#Yeah it’s not that my brain “runs slowly and is spaced-out” it’s that I can’t get it to stop accelerating and latching onto everything

[mollyrolls]

stop the clock 𖦹 matsukawa i. x reader

day 8: the name drop

in collaboration with get ugly by @eggyrocks @warlocksoup

an: if you guys haven't seen my rampant screaming, eggy's new phenomenal fic get ugly is in the stc universe!!! you must go read it and give eggy love otherwise ill eat you

uquiz 𖦹 pinterest

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“You broke my heart, you know that?”

Issei calls out to the expanse of the store as he enters, foot barely past the threshold before he speaks.

“Uh, sorry?”

Suddenly, his blood runs cold. The voice coming from the desk is not the one he’s come to love, but a completely new one. He turns slowly, preparing himself for the embarrassment he will have to endure.

Sitting in her perch was a shorter guy, with a streak of blonde cutting right through his hair. He’s looking at Issei like he knows him, which is confusing because Issei’s sure this is the first time he’s seen him.

Upon seeing his face, the guy from the counter breaks into a huge grin.

“Oh my god, you must be Mattsun.”

Adjusting slightly to appear more relaxed, he gives a tentative smile.

“Uh, yeah. I am.”

The guy leans forward on his elbows, watching him like a TV show.

“How much money have you actually spent on cherries? It’s got to be like ¥4000 at this point.”

This peaks his interest significantly. He hasn’t told anyone but Makki and Suna about the cherries, because he had to explain the new business expense he’d been logging, so it must have been her.

This of course means-

“She talks about me?” He can hardly contain his glee at this news.

“Yeah. It’s not-”

Issei puts a hand up to stop the guy. He doesn’t care to hear what she’s been saying, for better or for worse. Since it’s likely worse, the knowledge that he consumes the tiniest bit of space in her brain is enough for him.

As he does so, the guy splits into a huge grin.

“You’re just like I imagined. Can I please watch you flirt? I need this for science.”

Before he can do anything, the guy behind the counter yells out to the store. 

Yells her name. Something in Issei’s head starts to spin. 

He wanted to know her name. So badly that he was chastised relentlessly by Makki for spending his whole shift on his phone with Suna. They had scoured every corner of her spotify account, looking for anything to identify her.

Tragically, she’d prepared for him. Her username was just a bunch of numbers, she had no profile name or picture, and all the playlists were simply numbered 1-16. 

So yes, knowing her name was like fireworks sparking in his head. But this was not how he wanted to learn it. He likes that she makes him work; he wanted it to be a prize that he’d earned.

At the sound of her name, she appears behind the little isles and looks over at where they are. Issei can’t help but notice she’s in his corner. Where the cherries are. 

As she makes eye contact with Issei, her facade cracks. Surprise, embarrassment, realization, embarrassment, collected, all in the span of a few seconds. She comes around to round out their circle, not really looking at Issei. 

He thinks it’s weird seeing her from this angle. She’s not different, maybe a little nervous, but not enough to really change her demeanor. Yet, without the safety of her counter she looks more vulnerable. 

“Is something wrong, Noya?” She asks the guy behind the counter, seemingly unprepared to handle Issei. 

Noya grins cheekily, and gestures to the space between them as if inviting the show to begin. She glowers at him but he seems unaffected. Issei’s impressed; if he was on the receiving end of that glare he’d need some new pants.

Noya beams wider before turning to him again. “Cmon, let’s see it! Lay on the charm man.” 

“You’re gross. And stealing from me by still being clocked in,” She bites back before Issei can even start. He just stands back and watches their exchange, like a spectator at the zoo. 

Something in him is jealous of Noya and the way he can get her to shed her skin. Regardless, he takes what he can get. Despite his nasty gut feeling, he’s seeing a side of her he’s never gotten access to. What she’s like with her friends, when she’s not putting on her facade. Who his mystery girl really is.

Noya eventually concedes after being threatened short of death and is pushed out of the store. Before he disappears into the dusk, he whispers something to her that makes her eyes roll all the way to the back of her head. 

She watches him turn the corner and disappear into the night, and Issei notices the steadying breaths she has to take.

Upon re-entering the store, she looks more collected. As she tucks her hands in her back pockets, she rocks a little on her feet. He looks down and notices the boots she’s sporting, and the tiniest little streak on the toe.

“So.”

His attention is brought back up when she addresses him, still swaying slightly.

“So?”

She shifts her shoulders back reflexively, like she’s ready for a fight. “You know my name now.”

He looks back at her, saying nothing. She doesn’t take the bait.

“What, you aren’t gonna berate me to death? Wax poetic about how beautiful it is and how it suits me and how when you heard it, angels sang?”

He tries to hide a smile. “Do you want me to?”

“No.”

“Then I won’t.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “What happened to you?”

He gives a tiny shrug.

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m still the same old Issei.”

Unconvinced, she glares at him a little longer. He takes it on the chin. When she presses, he stands firm.

Issei thinks she’s sorting things out in her head. He’d give her whatever she needs, even if it makes his knees a little weak, and right now that means a silent dressing down. His hands are sweaty.

“This is unnerving.” She admits after a few moments, then turns on her heel to walk back deeper into the store.

Issei waits a couple moments then follows.

“What is?”

“You.” She reaches her destination, and starts to restock his cherries.

“Haven’t I always annoyed you though?”

“Yeah. But this is different.”

She continues picking up the pots from the box, rotating them around and sliding them into their place. There’s about 20 little jars, only taking up a single shelf.

Issei lingers nearby, leaning on the doors of a fridge. His back radiates enough heat to make some condensation. “How do you mean?”

She stops for a second in contemplation; looking over her shoulder to peer at him again, turning thoughts over in her mind. She opens her mouth to say something, but closes it just as fast. 

In her hesitancy, Issei notices a touch of vulnerability in her eyes. It’s hidden deep behind her irises, but he knows her now. With a blink, it’s gone.

 Instead, she lets out a deep sigh, a bit of frustration and a drop of disappointment.

“I dunno. Never mind.”

“Hey, cmon.” Issei tries to probe her again, keep her talking, but she grows resolute in her decision. She quickly emits an energy that is impenetrable. He doesn’t have the tools yet to identify a crack.

He stands and waits for an opening, one that she doesn’t give. The condensation from the fridge starts to drip down his neck. 

He feels a buzz in his pocket, and sees a text. 

suna [9:57 pm]: ur gonna b late. get some salt while ur there, quit harassing women, and hurry up

He can’t help the small grunt of annoyance he lets out, resentment growing at everything around him. 

When he looks back up, she’s staring at him in a way he’s never seen. There’s not a lack of emotion, there’s too many to sort. He expects her to glance away, and she does.

The whirr of the fridges is louder than normal.

“I’ll uh… I’ll see you around,” Issei starts, feeling oddly small. He scuffs his shoe, hoping she’ll ask him to stay, or ask him a clarifying question, or anything other than this suffocating silence. When nothing comes, he pushes off the wall and starts down the aisle.

He really does try to leave, but sometimes he can’t help himself. He pauses, and she watches.

“For what it’s worth, I think it’s lame your friend ruined that bit. It was kinda fun having the mystery.”

She takes the peace treaty gratefully, but still doesn’t speak.

“If you want, we can agree to forget it? I’ll earn it fair and square?”

There’s a little chuckle, mostly to herself, before she replies.

“Are you even capable of forgetting that?”

He laughs, somewhat from relief that he had managed to salvage whatever he’d fucked up.

“Nah, probably not. I can try though.”

She dismisses that with a wave of her hand.

“Why bother. I’ll just… put bleach in Noya’s shampoo or something.”

He grins at her, easy and open. She doesn’t return it, but stands up a bit more casually. 

The unspoken words between them weigh heavy in the air, but it’s returned to a level that Issei can manage. They’re closer than he’d thought.

He realizes he’s been staring, trying and failing to place her perfume. Issei ducks his head quickly, before turning and walking out more intentionally.

Right before he reaches the door, he turns around one last time. To his surprise, he meets her eyes. 

“I- I hope the concert was good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He can’t hear her from across the store, but sees her mouth ‘bye.’

By the time he gets to work, he’s distracted. Anytime a woman tries to flirt with him, all he can think of is the melody behind her eyes, and what was going through her head. 

Issei doesn’t make that many tips that night.

She’s hunched over her drawing table, various trashed doodles surrounding her. Her phone is plugged into the wall, just above 14%. It always dies faster when she’s on the phone.

“I don’t see what the big deal is?”

Seven’s voice is breathy over the speaker, she’s out in the cold. She fills in the background of her strip with haphazard crosses.

“So he’s a little dorky guy with a crush. Is he threatening?”

She lets out a half-there chuckle. “No. He likes batman band-aids.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Her pencil tip breaks from the pressure. 

“I-”

Instead of sharpening it, she fishes for another.

“I think he actually likes me. Like, not as a bit.”

Over the speaker, some rock radio comes over from Seven’s side. It’s loud enough that she can hear it. It makes her cringe.

“Is that so bad?”

The response takes so long that Seven has to ask if she’s there.

“Yeah. It is.”

She hangs up before she’s faced with the next probing question.

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taglist: closed.

@bakingcuriosity, @nobodybutnnoorr, @ciderscape, @lilchubbyyy, @soulfullystarry,

@interstellarz, @wakashudou , @myromanempiree, @notverymarley, @aozui,

@lllaw,, @cnnmairoll, @cosmiicdust, @reignsaway,

@wyrcan, @garfieldissocool, @soobin1437, @guitarstringed-scars, @adorerinn,

@thiisisntlovely, @miliondollagirl, @snail-squasher, @pocketful-ofdaisies, @cherrypieyourface,

@honeekyuu, @rivaiken,

@ineednanami, @akaashislovee, @kodzu-ken

@yoshit-he-dinosaur, @thyproblem, @cupidsblonde, @little-flower30, @asthmaticcchoeee

@lunasfics, @bakery-anon, @haikyuuluverrr, @chososcamgirl, @seroh

@introvertsince2003, @thechaosoflonging, @kameyyy, @riousluvs, @totallytatum

@animenaces-world, @layskettlecookedchips, @chaotic-neutral-ig, @jadeoru, @anniewings

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

AHA

I am not going crazy. Having excess beta brainwaves IS correlated to ADHD symptoms (in children and adolescents), specifically metacognition issues, inattention, and irritability:

[oceantornadoo]

your weighted blanket (simon riley x f!reader)

part of this two lieutenants series but it’s standalone

—

“you know what i want?”

“wha’?”

“a weighted blanket.”

simon turned away from his bedroom desk to stare at you, his dark eyes squinting incredulously.

“what?! i think it’d help me sleep.”

“wha’ the fuck is a weighted blanket.”

you huffed a sigh. “it’s literally a weighted blanket simon. having weight pressing down on you helps you sleep, it’s scientifically proven.” you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you laid back on his bed.

turning off his desk lamp, he made his way to his bed. he joined you on top of the covers, giving you plenty of space. keeping it platonic. not that he wanted to, but that was another thing.

“can’t jus’ have some sop lay on you?” the words hurt coming out, but it was the only thing he could say. desperately looking for a sign that you were talking to someone as you were so tightlipped about your escapades until after they ended.

“i’m on a man break. they all suck.” no one measured up to the unending care simon gave you, even if he was just a friend. just a friend who lets you come into his room every night, talking yourself to sleep. just a friend who never forgets your favorite body wash or candle scent on supply runs.

“they don’t know how to treat a woman like you.” his words echoed in the dark, ideas of what they meant bouncing around in your brain. “a woman like me?” silence. “don’t be mean, si.”

fuck he was so stupid. needed to watch his tone better, like gaz was always telling him. “dove, jus’ meant a smart independent woman like yourself. yer lookin’ for a partner and they’re look for a mother or a fuck. or both.” your jaw dropped. “oh. thanks.” his words thickened the air. no one had ever talked about you like that, like you were something to be treasured, not kept. like he respected you.

“if you really need a weighted blanket i-“ “yeah?” you sounded too eager, but you didn’t care. you turned towards him, catching his eye in the gleam of the base lights outside his window. “could be yers. if you want. strictly platonic.” he scratched his head, looking away. embarrassed. “yeah, platonic. course, yeah. that’s fine. good, i mean.” you needed to get your act together and stop sounding like a teenager, but he just offered to be your blanket. surely that was more than platonic.

“now?”

“sure.”

you sat on his bed like a dead fish, arms at your sides. you were not about to initiate what surely would be the most awkward non-cuddle session in your life. simon pressed one large paw into the mattress, hauling his huge body up on one arm. he moved down farther on the bed, his head parallel to your ribs. then, with the uttermost care, he shifted on top of you, hovering. waiting. “you can lay on me si, it’s okay.” he released his hands slowly, the full force of his body laying on you. 250+ pounds of pure machine, a body honed from years in the military. a soldier, a sniper, a lieutenant, now at your mercy, body covering yours completely.

“not too weighted for you?” you giggled. an actual giggle from his fellow lieutenant. “no, si. not too weighted.” your hand instinctively went to his hair before you could stop yourself. “is this comfortable? you’re on my ribs.” he grunted. it actually hurt like a bitch, your bone pressing into him through layers of fat, but he was laying on you and therefore could not complain. “you can move up, i won’t mind.” well, if you were letting him. he wanted to make the most of this blanket situation, this type of intimacy so foreign to him.

simon scooted up your body and laid his head on your tits. built-in pillows, one might call them. you hand went to his hair again, slowly scratching his scalp. “this ok?” you never touched like this, had never touched him like something precious. he grunted, a yes in “ghost” as you liked to call it. you continued running your hand through his hair, surprised at the softness of his locks. his face was against your breast, and usually you’d be embarrassed, but lines had been crossed and all bets were off. his body was heavy, sure, but the weight of it was comforting. all you could think of was him, not the annoying recruit from this morning, not the bad dinner you had at the mess hall. only the smell of the base shampoo and his natural musk, something uniquely him but not gross.

all simon could hear was your heartbeat. it had quickened when he first laid down, but now it was slowing to a comforting beat. you were here, you were breathing. the gunfire and the smell of bombs in his head meant nothing as long as he had you like this, in his arms where no one could hurt you. he could feel your body relaxing, muscles losing the day’s tension and giving themselves over to sleep. as your breathing slowed and you moved to a lower, more comfortable position on his pillow, he knew time could stop and all that would matter was you, right here, with him.

--

[dearly-somber]

Oh No! | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. fluff, f2l, first-kiss, university!au, werewolf/shifter!au

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 1376

-> warnings. a tad suggestive at the end!

-> a/n. Sharp Teeth is nearing its end, my loves 😪 One last installment before the end of the main series 🥹🫶🏻

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. Sept. 14th, 2024 @ 16:54

-> fin. Sat., Aug. 3rd, 2024 @ 00:31

-> edited. Sun., Aug. 4th, 2024 @ 22:07

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn

Oh no! your brain says. I’m kissing my best friend! Whatever shall I do?

Run away, it seems.

Your first thought was woah, and before you could think I want to do that again, you were already running upstairs, the distant sound of your name being called only partially breaking through the panicky mist clouding your senses.

You just kissed Jungkook for the first time and it was for a fucking dare. What? How the fuck even did you let that happen?

It’s like one second you were laughing as the pack was being dared to do funky shit like moon the person next to them or call a random number so they could imitate the sound of an elk, and the next you were sitting like a frightened deer as Yoongi, that bastard (affectionate), dared you to kiss the person to your left.

Jungkook.

Jungkook, who was sitting to your left, his eyes wide and round and pretty and—god, why was he licking his lips?

“Uh,” he said, turning to you with cheeks bright-red from drinking too much, although you wondered if maybe it was because of something else. “Y-you—you don’t have to if you don’t wanna,” he whispered, his tongue dragging slowly over his lower lip as if he was trying to seduce you.

You cleared your throat, your whole body on fire with nerves as you shook your head and leaned toward him. “No,” you said decidedly. “No, let’s do it.”

“Wait, really?” Jimin asked, his eyes flitting between you and Jungkook at a rapid pace.

“Y-yeah,” you shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant despite feeling everything but. “As long as Jungkook is okay with it.”

Jungkook’s Adam’s Apple bobs and you try really hard to stare only a normal amount.

“Okay,” he squeaked.

He watched you with sparkling eyes as you leant forward, entering his space in ways you never thought you’d want to, but now craved like you craved a hot chocolate on a cold day—fervently, obsessively, like you’d be better off having it than not.

You kissed him.

It was wonderful and great and you almost lost yourself in it, but the smallest gasp from the person to your right (you can’t even remember their face) broke your spell…

“Fuck,” you whisper, pulling at your hair. “Fuck!”

You can’t believe that your first kiss with Jungkook happened during a game of dare in front of all your friends and his family.

Fuck.

“Y/N?”

You swivel around with wide eyes. Jungkook steps cautiously into the room as you wrap your arms around yourself, feeling unnaturally nervous when he closes the door gently behind him.

“Can we talk?” he asks, voice low and uncertain. You bite your lip but nod your consent, frozen in place even as Jungkook comes to stand in front of you. “I—“

“I’m so sorry,” you blurt before he can finish his thought, your hands flying out as you nervously wave them around. “Christ, Kook. I don’t know what I was thinking—”

“Bunny—“

“I’m so sorry.” Your feet unfreeze as you walk circles around him, ending with your back to the door. “I was just feeling tipsy and overly adventurous and- and—”

“Y/N.”

Jungkook grabs your hands, a soft, boyishly nervous smile on his face. “It’s okay,” he says softly.

Despite your relief, your stomach still drops to your feet. “It is?” you whisper.

He nods with a gentle hum, his eyes darting down to your lips and back up again. “I… really, really like you,” he exhales, his entire body seeming to deflate with the confession.

“I’ve liked you for a really long time now, and I know this may not be the best way to say it, but…” He takes a deep breath to hide his nerves, but the hopeful smile never leaves his face. “I think… maybe…?” He trails off slowly, maintaining eye contact as he waits for you to either confirm or deny what you know is him nonverbally saying that he’s noticed your emotional shift.

And god, does that scare you.

“Jungkook…”

“What?” he whispers. “What is it?” His face falls so suddenly that you wonder if it’s possible to feel phantom pain from an expression alone. “Do you… do you not like me back?”

“No, Jungkook, I…”

He defeatedly lowers his head, slowly letting go of your hands as he takes a shaky step back, exhaling hard. “But I thought…”

“Jungkook—“

He shakes his head, looking up like he’s trying not to cry. “It’s fine. That’s fine. We can just… we can just forget this happened—“

“No!” you yell suddenly, the nerves and alcohol in your system finally bubbling over even though Jungkook’s wide-eyed and confused deer-in-headlights look makes your knees feel weak. “We can’t forget this happened because that will fucking kill me.”

Jungkook blinks, slow and surprised and trying desperately to hop on the roller coaster your emotions seem to be taking you on. “What—?”

“I love you,” you say, nervous and giddy and scared but so fucking relieved, “I love you and I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long now and it was so good I won’t be able to stop thinking about it until it happens again, I just—” You take a deep breath, your heartbeat pounding against the back of your throat and the bass of your skull and the tips of your fingers. “I just can’t believe our first kiss happened during a game of dare,” you whisper.

Jungkook opens his mouth, but you speak before he has the chance to: “I know it’s dumb and petty and childish and all those other things, but I just… I really wanted it to be special.”

You breathe.

You ruminate in the tummy-churning silence that makes you almost nauseous until you finally take a step toward him.

You stand toe-to-toe, your noses touching as your chests heave almost in sync. Jungkook’s hands are stiff by his sides, your hands shaking where they take him by the shoulders.

“That does not take away from the fact that I really, really like you,” you whisper.

You exhale against his mouth, standing on the tips of your toes to finally press your lips to his.

The kiss itself doesn’t do anything particularly magical—you note that his lips are cushiony-soft and taste faintly of raspberry, but that’s it. No fireworks, no sparks, no the-world-stood-still-for-a-moment feeling in the center of your chest.

You know what does feel magical?

Jungkook’s hand at the back of your neck. Jungkook’s shoulders relaxing as he leans deeper into the kiss, his nose pressing against your cheek. Jungkook pulling you against him, pressing your chests together and letting out what you know by now is an excited whine.

You smile into the kiss, letting your hands slide up and into his hair, letting your nails drag across the nape of his neck. Jungkook shivers with a shaky sigh against your lips, attacking your mouth more fervently.

You make a surprised noise in the back of your throat when Jungkook pushes you back, nearly tripping over your own feet if not for his hand sitting firm on the small of your back. You grunt when you’re pushed roughly against the bedroom door, eating up Jungkook’s noises like a woman starved.

He groans into your kiss when you teasingly pull on his hair, kissing you so hard your teeth knock together.

It feels like forever before he lets you come up for air, resting your foreheads together as you catch your breath. You slide your hands around his face, gently squeezing the lobe of his ear—he whines loud and grips your sides a little harder—before you cup his face and guide his head back enough for you to look at him.

He’s panting and open-mouthed and shaking, his eyes blown so wide you struggle to pinpoint where his pupils start and his irises begin. Loose strands of disheveled hair hang in front of his eyes, long lashes framing his perfectly round cheeks…

“You’re so beautiful,” you mutter. “I don’t tell you enough.”

Jungkook licks his lips, bringing his hand to your face so he can run his thumb over your bottom lip. “You’ll have all the time in world,” he promises, “but for now…”

“Don’t stop kissing me.”

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[adnauseum11]

Permanent Change of Station (John Price x Reader)

You goad John and make a revelation.

2.6k words

CW: swearing, explicit sex (MDNI)

Feedback Welcome!

This work is part of the S.N.A.F.U. series, master list is pinned to my blog.

‘John! Slow down, you absolute muppet.”

You are practically panting, tugging hard on his hand after having to trot alongside his long strides for most of the way home. He finally seems to hear you and his next step is shortened, scaling back to a speed that allows you to pull even with him. 

“Sorry, love.” He acknowledges, his tone still brusque.

“Are you alright?” 

Now that you can catch your breath a bit, you’re concerned, John’s dragging you down the street out of character. You march beside him for a moment and he seems to chew your question over before giving the most unbelievable answer possible when you arrive at the front door.

“Yeah, I’m good.” 

You sigh, watching him fiddle with his keys. As you wait beside him you take in his body language, your slowly sobering brain working overtime on the puzzle that is John Price. The tension hasn’t left his body and his shoulders are tight. The set of his jaw is stern, his expression pinched. You wonder at his full-bodied reaction to some mindless drunk idiot, unsure if the change in his normal demeanour is your relatively new relationship status or something else. You decide to push the boundaries you used to stick to, instead of backing off. 

“John, you dragged me two blocks. What’s going on?” You follow him into the front hallway, shrugging out of your coat. 

“Not a fan of his hands on you, is all.” 

John answers, half turned away from you, the lines of his body still stiff with unspent energy. He’s hanging up the coats while you step out of your boots, watching him for clues. 

“Jealous? Of that guy?” 

You can’t help the incredulity in your tone and are rewarded with a sharp look from John. 

“Not jealous. Concerned for your safety.” 

He answers, facing you again. You are reminded of the size difference between you, and how much restraint John usually shows when he puts his hands on you. 

“My safety?”

John stays silent but his eyes are locked on you, the intensity not having left his face in the slightest. Your half-sober brain finally puts the pieces together, catching up with your mouth. John’s primed for a fight that isn’t coming, his body wound tight to react to a threat no longer there. Oh.

“Are you sure, John?” 

“Your safety is my business, especially now.” He’s still terse, his hands going to his hips as he stares you down, not enjoying the implications of being considered jealous over some pissant.

You can’t tell if it’s the beer still running through your veins or some inner swell of confidence but you sashay away from John, plucking the buttons of your work shirt open as you go. You’ve already decided the best course of action, whether he realizes it or not. 

“I’m safe, John. Are you going to be able to let it go, now?”

He’s watching your hands, following you down the hallway without any conscious thought. 

“Sure.” 

He answers with one word, not convincing you at all. His back is still straight and the tension is still visible in his body, even at a few steps from him as you are now. 

You look at him with a raised brow before dropping your shirt into the hamper. John watches you wiggle out of your work pants, standing in your underwear giving him a disbelieving look. He stands arms akimbo, focus intent, sucking up all the air in the room.

“Not very believable, handsome. Want to know what I think?” 

You pick your way over to him, your heart thrumming against your breastbone. You’ve poked at John before, but he’s usually in a better head space to take your prodding. You hope you aren’t biting off more than you can chew, his mood not so forgiving now. 

“Hmm?”

“I think you need to burn off this energy.”

“You complained at having to walk fast, darling.” 

John’s tone is sardonic and dismissive, but his eyes don’t leave you. You can feel the hairs raise on your body, anticipation spiralling through you.  

“Not like that, I think you need to fuck me.”

“What?” 

John’s eyebrows shoot up, clearly not expecting those words to come out of your mouth. His eyes darken though, a nod to the desire simmering between you all night that even he can’t will away. 

“You heard me.” You step into his space, your fingers walking up his stomach to follow the curve of his ribs. You grab two fistfuls of his shirt over his pecs, tugging him down so you can speak directly into his ear. “C’mon John, fuck me.”

It’s as if you have flipped a switch in the man, his hands wrapping around your biceps tightly, stepping into you and directing your body backwards into the wall with a thump. His hands lack the tenderness they normally have, now grasping and greedy, squeezing the softness of your curves as he pins you in place. 

“You make me fucking crazy; you know that?” 

John’s breath is hot at the base of your neck, making your belly swoop with lust. His gravelly voice is low, sending shivers down to the base of your spine as it washes over you, your fingers spreading over his belly. You’re trying to get your fingers under his shirt when John yanks it up between his shoulder blades, throwing it. You only get a moment to press your palms against the wiry hair of his warm belly before he’s jerking you around, making you face the wall. 

His palms pin your shoulders firmly, the unspoken message clear, don’t move. You make a small questioning sound before you can feel the whiskers of his face and his hot mouth on the base of your neck. His hands stroke down to your bra, undoing it to make way for his mouth, working down the vertebra of your spine. You can feel him kneeling, his knees on either side of your feet and his hands tugging your thong down, his whiskers and mouth in the small of your back. Your thighs clench together of their own volition, your flesh breaking out in goosebumps at his touch. His teeth closing on the globe of your ass makes you gasp and twist, a hand landing in his hair. A dark chuckle and he grips your wrist, removing your hand as he stands, spinning you around to face him again. 

Before you can say a single thing, he’s got your face between his palms, claiming your mouth with his lips and tongue, shutting any higher brain function down. Your hands wrap around his forearms, steadying yourself against his crowding body. He’s moving you again, your legs wobbly from the rush of desire coursing through you. John follows your stumbling steps, steering you into the bathroom as he devours your mouth, drinking in the small needy sounds you can’t help making. You’re panting when he breaks away, his hands bold on your body, twisting you around again, this time to face the mirror.

You can see your own kiss swollen lips, cheeks and chest flushed, nipples tight in the reflection. John’s face is dark with intent, one hand curling over your belly to cup your slit, his fingers sliding over your slick curls, his other landing on your back, forcing your forward. The pressure of his fingers coupled with his insistent pushing has the air leaving your lungs in a moan, and your hands scrambling for purchase on the sink counter. The little bottles of face cream and serum you had lined up scatter as you awkwardly brace yourself, John snugging his still clothed erection against the curve of your ass. 

“You want me to fuck you? I’ll fuck you. You’re going to watch.” 

John is hunched over you, speaking lowly into your ear, making your thighs clamp around his hand. Your face is inches from the mirror in this position, bent over the counter, and you watch your own pupils dilate as John slides a finger into you up to his knuckle, sending you onto your toes.

“Oh god –“

Your next words die on your lips, replaced with a throaty moan. John’s finger is rocking into you as he frees his twitching cock, the blue of his eyes a faint ring around his blown pupils. He presses the hot length of himself against your ass, trapping his hand between your thighs and the counter. The muscles of his arm dance as he works you over, adding a finger as he glides through your slick walls. The moment you find some purchase to grind against him he eases off, sliding his hand from your body to your frustrated whimper. You can see the tell-tale flush of his arousal working down his throat in his reflection, his eyes tracking your body’s movements in the mirror. 

“Hold still.” 

He orders darkly, and you obey, watching as he focuses on tracing your soaked slit with the flushed tip, making you gasp and bite your lip, your gaze meeting with his in the reflection. His hot eyes bore into yours as he presses into you, the stretch making your eyes widen and a whine build in your throat. The intensity in his eyes as he buries himself in you steals all thought, making you mindlessly arch your back and press back against him as best you can. He only gives you a moment to process before he starts moving, the weight of his thrusts driving your thighs into the counter. It’ll leave a bruise tomorrow but your focus is completely on the drive of John’s blunt cock, filling you over and over again, his hands gripping your hips. 

He sets a steady pace, his heavy thrusts forcing you to slap a palm against the mirror to keep your face from crashing into it. It gives you some purchase to push back against him, making him growl lowly, his fingers tightening on your flesh. 

“You like that, hmm? You take me so well, darling, you feel so good wrapped around me.” 

John’s rambling, his low voice more of a rumble in his chest, his palm insistent on your back again. The drag of his cock through your wetness, paired with the sinuous movement of his body in the mirror and his velvet voice is making you feel drunk again, caught spinning between sensations. You can hardly string together a reply, your words slurred as you fight to keep yourself from colliding with the mirror.

“Yes, John, just like that, fuck –“ 

You break off, John’s insistent fingers on your hips tugging you back to meet his thrusts. He bottoms out making you both moan, your body clenching around him. You can feel your slick arousal leaking, coating John’s hot flesh as his thrusts pick up speed. Your hair brushes the mirror as you lose your focus to John’s insistent cock, and then he’s threading his fingers through it, tugging your head back, the pull a counterpoint to his thrusts. 

The moans he’s pulling from you are only raising in pitch, bouncing in the bathroom’s acoustics as you get caught between sensations. Each jolting thrust tugs your hair by the root, sending wave after wave of tingles through your scalp and back down your spine to your pussy. You whine as your muscles involuntarily clamp down on him, an answering guttural groan torn from his chest at the pressure. 

“Oh shit, that’s so good, don’t stop.” 

You manage to pant out, your voice needy and your eyes heavy lidded with pleasure, inches from your own face in the mirror. Your inner muscles are starting to flutter, a tell-tale sign of your impending orgasm. John doesn’t break his rhythm or let go of your hair, slapping your ass, the sting bringing you onto your toes. Your body bears down on him in surprise, making you push back on the mirror and John hisses, his grip on your hair tightening.

“Fucking hell, look at me.” 

John orders, his voice dark and his face intense. You drag your gaze from his flexing body to his eyes, suddenly feeling like you are being swallowed whole. Goosebumps break out, unable to look away as John’s thrusts turn slightly frantic, the wet sounds of your flesh meeting getting louder and more insistent. His grip on your hair brings you back onto your toes, your back arched and hips canted. Your hands on the mirror leave smudges as they slip, your body coiling taut and fighting for release. 

“I want to watch you cum around me”

His voice wraps around you, pouring into your ear and going straight to your pussy. He smacks your ass again roughly, and you jerk, your head bobbing and your hair tugging in his grip. He doesn’t relent, staring you down as he bucks into your body, his eyes two dark pools of desire, sucking you in.

“Cum for me, love.”

The authoritative snap of his command��does something to your insides and your eyes widen as your orgasm slams into you suddenly, making your fingers curl against the glass of the mirror. John thrusts deep, releasing your hair to grip your hips tightly as you shudder, clenching around him as you cum with a rattling cry, your body tensing below his. He rides out your pulsing orgasm for a few heartbeats, watching your eyes finally flutter closed before he pulls out, making you whine. He strokes himself tightly until he spills thick ropes of cum on your lower back, hissed curses drifting over your slumped shoulders. There’s nothing but panting moans and the weight of John sagging against you, the world narrowed to the two of you as you struggle to catch your breath.

It takes John a moment to gather himself, your own legs feeling shaky as you lean your weight on the sink counter. He lifts and you feel him stroking a cloth over your back a moment later, cleaning you up.

“You alright, love?” His palm slowly smooths up your spine, squeezing the base of your neck.

You hum an affirmative and John’s hands wrap around your arms, pulling you upright again and turning you to face him. The fiery intensity in his eyes is gone, replaced with warmth as he searches your face for a moment. Satisfied with whatever he sees he kisses you, wrapping you in his arms when you sway slightly, still unsteady.

“Will you shower with me?” 

You ask, and it’s John’s turn to hum an affirmative, wrangling you close enough to turn the water on. You press your cheek into his chest, leaning into his solid body as the steam starts to accumulate in the room. You try to swallow the emotion suddenly clawing up your throat but John sees your face as he disentangles from you so you can get into the shower.

“What’s wrong?” 

He’s following you in, letting you stand under the water while he frowns down at you. You try to shake your head and dismiss it but he’s not having it, cupping your face to make you look at him.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

“Darling-“

You realize he’s not going to let it go after a moment and bite your lip, gripping his wrists tightly, wishing you were a better liar. This is not how you pictured having this conversation. There doesn’t seem to be any way to escape this without making it a bigger issue though. 

“John – I’m… I think I’m in love with you.”

He’s breathing your name, a smile stretching across his lips, genuine delight taking years off his face.

“You know I’m in love with you too, darling. I’d do anything for you.” 

You can feel his smile against yours when he kisses you repeatedly, and can feel the satisfaction in his touch when he derails the shower in short order, unable to keep his hands to himself. 

Next Chapter

Ao3

Tag list:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @itr-00 @batw3nch @writeforfandoms @chloepluto1306

[artiststarme]

It's No Secret... Anymore

Thank you to @mx-jinxous for the prompt! This took a really long time to write but it was so much fun playing with everyone's dynamics. I hope you guys like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Steve felt like he was dreaming. It felt like he was looking through someone else’s eyes, dissociating far from his own body. He couldn’t feel the weight of Eddie’s slowly-fading body in his arms or the burning of the wounds in his sides. He wasn’t aware of where he was or if anyone was following him. He was purely relying on muscle memory and muscle memory alone. 

He didn’t see the speeding car in front of him that swerved into a nearby bush and fence post. He hardly noticed the hands pulling him backward and out of the road. He came back to himself though once he heard his brother’s voice. 

“Steve? Steve-O? Come on buddy, you’re worrying me here. Where have you been? I haven't seen your ass all week. Come on man, are you… are you fucking bleeding? Brother, answer me. We can’t be out here, there’s an earthquake going on. Come with me.”

Steve blinked just to come face to face with Phil. He was shining his flashlight on Eddie’s face against Steve’s shoulder but his eyes were focused directly on Steve’s.

“You with me, bro?” His mustache twitched unhappily and Steve rushed to answer. 

“Um, no. Not really. I think he’s dying and I kinda might be too. And I think my friends are missing? Where am I?” Steve couldn’t get his thoughts together cohesively. His mind was fractured, overcome with too much trauma in too little time. 

Phil just looked more concerned at his words with his face becoming vaguely panicked once he looked at Eddie. He looked quickly up at Steve, down at Eddie, then back at Steve. “Is this Eddie Munson? The murderer Eddie Munson? The Eddie Munson that has been on the run all week? Good golly Steve, I’m trying not to curse but what the fuck?”

Steve just looked at the pinched expression of pain that Eddie held and murmured, “he’s my friend.”

“Oh my god, Steve. Fine, we’ll deal with this later. Think you can walk to my squad car? I kinda damaged the front end but I’m sure it's semi-driveable. Powell’s tied up with the gates to hell opening up, I have plenty of time to take care of you.”

“Yeah, I can- I can walk,” and he could with the support of Phil. He felt his brother supporting both his and Eddie’s weight until they were deposited into the backseat of the patrol unit. 

“And uh, is the girl hiding in the bushes with you? She’s kinda been watching us for awhile. You might have a stalker, little bro.” He shined his flashlight over to the bush and saw a sandy bob duck behind the foliage. 

“Robin?” Steve muttered, still out of it and only on the verge of consciousness. 

“Buckley, is that you? Come on, you’re coming with us back to Steve’s place. Let’s go,” Phil waved the light between the two. He had both hands on his hips and stood like a disappointed middle-aged dad. “I don’t have time to be doing things willy-nilly. Let’s go!”

Robin poked her head out of the bushes and scooted gracelessly over to the car until she was able to bump elbows with Steve. They both relaxed a smidgen within the same space, the two brain cells reuniting after a stressful ten minutes apart.

Phil hopped in the driver’s seat and bumped his head against the steering wheel. What had this idiot gotten himself into now?

~*~*~*~

By the time Phil arrived at his house at the edge of the suburbs, all three kids were out cold in his backseat. He stood at the open back door for a moment before sighing and lugging first Robin, then Eddie, then Steve into his living room, huffing with exertion all the while. He would definitely have to cut back on the station donuts and start exercising again. Right after he dealt with the dying fugitive on his brother’s couch, the blood seeping through Steve’s shirt, and his brother’s unconscious best friend that was snoring atrociously. 

Jesus Christ. 

Well, he had plenty of practice with medical care from his EMT training so he got to work. He got the first aid kit out of the squad car and started with the murderous Munson. Phil didn’t know what had happened to these kids but it couldn’t be any good. Munson’s entire torso was torn apart like he’d been gnawed on by a wild animal. It wasn’t bleeding too bad but he was missing chunks of skin, so much so that Phil couldn’t sew him up with just sutures. Hell, this kid was going to need skin grafts. A lot of them. 

He put gauze on the worst of the wounds then cautiously stepped over to Steve. What he’d seen on Munson made him hesitant to look at the damage but surely it couldn’t be worse than that. Right? As soon as he lifted Steve’s shirt, he came immediately to two conclusions. 

1. Steve had a lot more chest hair than he did and that was totally unfair.

2. The wounds on Steve’s abdomen were deep, infected, and horrific. 

Just like with Munson, there was nothing to close. All he saw were missing chunks of skin and muscle that should have been in his sides. The marred remains were covered in grime and yellowish puss that made the entire room smell of infection. 

Fuck, he couldn’t help them here. He had to get them, all three of them because he wasn’t touching an unconscious girl for anything, to a hospital. But that begged the question; which hospital? Munson… Eddie was wanted all through the state of Indiana for at least three murders and an assault. If he took him to any nearby hospital, he would be arrested and surely there was more to the story if Steve was protecting him so much. He couldn’t let one of Steve’s only friends get arrested without hearing the story from the both of them. 

He had to take these three up to a hospital in Illinois. Chicago was roughly four hours away, he knew from his and Steve’s annual visits to their great aunt in Evanston. It was a risk, both for aiding and abetting a wanted fugitive as well as hoping he survived that long of a drive, but his gut told him to trust his brother on this one. So that’s what he did. He loaded the three teens back into his patrol car and mumbled swears under his breath when he passed the “Leaving Hawkins” sign. He hoped to all that was mighty that he was making a good call. 

~*~*~*~

Steve woke up to familiar voices; one hushed and one screeching. 

“You kidnapped them?! You’re a cop, I thought you would help them but instead you drove them all the way to goddamn Chicago like some middle-aged pervert loser?” Steve came around to a loud argument between what sounded like Dustin and Phil. It was weird though because he’d never introduced the two. 

“Hey, listen here shithead, words hurt. I am not middle-aged, I’m 28. And why would I kidnap my own brother? I can legally take him anywhere, it's practically my birthright. I don’t have to go through all the work of kidnapping him.” Phil shook his head at Dustin.

“Stop trying to trick me, I know Eddie is an only child!”

“Munson?! I’m Steve’s big brother, you little gremlin. Can’t you see the resemblance?” He gestured between where Steve was groggily looking up at him and then back at himself. 

“No, but I can’t see anything past your outrageous mustache.” Steve saw Phil’s jaw drop and knew that Dustin had crossed a line. 

“You short fucker, that is too far! I take a lot of pride in this ‘outrageous mustache’,” Phil put air quotes around the offending remake before pointing an aggressive finger in Dustin’s direction. “I will absolutely take you off the visitation list, toothless. Do not test me.” 

“Don’t threaten me, I’ll report you to the authorities!” Dustin countered. 

“I am the authorities!” Phil dropped all decorum and screamed at practically the top of his lungs. 

Sensing enough was enough, Steve tried to push himself up to a sitting position before a burning in his sides caused him to fall back down. Both men (or one man and Dustin) stopped their squabbling and rushed to his sides.

“Steve, you’re hurt so don’t try to get up. Shit kid, let me get a nurse or something. You weren’t doing too hot.” With that Phil sprinted out of the room, presumably to the nurse’s station and Steve was left with Dustin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Robin. 

He looked blearily at all of them before asking the most important question, “where’s Eddie?”

They all parted to reveal Eddie lying in the bed next to him. His neck and chest were covered with bandages but his face looked peaceful. There were no cuffs on his wrists as Steve assumed there would be. He laid back again and let out a sigh. Everything was as it should be, he could finally relax.

“Um so Steve, don’t be mad but your brother can be really persuasive when he wants to be and you never introduced him as your brother so I just kind of assumed that we were getting captured by the police and that it was going to be so much worse than the Russians because I always thought Officer Callahan was kind of psycho. But then I woke up here and he bought me Cheetos so everything is fine. Except it's kind of not because you and Eddie have been out for a couple of days and I told Big Not-Harrington about the Upside Down and now he’s really worried. Why did you have to stay asleep so long, dingus? I missed you!”

Steve honestly zoned out when he heard “Cheetos” and only tuned back in when Robin, the usual physical affection-hater, threw herself on top of him in a hug. He withheld the grunt of pain and held her back just as hard. 

“What the hell just happened, bro? Like that was a lot of words, little bird lady. Woah.”

Steve didn’t know if he was hallucinating the long-haired surfer in a Hawaiian outfit or if Vecna had somehow managed to melt his mind after all but he had never been more confused in his life to see the new visitor make themselves known. 

“Who the fuck is that?” He muttered in absolute bafflement. 

Dustin sighed as he too wrestled a hug from Steve, “that’s Argyle. Come on, Steve. Keep up.”

“Like the sock pattern? How many drugs am I on right now?!”

~*~*~*~

“... and that’s kind of why I didn’t tell you about the Upside Down,” Steve finished from his seat beside Eddie, their hands tangled together as they both sat across from Phil. 

He looked at both of them with a completely deadpan stare. “Again, but the truth this time.”

Eddie huffed in annoyance. “We are telling you the truth, man! An evil wizard guy named Vecna-”

“Slash Henry, slash One,” Steve and Robin interjected in unison.

“-possessed four teenagers to end the world or something and broke their bodies apart with his mind. Then the angry mob thought it was me but I would never kill anyone, especially not Chrissy. She was always really nice to me and remembered my band from the talent show in middle school. And then we got stuck in Hell where evil demon bats ate our flesh and tentacles ripped through the earth. Then we saved Nancy from the evil mind melt powers by playing her favorite song. After that, we made a plan and she shot Vecna and killed him while Dustin and I were decoys where I was attacked.”

“Then I went back for Eddie and carried him out where you almost ran us over. The end,” Steve emphasized the finale with a deliberate nod of his still-aching head. 

Phil looked at them with the most exasperation Steve had ever seen in his life. He let out a pitying chuckle, his poor brother didn’t sign up for this. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

Phil's eyes rolled so hard that Steve could tell he saw stars. He could almost see the scream being prepared in his throat and couldn't gather enough strength to escape it.

"STEVEN MICHAEL HARRINGTON, WHAT THE MOTHERLOVING FUCK?!"

"Look Philly, I'll say it one more time then I'm done, okay? It first started way back when Will Byers went missing in 1983..."

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[aphroditeinthesea]

heyyyy could you write jason x daughter of Poseidon. where the reader gets taken with percy to camp jupiter and when the argo two arrives jason and the reader slowly become flirty friends. but at a very unfortunate time they flirting turns too real.

“ sparks fly ”

jason grace x daughter of poseidon ⚡️

i really don’t like how this turned out but i hope it’s okay that this is half hcs, half one shot-ish and tbh i didn’t wanna post this but also didn’t wanna like ignore this request

⋆ ˚｡ 𓆟 🌊 𓆞 ˚｡ ⋆

- y/n was holding onto her brother’s arm as she tried to get through the crowd of people

- “is that…?”

- but her brother didn’t hear as his green eyes locked with grey ones

- but she heard reyna speak and her attention turned to someone else

- “jason grace, my former colleague”

- when she looked forward, she saw the most beautiful boy she had ever laid eyes on

- although she was soon distracted by her brother leaving her grasp

- she let go of his arm and let him run to his girlfriend

- as everyone watched the scene unfold, she turned to look back at the son of jupiter

- only to find blue eyes meeting hers

- she quickly looked away but couldn’t hide the pink on her cheeks

- when she got to know him, the way she felt only grew

- she found herself doing everything in her power to talk to him

- sitting next to him at meals or even acting like she needed help with something she could completely do herself

- “hey, jason, can you grab that for me?” she would ask, pointing to a high shelf

- “yeah of course,” he would always respond

- but she would watch as his shirt would slightly show his abs as he leaned up

- and percy would be standing behind her like🧍‍♂️

- but when a monster attacked the ship and was 2 seconds away from killing jason???

- y/n was there in a second, slicing that monster

- and jason was like “that was amazing for someone who can’t open a jar of pickles”

- and she was like “i know right”

- or when she came into his room late at night after having a nightmare

- “is it okay if i stay with you?” she whispered into the darkness

- “of course,” he was already awake so he scooted over to make room for her

- she quickly took the spot next to him and let herself burrow next to him

- “why didn’t you ask your brother?”

- she couldn’t think of an answer

- after all, there was her brother or annabeth, who she had known for far longer than the boy she laid next to

- she just sighed and finally spoke again

- “i knew you’d be awake”

- that wasn’t the last time she did that either

- every nightmare she had, she would find her way to his room where he welcomed her with open arms

- but when percy and annabeth fell into tartarus, the nightmares only worsened

- night after night, she would wake up in a sweat

- she got too embarrassed to keep bothering jason, which he took notice to

- one night he found her sitting in the mess hall, staring off into space

- “y/n?”

- she looked up at him and tried to force a smile

- “are you okay?”

- “why wouldn’t i be?”

- he took the seat next to her, “can’t sleep?”

- she shook her head, “i just know i’ll be waking up soon enough from a nightmare, so why even try?”

- he worriedly looked at her, but she wouldn’t even face him

- “you need to sleep, y/n,” he whispered

- she stayed silent

- “you can stay in my room, i really don’t mind”

- still silence

- “y/n?”

- “i don’t have a crush on you,” she suddenly spoke and looked up at him

- his eye widened, “what?”

- “i thought i had a crush on you, but i don’t, jase”

- he felt his heart heavy as he still stared at her

- “jason, i am so in love with you”

- he completely froze, his brain basically short circuiting

- kind of literally too as his hands slightly sparked when she spoke

- “i’m sorry, i had to tell you. there’s just so much going on right now, and trying to hide that was just one more thing i had to stress about”

- “no, y/n, it’s okay”

- “really?”

- “really.”

- she looked away, “i should get to bed anyways”

- she began walking away but he followed behind her, “wait”

- she turned around, waiting for the embarrassment to hit her

- but instead only a pair of lips did

- “i love you, too.”

- she didn’t say anything as she pulled him into another kiss

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter five

summary: you and luca finally talk about what happened the night of the ballet -- and finally have a chance to clear the air.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, conversations about divorce, slow burn, baby, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 3k

a/n: let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

part four | masterlist | part six

You’ve been avoiding his calls all day. 

After Luca bid you goodnight on Thursday, you’d practically sprinted upstairs and into your apartment, slamming the door behind you while wondering what the hell was wrong with you?

You’re too stubborn for your own good, you think to yourself, recalling the moment – the one where you could’ve kissed him but you didn’t – between you and Luca. You stood there, too paralyzed to make a move, yet unable and unwilling to walk away from him. 

Luca had given you space most of yesterday, save for a text later in the evening, but the fact that today is Saturday, the day he almost always comes into the restaurant, is not lost on you. Instead of dealing with it, you’ve been hyper focused all day, choosing to bury your head in work as you run lunch service with Mathilde, more than grateful that business has run at a steady pace today. 

It’s not until you hit a stop, forced to pause after a few hours in between the lunch and dinner rush, reaches a lull. Your brain is suddenly inundated with too many thoughts: was this it? Had you scared him away forever? Did he think you were a total freak considering you’d practically run away from him after he’d said goodnight?

“So are we going to talk about it?” Mathilde presses you, ripping you out of your thoughts with the sound of her voice. You look her way, noticing that her lips pursed in sheer annoyance at your avoidance mechanisms. 

Your face falls, unable to carry this solo for much longer, letting out a sigh of resignation because you know she’s right. 

You can’t run from this – from your feelings, from Luca – forever. 

“Yeah,” you give in. “Yeah, okay.”

“What the hell happened?” Mathilde hisses as she approaches you. “I mean, he’s gorgeous, he’s cultured… he took you out to the ballet, and you like him!”

“I don’t know,” you huff, disappointedly. “I just-, I think I got too caught up in my head. It’s like one minute I was really jazzed at the idea of being on a date, let alone a date with Luca, and the next I’m just… I don’t know… totally psyching myself out and pushing him away.”

“Merde,” she swears in French this time. 

“Fuck,” you sigh, at least releasing a little of the pent up pressure you’ve been holding onto all day. 

“Babe, I know that holding all of this,” she begins, gesturing wildly towards you, “gives you a certain edge in the kitchen… but I can’t imagine it’s good for you.”

You send her another look – one that says ‘fuck off because I know you’re right’ this time. 

“I don’t know what to do, Mathilde,” you confess, your eyes pleading with her for some advice. 

She turns to you, this time with a much more serious expression as she says, “Luca seems like a really great guy. Maybe you should just tell him all of this.” 

You nod slowly as you process. It’s not that you haven’t thought about it – it’s not like it’s a new concept to you – you were married once, after all. But the idea of being vulnerable like that, showing someone new your whole hand feels really scary. You know it’s the thing you need to do; it’s the kindest, most honest option that you have – and you know that Luca deserves just that: kindness, transparency, the truth. 

As you continue to think it over, the only words that come to you are:

“I told him that I wasn’t in love with him anymore – with Joe. When he asked.”

“Luca?”

“Yeah.”

“It wasn’t a lie. Was it?” Mathilde questions you carefully. 

You share your head, growing more and more certain in your answer. 

“No, of course not. It’s not that. My hesitation has never been about Joe. It’s-, it’s about me…” you explain, finding the right words in the moment. “... about my heart.”

Mathilde places a gentle hand on your shoulder as you share a knowing look as she listens.

“What if I do this? I mean, what if I jump… and it’s a horrible mess… and I ruin a good thing with a really great guy because I’m not ready?” you ask, shining a light on your biggest fears. 

She takes a beat, thinking it over, before crossing her arms over her chest, as the two of you stand side by side, leaning up against a stainless steel prep station. 

“Then you do,” she answers, as if it were that simple. “And you figure out the rest. You’re only human after all.” 

You chuckle, playfully rolling your eyes at Mathilde’s not-so-friendly reminder. 

“Here’s an idea,” she starts back up again, catching your attention as you glance sideways to look at her. “What if you jump? And it’s the best thing you’ve ever done? What if it’s worth it?” 

You take a deep breath, letting her words sink in, letting yourself feel the possibility that this could also be the best thing you’ve ever done too. But before you can say anything in response, Jesper comes back into the kitchen, calling for you. 

“Hate to break up the slumber party, ladies, but can I borrow you for a moment, Chef?” he asks, making it clear that he’s talking to you. You and Mathilde exchange glances as Jesper nods through the open kitchen to where Luca waits for you in the dining room. You open your mouth to say something, but instead, you just nod, murmuring a ‘yeah, of course,’ quick to follow Jesper out of the kitchen. 

It’s impeccable timing, really, you think to yourself, that you were just contemplating the possibility that this could be something you could do. 

You could jump, you remind yourself, if you really wanted to. 

“Hi,” you say, barely above a whisper as soon as you see Luca. 

“Hi,” he smiles warmly in return, causing Jesper to look from you to Luca, then back to you again. 

“I’m just gonna-,” he starts, searching for an excuse. 

Only, he doesn’t have one, so Jesper simply excuses himself before disappearing into the kitchen to find a place where he and Mathilde both can pretend to do something when really eavesdropping. 

Jesper’s abrupt and clumsy exit seems some of the palpable tension, earring a laugh from both you and Luca. 

“I thought-,” he begins as you simultaneously say, “I’ve been meaning to call-.”

“Sorry,” he says with an apologetic half smile. 

“No I’m-. You go first,” you encourage, blushing on a little as the two of you clumsily dance around each other. 

Luca takes a breath, reminding himself that it wouldn’t be this weird if there wasn’t something between the two of you – that he hasn’t been imagining this – not even a little bit. 

“I hope that it’s okay. That I’m here,” he finally says, his voice steady and even. 

“I-, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” you ask him, suddenly insecure about the fact that he felt he needed to ask in the first place. 

“I just-, well I thought ehm, maybe you’d need some space. I didn’t want to ehm, you know… show up here if-, even though it’s Saturday because it is your place and I wouldn’t want-,” Luca tries to explain, stopping and starting again and again. 

“Luca, no I-,” you say, before pausing, swearing to yourself under your breath as you mutter. “Shit. Fuck, I-. Goddamn, you really are fucking perfect.”

“What was that?” Luca asks, only catching the swearing part at the beginning and the ‘fucking perfect’ part at the end. 

“Um…” you trail off, looking around you. 

As you catch Jesper and Mathilde ducking behind a shelf out of the corner of your eye, and a few of your waitstaff hurrying to make it look like they’re busy and not listening in, you realize that you and Luca have managed to earn the attention of some very curious onlookers. 

“Do you want to step outside for a moment?” you ask, gesturing towards the front door. 

“Sure,” he nods, letting you lead him to a spot outside.

You make sure that you're both as out of sight as possible, staying far away from the broad windows that line the front of your restaurant. 

“Hi,” you say again on an exhale.

“Hi,” he says back, simply. 

“I’m glad you came. I know I-... I should’ve called, or- or texted you… after Thursday,” you begin, nervously, eager to own up to the very big part you’ve played in the lack of communication.

“Yes. You should’ve,” he repeats, his eyes catching yours as you nod in confirmation. 

It’s good – that he’s not going to let you off the hook – and while you like it, you like that he has boundaries, you’re disappointed in yourself as you say:

“I’m sorry.”

Luca sighs, shaking his head as he immediately counters with:

“No, I’m sorry. I mean, yes, you should’ve called. Or at least texted. But I should’ve been clear in the first place that Thursday…” he trails off, almost as if he’s mustering up the courage to say what he needs to say. 

“... that Thursday was more to me than our regular excursions. That it was a date. To me at least.”

“Luca-.”

“I wish I would’ve told you – made it clear in the first place – so you knew what you were getting into,” Luca finishes, carefully watching for your reaction. There’s something so honest in the way he goes about this conversation, and you sure as hell feel like you could take the proverbial jump right fucking now. 

“I appreciate that. Really, I do…” you start, before trailing off again. “But I-. This isn’t on you, Luca.”

“How do you mean?” he asks you, his expressive brows knitted together, as if you’d just spoken in tongues. 

Here goes nothing, you think to yourself.

“I-. This has been great. I mean… I really like spending time with you,” you start, anxiously, instantly realizing that it sounds like you’re breaking up with him. “Fuck, I-.” 

You let out a frustrated groan as it seems you’re having an impossible time getting out what you need to get out. You take a breath. And a beat, before continuing. 

“And I’ve really liked this… hanging out, getting to know you… borrowing your books. I-, I just… we’ve got such a good thing going and I really don’t want to fuck this up, you know?”

He sighs your name this time, looking down for a moment as you add:

“I’m-, I’m afraid that… I’m going to fuck this up.”

“Yeah. I know,” he answers, heavily. “I-, I am too.”

“And then Thursday night, things were so, so good, and I-, I panicked and I feel terrible because… you don’t deserve that. You don’t.”

Luca takes a beat as he listens. He’s not sure what exactly that means, but he reminds himself to stay on track, stay the course and make sure that he says what he came here to say to you. 

“It’s alright,” he reassures you, softly, taking a step towards you. “I don’t want you to feel like… like you have to feel a certain way just because I-.”

“No, that’s not it! That’s not-, that’s really not the problem,” you interject as you struggle to explain yourself, unsure of where to even begin. You take a step towards him this time too, your voice softening as you continue. “Luca, I don’t feel obligated to feel… any kind of way just because you-.”

“Because I?” he questions you.

The silence his questions leaves goes on a few beats longer than you expected, and you realize that he’s waiting for you to fill in the blank. 

“Well, I don’t know,” you pause, a shocked look on your face as one of you waits for the other.

“You didn’t-, I never let you finish your sentence so,” you ramble aimlessly, immediately bursting out into a fit of laughter as you realize that neither of you are getting anywhere. 

Luca laughs too, joining in on the much needed reprieve. 

The two of you exchange glances, and one more shared laugh, before settling in once again. 

With a crooked smile spread across his lips, Luca can take a hint, realizing that he may need to take the lead on this one.

The way your name sounds on his lips is so heavenly, so divine, so soft that you know you’ve got it bad, as you scramble for a way to tell him everything that you’ve been feeling. 

“May I?” he asks, in reference to taking the lead. 

“Please.”

“I just came here to tell you… I want to tell you…” he corrects himself, taking a step towards you. 

“... that I really like you. I really like spending time with you. I like that you get me out of the kitchen in search of something different. And I think that your mind, even though incredibly neurotic, is absolutely brilliant. And if what you need is for us to be friends right now, I want that. We can… slow all of this down. All you’ve got to do is talk to me.”

It feels like time fucking stops, and the world goes black and white for a moment, then full color all at once as you hear the words coming out of his mouth. Your revelation comes rushing in, clear as day – that this man cares so deeply for you and that maybe, your heart could be safe with him. Unsure of how to deal with the grace and compassion Luca is showing you, you’re only left with one question, as it falls from your lips like a boulder. 

“How?”

“What?”

“How do you always have the right thing to say…” you ask him, your voice caught in your throat as you finish your question.  “... when I only have the wrong things to say?”

Luca opens his mouth to say something you’ll never hear, as you choose to completely throw caution to the wind. 

Perhaps the question was rhetorical anyways. 

You’re not sure what’s coms over you, but instead of words, you only have actions left, and the only thing that will remedy the situation is to do the thing that you’ve been panicking over doing since Luca showed you into the pastry room at AOC. You charge forward, reaching out for him, and he’s right there with you, meeting you halfway as you eagerly press your lips to his. 

You can feel all the blood in your body rush through you as your lips connect. Your heart flutters. Your head spins. It’s the kind of kiss that people write sonnets about – write love songs about. It’s almost three months of simmering tension, finally allowed to reach its boiling point. You pull away, just for a moment, uttering out a breathless:

“Holy shit.”

Luca laughs with a shake of his head as he agrees with a, “Yeah.”

You exchange a look, and a laugh, before kissing him again. 

And this time the kiss is a hello, it’s a new beginning, it’s a ‘thank god I met you.’

This time, Luca pulls away, reluctantly releasing you as he does. 

“It’s not that I don’t like this,” he begins, using all of his restraint to put this on pause. “I really, really do, but… I’m kind of getting mixed signals here.”

“No, no, I know,” you apologize, turning as you hear your name called, swearing under your breath again as soon as you see Mathilde peeking her head out of the front door. 

“Oh… my God! I am so sorry, I’ll just-, except for we need you to-, she calls after you, stumbling over her words as soon as she realizes what’s going on between you and Luca. 

“Nevermind it can wait!” Jesper exclaims, poking his head out of the front door as well, before dragging Mathilde back into the restaurant.

You and Luca exchange another laugh. 

“They’re… something,” you chuckle, with a shake of your head. 

“Good wingmen,” Luca adds, mirroring your previous exchange with his coworker. 

Returning his focus to you, Luca shakes his head incredulously, considering this is not the way he thought this conversation would go. He grins as he takes you in, but knows that this is time limited. He’d noticed the curious staff of your restaurant that he’s come to know and love doing their best to pretend they weren’t listening in on your conversation earlier. They know exactly what’s going on here, so if they felt the need to interrupt, Luca knows that you’re most likely needed back in the kitchen. 

He shifts his weight in between both of his feet, taking a small step back as he states:

“We’re gonna have to talk about this.”

“Yes,” you agree, your declaration certain.

“But right now you have to go,” Luca continues. 

“Right now I have to go,” you echo as confirmation. “Later. I promise. We’ll talk. Tonight?”

“Yeah ehm. Not to be… presumptuous. But my place is closeby. We could… perhaps talk. Tonight. There?” Luca suggests, trying to downplay the fact that it sounds like he’s asking you to come over for a booty call. 

It’s certainly not his intention, considering he’d just offered to slow things down, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. 

“Yeah. I’ll text you,” you agree, suddenly nervous again. “When I’m done here. If you’re still up.”

“It’s a date,” Luca agrees, deciding to move in towards you again.

You nod, taking another step towards him so that you can kiss him again. 

“Oh, and Luca?”

He hums in response, his eyes flickering from yours to your lips because he really can’t wait to kiss you again either. . 

“I should be-. I want to be clear,” you begin, deciding to be brave in this moment. 

He raises an eyebrow. 

“I really like you too,” you say, before standing tall on your tiptoes, and pulling him down to you for, this time, a see-you-later kiss. 

----------------------------

a/n: ummm hi how are we doing is everyone doing ok?!

[courtingchaos]

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

I didn’t edit this, barely read it over, and it has no title. Just trying something new with spitting some stuff out to get the ideas moving again. These cogs are frozen.

Professor Munson Masterlist

“You’re home early!” You shout from upstairs.

Ed shrugs out of his coat and throws his bag on the bench by the door. “Yeah. I was trying to beat the traffic before it started snowing.” He’d gotten out of the parking garage and directly into said traffic, cursing and yelling the whole time. Two hours later he’s finally home albeit in a sour mood.

“It’s snowing?” You’re moving between rooms, he can hear your voice shifting and he has to stop himself from telling you to look out a window. Instead he just nods into the empty foyer while he empties his pockets onto the table there and he wonders when he got so much furniture that he has dedicated entryway pieces.

“Are you in a good mood or should I leave you alone for a bit?” Your head pops over the railing with a smile.

“Why?”

“I have a surprise but I don’t want a bad mood to ruin it.”

“I’m not gonna-”

“I didn’t say you I said your mood.”

Ed sighs and rubs his eyes till his vision color bursts. “Give me a minute.”

“Okay.” Gracious as always to his old man moods you move into his office and he can hear you futzing with his set up in there. The static of speakers coming to life and the shuffling of his records follows him into the kitchen where he stares into an open fridge with no purpose.

It’s November and that means it’s time for his brain to betray him and remind him of his mother. He always does better on the anniversary of her death but something about her birthday gets him. 51 missed celebrations and if he lets his thoughts linger he’ll have another breakdown in the kitchen. This morning had been an accident, his shuffle throwing on ‘Stand By Me’ and Ed had the pleasure of crying into his English muffin before he realized he was running late. He’d deftly avoided music for the rest of the day and driven the whole two hours in silence out of fear of getting stuck in gridlock and getting sucked into another crying jag.

You’ve given him space the past few days with his distant behavior. Noncommittal grunts answering your questions and quiet stares that follow you around the house. He knows he’s being difficult but he can’t seem to pull himself out of it. However you seem to be his saving grace, taking his silence and doing what you can with it. Gentle touches to let him know you’re there, fingers combing through his hair in the middle of the night when he should be asleep. Instead of him bringing you coffee on Sunday you’d gotten up a full hour before him to complete the ritual. Crouched beside the bed to wake him up quietly, a light finger along the shell of his ear.

“Good morning.”

“Mm.”

“It’s cold out today.”

“Then get back in bed.” He grapples at your hand lazily to try and pull you over him and you let him. Flopped over his chest awkwardly he wraps warm arms around you and for a moment you think he’s already drifting off again.

“Ed?”

A beat before he takes a deep breath and you feel the catch under you. “I miss my mom.”

“Oh hun.” It’s the last thing you say for a while. Fingers card through soft curls and hold his head to your chest and he gets to be vulnerable for a while. Head buried in you, he lets his coffee go cold.

He thumps up the stairs slowly and you come out to greet him on the top step.

“You feeling better?” You’re hiding something behind you, hands tucked tight behind your back to keep his prying eyes away.

“Moderately. What’s the surprise?”

“I’m not telling you out here, come on.” You hold an empty hand out to him to guide him into his office and into his chair.

“So. I spent some money today.”

“Is that the surprise?”

“Kind of. There was an estate sale down the block, you remember Mr. Donaghue?”

“Yeah, the old man who yelled at me for having pumpkins on my stoop after Halloween?”

“Exactly.” You giggle at his outburst. “Well as you know, he passed away.”

“Mm.”

“Don’t be like that.” You circle around the desk to his record player and point a finger at him. “He wasn’t all bad, he just didn’t like pumpkins.”

Ed hums again but you continue, grabbing a square package wrapped in newspaper to drop in his lap. It’s heavy when it hits and he gives you a confused look.

“It turns out he was quite the music collector. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many 8-tracks in my life.”

“Did you buy me a stack of 8-tracks?”

You swat at his knee and lean on the corner of his desk. “Just open it.”

The top record sleeve in the stack is red and blue and worn around the edges. Otis Redding smiles up at him and he can feel his throat get tight.

“I heard you listening to it this morning. Sorry.” Your smile is a little sad. “I know these aren’t her’s, but these are all original pressings.”

Under Otis is a sleeve in plastic, Muddy Waters’ face turned to the ceiling. He can hear the the mournful picking of ‘Louisiana Blues’ coming from a distant memory that he’s been pushing back for a few days.

“They cut me a nice deal, his kids. I told them about you loosing your collection and his son was moved.” You laugh and run your foot up his leg, a soothing motion without smothering him in a hug. Eddie is speechless. A stack of records that rivaled his moms collection. Etta and Eartha, John Lee and T-Bone. There’s a few early Bill Withers and Marvin Gaye.

“This is, uh.” His voice catches and he can’t look up from his new stack of treasures.

“I know you’ve got a lot of these already. Records and digital, but I saw the dates on them and couldn’t help myself.”

“No I’m…this is very-” Eddie clears his throat. He brings a record up to his face to sniff inside the sleeve and a tear escapes finally. “Oh fuck me, they smell the same.”

You’re behind his chair to wrap your arms around his shoulders, cheek resting on his head while he quietly disintegrates. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to make you upset.”

“I’m not upset.” He pats your hands resting on his chest before he stands to put the Muddy Waters record on. It skips and statics for a moment before catching on piano keys. He stares down at the record spinning and listens to a pressing just a few years older than him.

“This might be the most old man thing I’ve ever done.” He tries to crack a joke and thankfully it lands with you. A soft giggle behind him before you slide your arms around again to hook in front of him. You’re warm against his back, grounding. Solid and present while he gets lost in his memories.

“Did I ever tell you about the blues bar my mom worked at?”

“No, that sounds amazing.”

“Yeah,” He wraps his arms around his middle to hold over your own arms. “That’s where my dad met her.”

You make a sound of approval between his shoulder blades and nuzzle into him. “So he had good taste in music at least.”

Eddie’s turn to laugh. “Eh, sometimes.”

“So what was she doing?”

He knows you’re goading him into a better mood, something you’re very good at. You have a remarkable gift to plant new memories next to the old. Roots not full of rot, uncrowded by the same trauma, grow around the old and bring green sprouts back into old hurt. He’s sure you’d say something similar about him but right now he’s misty eyed and finding old memories new again. Rose tinted for sure, but with new color in the margins.

“Well, bartending. She knew the night manager, family friend or something, but she wanted to get into shows free so…”

[gg-neptune]

Hello ☺️ do you take request ? If yes, could you make your eating disorder headcanon into a fic ? Anyway, I like your Severus version and can’t wait to read your next work.

A/n: Hiiii!!! Yes I do take requests. Thank you so much! I love your works too. I love the way you write Severus but also Sinclair as well the way you portray him is so good I just love it. (I love your works as a whole the way you write is so yummy tickles my brain good) Also sorry it took me a few days I have to write things like this in moderation, but I hope you like it. <333333

Also this is related to my experience with having an Ed and my safe foods. I know not everyone can relate to an exact T, but I still hope if you are struggling with anything like this it can help you. If you know someone who is struggling or if you yourself is struggling, please reach out and get some help. You are not defined by a number or what you eat. You are so much more than that,

Warnings: fear of food, eating, ED, kind of panic attack, talks of feeling sick, anything I missed please tell me

It had been a long day of classes. Nothing terribly bad had happened, but it had just been a long day. Your head seemed to pound harder with each step you took. You were trying to make it back to Severus’ chambers. You two had been in a relationship for the better part of a year, and it was coming along great. He was beginning to warm up to the idea of someone being around. He no longer flinched as you brushed past him. He was now accustomed to sitting together on the couch, and on some days you might even get to sit on his lap. You know most things about him by now. He had slowly opened up to you, spilling out his heart for you. You had done the same. However, there was something you had not told him yet.

Finally, you had made it to the dungeons. Quickening your pace, you walk straight to where Severus is, hoping you don’t run into any students. You two had not been caught sneaking into each other's rooms before, but you had both agreed that if it ever did happen, you would say you were dropping off potion ingredients. Or if he was going to your room, he needed to borrow a book, or, in his words, “I’ll just threaten detention for a month with me one on one; they will leave.” Finally, you find your way to his room. No students were around, so you just slipped inside, not bothering to knock in case a student did come.

“Hey Sev I’m here,” you call out. The loud sound of your voice was like a knife into the skull. Your eyes unfocus as you sway back and forth a bit. Quickly,  you lean against a wall, attempting to steady yourself.

Before you appears a mass of black, “Hello.”

Severus lifts his head up a bit so you can actually see his face. His dark eyes look tired as ever as he looks you up and down, taking you in. He stands there for a moment before pulling you off the wall and leading you into his small sitting space. He had only bothered to furnish it when you had come along.

“You look a bit pale,” he stares at you while he says this, scanning over your face as he lightly pushes you down onto the couch. The plush of the cushions enveloped you as you sunk into them, letting your body relax as you held out your arms for him to join you. He does, carefully sitting beside you, wrapping an arm around you as he still stares at you, carefully examining you.

“I don’t feel all that good,” you reply, trying to downplay it.

“Well, not to be mean, but honestly, you look awful. Your pale and almost green,” concern is laced through his voice as he says this. He pulls you closer to him, keeping you firmly placed beside him. “Have you eaten today?”

“Yeah,” you keep your answer short, not sure if you could keep up lying to him.

“Really? Well, what did you eat then?” He’s on to you, and you know it. His voice is monotone as he bares holes into your eyes, staring down at you like he’s reading your mind.

“Well, for breakfast I had some blueberries and yogurt, and then for lunch I had part of a sandwich,” you gaze up at him, hoping he believes you. His eyes are narrowed into slits, and his mouth is pressed into a thin line.

“I didn’t know lying in a relationship was acceptable,” he states plainly, fixing his posture as he pulls you into his lap, cocking a brow at you. “Now one more time. What did you actually eat today? And don’t lie to me this time.” He isn’t mad, but rather just concerned.

Words choke in your throat as you try to come up with something to say. You can’t lie this time, but what do you say to him?

“I already know you didn’t eat anything, so I will rephrase the question. Why have you not eaten anything?” he questioned. This time his tone was more authoritative. You lean forward and rest your head on his shoulder, not wanting to look him in the eye at the moment, or rather, you don’t think you can.

“I just—um, well, I didn’t feel like it,” you reply. This was not entirely a lie. The entire day had gone by, and you had not felt like eating. However, there was more to it than that alone. 

“How about I go get something from the kitchen right now and bring it back? You need to eat,” Severus replies, rubbing your back as you lean on him. His other arm is wrapped loosely around your waist.

“No, it’s ok, I’m not hungry.”

He stops rubbing your back and lifts his arms up to your shoulders. He pushes you back and makes you look at him, “Liar.”

You don’t know if it was being made to look at him so intensely, or him being on to you like this, or not being as close to him as you were, or the weight of your own thoughts, but your eyes begin to well with tears as he says this. He keeps you held by your shoulders as tears fill your eyes, but his expression softens.

“Please tell me. I can fix it if you tell me,” the man's voice is almost begging as he looks at you. He pulls you back to his chest and gently strokes your back again, attempting to offer comfort. Tears fall from your eyes, but luckily his shirt is there to soak them up. “I’ll fix it; just tell me what’s wrong,” he whispers out into your hair. His voice is breaking the sight of you crying into him like this is breaking him. Of course he already knows why, but for once in his life, he is hoping his Legimens skills have led him wrong.

“I need to—I just lose some weight, you know?” You try your best to keep your voice steady as you say this. He almost instantly wraps his arms tightly around you as if he is trying to shield you from your thoughts as soon as you say that. You shove your face in his neck to hide your tears, and you take a deep breath to try and steady yourself, but you find it a tad hard to breathe. Severus’ grip on you has tightened so much.

“Sev- I can’t breathe,” you choke out, still fighting back tears. He loosens his grip but still keeps his arms firmly around you as you say this.

"No, you don't; you weigh perfectly fine. You need food,” his voice is no longer breaking but rather strong and determined now as he stands bringing you along with him. He sets you down back on the couch. “Now. You stay here, here take this,” he grabs a large quilt from one of the choirs in the area and drapes it over you, bundling you in it, “and then when I get back I’m going to have food. And you're going to eat. And you won't gain weight because food doesn't work like that. Am I clear?” His hands are on his hips as he stares down at your teary eyes. His expression is soft, but his voice is showing much concern. He leans down and gently wipes a few stray tears from your eyes. 

"No, no, I can’t,” you cry out. The thought of food is making you feel sick. “I can’t eat; I can't, Severus.” Your voice is weak and trembling.

"Yes, you can, and you will. It won’t be a lot, I promise, but you will eat.” He says this like it is the most simple thing in the world. Like you, eating would be simple for you. However, you knew better. You have been struggling with your relationship with food for a while now. Everything about it seemed to make you sick. You tended to avoid it because of this fact. However, when faced with a situation where you had to, it would manage to find its way up one way or another.

Severus presses a kiss to your head and then your lips before speaking, “I promise it will be ok,” his voice, gentle and soothing, “you need to eat pretty. I’ll be right back, and I will be here with you the entire time, I promise.” With that, he leaves, going to the kitchens leaving you with your thoughts for a few moments.

What would you do when he came back with food? You had not eaten in so long; you were not even sure if what you were feeling was hunger anymore. How are you going to deflect it this time?

Thoughts race through your head a mile a minute. It seemed like no time at all that Severus was back. Immediately he was in front of you again, attempting to soothe you. You had not realized, but your hands had gone to your hair, gripping tightly as if you were trying to pull your own hair out. Your breathing was rapid and shallow as you pressed yourself into the back of the couch, trying to enclose yourself in a space you deemed safe.

“Love, please look at me.” His voice was almost pleading, but he was making a great attempt at keeping it strong and steady for you. Slowly you lifted your eyes up to him, trying to calm down your breathing, but it was as if your hands were not your own, as they kept gripping tighter and tighter no matter how hard you tried to relax them.

His hands lift up to yours and gently cover them in an attempt to get you to relax. “Relax, it’s me. Just me. You and me.”

Slowly your hands relax, and he removes them from your head. “You're ok, come here; you're safe; it’s ok.” He pulls you to his chest, pulling you into his lap. He lifts himself onto the couch, sitting with you curled in his lap, completely safe.

After a while of silence, he was just holding you close. You began to hope he was going to drop the idea of making you eat something, but soon he crushed your hopes. “I brought mainly really light stuff. Nothing heavy like soup.”

He leans forward, and with one hand (the other still wrapped around you), he grabs a container and opens it, and inside is plain, uncooked broccoli.

“I used to eat this all the time when I was younger and I felt bad,” he says happily, taking a piece for himself and eating the top of it, smiling down at you.

“Severus, I'm not eating uncooked broccoli.”

“Why not? I’m here for you, love. I promise throughout it all I will be.

“It has nothing to do with that; it’s the fact it’s plain and uncooked. I’m not eating it,” you huff out. You lean back against his chest as he eats the rest of his broccoli and then reaches forward for the next container he brought.

"Well, fine then. I brought yogurt as well and this granola bar. Any of that sounds good,” he looks down at you. His eyes are filled with nothing but love. No judgment is present at all, only pure unconditional love.

“I guess, I dunno,” you respond, shying away from his eye contact. You hide your face on his shoulder. His arm comes back to you to wrap around you again. He begins to stroke your back again.

“I’ll be here. How about a few bites of the yogurt, hm? Then your stomach will have something on it, at least, ok.” His voice is gentle and calming as he whispers into your ear.

“I don’t want to gain weight,” you whimper out into him. Your arms wrap tightly around him, clinging for support. 

“Love, you won’t gain weight from this. Not fatty weight, at least, ok? A couple of bites of food won’t do that to you. And even if it did, you would be beautiful as ever, you hear me? You need to eat. I can’t stand to see you not, to see my girlfriend wasting away, and I know that might sound dramatic, but if you keep this up, you will. Let’s conquer this together, ok? I know you can, and I will be here with you to help you throughout everything. I am always with you through everything. Always.” He tries hard to get these words out, as he is not good with them. He struggles to say things in the heat of a moment, but he wants desperately to comfort you right now. He wants you to know there is nothing to worry about with him there. He’s going to keep you safe regardless of what you think.

He reaches forward and picks up the tub of yogurt. It’s your favorite flavor. You don’t know if you’ve ever mentioned this to him, and if you did, it was in passing, but regardless, he remembered. He grabs a spoon and opens the container. “Now don’t be frightened by how big the container is; I don’t expect you to eat all of it. Let’s go for at least 5 decent bites, alright?”

You nod in agreement, “I’ll try.”

He dips the spoon into the container and then lifts it to your mouth, offering it to you. For a moment, you stare at it wearily. Before coming up with an idea, “Severus distract me. Tell me a story or something.”

He puts the spoon back into the container and looks at you curiously. “What kind of story?”

“Just be descriptive, something to take my mind off what I am doing.”

"Well, all right,” he picks the spoon back up and begins telling a story of a dragon.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Once there was a dragon. He was dark purple with sharp horns sticking out of almost every inch of his skin. Many dragons in his area with horns were red or orange and not purple, making him very undesirable to the female dragons in his area. By the time he was just a baby, he had already discovered he was undesirable and unworthy of those around him. His odd coloring and horns were a result of his mother and father breeding from different tribes. This was forbidden in his land.

The dragon lived a lonely life. He lived atop a mountain and came down once a day to drink and eat. Each time he came down, he saw the same old other dragons who looked at him with judging and disapproving eyes. He had been met with this type of gaze his entire life. No one else was dark purple and had horns like him.

However, one time, on his way down to drink, he spotted another purple dragon. He at first suspected it was from his mother's tribe (his father having the horns, his mother being purple); however, the closer he got, he realized it too had horns. He knew immediately he had to go see up close.

As not to frighten the other dragon, who was drinking from the river, he went on the opposite side and pretended to lap up some water himself. His eyes stayed on the other purple-horned dragon the entire time, never leaving it. He was used to the judging stares he got, so he always suspected he was rather ugly; however, looking at the dragon before him, he could not help but think it was a beautiful sight.

Seeing it up close, he realized the dragon was a female dragon. She had the same coloring he did and the same horns all over as him.

She looked up, having sensed eyes on her, and was immediately met with his eyes gazing at her. He was almost too scared to move, but he managed to try to muster up the best smile he could.

He was unsure what her reaction would be for a moment, but soon she was flying over to his side of the river to join him.

“Who are your parents?” she questioned. Her voice was strong but still held a hint of curiosity in it.

“Norbert of the West and Falkor of the North.”

She studied him for a moment, almost trying to see if he was lying before her muscles seemed to relax.

They fell into easy conversation after this. They shared many of the same experiences throughout life, making it easy to bond. When it was nightfall, he offered his mountain up to her, and she happily agreed to the sleepover.

It was the first time in both of their lives that they did not feel alone. 

Many months passed. They had flown everywhere together, both having found a new spirit to go and explore the world. After a while, they settled back down atop the mountain since winter was fast approaching. 

“You are welcome to stay with me.”

“I would love nothing more.”

And that was the tale of the two odd dragons. One might believe that they will never find their one, but they will eventually. You are never truly only. Your person may just be a tad lost in finding you. Or, hell, you might be the one lost.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Before you knew it, you had eaten your 5 decent bites and even a few more. Severus realized, but you had now. Transfixed on his story, you had lost count and pushed the thoughts away from your mind as best as you could any time they would come near. He reached the end of the story at last.

“I made that up on the spot completely,” he admitted somewhat sheepishly, “but I think it was good.”

“It did what it was supposed to,” you respond. You lean back over to Severus once he has put away the yogurt and other food items, sending them to the kitchen with a flick of his wand.

He opens his arms for you and leans back against the armrest of the sofa, holding you to his chest once more.

“How do you feel?”

“Ok.”

“Just ok? No bad or good feelings, just ok,” his eyes meet yours, and you can tell he is genuinely concerned. He wants to see you eat, and he wants you to be healthy.

"Yeah, I’m just ok.”

Silence is cast over the two of you. You bask in his warmth, and he basks in yours. He makes a point of keeping his arms tightly wrapped around you, like he is scared you will slip away.

“Promise me something,” he breaks the silence. His baritone voice is almost jarring with how quiet it had been.

“Promise when you're struggling like this, you’ll come to me. I don’t care what I’m doing; I want to make sure you are okay.”

You grip his arm tightly, processing his words. In a perfect world, you would immediately just say that you promised, but you knew how it could be sometimes. Sometimes it wasn’t that easy. But look at you now. You're not feeling as awful as you were. Your headache is beginning to fade a bit, your stomach is not aching like it was, and now you are getting to be held by Severus. So maybe you could promise.

“I will be there for you anytime you need me; I promise you that. I swear to you I will be. I just need you to promise that you will tell me when you need me.”

“I promise to try my best to tell you when I need you,” you respond, knowing full well this was not a lie. You would do your best in the future to try to tell him what you were going through.

“Thank you, beautiful. Get some sleep, ok? I can tell you're exhausted. You did so good, you’ve earned it.”

Humming in response, you press your ear to his chest, wanting to listen to his heartbeat, and close your eyes. Very soon you drift off safe and sound in Severus’ arms. Perfect just the way you are, no matter what you eat, because you are not defined by calories or your weight.

[thus-spoke-lo]

Hi Lo!!!

If you find yourself inclined, Law + honeymoon suite has wormed its way into my brain. You can switch the character up too if you find inspiration with another too! I hope your writers block subsides soon i know its a pain in the ass. Take care of yourself!

Thanks for being patient with me fulfilling this! Honeymoon suite is such a cute prompt, but it's Law, so of course I had to make it dirty. Hope you like it!

CW: NSFW/18+; afab!reader; piv sex WC: 970

“Well this is certainly…”

“…something…”

You and Law finished each other’s thoughts as you stood just inside the hotel room and looked around, your mouths hanging open at the sight before you. The room was undoubtedly the nicest you’d ever been in, though you had little to compare it to. It was certainly more lavish than the groaning metal walls of the Polar Tang that you were used to—that was a vessel built for efficiency, and this was a space that was clearly made for luxury and romance.

“And, ah—how did you say Nami got us this room?” he asked tentatively, running his long fingers up and down your arm, his breath warm against your ear.

“She said she knew a guy,” you muttered as you closed the door behind the two of you and dropped your backpack on the floor. “I didn’t think I should ask too many questions after that.”

It only took a tipsy night of catching up with Nami the last time you saw the Strawhats for her to slowly and surely pull it out of you that you and Law had gotten married—a covert ceremony that only the Heart Pirates knew about, all sworn to secrecy, since the spouse of one of the most wanted pirates in the New World would certainly become a target if anyone else knew. She was stunned when you said you hadn’t yet had a honeymoon—didn’t everyone deserve some high-priced extravagance somewhere private and indulgent? She poured each of you another glass and promised to help you make it right, so long as she could have the pleasure of telling Sanji that you were off the market.

“So, what do we do now…husband?” you teased.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Law said as he flopped back onto the plush mattress. “Sleep sounds pretty nice to me.”

“Sleep?” You grinned as you walked over and climbed on the bed with him, swinging a leg over his thighs to straddle his lap. “We have this whole big, beautiful room to ourselves, and you want to sleep?”

He placed his hands behind his head and slowly moved his hips under you, bucking up against you. “Oh, did you have something else in mind, sweetheart?”

“Well,” you said, biting your lip as you placed your hands on his chest, starting to grind your hips against his, matching his rhythm, “I was thinking we should put this room to good use, you know—make sure we fuck on every single surface?”

“Every one, huh?” He pulled you down towards him, kissing along your jaw and down your neck until little sighs spilled from you like secrets. “You mean like that couch over there?”

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, starting to frantically tug at the buttons of his shirt. “And each of those nice chairs.”

His hands found the hem of your shirt and he quickly pulled it over your head, before cupping your breasts in his large hands. “And of course we’ll have to do it in the shower, right?”

“Of course,” you smirked, your hips rocking faster as you felt the hardness straining against his jeans, "and obviously that nice big tub.”

“Yes, can’t forget that.” He moaned as you leaned closer down and nipped as his ear, ran your tongue down the stubble that had formed along has jaw and neck, kissed his collarbones and let your warm breathe spread across his bare chest. “But maybe we should start with the bed, don’t you think?”

“I think that sounds amazing, Law.” You yelped and laughed as he pushed you off him, onto the plush mattress, and he wasted no time in pulling your shorts and panties down while he unzipped his jeans.

Law wanted you, needed you, had to have you—after so many nights of interruptions, of hasty encounters in his room or messy fucks bent over the desk in his office, he finally had you all to himself with no one to knock on your door, no one to ask something of either of you, no meetings or plans or anything at all to distract you from each other. He fucked you like he missed you even though you were right there underneath him, driving himself into you, burying himself deep while he gripped your hands and held them above your head, and you each felt the smooth warmth of your rings pressing into your skin, reminders that he was yours and you were his, that in this world of uncertainty and danger, you at least had each other for as long as always might be.

Your bodies bucked and arched and collided in perfect rhythm, and murmured words of adoration and desire and forevers hung in the air between the moans and sighs while you moved against each other with abandon. A warm, pulsating heat built and built until you held his hands even tighter and quaked, spasms of pleasure wracking your body, his name leaving your lips again and again. It wasn’t long before the feeling of your pussy walls fluttering around his cock was too much for him to handle any longer, and he plunged over that crest, spilling himself into you as his hips shuddered and his muscles trembled. Air rushed in and out of his lungs as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and smiled, breathlessly whispering “I love you” into your heated skin.

“So where do we try next, sweetheart?” Law asked after a few moments, as he moved to settle next to you, pulling the covers up and over your sweat-slicked bodies, turning on his side to run his tattooed fingers along your face. “Maybe the balcony?”

You couldn’t help but yawn as the soft pillows and plush bedspread started to warm you from the inside out. “Maybe in a little while—I’m starting to think sleep was a pretty good idea after all.”

[vividvivvy]

HER-Chase Atlantic

“Satoru! Come onnnn! You walk so incredibly slow!” The tall white haired man was being drug around multiple different stores by a young girl, maybe 19, that he had met just earlier that day at a small coffee shop. 

“You know you sure do zone out quite a bit Satoru.” She stopped rushing for a minute and looked back at Gojo. “You're such an airhead! It’s so cute!” Her pause was short lived though as she went back to pulling him into another over priced designer store. 

"Woah, shes high fashioned. Took me to the back room in Chanel so we could smash and, everything is Louis V and Louis V her casket”

Gojo was sitting across from her at a table, watching her eat her overpriced mall food. He had food of his own of course, but he hadn’t touched it since they had sat down. To caught up with the sweet thing across from him. 

“Oh Satoruuuu~ If you keep staring a hole through my head your foods gonna get all cold and grosssss~” she spoke playfully as she pointed her fork at him and laughed. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything quite as amazing as the way she looks when she laughs. 

“Yeah yeah, I’m going” He chucked along with her, finally picking up his fork to eat. “About time! I was starting to think you’d gone and fallen in love with me!” She laughed again, and Gojo gave a light snort along with her. 

“Well that would be no good would it?”

“But boy don’t go falling in love. You can’t stay with me. All you’ll ever have is one day with me.”

He watched her run around in the parking lot, it was sprinkling, the light rain slowly soaking her clothes but she didn’t have a care in the world, giggling and spinning in careless circles. 

“Satoru! Come dance with me!” 

His heart and brain stopped for a minute. Dance with her? He doesn’t know if he can handle that one. 

“I don’t know about that one? Dancing in a busy parking lot? Doesn’t sound like the safest bet” He smiled at her as she pouted and whined about how he was boring and that it was perfectly safe.

It wasn’t safe for his fast beating heart though.

“I’m getting feelings that I didn’t before. And all I wanna do is just stay with her. But I know all I have is one say with her”

“Oh wow, the time has really gotten ahead of us hasn’t It?” She nodded to the lit up radio of his expensive black car. His eyes followed down to the clock. “Already almost five o'clock. Damn” Gojo’s voice was followed by a sigh. 

“you ok big guy?” her voice came from the passenger seat, concern laced her tone. 

“All good princess”

"With no perception of time, its almost quarter-to-five”

“So, wanna hang out again sometime? I had a really good time with you today, felt like we spent ages together” He spoke hesitantly as they drove down the empty late night roads, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on her thigh.

Her voice replied just as hesitantly “Ummm…” she paused for a minute, before a sigh escaped her “I don’t think I really can if I’m being totally honest..” 

“Oh.” both of his hands were back on the wheel

“I could live forever in a day with her. I don’t wanna live it if it ain’t with her. I could go up to outer space with her. All I need is one more day with her”

The car was stopped outside of a large, expensive looking, modern style house. Her house.

“Listen Y/n I just, I did have a lot of fun today… I know you don’t wanna see me again but I honestly think…” 

She was staring at him, her eyes told him she knew what was coming and she didn’t want to hear it. 

“Goodnight princess”

“Night Satoru”

“Ooh, she’s always been running from love. ‘Cause daddy didn’t give her enough”

That night Gojo sent a text he never saw himself sending, especially not after just one day with a girl who was just out to spend his money.

“I think I fell in love with you today” 

Read 4:13 am

“All I need is one more day with her”

[hopepetal]

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six pog | Part Seven

@applestruda @stiffyck

Ah, the chaotic dumbasses return!

It had been about a day since their kidnapping, judging by the cracks in the wagon that let a little light seep through. Scar was honestly beginning to feel a little faint from the lack of food and water, but all thoughts of how hungry or thirsty he was fled his mind whenever Grian let out a soft whimper of pain. It hurt. The fact that Scar couldn’t help his friend or even give him a reassuring hug hurt. He had to settle for whispering kind words to Grian, hoping they reached his friend’s fever-addled brain.

They were almost at the village. The mercenary- Marc, Scar had learned his name was- had stopped the wagon some time ago to tell them. Scar had to keep himself from angrily snapping ‘hurry up’ at the man, his worry over Grian’s state and his inability to do anything about it making him wound up. It looked like the beginnings of an infection, and Scar hoped that they had caught it early enough where it wouldn’t become that big of an issue. Marc seemed to have bought his soulbound bluff, and since Scar was clearly too important to lose, that meant Grian would be taken care of. Hopefully.

The wagon stopped, the sudden lack of motion jostling the passengers. Scar closed his eyes in anticipation of the wagon cover being yanked back, light flooding into the previously dark space. When Marc’s face finally came into focus, Scar noticed he was holding a dark green bundle of fabric that he assumed was clothes. “Well howdy there. Long time no see.” Scar’s face and tone was completely deadpan as he spoke, making the mercenary groan and roll his eyes.

Tossing the bundles at Scar, Marc turned away. “Right. Put those cloaks on. We’ll need them for the village.” He started to walk away, pausing when Scar coughed. “What? What could you possibly need now?”

“I hate to break it to you,” Scar began, “but I’m afraid my hands are tied.” After a moment, he cracked a grin. “Literally.”

Marc took a brief moment to reflect on all the life choices he had made that led him to this point, regretting each and every one of them. Slowly, he turned back. “If you even think of pulling some stupid stunt-” He grabbed Scar’s arm in a vice grip, yanking him around so that he could cut through the ropes before holding his sword to Grian’s neck- “your soulmate gets it.”

Scar grit his teeth, exhaling hard to keep himself from getting too angry. He noticed how the ends of his hair had begun to turn white when his anger spiked, a consequence he assumed came from suppressing his vex magic. It was no problem. He just had to make sure he didn’t get too emotional. He could do that! Totally! Carefully, Scar put the cloak on, moving slowly so as to not anger Marc. Once he had done that, he turned back to Marc, watching with narrowed eyes as he roughly cut the ropes tying Grian’s arms behind his back and practically manhandled him into the cloak. 

“Woah now.” Scar was barely able to keep his voice level, to keep the anger from rising in his tone. “Be gentle with him. He’s injured. Remember our deal?”

Marc rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You vexes and your stupid deals.” Pulling Grian out of the wagon, he beckoned Scar out with a jerk of his head. “Put your hood up and get out. We’re walking to the village.”

Scar scrambled out of the back of the wagon, pulling up his hood before reaching for Grian. “Let me carry him. You can’t seriously expect him to walk like that- he’s hardly even conscious.”

Marc held his sword up again, pressing the blade against Grian’s neck. “And how should I trust you not to run off the instant you have him?”

Scar’s shoulders slumped as he looked away. “I don’t know my way around the area. I don’t think I’d make it very far, and even if I did, he’s sick. He needs help, and I can’t give it to him.” He felt too vulnerable at that moment, all of his emotional guards stripped away in the face of the threat. Once again, proving how powerless he actually was. How useless he was. 

Okay, now was not the time to be spiraling. He needed to pull himself together. Emotions could come later, when everything was normal and they weren’t in danger of being killed or worse. Dealing with emotions and stress in a healthy manner? Why, he’d never heard of her. No siree. 

Marc laughed at that, before shoving Grian against Scar. “Fine. Goddamn lovebirds. Come on, then.” Still laughing, he began walking down the path, his sword at his side.

Carefully picking Grian up and holding him so that his wound wouldn’t be jostled as much, Scar followed Marc. Feeling the avian pressed up against him, feverish and trembling, Scar couldn’t help but feel even more guilty. This whole situation was entirely his fault. His fault for injuring Grian. His fault for running away. His fault for attracting the mercenaries, his fault for being powerless against them, his fault for…

Scar nearly tripped over a root that was sticking out of the ground, cursing under his breath as he steadied himself, keeping his grip on Grian firm but gentle. He had fallen a little behind Marc because of this, and though his legs were weak from the prolonged sitting in the wagon he caught up easily. They continued down the path in relative silence, Grian’s soft whimpers occasionally breaking the quiet. 

Soon, the village came into view, and Scar’s whole body relaxed. Relief flooded through him, and Marc shot him an amused glance. “Yeah, yeah. We’re gonna get that bird brain some bandages and medicine, so calm down.”

Scar had to really keep himself from snapping angrily at Marc. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his hair beginning to lighten in color again. How dare he act so friendly? How dare he-!

Deep breaths. In… and out. Just like Grian had done. Scar couldn’t risk his vex magic running wild again. Couldn’t risk the only chance he had at getting Grian the help he needed. He could at least do this one thing right.

Walking through the village, Scar noticed they were getting some strange looks but nothing further than that. He supposed things could’ve been worse. Marc led them to a shop that looked as though it had been built decades ago, but still well-used among the villagers. 

“Stay out of the way, in a corner or something,” Marc instructed, “I’ll be quick. And don’t even think about trying to leave. I’m not above hurting you.”

Scar sighed. “I know. I’m not putting him in danger.” Stepping back, Scar watched as Marc began to browse, picking out arrows, potions, bandages, and other various things Scar couldn’t be bothered to really pay attention to. 

A few minutes later, Grian began mumbling deliriously, pressing against Scar as his words became ever more garbled and frantic. Frowning, Scar did his best to calm his friend, though there wasn’t much he could do other than murmur “it’s okay”, and “I’m here”.

A gentle cough interrupted his panic, and Scar looked up to see a younger woman holding a bag. “Is he alright?” she asked, looking at Grian before glancing back up at Scar. “He shouldn’t be out if he’s sick.”

Scar opened his mouth to answer, but Marc was already walking over, having finished his little shopping trip. “Ah, so sorry to bother you, miss. We’re travelers, you see, and our friend was injured. We were just making a stop to pick up some medicine.” As he spoke, he grabbed Scar’s arm and began pulling him away from the woman. “Thank you, though!” 

As Scar stumbled out after Marc, still holding Grian close, none of them noticed a figure in a red cloak watching them from the shadows. Pulling a small piece of parchment out of her pocket, the woman simply wrote two words. 

Found them.

She carefully folded the parchment into an intricate origami moth, before bringing it up to her lips and giving it a soft kiss. Magic flowed through the paper, bringing the moth to life. “To the knights,” she whispered, and the message took flight on the wind of her breath. She watched it go before turning back and gazing off in the direction Marc had taken Grian and Scar.

For now, she’d stay hidden in the shadows. Until the others arrived, and they could get their friends back.

Until the night came, and under the light of the pearlescent moon, revenge would be served.

[igotanidea]

The fear: Jason Todd x fem!reader part 2

part 1

"I don't understand. Why isn't it working on him?” regardless of Jason’s protest, the second he got Jimmy to safety Dick and Tim took him to the batcave to run some test and assess the damage. Surprisingly, seemingly the toxin did nothing.

“I don’t know” Tim muttered, torn between confusion and curiosity “but it’s disturbing. I believe Crane has been altering the formula and the effects are yet to come.”

“Maybe I’ve just become immune to Scarecrow’s tricks.” Jason was sitting on the nearby chair, arms crossed over his chest, right leg bend and rested on the left, utter annoyance on his face “Will you two just let me the fuck out of here?!” he hissed

“NO!” Dick and Tim said in unison, however, the motives of the answer were slightly different for each of them. While both of them were worried about Jason’s state of mind, Dick didn’t want him to be alone. The oldest Wayne knew exactly what memories could come back due to the fear gas and felt the urge to help Jay through it. On the other side, Tim didn’t want him to suffer if there was something he could do about it. He just needed more time to figure it all out.

“I hate you both. Truly, madly, deeply.” Jason huffed

“Oh, come on, Jaybird, we all know if you wanted to get out you would have already done that. And yet, you’re still here. No one’s keeping you captive.”

“Shut up, Grayson.”

“Nah, I don’t think I will.” Dick smiled

“Don’t you have anything better do to? Anyone else to save?”

“You’re my priority at the moment.” Suddenly the air in the cave got a bit more serious and tense.

“How long do you think this may take?” Jay asked quietly “I got job to do.”

“We’ll cover for you if…..”

“NO! Hell no, I told you to stay away from Crime Alley.”

“If you don’t want to be alone you could have just said so.”

“Shut up, Grayson!”

“Why is it always me who has to witness this?” Tim rolled his eyes, begging whatever bigger entity there was for mercy “Can you two just calm down?”

“NO!” apparently, the sides turned and now it was Dick and Jason yelling in unison at Tim

“I wasn’t really expecting any other answer.”

“I….” Jason exhaled deeply “how long?”

“If my analysis is right ….”

“….. and it’s always right…” Todd mocked

“.. it may take up to 10 hours.”

“Great. That is just freaking great. Anyone up for the board game while we wait?”

***

Now

Tim was right. After 10 hours it all started coming back. Slowly.

At first, it was only the knot in his stomach, origins unknown. Then, his head started spinning and his vision became blurry. Soon, Jay felt surrounded and suffocated by the green fog.

And then it was only worse. Dick and Tim were forced to watch their brother crouch in the corner of the room, his eyes wide in terror, fixed on one point in the space yet blind to everything that was happening as his brain was working against him.

The memories from Ethiopia. The sound of footsteps on the wooden floor. The vicious laugh of a maniac who was attacking a kid. The feeling on crowbar on every part of his body. The smell and metallic taste of blood. He was going to find him again. Joker was going to torture him and kill him again. The story was going to repeat itself. There was literally nowhere to hide. Poor Jason. He hid his face in hands, sobbing quietly, silent begging to just leave him alone.

“I… I don’t want to go back…..”

“Um, should we do something  or…..?”

“What do you suggest we do, Tim? How do we help him without letting him know that we see him in this state? It’s still Jason. Any sign of vulnerability he’s shown may be the cause of another fight. And he’s terrified. I don’t know  about you, but I’d rather avoid it.”

“We can’t just leave him like this.”

“Of course not. But we also cannot help him. There is however one person that can.”

“You surely don’t mean …..”

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

“She won’t like it.” Tim warned

“But she will come. She always answer when needed.” Dick took a few steps forward and squatted next to Jayson. “Jaylad? Hey, I need you to look at me. You’re gonna be fine, all right? I’m calling Y/N”

“What?” for a second Jayson’s sight became a bit more aware “Don’t you dare! I don’t need her here!“

“We both know that is not true.”

“I don’t want her here!”

“Jason….”

“Don’t you dare calling her! I can handle myself. There’s no need to. I don’t want her hurt and he’s coming to get me. I need to keep her safe. I have to keep her safe……” his whole body shook, since it couldn’t process the possibility of the girl getting captured by the Joker and tormented the same way he had been.

“He’s too far gone now.” Tim pointed out “I think we really have to call her for the rescue.”

“Told ya.” Dick was  already dialing the number of his friend “Y/N?”

“Dick? Hey there, boy wonder. It’s been a while.”

“Really? It seems like you never left. We still got your framed picture on the display.”

“Oh, please, after a month? I never thought you to be sentimental, Grayson.”

“Only for you, Y/N….”

“Oh for crying out loud!” Tim hissed and took the phone from his brother “Y/N.”

“Tim? If you’re there than can only mean you have an emergency.”

“I need you to come. We need you to come. Please?”

“Of course. You know you can count on me. Is it Damian or…. Jay?”

“It’s Jason. If you don’t want to….”

“No.” she cut him off instantly, her voice a bit more concerned “What happened in the past stays in the past. I promised you something when I left and I intend to keep that promise. I’m on my way now. See you soon, bats.” The click on the other side indicated that she disconnected.

“Do you think this will work? I mean, given all the history…..”

“The plan’s in motion now. We better hope it works.”

to be continued

part 3

@shadow-pancake9

@lwtmonster91

@your-local-cryptid87

@princessbl0ss0m

[h5llpyre]

↳ 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍’ 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 — nicholas d wolfwood

dildo usage, hes kinda mean and rough w it, bathroom setting, wolfie pretending the dildo is his dick

“goodness, look at you…” wolfwood rasps against your temple. its so warm and damp in the small bathroom, the mirror fogging as you pant in front of it. wolfwood drags his hand over it and clears a space for you to watch yourself in the mirror. he whistles lowly and chuckles.

“who knew you’d fall apart so easily like this?” wolfwood teases as he watches your grip on the bathroom counter tighten. he quite enjoys the way you give in so easily, letting him do whatever he wants with you, letting him get to you this badly.

you can feel your knees weakening, close to buckling under your weight as he speeds up. his hand firmly holding the silicone dildo as he pumps it in and out of you at a rapid pace. its so much and so good, but its not his. its almost embarrassing how much he makes you feel without even taking anything off.

“yeah? how’s my dick feel?” he leans down and presses his mouth to your damp jaw, forearm flexing over and over as he thrusts the toy into your sopping hole.

“g-good…” you gasp as your tears begin to fall down your cheeks from humiliation and embarrassment. he’s mocking you. you can tell from his tone and how he holds eye contact with you through the mirror.

“ah? it’s good, isn’t it?” he coos, knowing you aren’t able to answer with the way he angles the dildo. “you’re so wet and tight ‘round me, yeah…” wolfwood leans in to grunts and pant in your ear, his need to rile you up more. his prickly stubble brushing over your jaw as he continues to ram your insides. he’s practically holding your weight up on the dildo as you give out, legs completely weak and twitching.

“i can feel you squeezin’ down on me, sweetheart,” wolfwood teases as he finds it harder to shove the length inside you. instead, he presses it all the way in and settles with quick, short strokes. he finds himself smiling when you start wailing louder. your shaky hands reaching for anything and everything to hold onto.

“there you go, shh… it’s okay, just let go for me, yeah?” he pulls back and casually brings his cigarette up to his lips, taking a deep drag before slowly blowing it out.

the smell of smoke fills your nostrils and it only heightens your hunger for him. wolfwood is the one doing this to you. the man who bickers with you day and night, the man who complains about picking up after you is the same man who’s taking you apart in a run down hotel bathroom.

“oh yea? you’re feelin’ it now, arncha?” he says in a hoarse voice when he notices the way you begin to pant a little louder. “you wanna cum now, don’t you?”

everything about this is almost too much, he’s too much. swayed by his voice and the scent of smoke, you find yourself nodding eagerly. whimpering and nodding as you squeeze your eyes shut.

“please? where are your manners, sweetheart?” wolfwood slows briefly, the squelching sound quieting momentarily.

“pl- please… i-“

“huh? i can’t hear you,” he retorts mockingly and speeds back up, slamming the toy into you again and again. “ya gonna have to speak up.”

“please-! please- nicholas!” you manage in between whimpers. it feels humiliating to whine such things to wolfwood, but the way he treated you turned your brain to mush. you found yourself going along with whatever he said and whatever he did.

wolfwood wedges his cigarette between his teeth before he adjusts his hold on the dildo’s base. “there you go, knew you had it in ya. show me how you cum now.”

[witch-from-hogwards]

when 77 met 32

Shubman’s POV:

I came to my dream place. Cricket: the love of my life. That should sum up my entire life together. I have been playing cricket for as long as I can remember. My father was my first couch. He taught me everything he knew. First, I played cricket because it made my father happy. But then I started to understand just why it made him so damn happy. Now I breathed cricket and there was nothing else I could be addicted to more than cricket. There was nothing else that could make me happier. (well not until now. But there will be something or rather someone who would be my addiction and my anchor more than cricket is. But that would be future shubman’s problem not mine.)

I entered dharmashala with just one thought in mind. Do or die. Yeah, yeah, sounds cliché I know. But yeah that was exactly what I was feeling. I am here to prove myself, to prove my worth. I was chosen amongst hundreds of other players. And I want to be worthy of being here rather than being a waste of space. I want to climb up the stairs of success before falling down then collecting myself and climb up again. Andddd I fell. Yeah, sounds just like my life. Fuck it. I fell in the middle of the damn ground and now everybody thinks that I am an idiot who can’t even walk properly. Wow I always somehow manage to make a fool out of myself. How amazing.

I was drowning in self misery and hatred when a hand was held towards me. I looked up and there stood a man not much older then myself with a pretty smile on his face, his demeanour friendly enough to befriend a fucking dragon. I took the hand because how could I not. He was standing there all smiley and I was awkwardly lying in the middle of the ground. So, I took his hand and stood on my two feet. He then started to gather my stuff while I was staring at him like he was the one who pushed me. “hi, I am Ishan kishan.” He held his hand out for a handshake but I needed a headshake because why the fuck can I not move of say anything at all. Hell, even an awkward hi would be enough at a moment like this but my dumb brain decided to hang just this moment. And his smile started to turn all awkward because god I just ignored him completely. “shubmann” it was Rishab pant. We met once before and he was a bit too friendly so we clicked on instantly and have been in touch ever since. “oh, hi Ishan, met him already?” it was a question directed towards Ishan. “yeah…..well. kind off yes” oh god was it awkward, this Ishan person looked like nothing can do anything to him and I made even a person like that feel awkward wow, how amazing. Just perfect. “did something happen?” it was rishab. Well yes if you have eyes something did happen. I think I might be getting a heart attack right now because yes, I admit that I am an introvert that talks less but never in my entire existence have I felt this helpless and tongue tied before. And now they were both looking at me and I felt a very overwhelming urge to run away. Amazingly I felt like running far away from here from cricket from the entire world and never show my face to anyone at all. Live a quiet life away from limelight and cricket, even farming sounded like an amazing idea right now. I think my forehead is sweating a bit too much and my heart is going to come out of my chest if I stand here for 5 more minutes and yeah, I will most definitely cry. I think Ishan noticed this, “its okay gill, breath.” And he was thumping my back I think I really was holding my breath because I breathed out and now, I feel much better. And then he started to slowly caress my back as if you would to a nauseous person. That really did help. “tha-thank you” I managed. “Are you okay?” it was rishab this time, he actually looked quite worried. “yeah, I think I am.” And then I turned to Ishan who was now smiling at me with one of the sweetest smiles I have ever witnessed. “Sorry, hi, I am Shubman gill.” “I know, I was waiting for you. See you around.” With that he walked away. And I turned to rishab with a confused look on my face. “Why do you look like that now, idiot literally every senior knows you. You are quite famous you know.” He said with a teasing smile. And I have no idea why in the world would they know me. Well some of my doubts got cleared out in the next few days when I learned that Ishan kishan who was going to play the under 19 world cup this year new everybody on the campus. It did not matter if you are a senior a junior of even a janitor, he knew everybody. No wonder he knew me also. But in the next few days I learned something else too, rishab was right indeed quite a lot of seniors knew me. I still don’t know why though. The under 19 players of this year were decided but we were here to practice. And so, there were team A team B team C and so on. These teams had nothing to do with the under 19 world cup these were all domestic. Juniors were here to practice for the selection of the under 19 world cup, for the next year and the seniors who were not already selected were here for yet another chance. The selected players though were playing to practice for the world cup. I was selected to play for team B. I don’t know what this is called but the captain of my team was one and only Ishan kishan. Iconic isn’t it?

“Hey, you look much better today.” It was Ishan who had walked to me right after the selection of the teams. “hey, yeah I don’t know what happened that day.” “It’s okay, I think it was a minor panic attack. I am not sure why you would panic enough to get a panic attack though. Does it happen often?” “nope it was the first time, I didn’t even know what it was called.” “hello lucky guy Ishan.” It was rishab again. “that’s not fair at all Ishan, you stole shubman I knew him before you,” “well not my fault that shubman is destined to be in my team. Be ready to lose fucker.” I don’t know why but my heart picked up speed at that. “fuck you” rishab cursed and it did not sound genuine at all. Rishab was the captain of Team A. “shubman come join my team instead. This goon is gonna work you stupid.” “well its really not in my hand to change teams, is it?” I said. Well it really was. I mean we could exchange some players if we wanted to but I wanted to stay and it might have shown on my face because both rishab and Ishan shared a looked and a smile bloomed on both of their faces together. A teasing smile on rishab’s face and a grateful smile on ishan’s. I had no idea what either of the smiles meant.