote. Artemis lets herself ogle, a bit. The surest way to blow past what happened between them yesterday is to be honest with herself, right? And as far as coping mechanisms go, Artemis could have done worse. At least her method has a gymnast’s ass.

“Any preferences?”

“Between what?” asks Artemis, cracking open the carton of lo mein and settling back against the cushions. The Netflix suggestion algorithm onscreen paints a condemning picture of Dick’s tastes. “True crime or… true crime?”

Wally had been really into nature documentaries. One time during freshman year, when they were still living on Stanford’s campus, they’d gotten high in Wally’s dorm room and watched Blue Planet. Wally had cried when the seal got flung apart by killer whales.

“I’ll Be Gone in the Dark it is, then,” says Dick. He settles next to her on the couch, peeling back one of the orders and sniffing its contents. “What’s this one?”

“Salt and pepper ribs. They were today’s special.”

“Artemis.” Dick beams. “You really do care about me.”

 *

 Ten minutes into the episode begs a single question: “Isn’t it sort of depressing that you spend so much of your day fighting crime, and then you go home to unwind and just watch… more of it?”

Dick shrugs. “It keeps me sharp. And it’s nice seeing other people solve problems.”

“Well, if you ever feel like branching out, there’s a short film about Rubik’s cubes you might like.” Artemis nudges his side. “Remember when you were a scrawny math geek?”

Bringing both hands behind his head, Dick smirks. “Still a math geek. Just not scrawny.”

Artemis stares. That was just a bit of friendly showboating, right? Or was it a flirt? Not trusting herself, she whips her gaze back toward the TV. What feels like eons later, the credits roll.

“Artemis,” Dick says, too soft for having just finished a show about murder. He taps the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got some food stuck.”

She wipes with the back of her hand; a breaded piece of orange chicken emerges as the culprit. Without thinking, she flicks it off, sending it flying somewhere onto Dick’s carpet.

“Oops.”

Chuckling, Dick shakes his head. “I need to vacuum tomorrow, anyways.”

The mention of tomorrow stirs her. “Right. I should head out.”

“Yeah.” Dick rises to help her clean up their mess, holding open the plastic bag so she can toss in the soiled napkins and other bits of trash. “Or—”

He hesitates, but the hesitation’s enough. It might as well be a hand on her wrist, with how it stops her in her tracks. All night, despite what she told herself, she’s been looking for proof: proof that his aloneness fits the shape of hers, that he needs her, too. This time, Dick makes the first move—cups her face in both hands and kisses her, slow and deep and full of heat. Some pepper from the food they ate still lingers on his lips, making her mouth tingle, and Artemis is dizzy and flat on her back on the couch before she knows it, giving in.

Not scrawny at all, she thinks, admiring the solidness of Dick’s knees on either side of her, the weight of his frame as they grind together. The sheer mechanics of it feel very horny-teenager-after-prom, but the way Dick sucks her bottom lip and swallows her breath down with it is decidedly adult.  These days, Artemis practically lives in her sports bra, which doesn’t exactly grant easy access, but when Dick’s fingertips skim over the cotton covering her breasts the sensation zings all the way down her spine.

“Need… off…”

“Yeah,” Dick murmurs, humming as he moves down the column of her neck. “Gimme a sec, I’m working on it.”

She’d worn sweats because she figured their bagginess would keep her from sparring again and any potential… situations that could arise from that. Instead, all it means is Dick unties the drawstrings easily, sliding her pants down her legs. Cool air brushes across her as he shifts positions; she wants to sob in relief. His teeth graze her hip and then catch the edge of her panties and—oh. Fuck. The moan tears out of her and she scrabbles at the armrest, hips rising of their own accord. Next time, she is handcuffing Dick to a bed, because what he’s doing with his tongue and fingers should be illegal. She can feel him grinning, the bastard, and the only thing keeping her from crushing his head to a pulp between her thighs is the maneuver he pulls where he hooks her knees over his shoulders, so he can change the angle and plunge in deeper. Artemis shoves the edge of her T-shirt into her mouth at the last minute, only barely managing to muffle her cry.

Dick surfaces from his solo mission looking entirely too satisfied, mouth glistening. Trembling, still, from her orgasm, Artemis squints at him, possessed by some combination of unbridled lust and rage.

“Dick.”

“You calling, or asking?”

“Shut up,” she hisses. She feels like a newborn foal, after what he just did to her, but the urge to dismantle him just as thoroughly sends her surging upward and pushing him back. Dick welcomes their reversed positions by peeling off his shirt and tossing it over his shoulder, all while Artemis works furiously at his belt. It shouldn’t feel so good, to hear the metal clink against his button and watch the leather slide through the loops. To see the shadows the light of the TV casts on him—the lashes on his cheeks, the hollow of his throat. Artemis hadn’t paid much attention the first time, too desperate and caught up a bit in self-loathing, but now she’s actually enjoying this, savoring the flex of Dick’s abs as he pushes up to meet her, his skin pebbling at her touch.

“I’m going to take you apart,” she purrs.

Dick groans and bucks. The sensation sends a sharp spike of pleasure through her, and she clamps down on him tighter, refusing to yield.

“Try me, Tigress,” he rasps, pushing himself up on one arm so he can mouth at her collarbone. With his other hand, he pulls off her hairtie so her hair comes free of her ponytail, and this is going to be a thing with him, isn’t it, him wanting to fuck her while her hair swings loose around her face. She indulges him for a few minutes, claws his back and bites his shoulder for good measure, but then she’s pushing him back down and stretching out her body as languidly as possible to remind him who’s boss. Their pace slows. Dick keeps a hand fisted in her hair, so he can tug her head back in order to keep her neck exposed to his wanton mouth, but his grip gets less sure the closer she pushes him to the edge.

“Art—” says Dick, the single syllable like a painting pinned to the wall, fraught with desire, and then he just lets it drop, the tresses of her hair falling through his fingers. She wants to tell him that he’s beautiful, that he does look like a boy wonder, right then, in the midst of coming undone, chest flushed and hair mussed and pupils blown nearly wide enough to overtake the blue.

She doesn’t, but she stays the night, and that’s close enough.

 *

  High-functioning, Artemis’s therapist had called her, before Artemis moved back to Gotham. And it does feel like a high—the sneaking around, the after-hours meet-ups, the back-and-forth. There’s no one really keeping tabs on her, though Artemis has plenty of cover stories if anyone asks (new intel, side reconnaissance, etcetera, etcetera). Her mom eyes her and says, “As long as you’re not planning on staging your own death again, because I will find out and I will kill you this time,” and that’s that. Artemis nearly laughs. If anything, what she’s doing is the opposite, a small resurrection. An entire month and a half passes this way: day trips and dinners and movie nights and Dick and her in a bathtub, in the shower, against a wall. She even wears a gown and heels once, not because they have an actual event to attend, but because Dick has a fantasy that involves taking her from behind in the Wayne Manor library.

They’re in his apartment on a Sunday morning bathing in the afterglow, sheets tangled around their waists. Thank god Dick is one of those assholes that splurged on not only a nice mattress but also a solid bed frame. Artemis reaches over to push the hair out of his eyes. The black tuft on the back of his head that she likes grabbing is fluffed up like a duck's tail, and under the sunlight slanting through the windows, he looks angelic.

“Are you falling back asleep?”

Yawning, Dick snags her around the waist, dragging her to him. She should not delight this much in being manhandled.

“You wore me out,” he complains, tucking his chin over her shoulder.

“They just don’t make them like they used to,” Artemis sighs. Dick growls a little at the dig, fingers tightening against her hip.

Well. If he’s going to nap, she is, too. Comfortably spooned, she snuggles back against him, prepared to drift off.

“Do you think Wally would have wanted…” Dick doesn’t finish the thought.

Artemis turns in his arms. Dick has long eyelashes, and he’s looking at her through them almost bashfully. She places a hand on his chest. Feels his heartbeat thump once, twice.

“I think he would want us to be happy.”

“Are you?” Dick’s voice fades out and he has to swallow hard to clear his throat. “Happy?”

“I’m not… miserable.” 

Dick runs his hand up her bare arm, over her shoulder. “Me neither.”

“You know, Wally and I thought…” She bites her lip, remembering a whoosh of air, Wally speeding to her side to kiss her and interrupting her report on the disabled Paris MFD.  I know we promised each other we’d get out of this game, but maybe we can have our life together and play hero, too.  “We thought we’d have everything.”

Dick’s response isn’t mournful; it’s matter-of-fact. “After my parents died, I never really convinced myself that I could have it all.”

“That sounds like something Batman would say.”

“Does it?”

“A little.”

Once upon a time, Artemis had stood before the team ready to lay bare her darkest secret, waiting to be kicked out. And Dick had shown his hand: he’d known from the beginning and hadn’t cared.  You aren’t your family. You’re one of us. She knows he’s second-guessed himself over the years, wondering how fit he actually is to play leader. But for her, trust has always been the easiest thing about the two of them. It was why she’d said yes so easily to his deep cover mission—because she knew that he wouldn’t quit until he’d brought all of them home, that he would do whatever he could to keep them safe.

Taking his face in both her hands, she looks deep into his eyes. “You deserve good things, Dick Grayson.”

“Mm.” Dick smiles into her kiss, hooks his ankle over hers. “Keep telling me that. I’ll start to believe it.”

 *

 Jade abandons Will and Lian on a Tuesday, and Artemis’s carefully crafted equilibrium falls apart. At least this time she’s not the one directly being left, unlike when she was a teenager. Her expectations of her older sister had hardly been high, but if she’d plotted them on a graph they’d have trended upward. Now they’ve tanked.

“Did she leave any hint of where she was going?” Dick asks over the whir of his juicer. He’s gotten really into squeezing oranges lately; Artemis can’t complain because he always gives her the first glass.

“It’s Jade. She never wants to be found, and I hardly think she’s about to try an  Eat Pray Love type thing.”

“Eat Slash Steal, maybe?” Dick offers, dropping two ice cubes into a drink and setting it in front of her.

Artemis sips, balling up a napkin and throwing it at him at the same time. “Watch it, that’s still my family you’re talking about.”

“I’m sorry. How’s Will taking it?”

“As well as any dad trying to raise a two-year-old by himself would.”

“So, poorly.” Dick taps his finger against the table. “Are they coming here?”

Artemis looks at him blankly. “Why?”

“I figured they might want to be closer to you and your mom now that Jade’s gone. Gotham’s not so bad—you and I turned out fine. And Will probably needs to look into preschools and a babysitter for Lian soon. If you move in with me, you can bring her over whenever.”

The last piece of information slips in so casually she thinks she’s misheard. “What?”

“If you move in with me, you can bring Lian over whenever,” repeats Dick. “This place is as good as yours. You’re over here all the time anyway.”

Suddenly, she can’t breathe. “You’re serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She can’t meet his eyes. “W—Will’s home is in Star City. He’s not going to move.”

Slowly, Dick says, “Okay. But my offer doesn’t really depend on Will.”

Her stuff is still in boxes. She’s still paying for a storage unit almost 3,000 miles away. And Dick is waiting on her so intently it makes her chest hurt.

Artemis stands up. “We’re not doing this.”

Dick’s eyebrows rise. Annoyance, or maybe anger, flickers across his face. “You wanna fill me in on what exactly it is we’re doing, according to you?”

“We’re not going to fight about this like we’re…”  In a relationship. In love. In anything other than a messy configuration started by shared grief. She doesn’t say any of it out loud, but she doesn’t need to—Dick’s always been great at reading people, and he’s known all her tells from the start.

“Right.”  The single syllable comes out as cold and pointed as an icicle. He pushes his chair back from the table and stands up. The clouds are rolling in, throwing shadows across his features. Even now, Artemis wants to kiss him, wants to be the one to smooth the furrow between his eyebrows away.

“Dick…”

“Do me a favor, will you?” Dick grabs his jacket from the hook by his door, shrugging it on. He pauses, briefly, in the doorway. “Lock my door on the way out.”  

That night, she lies alone in her bedroom next to the picture of her, Wally, and Brucely. Brucely snuffles at the foot of her bed and then leaps onto the covers, and this time she doesn’t shoo him off. Neither does she fall asleep.

 *

 There was a song Jade had liked to sing, passed down from their mother: a Vietnamese lullaby about a yellow butterfly, to the tune of “Frère Jacques.” The butterfly flies all over the sky. Come and see. Come and see. When it became clear that Artemis’s hair would grow in blond, not black, Jade started pulling it, making her giggle. You’re the yellow butterfly, see?

The taxicab she calls for the airport is bright yellow in the morning light. Plain old civilian travel for plain old civilian business. You don’t need to be a superhero to fly across the country and move in with your brother-in-law and your niece. She’ll sing silly little songs and wash Lian’s hair, and they’ll be a family same as anyone else’s: clumsy, incomplete.

“Artemis.” Dick coalesces out of the fog. They haven’t seen or spoken to each other in a week, and she should be mad that he’s here because it probably means he’s been monitoring her web traffic and caught wind she’d bought plane tickets. Still, all she feels is relief.

Jade had laughed when Artemis had let slip what she was doing during one rare sisterly bonding moment. “Oh, darling sister, your thing with your little bird boy isn’t about moving on. You’re using him as a holding pattern. Try not to damage him too much, hm?” Rankled, Artemis had hung up the phone—what did Jade know about anything, besides shoving it under the rug and pretending it didn’t matter? Now, though, Artemis sees things more clearly. Jade did know something about bodies and what they could and couldn’t fix; after all, isn’t that why she ran?

She worries with the strap of her duffel bag, letting Dick approach.

“If this were a romcom, you would have waited until I got to the airport and then run through security.”

“If this were a romcom,” says Dick, stopping in front of her and shoving his hands in his pockets, “I’d be trying to make you stay.”

She thinks he might be the one person left on this planet who knows her best. She thinks they could save each other, if they’d let themselves try. But they each have work to do on their own, first.

Setting down her bag, she tucks her face into the crook of his neck and breathes him in. Wherever else she goes, this spot will always feel like forgiveness. Nose buried in her hair, Dick squeezes her back.

The taxi driver rolls down his window. “Is this guy coming with us or not?”

Artemis pulls back, and there’s so much sky in Dick’s eyes.

“You know where to find me,” she says.

 *

 | STAR CITY

| JULY 29, 2018; 7:30 AM PST

 “Who are you here to recruit this time?” Will asks, leaning against the doorframe, but Artemis doesn’t need an answer, doesn’t need any details but the black hair she can see just over Will’s shoulder, Dick’s voice at the end of a line.

He jumps, and she jumps with him. They’ll figure out everything else as they go.

Before Dick can respond, she says: “I’m in.”

[nitewrighter]

So I just read your answer to an ask about Pre-fall Genji and Mercy (The one where Genji watches Mercy fly in the practice range/Moira berates Genji while healing him or smthn) and I love it! Any chance we could get a short follow-up where Genji (eventually) tells Mercy what happened on the mission/what happened coming back from the mission?

Ah, referring back to this fic?

Well the thing about Moira is that in my fic continuity, the cover story for Moira is that Overwatch pushed her to resign after that scandal with her paper, and her involvement with Blackwatch was kept largely secret, even from Mercy, up until my pre-retribution fic. So when Moira was a problem for Genji, he couldn’t really talk about it with Mercy due to Overwatch and Blackwatch’s own fucked up compartmentalization. So after Retribution there was a bit of an elephant in the room. Also Genji’s comments during Retribution and Reyes going “The Ninja agrees with me!” are.... oof. And... whoops the “let me explain what happened/clearing the air” prompt turned into an argument.

Welp. Not all those late-night chats were easy...

----

The knock on the door of the lab caught Mercy mid-yawning stretch. It was still early in the evening at Zurich headquarters, lavender twilight light bleeding over the mountain peaks out her window. Still early enough for it to be pretty much anyone who let this work chew up as much of their personal life as hers. Ana, she thought, heading to the door, About the updated humanitarian projects in Giza, probably. Or maybe Sarioglu about the inoculations on the Siberian--

The door slid open and Genji was standing before her in a loose gray long-sleeved shirt, not his usual Blackwatch hoodie. His arms were folded against himself, his shoulders tucked slightly inwards. He stood up a little straighter as the door opened.

“Doctor Ziegler,” he said her name almost with some surprise, as if she had suddenly materialized in front of him rather than been working in the same lab they had spent countless nights chatting in before.

“...It’s been a while, Genji,” she tried to make her voice warm, but wasn’t sure what he was here for. The dust was almost beginning to settle from the Venice incident, but she had seen virtually nothing of him since that painful exchange in the rec room. The Venice incident itself was still being picked over in longer term publications, and it would definitely keep giving all the news outlets investigative journalism fodder for months to come, but Blackwatch was suspended and a significant amount of its resources had been re-allocated to other Overwatch departments for the duration of its suspension, which was enough for most news outlets to let it drift to the side in favor of more recent events.

There were a few seconds where he seemed to be gathering his thoughts before he said, “I can go if you’re busy--” He wasn’t making eye contact.

“N-no--” her fingers tensed on the doorframe, “I mean...” she moved aside slightly, “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

His eyes met hers and softened for.a few seconds before he caught himself and shuffled into the room, as if the offer might be rescinded. As he had gotten more used to his prosthetics and more settled in with Blackwatch, he had come to carry himself with what some might call grace--a grace that was heavily overshadowed and sharpened by the smoldering anger in his eyes and asymmetry of his prosthetics, but a grace that still spoke to his years of physical and mental conditioning with the Shimada clan. Now, however, his movements were smaller, clumsier even---reminding her almost of their early days of physical therapy and his flinching self-containment, the way he would shrink inside hoodies and skulk in corners.

“So... what are you up to tonight?” he asked, looking around the lab. 

“Just some correspondence,” Mercy shrugged, “There’s... been a lot.”

Piles and piles of emails from former colleagues and activists furious at the fact that I continue to associate myself with Overwatch after this scandal, she thought, And maybe I could deal with them all by releasing a personal statement, but how much of that would just come off as me trying to save face while throwing Overwatch under the bus?

“Not about Venice?” Genji stiffened a little where he stood

“Yes, about Venice,” she folded her arms, her gaze was steady and tired.

“But---that’s not fair. Nothing we did there had anything to do with you--” Genji was genuinely confused.

“Blackwatch is still Overwatch’s responsibility,” said Mercy, “And if there was evidence of weaponized biotics on site, naturally people have questions for me and, of course,” a huffing, uncomfortable chuckle escaped her, “Everything I stand for in working for Overwatch.” 

Genji’s thick eyelashes lowered over the red of his eyes in a combination of frustration and guilt. “I... meant to talk to you about that when I got back...”

Mercy’s shoulders slumped as she turned back to her chair and sat down in it.

“How long was Moira on your team?” she said quietly.

“She... joined about two months after Jack made her tender her resignation,” said Genji, “I was with Reyes the night he recruited her.” 

Mercy’s lips thinned and she wasn’t looking at him. “So... how did it work? Would she just... cartoonishly avoid being seen by hiding behind vending machines? Dipping around corners?”

“I never actually saw much of her in Zurich or Rome. Reyes usually had her working remotely at a black site. The attack on Rome forced us to bring her into Zurich for her own safety and for our response to the attack.”

“So the resignation was all just theater to put her somewhere where she would have even less oversight and accountability,” Mercy’s lips were pulling back from her teeth in frustration.

“I... don’t really know the specifics of it,” said Genji.

Mercy was silent at this, sitting with her hands in her lap. 

“Angela,” he said her name and she looked up at him, “Believe me, if it weren’t for Blackwatch’s procedures, I would have told you. There were so many times I wanted to tell you---”

So many times I wanted you to help... he thought.

“Jack knew?” Mercy said quietly.

“He knew, to an extent,” said Genji, “To be fair, even McCree and I didn’t really know what she was doing at the black site... I suppose we also didn’t want to know.”

“And everyone’s been letting her tinker with my biotics doing god-knows-what to them and then leaving that ugly smear of what was once my work at the site of an act of--of---I don’t know what to call it--Extrajudicial murder?”

“Angela...” he brought up his prosthetic hand, apparently with the intention of putting it on her shoulder, but seemed to think better of it and drew it close to himself, “If I had known Reyes’s actions would impact you like this---”

“So Reyes’s actions are only wrong because they’re negatively impacting me,” said Mercy flatly, “Not because, I don’t know, it’s utterly horrific to shoot someone in the face while in the process of making an arrest?”

Genji was taken slightly aback by her bitterness. Then again... there was a decent chance she had been dealing with whatever angry emails from people all over the world who wanted her to answer for Blackwatch’s actions for several days now. But Blackwatch did the right thing, didn’t it?

“Antonio’s weapons trafficking with Talon was probably killing far more people than that...” Genji floated the words out there, assuming they might calm her down, “If it meant stopping him--”

“’Probably?’” Mercy’s voice was incredulous. She huffed, trying to process, “That-that’s not how this works, Genji. That’s not how the law is supposed to work. You don’t kill people on ‘Probablies!’” 

“The law wouldn’t have worked with him anyway. He bragged that he had allies who would get him out within the week.” 

“That doesn’t mean you kill him!”

“I didn’t kill him, Reyes did! I just--!” Genji huffed, the sound was metallic behind his faceplate, “Look, the Shimada clan are weapons traffickers, too. I know what kind of person we were dealing with.”

“It doesn’t matter what kind of person he is, what matters is the proper procedures! If Overwatch can’t hold itself to those standards, then we can’t call ourselves peacekeepers!” 

“Reyes brought me on the team because I’m an assassin,” Genji’s voice was unsettlingly even.

“You were brought on the team because you have unique intel and skills---”

“From being raised to be an assassin,” there was a smoldering frustration in Genji now, stepping toward Mercy, “Don’t confuse what you want me to be with what I am.” 

Mercy seemed to visibly wince at this. She glared up into his red eyes, her own gray-blue eyes bloodshot from staring at her screens. “Don’t confuse who you are with what’s convenient for Reyes,” she said darkly, “If you don’t see anything wrong with what Reyes did, then Jack suspending Blackwatch was the best call he could make.”

Genji’s skin was burning with fury beneath his faceplate. “Oh and I’m just supposed to sit on my hands and watch the Shimada clan continue to kill people because Blackwatch has to be suspended for Reyes’ mistake.”

“Yes, Genji! That’s how accountability works!” Mercy was wringing her hands. 

“So you’re willing to let--You weren’t-- you have no idea what I-- You--!” Genji was stumbling over his words, his anger seemed to be mashing the ability to translate in his head down into an angry pulp of Japanese with a few english swear words peppered in. He took a sharp seething inhale. “You know what? I’m leaving.”

“Fine!” Mercy threw the word after him as he turned on his heel and stepped out the door of the lab. 

He snarled with frustration beneath his faceplate as he quickly walked down the hall. Folding his arms tight across himself as he stepped into the elevator.

She doesn’t know, she wasn’t there so she has no right to talk about it like... Genji’s organic fingers squeezed on his prosthetic arm, Like... 

He took another breath. Fine, he thought, It’s fine. I’m sick of her acting like I’m anything other than... he looked at his prosthetic hand and realized he was shaking. He closed his fingers into a fist before stepping out of the elevator, still walking, angrily and quickly through the Blackwatch offices towards his own quarters. save for the small lights lining the pathways between desks and offices, Blackwatch was virtually pitch-black.

“Trouble in paradise?” a low melodious voice sounded across the underground offices and Genji flinched to see Moira barely illuminated by the multiple screens of Reyes’s main intel computer, holding a tablet in one hand and a lowball glass of whiskey in the other. She was donning that horn-like reverse biofeed, apparently lazily scrolling through some lab work. Shouldn’t the UN have seized it with the suspension? thought Genji.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Genji said curtly before continuing to walk.

“Personally I like when she gets all sanctimonious while Overwatch is actively screwing her over,” Moira looked back down at her tablet before sipping her whiskey. Genji stopped walking. “Reminds me of those little dogs yapping on the ends of leashes, and then their owners just get tired of them and scoop them up... and there’s a life story in 10 seconds. No power to begin with and all you can do is bark and bark--”

“If you talk about Doctor Ziegler like that again, you’ll--” Genji caught himself.

“Ah. So you were haunting her door,” Moira’s eyebrows raised with some amusement.

“You don’t know,” said Genji, stiffly.

“I know you’re easy to read,” said Moira, not even looking up from her tablet, “And I know we’re all slaves to habit. So what happened?”

“Nothing I’m sharing with you,” said Genji walking forward.

“That’s fine,” Moira kept scrolling through her tablet as Genji walked past her.

She was only a few steps behind him when she spoke up again. “I understand how deeply it stings, when you realize you’re not the person someone built up in their head.”

Genji paused again, his shoulders bunching up, and he glanced back at her.

“But I’ve also always had great admiration for those who know exactly who and what they are. I like to think it’s why Blackwatch was as efficacious as it was.... despite... some personality clashes,” she gave an easy shrug.

Genji was silent for a few seconds. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m only saying that you have my sympathy for finally understanding the difference between those up there,” she nodded up to the ceiling, to the upper levels of Overwatch, “And those of us down here.” 

Something prickled in Genji then. He remembered the weight of his father’s hands on his shoulders, saying, You have to understand, this is who we are. And Genji tensed then. 

“You’re not alone, Genji, that’s all I’m saying,” said Moira, sipping her whiskey.

“Good night, Moira,” was all Genji managed to say as he walked off.

[superbadassnatural]

A Lot to Make up For

Summary: Dean threw a fit when he saw something he didn’t like. To say you were angry with him was an understatement. The least thing he could do was make-up for his behavior. Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: 4,647 Warnings: smut, oral sex (fem receiving), p in v, little bit of spanking, jealous!Dean, mentions of fwb relationship, a bit of crack? A/N: this was written for “SPN Bi-Weekly Challenge” hosted by the amazing @supernatural-jackles. There are three prompts in this one and they are all bolded. I’m trying to understand why tumblr flagged this post when I uploaded the gif I made, which is similar to this one, but not flagged it when I used someone else’s. Either way, at least one of them worked. Please, enjoy it!

(x)

When you decided to come to the bar, you didn’t expect it to be this crowded. Loud conversations competed with the sound of the electronic music. Somehow you managed to find an empty barstool and ran for it. You ordered a beer, sipping at it, unsure of what you were really doing here.

You needed a night out. It had been a while since you last went out by yourself. You usually hung out with the boys, but this time you didn’t want to. It’s not like you didn’t want to be around them, you just wanted to enjoy some quality time alone.

A man sat beside you. He seemed to be around your age and he was definitely a sight for sore eyes. The man turned to you, introduced himself, and started a small talk that turned into an interesting — and mostly funny — conversation.

Andrew was good to be around. He was a stranger, but he somehow knew how to make you laugh. He even bought you a couple of beers and fries.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get out of the bar and have your way with him between the sheets. Or maybe it was the way he was flirting with you that was making those thoughts run through your mind. You didn’t even notice he was that close to you. Your knees brushed each other under the wooden counter. His knuckles ran down your forearm. Every now and then his brown eyes would descend to your lips as you spoke. He wanted it as much as you did.

“You know, I was thinking...” he scooted closer, eyes leaving yours to dart to your painted lips. “Maybe we should-“

“Oh, there you are,” a familiar voice interrupted him.

Dean. He stepped towards you, a smile playing on his lips. Both you and Andrew frowned.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, sweetheart,” his hand made its way to your waist as he planted a kiss to the side of your head.

“Dean, what’re you doing here?” You asked, trying to pull away from his hold.

“I was worried sick, baby,” he said. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“I’m sorry,” Andrew stepped in just as confused as you. “Who are you?”

“I’m Dean, her boyfriend,” he beamed, holding out his hand, but Andrew didn’t take it. “Listen, thanks, man, for taking care of her. I’m glad you were keeping her company. Who knows what would happen if you weren’t here. Maybe some bastard would’ve tried to take advantage of her.”

“Her boyfriend?” The man was trying to wrap his mind around what Dean was saying.

“No!” You jumped it.

“Yeah,” he said at the same time as you did. “I don’t know why she’s saying I’m not.”

“Sorry, man,” he looked at you as if you were some lying bitch. “She told me she was single.”

“I am single! He’s my friend.”

“Well, I don’t know if she’s told you, but she suffers from short-term memory loss,” Dean pursed his lips.

What the hell is he talking about, you thought to yourself.

“You know, like Dory from Finding Nemo,” he added. “She probably forgot we were dating. She’s probably going to forget about you too so I suggest you go away. If she forgets you and sees you, she won’t understand a thing. It’ll only make her poor mind even more confused.”

“It must be hard to deal with that,” Andrew sighed, buying Dean’s crap. “Well, I’ll leave you guys be. Sorry about that, man.”

Andrew headed out of the bar. You were too dumbfounded by the whole situation to go after him and explain that your best friend was delusional. He probably wouldn’t believe it anyway. Dean burst into laughter.

“Are you out of your mind?” You nearly roared at him, slapping his hands off of you.

“Oh, you gotta admit that was funny,” he gushed between laughter.

“No, Dean, it wasn’t,” you glared at him. “It was ridiculous and extremely disrespectful. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home.”

You stormed out of the bar with Dean hot on your tail. Your blood was boiling. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he just let you get some tonight? You stopped in front of your car and turned to him.

“Get lost, Winchester. I don’t want you near me tonight.”

“C’mon, sweetheart. I’m your best friend. I’m your favorite person in this whole world,” he bargained.

“Best friend?” You chuckled humorlessly. “Since when best friends do stuff like that? Seriously, Dean, that was low even for you. I don’t wanna see you tonight or tomorrow or for the rest of the week! Not even if you’re covered in gold.”

“Not even if I’m naked and covered in gold with your favorite chocolate?”

“No. Actually, the thought of you naked just made me throw up in my mouth a little.”

“Well, that wasn’t what you said a few days ago,” he had the cockiest grin playing on his lips. Maybe he thought he could charm his way and you would forgive him.

“Fuck you,” you sneered. “If you do so much as follow me, I’m gonna murder you!”

Hopping in your car, you turned the engine and headed home. Your hands gripped tight the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. You couldn’t for the life of you understand what had gotten into him. He’d never acted like that. He didn’t have the right to.

In about ten minutes you arrived at the condominium you live in. Parking in your spot, you let out a frustrated sigh before climbing off the car. You were glad he didn’t follow you. At least he had a little respect for you.

As you stepped foot into your apartment you rushed to the bathroom. A shower would do wonders for your tense muscles. Maybe it would even wash your anger away. You turned on the water and checked the temperature before hopping in. You relaxed immediately as the warm water hit your skin.

Although you felt more relaxed after showering, your mind was still on a thousand miles per hour. Dean had never behaved the way he did tonight. Throughout your eleven years of friendship, he had never disrespected you or crossed any boundaries. But tonight he did. Maybe he was angry because you decided to hit a bar and didn’t invite him. It doesn’t justify his behavior.

You’d be lying if you said you were just friends. Over a year ago, after many drinks you and Dean had sex. It was nice, but you barely remembered anything the following morning. So you did it sober. It might have been a dumb idea, but boy it felt good. Dean suggested you should keep doing that and you agreed. No strings attached. No exclusivity. Just two friends blowing off some steam every now and then.

What you have with Dean doesn’t give him the right to act the way he did. He’s not your boyfriend. Both of you agreed that it was okay to see other people and even have sex with them — always with protection. Aside from Dean, you only had sex with one person since you started to fool around. Now, when you finally got the chance to hang out with some guy, he decided to show up and throw a fit? Who does he think he is?

“Ah, screw him,” you mumbled.

Shifting into your ideal sleeping position, your body relaxed on the mattress. Thank God for memory foam. It didn’t take long for tiredness to take over and for you to drift off to sleep.

The unceasing sound of the doorbell ringing startled you. You stood to your feet abruptly, but soon regretted when you felt dizzy. Putting on your robe, you headed to the front door not even bothering to look through the peephole. It seemed to be some kind of emergency. No one would be ringing the doorbell this late if it wasn’t urgent. Unlocking the door, you opened it.

“Hey. How can I-“ you stopped once you met his green eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Y/N, I’m sorry-“

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” you hissed, trying to push the door close but his feet stopped you.

“I need to talk to you.”

“I don’t care. It’s fucking three in the morning. I have to get up early to go to work,” your hand gripped tight to the knob, ready to close the door in his face if he tried to come in. “I’m sorry, but not everyone works for their dad and can show up late everyday.”

“We both know tomorrow is your day off,” he said. “Please let me in. I need to talk to you. Then you can kick me out and go back to your beauty sleep.”

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, stepping aside for him to come in. “But only because I’m mad at you and I’m in the mood for a fight.”

“Can we fight so we can have angry make-up sex later?” A smirk appeared on his plump lips.

“Sex with you?” You snickered. “Never again.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he pleaded. “It’s been two weeks since we had some fun.”

“Did you come here so you could get laid? Did ou wake me up just so you could have sex with me? Really, Dean?”

“No, of course not. If I wanted to have sex with you, I would have texted you first,” he said. “I came here to apologize.”

“Oh, so you know you screwed up. Good.”

“Would you let me finish?” You rolled your eyes crossing your arms over your chest. “I came here to surprise you. I thought we could have a sleepover since you don’t have to go to work tomorrow. I even brought my Die Hard collection so we could watch it tonight. I bought two slices of pie on the way. Cherry for me and apple for you. Imagine my surprise when I open the door and there’s not a single light on.”

“So what? Are you telling me that it’s my fault now? I should have stayed home waiting for you?” You pointed your finger at him. “Is that the reason why you did what you did at the bar?”

“I looked for you everywhere. Then Jess told me you went out for a drink at Hardy’s. So I went after you. When I saw that guy with his hands all over you, I flipped. I knew I couldn’t punch him and start a fight so I did that.”

“You know you’re not my boyfriend, right? Or my father for that matter?” You stepped closer to him. “So why did you have to ruin things for me tonight? I’ve never done anything like that to you. Never! Why did you have to be such an idiot?”

“I was jealous, okay?” He growled.

“It still doesn’t give you the right to do that, Dean,” you yelled at him. “You know, Dean, every time you, Sam, and I go to a bar, you leave us on the table to hit on the bartender. I wouldn’t have a problem with that if your brother was single. Don’t get me wrong, I love Jess, but if Sam was single then he’d hit on someone and I’d be free to do that too. Or even better, I could make out with him!” You exclaimed, knowing it would piss him off. “Oh, Jess told me some things that you probably don’t wanna know, but they were really interesting. In case you don’t know, girls talk about sex too. From what she’s told me, I bet he’s better than you. I mean, he’s definitely bigger so-“

“Shut up!” He yelled. You could see his jaw tightening as the veins in his neck throbbed.

“You know what’s even worse? When Jess comes with us, I’m third-wheeling most of the time. For some reason, they won’t let me get two feet away from them.”

“I hit on the bartenders to make you jealous. It’s all fake,” he nearly barked. “I thought that maybe if I did that I’d get a reaction from you because I’m too much of a coward to do the right thing.”

“You do remember our agreement, right? Just sex. No feelings. We are non-exclusive. We can see other people and even have sex. We made a bunch of rules back in that day. One of them was no cockblocking,” your blood was boiling in your veins. You could feel your anger grow with every word you said.

“I’m sorry, okay? But I couldn’t just stand there and watch that son of a bitch getting all handsy.”

“While you were having fun with bartenders and girls you met every time we went out, I was alone. Since we started this, I’ve only had sex with one person and it was-“

“Terrible. I know you said the guy was awful.”

“It’s not that I think I should be having sex with half of the men in town, but if you can have sex with everyone you want then why can’t I? Every time I try to hang out with someone, I get sabotaged.”

“Ever since we started this, I’ve only had sex with you. I tried to be with someone else but it didn’t work because she wasn’t you.”

“Oh my God, it was you!” Reality downed to you as you ignored him. The sound of your raged heart much louder than his voice. “You sabotaged me every time! The broken lock, flat tires, and all that crap that happened every time I got close to a guy. They were all you.”

“Yeah, it was me,” Dean barked. “You deserve better than those guys.”

“Who gave you the right to do that, you idiot? Why did you have to do that?”

“Because I love you dammit!” His voice was much louder, causing you to flinch.

“Well, maybe that’s the problem!” You yelled back at him.

You spun around completely done with him, your head was pounding in your skull. The last thing you saw before storming out of the apartment was his jaw wiring shut as his eyes filled with rage.

The door slammed with a loud thud, startling Dean. He was pulled out of his angry trance when he noticed he was standing alone in the middle of your apartment. He knew he had screwed up big time. He’d not planned on confessing his feelings to you tonight. Especially not like this.

You stood dumbstruck in the hall just outside your door. Everything happened so fast. One minute you were peacefully asleep, the other you and Dean were almost jumping at each other’s throats. He shouldn’t have said he loves you. And you shouldn’t have stormed out the way you did.

“God, what have I done?” you sighed.

The sound of the door opening and closing echoed through the corridor. You didn’t want to turn around. You couldn’t face him.

“You realize you just stormed out of your apartment, right?” He let out a small chuckle to try to light up the mood.

“You see what you do to me?” You turned around to face him. His green eyes held anything but anger. “You make me so mad that I do stupid things like storming out of my own home when I should’ve kicked you out.”

“Hey, you don’t need me to do stupid things. You can do that on your own,” he held his hands up, a cheeky grin playing on his lips. “Now let’s get inside, shall we?”

You only nodded, following him back inside.

“So what do we do now, huh?” He asked, shutting the door.

“You don’t love me. I mean- you do, but as your best friend.”

“No, Y/N, I love you as more than my best friend.”

“Stop,” you argued. “You can’t, okay? Or you’re gonna ruin everything.”

“Ruin what? We both know this is not a friends with benefits shit. It never was.”

“Dean-“

“This is not one-sided and you know it, Y/N,” he said, voice deeper than usual. “What we did… what we do is not just sex. Or do I have to tell you how many times we actually made love?”

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice wavered.

“Because I love you, Y/N.”

“Then don’t. You’re screwing things up.”

“Why can’t you just admit it? Why is it so hard for you to finally say it?”

“I can’t risk losing you,” you said low enough that he almost didn’t hear you. Almost. “The moment we take that step there’s no going back and I can’t risk losing you. I can’t.”

“You’re not gonna lose me,” he placed his hands on both sides of your hips, his body incredibly close to yours.

“You can’t promise me that.”

“You’re right. I can’t, but I’ll do anything to be with you.”

Fingers curling in the collar of his flannel, you pulled him to you, capturing his lips with yours. Your heart skipped a beat as he returned the kiss. It was slow at first, almost uncertain. The soft press of his lips made you melt into his touch. Your tongue caressed his plump lips in a plea for him to allow you to delve into his mouth. A muffled moan escaped his lips as his hands came up to cup your face, thumb circling your cheek.

You pulled away in need of air. Your eyes were still closed as you rested your forehead against his.

“I don’t know about you but I’m still down for some angry make-up sex,” he said between panted breaths.

“Dean-“

“Stop denying what you want, Y/N.”

Swallowing thick, you opened your eyes only to meet his green orbs hooded with lust. With arms around his neck, you wrapped your legs around his waist, lips colliding with his. Warm hands held you by the back of your thighs as he walked towards your bedroom. He pushed you against the wall, placing you back on the floor. His lips graced the skin of your neck with sweet yet hungry kisses. Your body was pressed flush to him. You could feel his heart beating fast against your chest and his growing bulge against your pelvis. A moan left your lips as one of his hands hiked up your leg and squeezed your thigh over the silky robe. Dean pressed himself to you and you bucked your hips, the feeling of his erection against your soaked pussy setting your body on fire.

Hurried hands fumbled with the knot tying your robe. He pushed it off your shoulders, revealing your naked before him, the soft material pooling around your feet.

“Fuck,” he said in a low grunt as his eyes wandered over your bare chest.

A smile spread on your lips. Always the same reaction from him. You unbuttoned his flannel, dropping it to the floor. As Dean yanked his white shirt over his head, your hands reached for his naked torso, traveling down to his abdomen and stopping over his belt, quickly unbuckling it. He pulled down his pants, standing in front of you only in his boxers. You pushed him towards the bed, straddling his hips as he sat. Hungry lips captured his plump, pink ones, his hands snaked to your back. The soft touch of his fingertips sending shivers down your spine.

“Need you,” a breathy moan escaped your lips.

Dean’s back met the softness of the mattress, green eyes sparkling at the sight of you on top of him. You leaned and his hands reached for your breasts. Fingers nipped at your hardened bud as his mouth enveloped the other. His name escaped your lips in a tiny whimper as you rolled your hips against him. He released your nipple with a pop and planted kisses everywhere he could touch.

You pushed down his boxers, revealing his hard cock in all its glory. Your small hand wrapped around his length, stroking it before circling the head with your thumb.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he hissed. “Want you. I need to taste you. Come up here.”

You crawled up, knees around his broad shoulders. As your hands met the headboard, he lowered your body to his face. Dean wanted to take his time. He peppered open-mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs. He ran his nose over your folds and you let out a frustrated moan.

“Stop teasing.”

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart,” although you didn’t see it, you felt his lips curl into a smirk.

“I need to cum.”

Three teasing licks from your slit to clit caused your breath to hitch on your throat. He wanted to drive you insane and he definitely knew how to do it. Dean licked and sucked your most sensitive parts. Parts he knew by heart. His tongue entered your channel and you saw stars. Fingers finding their course to his hair, gripping it to the point of pain. A guttural grunt from him made your whole body shudder. You tried to buck your hips against his sinful mouth, but his strong grip on your hips restrained your movements. He kept pushing his tongue as far as he could, tasting your sweetness as he feasted. Muffled moans and husky hums escaped his lips, reverberating through your soaked folds. He enjoyed this as much as you did.

“Hmm, yes,” you moaned.

When you felt his grasp on you loosen, you rolled your hips. All your self-consciousness fading as the need to come grew stronger. Your hands dropped to the mattress, ass angling up. His tongue started to circulate your clit, sending small shivers through your body. You glanced over your shoulder, eyes landing on his hand stroking his cock slowly. Your cunt clenched around nothing. His teeth grazed over your bundle of nerves, nipping slightly. The burning coil in your abdomen tightened. Dean sealed his lips around your clit and you went off as a rocket. Your legs trembled around his head as he kept sucking. Waves of pleasure washed over you.

“Fuck, Dean,” you yelled out his name along with a bunch of obscenities.

Dean moaned as he lapped at your juices. He licked you clean until you rode out your orgasm. He kissed your sensitive clit before helping you scooting down so you could meet his face.

“Hi,” you smiled as you laid on top of him.

“Hey,” his plump lips were shining with your release, his cheeks a bright pink.

You leaned to capture his lips. A moan was muffled by his mouth as you tasted yourself in his tongue. The kiss didn’t last though. Both of you were in some serious need of air to make it last.

“I bet the neighbors know my name,” he beamed with the cockiest smirk.

“Oh, shut up,” with a roll of eyes, you started to plant open-mouthed kisses down his throat.

“You know they do. Especially after tonight. The way you-“ he stopped as you sucked at a sensitive spot on the side of his neck. “Shit, Y/N. Need to be inside you.”

He flipped you onto your back, laying on top of you. His lips attacked yours in a hungry, bruising kiss. Your hand reached for his cock, positioning it at your entrance.

“No, not like this. I have other things in mind,” he said with a crooked grin. “On all fours, sweetheart.”

Dean pulled away and you did as told. Your ass perked up and his warm hands gripped your hips. He squeezed your skin and you groaned in anticipation. The tip of his cock circled your entrance.

“Please,” a sweet little cry escaped your lips.

You whimpered as he pushed inside you ever so slow. His massive size stretching your walls to fit him. Dean groaned. He slid out almost completely before thrusting into you with such force that you gasped.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he grunted. “You feel so good. So tight.”

His blunt fingernails digging into the flesh of your hips as he pounded into you relentlessly. Sweat broke through your body as your breath started to come in short spurts. His hand collided with your right cheek, causing your body to jerk. Then he did the same to the other one and you hissed. Dean leaned against you, kissing your shoulder blade.

“You like this, don’t you?” His voice barely upon a whisper, hot breath fanning at your clammy skin. “You like it when I take you just… like… this?” His thrusts matched his words, sending you over the edge once again.

“Yes!”

His hand smacked harder at your right cheek as he pulled away. That definitely was going to leave a mark. Your skin tingling at the stingy sensation. He slammed in and out of you like a madman. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room along with shameless cries and husky grunts. The heat in your core started to grow even more. You fell forward into the mattress, fingers curling the sheets. Your walls pulsated around him as your orgasm hit you abruptly. Dean sent another five deep-seated thrusts and had you screaming into the pillow in pure ecstasy.

You were so lost in the feeling that you didn’t notice Dean flipping you into your back. He leaned down nuzzling into your neck, before sliding back into you. He kept driving in and out of you, his breath erratic. Your hands slapped against his back, nails digging into his skin, heels digging into his ass. You needed as much of him as you could get.

“Come with me, sweetheart,” he nearly pleaded as he pulled away from your neck.

His hips pistoned against yours, sloppy thrusts aiming for the final push. The thumps of the headboard  banging against the wall mixed with the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. Dean delivered three deep thrusts before his body stiffened. He held himself there as he painted your walls white with his seed. Your orgasm rippled through you. You clenched around him so tight, milking his cock for all its worth. His green orbs locked in your lust blown eyes as his lips parted in a perfect “o” shape, mirroring your expression, though no sound came from any of you. Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes as pleasure washed through you.

Dean collapsed on top of you, his head nuzzling in the curve of your neck. He placed a kiss to your skin before rolling to his side. Both of you waited for your breaths to even. Only then, when the room had grown quiet, you noticed the orange glow in the room caused by the strays of sunshine that managed to get past the blinds.

“Hot damn,” he let out a content sigh.

“What we did tonight… it should be illegal,” you half-chuckled.

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” he had a stupid grin on his face the whole time.

“Don’t sweetheart me,” you pouted. “I’m still mad at you.”

“Really? C’mon! I thought I had made myself up to you by making you come three times. Wasn’t that enough?”

“Of course not! You cockblocked me. Who knows how many times I would’ve cum if I was with that guy,” you shrugged.

“None. Plus, he doesn’t love you so it wouldn’t be nearly as exciting as this was.”

“You still need to make yourself up to me. ’Sides, you didn’t even tie the record, Dean. I’ve made myself come more times using just my fingers and a couple of toys.”

“Is that a challenge, sweetheart?”

“Only if you wanted it to be,” you smirked.

Dean rolled over you, his hand making its way to cup your mound. “I bet you still have my cum dripping from this tight pussy.”

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

I’d love to know what you think of this one! Please, consider sharing your thoughts with me via reply, reblog or ask!

Dean Sweethearts:

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