#and he looks like he doesn't know what to do when he reaches with one arm first but then goes in with the other one

[ariestrxsh]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🍷content warning: smut, innocence corruption, praise, mommy kink, thigh riding, oral (m!receiving), glasses kink, loss of virginity, sub!virgin!matt, dom!reader, friends to lovers

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷🍷summary: you and matt are best friends and share everything with one another - except for what you each sound like in bed - that is, until now.

this fic was requested/inspired by this ask 💋

never lose me

"I have a question," you told your best friend Matt over dinner, leaning in closer to him and peeking up at him before you took a big bite of your pasta. You'd invited him out to celebrate a promotion you'd gotten at work, and you also wanted to ask for boy advice.

"What's up?" He asked, tearing off a piece of garlic bread and popping it into his mouth. He pushed up the bridge of his glasses as he made eye contact with you. "When you're having sex with a girl, does it bother you when she's loud?" You giggled, kind of embarrassed to ask.

"Why would that bother me?" Matt asked, his blue eyes darting around while he thought about how to answer your questions without confessing to you that he was a virgin. "I don't know. It's just this new guy I've been casually seeing. He's like, really quiet in bed. Almost makes me feel weird for being as loud as I am," you admitted.

He nodded to let you know he was listening, but behind his glazed over stare, he was thoroughly imagining all the naughty words you'd say and all the ways you'd scream whilst in the throes of ecstasy.

"He doesn't say much. He doesn't moan very much. I can't tell if I'm not satisfying him or if he's just shy," you confided in him, smoothing out your crimson dress that hugged your curves so snugly. "Well, have you tried asking him?" Matt timidly responded, studying the way your pretty red lipstick looked.

"Well, kind of. I mean, when I'm giving him head or stroking it for him, I'll ask, 'Do you like that, baby?'" You said in a seductive tone. Matt found it difficult to look you in the eye as he felt blood rushing to his appendage below his waist at the tone of voice you used. He took his napkin and subtly placed it on his lap to hide his growing erection.

"Mhmm," Matt nodded, halfway reassuring you that he was listening and halfway answering the question you'd just asked. "And he'll say it just like that, 'mhmm,' but even the way you said it sounded more convincing than when he says it. I just feel like he's not into it."

You took a sip of your red wine, your third glass of the night, leaving a lipstick print behind on the glassware. "Well, he's probably just nervous. I can't imagine he wouldn't like it when you.. do that stuff to him," Matt struggled to get out, twisting his ring like he always did when he was thinking about something.

"Are you shy in bed? I get the feeling you want to be loud, but you hold back," you lowered your volume, smirking at him. "That's none of your business!" He widened his eyes and smiled at you while he blushed. "See? You're already getting all shy on me," you laughed, taking another drink.

He nibbled on his lip and fiddled with his ring some more, and you noticed it had been a while since he touched his food. "Matty, are you okay? I didn't mean to get too personal with you or anything. I just get curious about what you're like in bed sometimes," you chuckled, reaching over and brushing your thumb against the back of Matt's hand.

Matt's gaze flickered up at yours and he raised his eyebrows in a surprised expression. "What!? You don't ever think about that kind of thing?" You replied, your cheeks turning pink. "I mean, of course I do," he laughed, hiding his face behind his hands.

"Why don't you satisfy my curiosity then and tell me how you sound?" You playfully flirted with him, slipping off your high heel and running your foot up Matt's pant leg, which turned Matt on even more. "Listen. I would have told you by now if I knew," Matt timidly replied, looking up at you for your reaction. "What do you mean?" You asked, gathering and twisting your noodles with your fork.

"I mean, I've never had sex," Matt said quietly, bracing for your reaction. He knew you weren't the type to tease him about it, but he was just so used to it by now that he was already prepared for it. You accidentally lost your grip on your fork and it fell against your plate with a loud clatter as you peered up at him once more.

"Never?" You asked with a bit of pity resounding in your voice. "Never," he innocently shook his head. "But surely you've done other stuff," you insinuated, picking your fork back up and picking at your food. "Nope," Matt softly answered, picking up his glass of water. "Why not, Matty? There's no way you haven't had any offers," you answered.

You knew Matt never talked about his sex life with you, but you always assumed it was just because he was being a gentleman and respecting the privacy of his sexual partners. It's not like Matt wasn't good-looking, and even though he was a bit dorky, you always found that endearing about him.

"I mean, girls are interested in me, and I can usually tell when they are, but all the girls who have ever been interested are so indirect, and all they do is drop hints like they want me to make the first move. I'm just not really into that. I want a woman who pursues me for once," Matt shrugged, adjusting his glasses again.

"So, you're saving your virginity for a dominatrix?" You raised an eyebrow at him, teasing him and giving him a sly smirk. You watched as Matt got all flustered and started running his fingers through his brown hair. "Well, I wouldn't word it like that. I just want a woman who's in charge and knows what she wants," Matt replied, blushing.

"Yeah? You want her to boss you around a little in bed, baby?" You cooed through your seductive smile. Matt rolled his eyes and let out a nervous giggle, but he neither confirmed nor denied your allegation.

You knew that your friendship with Matt was unconventional. You guys often did things together and talked about topics that most people would consider to be inappropriate for friends to engage in, but neither one of you minded how close you were. After all, you were just friends.

The waitress approached your table, offered you some boxes to take the rest of your food to go, and dropped off the check. Matt started to reach for his wallet, but you stopped him. "No, no, no. I invited you out, baby. I'll pay for your dinner," you grinned at him, reaching for your purse.

"Twisted my arm," Matt jokingly scoffed at you and acted like it was the biggest inconvenience to put his wallet back into his pocket, but he secretly loved that you always insisted on covering his bill. After you'd paid and left a generous tip, you went to get up from your chair.

"You ready, Matt?" You asked, standing up and grabbing your purse and your coat. "Uh, wait. You think we could sit here for a few more minutes?" Matt latched onto your arm, stopping you from leaving the table. There was an urgency in his voice.

"Yeah, of course. Why? What's up?" You tilted your head at him and softly caressed his face. "Please. You're gonna make it worse. Need just a few minutes. That's all," he said, batting your hand away. Your eyes traveled to the napkin placed over his lap, and you picked up on what the problem was.

"Oh, don't worry. We'll wait here until it goes away," you smirked at Matt, biting your lip. He blushed and let out a nervous laugh at how easily turned on he was, but you secretly loved it.

Once Matt's hard on had subsided, the two of you made your way back out into the parking lot, your red heels clicking against the pavement beneath you. You threw your arm around his shoulder, steadying yourself on him and towering over him. He reciprocated your gesture, hooking his arm around your waist.

"So, do you really think about what I sound like in bed?" He teased you, unable to let go of that tidbit of information you'd shared earlier. "Oh, from time to time," you snickered. You pulled your keys out of your bag and went to unlock your car, but Matt reached for them. "Hey, how about I drive? You've had a few drinks."

"Yeah, just a few," you rolled your eyes, holding your keys out of his reach. "Come on. I know that you're careful. But what if someone else causes an accident? Then you'd automatically be at fault because you had three glasses of wine tonight," Matt looked at you with his big, blue eyes.

He knew you were stubborn, but he always knew how to reason with you. "Fine," you smiled at him, handing him your keys and hopping into the passenger seat.

Matt started up your car, tilted the rearview mirror down, and moved the seat forward a bit to adjust to how much shorter he was than you. "It's so weird seeing you in the driver's seat. You're always my passenger princess," you teased him, connecting your phone to bluetooth and throwing on one of your playlists. He playfully side-eyed you as you serenaded him from the passenger seat.

When he pulled up to your house, he lowered the volume on your car speakers. "Hey, you mind if I crash here tonight? I kind of didn't think about the fact that I don't have a ride home unless I take your car," he innocently asked, giving you his puppy dog eyes.

"Of course you can stay here, Matt. You're always welcome to stay the night with me," you ran your thumb over the back of his hand again, a gesture you did often because you knew how much Matt valued physical touch. You stepped out of your car and grabbed your purse and your coat, slinging both over your shoulder. Matt, who still had your keys, unlocked your front door, letting the two of you inside.

You steadied yourself using Matt's shoulder as you stepped out of your heels, one foot at a time, still towering over the boy by a few inches. "You know, Matt. I don't think you should be self-conscious about being a virgin. I think it's really hot," you giggled into his ear, unable to stop thinking about how pure and innocent he was.

"Well, I was never insecure about it until people laughed at me when I told them," Matt responded, looking down and pushing up his glasses. "That's because other people are insecure and convinced that everything is a race. Don't worry about them," you drunkenly responded. "Thanks for saying that," Matt shrugged and gave you a smile.

"Come up to my room with me, Matty," you cooed, running your stiletto nails through his hair. He glanced up at you with a submissive expression and nodded, following you up the stairs. His gaze landed on your legs, and he silently appreciated every curve as you led him up to your bed in a calculated manner.

"I wanna shower before bed. Will you help me with my zipper?" You asked him once the two of you were standing in your master bedroom outside your bathroom. "Sure," Matt replied, feeling the tension in the air as you spun around, peeking over your shoulder.

He took the zipper between his two shaky fingers and slowly pulled it down, revealing your back to him. "Come hang out with me while I shower so I don't get bored?" You invited him in, batting your lashes in his direction. "Yeah," he replied in a soft tone.

You turned the dial on your tub and began running the water while you grabbed your makeup wipes and started washing the lipstick from your mouth. Matt sat on the edge of your bathroom counter, watching you remove the pigmented color from your face.

"Matty, I know you don't know what you sound like during sex, but indulge me for a second. How do you sound when you touch yourself?" You softly asked him, looking into his blue eyes. His cheeks started to turn bring red, and his face grew warm. "Um, I guess I'm not super loud, but I make some noise, and I definitely have to try to stay quiet," Matt disclosed to you.

"Yeah? I bet you whimper," you smirked at Matt. "Why are you thinking about that?" Matt wondered, teasing you and purposely ignoring your accusation. "Just a little curious. That's all," you seductively replied, still buzzing from the wine. "Well, just for the record, I think I would like it if a girl were loud in bed," Matt smirked at you. "Oh, really?" You asked, licking your lips. "Mhmm," he quietly answered you.

"No peeking," you ordered Matt as you started to slip out of your dress. He covered his eyes and shut them until you'd disappeared behind the shower curtain. "You can look now," you said to Matt as you tilted your head back, allowing the hot water to drench your hair.

He let his eyes adjust back to the bathroom lighting, and he watched as the steam in the air began to fill the space in front of him. He took off his glasses, wiping the condensation that was in the air from them before placing them back on his face.

"Thank you for driving me home and for being such good company," you thanked Matt from the other side of the curtain. "That's what friends are for," he responded, but the word friends started to lose its meaning and began to seem more like a strange sound than an actual term the longer it tumbled around in Matt's head.

"So this guy you've been seeing," Matt started off with a twinge of jealousy in his voice. "What about him?" You peeked your head out from behind the curtain with shampoo in your hair. "Do you think you'll end up dating him?" Matt asked, his eyes flickering up at you from his ring he was fidgeting with again.

"I don't know. I don't want to sound superficial, but the fact that he's so quiet during sex and doesn't give me any reassurance that I'm doing a good job is kind of a dealbreaker. It really kills the mood for me," you admitted, removing your detachable shower head and rinsing out your hair with it.

"What kinds of things would you want him to say?" Matt casually wondered out loud. "It's kind of embarrassing," you started to say, scrubbing your body. "You can tell me. I won't laugh," Matt assured you. "Well, I'd want him to moan really loud for me and not hold back," you started to say, letting your imagination take over.

"I'd want him to tell me how good I'm making him feel," you said, your hand dipping between your legs and softly running it along your folds while you pictured it was Matt under your control, saying this all to you.

"I'd want him to say something like, 'just like that mommy' when I'm doing something with my tongue that he really likes," you hissed through your teeth as you spread your lips open with two fingers, letting the warm water from the shower head hit your most sensitive place.

Matt quietly listened, his lips falling slightly open and his eyes subtly widening as he pictured you doing unspeakable things. His erection started to strain against his pants.

"And I'd want him to tell me when I'm about to make him cum," you said right before an obvious whimper escaped your lips as you kept the shower head pointed at your clit. Matt started to giggle. "Hey, you said you wouldn't laugh," you peeked out from behind the shower curtain, giving Matt a pouty face.

"I'm sorry. I'm not laughing because I think it's funny or anything. I just laugh when I'm nervous," Matt replied, sighing and fidgeting with his hair. "Awh. Do I make you nervous, baby?" You cooed, and Matt blushed and nervously chuckled in response.

"Another reason he and I probably won't ever date is that he doesn't really like how close we are," you admitted to Matt. "You and me?" He asked, sounding surprised. "Mhmm," you hummed from the shower. "He knows we're just friends, right?" Matt asked, unfogging his glasses once more.

"Yeah, but he thinks something's going on between us," you replied, shutting off the water after you'd rinse all your bodywash off of you. Matt was caught off-guard by this, but the more he silently mulled over the dynamic the two of you shared, the more he realized how often the two of you toed of the line of being just friends and being more than friends.

"Well, he doesn't have anything to worry about. I'm a virgin," he laughed and shrugged, putting his glasses back on. He watched as you leaned out of the shower to grab your towel, exposing your breast to him while you held eye contact and smirked when you watched his gaze drop to your chest.

"I'm sure you'll lose your virginity before you know it," you responded, wrapping the towel around yourself and stepping out of the shower. "You think so?" Matt asked, chewing on his lip. "I know so. There's no way a cute little submissive thing like you isn't going to draw in the attention of a girl who's bold enough to make a move," you cooed, licking your lips as your eye caught a glimpse of his hard on. "I hope so," he whispered.

You sauntered off into your room, and Matt followed behind like a lost puppy dog. You dropped your towel and started changing in front of him, and in an attempt to be as respectful as possible, he turned his gaze away from you.

"I'm gonna go get set up in the guestroom, and I'll see you in the morning," Matt told you, getting ready to leave the room as you slipped into a pair of underwear and a tank top. "Oh, come on, Matty. Stay. What's the fun of a sleepover if we don't get to hang out all night until we fall asleep in the same bed like we always do?" You asked, pouting at him.

He slowly nodded, sitting on the edge of your bed. "You don't mind if I sleep in just this, do you?" You wondered, presenting your pretty, black lace panties and black camisole. "I don't mind," Matt answered, staring at you in awe.

You dried off your hair and started brushing through it, and after a few more moments of silence, you brought up the original topic of discussion, the same one you and Matt had been dancing around and circling back to all night.

"Could I actually just show you how loud I am?" You shifted your eyes up at Matt as you caught your lip between your teeth. "Show me how loud you are?" He naively wondered. "How loud I can get during sex? I really feel self-conscious about it, and I need your opinion," you batted your lashes again. "Uh, sure. Why not?" Matt said, trying to keep his cool. "This is purely for science," you raised an eyebrow at him. He nodded.

He felt like he was in a dream, watching as you put each of your legs on either side of his knee. You lowered your weight down onto it until your clothed pussy was resting right on his thigh, the increase in pressure creating a wonderful sensation for you. He could feel your heat and the soft thump thump of your throbbing clit through your panties. You leaned in and locked your soft lips onto his.

It wasn't the first kiss you'd shared. You'd kissed each other a handful of times when you were younger, under the guise that you were just practicing, but this was definitely the most passionate one.

His whole body started buzzing as your tongue begged for entrance, swirling around in his mouth. He could taste the red wine on your breath. You let out a loud moan against Matt's lips as you started rocking back and forth on his leg.

He immediately felt the fabric of his jeans strain against his hard cock as he studied the way your lips fell open and your eyes fell shut once you'd pulled back from the kiss. "Oh, Matt," the words escaped your lips loudly as you picked up the pace. He loved hearing you say his name in such an intimate manner and seeing you in such a vulnerable state.

Your hands made their way to Matt's chest, curling your fingers and latching onto the his jacket as you rode his thigh, and you slowly started to push the fabric off over his shoulders. Your involuntary sensual sounds filled the room, and you started grinding on his knee a little harder.

Matt held his breath as you reached for the bulge in his jeans and started palming it through the denim. "Oh," he quietly whimpered at your touch.

He could feel how wet you were getting, rhythmically rolling your hips forward as you humped his thigh. Your moans resounded, reaching their crescendo as you fell apart on Matt's knee. "That's it. Gonna cum," you cried out.

You held him in an embrace as you finished, falling limp against him and nearly screaming in his ear. He wrapped his arms around your waist to steady you, your wet hair tickling his forearms and your chest pressing against his cheek as it rose and fell while you caught your breath. You were both blushing.

"Did you think I was too loud?" You quietly whispered just above his ear. "You were loud, but I liked it a lot," Matt said after a short pause. You let out a laugh. Matt's cock was aching. "Oops. Sorry about the mess," you mumbled as you climbed off his knee, revealing a wet spot you'd left behind on his jeans. "I don't mind," he replied quietly, staring up at you.

Maybe the two of you were too close, and maybe it was inappropriate to grind on your best friend's thigh, but why stop now? His breath hitched in his throat as you descended to a kneeling position in front of him. "Now it's your turn," you seductively relayed, your fingers crawling across his lap, making their way to his zipper.

"My turn? For what?" Matt naively asked, wide-eyed. "To show me how you sound in bed. Please, Matty. I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight unless I know," you pouted at him, undoing the button on his jeans. "Wait. What if this complicates our friendship?" Matt wondered out loud. "Oh, come on, Matty. We're basically already dating. We do everything a couple would do except have sex. Maybe it'll actually make things less complicated," you smirked at him.

Deep down, he knew you might be right. "O-okay," Matt stammered, peering down at the way the teeth of his zipper came undone between your fingers. He went to take off his glasses, but you stopped him. "Matty, please. Keep them on," you requested, and he nodded.

You gave him a lustful and devious expression as you pulled his pants down just enough to access his throbbing dick. He lifted his hips as he looked into your hypnotic eyes. You reveled in the fact that you were going to be the first to make him make those sounds that were about to pour from his mouth. You reached into his boxers and pulled out his cock, mesmerized by the sight.

His tip was the same shade as his parted lips, and it was shiny with pre-cum already. You started to curl your fingers around its thickness and gently stroke it up and down. "Look at that," you gasped while you observed more clear liquid drool out of it, admiring how sensitive it was. Matt softly whimpered as it quivered in your hand.

You ran your palm up his shaft, grazing the head and spreading the fluid around, using it as lubricant while you pumped it back and forth. He let out a soft whine as you stimulated him. "Good boy," you praised him in a low, seductive tone.

He started gently bucking his hips up, driving his sensitive dick further into your hand while he let out a few stifled moans. "Don't hold back, baby," you cooed, picking up speed. "Mmm. It feels so good, mommy," he cried out, sending blood straight to your clit.

"That's it. Let me hear you," you responded, slowly closing the distance between his aggravated tip and your soothing lips, latching onto his most sensitive nerve endings. He gasped at the sensation. It was impossible for him to stay quiet.

Fervent noises filled the room while he watched as you made the head disappear behind your lips, then his shaft, and then you slid all the way down until your nose was pressed up against his lower tummy. "Yes, yes, yes," he whimpered, holding your wet hair out of your face.

You loved how responsive and interactive he was, doing everything you would have wanted a boy to do while giving him head. You bobbed your head up and down a few times, coaxing more pleasant sounds from Matt while he savored the soft, wet, warm feeling of your mouth.

You slid all the way down on his shaft again until the tip was in your throat, this time holding still while you hummed against his dick. "Please. Please keep going," Matt begged, trying to buck hip hips again, but you held them down, keeping him from being able to move. You were driving him crazy.

"Mommy, please move your mouth. I'll do anything," he implored, his voice cracking with desperation. You teased him, moving your head up and down but just slightly and at a painfully slow pace. "Faster, mommy," he begged you.

After a few more minutes of his pleading, you finally gave in, sloppily drooling all over his cock while you moved in a steady, calculated rhythm, stimulating every nerve ending on his rod while he inched closer to the finish line. "Feels so good. Gonna make such a mess for you, mommy," Matt desperately whined.

The words leaving his mouth suddenly had you aware of how empty you were feeling between your legs.

You moved back up his length with your mouth, but this time, when you reached the tip, you slipped it out of your mouth and smirked up at Matt. "Please. No. Why'd you stop?" He wondered, sounding distressed by the way his pleasure came to an end suddenly before he was done.

You stood up. "Be a good boy and wait," you responded lustfully, dropping your panties and pulling off your top. Matt fell silent as he admired your body, his eyes following every curve.

The shape of your body drew in his stare to your most intimate parts, the way your thighs came together in a v shape, practically directing his eyes towards your pussy. His eyes wandered up towards your breasts that he'd only ever seen for seconds at a time when you'd changed in front of him.

"Be a good boy and let mommy cum one more time, and then it'll be your turn. Got it?" You asked, slowly stepping towards him again. "Anything you want, mommy," he obediently nodded.

You climbed on top of him, straddling his lap, taking his dick into your grip and guiding it towards your hole. "Oh my god," Matt gutturally moaned with his eyes rolling back as you slowly descended onto him, taking it inch by inch. He couldn't believe you were taking his virginity.

"Don't you dare cum yet," you smirked at him as you lowered all the way down and started bouncing on his cock. He nodded at you with his glazed over eyes and his jaw hanging open as you picked up speed, your tits bouncing in his face while he admired them.

You started rubbing your clit while you rode Matt, and more urgent whimpers poured from both of your lips. "How's it feel, Matty?" You cooed. "Best feeling ever," he moaned, peering into your eyes. "You're so big. You fill me up so good!" You exclaimed as his dick rutted into your g-spot. He swooned at your compliment, placing both his hands on your waist.

You rocked your hips forward, your pussy gliding up and down his length, and you felt your legs behind to shake. You could feel Matt's dick throbbing in your hole as he whimpered for you and looked up at you with his most desperate expression, which sent you past the point of no return.

Your pussy spasmed around his sensitive cock, and he could feel every contraction as you called out his name loudly over and over. You rubbed your clit in tighter, faster circles. He felt your whole body tighten while you shook and loudly squealed as you finished onto him, leaving behind the milky evidence of how much fun you'd had leaking down his shaft.

"Please," he begged, staring down at the mess you made on his cock and knowing he'd done that to you had him right on the edge of his climax. "Please what, baby?" You bit your lip, still riding him. "Please, mommy. Don't stop. Need a warm place to cum inside," he cried out.

"Of course, baby. Of course you can cum inside," you assured him, cradling his head and pushing your breasts into his face. Your rose-scented bodywash filled his senses. He peered up at you with his pretty blue eyes that were filled with lust and desire. His eyebrows were furrowed together in an expression of sheer pleasure.

Goosebumps arose all over his flesh as an orgasmic rush coursed through his body. He whimpered fervently against your chest, his cock twitching and draining inside of you. You loved watching him come undone underneath you. You continued to bounce up and down on his dick until he started hissing through his teeth about how sensitive it was.

You brought your movements to a stop, tilted Matt's chin up with your hand, and kissed him while he was still inside of you. He looked up at you wide-eyed and panting. "Wow, I never knew sex could be that intense," he innocently shook his head. "I made you feel good, didn't I?" You asked, nibbling on your lip. "So good," he replied, pushing up his glasses.

"That was so hot. I knew you'd be a whimperer."

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[dcxdpdabbles]

Hello 👋 if requests are open do you think we can get another of The Summoned Demon? I've never seen a take on Danny being misunderstood and speaking a different language after a summoning and I'm really excited to see where you wanna take this. If not don't worry about it I have a vivid imagination hahaha

Take care of yourself man, this is also your mandatory water and food break ❤️

Danny runs for what feels like hours but is probably only a few minutes, attempting to find the exit of the caves. This would be easier if he could go ghost, but for some reason, his powers were disrupted when he tried to change into Phantom back in the cell.

He didn't know how, but the weird lights had messed with his core. It was almost like an invisible hook had attached itself to his navel. The thing yanked his power into the floor and walls, causing them to explode.

Thankfully, when the strange writing had vanished, a bit of his strength had returned, allowing him to tear through the stone bars. He couldn't go ghost, but at least some of his powers were accessible.

He had super strength, night vision (which would have been really helpful the day he was kidnapped!), and a few energy beams. It could be a better skill set, but if needs must. If only his Phantom stamina could transfer over.

Right now, he was using Fenton Stamina. There was a reason he was failing P.E. It showed how he was gasping for air, kneeling by one of the stone walls.

"Must...huff...find...exit....huff huff....escape!" Danny pants, attempting to crawl forward. "Must....check with a doctor about possible asthma...leg cramp! leg cramp!"

It wasn't going well.

Danny grips the meat of his calf, curling into a tight ball and silently screaming at it. The pain is annoyingly rippling across his whole body, causing his muscles to tense to the point he can only sit there and wait for it to go away.

All the while, he was mentally swearing up a storm.

After a few minutes, the muscles relax enough for him to feel some relief. Slowly unclenching his hands- afraid that if he got too quickly, the pain would return- Danny stretches out his leg. The ache is a distant echo as he slumps against the stone.

"I'm going to die in here," He whimpers. "I'm going to die from a kidnapping cult that thought it was a great idea to wait after my math test to take me."

While Danny wallows in misery, two glowing figures flout out of a nearby wall. A woman who looks to be wearing an outfit straight from the pilgrim's age and a man who may have once been a gentleman in the early ninety-thousands.

Danny's eyes widen at the blood staining the woman's head and dress. It's evident from the crack that runs along the right side of her skull. The man, meanwhile, looks more normal if it is not for the way one of his legs is twisted sickeningly.

"This one is young, " says the woman, shaking her head in pity. "It looks like he hurt his leg."

"I know how that feels," the man sighs, flouting until he is mere inches from Danny's face. "It doesn't seem he's been down here for long. Maybe there is hope someone will find him before the starvation hits."

"What do you mean starvation!?" Danny yelps. The two glowing people flinch.

The man gapes at Danny. "You can see us!?"

"Yeah? You're ghosts, right? I'm part ghost on my mother's side." Danny jokes, only seeing the woman cross herself before doing a slight hop and pointing at him with clear disgust.

"Witch!" She stretches, dragging out the syllables. He a bit impressed by how she puts her whole chest into that yell. Hell, he's even a little envious with how low she got her voice too.

"Not now, Mary," The man hisses at her. He reaches to touch Danny, but the boy avoids the contact, afraid of being overshadowed. That earns him a smile that seems oddly approving. "It's nice to meet you, lad. My name is Harold McConnell; I was an explorer attempting to map out Gotham's caves when I was separated from my crew. I broke my leg in the dark and starved to death. This is Mary, no last name. She and her family were moving from different American colonies when they passed over Gotham, and their carriage fell when the ground gave way. She died upon impact."

Dang, okay. Harold is oddly forward. Danny knows most ghosts are well aware of the specter's unwritten rules: Never bring up another death or share yours until a deep bond has been made.

A bit flustered Danny placed a hand on his chest, ensuring his fingers were spread so that they know he was a friendly ghost. He was not after their haunt or territory. "I'm Danny Fenton. Yesterday I was kidnapped by a cult from my classroom. They had me in warehouse then in a stone cell in a near by cave I escaped them but ended up gettng lost."

Marry lowered her hand, eyes wide. "A cult brought you down here?"

"Yeah, and I'm afraid they will find me," Danny mutters, looking over his shoulder. He can't see or hear anyone, but that does little to reassure him.

Harold's face tightens. "There are many monsters in this city."

"We can show you the way out," Mary offers, flying closer. Danny does his best not to stare at her gruesome features. It would be vulgar. "Does being half ghost- or a witch- make it possible for us to carry you?"

Danny blinks. "I think so, but I can walk-"

"Nonsense," Harold grunts, reaching out and lifting Danny from the floor. He throws him over his shoulder like he was picking up a flour sack. Danny squeaks. "Goodness, I forgot how it felt to hold something. I miss this."

Danny starts to protest, but Harold merely bounces him with a laugh, twisting around where Mary is flouting. "Onward!"

Mary smiles, floating alongside them. "We can go through the west caves to where my skeleton is. There is an opening that should lead to the center of Gotham's suburbs."

"Good idea, Mary," Harold compliments, flying right behind her at a much faster speed than Danny's running. "Listen, lad, we can't leave the blasted caves, but we can stare through openings. The suburbs are the safest place for you to pop out of."

Considering that his only other option is a mad group of cultists, a kiddy pool of blood, or a full ghost status from being lost in the caves, Danny doesn't mind.

He is saddened that they are anchor ghosts, though he suspected as much from the way neither had noticed his Infinite Realms mannerism. It means they are doomed to only wander the areas of their death, forever trapped in their sudden and abrupt demise.

"Thank you for helping me," He says, staring down at his hands. He can see the ground past him back, aware of the way Harold's muscular arms wrap around him without any warmth but not lacking in kindness. "I wish I could take you with me."

"That's a sweet thought, little one witch, but it's alright." Mary says, "We've come to terms with our fate. We even found love."

Danny peaks at her, noticing how adoring she is regarding the ghost, and she can't help but smile. "You two are together?"

"Aye. Mary comforted me in my final hours." Harold responds in a voice as fond and adoring as Mary's: "She was my reward for how I perished."

How romantic.

"I hope I find love like yours," Danny tells them just as they round a few corners and come to a deep drop. The remains of a carriage and five skeletons rest at the very bottom, making him heartache for the fact she had likely been alone with their bodies for centuries.

Mentally, he makes a pack to come back for the bodies and give them a proper burial—once he has his powers, of course.

"I pray that you do," Mary says, keeping her gaze away from the pit. She points upwards to a whole in the cave's ceiling, a few streaks of light peaking through. "Up there, my love."

Harold obediently flies upwards, twisting Danny so the boy's back is to his chest and his hands are supporting him on his bum. Danny's face turns red. "Sorry, lad, but something is covering the exit. I can not touch it, but you should be able to. Kick it until it breaks. It should only be a few layers of grass."

Danny coughs. "I'll try my best."

He kicks upwards, pressing himself into Harold so he has more leverage for throwing his legs upwards. They make contact with a heavy thump, his super strength giving him an edge.

"Donkey kicks, lad!" Harold shouts, "Both legs, nice and even."

He pulls his legs back again, putting more strength into his second kick. It shakes the ground above him as bits of dirt fall through, and the light streaks grow. Danny's legs go through once, twice, and on the third kick.

Danny cheers as the ground above him collapses, falling into the pit below. It's a reasonable-sized hole, just big enough that he will be able to squeeze through, but thankfully, the rest of the ceiling seems sturdy enough that he won't accidentally cause a sinkhole.

"Good job!" Mary cheers, clapping her hands. Harold lets out a deep and joyish laugh, helping Danny straight up by holding his waist and lifting him up through the hole.

He struggles to keep Danny upright when Mary swoops in, lacing her fingers and supporting Danny's feet. Her added assistance allows the ghosts to push him upwards, away from the darkness and into the light.

Danny rises from the ground with a laugh so cheerful he doesn't think he's ever been this happy to see sunlight, even when it blinds him.

It takes a couple moments to adjust his eyesight, stepping out of the ghosts' hold onto solid ground, but he can smell the sweet grass below his feet. He hears the tender psss of a meat on a girl. The alluring aroma of hotdogs-

Wait a minute.

Danny's eyes finally come into focus, and he stares into the faces of a surprise family just about to sit down for a BBQ. His eyes find the face of a very familiar teenage boy looking increasingly horrified by the second.

"Hey, you're the cult pants guy!" Danny shouts at him, twisting around to look down at Harold and Mary. "One of the cult sacrifices is here! I think he escaped, too!"

"Solitary!" Harold yells back, "You have more strength in numbers!"

"I don't know how he can help me since last time I couldn't understand his language- oh! Er, hello?" Danny looks down to where the teenager is once again, clinging to his feet, babbling in his fast-paced language. He presses his face against Danny's leg, rubbing himself there, and the Halfa is quick to try to push him away. "Dude! Dude! Personal space!"

"My word!" Mary calls up, scandalized. "Danny, will you force this young one into being your bride?"

"What!? No! Wait—" Danny looks back at the scene where Mary is once again making that same disgusted face while Harold is offering him a thumbs up and an eyebrow wiggle. "You can understand him!?"

"Yes, can you not?" Harold responds.

"Not even a single word. Would you mind translating for me?"

"I can let you know what he is saying, but I'm afraid the living won't be able to hear us." Marry cautions, sounding strangely apologetic and relieved in the same tone. "He's attempting to bargain for his family's lives in exchange for being your bride."

"Why would he assume I even want their lives or him!?" Danny yelps, finally untangling himself from the teenager and putting in some much-needed details. He makes a x with his arms, hissing when the other guy makes a move to follow him.

"Hard to say. He's not making a lot of sense- it's just pleas for a bargain.," Harold shouts, speaking louder now that Danny has moved away from the hole's edge. "It is best to put some distance between you and him."

"But what about you?"

"Don't worry about us; we've been here long enough. Escape while you can and be safe!" Mary yells over the cries of the rest of the family, who seem to have finally snapped out of their daze.

Danny looked at the two adults, the one pre-teen and a crying five-year-old, and decided he did not want to stick around for more screaming in a language he could not understand. "Thank you for everything you've done for me, Harold, Mary!"

"You're welcome!"

"It was a pleasure lad!"

Quick as a whip, Danny twists on his heel, racing for the fence and leaping over it. He's suddenly grateful for all the times he would sneak into Tucker's house as he clears over the wood in one smooth tug up and over, hitting the ground running.

He ignores the cries of the other humans behind him as he sprints down the surprisingly lovely suburban street.

___________________________________________________________

Jack Roux's hands shake as the demon disappears from view. He thought Batman had a handle on the cult and was free. But obviously, that wasn't the case.

When the ground first started to thump, he thought their garden had a mole or something, only to have his blood turn to ice when the ground gave way. Rising from the ground was the very demon that he had seen only two days ago.

His mother quickly ran to his side, wrapping Jack in her arms, sobbing uncontrollably. His dad stood in front of him, likely wanting to be a shield between Jack and the demon. His little siblings crowed around crying in fright.

It had come back for him, even though he had assumed it was kind and likely was going to go after the others.

If I had been alone, Jack thinks, thankfully his father's quick thinking and fast-paced prayers had scared the thing away in time, I would have been taken again.

It's a bone-chilling thought.

[auclairedetoru]

“This has been y/n and Satoru, thank you so much for watching, bye!”

The moment they reached the greenroom, y/n's smile drops. God, her cheeks hurt, nobody talks about how hard it is to fake a smile all day, it's like a workout for your face except you gain nothing at the end.

Her co-star walks in behind her, a cocky smile on his face. If she was him she would get tired of herself. How can someone be so egoistic? He loves himself more than his own mother loves him. Every second she's in his presence, she feels herself losing brain cells and getting gray hair, and as much as she loves silver locks on other women, she does not want the cause of it to be Gojo Satoru.

“Great job today, everyone! Y/n you could've been a little more cheerful toda-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

She plops down on the sofa and rests her head against the back of it. They still have one more interview left to do, so she's forced to tolerate that dumbass for a couple more hours, and it's a recorded one so she has to pretend she likes him too.

Why did she choose to become an actress again?

Right, childhood dream, worked hard for it, blah blah blah.

“Whoa! Careful there, tiger! Someone might be filming and you don't want to ruin the season before it even starts.” Gojo smirks, eyes glinting with mischief as he continues to push her buttons.

The people in charge decided to promote the filming of the new season of their show to remind people of it and get them excited, not that anyone was able to forget the last two seasons. According to the statistics, people love a slow burn story, especially when it stretches over multiple seasons. Yes, that does mean y/n has been stuck with Gojo as her co-star for three years now, as known as the longest three years of her life. Everyone around her tells her that time is passing by too fast, but it's been the opposite for her.

She's dreading this season the most. It might be the last, but it means the story will finally reach its long-awaited climax, which means her character and Gojo's will become more than friendly.

She doesn't even want to think about it.

“Leave her alone, Satoru. You still have one interview left.” his manager scolded him making the bright blue eyed man pout like a four year old not getting the candy he wanted.

The fact Gojo and y/n can't stand each other is something known only between them and their close staff, not even the director and producers know that the "chemistry" between them is something they make up on the spot and doesn't come naturally at all. They're surprised no one has figured out they don't like each other in any way, but y/n takes that as a compliment because it means that she's a really good actress who has perfected her craft and is able to fake getting along with a menace like him.

After touch ups, she goes to where the interview is being held, greeting the staff on her way and telling them she's excited to be working with them. Gojo smirks at her from his seat as she makes her way to sit on hers next to him. She mirrored him to keep up with the "we're best friends behind the scenes" thing they somehow built for themselves.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Can't a man admire his friend and co-star?” he teases, milking the hell out of the act they put on for the camera. Y/n wanted to roll her eyes but instead she forces out a laugh and takes her seat.

She ignores the way her heart flutters at his words. No need to focus on that.

A few months into filming...

“Alright, everyone!” the director calls out as he claps his hands, “Cameras rolling, sound is up, let's do this.”

Ah yes, the most important scene of the entire franchise. The first kiss scene. This is what the show has been leading up to, this is the moment everyone has been waiting for, this is the thing y/n has been looking forward to the least, in fact, she has not been looking forward to it at all, she wishes it wouldn't happen.

The scene takes place at her character's apartment, a place the set design team has made so cozy looking she wishes she could curl up and take a nap on the couch. Gojo's character is her coworker and he's coming to check on her because she disappeared from the office party after seeing him flirt with someone. That's when she confesses that she's been pinning over him for years and he confesses back before pulling her into a kiss.

“Okay you two,” the director looks at them, “not to put you in any pressure, but this is the most important scene of the entire show. All your hard work has led up to this moment. Satoru, you're the one leading the kiss, remember that she's very vulnerable and heartbroken, so you need to be gentle and soft, she's the person you love most so you're gonna handle her with the most care. Alright? Here we go!”

The apartment door closes between y/n and Gojo as the clapper loader steps in and holds the slate in front of the camera, “episode 11, scene 45, take 1!” they call out before snapping the clapper shut and stepping back.

The director pauses, glancing around one more time to make sure everyone is ready.

"And... Action!”

Y/n steps into character and hesitantly opens the door. Her expression shifts to shock as she sees Gojo standing across from her, hair and clothes disheveled. “What are you doing here?” her voice is a mix between surprise and hurt, just as the script calls for and just as they rehearsed. Gojo's eyes soften, exactly how he was instructed.

Yes, she can't stand him, but that doesn't mean she won't admit that he's really good at his job. He's not one of the most sought out actors for no reason.

“I was worried about you, you left so abruptly.” he says, letting his eyes dance all over her face only to catch her wet cheeks and red eyes, and no, it isn't makeup and fake tears, she spent half an hour before filming started watching "soldiers reuniting with their dogs" videos to get to that point.

He moves to cup her cheek, but just as scripted, she steps back, her expression flattering. She starts to remind herself of things that make her emotional to start tearing up, “I-I'm fine, you can leave.”

Gojo stares at her a bit longer than he's supposed to, but she blames it on his love to suddenly improve, and not that he's admiring her or anything, not like she wants him to admire her, that would be crazy on her part.

"You don't have to hide from me," he says with the same soft tone.

She tries to hold back the tears to keep up the strong and always optimistic personality her character is known for, and after a moment she allows a couple to flow down her cheeks. Gojo's face morphs into a concerned expression.

“I don't like seeing you with someone else,” she mumbles, her voice breaking with every word that slips out of her lips, “it hurts me, right here,” she taps on her chest with a shaky hand.

Gojo's eyes widen to feign surprise, a perfect mix of confusion and disbelief on his face, playing the oblivious character to perfection, “you... You like me?”

“For the longest time,” she sniffs, her voice thick with emotion as she starts opening up, “I held back, I tried not to make it obvious, but i can't anymore.” She drops an octave to deliver the last line, showing as much vulnerability and pain as possible.

There’s a pause, and everyone on set is on the edge of their seat. They could feel the tension between them, the two playing their roles better than what everyone imagined from reading the script. Gojo goes to take a step closer, stopping half way.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice shaking to show that his character is feeling nervous. The director looks intensely between the scene in front of him and the one on the screen, making sure that the intensity they feel in the room is accurate on camera to what's happening in real life.

It's her turn for her to be surprised, playing unsure and hesitant, not expecting those words to come out of his mouth, “w-what?”, her voice trembles as her eyes search his face like she's trying to find any uncertainties.

“can I kiss you? Please?”

Gojo takes the step forward. His voice is soft and his gaze holds hers, intense yet tender, leaving no doubt that his character has been lounging for this and wanting it for just as long if not longer than her.

Y/n takes a deep breath. This is it, she's about to kiss Gojo Satoru, the person she despises the most. She hopes it won't be awkward, the scene was going smoothly and the last thing she wants is a retake from the top, she also doesn't want to embarrass herself in front of the whole crew and become the topic of their gossip.

After a small pause, just as instructed by the director, she gives Gojo a small nod. Gently, and hesitantly, he cups her cheek as he brings his face closer to her. The nervousness on her face is mostly real and she doesn't know why she's feeling that way, she wants the scene to end already.

The moment their lips touch, something surged within Satoru and his free hand quickly grabs her waist to pull her closer to him. Did she always smell so... Devine? Why are her lips so soft? Is her lip balm candy flavoured? Why does she taste so sweet? Why can't he pull away from her?

The kiss is supposed to be gentle, a tender moment of affection, yet the way his hand was gripping the pajama top she's wearing betrays his character's intentions. But the way his thumb caresses her cheek is the opposite, grazing the warm skin softly like he's handling a little kitten. He knows he’s supposed to pull away now. He wants to. He needs to, for the sake of this scene. But something holds him there and it's making him not care about the script anymore.

It’s only when he feels a gentle squeeze on his arm that he finally pulls back. He looks down at Y/n, her lips slightly swollen from the kiss, her wide eyes bright with a spark that stirs something deep within him, making him want to lean down and kiss her again.

“cut !”

The pair jumped away from each other. They both forgot they were on a set, filming a show, and not in the comfort of their own homes.

“that was just... Wow,” the director shakes his head with a smile, “Satoru you went a little out of what I told you with the kiss, huh?”

“yeah, sorry,” he smirks with fake confidence, acting like his heart isn't beating faster than a racing car, “I just thought the moment needed that intensity, ya know? He's been waiting to kiss her for so long after all.”

“No I agree, you did the right thing. Go ahead and take five, everyone. This is one of those rare times when there's no need to do multiple takes, the first was perfect.”

Y/n lets out a breath she didn't realise she was holding and quickly leaves to go grab a water and get some fresh air. She can't believe what just happened. That was definitely not a normal kiss, it felt too real. What was Gojo thinking!? Why didn't he stick to the script and kept it short? And why did she like it so much? She's not supposed to! She's supposed to hate him and everything he does.

“Y/n? Can we talk in your trailer, please?”

Fuck... Please don't let that be Gojo, please let her ears be mistaken and it's not his voice asking her to talk in private, please-

She turns around, and it's him. He stands there, hands tucked into his pockets, looking a little... Shy? Since when does Gojo Satoru feel anything less than bold and confident? There's an unusual softness to his expression, one she only sees when he's playing his character, but without the little voice in the back of her head reminding her that he's just acting.

Despite not wanting to talk to him, she still nods and follows him to her trailer that wasn't parked far away from where they stood. She lets him in first and closes the door behind her to ensure no one can hear whatever they're about to talk about.

As they stood across from each other, Gojo's eyes dart everywhere except to her face, something he has never done before. His usual bravado is gone and replaced with an unusual hesitance. She watches him with a puzzled look on her face. Why is he acting so out of character? It's as if he's nervous to talk to her.

Eventually though, he opens his mouth.

“I apologize for going out of script during the kiss. I didn't plan it to happen and I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

Now he's apologising? Okay, something is definitely wrong. Gojo has never apologised to her in the three years they've been working together. She is starting to feel nervous herself.

“It's okay, really,” she crosses her arms across her chest, “like you explained to the director, it's what you felt the scene needed, and I respect you as an experienced actor to know what you're doing.”

“That wasn't my reason, though.”

Her eyes nearly bulge out of her skull. Huh?!

“what ?”

He takes a step closer to her, a look on his face she couldn't describe, “that's just a lie I made up on the spot. I felt a pull when our lips touched, I don't know what happened to me and it's driving me mad,” he runs a hand through his hair, a habit his manager told her he does when he's anxious, “I couldn't stop myself, so I just let whatever it is take over, but I still couldn't stop, I tried but I just couldn't pull away and I— I want to kiss you again! I want to kiss you right now!”

“Gojo, calm do-” her words fall on deaf ears.

“No! You don't understand! I want to kiss you, but you hate me! You can't even look at me without being disgusted, and I keep making it worse! I keep showing the worst version of myself around you and it makes you hate me more and-”

“Gojo! Stop!”

The look on his face is breaking her heart. He seems so desperate, struggling to put his feelings into words, but every attempt only makes him more anxious, his words stumbling over each other as he tries to make her understand.

“I don't hate you, Satoru”, his heart flutters at the sound of his first name coming out of her lips. Even in interviews, she always used his last name, this is the first time he hears her call him Satoru, “I hate how you act when we're together behind the scenes. You're always so sweet to everyone but I'm always the one you tease, and sometimes your teasing hurts.”

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. It's just- I've liked you, as a person, before we even started working together, and I treated you how I treated my close friends. I didn't realise I was overstepping boundaries.”

Why is it so easy to forgive him? It must be something to do with the blue I'm his eyes, it holds some sort of spell that makes everyone want to be on his good side.

“It's okay, as long as you own up to your mistakes and don't repeat them, I'm willing to see past it all and start new.”

A huge smile takes over his face, content with her answer. He is so happy, he's been wanting to do this for so long. He knew he wronged her and needed to apologise for his actions, but he never knew how to approach it.

Without warning her, he lifts her up in a hug. A squeal left her lips followed by a melodic laugh as she hears him thank her over and over again. She allows herself to enjoy the warmth of his hug. His fans didn't lie, he is really good at them.

He pulls away enough to look at her face without unwrapping his arms from around her, “Can we start new by allowing me to take you on a date? I promise I'll treat you like the princess you are.”

She feels her cheeks heating up with a blush as she nods, unable to hide the small, shy smile tugging at her lips. Gojo grins wider, his eyes lighting up with an unmistakable spark of excitement and something tender, “can I kiss you again? Please?”

She barely finishes nodding before his lips are on hers. He’s smiling into the kiss, unable to hide the joy bubbling up inside him as he realizes his newfound feelings are reciprocated.

And yeah, she did like him more than she let on. The small crush she had on him before they met definitely didn't disappear like she thought it did, instead it stayed hidden away and came back out when she felt his lips for the first time.

She never expected this nor planned on letting herself fall for The Gojo Satoru Charm™, but with him here, holding her close, and pressing a kiss filled with passion on her lips, she realises maybe, just maybe, she’s been wanting this all along.

The ending looked way better in my daydream lol. Hope y'all liked it still 💕

[devosin]

SUGAR-Y INDULGENCE, them cooking, cooking together with them, food tasting, everything you want in a food related fic <3

gender neutral reader / tooth-rotting fluff / crack taken seriously / entire twst cast / Aggressive flirting? Aggressive Flirting. / Really indulgent / Can be read as both platonic or romantic . . .

01. HEARTSLABYUL

Trey sighs, rubbing his forehead as he fights the will to stare back up at Ace's hands, as he struggles to chop the peppers on the cutting board, . . "Ace . .?", he calls out as softly as he can muster, and he stares up at him, "yeah?" . . "Take off the knife guard"

Ace stares at him dumbfounded, his head tilting slightly as he looks back at him blankly, "What?" he asks, "The plastic cover on the knife, Ace.", he looks at the knife blankly, then attempts to pull off the cover, his mouth opening to a round 'O' shape, when it comes off.

"Sorry, first time using . . err, fancy knifes." he says as he sets the cover aside, moving back to cutting the peppers as slow as humanely possible, careful not to cut his hands, "Well it feels like the first time you've cut anything in general, so I don't know what argument you're trying to make here." Trey spits back, slightly agitated with his slow movements.

Cater and Riddle, setting up equipment, mainly because Trey doesn't trust Riddle in the kitchen yet, . . he also doesn't trust either of them to be alone with the equipment alone, but together, it's different.

"Trey said to boil four cups of water?", Riddle states but it comes out in the form of a question because honestly he doesn't know what he's doing, "Like a coffee mug, right?", Cater asks holding up a small mug he found on the counter, "I think so, I mean what's the difference!" (There is in fact, a massive difference.)

After setting that up, where they may or may not have spilt water all over the counter; Cater runs a rag through the wet counters, cleaning over the leftover residue, "Didn't Trey mention something about, needing some yeast?" he asks.

Riddle thinks for a moment, "I think we'll be fine, baking doesn't need yeast right."

"Yeah you're probably right", replies Cater, as he stretches his arms, "I guess were done then", Riddle nods, "Mhm, wonder why Trey didn't give us more work."

"Yeah it's almost like he doubts our abilities in the kitchen", Cater states casually, "But were so helpful", "Exactly." (The delusional speaking to the delusional.)

Y/n, Deuce, and Trey baking together.

"Ok so the soup is boiling, I think we can try prepping the bread now?", Trey asks, "Sure thing", you reply, while Deuce helps tie your apron from the back.

"Just one problem . ." Deuce speaks up, finally letting go of the strings of your apron, and looking around at the ingredients laid on the counter, ". . . We're out of yeast." . . You pause, "doesn't all baking recipes, require yeast—"

Trey blinks . . "GOD FUCKING DAMN IT."

02. DIASOMNIA

Lilia looks over the recipe book, about one whole time before he deems it useless and throws it to the side (It lands in the trash, because clearly THE Lilia Vanrouge doesn't require such things), "Okay so we need some flour, oil, water—", he continues listing ingredients while Sebek goes out of his way to grab everything he mentions as fast as possible on the table.

"—Salt, sugar, lemon", Sebek reaches into the cabinet, before muttering, "Lilia . . we're out of salt."

Lilia pauses, thinking for a moment, his inner cooking genius coming together in his head, trying to figure out a swift solution, "We can just use baking soda . . I mean they're both white powders, right?!", Sebek pauses, thinking it over, "Yeah sounds perfectly logical."

Malleus, you, and Silver were in charge of making drinks for the picnic you had planned.

"Where's Silver?" you ask Malleus, while he washes the fruits you both bought the day before, "He fell asleep, I didn't think it would be polite to wake him up", you hum in response, bringing out the chopping boards and knifes on the counter.

You both started cutting mindlessly, while chatting away, "So, what are we making anyways?", he asks curiously, "Just a virgin cocktail of sor—ow—fuck!", you drop the knife, "Are you okay?" Malleus asks, ushering to your side.

"I'm fine, it's just a small cut, do you have a band aid?", Malleus nods, "Let me go get it!" (He proceeded to do everything alone until silver woke up and choose to finally help with cutting the rest of the fruit.

The picnic was outside, everyone helped set up the area.

"Lilia . . what's this?", you ask curiously eyeing whatever baked good was on your plate . . (It shouldn't even be called a baked good), "I don't know, I just mixed a few things and threw it in the oven, it's good no?", he asks curiously.

"I can tell", Silver mumbles, as you bump his shoulders slightly, "Ah yes, so good—So good in fact, I might just save it for dinner . . I mean Crowley, and his underpayment—"

"You can take all of it back to Ramshackle", Lilia suggests, "NO!—I mean, I couldn't—really . . it would HURT me." (He delivered a basket of baked horrors to your dorm the next morning.)

03. SAVANACLAW

Ruggie draws out his sigh, a scowl permanently placed on his face, as he stares at your pathetic attempt at cutting meat, "No—not like that . . you're wasting so much good meat", he mumbled the last part, he's trying to be nice, really, but there's only so much patience one can maintain at your mediocre cutting abilities. 

"You're massacring the meat!", he states firmly, as he finally shoves you away from the cutting board, and takes over your job, leaving you no choice but to move aside and let him have his way, "You know, this wouldn't happen if you . . just taught me how to cut the meat . ." you mumble out in protest, your hands laying at your sides. 

"I did", he responds dismissively, "No, you just handed me a knife and told me to cut", "Exactly, it's called immersive learning, something you're clearly not good at." 

You hold up your middle finger, "Fuck you", you bite back, but Ruggie doesn't respond back this time, focusing more so on cutting the expensive cut of meat he got off of Leona's Credit Card.

Leona enters the kitchen while you both were well near finished with kitting the meat.

"Morning", he yawns out, "So close, it's the afternoon", you blurt out, rolling your eyes at his overall casual demeanor, meanwhile you've been dealing with star michelin chef Ruggie's nagging all morning, from your cutting game, to how you can't just eyeball salt levels. 

"Close enough" he shrugs, looking over the counter, "Watcha' making?", he asks blankly, "Minced meat, clearly", Ruggie says in the most deadpanned way possible, pointing to your mess of cut meat, "Oh shit, who massacred the meat?" Leona asks, Ruggie looks at you. 

You cough, and look away, "I tried teaching them", Ruggie says in the most distraught tone he can muster, "Well clearly not well enough", Leona states bluntly, and you let out a small chuckle at Ruggie's expense.  

Jack comes in, awhile after Leona leaves the room, he greets you both and looks at the cutting board, one side of minced and mushed meat, and the other with perfectly diced meat, "Who fuck up the meat?", he asks bluntly, and Ruggie looks at you again, "Seriously, is it that bad!?" 

04. POMEFIORE

"Are you sure I'm doing this right?", you mumble out, as you continue mixing away, "You're doing amazing, trickster!" Rook exclaims, way too fucking energetically for it being 3am in the goddamn morning, your arms were practically falling apart, already aching from the school day, and now you're stuck on mixing duty, of all things that are involved in the glorious process of baking, mixing is the worst part. 

“Ah—I think we need more apples, give me a moment”, Rook walks out of the kitchen, and Epel finally lays back, stretching his arms, before looking at you, a chuckle escapes him at your expression, “You look like shit”, he says blankly, “wow, I didn’t ask”, you respond back, staring at him blankly, as he moves closer to you. 

You guys stare at each other for a brief moment, before he smiles and flicks your forehead, “Cheer up, you look like the goddamn walking dead”. 

You blink, and a smile takes over your features after probably hours, “Fuck you”, you mumble out, under your breath, but he doesn’t take any offense, moving back to his original spot. 

A couple hours later, the pie was in the oven, the lights were off, Epel was on the counter, you sitting down beside the oven, while Rook was busy mixing some sort of cocktail or something, surprisingly he’s good at mixing drinks.

“So anyways, Ace was like, ‘he doesn’t even have a hairline, why does he need a comb for’—”, you speak, moving your hands around as you recount your story, when something enters the room, something green, and your oven alarm goes off, ‘ring, ring, ring’, and the next thing you know, you, Epel were screaming and running behind Rook. 

“Oh, Good morning Roi du Poison”, Rook says in his cheery voice, and you both turn your face from him to the figure on the door, and then Vil flicks on the lights, groaning, “Why are you two still up, and why are you YELLING!”, Vil says, trying to stay as calm as humanly possible, turns out he gets up at the ass crack of dawn, and that his morning mud mask is a putrid green, things to note. 

05. IGNIHYDE

Ortho, sets the flour on the counter, you'd be surprised at both his speed and strength if you didn't know he was a robot, and you're also not in the position to focus on him right now. 

"Do I need to wear this?", Idia asks softly, as you tie the pink apron on him from the bow, making sure the strings come together in a bow, "don't you want to make your brother happy?", you tease softly, a chuckle escaping you as you watch his shoulders slump and he mumbles out a soft, "yeah . . ", the tips of his hair burn pink, he’s embarrassed. 

"Do you need help with yours?", he asks pointing to the white apron on the counter, you'd usually say no, but who are you to refuse when he already seems flustered over asking in the first place, "Yeah." 

Idia fiddles with the straps of the apron, struggling to tie a proper knot—"This isn't too tight, right?", he asks softly, and you nod. He ties a messy knot, that somehow holds together, you don't have to look at him to know he's embarrassed, you smile loosely, walking closer to Ortho, “Shall we start?”. 

06. SCARABIA

Kalim sits on top of the counter, headphones on, dangling his legs (he’s just a girl . . jkjk), as he watches you and Jamil cook. Too bad those headphones were soundproof, because what he thought was a cute interaction was actually World War 3 for you, “You call this a roti?”, Jamil asks you, trying his best to remain calm (he’s failing horribly), “Well it’s technically a roti . . “ you try and reason, the ingredients were the same . . technically. 

“. . .”, he pauses, taking a few deep breaths, trying to control his voice, which wasn’t working, “THAT’S A GODDAMN TRIANGLE”, you stare at Jamil blankly, “The roti has a good personality!” 

Jamil lifts the big pot full of water onto the stove, and sets everything up, probably because he didn’t trust you with many things, except pouring water into the pot, though he eyed you through the entire process, which at that point he could just do it himself, “Now put in the spices”, he says, as he watches bring out the turmeric jar. 

“How much?” you ask, as you take out the measuring spoons from the cabinet, “As much as your heart desires, only stop when your heart tells you to stop.”, he replies in the most serious way possible that you almost believed him. 

“Jamil?” you ask, “Yes?” he replies, straightening his back, “I meant the spices, not my love life, I don’t need advice from you of all people.”

“ . . . “ he pauses, “get the hell out of my kitchen . .” (He’s about to blow, actually), "GET THE HELL OUT OF MY—"

07. OCTAVINELLE

“Are you sure this is a reputable idea?”, you ask Azul as he looks through the ingredients Jade brought in for his new recipe idea, you don’t exactly understand why they asked you for your help, he has a multitude of workers to select from, but who are you to deny a cash offering, that’s just silly, Azul shakes his head, “Jade’s tastes are surely questionable, but he never fails when it comes to the Monstro Lounge.” he responds with a smile, his pen checking off everything in his list. 

“Why is Shrimpy here?”, Floyd asks curiously, leaning into the counter, placing his head in his hands, “To help, I guess . .” You respond, and Floyd shakes head, “No . . you need to eat”, Floyd says bluntly, “What? I ate!”, you snip back at him, confused at the sudden shift in topic, “No yeah, that’s why we asked you to come here, Floyd said you weren’t eating properly.”, Azul shrugs, as if this was just the most normal thing ever. 

And now you're here, on the table, eating something they served you, while Jade keeps you company, because apparently he’s not allowed in the kitchen for a month, after last week’s incident, which honestly you don’t want to know about. 

You take a bite of the pasta, they gave you way too big of a serving if you were being honest, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer, so you gave up trying to shut them down, you look up, and find Jade staring at you, “What?” you ask him curiously. 

“You have something on your face”, he says blankly and you quickly rub your face, trying to get whatever it is off, and he chuckles, “Kidding, you’re really easy to trick”, you frown but continue eating the food in front of you, “Hey . . Do you happen to know why Floyd calls you shrimpy?”, he asks, eyeing you curiously. 

You shake your head, no, "You wanna know why?", he asks casually, almost comfortingly but you try not to misread the situation, you nod, "Why?" 

"Because you're like a shrimp, tiny and weak, on the lower end of the food-chain—", you throw a piece of bread at him, "I'm kidding—Stop wasting the bread!", he says, as he moves away before you can throw more at him, "What's the real reason?", you ask again, "Because you seem weak and sad, I mean with how Crowley treats you and all—", he pauses, “he didn’t explain more than that, but you seemed lonely, like a lot of shrimps.” 

And that's when it hits you, like a truck, these fish breath assholes, care . . a lot . .  more than you give them credit for. 

commissions / discord server / (limited time only) personalized advent calendar

@ devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[kathleenkatmary]

Yes. All of this. And to piggy back off of it, I feel like one of the big ideas the show highlights, particularly in the second season, is the way that trauma and pain can isolate us (especially women), especially when we're made to feel that expressing our pain and seeking help would be an annoyance or a burden to others and/or like our pain is misplaced or wrong because the perspective of everyone else seems to be that what we're experiencing isn't that bad, or isn't even bad at all. And in that isolation not only do we do things that close ourselves of from getting help from others, but it makes closes us off from seeing the pain the people close to us are struggling through.

I feel like the show was pretty explicitly critical of the way our culture treats trauma and the pain that comes from it and the way that "socially acceptable" ways of trying to deal and cope inherently isolate us from being able to both seek/receive help from others and offer help to those who need it.

Alison resorting to plotting to murder Kevin from the beginning of the show really highlights this, IMO, because it's made clear - particularly throughout the first season - that she's been made to feel like there's nowhere else for her to turn. She's surrounded by people who think Kevin is the greatest. Even the other women around her prop up this idea. There's at least one point where Diane talks about how great Kevin is and how lucky Alison is. Since she's known her Patti has been, from Alison's perspective, 'just one of the boys' when it comes to her relationship with Kevin. So when Alison looks around, it seems like she's alone. There's nobody who sees what she's going through, and with the way things are she understandably doubts that anyone would take her seriously.

And even when she and Patti do team up and start to see each other differently, there's still a lot of friction between them that comes almost solely from them continuing to operate like they were when they were alone because even though they are working together, they don't really know how to reach out to each other and ask for an offer emotional support. The culture they exist in doesn't teach them how to do that. And for them I think that's true twice over, because they both clearly grew up in families where that was the case, and the community they live in is clearly one where that kind of thing isn't really common or encouraged. It's not a coincidence that their relationship started getting healthier and more functional the more they both realized that they actually weren't alone in the things that they'd gone through and learned to both accept and offer support.

Patti and Alison really do represent the two different sides of this problem. Alison is self absorbed, she uses people, especially Patti, she often doesn't recognize what other people are going through, and she takes whatever help Patti will give her and then some without offering much in return. Patti, on the other hand, is constantly offering herself, her help, her support to Alison, even when it's detrimental to her life and relationships, even when she's getting very little, if any, help and support in return... but for much of their relationship, she doesn't really ask for it. There are points here and there where she blows up and points out how uneven their relationship is in this regard, but she always lets it go after that.

Alison doesn't know how to offer help and support, and Patti doesn't know how to ask for it. And when you look at their stories, it makes sense why that's the case. Alison has spent so long being so isolated, not really having any friends, the closest relationship she seems to have is with Diane, and even that seems pretty shallow. She's been stuck with this abusive asshole who sucks up all the air in the room, all the money she makes, all the attention and love from everyone in their lives, and through that all she has to watch and listen as people fawn over how great he is. She's been so alone in it for so long, with no relationships of any real depth. She's so self-focused because she's had nobody else but herself for so long, and nobody to see what she's going through. So when someone does see it and offers some kind of help and support, it makes sense that she would just take and take and take. It's like she's been stuck in the desert for so long and she's finally stumbled upon someone who's offering her a bit of water.

And in turn, it makes sense that Patti would continue to just keep giving, to just keep letting Alison take and take and take. She's been taking care of her brother for so long, even when he's an adult and he doesn't really need it, even when she know he's manipulating her so that he doesn't have to take care of himself. She found herself in this position when she was young where she had to take care of her brother, without anyone there to really offer and tangible help or support. She didn't really have any friends or close relationships of her own. Her life revolved around taking care of Neal, so the only 'friendships' she had were the ones she had through him, and while those relationships were shallow and empty they were the only ones she had. And she had them by way of taking care of her brother. She felt like she didn't have anyone to go to for help and support with her pain because not only did she not have anyone close enough to her to feel safe doing that with, but the position she'd been in since she was young made her feel like she was the one who had to take care of other people, not the one who was taken care of.

Alison and Patti were two women who had been traumatized at least in part by these roles they kind of ended up forced into, these roles that are very much consider expected and accepted roles for women in society. And society can be nasty to women who chafe against those roles. Especially when the men who make those roles miserable for them are so beloved by the community. Which just makes the women experiencing those traumas isolate themselves even more, and that results in them not being able to reach out to each other. It's also not helped by just the general way society teaches women to look at and think about each other. Both Patti and Alison express some pretty unflattering and stereotypical assumptions and perceptions about the other, which are based on (1) those cultural ideas about women, (2) the roles the society/culture they lived in forced them into, and (3) the roles they ended up in and the image they projected as a result of their isolation.

That's the tragedy that I think the flashback where they meet at the bar is really hammering home. These two had existed in each other's orbits for a long time, so close but just out of reach because of the way the culture and community they lived in taught them to isolate themselves, to wall themselves up, to shut up and deal with it themselves. If they had just been able to reach out to each other sooner, to both offer and receive help and support from each other, their situations never would have reached the extremes they did. But because they were made to think that they had to go it alone, that there was nobody else who could see what they were going through, that they needed to just keep their mouths shut and not make a fuss, they ended up having to struggle through it all by themselves for so long when they really didn't need to.

I've always felt like one of the biggest messages the show was trying to put out there is that there's no such thing as a 'perfect victim', and that a big reason for that is because our culture's relationship with trauma and emotional pain inherently puts people who have experienced trauma in a position that fosters those 'imperfect' things that can make victims selfish and mean and reckless and self-centered and irrational. No matter how much you'll see people online or in the media talking about self-care and mental health support and getting help, when it comes to actual people experiencing actual trauma and its aftermaths in an actual community, our society and culture is still very much set up in a way that discourages people who have been abused and traumatized isolated and alone, and I think Kevin Can F**k Himself did a really amazing job at really laying bare that reality, exploring just how damaging those norms are, and showing how powerful finding someone who understands and learning how to both seek and offer help can be.

A thing I find really important about the way Kevin Can Fuck Himself goes about its job: Allison is kind of a mess. She’s self-centered, she doesn’t put other people’s needs first, she makes reckless choices that endanger herself and others. And the show says: yes. Right. She’s flawed as fuck. And she still does not deserve any of what’s happening to her. It could be argued that she is, in fact, this flawed as a direct product of her trauma. Her self-absorption, unlike Kevin’s, is actually self-preservation. It puts Patty in danger. It tunes out Diane’s pain. It capitalizes on Sam’s relationship problems. And still, the show says: yes. Right. She’s going about this in fumbling, worrying ways. And she still does not deserve any of what’s happening to her.

Know how we know this? How we really know this, outside of our own objectivity, our own awareness of the abuse she’s enduring even to the soundtrack of laughter?

Because Tammy is the one to find her. Because Tammy is the one holding the cards at the end of the game. Tammy, who does not like Allison. Who sees so clearly the complicated, messy, dangerous person Allison can be. The mistakes she is prone to making in the name of desperation. How imperfect she is at every level. And Tammy, who is the character most explicitly set to call Allison on all of her shit, to drag her before a court of law, to lean on that hot-button of whether or not she’s a “good person” until it breaks—lets her go. Folds the cards up, puts them in her pocket, and leaves.

Because Tammy, like the show, like the thesis statement of abuse is never earned, never deserved, never warranted, understands. This is a world that so often sanitizes women after it’s too late to save them. A world that insists she should have done more to get out. A world that insists you should be kind and moral and perfect, or maybe you got what was coming to you. This is a world that sees fighting back as an equally heinous crime. As punishable, if not more so, than the actions of the instigator.

But this show doesn’t want to play that game. This show doesn’t want to fuck with it at all. Allison doesn’t have to be perfect and moral and above reproach. Allison has blood on her hands, and a DUI neatly ignored, and knowingly has an affair with her married boss. Allison hurts her friends sometimes, and she makes awful decisions out of desperation, and she doesn’t always pay attention to other people’s plotlines. And the show says: yes. Right. She’s making choices you probably should not agree with.

And she still does not deserve any of what is happening to her.

[softfem-dom]

xmen2000!logan with telepath teen!reader headcanons

✰ okay so, think back to Logan on his first days at the School.

✰ he acted like a surly cat that refuses to accept affection. Side-eyeing everything and everyone, not listening to anyone, scoffing and scowling, rolling his eyes, and being a massive dick.

✰ (he was just pissed because he had to stay in a damn school out of all places until those freaks that wore superhero suits deemed it 'safe enough' for him to go back home).

✰ so he just limits himself to walk around the hallways with a scowl and a cigar between his lips, bringing the heavy smoke of cigar with him everywhere he went.

✰ and, oh, cue you turning the corner a little quickly and bumping into him.

✰ Logan just grunts when you bump into him, holding the cigar between his lips with his teeth as his hands reach up to grab your arms and make sure you won't fall.

✰ a beat of silence. you blinking like someone had just flashed you with a flashlight in the face. and then your eyes start to tear up.

✰ and Logan freaks out big time. Confused and panicked as to having just made a random ass student cry.

✰ I'm talking wide eyes and frantically looking around in search of someone's arms to shove you into and away from him.

✰ cue Scott that was just walking by and suddenly gets the wind knocked out of his lungs because Logan pretty much shoved you into his arms.

✰ "fucking do somethin', slim" he said.

✰ spoiler: he turned around and walked away as quickly as he could without giving poor Summers a chance.

✰ and all the while he's mentally cursing himself beacuse making a kid cry is one thing those little shits will cry about anything, but making a teenager cry is another one (given their usually complicated relationship towards tears and vulnerability)

✰ skip to two days later when Jean finally manages to get him alone and it turns out you're a telepath that still doesn't know how to control their powers.

✰ and Logan's like "and?" cue the nasty wolverine bombastic side-eye and quirked eyebrow combo

✰ and and your telepathic abbilities consist of, amongst a few other things, read memories through contact.

✰ and then Logan's like "oh" and Jean is like "yes" and he's like "oh. oh shit"

✰ because he basically, accidentally and unknowingly, flashed a teenager with probably the most gruesome and traumatic war memories known to man.

✰ so now he's just like awkwardly eyeing you out of the corner of his eye anytime he spots you in a room because "damn how much did she see fuck"

✰ and he doesn't know the sheer extent of it until you wake up in your room feeling like you were about to puke your organs out and Logan wakes up just from the stench of your fear that he could smell from a floor away.

✰ it doesn't come as a surprise when he hears a shaky knock on his door and opens it up to the sight of you (paler than a damn ghost) looking like you might faint right there.

✰ "messed up shit, ain'it?" was what Logan groaned, voice raw with sleep, before stepping back and tilting his head as a sign to let you in.

✰ cue the protocol "what did'ya see, bub?" as he rubbed his thumb across your forehead to wipe the cold sweat there.

✰ cue to you looking at him with the most 100-yard-stare eyes he had ever seen and asking. "..where were his legs-?"

✰ and Logan just about chokes on air beacuse what the actual fuck. Staring down at you with his eyebrows up to his hairline.

✰ ellaborating on it, turns out your nightmare had offered you a perfect five stars third-person look into one of his memories in the trenches. The one when he was trying to calm down, sush, a young man crying for his mother on the middle of a gunfire because his legs had gotten blown off. the dude didn't make it.

✰ After that one, Logan simply grimaced "oof, tough one to see, kid" before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to his chest. His chin on top of your head.

✰ "ya wanna stay w'me?" he didn't even look down, didn't need to do it in order to feel the way you immediately nodded your head. "alright, down we go" and pulling you down to the bed with him.

✰ he didn't have the strenght to look you in the eyes though, keeping you under his eyeline and cuddled up to his side.

✰ needless to say this routine repeated itself few times a week.

[teencopandthesourwolf]

read on ao3 HERE

.

“I'm good, Stiles.”

Stiles thinks about the times when, all too often, he himself says I'm good in that particular way, and thinks about how it actually means everything in his life is currently lighting up like a dropped match landing in a trail of gasoline.

In the space of a single heartbeat, he knows he would somehow harness the contents of an entire fucking lake to dampen down that metaphorical trail for Derek, murdering the thought of that lost little boy playing Hide-Go-Seek in Derek's pale eyes.

Only he isn't about to start talking about things being on fire. Not to Derek, not ever.

Instead he says, “I always had this rule, you know, where I’d flat out ignore a problem and wait for it to—and I used to swear to myself that this would actually happen—” His lips drag themselves up one side of his face as he sweeps an arm dramatically through the drizzling rain and the pressing twilight. “—just go away.”

He then allows his arm to fall unceremoniously to his side, and the sound of hand slapping khakis rings out through the sparse and quiet branches of the preserve's stripped bare trees.

“Okay.” Derek says the word with an infinitesimal shake of his head, looking as if he wants Stiles to stop talking.

Thing is, if Derek wanted Stiles to stop talking he would say Stiles, stop talking.

So, Stiles troops on.

“And it kind of worked, a little bit. For a little while, at least. ” He takes a hit of chilly November air. Releases it slowly, enjoying the crazy plume of breath-smoke it creates. “Until I met you,” he shrugs.

Derek blinks and it's a betrayal, giving away his hard-won secrets.

Stiles briefly wonders who else—who left in the world—would know this about the werewolf standing opposite of him. Stiles doesn't need to be a ʼwolf to know this stuff, not when it comes to Derek Hale.

He tries not to look at Derek's lips when Derek licks them before asking, “What are you talking about, Stiles?”

“Magick,” he answers, his feelings and other things shifting underneath the layers of his skin, crackling away like a hundred tiny Roman Candles traversing his bloodstream and manifesting as gooseflesh.

Rolling his hoodie sleeve, he lifts a cold hand between the two of them and allows a miniscule fraction of whatever beats like a heart at the earth's core to flow up through the ground and into his feet and up his legs and down an arm, warm and thrilling, to then spring free out of his right palm.

A small sphere of pure light around the size of a tennis ball now glows about an inch above his hand, kind of like an oversized firefly—and just as alive.

“Cool as fuck, huh?” Stiles mutters, basking in its incandescence, super-proud of himself. Then he gets to his point. “Deaton showed me how to harness my spark, yeah? But I would never have found it in the first place, if you hadn't followed Scott and I into the woods that day.”

Derek blinks again. His jaw ticks like a clock.

“Stiles, that's a little like saying one, two miss a few, ninety-nine, a hundred,” he deadpans, and Stiles can't help but bark out a laugh.

Then he steels himself for one anticipatory moment before daring himself to take a step closer to Derek.

Derek stays put.

“Doesn't make it any less true,” Stiles shrugs.

Derek just stares at him for a moment, before peering down properly at Stiles's little orb, for the first time since Stiles summoned it.

“You've been practising,” he says simply, his eyebrows doing their thing.

He's now staring at Stiles's effort as if he wants to sink his fangs into it, like you would a quarter to test if it's real.

“Is it freaking you out?” Stiles asks.

“No,” he answers flatly. “I think it's cool as fuck,” and he looks up at Stiles like he might want to keep looking.

Stiles wants him to never stop.

“Then here, you can have it,” he says.

He takes another step closer to Derek.

They are toe to toe, now, and still Derek doesn't bolt, nor pounce, nor warn Stiles off.

So, Stiles—really slowly—reaches for Derek's hand.

Derek lets him.

Stiles then transfers the light to Derek's palm, cupping his hand around Derek's to ensure it keeps hovering there. He directs their hands to Derek's chest, stopping right over his heart and flattening them both there, he and Derek watching as Stiles's spark dissipates into Derek's body, leaving behind a few wispy tendrils of light that Stiles guides back into himself with a couple of waves of his free hand.

“Now, whenever you're good, I can be right there being good with you, even if I'm not around,” Stiles says, and then he hopes and hopes when he asks, “Is that okay?”

Derek smiles, and it's the first truly happy-looking smile that Stiles has been privileged enough to witness blooming on that beautiful, beautiful face of his.

“It's better than okay, Stiles,” he says. “It's magick.”

.

unedited, soz! this is for @dontcallpanic (pip knows why) <3

.

...edited version now found HERE on ao3 :)

[senmiyaazx]

WAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH I HAD JUST PLAYED THE NEW UPDATE AND THE BAD ENDING KILLED ME. I WANT TO PUNCH A HOLE THROUGH MY COMPUTER BUT I CAN'T BECAUSE IT'S TOO EXPENSIVE 😭 I'LL NEVER LOOK AT AXES AND CROWE THE SAME EVER AGAIN

sorry for being overdramatic that ending really hurt me and i love crowe 😢

can you write crowe and reader's date after they got together in day 1? let's say Sol didn't find out when crowe and reader kissed so crowe gets to live (not for long tho)

i just wanted a peaceful love life with Jericho Ichabod 😭

CROWE X GN READER

spoilers for the update (bad ending)

a/n: an au where mc remembers all the saves they've done and knowing that they'll never be able to reciprocate crowe's feelings without putting him in danger would make pretty good angst ngl.

cw: slight angst (I'm sorry I couldn't help it). overall very fluffy. i think. reader is lowkey a simp.

bonus fanart at the end!

---------

He's so pretty it hurts. Pretty like the way his braided hair fell gracefully on his shoulders. Pretty like the ethereal glow that kissed his tan skin in the afternoon sun. Pretty, like his sapphire irises that gazed at you with such fondness that it made your heart ache.

Fuck. He's so beautiful and you're sure he's aware of it.

"(Name)? Are you okay?" He asks as if you'll ever be okay when he looks at you like that.

After that night— that one special night that might as well be one of your core memories. It was your first kiss. With Crowe. The guy you thought would never reciprocate your feelings. The man who liked you longer than you did.

Crowe.

And now, it's just you two in your comfort spot. The school garden. After that night he invited you here. For what? A date? Gee, is he trying to kill you or something?

It was already difficult enough to face him after.. well, the kiss. Now he decided to invite you to somewhere private. Just the two of you. Crowe and I.

It's weird thinking like that. It feels weird to put your name beside Crowe, even if you've discreetly written your name next to him with a heart multiple times on your notebook.

And yet you still called yourself a mere 'admirer'. How naive could you get?

Ah, well, it doesn't matter now. You sat next to him on the ground with your heart threatening to burst out of your chest, and you're stiffer than a damn wall.

Don't look at me like that. You think. Don't you dare give me that look. That concerned, caring face he always gave you when you're feeling incredibly warm and your heart is seconds away from going into cardiac arrest. Can you stop being so handsome?

"(Name)," Crowe repeats, bringing you back to reality. "Are you okay?"

You take a deep breath. Maybe you're being too dramatic, acting like a teenage girl with her first crush. Or maybe Crowe just has that effect on you. Can you really blame yourself? He's like a prince for fuck's sake. "Yeah. Don't worry."

His brows furrowed, unconvinced. "Loosen up a little, won't you? You act like we're strangers." His tone takes on a more playful one, hoping to lighten the mood. "We've known each other for a year.. yet you're still so nervous around me." He grinned. His hand reaches out to brush a stray hair away from your face, the warmth from his touch lingering. What a tease.

"Not my fault you're so handsome.." You crossed your arms with a huff. "Seriously. If being pretty was illegal you'd be a criminal." You weren't even aware of what you're saying at this point. You've gotten so comfortable with Crowe that you simply didn't care what you say in front of him.

He blinks, staring at you as you continued to mumble under your breath. Cute. He thinks. You're way too cute sometimes.

He leaned in closer, a teasing grin on his face. "You think I'm that pretty?"

You stop mumbling, turning to face him only to be jumpscared because of how close he was. "What the- Of course I do!" You lean away from him, cheeks warm. "And I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who thinks that way. Aren't you aware of the letters you received on Valentine's day?"

He smiled at this, backing away to give you space. "Of course I was." He paused, studying your figure with a warm gaze. "But you know I only had eyes for you on that day."

Your chest tingled, remembering the chocolate you gifted to him. You didn't expect he'd have a gift of his own for you too. Back then, you always thought he'd forget about you one day.

He never did.

"Corny." Yet you couldn't help the smile that crept to your lips, contrasting your words. He let out a chuckle at that to which you responded with a light punch to his shoulder.

A long silence settled comfortably between you two for a while. Simply basking in each other's presence, taking in the peaceful scenery with him. Despite the silence, it was enough for you. Being with him was enough.

And you couldn't help but voice it out loud. "I'm so glad to be with you."

He's caught off guard by that, but quickly regains his composure as he intertwined your fingers together with the softest smile you've ever seen.

"Me too."

Heavens, you love him. So damn much.

So please let this moment last forever.

---------

bonus cuz i love Crowe so much

not the best art I've done but i really wanted to do this to give myself motivation to write:) and also i wanted an excuse to draw him even though i already have a w.i.p of him lol

[lilbitdepressed27]

Tara Carpenter/Fem!Reader All of Us Are Dead AU

Warnings: death angst blood

WC: 8.9k

Author's Note: no one asked, but I did it anyway. Sorry for any mistakes. Hope you guys enjoy, it's kinda long :)

"Oh come on!"

"Ah ha, I thought you said it was easy?"

"Ugh get off me."

You laughed at your best friend as you got off him and helped him up. You were on the football team along with your best friends and some of your other friends. You were the quarterback and a pretty damn good one for the university. It was your first year playing and you had already made such a great start, you started off as a sub. But when the starting quarterback started getting cocky and just being a jackass during the second game of the season. He was benched. And then you were sent in and since then Frankie had been benched. And he was not happy about it.

"Damn you move fast. You sure you wanna stay as a quarterback cause you'd be great on the defensive line." Chad said as smoothed out his sore bottom.

"It only helps when the quarterback doesn't know what he's doing." You nudged him with a smile on your face. "Now come on. Practice is over and we have to get cleaned up before we're late for class."

*

You and Chad had made your own way to the cafeteria where all your friends were at to get breakfast.

"Hey did you hear about the professors kid. You know the science professor." Chad said fixing his tie on his uniform.

"Huh? Oh yea. Apparently he committed suicide. Poor kid." You have seen the kid in question around. How he mostly kept to him self. Never bothering anyone. But there was always a group of boys who tormented the kid. You and Chad tried to put a stop to it. But it never worked.

"Don't even think that this is your or our fault Y/n. I mean, we did what we could. There's only so much someone can do. At the end of the day the person being bullied has to stand up for themselves. Cause if they don't, they become the easy target." Chad patted your back bringing you into a side hug. He knew how much you cared about people. He knew you since you two were in diapers. You had always had the protective mama bear in you. He and all your friends had always teased you about it.

Both of you arrived in the cafeteria seeing your group of friends sitting at the table in the corner. Your frown turned into a smile as soon you saw the small brunette. Tara Carpenter. You had met Tara when you were in middle school and have been in love ever since.

"Come on. I'm hungry you can ogle at Tara from up close." He teased pushing your towards the line. Seeing as breakfast hour was almost over there was hardly anything good. You would usually grab a fruit cup, apple and a protein bar with some apple juice on the side. "Damn. There's no more pop tarts."

You grabbed the last protein bar before Chad could get it and laughed when he was stuck with a banana.

"Whatever come on."

Tara looked up from her work, seeing you walking towards her. Her face brighten, her hand reaching for you as you grew closer, your much larger hand covered hers. It was a feeling Tara loved. How warm your hands were. They were always so warm, even in the winter.

"Hey. I got you your fruit cup and an apple." She handed you the food as you sat down next to her. Her heart racing as you directed a smile towards her. She knew that smile. The smile reserved only for her. Her face warming when you leaned into her and lightly kissed her cheek.

"Thanks Tar."

"You're welcome." She leaned into your side, embracing your warmth.

"Hey did anyone hear that the girl from home room went missing." Amber spoke from across the table.

"Which one Amber. There's like-"

Tara tuned out the conversation. Her focus was on you. How you silently ate your food but yet still paid attention to everyone else. How your hand stayed in hers. Your thumb softly creasing the back of her hand. She's never felt this deep about someone. The deep affection for you was something that scared her. It terrified her so much but yet she loved the feeling.

She loved you.

*

You had been trying to focus for a while now. But three classes already had you feeling so sleepy. It was just one more class before the lunch hour began. In this class you didn't share it with any of your friends. So you were alone.

You heard rumors about the girl that went missing was found in the science professors lab. You heard that he had been arrested and was taken away by police. You didn't take his class but Tara and most of your friends did. You would have never expected it from a teacher like him.

Right when the bell rang you were out of your seat and headed to the cafeteria.

"Run!!"

Students ran passed you, leaving you confused on what they were running from.

"Y/n run!!" Wes grabbed your hand as he ran passed you. Your eyes widen in shook when you saw what he was running from. Zombies?! You ran after him only to be tackled by one of the zombies.

"Y/N!"

The zombie was one of your teammates, was on top of you. Trying to bite you. You held him by his neck doing your best to keep him away from you but his arms swung wildly hitting you in the face. You tried to use your legs but it was like he was dead weight on you. His teeth grew closer to your neck making you scream in desperation.

Then the weight was off you, you gasped in relief as Wes helped you up. "Come on!"

The two of you ran dodging students and zombies.

"Wait where are the others?!" You yelled. He looked back at you with a remorseful look. "Wesley where are the others."

"I don't know. I think they were in the cafeteria. I don't know. I didn't get a chance to get there before they attacked. Come on."

You had no choice but to follow him. Passing students that were being attacked. Rushing up the stairs only to get hit with what felt like a ton of bricks. Falling hard to the floor your vision going a little blurry. You felt yourself being picked up and lead into a classroom. The door shut behind you as you leaned on the wall. You touched you head and felt something wet. Pulling your hand down and seeing blood on your finger tips.

You barely had a chance to gather yourself when a shorter body slammed into you.

"Thank god you're okay. Everything happened so quickly. I tried to go find you but Chad wouldn't let me go. I was so scared something happened to you." Tara mumbled into your neck as her arms tighten around your waist. The moment that chaos started she along with her friend had been in cafeteria. If it weren't for Amber, she probably would have died when she had frozen in fear when she fell.

"It's okay Tara I'm fine. Chad did the right thing. It's too crazy out there. Let me see you." Cupping her cheeks in your palms you pulled her away enough where you could look down at her and make sure she was okay. You caught the moment she saw the cut on your temple. Her eyes widen as she reached up her hand taking a hold of your chin as she turned your head to the side.

"Come on. I think there's a first aid kit in the professors desk."

Sitting down on the professors chair she got to work on cleaning your cut up and covering it with a bandaid. As she was cleaning you up you saw a small bandage around her wrist that wasn't there in the morning. You took a hold of her hand to take a better look.

"What happened to your wrist?" You looked up at her, she had stood between your legs as she cleaned you up.

"The girl that went missing was in professor Smiths class. She had been attacked by him and had escaped this morning. And wondered in to professor Prescott's class. She seemed confused and erratic when we took her to the nurses office. She attacked the nurse and scratched me. But I'm okay." She reassured you hoping to ease your worries.

"Okay." You nodded trying to calm your racing heart. You could still hear the screaming coming from outside the classroom. You looked around the room seeing most of your friends. Chad, Mindy, Amber, Anika, Wes, Ethan, Quinn, and Liv. Also two other students, Jason and Greg.

"Sam?" You knew she had gone away with her archery team. They had a competition today but she had said that they'd be back by lunch. Her boyfriend Danny was with her, he was on the team as well.

"No. I haven't seen her. But she's Sam. I'm sure she's fine. Right? She's got to be." She started breathing heavily and you had to calm her down before she had an asthma attack. You always had an inhaler with you.

"Hey, Tara look at me. I'm sure she's okay. I mean your sister is a badass. Don't tell her I said that though, her ego is big enough." The shorter brunette let out a small laugh knowing it was very true. "She's okay. I promise you that."

"So what are we going to do? I mean we all saw the same thing right? Those were zombies. I mean they remind me of the zombies from the movie Train to Busan." Mindy said from standing next to the window that looked out to the track and field. Her girlfriend Anika was standing right next to her. Still shaking in fear.

"Zombies? Seriously Mindy. You watch way too many movies." Quinn moved towards the window to see the caos that was happening outside.

"She's not wrong. They act like zombies. I saw Richie get bit and he turned in like a few seconds." Wes said from his spot next to the door. He had pushed a small cabinet up against the door. Hoping to make sure that no one would get in.

"So what do we do. Wait for help to arrive? We don't know how long that'll take." Ethan stood up from sitting next to Wes. He walked up to you, giving you a once over. "Glad you're okay." He patted your shoulder. You offered him a small smile and nod. Ethan had also been a close friend of yours. Him, Chad, Wes and yourself were on the team and great friends.

"We could wait it out. It won't be long till the cops show up. I mean it's basically a riot on school grounds. Anyone have their phones? I left mine in my bag in the cafeteria." Anika asked as she searched for her phone only to come up empty handed.

"I dropped mine when I got tackled. Tar do you have your phone." You turned your attention to short brunette still standing between your legs. She dug in her pocket and took it out. You looked down at her phone to see a picture of you. You were in your football uniform except the helmet. You were smiling big in the picture holding a bouquet of flowers and a small teddy bear close to your chest. You remember that day clearly. You had won your first game that you played as the starting quarterback. Tara had bought the gifts knowing very well you were going to win. She had captured your cheesy smile that she loved so much and made it her locksceen.

You smiled up at her, she tried to hide her blush but smiled regardless. She dialed 911, bringing the phone up to her ear. You watched as she spoke to the dispatcher. The officer seemed not to believe her but never the less said they'd send officers to the school.

"I'm going to call Sam. Hopefully she answers." It was quiet, well as quiet as a zombie filled university could be. You stood up from the chair and let Tara sit in it. "Nothing. She's not answering." She bit her bottom lip, a nervous habit she had. Her hands playing with her phone. You took the phone from her hands putting it on the desk, then taking her hands in yours. Bringing her down on your lap.

"Hey, she'll be okay. She's with Danny and she's strong. She'll be alright." You spoke softly to her, gently squeezing her hands. "Look at me." When her eyes met yours, you smiled softly she returned the small smile. Eyes still filled with worry. "She'll be alright. I need you to focus on yourself right now. Okay? Take a deep breath for me baby." Even though you had her spare inhaler with you. You didn't want her to over work herself.

She followed your directions with no complaints. Once she had her breathing in check she looked down at you and leaned down. Softly kissing your lips. She didn't know what she'd do if she lost you.

*

"Well how crazy was it in the cafeteria?" You asked Chad. Tara, Liv Mindy, Anika, Amber and Quinn were sitting at the corner furthest away from the door. The door was blocked but to be on the safer side. Chad, Wes, Ethan and yourself stood by the window of the second floor building.

"Got too crazy way too fast. How the hell did this even happen? I mean, the girl that went missing was-" The group of teenagers were stoped at the sudden noise of the door being pushed open. The small cabinet moved from the force of the door opening. The girls scrambled to their feet at the sight of the P.E teacher who was also your coach breathing heavily as he closed the door. He looked frantically around the room eyes landing at the group of kids.

"Coach were you bit?" You asked as you took a step forward a hand shooting out and grabbing the back of your shirt. Wes stood behind you, holding your jacket, once he realized that you wouldn't get closer to the coach he let your jacket go.

"No I wasn't bit. Let's let's block the door. We need to secure it. Make sure they don't get in. Come on."

Everyone moved to block the door, as you moved to do what the coach said when a hand held your wrist. You turned back to see Tara. "What's wrong?" Asking as you turned to be directly in front of her.

"Look at his arm. There."

You turned back to look at the teacher. The sleeve of his jacket was rolled up. But there, you saw blood on his wrist. The teeth marks. You knew he'd be turning at any moment know.

"Coach your arm-What are you on about Y/ln come and help. Or I'll bench you and let Frankie back in." He spoke angrily but his eyes filled with fear and denial.

"Y/n what are you doing he said he wasn't bit." Jason said as he stopped his movements from barricading the door.

"He has a bite mark on his arm." You argued with your coach. You felt bad but he was putting your friends, Tara in danger. You knew it wouldn't be long once he turned. "You need to leave."

He scoffed, "You want me to go out there? After all I did to get here."

"Get out, right now. You were bitten and it's putting all of us in danger." Tara fired back, your arm reaching for her and pushing her behind you.

"Listen here you fucking-" He gasped at the feeling of blood coming out of his nose. The coach looked at you as he fell to the ground, his body convulsing.

You stepped back pulling Tara with you. You could only watch as your coach turned into a zombie.

"Get him out of here!" Greg yelped, the zombie looked his way and launched towards him.

The second they were all frozen in fear, it was all it took for the zombie to go for the bite. You reacted first, running forward.

"Y/n no!"

You pulled the coach off Greg, throwing him to side. You picked up a book and hit him with it, making him fall back. "We need to get outta here!"

"Come on!" Chad ran towards the door pulling the desks and cabinets out of the way with the help of Ethan and Wes. The girls followed close behind them. Tara grabbing you by the hand, pulling you behind her as you and your friends ran down the hall. Leaving the coach and Greg behind.

"Where are we going?!" Amber yelled as she swung the handle of a paper guillotine she broke off.

"The science lab!" Chad yelled back. He had a leg of a wooden chair swinging the stick pushing the zombie off Ethan.

You had been thrusted a chair leg by Chad as you were pulled down the hall. Amber and Mindy had pulled Tara from you as you helped the boys push back the zombies from getting to them. They all ran upstairs trying to get to the science lab.

"Y/n hurry!" You heard Tara yell from behind you. You looked behind you to see her, her arm being held by Amber.

"Go! Open the door for the science lab! I'll be right behind you!" You grunted at the force from the pushing. You spared a glance back at Tara, she was being pulled by Amber and Mindy. You swung the chair leg at one of the zombies. Feeling your heart beating in your ears when you realized the way to your friends was being blocked by zombies. There was no way for you to get through them.

Having no choice but to hide in another room.

*

The door was slammed shut. All the guys moving to push something in order to make sure the zombies didn't push through. The brunette looking frantically around for you. But you were hard to miss. In any crowded room she'd always find you. Like her eyes were magnets, always connecting with yours.

"Where's Y/n?"

Wes snapped his head up. You were right behind him. He heard you shout that you were right behind them.

Tara didn't think, didn't wait for anyone to say anything before she was at the door trying to move the stuff blocking the door. She needed to get to you. Make sure you were okay.

"Tara, Tara you can't go out there." Amber was the one to stop her. Feeling the shorter girls shoulder shaking.

"Please Amber, I have to make sure she's okay. She has to be okay. I can't lose her." Tara let the sob out, you were right behind her. Telling her that you were right behind her. She knew she should have stayed with you. Feeling like the walls were closing in on her as she cried into Amber's shoulder.

Amber swallowed the lump in her throat. Seeing what her best friend and you had was something she could only wish for. Seeing the relationship blossom from such a young age was something everyone wanted. That true love. Knowing that if something were to happen to either of you, the other would be lost with out them.

"Come on Tara. Breath. Y/n is one of the strongest and most athletic person I know. Not to mention she's too stubborn when it comes to getting to you." Amber spoke gently to the shorter girl, leading Tara away from the door towards the window.

Everyone else looked back out the small window on the door, afraid that they'd see their friend as one of the zombies

*

You had ran into the art room, running straight to the desk with the little seconds you had before the zombies came running in. Staying at quiet as you could as you heard the footsteps and groaning coming closer. You needed to find a way out of the class and back to Tara.

*

"She'll be okay, you have to believe that she will." Amber looked out the window, looking at what was once a field filled with joy now filled with groans of students that she once knew. She felt Tara's warm hand taking hers. Tara had been her friend for the longest time. She felt tears build up in her eyes as she failed to look at Tara. She knew what was going to happen. She could feel it inside her. And she was scared.

"Amber, your hand, it's co-" Tara felt the dread wash over her like a cold bucket of water being poured over her head at what it meant. Amber was cold to the touch, her best friend always had cold hands. It was nothing new. But this type of coldness was new. Her eyes connecting to the eyes that were once brown. Were now red.

"Amber?" Quinn stood up, looking at the shorter girl. She stepped closer, her eyes also filling with tears. She couldn't lose another friend. Especially not Amber. Not when she hasn't told her how she felt. She looked at Tara who was yet to look away from Amber. When Amber turned around she felt her heart shatter at the sight of the nose bleed. She knew what that meant.

"It's okay Quinn. It's okay." Amber looked at the taller girl. She hated herself for not telling the girl how she felt. For waiting too long. From the moment she first saw Quinn. She shouldn't have let the chance go. But now. Now it was too late. She didn't want to do this to Quinn but she knew she had no control of what was going to happen next. Her gaze turned to the Quinn's brother.

Ethan stood behind Quinn, ready to protect Quinn and Tara when it came down to it. He knew it was only a matter of seconds before the Amber they knew was gone. He looked into Amber's eyes. The unspoken words in her eyes. He nodded. He knew what that look meant. He saw the small glimpse of relief in her eyes and her shoulders before the look was gone replaced with pain.

"I love you Quinn."

Quinn let out a sob, she was losing Amber. The smart witted girl that had stolen her heart with snarky remarks. Moving forward to get closer to Amber. Only to be held back by her brother.

"Get her the fuck outta here. Do something!"

Everyone ignored Jason as they watched Amber fall to the floor. The cocky, witty, Amber was gone. Replaced by a raging, flesh eating monster.

*

You peaked from the corner of the desk. There was a few zombies in the class. All gathered around the entrance of the class. There was no way you were getting out through that. You weren't sure what to do. Or how to do it. You looked around hoping to find a way back to Tara and your friends. The only way out would be through the windows, you had no other choice.

You were quick to move, throwing what you can to keep, the zombies away from you. You tried not to look down, the science lab was a level up. You weren't so sure if you'd be able to climb up.

Your foot slipping on the ledge making your heart jump to your throat "Oh shit."

You shuffled on the side, trying to figure out, how you could climb up. When you saw Wesley on what you assumed to be a water hose. You watched as he struggled to kick off the zombie off his foot. "Holy shit Wes, hold on I'm coming to you."

"Y/n? You're alive!" He smiled momentarily forgetting the situation he was in. The happiness he felt was quick to wash away at the pull of his leg. He couldn't get a good grip on the hose.

"I'm going to you. Just hold on." You weren't sure how you'd get to Wes.

"Y/n, look up."

You looked up, eyes widening at seeing a bloody face of a zombie, this time without a moment of hesitation. You leaped towards Wesley. Your heart jumping towards your throat as you free fell for a second before your arms wrapped themselves around Wes.

You were quick to kick off the zombie that held on to Wesley's foot.

"Ugh thanks. Now get off me, go down to the broadcasting room."

"What? I thought you liked my hugs." You smiled as you moved further down on the hose. Carefully going through the window.

"Y/n? Holy shit dude I thought you were dead." Ethan was quick to pull you in a tight hug. You hugged him back. He was quick to pull away, right when a familiar sob rang through the room. You looked ahead seeing Tara, her eyes red filled with tears.

You felt her body shaking as she fell into your arms. Her arms had wrapped around your waist in a tight hold as she cried into your chest. You held her closer looking at everyone around the room. You knew she was most likely worried about you. But hearing her cry like this was concerning. The more you looked around, you realized someone was missing.

Amber. Amber wasn't in the room.

With a regretful nod, Wes confirmed your thoughts. Your eyes falling to Quinn who was also crying. Your heart ached at the look on her face. You had tried hard to get Amber and Quinn together but they both were too scared of rejection.

Your eyes filled with tears. Tara had lost her best friend, your friend. Amber had been the first one to know about your feelings towards Tara. Amber had been the one to push the both of you together.

And Quinn lost someone who could have been the love of her life.

Amber was gone.

*

"Hey, talk to me." You whispered, you were sat at the corner of the room with Tara sitting in between your legs. She was leaned back into your chest. Her head resting in your neck. You could hear her faint whizzing. She had cried herself into an asthma attack.

"I-I thought you were gone. Her...Amber's- her hands were so cold. Her hands have always been cold. But they were freezing...She's gone. Amber's gone."

She began to cry softly, you brought her closer softly rubbing her back. Hoping to give her a bit comfort. But you knew you could only do so much. Amber was like another sister to Tara.

"I'm sorry Tara." It was all you could say. There was nothing that could comfort Tara at the moment. She had just lost someone that was like a sister to her. You hated thinking what Amber could have felt. How scared she must of felt. For Amber to go through that it made you want to cry.

"He's bleeding, he's infected. We have to throw him out."

You were brought out of your thoughts to see Jason pointing a finger at Wes. You and Tara both stood up looking at Wes to see his nose was bleeding.

"Oh I slammed my face on the wall when I had to jump out the science lab window." He wiped his nose with his vest, that he had taken off.

"No. You're going to turn into one of those things. He's putting all of us in danger. Greg, Coach Loomis, Amber. They all started showing signs of infection with a nose bleed." Jason argued. "Look at his fucking hand-"

"Stop." You pushed Jason away from Wes. You did not want to believe your best friend was going to change into one of those things. You stood in-front of Wes taking his hand in yours. You saw the scratches on his fist. They didn't look too deep. But you weren't sure if he'd turn. Everyone you saw turn, they had been bitten.

"It's just a scratch." You stepped beside him looking back at your friends. "He'll be fine."

"Oh you're one to talk. Profesor Prescott. You have to do something about it." Jason argued, he wasn't going to let this infected be in the room. Putting him in danger.

"Wesley. How about you go into the soundproof room and wait it out. Make sure you're not infected. Just a safety precaution." Sidney truly still couldn't wrap her head around what was happening. The fear she felt was something she has never felt. But she knew she had to stay control and hopefully keep her kids safe.

"But Profesor Prescott-Please Wesley. We can't be too careful."

With a huff he walked into the soundproof room. The door shutting behind him. You watched as he sat down on a chair. You really hoped he didn't turn. You couldn't lose any more friends.

*

"Well times up. I think Jason here owes Wes an apology." Chad spoke his arms crossed as he stood straight looking down at the boy in question.

"What? Yea right. I'm not apologizing to him. Why the fuck would I?" Jason crossed his arms in anger. Hating the way everyone in the room was looking at him.

"Dude, just own up that you were wrong." Ethan said from his spot, he had been trying to comfort his sister. There was times he had thought that Quinn would have gotten together with Amber. He had high hopes for his sister. But now she looked heartbroken and he couldn't blame her. Amber was a big part of the group.

"Yes Jason please go apologize to Wesley."

With even the teacher gaining up him. He had no choice but to go into the room. A dark thought crossing his mind. Once he would follow through. The consequences not being enough to stop him.

Everything happened so quickly. He was fine. Then the next his nose was bleeding with her being blood red. Tara stood behind you, knowing very well what you were going through. You were losing your best friend and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it. Only being able to watch as Wesley changed into one of the monsters as well.

*

The group was losing more friends than they had been prepared for. First Amber and now Wesley. You had stood next to the window for the longest time. You Chad and Ethan had to push Wesley out of the window. Trying hard to avoid getting bit by your once called best friend. He had been your first friend, back in preschool. He had been the one to name you his best friend.

And now he was gone.

"We have to find a way outta of here." Your gaze was on the world outside. You had lost sight of Wes the moment he got up from falling from the third floor window. Tara stood by your side her grip on your hand never wavering.

"How? Out there, it's too crazy and too risky." Chad spoke from his spot in the floor. He knew that help would take too long for it to arrive. With how dark and chaotic it looked from the room window. He knew that help could take up to hours if not days.

"The front is not an option. But the through the back. The construction sight we could use that route and head through the woods." You needed to get your friends out of this school. Staying here was clearly not an option.

"Okay, how do we get through those zombies?" Ethan spoke from his spot between his sister and Chad. He saw the familiar crinkle form in between your eyebrows as you thought of something. He watched you, the sadness and the complete refusal of acceptance of Wes being gone was still in your eyes.

"Zombie guts?"

"What?" Everyone turned their gaze to Mindy.

Mindy shrugged, "don't look at me like that. Haven't you guys watched the Walking Dead or any other zombie related movie. We all established that these things are zombies. So there for we use zombie guts to hide are humanly odor with flesh and get the fuck outta here." She stood up, her hand held out to help Anika up.

"Alright, it's not like we have other options. how do we get one of those things in here?" Anika asked, she was scared. Scared for what was going come. Especially if this idea became something they actually did. They already lost Amber and now Wes.

The professor in the room stayed quiet, what had just happened was something she was surely she'd never forget. Wes, Judy's son. He had been the sweet boy one second and replaced by a flesh eating monster. The change had been quick. She didn't know what or how she'd tell Judy. Judy loved her boy, he had always been her pride and joy. To have that taken from her, Sidney couldn't even imagine what that felt like.

"There's plenty of st-bodies in the hall." Sidney finally found her voice. She felt guilty for even saying it but if it meant saving at least these kids, well she had to try.

*

It took a day of no rescue for the others to actually go through with the plan. The day had been spent going back up to the tech room. Retrieving a drone to look for any survivors. With no luck on the drone it had made the original plan more cemented in everyone's mind.

"We should still use something to distract those things." Sidney said as they had successfully dragged two dead zombie student bodies into the room. She could see how your bloody hand shook as you put down the blade. Ethan and Chad had helped you drag the two unrecognizable kids into the room.

"The intercoms you use for morning announcements?"

"Okay Anika come and help me."

While Anika and professor Prescott worked on that. You stayed looking down at the blood on your hands. You had just killed two students. Two students that were no longer themselves but yet you did it. The parents of said kids would never get the chance to see them again. And now, now you were planning to cut them open. Like pigs, all in the name of survival. What you were about to do, you weren't even sure if it'd work. But it had to. You and your friends couldn't last another day in this school.

Soft hands cupped your cheeks, lifting your gaze away from your hands. "Hey, look at me." Dark brown eyes looked back into yours. "Stay with me." Her words rang in your ears. Your racing thoughts come to a halt, you need to get Tara out of this school. Some where safe.

"It's ready." 

Now all that was to be done was to butcher these kids, before you could even pick up the blade someone else took picked it up.

"You've done enough, I got this." Ethan said giving you no chance before he took a deep breath and you flinched at the sound of bones breaking. You looked away, your eyes finding Tara who was by the window. You knew she was worried for her sister.

"Wait, Professor? How do I use the intercom's?" You asked while Ethan helped cover the others in blood.

"Just push down on this button to speak, okay go ahead."

"Sam if you can hear this, it's Y/n, we are going towards the construction sight. Please try to meet us there."

*

The walk was tense. Everyone in the group falling in a close line. Tara standing right behind you. The halls had a few stragglers, but they paid no mind to you or the others. Those things, too occupied with the morning positive announcements. From what you could see the plan was working. Thing that worried you was that said announcements were only thirty minutes long. And it's been twenty at most minutes that have passed since you all stepped out of the broadcasting room.

"We have to hurry."

Your head snapped back at Jason. The look was harsh, as the deal was to not talk and make unnecessary noise. But the damage was already done. The zombie that was closest to him had growled in his direction, it was enough for him to get out of line stumbling on a dead body, making him crash on to the floor. The yells of the zombies as the scream that left his lips was enough to draw in more.

Some bumped into you but paid you no mind you had taken Tara in your arms the moment he had fallen out of line. You couldn't do anything without putting the others at risk. So you took a quiet step back. Leading the others away.

It was too late for him anyway.

*

The plan was going too smoothly. You were only minutes away from entering the construction site. When the rain came followed by loud thunder. You breath hitched at the meaning. The smell of dead would wash away. Leaving you and your friends exposed.

"Run."

The panic washed over everybody, the pace picked up and the rain fell harder. The sound of infected roared as the picked up the scent of human flesh. The group cutting through the open field to get to the closest construction area. Running into the building.

"Get down!"

The group of teens didn't hesitate as they dropped to the floor. The faint noise of arrows flying by. The sound of the dead dropping and staying down. You had covered Tara with your body. When the only thing that could now be heard was the sound of rain and thunder. You looked up eyes connecting with familiar brown eyes.

With a chocked laugh you got up, helping Tara up. Tara only had a second until she realized who was in front of her. "Sam." The hug between the two sisters was a moment you felt like you needed. The relief in Tara's shoulder was noticeable. Sam looked at you and the group. Eyes furrowing, you felt like you knew what she was thinking. Shaking your head slightly, her eyes filled with remorse and slight tears.

"We have to get off school grounds. It's too crazy here." Danny said after retrieving the arrows. "I was able to talk with my dad before the phone lines stopped working. People were able to evacuate to the town over. The city is blocked by the military, so we have to go to one those checkpoints and hope they don't shoot first."

If the military was able to evacuate some people you knew that if the school grounds were crazy, the city was most likely worse. With a sigh of what you and the others will most likely go through. Getting to the construction sight had been hard and almost seemed too difficult. But now having to just go into the city, now that was impossible.

*

"Okay guys just stay close okay. Everyone has a weapon right?" Danny asked as he loaded his own bow with an arrow. His gaze falling on you. He could see how much it hurt to lose Wes. He had been more like brother to you and he knew how much you cherished the friendship with Wes. He also knew that Tara was hurting. Amber was also like sister to Tara. Being there when Sam couldn't.

"Okay. I'll be in the front, arrows in the front clearing a path. Y/n, Chad, Ethan think you two can handle the back?" Danny asked getting nods in response. "Everyone else try to stay in the middle don't get separated. Alright let's go."

*

He felt cold, confused, hungry? He felt really hungry. The hall floor was hard and wet, but the more he became aware the more he realized that it was blood on his clothes. His blood.

The memories came flooding back in, the feeling of being eaten alive. He remembered all those bites, he felt those bites before his world went black.

You.

You had left him there to die. Not even moving to help.

He'd make you pay.

*

Tara kept looking back at your direction, she didn't like that you were in the back. She was thankful to know that her sister was alive and not one of those things. Yet she still feared what could happen. They had successfully made it out of the school. Cutting through the back woods. The woods had been thankfully deserted with no infected in sight.

With Sam in front of her along side Danny, the walk was quiet, tense. She was afraid that the smallest noise would bring those things down on them.

She had to believe, or at least hope that everything would be okay.

*

You breathed heavily as you pushed your back onto the door. The dead pushing their own weight to get the door to open. "Fuck! Get something to block the door!" Chad and Ethan helped you with the door. While the rest helped with pushing a big cabinet. Your body pushed forward from the force of the door trying to he pushed open.

"Guys hurry up!" "Move!" The big cabinet fell in front of the door blocking the infected from getting in.

"Man that was intense, everyone okay?" You slumped back into a wall, everyone responded with a confirmation. "Come let's get away from the doors and windows."

Once everyone was in a more secluded area with less windows, you turned and checked over Tara. "You okay? No bites? Do you need your inhaler?" Hands stopping their movements on her cheeks.

"I'm fine. Come on let's rest." The day had been a long one. From moving discreetly and not so discreetly the group had to take refuge in a restaurant. The moment you had a chance you took Tara into your arms. Thankful to have her safely in your embrace.

With most of the electricity being out in the city the streets were dark and if not almost impossible to see in the dark. So you had to find shelter and having to move when the sun was out. The rest was well deserved, with everyone running low on energy. The group had taken shelter in a room furthest from the front door. But it had a window just in case of needed to get out of there quickly.

~

Tara had been asleep on your chest, she felt so exhausted, hungry. It was still dark out, so she wasn't sure what woke her up. You were still asleep, your chest rising and falling in a calming way. Your face was relaxed for the first time since this whole thing started. As she traced your facial features with her eyes, the glow of the moon was enough for her to see your face. She heard a noise. A noise that she was certain was what woke her up.

The door leading down to the empty hall way was closed and barricaded with a desk. Everyone had fallen asleep. As she moved to get up your arm wrapped around her waist tightened.

"Where are you going?" Your voice came out as a whisper. You had always been a light sleeper.

"I heard something." She whispered back. You were now wide awake as you sat up with her. She watched as you stepped silently towards the door, she moved behind you, refusing to let you go alone.

You only moved the desk a few inches. Enough to only crack open the door, only to get a peak outside. The noise was heard again. But you couldn't see anything, the halls were dark. The moon light only casted so much light. The noise got closer and closer until you saw two eyes looking up you. The breath you didn't even know you were holding was let out.

Meow.

The cat used the small gab you left open. To get in. The black cat rubbing against your leg.

"Oh it's a kitty." Tara gushed as she pointed the light from her phone on the cat. You chuckled and quietly moved to shut the door.

You didn't see it coming. You had been so focused on Tara's smile as she the cat in her arms. The force of the push had been so unexpected, the force throwing you back. Your eyes widen in disbelief at who stood there. Covered in blood and bloody snarl on his lips.

"You left me. You left me to die."

"Jason."

Everyone was now awake. You could feel the tension, and the guilt you felt washed in.

"Feeling guilty?" His twitching was noticeable. You couldn't wrap your mind around that fact that he was still alive.

"Yeah, I felt guilty too...when I infected Wesley. But then I remembered what he did to me. Then it went away."

Your ears felt like they were ringing, his word repeating in your mind. Wes was fine till Jason went in that room to apologize. Jason killed Wes. He killed your best friend. You acted before really thinking.

"Y/n!"

Your fists connected with his face. The rage and fury you felt washed over. It angered you further that he was laughing. The rage grew and the punches became more intense.

Arms wrapped around you as they tried to pull you off. The arms of Ethan and Chad pulling you off there hold on you tight.

"You'll all die."

The sounds of groaning and screams filled the hall. Everyone sharing a look as they all moved to shut the door. Jason laid on the floor as he continued to laugh loudly. Drawing the attention of the infected. You wasted no time to grab him once again throwing him out the window.

"Fuck, out the window." Anika moved towards the broken window. Seeing Jason no longer where he landed. She was scared. Scared on what that could mean. He had turned but he wasn't like the rest. He was still conscious of his actions.

The sun just barely coming out casting a light into the room. Your hands still shook, the anger you still had was still there just now accompanied by some overwhelming regret.

"We have to move!! They're breaking through the door!" Danny yelled as he along with Chad, Ethan, Mindy and Sam tried to hold the desk in place.

Tara was quick to cup your cheeks breaking you out of your spiral. "Baby come on we have to go. Stay with me." Your eyes held so much and she couldn't even comprehend what you were thinking.

"Go with Anika, Sam go down with them. Make sure the way is clear for the rest of us to go down." Taking Tara's hands in your giving them a what you could only hope was a comforting squeeze. "Go with them. I'll be right behind you."

Tara heard you say that once and she lost you for second. This time she didn't listen. She moved to help you with the desk. "Ta-No, I'm not leaving you again. Mindy go. Then Ethan and Chad. I'll go with you. The window is big enough for the both of to jump out of."

Quickly they cleared the room. The door giving out the moment you and Tara rushed forward. The quickness of how you both went out the window falling into a dumpster.

"We have to move! Come on." You took Tara's hand and rushed down the alley. The same alley that was once mostly empty of infected was now filled with them. In the center was Jason. A smug smirk on his face.

"RUN!!"

*

Tara had always been light, with your work outs and constant sports you played you were in great shape. So when you felt Tara slowing down. You didn't even need to look at her when you picked her up. Her arms and legs wrapping around you tightly. Her shortness in breath had you worried and you knew she needed her inhaler.

"The bus! Get on the bus!" Sam yelled her pace picking up as she reached the bus getting the door open, thanking what ever god was up there that the keys were in the key was in the ignition.

You had been the last one to reach the bus. Only a step in when you felt a sharp pain on your forearm looking behind you to see Jason before an arrow was shot right in between his eyes. His limp body falling to the floor, unmoving.

The bus moved forward as the doors closed. The infected crashing into the side of the bus.

You focused on tara whose breathing was becoming more dangerously labored. You sat her down on one of the seats digging in your pocket to take out the inhaler. "Come baby, use this. Breathe in. I got you." You spoke softly in her ear. The inhaler brought up to her lips. "Nice and easy. That's my girl." It took a few more minutes for her breathing to return to a somewhat normal rhythm.

*

"Okay I think we lost them." Mindy spoke up as stood by Sam who had been driving. The roads were empty of infected, abandoned cars were on the streets but the bus was strong enough to move the cars out of the way.

Everything was a bit muffled for you. All you could think about now was the bite on your forearm that was covered by your long sleeve shirt. You weren't sure at first if you were going to turn seeing as Jason was still, alive? But as the minutes passed and the hour grew closer. You felt yourself growing lighter, weaker. You had to tell them.

Tara was resting her head on your chest as you leaned your back on the window. The cat on her lap also resting. Everyone was so unaware of what was happening.

"Sam stop the bus."

"What?" She looked back at you and then back at the road. It was an open field now the city behind as you were the check point wouldn't be too far now.

"What's wrong?" Tara pulled away from your chest to look at you. Her eyes searching for why you would want Sam to stop the bus. But you didn't meet her eyes. Instead you stood up as the bus stopped. Her hand reaching to take a hold of yours.  Her breath hitching and the chill rolling down her body at the feeling of your cold hands.

"No." It came out so small, denying what it meant. You were probably just cold. Your hands got cold sometimes.

Your eyes filled with tears. You pulled back afraid of what was to come. You didn't want to hurt anyone. Especially not Tara.

Chad moved to stand behind Tara, confused what was wrong. "What's going on?"

You took another step back towards the doors. Tara refused to look away from you as her eyes filled with more tears, her lip quivering as she refused to believe what was happening.

"Y/n?" Ethan asked standing by Chad. His hand reaching for Chad's.

The lump in your grew bigger as everyone's eyes were now on you. your eyes finally meeting Tara's, the pure anguish and refusal to accept what was to come.

"Jason bit me, I wasn't sure if it was going to happen. But I am turning. I—I can fe—el it." The tears that blurred your vision finally fell. The feeling of you losing the control of your mind was a lot more, than you had expected.

"Da—nny shoot me."

"What?" Danny's voice cracked as he took you in. Your hands were shaking blood starting to roll down your noise.

"No!" The whizzing got worse as Tara rushed to get to you but was stopped by Sam. She tried hard to get out of her sisters hold but Sam had always been strong.

"D—on't want to....be one of th—ose things." You could feel the blood rolling down your noise. Your vision coming and going. Your knees growing weaker as you crumbled down to the floor. "Da—nny please."

Danny looked at Sam who was also crying trying to comfort her younger sister. Her brown eyes filled with uncertainty.

You tried to get back up wanting to get out of the bus.

Tara couldn't let you go. She couldn't, seeing your once y/ec eyes were now covered in a bloody red color. She cried out your name, desperately trying to get to you. "Sam please. There could be a cure. We just have to get her to one of the camps." Ignoring all the signs of the infection taking over.

"D—anny!" Your voice came out once more. More desperately. You had stood back up red veins noticeable on your face. Danny loaded his arrow hands shaking as he aimed it at you. You were no longer you.

"I'm sorry." The arrow went fast, and you dropped even faster. Your body laying thee no longer twitching, no longer moving. The arrow went directly into your left eye. He let his arrow drop his ears felt like they were ringing, muffling picking up the cry of Tara.

The world was coming to an end. And in a zombie apocalypse, everyone's survival was not guaranteed.

:(

[vm-haunts]

...

The spirit is always there with the child, but most of the time they're... resting. Aware, but only barely, of the world passing by them, and later of the child that tried to speak with them.

They're getting better though. At first the only clear thing they can process is the child's voice when he speaks to them. Then they found enough strength to stay with the child, before their little shrine is lost.

By the time the child found a new home again, the spirit is aware enough to hum at him, sometimes, beyond just answering his voice.

The spirit still doesn't have a voice, but they can be heard now.

...

The spirit is flying.

Technically they always had been, but this is different. The spirit is flying because the child is flying, and that feels- familiar.

Flying across the skyline, a city sprawling beneath them, the need to protect burning in their heart... The spirit doesn't have memories, but this familiarity might be the closest they get to having one.

Unexplainably, it filled them with equal parts nostalgia and dread.

But, but. The child is happy. Well fed and warm, in a better place than he had been in- forever. So eager to learn and to help, as he had always been, now happy to finally have the means to do it.

So the spirit is happy too, for the child.

It doesn't stop their humming worry.

...

There is a watch on the table, and the spirit is watching the boy carefully take it apart.

The names are unfamiliar as the boy reads about the innards of a watch, but the spirit feels like he had seen those intricate movemens, held those delicate gears, heard that quiet ticking whirr.

The vibration of a million different movements in motion, the crown turning the gears to set the hands, the escapement of time ticking and whirring until the end of Infinity.

The spirit blinks, and touched his ears. The watch is back in it's box, so he is back besides the boy's beating heart.

The boy sighed, and rubbed his eyes. The watch need a lot more work to fix than he thought. Need a lot more time then he had.

But he will fix it, even if it ends up late.

...

There is a wail building up, had been for a long while now. And this, this would be the final bar to push him past the threshold.

A crack in a dam, in a pressurized tank. In a boy's bones, in a ghost's core.

There is another ghost here, one that doesn't belong. They tried to take the boy from him help. They couldn't.

The spirit- is cradling the boy in their core. Is moving a half dead dying body. Is trying to free, to save, to shield. Is looking at-

A pressure meter digital timer, countdown to an explosion. Always an explosion.

Too late, too helpless, too weak, too useless. Repeat

The other ghost is screaming something, at the body, at the spirit, at the boy.

The spirit swallows down his wail, and hums at the boy instead.

Jason hums back, before the shockwave can reach them.

...

The spirit had no voice, no memory, no shape, no name.

But, it knows that once upon a time, it did. Knows that there is a Before, somewhere, even if it can't remember that. Knows that things must have happened, in that Before, because of what felt familiar.

He has a name, now. Not his name, but he has a name to remember, to trace with his voice, with his fingers.

Jason Todd.

The ghost of a dead boy settled under the hooded angel, and waits for the other boy to wake up.

Little Prayers

A shrine is where gods and spirits resides, a little kid read from a book.

Thinking of that, the kid made a shrine in his corner of the apartment.

It consist of one candle and two prized books, made scared by a few candy wrappers and the prayers of a little child.

A few days later, a tiny wisp of something moved in.

...

The spirit is... weak.

Weak to the point of almost fading, when it found this tiny empty shrine and moved in.

It wasn't always this weak, maybe. Once upon a time, it might even have been strong. With a solid body, a real name.

Now it has none of that, just a wisp that held no memory nor shape.

The spirit confessed to the child, in a voice that isn't made from sound, that it isn't a god, nor can it offer protection in return. That it is sorry for taking the offering but couldn't brought anything in return.

The child doesn't know the difference though, between a god and a spirit, between then and now. Nor does he particularly cares. His little shrine worked and that's the important bit. The child told the spirit exactly that, and got a flicker in the candle light as a nod.

So the spirit stayed, in the little shrine of one candle and two books. Listening to the prayers of a child, spoken more to a friend than a god.

Maybe it can offer something back after all, the spirit thought. A presence, a friend. That'll be... not good or enough, but nice, maybe.

...

Jason is- not lucky, no.

Lucky would mean his mom is healthy, or never had gotten sick; lucky would mean his dad not getting caught, or not needing to work anything illegal at all. That would be real luck, and Jason don't have that kind of luck.

But Jason isn't absolutely unlucky either, he reasoned. His parents aren't good people by the standards of most, but they do love him, when they're able to.

That's better luck than a lot of kids in the Alley.

Jason tells that to the little god- spirit, he isn't sure he knows or cares of the difference. The wisp living in his shrine wavers, and the shadows whispers again that they're sorry they can't help him.

Jason is fine with that. The spirit staying with him in the little shrine is enough luck, maybe.

...

Then, one day, Jason's luck ran out.

Well, not really. There's a lot that can happen to a kid left alone in the Alley, and Jason had avoided the worst of those things so far. It's the same kind of not-quite-luck that he seems to had, and Jason is greatful for it. Sometimes.

Strangely, the spirit follows him still, even without the tiny shrine to hold them. So Jason shares his day and what food he could find, like he always did. He'll eat the offering too, after, like he always did. No sense wasting perfectly fine food.

The spirit flickers sometimes, speaks with him in a way that isn't really speaking, and Jason is... not content, but greatful, maybe, to be not entirely alone.

[midnightspasms]

Pairing: Professor!Geto x reader

Synopsis: Geto likes your type. The kind of girl who'd never risk her future by engaging in any sort of inappropriate rendezvous with her nasty professor, him. So when you apply to become his teaching assistant, he can't let the opportunity go.

Content warnings: Swearing, male masturbation, lewd/perverse behaviour, age gap, teacher x student relationship, spit sharing if you squint, Geto is a creep and a pervert!

Suguru wouldn't exactly consider himself a moral person. Sure, he didn't steal or kill, but that was the bare minimum. He wouldn't ever fail a student purely because he didn't like their face, but maybe he'd put much of the topics they struggled in in the test. So sure he wasn't exactly Jack the Ripper, but he wasn't that much of a good person.

The first day you walked into his class, he could tell that there was something in his chest for you. It wasn't serious, wasn't plentiful. Truly, if you dropped the class, he'd probably end up forgetting you entirely.

But you didn't, and the more he saw you, well...

He likes the kind of girl you are; the pretty, wealthy heiress with gold on her wrists and diamonds on her ears. You're the girl with a meticulously crafted reputation. The model student with big brains and a nice ass but doesn't show off the latter. The one that's gonna graduate Summa Cum Laude and pretend like that's what landed her summer internship and not daddy's connections.

Oh, he likes your type. The kind of girl who'd never risk her future by engaging in any sort of inappropriate rendezvous with her nasty professor, him.

When you apply to be his TA, he's pleased. He picks you without hesitation, throwing the rest of the applications in the bin.

When you step into his office with your not-too-tight top and not-too-short skirt that does nothing to hide that ass, he grins at you lazily, pleasantly, as you sit before his desk and he begins giving you the rundown of your work as his TA.

"You can begin with grading those papers," he says afterwards, voice smooth like velvet, deep like a 15-foot well as he gestures to the pile of test scripts on his desk.

You look over to the pile of test scripts at the edge of his desk. "Sure," you hum as you stand and pick up the stack.

You look up at him, Professor Geto, "Is there a marking guide I could use?" You ask him slowly as you stand before his desk.

Out of all your professors, Geto was probably the one that intimidated you the most. And not in a scary way, it was the way he was; the languid yet confident way he carried himself that made him seem untouchable, made him seem so far away from the other academic staff.

You became his TA because of his connections in the world of academia. Otherwise, he unsettled you.

Geto cocks his head to the side, arms crossing over his chest, as he regards you with a languorous blink. He's amused, though for what reason, you don't know.

He lets out a small huff, a sort of exhale through his nose as he reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a slender booklet. It's a copy of the marking guide; crisp and new. He hands it to you, eyes never once leaving your face.

"You're a smart girl," he says lowly, voice honeyed and smooth.

You take it from him with your free hand, "Thank you."

You turn around and wake over to the smaller desk next to his, putting the pile of scripts down on the wood. "Do I have a time constraint, sir?"

Geto sits back in his own chair, the leather making a quiet creaking noise as he folds one leg over the other, ankle over knee. He leans his elbow against the chair handle, his jaw propped on his knuckles.

"No, not exactly," he replies with a shrug. "Do it in your own pace."

You hum as you take a seat, your lips pursed. "Alright." You say as you pick up the first script.

You sit with your ankles crossed, the marking guide to your right as you begin grading the scripts. It's the scripts of freshman students, and it's obvious in the way the answers are structured.

You furrow my brows as you lean closer, trying to grade it the way your professor does, strict but not harsh, and with comments on how to improve.

All the while, Geto watches you. There's something almost voyeuristic in the way he does so - as if he were a photographer taking a candid picture of a woman without her knowledge. His eyes slowly drift over your form, the way the sunlight shines on your hair, the way you push a stray strand away from your face, the way your skirt tightens over your thighs...

It's strange. He doesn't even really like you, but there's something about you that pulls him towards you like a moth to a flame.

And you can't deny that the atmosphere is calming. The silence in the air and the air conditioning has your focused, and you finish the scripts in a little over an hour, silent as you put the last paper on top of the pile. "I'm done, sir." You call out to him as you finish, turning to look at him.

When you turn to look at him, he lifts an eyebrow, and his mouth slowly quirks up. "All thirty test scripts in an hour?" he says disbelievingly, but the impressed tone in his voice betrays his words. "I knew you were smart, but God damn."

You purse your lips as he speaks. "Would you like to go over them?" You ask slowly, eyeing the scripts. Now that he's expressed such surprise in the time you'd used, you can't help but doubt your work.

He lets out a low chuckle as he uncrosses his legs and stands up from his chair, rolling his shoulders back as the muscles in his back flex. He's a tall man with a wide chest, a lean swimmer's physique, all lean muscle and languid grace.

He walks over to your desk, and looks down at the pile of testscripts before he picks one of them up, thumbing through it.

You sit forward on your chair, a leg crossed over the other as you eye him tensely. Your elbows on the desk, fingers holding your pen to your mouth as you slowly, absently chew on the cap at the end of it.

Geto's gaze is how it always is, meticulous and calculated, as he scans through. The way he flips through papers, the way he stands, the subtle yet immense precision and grace in his posture as he examines your work only makes you more on edge.

While you sit there, tense and with a pen in your mouth, Geto stands tall and relaxed beside you. He reads through some of the answers for a minute, before he hums and nods to himself.

Then, slowly, he sets the paper down and looks down at you, and his gaze drifts down to your mouth, where your pen is in between your teeth.

He reaches out, and without saying a word, he gently pulls the pen from your mouth with his fingers.

Your lips partly just slightly as he pulls the pen from them, and you say nothing about it.

Geto holds the pen in his hand, idly spins it through his fingers with a practiced dexterity. His gaze drifts to your mouth, now open slightly, before it slowly lifts to your eyes.

Then, he lets out a huffed laugh, and looks away.

"Your grading is good," he says slowly, a hint of amused surprise in his voice as he glances at you from the corner of his eye. "You picked all the correct answers, and you gave just enough critique. Good girl."

The praise feels inappropriate, but then again, everything about Geto does.

"Thank you, sir." You murmur as your gaze drifts down to the pen in his hand. Embarrassingly, you can see the shine of your saliva on it, and a weird feeling spurs in your belly at the thought of your professor holding that pen. "I tried to emulate your grading."

As you mention emulating his grading, he hums, a languid sound in the back of his throat as he glances back at you. He doesn't smile, not really, but the amused look in his eyes only deepens.

"You did a good job of it," he says lowly. "You've a knack for this."

You can't help but smile. It's a slow, little one, but there's a tiny hint of pride in your eyes. "Thank you. Honestly... I didn't think I'd do this cause of scheduling difficulties." You murmur. You already have a lot on your plate. Truly, you only applied to be his TA so you could get recommended for Master's programs.

His eyes remain on you, taking in the small, slow smile that curves your lips. He's never really seen you smile in class, and the way your small mouth curves up on the edges makes you look so different.

Your phone buzzes then. You look down at it and Geto looks down at you.

"I have a meeting now, sir." You say as you stand, relieved to finally be done after grading those scripts.

"Sure," he says, voice deceptively light as he lets the word roll off his tongue. "Have fun, darling."

You offer a noncommittal hum as you grab your bag, hanging it over your shoulder as you turn to leave.

"Good night, sir." You tell him slowly as you bow once before making your way out of the room.

Geto's eyes remain on you as you walk out the door, watching the way your hips sway.

Once the door closes after you, he stands in place for a moment, clenching and unclenching his jaw. Then, he sits back down in his chair with a huff, picking up your pen again, tracing his thumb over the cap.

Even as he sits alone in his classroom, Geto thinks about you.

That small, barely-there pout you had on your face as you left, the way you walked away from him with your hips and ass swaying, the way you sat before him and focused on your grading for an hour.

He brings the pen to his mouth, and before he can even fully register what he's doing, he sticks the tip of the pen into his mouth, tasting the drying remnants of your saliva on the cap.

He's not quite sure what he's doing, but once he tastes the residue of you on the tip of the pen, a single thought runs through his head.

What would you taste like?

He pulls the pen out of his mouth with a quiet pop as his thoughts wander, a sly, serpentine smile on his lips.

He looks down at the pen, tracing the writing on the body idly with his eyes, before he lets out a soft hum.

Oh, he's going to have fun with this...

He slowly pushes back from his desk, the chair letting out a creaking noise. He stands up from his chair and walks over to the door, quietly opening it, peeking his head out and looking at the quiet, empty hallway.

He can't see anyone. It's completely deserted, not a single person in sight.

Geto steps back into his office with a satisfied hum and locks the door with a click. The silence in the room is deafening. No one's there to interrupt him. He walks back to his desm with no apprehension.

Geto leans back against his chair, palms planted on the wood of his desk as he stares down at the pen he still holds in one hand. He holds it up in front of his face, and he slowly runs his tongue over the plastic.

Your saliva tastes slightly sweet, with a hint of bitterness. Intoxicating. Just like you...

Geto lets out a quiet exhale as he imagines the taste of you in his mouth. He's never tasted you - of course he hasn't - but the thought of that saliva being on his tongue and not on some inanimate pen is enough to make him shiver.

He looks down at the pen again, at the saliva shine, the way it gleams in the light...

He pops the cap into his mouth and swirls it around with his tongue. A quiet grunt escapes his chest as he tastes you on the plastic, and he slowly brings a hand down to his trousers...

He knows he really shouldn't be doing this, not in his office, not after hours, not as your professor. But something about you turns him on, badly. Maybe it's the way you bite your lower lip when you're focused, maybe it's the cute way you chew on the pen caps, maybe it's the way you look him in the eyes with that tiny, little pout...

The thought of you looking up at him, down on your knees, mouth open in front of him...

He lets out a hiss, leaning back against the edge of the desk as he palms himself through his pants. He closes his eyes and lets out a low moan as he pictures it, one hand cupping his bulge through his trousers and the other keeping him steady on the desk as his mind conjures up images he's never had before.

You're not just a pretty girl, no, you're a smart, pretty girl. The kind that gets straight As and knows how to use your words.

You could probably talk him into almost anything, if you tried. That thought makes his knees almost buckle.He knows that you're too good, too pure to be as dirty as him, too innocent to be as perverted as he is right now, but still, he can't get the images out of his head.

Imagining you in front of him, on your knees, wearing that pretty green skirt of yours, looking up at him with that little pout on your face as he tells you to do whatever he says...

"Darling." he murmurs your name, voice husky and rough as he unbuckles his belt one-handedly and spits out the cap of then pen unto his free palm before dropping it on his desk. The metal of the buckle clinking against itself. He unzips his trousers quickly, hands almost shaking in his eagerness.

He knows this is wrong, that it's wrong to think about you like this, but God, he can't stop. He lets out a quiet moan as his hand wraps around his already hard, the head already slightly sticky with pre-cum. He strokes himself once, twice.

He's used to imagining nameless, faceless girls, the kind they use in porn, the kind that don't make the right noises, but instead of that, instead of them... he's imagining you now.

You're not even here right now, but he can almost hear you. The way your voice gets all soft when you're focused, the cute little noises you make when you're concentrating on your work.

He can practically see it now. You, on your knees, looking up at him between his legs, watching him with that cute little pout on your face as he tells you to do whatever he says...

He can't hold back from letting out a moan as the thoughts continue to spiral. He imagines you looking up at him through your eyelashes, pink, little tongue sticking out of your mouth, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

"Darling," he says breathlessly, eyes still closed, "Open your mouth for me."

He tightens his grip around his cock, stroking just a tad faster as the scene changes, imagining you in nothing, looking up at him with your eyes wide and eager on your knees.

And, because he knows you're good, his brain even supplies him with the image of you begging him to do it. "Fuck-" He chokes out a groan, squeezing at the base of his cock.

It's all slimy and moist at this point, his purple head still bubbling out pre as he masturbates to the thought of you, hips bucking into his hand like a schoolboy virgin.

He can't hold back from letting out a moan as the thoughts continue to spiral. He imagines you looking up at him through your eyelashes, pink, little tongue sticking out of your mouth, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

"Shit baby," he says breathlessly, eyes squeezed shut, free hand tightly gripping the arm of the chair till his knuckles are white. He's going to cum soon and he knows, the room filled with the nasty schlack schlack of his hand furiously stroking his dick. "Open your mouth for me, baby."

God, he can't get enough of the thought. You, with that cute little pout, opening your mouth, wanting to do as he says, wanting to be good and swallow all the cum he's goibg to release.

"Oh Godddd," his head falls back, neck against the headrest as his hips buck up into his palm and his body goes tight like a bowstring.

His dick spurts it out when Getou finally cums, ropes of sticky, white arousal landing on his stomach and his slacks.

He's breathing heavily when he finally comes down, limp dick still in his grip as his eyes catch the pen cap on his desk. Your pen cap.

"Fuck- I have to fuck her."

[lost-seal]

I wanted to analyze all the bedrolls in mouthwashing. Why? Because something is bothering me so I'm reaching out for opinions. SPOILERS FOR THE GAME, btw.

Now I haven't searched through the whole game for every single instance of a bedroll, I'm just looking at the main ones we see. Any images are screenshots from a video so sorry if the quality is bad.

Swansea's

His is surrounded by bottles (can't tell if empty or not), and is outside Utility. Most likely so he can guard Utility better. Interestingly enough, this was the bed that Daisuke was placed on after the vent incident. I guess Swansea had no more reasons to guard Utility anymore, or even sleep for that matter. Plus I think it's closest to where they found Daisuke. Correct me if I'm wrong.

Anya's

Her's is next to the Polle statue. I read a theory that she put her bed there because it goes off automatically when someone goes near it. That way it alarms her and potentially wakes the others up if someone gets too close. I think that's very plausible, and makes Jimmy breaking it sad.

Another thing that caught my attention is that she's sleeping away from Jimmy. I don't know the term, but like, her head is furthest from Jimmy while her feet are closest. Once again, maybe so that she really hears Polle when someone gets too close.

Daisuke's and Jimmy's

(because they're so close together I might as well mention them together)

This one makes me feel the most anxious, given what we know about Jimmy... He's also close to Anya's too, but not one toss-and-turn away like he is with Daisuke. They are so close that when Jimmy wakes up because Curly's cries are echoing through the halls, you can hear Daisuke breathing without needing to get up. Not snoring, no, small shallow breathes through the mouth.

Which also means Daisuke is a mouth breather but let's not get side-tracked.

They sleep next to each other before AND after Swansea and Anya's talk. Which either means that A) Anya didn't tell Swansea about what Jimmy did to her and her current situation, maybe instead discussing how she thinks Jimmy was the one to actually crash the ship. B) She did tell him and Swansea didn't tell Daisuke because he thought Jimmy wouldn't do that to him. That's all sorts of messed up, especially when we know he's much younger and is easy to manipulate if you say the right words. As we learn how Swansea was able to keep Daisuke away from helping with the foam, he doesn't tend to question things if it's from someone he views highly (With Swansea > Jimmy in the hierarchy).

It makes me feel nervous about what could have been, or even possibly about what's already happened and we'll never learn about it.

Also Daisuke sleeps with his boots on. What. Why? Is it dev reasons? Wild.

All in all neither Anya or Daisuke should be close to Jimmy there's so much space there please move away.

[gilverrwrites]

Dick being a bit of a perv towards Tim’s friend…you and Tim obviously have crushes on another, but Dick subtly convinces you that it’s unrequited, that Tim is turned off by how naive you clearly are…unless you want Dick to teach you some things, he’s be more than happy to *do it*…of course his hands are already creeping down your pants as he says this.

What?! Anon you're crazy. Dickie would never ever do something like this! Anyway... Warnings: Coercion, manipulation, choking, slut shaming, implied age gap Virgin!Reader.

The very first time he met you; Dick made it his mission to ensure he was your favourite member of the family. He’s often the first to invite you to events. He’s always cutting in at galas, much to Tim’s chagrin, and telling you how great you look. Not just the fancy stuff either, he showers you with compliments all the time. He just loves your cosy hoodie, and did you get a haircut? It looks great.

Sometimes he’ll make a show of staring at you, all starry-eyed as he says shit like “Wow. You really are just sooo beautiful. Tim’s a lucky guy.” Knowing full well Tim and you are not an item.

“If only I’d got there first.” Knowing that his comments will almost certainly embarrass Tim.

“What did Tim do to deserve you, anyway?” That the embarrassment is liable to make Tim push you away a little bit.

But it’s not all flirtation. Dick also asks about your life, your friends and family. He learns about your hobbies, and watches your favourite films so he can talk to you about them. He's always offering advice, warranted or not. He just wants to be ‘the best soon-to-be brother-in-law’, you know?

So, he's unsurprised and elated when you call him one night, on the brink of tears after seeing Tim on what looked like a date with someone else. “I feel so weird calling you since you're brothers but you're the only one who knows us both.”

“No, no, no. Don't ever feel like you can't talk to me. You can always come to me for anything! Why don't I come over?”

Half an hour later he's on your couch, listening to you lament about your hopeless crush on Tim. He pats your shoulders, and rubs your back throughout, subtly getting closer and closer until you're all but sat in his lap with his hand dangerously high up your thigh.

“Listen, Tim is my brother, and I love him, I do. And I don't believe in slut shaming, that's not what this is, but he does get around. A lot.” He catches a stray tear with his thumb. You don't move when he lingers, so he keeps shooting, caressing your cheek until he reaches your lips where he grazes their softness far longer than is appropriate. His cock is rock hard from cradling you, there's no way you haven't noticed it digging into your asscheek. You can't be that dumb? “I shouldn't say this, it’s not my place but you deserve to know. He’s a cheater. He's cheated in almost every relationship he's been in. I think he gets bored… Sexually.”

He hadn’t thought you could look any sadder, but you managed it. He almost feels bad. Almost.

“You should be fine though. You know what you're doing, right? No? That's crazy, you're so lovely.”

It takes a little persuasion, but it's cursory more than anything.

“Tim doesn't need to know; it’ll be our little secret.” He promises as he slides his fingers under your waistband.

That night he makes it all about you. He practically spoils you, never using anything but his hands and mouth to make you melt for him, over and over. It takes all his resolve not to kiss you stupid, only because you make such captivating sounds. Such moreish whimpers and moans. For his ears only.

He’s the worst brother in the world.

But that doesn’t stop him from calling you every chance he gets.

He knows he’s going to hell when he’s filled with a sick sense of pride, after dropping you off for a coffee date with Tim, having cum all over your tongue only moments earlier and driven you there with his hand practically lodged between your legs.

Sometimes he fantasises about sucking his name into your chest. Just so Tim will know exactly where you've been if he ever has the balls to close the deal.

But the veneer can only last so long, and you unknowingly chip away at it, bit by bit every time you say Tim’s name. “Do you think Tim would like this?” “I can't believe I'm asking but do you know if Tim…” “Oh, I can’t tonight, Tim and I…”

It finally shatters the first time he fucks you though. You take it so well, slowly letting him stretch out your tight, virgin hole. He barely even has to coach you through it, just a few sweet words of praise, his fingers brushing you in all the right places and your bouncing on his cock like it was made for you.

But then you go and spoil it. He barely even remembers what you said exactly. “Something, something, Tim.” and he's seeing red.

The next thing out of your mouth is a startled gasp as he fixes his hand around your throat and squeezes, pulling you close and pushing his length so deep inside that your eyes roll back as he spits; “Tim doesn't want you.”

You're like a deer in the headlights, wide-eyed and confused but still moaning like a slut as he ruts up into you. “He did, but do you really think he'd ever touch you now? When he finds out you've been hanging off his big brother's dick? Should of taken photos so he can see how bad you wanted it.”

“But- but you said-”

“I know what I said.” You look the most aggrieved when he cuts you off. Never in a million years did you think golden boy Dick Grayson would be so callous. “And you bought it all. God- you’re too easy.”

He trails off for a moment, getting lost in how fucking good you feel, walls tight and twitching around him, milking him a little bit more every time he pinches your throat or bites out another nasty comment. All this time he’s been so nice to you; he should have known you’d like him mean.   

“Fucking shit~ I was never gonna let Tim have you. You were mine the moment you walked into the manor.”

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝—𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Stray Kids one shot

Synopsis: The company found out about Chan dating you and in order to save his idol life, he is forced to break up with you. The both of you saw this coming but the heartbreak is unbearable…

Warnings: BREAK UP ONE SHOT. Smut🔞, unprotected sex, Oral (f. receiving), pet names, heartbreak, angst, tears.

Minors do not interact!!!

Note: This isn't a loving one shot but a heartbreaking one, just a practice because I wanna explore writing angsty scenes. It's VERY different from my usual work, so I really hope you'll enjoy this...

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count: 3.9k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The sound of the clock ticking in the once warm apartment felt like stabbing a nail through your head.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Time doesn't stop flying. And God you'd do anything to stop it or go back to relive certain moments which are now memories. Time slips through our fingers like sand, no matter how tightly we try to hold it.

The air was suffocating, thick with tension, unspoken words that refused to come out. Your eyes never left the floor and you could feel his eyes looking at you, his heart torn between regret and determination.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this—you had promised each other that. But some things were beyond promises, beyond dreams, beyond even love.

“You knew this could happen, right?” Chan’s voice was a soft whisper, as if saying it out loud would make it real.

Your throat tightened, your eyes blurring with tears that you tried so hard to hold back. Of course it had come to an end. The universe was cruel, pulling two souls together only to tear them apart.

You nodded, feeling the weight of every unsaid word pressing on your chest. "I knew," you murmured, the words barely finding their way out.

A flicker of pain crossed Chan’s face, and he took a deep breath. “If there was any other way… you know I’d choose you. Every time. But I can’t... I can’t risk everything I’ve worked for. It’s not just about me—it’s the group, the fans...”

You bit your lip, desperately wanting to say something, anything to make him stay. But deep down, you understood. You always had.

The two of you risked it and spent the night together at a hotel, when a company staff spotted Chan with a mysterious woman. The following morning Chan was called into the headquarters where he was met with cold stares and harsher words.

The company laid out the stakes in brutal clarity; his career, his group, everything he’d worked his whole life for, would crumble if he continued this relationship. There was no room for compromise, no softening of the blow. Chan had been forced to choose.

He was lucky that this remained in the walls of the company, but that luck came with a price. They had made it clear that they’d bury the scandal, keep it from reaching the public as if this had never happened, but only if Chan ended things immediately and distanced himself from you completely. They were giving him a way out, but it was one he’d have to take alone.

And now, in the echoing silence of the apartment, with everything unravelling around you both, the gravity of that choice felt like an anchor around your heart.

Chan’s eyes fell to the floor, his shoulders heavy with the weight of guilt. “I never wanted it to come to this,” he said, his voice breaking. “But if I don’t… if we don’t…” His words trailed off, as though even he couldn’t bear to say them.

A bitter laugh escaped you, though you hadn’t meant for it to. “So, what? We just pretend none of this ever happened? That all of this was nothing?”

He flinched, and you saw the flash of hurt in his eyes. “No… no, it wasn’t nothing. You know it wasn’t.”

You shook your head, the tears you’d fought so hard to hold back finally spilling over. “Then why does it feel like it is? Why does it feel like I’m just… another sacrifice?” You couldn’t look at him. If you did, you felt like you’d lose your mind and crush your already broken heart.

Chan closed the distance between you, his hands resting on your arms as he pulled you close, his forehead touching yours. “You’re not a sacrifice,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re everything to me. That’s why this hurts so damn much.”

Your eyes remained closed, cheeks red and warm, breaths shallow and broken, as if anything you both could come up with would ever be a solution for what was about to happen. Chan held you against his chest, letting your aching tears soak his hoodie. He was holding back, he had to stay strong for the both of you.

You clung to him, fingers fisting in his hoodie, as if holding on tightly enough could somehow prevent the inevitable.

He stroked your hair gently, whispering soft words of comfort, though he knew, just as you did, that no words could fix this. Each breath he took was slow and measured, as though he were struggling to keep his composure, but you could feel the tremble in his chest, betraying the pain he was trying so hard to hide.

After what seemed like eternity, you pulled away from him and finally looked into his eyes through your blurry vision. Chan’s eyes locked with yours, encouraging you to say what you want to say at this moment.

“Chan,” His hand cupped your face. “Kiss me.” You said softly.

And so he did. Without a word escaping, his mouth crashed with yours, hungrily, desperately, as though he could pour every ounce of his love, everything left unspoken.

His hands tightened around you, pulling you closer until there was nothing between you but the pounding of your hearts. The kiss was fierce, filled with a longing so deep it felt like drowning.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, taking in his taste, his scent, allowing yourself to memorise every part of him till you were nothing but lost in the feel of him and everything outside ceased to exist.

Fierceness turned into anger as you both stumbled towards the bedroom, tearing your clothes off. His hoodie, your shirt, his shoes, your pants, until you both remained in nothing but your underwear.

Chan broke apart but came back with a roughness that sent a thrill through your body as he pushed you onto the bed and towered over you, sliding off your panties and unclasping your bra. Every inch of you was on liquid fire as Chan discarded his boxers, putting your legs up his shoulders as he buried his face in your wet heat.

A loud moan escaped your lips as his tongue feasted on your soaking cunt, lapping away your sweetness and getting drunk at the way you taste.

Your hands fisted his hair as you grind your needy pussy up his face, Chan groaned sucking on your clit like a man starved.

“Fuck baby,” His fingers gripped your soft thighs continuing his merciless assault on your throbbing nub. “Can never get enough of you.”

All you could do is moan at the way he worshipped you with his mouth and the low, husky sound of his beautiful voice.

He came upwards, kissing a hot trail over your pubic bone, your stomach, giving so much attention to your sweet nipples and crashed his mouth on yours as he sank into you in a slow, deliberate thrust.

Your body arched as you drank every drop of him, welcoming his huge length, letting him stretch you and fill you up completely. Your heart ached but your body responded to him the way it always did.

Eager and desperate.

Chan palmed your breast, swiping his thumb over the hard, sensitive nub slick with his saliva as he pounded into you in an agonising yet sweet pace, hitting spots that made you see stars over and over again.

“Chan…Chan please,”

Pleasure consumed you both whole, a hiss escaped his lips when he heard you moan, a sound that drove him insane, a sound he could listen for the rest of his life.

“Hmm, what do you want darling?” He pinched your nipple just as he slammed into you that tore a sharp cry from your throat.

I want you. With me forever

But those words couldn’t come out of your mouth. So all you could do was moan for him to go faster and harder. His fingers stroked your clit with the perfect pressure, you wanted him to keep pushing you further and further.

Nails dug into his back as he gave you what you asked for, the dimly lit room filled with moans and whimpers and skin slapping against skin. Chan’s mouth never left yours as he thrusted into you in force that felt like ecstasy, your orgasm tore through you as you came all over his cock.

He followed you soon after, a hot load of his cum gathering inside you, groaning into your neck, his huge body over you.

Sweat misted your skin, neck and chest covered in a trail of hickeys, the two of you kept climbing and crashing together for the next hour.

Every moment was perfect, like whatever that was happening before was just a bad dream and nothing was going wrong in the world. Chan wanted this to be the only thing to last a lifetime, you pressed against him, to wake up to your good morning texts, to sneak out with you in secret, to stretch this moment for however long he could take.

From sweet love making to hard fucking that left marks on your skin, you both pretended that this was the perfect life as if nothing is about to shatter you apart forever, reached till you passed out breathless on the bed.

Chan held you in his arms, a tension beginning to rebuild when the quiet room began to fill with the soft; Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

You stirred in his arms, and Chan’s grip instinctively tightened around you, his warmth seeping into your skin as if he could brand this moment into memory. He wanted to say something, anything, to tell you how much you meant to him, how deeply he wished this night could be endless.

“Bang Chan,” an icy voice cut through the tense conference room, the PR’s voice cutting through the silence, “you know why we’re here.”

Chan’s jaw tightened, his heart already beating hard in his chest. He nodded, though his mind clung desperately to the hope that this conversation would turn out differently than he feared.

“It’s come to our attention that you’ve been seen with…” The executive hesitated, the distaste in his tone achingly clear. “A certain individual. You know the implications this has, not only for you but for the group as a whole.”

Chan’s fists clenched under the table. "I know," he admitted, voice low but steady. "But she’s not just anyone. She’s—”

"She’s a liability," another manager cut in, eyes hard as steel. "You’ve worked years for this career, Chan. Years. We’ve all sacrificed too much for it to be jeopardized by… personal entanglements.”

“She’s not a liability,” Chan said, fighting to keep the anger from his voice. “She’s important to me, and I’ve been careful—"

“Careful?” The PR head shook his head. “If you’d been careful, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You were lucky it was Miss Jia who spotted you. Can you imagine the disaster that would have come if it was a fan or paparazzi?”

Chan’s face paled as the PR head's words hit him with the weight of harsh reality. He’d been cautious, always looking over his shoulder, timing each meeting down to the minute. But deep down, he knew they were right. No amount of care could guarantee safety from prying eyes forever.

"We’ve considered all the options, and there is no room for compromise on this. The only way to protect your career is to end this relationship, quietly and immediately.”

A wave of dread settled over him, pressing down like a weight he couldn’t shake off. He swallowed, his throat tight. "So you’re asking me to choose… between her and everything I’ve worked for?"

"No," the executive corrected him coldly. "We’re telling you to choose your career.”

The ultimatum struck like a wrecking ball, leaving him feeling hollow and defeated. He glanced down at the table, the polished surface reflecting back his own tortured expression.

He’d known there was a risk—had tried to prepare himself for something like this. But hearing the words was like a knife twisting in his chest.

“I… I need time to think,” he said, barely recognizing his own voice, rough with emotion.

“There’s no time, Chan,” his manager replied softly, though the finality in his voice was unmistakable. “If you care about her, if you truly want what’s best for her… you’ll understand that this is the only choice.”

A painful clarity began to settle in as he saw the faces around him—faces he had trusted, faces he had worked with for years. And there, hidden behind their demands and their concern for the group, was an unforgiving reality.

Slowly, he nodded, his face etched with an unimaginable kind of pain.

“Fine. I’ll… I’ll end it.”

But his voice caught in his throat, the weight of goodbye pressing down on him like an anchor.

You sensed his struggle, you lifted your head to look at him. In the dim light, you could see the tears glistening in his eyes, barely held back. Your heart clenched, a sharp pang of pain blooming inside your chest as you realized the inevitable was catching up to you both.

"Don't look at me like that," you whispered, your voice trembling, but you managed a sad, fragile smile. "It’s going to make it harder.”

Chan let out a shaky breath, his fingers reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingering against your cheek. “I don’t want to make it harder,” he replied softly. “But I… I don’t know how to let you go. I can't let you go.”

“Then don’t,” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “Just...” You sighed heavily.

You took his hand, holding it against your cheek, feeling the warmth of his palm, the calluses that spoke of years of dedication, of sacrifice, qualities that had once made you admire him and had now become the reason he couldn’t stay.

The irony was cruel.

“You know it’s not that simple. If I could…” His voice broke, and he took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. “If I could choose anyone, anything, I’d choose you, every time.”

“I know…” your voice trailed off. You smiled, your chin wobbling as you looked at him with those for one last moment. Time has come. You have to leave.

Regret and guilt splashed across Chan’s face as he realised your expression, you reluctantly pulled away from him and started changing into your clothes.

The warmth he’d given you faded instantly, replaced by the icy grip of reality that hung heavy between you. Each movement felt slow, as though you were wading through something thick and unyielding, like your body refused to obey the decision your heart could barely stand.

Chan watched you as you slipped into your clothes, he pushed the blanket over and changed into his shorts, and gripped your wrist as you both made it to the living room.

You turned quickly and looked at his grip then at him, his beautiful woody brown eyes refusing to let the tears fall but they rimmed red, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, the love and pain.

“I’ll be okay,” you said, as much for yourself as for him, though your voice wavered. “Someday, I will be. And so will you.”

His eyes shut tightly, as if the words were a physical blow, and he nodded, though you could see the struggle etched into his features.

“Promise me,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “Promise me you’ll be okay. Even if I’m not there.”

You swallowed back the sob that threatened to escape and nodded, squeezing his hand. “I promise.”

A tear slipped down his cheek, and he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, then your cheeks, then your lips, each one a goodbye of its own. You let him, savouring each moment, each touch, letting it wrap around you like armour, a last memory to keep close when everything else is gone.

“I'm sorry I broke your heart…”

You could have sworn that you heard a genuine crack in your chest the moment those words left his lips. Your hand slapped over your mouth to cover the shattering sob that threatened to consume you.

You looked up at Chan, tears running down your cheeks, smiling painfully, stroking his cheek.

“My heart is yours. Yours to love, yours to keep, yours to break.”

Chan pulled you hard into his embrace, finally letting his tears fall, your hands gripping his back, as you both cried your hearts out to each other one last time.

Snippets of your shared moments crowded your mind—all the cute dates, late night facetimes, sweetly secret gifts, Chan introducing you to his members—there was no room to breathe.

“I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…” That's all he could say. That's all he was allowed to say.

Your fingers brushed through his hair as you held him close, memorizing every detail, knowing this would be the last time. The warmth of his skin, the feel of his chest rising and falling against you, the scent that was uniquely his—it all wrapped around you, making it even harder to breathe, harder to let go.

“Chan…” you whispered, voice trembling. “Even if I walk away now, even if you have to let me go… I’ll still love you. I’ll always love you.”

“I’ll love you, too. No matter what.” His voice broke again, barely holding back another wave of grief. “In some other life… maybe we could’ve had forever.”

There was a universe somewhere, you believed, where you and Chan got to share all the dreams you whispered to each other late at night, where you didn’t have to be a secret, where his love didn’t have to be a risk.

But not here. Not now.

You softly pulled him and leaned up, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, feeling the final feel of his skin against your lips. “Goodbye, Chan...” you whispered, the words catching in your throat.

He closed his eyes, as if it would help make it easier, but his hand lingered in yours a moment longer.

“Goodbye, my love…” he breathed, his voice no more than a broken whisper.

With every ounce of strength you had left, you let go, turning and walking out of the apartment. The sound of the door clicking shut behind you echoed like a death sentence, filling the silence with finality.

Each step you took away from him felt heavier, as though pieces of your heart were left scattered on the floor behind you. You tried your hardest not to look back, knowing that if you did, it would only pour salt to the already deep wound.

Inside, Chan impulsively grabbed the vase that was sitting on his coffee table throwing it at the wall, which shattered in a powerful crash that felt like a gunshot and collapsed back onto the couch, head falling between his hands as he let the grief he’d been holding back flood over him again.

The empty apartment was now as cold and hollow as he felt, each memory of you hanging in the air like ghosts he could never escape. And as he sat there, drowning in the silence, he could almost still feel the warmth of your embrace, the lingering traces of your touch that would fade too soon.

All that remained now were echoes—the echo of your voice, your laughter, all slipping through his fingers like sand.

And he knew, no matter what, he’d always carry this ache with him, a part of his heart forever held by someone he was never meant to keep.

Some goodbyes leave scars, not because love wasn't enough, but because it was everything.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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Thank you for reading!

xx,Ivyy

[1864reruns]

ㅤㅤㅤ౨ৎ ace & dog privileges

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ2024 ©1864RERUNS

includingㅤ━ㅤportgas d. ace

tag(s)&warning(s). drabble, fem/afab! reader, established relationship, creep, reader has BOOBS, i'm sorry flat chesters, this ain't for you, crack treated so seriously, this is not nearly as poetic as my other drabbles sorry, pervert! ace

from vyon. nasty dog but he's tamed so it's okay! 🎀 THIS IS SO STUPID I'M SORRY LMFAO

he's so focused on you that it takes him a second— his attention never divided when you're in front of him, or, well divided onto other things. ace was doing his best, listening to you and staring at your chest equally; you know that he's looking, you don't mind really. you think you'd be a little suspicious actually if ace's eyes weren't systematically rising up to look at your eyes and then moving down to linger at the curve of your chest through your tank top.

his eyes move up again after he gets his fix, stupid smile on his face, as you continue on with your story. your eyes moved over to the side, peeking over his shoulder but he doesn't make much of it when your eyes moved back to him. then, for listening to you and being such a good boyfriend, he treats himself to looking back down to stare at your chest.

his face falls when he sees that you've closed your jacket around your torso, his jaw slack open and eyes widened in horror. "babe..." he called out, a small whisper as he reached out over the table like you two were mourning over a friend's death or like you'd just told him you've done something horrible and he needed to show you support.

"what?" your eyebrows furrowed together, a hand moving towards his open palms on the table. your other arm is still pulling your jacket together.

you follow his gaze back down to your chest before the realisation hits you— the idiot was whimpering because he couldn’t get a good look at your boobs of all things. you kick him under the table, aggrieved. "there's some guy behind you that i think has been having a staring contest with my tits."

"who the hell—?" ace's eyebrows creaks, his smile twitching as his hands turned down on the table; he straightened up, slowly turning himself around. he has half the mind not to go over there and fuck up this random guy for commiting two grevious crimes against him. count one, staring at tits that should be for his eyes only; count two, forcing you to hide said beautiful chest from his view?

actually. "i'm going over there."

"ace—"

"i'm not living in a world where you have to cover up your beautiful rack 'cause of some fucking creep." he straightens up, you pull on his arm; ace looked down at you, annoyed, and then he turned to look at the guy who'd taken to looking at ace now because of his movement. "fuck you think you lookin' at? get your own fuckin' girl."

"dressed like that, she's our girl."

you let go of ace's arm, raising your hands in surrender. "have fun."

ace grinned, stepping out over the bench. "knew you'd come 'round." he leaned down to press a kiss against your cheek and his hand sneaks a squeeze of your boob, "for good luck." he claimed— then he's running off to 'protect your honor' or maybe stake his claim on your boobs.

"wear whatever you want, babe." ace tells you sometime later, after you both make a quick exit from the scene of the crime. his arm slung over your shoulder, obviously taking advantage of his height to get a bird's eye view of your 'beautiful rack', "ohhhh, that mesh lace shirt that you wear over nothing but your bra is fuckin' gorgeous." he remembered.

he rambles on and on, somehow planning outfits for you in the distant future— all of them are planned around tops that promise a view of your tits but you don't really mind. ace'll be there anyways to protect your honor.

[typicalopposite]

wip wednesday <3

so I have been tagged by quite a few people (thank you all 🫶 @desert--moonchild @bidisasterevankinard @onthewaytosomewhere @lavenderleahy -- got bamboozled by @sunnywithachanceofbi -- @judymarch15 @marvelousbuckley @tailsbeth-writes @cafe-con-letty & @theotherbuckley ... and that's going back a month) over the span of... a time for different things... lol I have not been keeping up with the games I have been tagged in like I use to... its been a messy life! BUT I'm finally catching up by sharing (quite a bit of) not an already established wip... but a new one! you know, now that we are all collectively in our grieving/fix-it era <3 so consider yourselves -- eyes Chrissy -- tagged back!

take me back - tommy amnesia fic

Tommy cracks his eyes open, fully expecting to be met with that damned water stain on his ceiling he keeps meaning to get looked at — when the spot caves in on him he’s going to regret it — but for the past six months his mind has been on… other things. Regardless, this is not the sight he is met with, and he looks up in confusion at the garage ceiling instead. He blinks a few times before realizing that he’s laying on the cold concrete floor. It takes just a moment longer before he is overcome by a splitting headache and his vision blurs. 

“What the fuck…” he groans, forcing himself to sit up. He reaches for his head, unable to pinpoint where exactly the pain is radiating from; he feels it throughout his entire skull... it’s in his eyes, his temples, all the way down into his neck. He’s not even sure what happened. If he passed out; if he tripped… Why was he even in the garage when he was supposed to be getting ready. The room feels like it’s spinning, and he feels waves of nausea wash over him. He doubts he’ll be able to stand up unassisted, so he crawls over to his workout bench and uses it for support. 

He almost crumples back to the floor from the vertigo he gets from rising to his feet, but he holds tight to the pull bar and takes a few deep breaths until it finally subsides. He opens his eyes again, relieved his vision has cleared, and tries to take a step. His legs are wobbly but he manages to remain stable and upright as he crosses the garage and walks back into his house. 

That’s when he realizes it’s already getting dark. Shit. He was supposed to be getting ready! He goes for his phone but it’s not in his pocket, so he slowly makes his way to his room, except it’s not on the charger either— 

And his bed spread is different… 

His bed spread is—

Tommy squeezes his eyes shut as the headache continues to get worse. “Fuuuck…” he drawls out, once again reaching for his head. He needs to get medicine, to find his phone, and to get out the door or he is going to be late. He can’t be late tonight. Tonight is special.

Another deep breath and he takes another step, towards the bathroom this time. He pulls the medicine cabinet door open, eyes going to the middle shelf where he keeps his ibuprofen… and finds a prescription— two prescriptions actually. He stares at the little orange bottles, both made out to him… one is acetaminophen-- and since he doesn’t have time to figure out why they are there-- he ignores the second and just takes the prescribed dose of the pain medicine and recloses the door. 

All he has to do now is to find his damn phone. 

It’s not in the kitchen, or on the coffee table, or out in his truck, or buried in the couch cushions… The last place he goes is back into the garage; lo and behold it’s there. The problem? It’s shattered. How it got shattered he doesn’t know. Possibly from his fall. 

He tries the side button and the screen lights up. It’s five thirty; he needs to go. He tries to carefully input his passcode: 5724. It doesn’t work. He tries it again. Still nothing. One more time and then another… he assumes the problem is the broken screen, but the phone disables for one minute and he doesn't have time to keep trying. Oh well, he can just leave now, and be there a little early. It’s not like it actually matters if he’s early, anyway. 

He goes back into the bathroom, looks at himself in the mirror— reels at the images looking back because, damn. His eyes are bloodshot with dark circles and his face is puffy and drained of all color as if he’s been crying. Has he been crying? He pushes the thought aside and takes out his eye drops, dropping a couple into each eye and wincing from the pain tilting his head back causes. The medicine will kick in soon, the headache will subside. He will be early… but when is extra time with his boyfriend a bad thing?

*

He parks and climbs out of his truck, the remnants of his headache finally starting to fade away. He takes the stairs two at a time once he’s inside the building, getting that giddy little pep in his step he always gets the moment he reaches Evan’s floor. He strides down the hallway, feeling light on his feet— like he’s floating on air. He reaches the door, lifts his hand and raps against the wood… once, twice, and three times. 

There’s a quiet commotion from inside, accompanied by the sounds of voices— plural, so someone else is here. Tommy tries to think about whether Evan said he had any plans prior to their date… he can’t remember. It doesn’t matter. He bounces on the balls of his feet, feeling his heart pick up in speed as footsteps get closer to the door. The lock turns, the knob twists and the door opens. 

Tommy can feel the tug of his smile spreading high up onto his cheeks. “Hey—”

“Uhm… Hi?” A voice that’s not Evan’s replies— Tommy stares at a face that is not Evan’s… A man he doesn’t recognize; dressed in comfortable clothes-- practically sleep clothes-- with tousled hair and a sated look that instantly has Tommy feeling some type of way. He tilts his head to see the number on the door, thinking maybe he came to the wrong apartment. He didn’t, and so he’s left thoroughly confused at who this stranger is and why he looks so… comfortable in his boyfriend’s home. “Tommy, right?” The guy continues. He lets his eyes travel over Tommy, like he’s studying him, keeping a careful and friendly enough smile on his face. 

“Wha- uh, I’m… sorry. Do I know you?” 

“Doubt it. But I have heard plenty about you…” The voice is suave; his tone is flat but not necessarily cold. Who the fuck even is—

“Dylan?” That is Evan’s voice… Tommy peers around this guy— around Dylan to see his boyfriend come bopping off the stairs. “Who is it— oh… T- Tommy?!” Evan’s face blanks, and his arms stall just as he was starting to slip them around this— this— Dylan’s waist. Tommy thinks he might actually be sick. Evan looks just as debauched, in his gray sweatpants and no shirt— sweat glistening over his bare chest leaves very little to be imagined of what the two were up to before he knocked. He finally truly looks at Dylan and the shirt is Evan’s… his oversized faded Nirvana band tee. Tommy has had to quickly slip it on when they have been disturbed time and time before. “What are you doing here?” Evan asks.

A sarcastic laugh bubbles its way out of Tommy and he has to take a step back from the door— from them. “W- What am I doing here?” He asks.  “What am I doing here…” he repeats. His face is starting to flush and there are tears filling his eyes no amount of blinking speed would be able to push away. He dares a look back at Evan. Wants to see if he even looks guilty; does he even look sorry? He just looks shocked, and that pisses Tommy off more. “I can't believe this...” he mutters under his breath and turns on his heels, willing his feet to get him out of this nightmare as fast as possible. 

“Tommy?” 

Ignore him. 

“T- Tommy!”

Ignore him. Forget him.

The steps are easier to get down than up; he is practically jumping the whole way down each flight. He should have known… he should have prepared better… he should have never given him that second chance… Tommy knew this thing with Evan was only going to be temporary— Evan was figuring himself out, and Tommy was more than willing to be the kind, caring, and supportive hand through the journey. But Tommy knew one day he would reach the end, he wouldn’t need the security of Tommy anymore, and Tommy was prepared to bow out gracefully. He just thought they had more time. 

But this…

This hurts so much more than he had anticipated that that would. 

“Tommy…” 

A hand grabs his shoulder and he realizes he has stopped just outside the apartment building. The cool night air is drying out the tears that have already streaked down his face. His chest feels like it’s caving in… and great, his headache is back. He shrugs Evan’s hand off of him, and starts moving towards his truck again. 

“What— Dammit Tommy! Are you seriously going to be this stubborn right now…”

That stops him. He turns and glares at Evan, taking a step towards him with seemingly enough fury Evan stops in his tracks, keeping distance between them. “Stubborn…?” Tommy chokes out. “Are you really calling me stubborn right now?”

“I- I mean… yeah! That’s how you’re acting right now!” Evan crosses his arms, having the audacity to appear angry. “You come to my apartment, had a stare down with my boyfriend, then just stormed off with no explanation!” 

Tommy feels his heart sink— hell it does more than that… it falls all the way to the floor and shatters. “B- Boyfriend…” he repeats. This has to be some kind of a prank. It has to be. “How can you stand there and look so calm about this… You—” You asshole… You lying, manipulative— “Cheater…” 

The look on Evan’s face at that word almost— not fully, but almost— surprises Tommy. So stunned; his eyes bouncing around from Tommy’s, to the ground, to the cars around them, up to the sky… before finally coming back to Tommy’s. “Ch- Cheater? Tommy.. wh- what are you talking about.” Tommy huffs out another sarcastic laugh and turns to angrily storm the rest of the way to his truck, all the while knowing Evan isn’t going to just let him. Maybe there’s even a part of him hoping Evan stops him with a viable explanation, because this… this can't be how it ends— this is going to do more than just crush him… it’s going to annihilate him. “Oh my god…” Evan groans and as Tommy suspected he would, starts after him again. “Tommy! Can you please— just this once— stop running and talk to me?” 

“Talk about what, Evan…” Tommy all but screams and, oddly enough, that seems to stop Evan in his tracks. “What do you want me to say? That I should have seen this coming�� That I should have known it was too good to be true. Or maybe admit that I always knew I wouldn't be your forever, no matter how bad I wanted to be… but I sure as hell didn’t see this—” he gestures frantically at Evan then up at the apartment building. “—being how it ended.” The more he let the words spill out, the more confused Evan looked. “Or should I just come out and address the elephant in the room— the man up in your apartment you’re cheating on your boyfriend with.” 

Evan’s brows pull together, hardening his stare into something Tommy has never been on the receiving end of; it hurts to see, instead of angering him like it probably should. “I don’t know if you’re drunk… or if this is some kind of joke… but it’s not funny— it’s not fair! You— You don’t get to barge back into my life unannounced— today of all days. Then— then you accuse me of— That man up in my apartment is my boyfriend, Tommy… he has been for eight months now.” 

Tommy feels like a bomb was shoved down his throat and detonated. His entire body trembles and goes through after shocks of what Evan said. Partially from the unexpected sting of jealousy at the thought of someone being with Evan longer than he has… but mostly because of the absurdity of it all; does Evan really expect him to buy into the nonsense he’s spewing; claiming he has been in this other relationship for this long— and on their anniversary. Except Evan looks serious. 

Tommy tries to find his voice; he tries to string some words together in his head to say something back. “W- What?” is all he manages to come up with; his voice betrays him, coming out small and broken. 

Evan steps closer to him, cracks clearly forming in the cold and serious look he was just giving Tommy, making way for looks of concern, or confusion… or maybe even of sadness. “Tommy,” he says the name for the upteenth time, and Tommy feels himself flinching at his own name like it assaulted him. “Are you— Are you okay? What’s going on? Why— why are you here?” He steps closer, Tommy steps back. 

Just like that the medicine’s effect dissipates and his headache comes rushing back with a vengeance. Tommy’s vision blurs and he gasps at the return of the pain, now with a spot to single the bulk of it to. He brings his hand up to the back of his head, fingers instantly touching something wet. 

“Will you stop— dammit Tommy, stop running away from me,” Evan continues, almost in front of him now, although his voice sounds muffled and far away. Tommy stops backing up and lets his hand fall down from his head, revealing bright red blood coating his fingers. “Oh my god…” Evan gasps just as a wave of dizziness sways Tommy backwards. Two strong arms grab him, steady him… but don’t exactly hold him, and that hurts as bad as this headache. Evan is so close Tommy wouldn’t have to lean in far to capture his lips… but he can’t. Not like this. Not while everything feels so off and confusing. 

He allows Evan to help him over to his truck, but shies away from his touch the moment he is able to lean on its bed for stability. Evan pulls out his phone and dials 9-1-1. “What are you doing?” Tommy asks when his jaw is grabbed, gently but firmly, and Evan is guiding him to turn his head. He is ignored as Evan talks to the dispatcher, giving the location and a short gist of what happened, before he stops talking abruptly.

“T- Tommy… were— were you in an accident?” 

Tommy can’t help the sarcasm heavy laugh at the ridiculous question. “Don’t you think you would know if I had been,” he says coolly. 

Evan sighs. “He has a pretty big wound on the back of his head,” he tells the dispatcher, and Tommy stares at him in shock. “There are staples but it’s been reopened.” Tommy feels his skin prickling. He feels this strong sense of unease, like the floors about to fall out from under him. “Hey… look at me,” Evan says, resting his hand on Tommy’s shoulder and looking in his eyes, he turns his phone’s flashlight on and scans it over each eye. “His pupils are receptive. Do— Do you know what day it is?” 

Of course that’s a logical question but given everything it is like a stab into his already ripped open chest. “It’s… November 7.” 

“Okay, good. And the year?”

“2024…”

“Okay— wait. Wh- What did you say?” Once again Evan is staring at him confused. “You said it’s 2024?” Tommy breaks his eyes away; Evan is getting that kicked puppy look and he doesn’t get to do that. He doesn’t get to make Tommy feel bad right now. “Tommy…” Evan pries. “You— You said 2024?” 

“Yes Evan, yes! It’s November 7, 2024! It’s our six month anniversary! But I guess that means nothing to—” His voice cracks. He covers his trembling lip with the back of his hand and tries to calm himself down. 

Sirens break through the deafening silence, and an Ambulance turns into the parking lot. Evan flags it over and it comes to a stop behind Tommy’s truck. Thankfully it’s not the 118, and Tommy doesn’t recognize the paramedics that get out to help him. They check over the apparent wound on the back of his head, and start asking him questions. Questions he mostly ignores because he is focused on Evan talking to the one of them off to the side. “He— he thinks it’s 2024…” he whispers but Tommy catches it anyway. 

“What do you mean ‘I think’,” he asks past the mountain of questions the paramedic accessing him is still piling on. Evan’s mouth clamps shut and he looks over at Tommy. “You said I think it’s 2024… what the hell does that mean Evan.” 

“I- I don’t— uhm…” Evan looks helplessly at the paramedics, avoiding looking at Tommy. 

“Sir, please, just calm down. Take a deep breath. We can get everything figured out at the hospital.”

“To hell with that,” Tommy snaps— which surprises even himself, because he is usually compliant with first responders, being that he is one. “I want everything figured out now. What do you mean?” 

“Tommy…” Evan begins, takes a deep breath and sighs it out. “It’s 2025.” 

“What?”

“It— It’s 2025,” Evan reiterates.

~~~~~~~~

Sooooo 😀 trying to actually get this fix rolling because I am not going to post the whole first chapter until it’s done! Fingers crossed I don’t lose inspiration before then 🤞🏼🤞🏼🤞🏼

Throwing out a couple more tags just incase you wanna share something fixing this mess thrown on our poor sad boys or just to heal yourself, or something entirely new! 🫶

@nine-one-wanton @herrmannhalsteadproduction @30somethingautisticteacher @bangpop91 @racerchix21 @rdng1230

@somethingaboutfirefly @kinardsevan @bucksxkinard @unhingedangstaddict and anyone else who wants to share their stuff or just follow along 🫶