#and i can’t help but feel like i’m on the outside looking in

[unequivocallyreid]

Why Didn’t You Tell Me?

it has been SO long... i was suffering from serious writers block but it think i'm finally out of it :)

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: Spencer Reid used to be your best friend, but things changed. How long can you pretend that you don't love him before it ruins you?

warnings: angst! (with a happy ending), smut (unprotected piv), character loss, mention of Maeve, very sad Spencer, mental health struggles, light choking, fighting, slight praise kink

wc: 8.8k 🤗

i’m very proud of this one! i hope you love it!

Every morning when you wake up, you feel a familiar and creeping sort of dread in the pit of your stomach.

Don’t get the wrong idea; you love your job. You love helping people and stopping horrible people from ruining any more lives, but the creeping feeling and desire to get out is always in the corner of your mind. Anyone working in this field would tell you that. There’s no absolute separation between you and the victims and their families. You take all of them home with you, and you just have to learn how to deal with that and not let it eat at you.

It doesn’t help that it’s an isolating job as well. The last time you were in a serious relationship was in college. Now, every date you have ends in disappointment. Not only do you lack interest in most of the men and women, but it couldn’t go anywhere even if you did. 75% of your time is spent in the office, on a jet, or hundreds of miles away from your home.

All of this contributes to the feeling, but the worst part of your job is Dr. Spencer Reid.

He’s secretive and dismissive and just about the most attractive person you’d ever seen. You honestly don’t know what is worse: his constant physical presence in your life or the fact that you can’t stop thinking about him no matter what you do. You’ve tried to get over it; you’ve buried yourself in work, lamented to your friends, and gone out on dates (all with guys that looked vaguely similar), but nothing has worked. All his worst traits grate your nerves and light you up at the same time.

The worst part of it all is that it wasn’t always like this. When you first joined the BAU nearly two years ago, you and Spencer got along well. You were friends, he talked to you about his life, he understood you, and you really severely fell for him. He became your best friend.

Everything changed around six months ago. Spencer started to develop migraines, and as those developed, he started distancing himself from you. He became snippy and closed off, he started hiding things from you, and he stopped talking to you about life outside of Quantico. It was like overnight, you became nothing to him, and you really didn’t understand. Everyone else on the team got the same old Spencer, but you went from his right-hand man to someone he only spoke to when it was necessary.

Maybe he didn’t deserve to be vilified. You know, realistically, he can and should be able to decide who he wants to be close to, but working with a man who unknowingly broke your heart was close to the hardest thing you’d ever done. So, you decided hating him was easier. The real emotions you feel toward him sit somewhere inside you, but they have been covered by manufactured distaste. Addressing the actual feeling would hurt too bad, so you pretend to hate the things you used to love.

Nothing, however, could have prepared you for the last case you worked on: helping Spencer save a girl he met about six months ago, a girl he loved. You tried to stay collected, you said nothing when Spencer assisted when he shouldn’t have, and goddamn, did you do everything in your power to find that girl. Maeve. She was perfect for Spencer, and you saw that immediately. Everyone did. The sight of him sobbing in front of her body is one that will never leave your mind.

Now, two weeks later, no one has heard from Reid. The only indication that he hasn’t abandoned his life altogether is the absence of the gift baskets on his doorstep that Pen leaves daily.

Nearly everyone has been to his apartment, but they are met with a closed door and have yet to receive a response. Everyone but you.

Penelope is the first to bring up your lack of appearance at the end of a long day of paperwork.

“Y/n, please, you just have to try. No one is getting anything from him.”

“I really don’t think my presence would do any good,” you pause for a moment, trying to collect the thoughts running through your head like a freight train. “Me and him haven’t been close in a long time, Pen.”

Before you can continue, she cuts in, “Everyone has tried, Y/n. Hell, I’ve even considered tracking down Gideon, and I really, really do not want to do that.”

She pauses for a moment before looking up at you with a pout on her face, “Please, Y/n, for me. I can’t bear the thought of him in there all alone, just wasting away in grief.”

For someone who claims not to be a profiler, Penelope knew exactly what to say to get you to agree. She’s the only person in your life who you told about how you felt, though you’re sure everyone else (aside from Spencer) knew: you’re shit at keeping secrets.

“Okay, okay, I’ll try.”

She nearly bursts with excitement, “Thank God-“

You cut her off before she can finish, “But I’m telling you, I’m not the person he wants to hear from right now. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Yes, yes. I just want him to know we all want him to be okay.”

Before you can hurry out of the office to follow Pen’s instructions, she stops you and hands you a basket full of assorted snacks and fruits.

“Make sure he eats!”

The walk up to Spencer’s apartment is a hard one to take. The smell of his building hits you as soon as you step into the lobby. From there, everything rushes back at once. Memories of nights you spent watching reruns of Doctor Who or listening to him prattle off about whatever he last read assault you with every step. As you slowly make your way up, you start to question why you agreed to do this in the first place.

You feel a lot toward Reid. More than you should and less than you could. But all that care and feelings that are so close to love aren’t enough to make you forget why you’ve been trying to hate him for so long. He deserted you without an explanation and cut you off without a warning. You spent weeks (three months) crying over him like a love-struck teen. So, as much as you want to hold him and comfort him, you know it’ll hurt you to do so. Penelope sent you, with the whole team’s approval, you’re sure, to try to patch up a broken heart he got loving someone else. There’s a sickness in your gut, but it’s not enough to stop you from rapping your knuckles against his door.

“Spencer? It’s Y/n.”

There’s no response.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear from me right now, but I want to make sure you’re alright. Can you tell me you’re alright?”

Again, nothing.

You know he’s there. Despite your lack of communication, you know Spencer well enough to know that he would never leave his life behind entirely. That being said, your next few attempts at garnering a response are unsuccessful.

You decide to try one final time before just leaving the basket alone on his doorstep and texting Pen it was a bust.

“There’s a lot I don’t know about you now, and I won’t pretend to know what you’re feeling.”

You don’t exactly know where this is headed, but you continue on regardless.

“I know you’re in there, and I know you can hear me, and I know you’re hurting. You shouldn’t- I don’t want you to be alone right now, Spence. You can either unlock your door, or I can pick it, but I’m coming in one way or the other. You know I will.”

You wouldn’t, actually. It’s a last-ditch effort, and it’s met with the same silence you’ve heard on the other side for the past ten minutes. You’re about to turn to head back down the stairs when you hear the very faint sound of a deadbolt turning.

There’s no other sound or movement, and for a moment, you think you might’ve imagined the sound, but you try the handle anyway. It turns, and the door slides open. You take a step in.

“Spencer,” you call out to him.

You don’t see him at first in the mess of his apartment, but when you do, you feel a crack form in your heart.

Beyond the clutter of his entryway, you see his back on the couch. His frame looks smaller than you’ve ever seen it, and you can see his legs curled into his chest. You set down the gift basket by a collection of others on the entry table and walk over to him. Slowly, like you’re trying not to spook a lost dog, you creep in front of him.

His head is down, and his gaze stays trained on his knees.

You reach out your hand and lay it over his. He flinches but doesn’t pull away.

“Spence, I’m so glad you opened the door.”

You didn’t plan out what you would say, but ‘sorry’ feels redundant and useless.

You go on, “I’m here. I- I don’t know what to do or say, and I’m sorry that I don’t. I can get someone else for you. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

You wait for him to say he wants Penelope or JJ, but it doesn’t come. Nothing comes. You start to move to get up, figuring you could clean up a bit and try to make him something to eat, then go, but he grasps your arm before you can.

He looks up at you, and his eyes hit you right in the gut. They’re bloodshot and sunken but still beautiful.

“Stay. Please. I just- I need to know I’m not dreaming. I keep thinking I’m dreaming.”

His voice is croaky from disuse and breaks at the end, but it’s so heartbreakingly earnest that you feel your breath catch. You move from your crouch and sit beside him on the couch; your hand is still in his.

You stay like that for a long time. His breathing is shakey and uneven, and every so often, his body shakes with what you can only assume are sobs. You stay pressed to his side the whole time, thumb rubbing back and forth over his hand.

Eventually, you speak again, “I’m gonna get you some food, Spence. You should eat.”

He says nothing back, but he does loosen his grip. You push yourself up from the coach with a promise you’ll be as fast as possible.

His kitchen is nearly empty, and you hope he’s been eating from the baskets. Still, you find enough to make noodles and butter, and you figure the carbs should help his energy some.

You return with the bowl. Spencer hasn’t moved, but his head follows you as you walk back over to him.

“It’s not fine dining.”

He studied you for a second, and you catch a glimpse of the old him in his eye.

“You did the same thing when I was sick on a case a year ago.”

You smile at his recollection.

“It helped you then.”

The rest of the night is spent mostly in silence. Occasionally, you tell him something to try to remind him that you’re there and that you won’t leave as long as he wants you there. Eventually, you get up from the couch again.

“Spencer, it’s too late to still be awake.”

He nods and still says nothing, but he is far more receptive than before. You reach your hand out to him to help him up from the couch, and he takes it.

He leads you to his room at a slow pace. His head stays down as you both take a seat on his bed, hands still interlocked. Being in his bedroom is odd for you. You’ve been to his apartment quite a few times before he disappeared from your life, but you never breached this space. It’s all very him. Almost surprisingly cozy, with books scattered around nearly everywhere there’s space.

You take in the moment for a beat before saying, “I’m gonna head home, Spencer, but please call me if you need anything at all. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

This makes his head snap up, and his eyes lock with yours.

“Please stay.”

That’s all he says, but every part of him is pleading with you. It’s not a good idea, and you know it. You’re the only person he’s seen in days, you aren’t close anymore, and you don’t particularly want to sleep on a couch tonight.

“Spencer, I don’t want to sleep in your living room tonight. I’ll come back.”

He pauses for a moment, “You can stay here with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

Your heart cracks again. There was a time when this was all you wanted. It’s still, deep down, all you want, just not like this. You know he doesn’t really want you there and he’s not himself. But you aren’t strong enough to say no, so you don’t.

He gets you clothes to wear, and you change in his bathroom. You come out and find him in his bed, laying with his back to you. You have no fucking idea what you’re doing, but you get into bed next to him anyways. There are a thousand thoughts racing through your head, but the prevailing one is how badly you want to touch him, to hold him, to make him forget, just for the night. You stay still, though, confined to the edge of the bed and start to count to drown out the noise.

Though, you can’t drown out his voice, saying, “Can- Could you hold me? I think that everything feels better when you touch me.”

Another crack. By the end of this, you know Spencer Reid is going to break your heart all over again.

~

When you wake up the next morning, Spencer is still asleep. You sneak out of his room and call Hotch. When he answers, you tell him Spencer has let you in, and you ask for time off to try to help. You can tell from his voice that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but he grants you it anyway.

Much of your day is spent like the night before. You stay next to Spencer, and you cook for him after leaving to pick up clothes and groceries. Then, you get him to shower and wash his hair. He sleeps with his head in your lap, and you feel like a fucking idiot at first, but as long as it’s helping him in some way, you let it happen.

That’s the thing: you don’t really know how to help him. You know he isn’t the type to talk about something until he is entirely ready, so all you can do is add something domestic and bright to his life while he grieves. It’s all you can think about in the moments of silence. Hell, you even read to him to try and get your mind off of it, but it barely helps.

The night is the same. You change in different rooms and slip into his bed at different times. You feel dirty for imagining what it would be like if the circumstances were different: if he wanted you like you have wanted him for the past two years. You hold him against you, and you pray for sign that you should be there.

The sign comes the following morning when Derek calls you.

“Y/n…”

You can hear his teasing tone over the phone.

“Hi, Derek.”

“What are you doing, mamas?”

You sigh, “What do you mean?”

You’re playing coy. You know he’s wondering why you’re at Spencer’s house, picking up the pieces, but you won’t be the one to bring it up.

“Why’d you ask Hotch for the week off, Y/n?”

Another sigh, “You know why, Derek. I just, I want to help him.”

“I know you do, Y/n, I know.”

He pauses for a moment, and you let the moment fill with silence.

“I know you care about him. We all care about him. But who is taking care of you?”

“I am. I can take care of him, and I can take care of me.”

“I know you can, but I don’t want you to get hurt, Y/n. Don’t let this be something that hurts you.”

“It won’t. I- You have to- Fuck, I’ll be fine. He’s not fine. I don’t care about me or any feelings that may get hurt right now. I’ll be fine.”

There’s another bear of silence, “Okay, Y/n. Just know you’re allowed to tap out.”

You try to think of anything else to say, but nothing comes, so you say your goodbyes.

You won’t need to tap out. You can take care of him and be good to him and ignore the other feelings you have. You can be good.

The call does make you think it’s time to push, to try harder, to help him get better. So, you approach him that day before bed, before he tucks himself into your arms and falls into a fretful sleep.

“Spencer?”

He takes a moment and then responds, “Yes?”

“You have to talk about it. I think that you need to talk about it. It doesn’t have to be to me but to someone.”

He’s quiet for a long time, and your breath is caught in your throat, waiting for him to say anything.

“I- I don’t want to,” his voice cracks while he says it.

“Spence, you can’t come back if you don’t. You can’t move forward if you don’t.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

A ringing echos in your ears.

“You don’t mean that. She- she would want you to keep going.”

Wrong thing to say.

“You don’t know anything about what she would want.”

He’s seething now, below the surface, but smoke has started to plume from his ears. Still, you don’t stop.

“Spencer, everyone knows that. No one would want you to put your life on hold.”

He speaks his next line through his teeth, “You don’t know anything, Y/n.”

You’ve never heard him sound so angry.

“Spencer-“

“No, just stop. You don’t know her. You don’t know me half as well as you think you do. You don’t know anything. I don’t even know why you’re here. I don’t want you here. You can't be what I need.”

The ringing in your ears is louder.

“Spencer, please. Just-“

“No!” His voice is raised now, bordering on a yell, “I don’t want you here. I want you out, Y/n.”

This has to be what shell shock feels like. The ringing, the tingle in your limbs, and the heat in your face. You don’t know how you are moving, but you are.

His voice is echoing in your head, or maybe he’s still talking, but you can’t tell either way. The only thing you can focus on is how Spencer sounded like he hates you and that Morgan was right about the hurt.

~

You spend the next day trying desperately to shut down the noise in your head. It doesn’t work. The day after is the same. And the days following that. You ignore calls when they come, you ignore the texts, but you can’t stop looking at your phone for a message from the man who fills your thoughts.

Spencer doesn’t call, obviously, and you have to sit with a pit in your stomach while you beg yourself to just get the fuck over it. Two years of reckoning with the severity of your love, months of watching him live happily without you, and it’s the three days you spent trying to help him feel incrementally better that floor you.

You feel like a dumb teenage girl with so much love and nothing to do with it. On top of everything, you feel selfish. Spencer lost the love of his life forever, and you’re nursing the worst heartbreak of your life because a boy will never want you and never has. Still, you send out prayers for him over and over. You hope you’ll see him in the BAU again, even if his eyes glaze over you. Hell, even if they look at you with hate the way they did two days ago. You just want him to function. You want him to be good and eventually be happy. You try to go to bed with soothing thoughts, but you end up with a mantra of his name.

You wake to your alarm and dress for work before you realize you aren’t actually supposed to go back yet. You never set a date to return. You wanted to be open as long as Spencer needed you. You’re supposed to be with him. You’re supposed to be helping and not tapping out. But you aren’t.

You have no reason not to return to the bullpen, so you do. You walk in and feel eyes on you. You wait for Morgan to call out to you, but he doesn’t, so you follow the feeling.

Your breath catches in your throat; it’s Spencer. He’s sitting at his desk, paperwork spread out, and he doesn’t look away from your gaze; he just holds it. His face is unreadable, and yours is definitely not, so you look away first. You don’t look up again until you reach Hotch’s office. You knock and hear him call out to come in.

“I’m back if that’s okay.”

He looks up at you, and you want to cry. You know he can read you. He has always been the best at it.

“Are you okay with that, Y/l/n?”

You lock eyes with him, “Yes, sir.”

It’s no use; he knows your tells and you aren’t being honest.

“Alright, conference room in five.”

Whatever he sees in your face, he ignores and takes you at your word, but there’s a warning in his tone. He knows when to let things go and when to push. More than that, though, he knows you’d never let something like this affect your work.

~

The first case back is in Maryland, and the one after is in Austin, and the next is in Philadelphia with The Replicator. The job takes you all over the country, and the cases blend together. You don’t speak to Spencer through all of it. You’re never partnered, never work together, you sit on opposite ends of the jet. You don’t even speak at Strauss’ funeral. It’s radio silent, and everyone notices it, but no one brings it up.

In that time, you allow yourself to slip away slightly. You don’t go out with the team, you see Pen at nearly half frequency, and basically, the only time you speak is on cases. It’s stupid and melodramatic, but you call it healing. Derek tries to reason with you, JJ sticks to you a bit more than usual, and Penelope calls you virtually whenever she can, but their efforts are mostly in vain. This is your way of protecting yourself. You feel like you have to isolate in order to improve, and you know, given time, you will come back to yourself.

Penelope’s insistence that you go to her Day of the Dead celebration breaks your distance.

“Y/n, please come. I know you aren’t going out, but you have to. I know you have people to honor, and I need you there.”

You sigh, “Whose going, Pen?”

“The team, which you are a part of, so you must be there.”

“I don’t think I can do that. I promise you I will celebrate with you. I’ll help you set up, just please don’t make me go.”

Penelope pauses, but the glint in her eye keys you into the fact that she is not interested in giving up.

“We miss you, Y/n. Everyone loves you and misses you. You’ve been living this stupid, isolated life, and it’s time for you to come back. You are not this person. I refuse to believe it. You’re coming, and that’s final.”

Maybe you don’t have the energy to argue, or maybe you know she’s right, but you agree to go.

~

The thought of seeing him makes your heart race, and the clock you keep glancing at makes it worse. Just a few more hours before you're trapped in a confined space (Pen’s beautiful home) with a man you haven’t spoken to in weeks.

You busy yourself with preparing. Lights are hung, food is made, and you make a trip to the store while Pen sets up her remembrance table. When everything is said and done, you can’t help but feel this is the most beautiful thing you’ve been a part of in a long time.

The first knock comes at 7:30 exactly, and it’s Hotch and Rossi. They are followed closely by Blake, then Derek and JJ. By 7:00, the atmosphere is light and loving, and you feel a bit of your anxiety let up as the minutes go by without Reid. But, eventually, the knock comes, of course it does, and you move into a corner as Spencer walks in. You feel a shift in energy, though you doubt it’s palpable for anyone else. Rossi is the first to make his way over to you, and his presence comforts you nearly immediately.

“How you doing, kid?” His voice is soft like he’s speaking to a scared rabbit.

“I’m better,” you say, and it’s about as honest as you can get. As much as you’d like to think he knows nothing about what’s gone on, you’re smarter than that. He’s the best profiler on the team, and he’s always known when someone was off with you. Even so, you are better than you were, even if you aren’t quite good, and you know he believes you.

There’s some idle conversation between you before he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not tonight. I don’t know when, but I will. Eventually, I will.”

It’s good enough for him, and you move on easily, which surprises you.

Right before Pen gathers you all to present your photos, he says, “Sometimes we think we’ve seen the whole picture, but we miss a big part. People do things because they don’t want to be hurt, but those things hurt them more. Just, be open.”

You don’t quite understand what he means, but you hope you will.

Penelope presents the first picture, which shows her parents. JJ honors her sister, Derek, his dad, Hotch Haley, and Rossi, Hernandez; then it’s your turn. You place down a photo of your best friend. You hadn’t talked much about her, but you think of her daily. She passed a few years before you joined the BAU.

“I was lucky to have someone that hurt that much to lose.”

That’s all you say, but it’s enough for you, and it would be enough for her.

Spencer is last. He places down a picture of Tesla and a picture of Maeve. Your heart is heavy for everyone.

The night dwindles from there. Hotch and Rossi say their goodbyes, and Rossi gives you a knowing look as he leaves. You just smile. You stay for a few minutes after, but eventually, you move to leave as well.

You make it down Garcia’s porch before you feel a hand grab your arm. You turn, and it’s Spencer’s face you see.

“Would you- Do you think you could come over? Do you think we could talk?”

~

The feeling you have walking up to Spencer's apartment is similar to what you felt the last time. You’re incredibly anxious, but at least you know you’ll be let in this time.

The drive over was silent. Spencer had taken the metro to Penelope’s, so he rode with you. It wasn’t necessarily awkward. There was just an understanding that the car wasn’t the place to begin your conversation.

Now, as Spencer unlocked his door, it’s one of those rare moments you felt starved for words, and you know it’s because you’re scared you’ll say the wrong thing and face the same reaction that you did the last time you were in his home.

He leads you to his living room and motions for you to sit, and you do. The two of you are on opposite ends of his couch while you wait for him to say something.

His first words are airy and light, “Thank you for letting me talk to you.”

You look at him but remain silent, waiting for him to go on. All you can think about is why he wants to speak to you at all. The last time you spoke, he made it incredibly clear he did not want you in his life or around him at all.

Before you can think about it more and let your anger and sadness build, he speaks again, “I feel really stupid right now. I kind of feel stupid whenever I’m around you recently.”

He pauses momentarily before going on, “I’m so, so sorry, Y/n. About the last time we spoke. I’ve been thinking about it pretty constantly for the past few weeks.”

You open your mouth, unsure of what exactly to say, but you can’t get there before he’s off again.

“I’m not sure how to talk to you anymore. I don’t think I’ve known how to for a long time. I just, I need you to know how sorry I am for speaking to you like that.”

He takes a shakey breath but keeps going, “That wasn’t me, and that isn’t how I feel. I’m just unbelievably sorry, Y/n.”

He stops there, and you work to collect your thoughts.

“I know. A part of me knows, at least, that you didn’t mean it. I just wanted to be there for you, and hearing that made me- I just- I think it made me hate myself for wanting to be there.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m unbelievably sorry.”

“You didn’t talk to me for months, Spencer. I just don’t understand. I don’t understand why you let me in in the first place. I thought you hated me.”

He’s silent for a long minute.

“I never hated you, Y/n. I just stopped knowing how to act around you, and then I met Maeve. I fell so deep into it that I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. I- And I just started to feel like you didn’t want me to speak to you, so I didn’t. But, when you came here, after everything, I guess I just felt like you were the only person who would get it. You never, no one on the team ever treated me or talked to me how you did. I just wanted that.”

Tears had begun to well in your eyes now. A part of you gets what he means, at least about letting you in, but the other part is so confused as to why he stopped being comfortable around you.

“I don’t understand, Spencer. Why did you stop knowing how to be around me?”

There’s desperation in your voice that makes you sound like a stranger to yourself. Maybe you’re a stranger to everyone right now.

“I uh, I don’t really know.”

“That's not fair, Spence.”

You’re crying now. Just a little bit, but you can feel the wetness on your cheeks. You can see that you are by the look on his face. He looks broken, and you know it's a reflection of your own image.

You wipe your face, “Thank you for apologizing, Spencer. I just, there are parts of this all that I don’t understand, and if you can't explain them to me, I don’t think I ever will.”

“Y/n-,” he calls out your name like a prayer.

“It’s okay, Spence. You don’t have to say anything more. We talked, and things will go back to how they were eventually.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

You smile sadly as you get up to leave.

“I am, too, for what it's worth. For whatever I did to make things change in the first place.”

You leave it at that, and it takes everything in you not to look back as you leave his apartment.

~

Things do get easier after that. Not completely. You still love him, and it hurts, but it helps to know he doesn’t hate you. He talks to you some, cordial things, and you do the same. You're sure your teammates still sense something is off, but this works for you. Right now, it works. Getting over him, not loving him anymore, is going to take work, but eventually, you know that you won’t hurt anymore.

Shortly after you and him talked, you started going back out with your friends. Spencer joined periodically, but that was normal. Bars were never really his scene.

Tonight, everyone gathers at your local pub. Your last case was particularly grueling, and you all need a way to blow off some steam. It's fun, and you feel good, even with Spencer sitting across from you. You feel proud of yourself for getting to this point.

JJ and Penelope feed you drinks to try and get you to dance, and you let them. Tonight feels as good of a night as any to ‘get back out there’ as Pen says. So, you do. You dance with them, and you ward off the other cops and agents around you who try to pull you away from your group. You aren’t interested in that. Right now, you're just having an appropriate amount of fun for a woman 15 feet from her boss.

Time goes by quickly, and by the time you get back to the table, you, Derek, Penelope, and JJ remain. He tells you that Hotch, Rossi, Reid, and Alex left a few minutes before. The conversation between you flows for a while, up until the drinks loosen Penelope up enough to bring up what you were pretty sure the team designated a no-no topic.

“Y/n, you have to talk about it.”

You’re still laughing as something Derek said when you reply, “What?”

“You know what. You and Boy-Genius. What on Earth happened? You went from ice-cold to semi-friendly. None of us saw it coming.”

“Babygirl-,” Derek tries to stop her, but you cut him off.

“No, it’s okay. I have to talk about it at some point, and I think right now is the only time I’ll be tipsy enough to let you get it out of me.”

You're still laughing slightly, but the pit that's lived in your stomach for the past few months starts to rear its head.

“After your Day of the Dead party, he asked to talk to me. I went to his place, and he apologized. I don’t really understand what he said or what he meant, but I can’t be sad about him forever.”

Pen perks up a bit at that, “I knew that party would bring good things!”

You giggle a bit at her outburst, but then JJ asks, “What did he say?”

The faces around you all tune in at that. You know they don’t see this as gossip. They care about you both too much to trivialize it like that.

“He just said that he stopped knowing how to act around me, and he didn’t know why, but then he met Maeve, and I guess it didn’t matter so much after that. He was my best friend, and then he was nothing.”

JJ shares a glance with Derek and then speaks, “Oh, Y/n.”

“What?”

After a beat, Derek says, “He didn’t just not know how to act around you.”

Now you're confused, “What do you mean? I talked to him, that's what he said. He didn’t know why. I mean, he knows everything and didn’t know why he didn’t want to be around me anymore. How fucking stupid is that.”

You laugh again, but it does come off as genuine in the slightest.

“Y/n, he probably doesn’t really know why. At least not fully. For someone as smart as he is, the kid can be really stupid.”

“Stop being cryptic.”

Derek sighs but goes on, “Pretty girl, pretty boy was in love with you. Probably still is. He just didn’t think you’d ever feel the same.”

“No. That's not true.”

You look at the others around you, but their faces are serious.

“He loved Maeve. He loves Maeve. That, that doesn’t make any sense.”

It's JJ’s turn to talk now.

“He definitely did love Maeve, no one is denying that, but we all saw how he was around you. His whole relationship with her was safe. He couldn’t be hurt by her rejection every day because he had no way of seeing her. With you, he could.”

Your mind is moving a mile a minute, “Did he tell you guys this?”

Penelope puts her hand over yours and says, “He didn’t have to, love. We all say the way he looked at you and acted around you. The way he talked about you. That boy was head over heels.”

“Guys, I appreciate whatever you’re trying to do, but this isn’t real. Spencer doesn’t- this is not real.”

“Y/n, pause. Think about the way he acted around you, the things he said. Think about how Reid is.”

You hear what Derek said, but it all sounds faint like someone stuffed your ears with cotton while you weren't paying attention. All you can focus on are the different scenes running through your head, the scenes of your life with Spencer in it. How he memorized your coffee order and brought it for you every day, how he never shied away from your touch despite his aversion to contact, how he consistently went out of his way to protect you on the field. At his house after everything, the way he clung to you and wanted to be held. How he said in his own words, “You can't be what I need”; not “you aren’t,” but “you can’t.”

Your whole world is crashing down in this bar, and you can’t do anything to stop it.

“Y/n?”

JJ’s voice snaps you out of your spiral.

“Just go talk to him.”

You nod mutely, and you get up.

~

Everything in the last ten months of your life has led you to the exact spot you were when everything blew up in the first place: Spencer’s door.

This time, you aren't too worried about him not letting you in. If anything, it's the opposite. Him opening this door could open a hundred others, and you don’t quite know if you are ready for any of them. You sit there and sit there and sit there, trying to work up the courage to knock, though you aren’t sure it's there to begin with. Right as you're about to walk away and decide you’ll come back another day, his door swings open.

“Y/n?”

His face is lit up with shock, and you notice his hand that is not on the door is holding his pistol.

“What are you doing here?”

You don’t answer, “Why did you open the door?”

He sets his piece down on the entry table before responding, “I heard footsteps in the hall and saw they stopped here. I was anxious. 50.3% of home invasions happen between 8:00 pm and 7:00 am.” He cuts himself off there, “Y/n, why are you here?”

You didn’t pay attention to anything he said. All you could think about was the way his lips were moving and the way his eyes locked onto yours as he talked.

“Do you love me?”

That is not what you wanted to say.

His lips fall open as he takes in a sharp breath, “What?”

“Or I guess did you love me? Before everything? Because Derek and JJ and Pen, they all said that you loved me, and now I can’t think about anything else, Spencer.”

He doesn’t speak, but you don't really give him a chance to.

“I just, I know I sound crazy right now, but I feel fucking crazy. I keep going over everything in my head, and I have been, for the past year I have been, but now it’s all different. It's all different because they said that you loved me, but you didn’t think I’d feel the same way.”

Here, you do pause, but he still doesn’t say anything, so you go on before you can stop yourself.

“Because if that's true, Spencer, it's just- I did. I do. And if it's not, then please just tell me so I can stop feeling this way.”

He sounds resigned when he says, “Y/n,” and you feel like you know what that means.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I'm doing this. You don’t have to say anything. Actually, please don’t say anything. I don't think I can hear it. Just pretend I never-”

He cuts off your ramble, “Y/n, stop.”

You draw your eyes from the floor, look up at him, and find something in his gaze you have never seen before. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you, and it takes everything you have not to look away. His hand raises to cup your jaw, and your skin lights on fire. Before you can process what he’s doing, you feel his lips press against yours, and something clicks. At first, his touch is light, like he’s giving you the chance to pull away. But, when he grasps that you won’t, he presses himself to you harder, and all you can think about is how nothing has ever felt so right.

His lips move against yours, and you don’t know how you're managing to reciprocate because it feels like everything in your body has gone fuzzy. The kiss is by no means long, but it feels like it lasts forever, and by the time he pulls away, you’re breathless.

His forehead stays connected to yours, and he whispers, “I do, Y/n, love you. I have.”

You don’t feel the tears on your cheeks until he’s wiping them away.

“Oh, Y/n.”

“Did you know? That you did? Is that why…”

You trail off, hoping he’ll pick up on what you're asking, and he does.

“I didn’t at first, or I didn’t realize I was falling in love with you until it happened. I got scared, so I ran. I just never thought that you could feel the same or that I was hurting you. I didn’t realize that. I just thought I was doing what was best for us. I felt guilty for being in love with my best friend.”

“And Maeve?”

“I loved Maeve. I’ll always have love for her. I was trying to move on, and I thought I could eventually be with her and be around you without it hurting. I wish I would have told you this before.”

“You’re telling me now. That's enough.”

This time, it's you who pushes your lips to meet his. Your arms snake around his neck, and his fall to your waist. You follow when he pulls you into his apartment and closes the door. There is still pain on both sides, but you can feel it dissipating as you cling to each other. You’re just two broken people who have finally found a way to each other.

This kiss is different, hungrier. Neither of you pulls away for longer than a few seconds as you navigate your way from his entryway to his couch. Every touch is desperate like you're searching for something you never knew existed until now. His hands pull you closer and closer until he's pulling you on top of him, and each of your legs rests on opposite sides of his hips.

Your lips break from his for a moment, “What do you want, Spence?”

His reply is instant, “You.”

From there, things move faster. Your hands unbutton his shirt and push it from his shoulders while he undoes your pants. There are moments of awkwardness that come with exploring another for the first time, but it feels good. His hands trace over your hips and push further until you're left on top of him in only your underwear and bra. He takes you in like you are something to be marveled at, and you know your eyes reflect the same adoration.

You raise yourself off of him and work to get him in the same state of undress as you, and when you position yourself on top of him, you feel his length press against your center. The two thin layers of fabric do little to hinder the intensity as you rock into him. He lets out quiet moans at the action as his lips trace down your neck and over your collarbone.

His breath ghosts over you and makes you shiver when he asks, “Can I touch you?”

“Please.”

His hand moves between the two of you, and his fingers find your clit easily, rubbing circles over the fabric of your panties. You pant his name against his lips at the action. You feel like your whole body is lit up, and under any other circumstance, you'd feel embarrassed at how worked up you are, but you can’t seem to care.

After a few moments, he lifts you up and carries you to his bedroom. From there, he positions you below him on the bed, removing your remaining clothes in the same motion. The new setup lets you grip him, and he feels big in your hand. His fingers resume their previous assault before dipping down into you. You cry out at the feeling of him inside you, slowly pushing in and out, finding a spot that makes your legs start to shake. He’s relentless in his pursuit and all you can muster up the energy to say is his name.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n.”

It's somewhere between a whimper and a whisper, but the sound of his voice causes you to clench around his fingers.

He picks up on this, of course he does, and quickens his pace as he coos at you.

“So pretty like this. I’m so lucky.”

You’re embarrassingly close already, so when he moves his thumb over your clit to rub circles as he fucks into you with his fingers, you come undone almost instantly with a warning and cry of his name. He works you through your orgasm, all while whispering praise in your ear. Once you come down from your high, you start to push his boxers down his legs, but he stops you before you can fully.

“We don’t have to do anything more, Y/n. I liked just making you feel good.”

“I want more. I want to feel you if you want that too.”

“Of course I do. I just don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I couldn’t regret this, Spencer. I love you. I want all of you.”

It's the first time you’ve actually said those three words to him, and it feels so fucking good to say.

“I love you, too. God, so much.”

With that, he positions himself back on top of you, running his fingers over your slit gently before gripping himself.

“Do you have a condom?”

“I might somewhere, but I have an IUD, and I’m clean. I can try to find one if you’re more comfortable with that?”

“IUDs have a failure rate of around .05% and are largely considered the most effective form of birth control, so uh, as long as you're okay with it, I am.”

You smile to yourself at his statistic but nod, “I want to feel you, Spencer.”

He returns your smile before rubbing his length over your entrance a few times and slowly pushing himself into you just slightly. He teases you, or maybe himself, for a moment before fully entering you. You push your hips up to meet his, and feeling him in his entirety makes your jaw fall open. He’s big, and you feel unbelievably full.

He waits a moment for you to adjust before he starts to develop a rhythm. His hands are everywhere, but his eyes are focused solely on your face like he doesn’t want to miss a moment of your reaction to him inside of you. To be fair, you are probably putting on a good show. Every movement he makes hits you in exactly the right spot, and you don’t think you could be louder if you tried. You can feel the leg he’s not holding up against his shoulder shake against the bed. Your first orgasm has made way for your second to be incredibly close.

“Spencer, please.”

You’re crying out, desperate for a little more to push you over the edge.

“What do you need, baby?” His voice is tight like he’s not far himself, and it sounds better than anything you’ve ever heard.

“Harder. Please, harder.”

He takes your direction immediately, rubbing circles on your clit with one hand while he thrusts into you with a bruising force. He’s fucking you like he wants you to remember the feeling long after he stops, and you know that you will. Everything about it is overwhelming: his smell, his pace, his eyes. You are covered in him, and he is covered in you.

After a moment, the hand he had on your stomach trails up to grasp lightly at your throat, and you fall into feeling. You can’t warn him that you're about to come before you do. The feeling is white hot. Bigger than your first, and the fact that you're coming on him sends you into overdrive. You can feel his hips falter for a moment, but you're lost in a daze, crying out his name.

He pumps into you a few more times before he follows suit. He pulls out, and you feel stripes of his come paint your cunt and lower stomach as he finishes with a moan of your name.

He falls next to you on the bed, and it takes you both a few moments to collect yourselves and catch your breath.

Once you do, the only thing you can think to say is, “I love you.”

It feels like those are the only words circling around in your head at the moment. Some mixture of his name and that declaration. While you know you each said it before, that your profession was the exigence of the sex you just had, it feels uniquely vulnerable to say now. It’s like the moment you just had together could have changed things or made him realize that he doesn’t actually love you after all.

That shoe doesn’t drop, though. Instead, you hear the three words echoed back to you by a man who, 6 hours ago, you thought would never, ever say them.

You turn to face him, and the love on his face feels like it could knock you out. He’s looking at you and smiling in a way you haven't seen in a long time.

“Will you let me clean you up?”

You know that part of the reason he’s asking has something to do with the likelihood of bacteria growth or something like that, but you think it's mainly that he wants to take care of you. Him wetting a rag and running it over you feels intimate in a different way, in an excruciatingly gentle way. Personal in a way that makes you feel like nothing between you could ever be wrong again, and maybe that's naive to think, but you feel hopeful regardless.

Once he finishes, he takes his space back next to you in the bed. This time, he pulls you into his arms, and it's different than it was all those months ago. This time, you know that he won’t push you away and that you won't hurt yourself by being next to him. This time, you just tuck yourself into him, and you let him whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you begin to drift off. This time, it feels like peace.

~

The following day, you wake up to Spencer still next to you, looking incredibly soft in the early morning light. You search for a moment to find your phone in the piles of clothes and are greeted with a text from Pen.

How did it go????

You smile before turning your phone off and climbing back into bed next to the man you love. It couldn’t have gone better.

-

all done! yay!!!

i hope you guys love it!! i’m not 100% happy with the ending but i’ve been writing this for so long and just needed to be done.

this is my first time writing angst on here and my longest fic, so PLEASE tell me what you think! all (nice) feedback is welcome and i love to hear from you guys!! :)

[yutarot]

IN PERFECT SYNC [j.jh smau]

twenty-four — that same old dimpled smile. wc: 1.4k

knock.

knock.

knock.

he’s here.

you open the door with nothing but compliance. the cool air from outside flooding you with a chill that tickles your skin.

you brush your arm with the other hand, looking from the floor, slowly to meet his eyes.

he’s looking right at you, he has been since you opened the door, a searching expression in his eyes.

“hey yn.”

you pause and he smiles.

that same old dimpled smile.

“hi jaehyun.”

FLASHBACK: the night of chenles party. jaehyuns pov

he didn’t know what to do; with his feelings, with his life, with you.

he stands with yuta in the corner of the party, swirling a half empty cup in his hand.

yuta notices that jaehyun is distracted, so he tries to get his attention, tapping him on his arm.

“bro? you okay?”

jaehyun nods. “i’m just..”

“yn?”

there’s a pause. “yeah.”

“dude, you need to get over her. it’s been years. she hates you!”

jaehyun stares at him in annoyance and yuta laughs before apologising.

“im gonna go to the bathroom, have my drink.” jaehyun says, stumbling away from yuta.

“gee thanks!” yuta says sarcastically, watching his friend try and keep himself on his feet.

but jaehyun doesn’t make it to the toilet before his arm is dragged and he finds himself in a room, the door shut and a girls voice slurring to him. and she sounds angry.

“jeong jaehyun!!!!!!” the mystery girl yells, “you idiot!!!”

she hits him on the arm and jaehyun frowns in annoyance.

she says, “i hate you!!!”

jaehyun rolls his eyes, suspecting that she’s just the friend of some girl he slept with and “forgot” to text the next morning.

“well im sorry to your friend, but she isn’t her.”

he turns his body to leave the room but giselle stops him.

“she isn’t her?” giselle asks. “oh so your pining, that’s why you’re so moody.”

jaehyun freezes. this girl was persistent. “im not moody.”

“oh yeah right, you’ve always been moody!!!! ever since you ruined yn’s life!! you hate her, for absolutely no reason may i add!!!”

“you’re friends with yn?” he backs away.

“no. she’s just… popular.. everyone knows what you did.”

he tenses even more. he did ruin your life, he thinks. it was all his fault. he never told you the truth.

so now, he’s going to.

“i don’t hate her.”

the girl stiffens. “what?”

jaehyun walks further into the room, the absence of light and his drunken state allowing him to struggle finding the bed, but when he does, he sits, giselle sitting next to him.

“i dont hate yn, i never have, it was all a stupid rumour that i was too dumb to say wasn’t real in fear that she’d find out that i…”

“that you what?”

“that i like her.”

she sits up straight, silent filling the space between them.

“you liked her?”

“i like her.” he pauses, “of course i like her, she’s…she’s yn.”

“wow… thats…”

“stupid? yeah. i know. but you know what’s even more stupid?”

“what?”

“i made a dumb burner number so i could let out all my feelings without her knowing it was me.”

“what??!!!” she stands up. jaehyun looks at her in surprise. “so… it’s you? you’re Y?”

“yeah. how did you know that?”

“it doesn’t matter. look jaehyun, you can’t do this.”

“you think i don’t know that?” he stresses, “i’ve been trying to rid my feelings for years, i thought letting her hate me would atleast help with that.”

“…she can’t find out you like her.” the girl whispers, “you have to end this!!!!”

jaehyuns silent. “i have to end this.”

“give me your phone.” giselle says, arm outstretched.

“what? why?”

“because i’m going to help you get over her, even if it means she hates me too. and step one? letting her know.”

jaehyun hands her phone to jaehyun, and she types 3 words.

i’m over you.

“step two? you’re not going back into that party.”

“can i atleast know your name?”

“no.”

FLASHBACK OVER.

you let him in. just like last time. you’re willing to listen. you have to listen.

you have to know how this makes sense.

he was over you.

“but… the new Y, those messages… they-“

“were me.”

you’re silent. he looks at you with pity.

“it’s me. it’s always been me, before and now.” he pauses. “i’m Y, yn… again…”

“but… you, you can’t be..” you’re shaking, unable to understand what the hell is going on.

“listen, i’ll explain everything i promise.” he rests his hand on your shoulder, urging you to sit down. he sits next to you before he continues.

“the first time i told you i was Y… i thought it was a mistake. your friend giselle had tried to talk me out of it, even hooked up with me so i wouldn’t run to you, albeit i didn’t even know it was her until you told me, but i ended up coming to you anyways. and when i saw the look on your face? the disappointment that she warned me about? i couldn’t stand it. she was right, i had to get over you.”

your brows furrow, she had tried to convince him?

jaehyun continues, “so i lied, i told you i was over you, in hopes that i could do it. in hopes that, finally, i could forget about my feelings and let you be happy. but i couldn’t do it. and so i panicked. i tried to reverse everything. i was desperate yn, and so i tried to make it look like it was someone else again, that i was Y, past tense. i even spoke to yuta about it, and his dumbass said it was a good idea. i thought i made a mistake by telling you it was me, so i made up some random shit to make it seem like someone else.”

“what…?”

“it was always me… it won’t ever not be me. only from now on, ill try not be a fucking coward about it.” he laughs quietly, but when he notices the confusion in your face, he falters.

“i know i made this all so messy. but i care about you.” he sighs, “alot.”

“so all those messages saying ‘i’m glad jaehyun’s over you.’… that was just to make me think you weren’t Y, so that i’d really believe you were over me.”

“yeah.. i know i’m being selfish by telling you i still like you but, i hate lying to you. i don’t ever want to lie to you again. you don’t deserve that.”

you finally take a deep breath, one you’ve been holding since you let him inside.

“i like you, yn.” he nods down to your hands, asking if he can hold them and you nod your head. he takes them in his, brushing his thumbs over your knuckles gently. “i screwed up. this whole time, it wasn’t a case of me getting over you, it was a case of me getting over the fact that i wasn’t.”

you can’t help but smile in relief, a relief that you’re so incredibly unsure where it comes from.

“but i don’t think ill ever be.”

as if on instinct, you had risen to your toes, throwing your arms over his shoulders. his head falls to the nape of your neck and he hugs you, arms closing around the small of your back.

it’s warm, comfortable. you’ve missed this.

you can hear him, feel him, breathing. he’s finally calm, the same composed jaehyun that you and everyone else know him as. the hiphop team captain that only talks to those he thinks deserve his attention, and sleeps with the rest.

you pull away but he keeps his hands on your waist, you clear your throat and they flinch away, falling back to his side as he laughs.

“i’m sorry, about everything.” jaehyuns says, “i’ve made everything so hard for you, when all i wanted to do was make it easier.”

you nod, lips pursing into a small smile.

he continues. “i don’t expect you to suddenly grow your feelings for me back,” he laughs, “i just hope you’ll, maybe, hate me a little less.”

“thank you jaehyun. i mean it.”

his dimples show.

“and.. i don’t think i can hate you now.”

“really?”

“i mean… not if you try on a tutu infront of the boys..” you laugh, and he looks at you in terror before playfully chasing you around your dorm.

it’s nice, being friends with him again.

you should be scared. you should be anxious.

but something tells you, this time, he won’t let you hate him, that this time he won’t let his feelings come inbetween you.

something tells you this time will be very different

mlist — next

notes; well well well 😁😁😁😁 i am so absolutely horrified to post this chapter because ik you guys have been anticipating it like CRAZY😟😟 ive enjoyed all the theories and everything sososoooo much im definitely gonna include smn with possible theories in my next smau cus it’s been so fun🙏🙏🙏🙏 i rlly wana properly say thank you because u guys have been giving me so much support on this and it makes it so much more fun to write!!! i rlly hope you’re enjoying it as much as i am making it. there’s still quite a bit to go but Y is FINALLY REVEALEDDD🤗🤗🤗 (fr this time i swear)

taglist — open; @https-yeonjun @chenlesfavorite @therealbobbyshloby @f6llsun @jkslvsnella @nanaxwi @cloudmrk @neocrashed @vernonburger @vividwritess @taeeflwrr @mmjhh1998 @cyjzzl @stareaa @minkyuncutie @mrkleelvr @dudekiss3r @nattan127 @slayhaechan @jaeveil @tynlvr @mslora @nosungluv @grassbutneo @dokyriu @girlz4jaem @axo-l0tl @yyangj3lly @solvrse @m1ng1swife @gentlepeach @xiuriii @soobinbunnie5 @tocupid @apolloxxivmin @ctrlstar @gyuguys @tokitosun @i-kai @flamingi @mrkleelvr @en-dream @queenrachelpink @ssweetreveries @swanyvess @flaminghotyourmom @hyuck-me @cryingforjae @hizhu @starfilledgaze

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

cw: modern au, chronic pain, mention of Sirus' family but no talk of abuse, some talk of traumatic injury

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Sirius hates the cold. It makes him look ill, his nose always runs, and he does not have a head made for hats. 

The walk to the rink yesterday was bad, with the chill and the early hour and the dark mood that seemed to permeate him like it infused his very blood, but you made it better by being yourself. He suspects you might have even been going out of your way to be sweeter than usual, given that you knew it was the anniversary of the day Sirius ran away from his family’s home. You’d tried to cheer him up. Still, yesterday was bad.

Today is worse. 

You’re silent as you stalk down the sidewalk, one boy on either side of you. You said hello to both him and Remus as you stepped out the door of your apartment, and then that was it. If it were Sirius it might make sense, but you always have an unnatural amount of energy in the mornings. Obviously you’re not speaking to him. And Sirius is still upset about the addition of the death spiral to your routine, so he’s not speaking to Remus. And Remus is hardly one to spark up conversation during an uncomfortable silence, so that just makes the three of you a very sullen, very silent procession to your early fucking morning practice. 

Except when you arrive, the rink is already bustling. You take one step inside before going back out the door, forcing both boys back outside with you.

“What the fuck?” Remus tries to peer inside. For once, Sirius agrees with him. “Who’s taken our slot?”

“I don’t know,” you say, but you’re still standing in front of the door like you’re barring their entry. “I’m going to go find out. You guys stay here.” 

“Why?” Sirius asks.

Even when you look at him you’re not really looking at him, your eyes distant. If you’re trying to make him feel like shit, it’s working. “Because I don’t need either of you going in there to bite someone’s head off. I’ve got it.” 

With that, you slip inside, not giving either of them a chance to argue. Sirius supposes he could go after you anyway, but you seem like you’d bite his head off, and he’s hurting enough from the cold without that extra ailment to contend with. He pulls out a cigarette instead. 

“You really shouldn’t do that,” Remus hums, but when Sirius looks over the other boy is lighting up too, a cig dangling from the corner of his mouth. When he sees Sirius struggling with his lighter, his fingers frozen and clumsy, he rolls his eyes and steps closer. 

Sirius goes still as Remus cups a hand around his cigarette, lithe fingers an inch from his mouth. The lighter rasps once, and the warmth next to Sirius’ face is a welcome sensation. When Remus steps away Sirius straightens his shoulders, expression carefully impassive as he inhales. He doesn’t thank him. 

“She’ll have your ass for doing it, too,” he says. 

Remus lifts a brow, blowing smoke out one corner of his mouth. “Why? I don’t need my lungs for anything.” 

Sirius shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. She thinks she should be in charge of the whole world.” 

A soft chuckle. Remus looks out to where the sun will rise in a few hours, the sky still a sweet blue. “Maybe she should be.” 

Sirius can’t help a little smile at that. He takes comfort only in knowing Remus doesn’t see. “Don’t let her hear you say that.” 

They lapse into a brief silence, easier and more contented than Sirius would have thought possible between the two of them. It breaks only when you come bustling back out the doors. 

“Okay, so apparently—” You stop, looking between them both. “Guys. Seriously?” 

“What?” Remus asks, but Sirius knows better, dropping his cigarette and stamping it out. 

Your gaze flicks over him, almost approving but still a far cry from friendly. He swears your mouth wants to smile at him, only you’re not letting it. 

“Those are so bad for you,” you tell Remus. 

He levels you with a dry look, the brave bastard. “What does it matter? I’m not an athlete.” 

You wince but don’t back down. “Athletes aren’t the only ones with reason to live past fifty.” You give him a hard look. It takes a while, but eventually Remus relents, dropping his cigarette as Sirius had. You nod, crouching to pick up both dog-ends and taking them to a bin. “Each one shortens your life by eleven minutes, you know.” 

Remus meets Sirius’ eyes, incredulous. “She comes prepared with statistics?” he asks in a hushed voice. 

Sirius nods. “Told you so.” 

You brush your hands off on your pants. “Okay. Anyway, hockey practice got moved up.” 

“You’re joking,” says Remus. 

“Nope. And, someone else got wind of it before us, because the slot they had at nine has already been filled. We can’t practice today.” 

Sirius shakes his head. “Bullshit. Why did hockey get moved?” 

You shrug, hugging your middle so your hands can burrow under your arms for warmth. “Management said they didn’t know, only that someone on the team asked for a different slot just for today. Seems like they were sweet-talked into it.” 

Your eyes meet Sirius’ for half a second, and he takes out his phone, frigid thumbs anger-typing away. 

“So that’s it then?” Remus asks. He looks like he’d really like his cigarette back. “We’ve just woken up before dawn and we’re not going to practice?” 

You sigh. “Seems that way. We can come back during open skate, but you know how that is.” 

Sirius scowls, and Remus’ expression twinges with distaste. “Yeah,” says Remus, “let’s wait until tomorrow.” 

You all break where you usually do, though hours ahead of schedule, Remus going off towards his place and Sirius walking you in the direction of yours. 

“Fancy a coffee?” he asks you, voice intentionally light. 

It has the expected effect. You bristle at his easy tone, keeping your eyes ahead. “No, thanks.” 

“Fair enough.” Sirius would really like something to warm his hands, but he suspects he needs to pick his battles with you today. “Fancy telling me when we’re going to be friends again?” 

You blow out a harsh breath. It crystalizes in front of you, and you walk right through. “Don’t be daft. We’re always friends. It’s because I’m your friend that I’m so pissed off with you.” 

He nods slowly. “I don’t follow.” 

You shake your head, anger quickening your pace so that Sirius is nearly jogging to keep up with you. “Why can’t you ever stay out of your own way?” you ask him. “I know yesterday was hard for you, but you can’t be an asshole to everyone just because you’re having a bad day.” 

“Hey now, that’s not fair.” Sirius knows joking probably isn’t the best tactic with you right now, but he can’t help himself. “I wasn’t an asshole to you, was I?” 

“That’s what I mean!” You stop so hard he nearly plows into you, but you don’t so much as flinch at the possibility. Your stare is fierce. “You can’t keep trying to scare him off. It’s not going to work, and we need him. Can’t you see how much better he’s made us already? I know you didn’t want a coach, but Remus is good for us. So you can stop being so difficult.” 

“I am not being difficult,” says Sirius, though he often is. You stick your tongue in your cheek, annoyed, and he fights the urge to take your face in his hands. He hates having you cross with him, but at least you’re talking. “And you don’t know what we would be like if he weren’t here. We might’ve been fine.” 

You sigh, looking suddenly tired. And so, so disappointed. “That’s not the point anyways. You know what you said to him yesterday was wrong.” 

Sirius feels a dull stab in his gut. He knows. He does. He knew it the second it came flying out of his mouth, and he has no idea why Remus doesn’t seem as livid with him as you are. Remus, with his even voice and his exasperated, knowing looks and that stern little wrinkle between his brows, who seems able to wind Sirius up better than anyone else. A match to his short fuse. 

“How would you feel?” you ask. Some of the anger has fallen away from your voice, leaving it soft and sad. “What if we went to competition in a few weeks, and you injured yourself so that you knew you could never skate again. And then someone used it to mock you.” 

“He’s risking us doing that,” Sirius says, stubbornly, though he can hear the plea in his own voice, “by asking us to change the routine.” 

“He’s trying to help us,” you reply firmly. But your shoulders droop, and you sigh. “I know you feel bad about it. I’m done being mad at you now. It’s exhausting.” 

Sirius feels too hollowed out to revel much in the victory, but your arm linking through his does help some. “Some could say that was my plan all along,” he jokes weakly. 

You make a halfhearted attempt at a chuckle. “Good thing I know better. If your hands are in danger of falling off, you could stop at mine, make yourself a coffee.” 

“When I asked you for coffee five minutes ago you said no.” 

“Yeah, I wasn’t done punishing you yet.” 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Down Home 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The world's most famous heroes walk into a small town diner and change your life.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Note: Because of this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all to Jupiter and back. Take care. 💖

It’s a slow day. Every day is slow out in Tumble Down. The township’s name tells the whole story. Everything there is in decline. It’s hard to imagine there was ever a time when the people weren’t tiny and forgotten in the hubbub of the bigger world. Since the mines closed and the canning factory was outsourced, it feels even smaller. 

Smaller isn’t so bad. It’s simpler. You all know each other’s names and faces. You say hi and how are you and do what needs to be done. Simple is, simple as. 

You here there isn’t much to do in most small towns. Not for fun or for work. You’re one of the lucky ones. You got a job down at the diner in your sophomore year. It helped pay for your daddy’s new engine and since then, it keeps you all afloat in the rising waters of disparity as they close in on Tumble Down. 

You hum to the old radio that sits on the shelf you make sure to dust. The speakers crackle from time to time and the signal gets wonky in storm season, but the music’s never bad. It’s the classic stuff that always played in your mother’s kitchen. 

You wipe down another table. Not because it needs it, just because it’s something to do. The day has been long and listless. Even the breakfast rush was lower than usual. 

Darnell, the cook, whistles along from the back. Everyone knows he isn’t as mean as he looks. He just likes his space. 

As you go back to the counter and lean on it, staring at the ticking clock, a roar cuts through the distance. You blink and look up, narrowing your eyes at the dusty country road outside. Wind rustles through the tall wheat in the field opposite and the noise rumbles closer and closer. 

A man pulls in a motorbike. He’s going so fast that he has to circle the gravel lot before he can slow down. It’s not Lenny and his prized Harley but another man on a more modern-looking mount. Not far behind, another motorcycle zips through and the riders straddle their bikes as the survey the restaurant. 

You narrow your eyes. You probably need glasses but you make do. The last time you got your eyes checked, you didn’t have enough for the frames. 

The one man wears blue and red, an odd helmet on his head. Not a helmet at all but a sort of mask. The other man has dark hair to his chin and a beard to match. He’s all in black but his left arm shines with gold ripples. Not a sleeve, an arm, made of metal. 

“Oh my lord,” you murmur in shock, “Darnell!” You holler over your shoulder, “you’re not gonna believe this.” You turn to the window as he pokes his head around, “not sure I do myself. Tell me my eyes aren’t lyin’.” 

He looks above your head, an easy task for the mammoth cook. He hums and swirls around his spatula. “Thems those boys on the news. The one that was in the old war. Grandad’s battle.” 

“I’m not going crazy with boredom?” You bubble. 

He snorts. It’s as close to a laugh as you get from him. You spin back and hurry around the counter to grab a pair of menus. Still, you don’t want to seem too eager. You put down the menus and fiddle with a napkin holder instead. 

The bell over the door jingles and swipe up the menus and turn. You really can’t believe it’s them. Yet, as Captain America removes his cowl, you’re certain. They look just like they do on the TV. Even with your sight, you can tell. 

“Hello, fellas, how are you doin’ today?” 

The dark-haired one, the Winter Soldier, glances at the other, his cheek dimpling, “well... we’re... uh...” 

“We’re doing great,” Steve Rogers answers brightly. “Starving. You guys serve bacon? My buddy’s dying for some.” 

“Um, yes, sirs, yes. Can I sit ya down?” You ask, hugging the menus closer. 

“Please,” the Captain accepts as the other man stays silent and pensive, his eyes wandering down to the coffee stain on your apron. 

“Just here,” you sweep away and wave them on with you. You stop beside the nicest booth and lay down a menu on each side, “have a seat.” 

They do just as you bid. The blond puts his cowl on the table and unhooks the shield from his back to lay on the far end of the seat. He smooths back the sweaty strands of hair as his companion stretches his metal fingers. You sway nervously by the table, twitching as you remind yourself how to do your job. 

“Well, can I get ya started with coffee? You look beat from the road.” You beam with the smile Mr. Welk says could outshine the sun. 

“Not just the road,” the dark-haired one mutters as he rolls his shoulder. The one that connects to his real arm. “I’ll take one, please.” 

“Can I get an orange juice, please,” the Captain asks. 

“Course ya can. I’ll be right back. You have a look at the specials and give it a think,” you bounce and spin around. 

You go to pour the orange juice and a cup of black coffee. Darnell lingers by the window. He only ever really appears to put a plate up but he watches the new arrivals. 

You bring their drinks and step back, clasping your hands behind you. 

“Did ya need cream or sugar for your coffee, sir?” You ask. 

“Black’s fine,” he assures. 

“No need for the sirs. Steve, Bucky,” Captain America insists, “we’re off duty.” 

“Right, sorry about that, ssss...Steve,” you correct yourself. “You need some more time?” 

“Think I’m decided,” Bucky intones, “what about you?” 

“Set,” Steve confirms, “I’ll have the sunny side up with toast and sausage. Can I get some fruit on the side as well, please?” 

He hands over the menu and you take it as you hold your smile. Your cheeks ache. Not because you have to force it but because you can’t stop. This is the most exciting thing to happen in Tumble Down ever. If Darnell wasn’t there, no one would believe you. 

“Overeasy, bacon, extra bacon too, and some french toast, and uh... home fries.” Bucky offers up the second menu, “please and thank you.” 

“Alrighty,” you preen, “I’ll put your order in.” 

“Got it,” Darnell growls over the empty diner. 

“He’s got good hearing,” you giggle nervously as you look between the men. “Ummmm, sorry, I’ll leave ya be.” 

“You’re not bothering,” Steve assures. “I can see you’re dying to ask.” 

He gives a gentle smile. 

“Nah, oh, gosh. I’m sure ya get it all the time. I don’t wanna be one of those,” you put your hands up. “Really, you all look like you could use the peace and quiet.” 

“Well, actually, I’ve been stuck with this meathead for days,” Bucky scoffs, “so please, I’d love to hear someone else’s voice.” 

You laugh again. They’re funnier than you expect. They always look so serious on the TV. 

“What... what are y’all doing here in Tumble Down? It’s a bit far from... anywhere.” You ask sheepishly. 

“Tumble Down? Is that what it’s called?” Steve scratches his neck above his stained collar. “Well, we couldn’t get a signal so we’ve just been riding through. Saw the sign down the way and figured we’d get a bite.” 

“He’s lying. He was falling asleep on his bike,” Bucky teases. 

“Sure,” Steve shakes his head. “Only ‘cause I’m tired of you.” 

You giggle again, “I thought y’all were friends.” 

“Friends, partners, cursed with each other, have your pick,” Bucky snorts. 

“He’s playing,” Steve says. “Look, we’re boring. Despite what you think. We’re a couple of old men bickering with each other. What about you? What about Tumble Down?” 

“Ah, nothing really, sir. Steve,” you squeeze the menus tight at the edges. “Nothing going on since the coal law and that. Everyone’s all but run out. All but us.” 

“Just you? Your family?” Steve wonders. 

“Jesus, Steve, nosy much?” Bucky says over the brim of his mug. 

“Sorry. He’s right. Like I said. Crotchety old man. I talk to the pigeons.” 

You laugh again, “oh my, you are a hoot!” You slap your thigh emphatically, “I’m still my ma and pa. It’s just the three of us. They need help with the animals and that.” 

“Animals?” Steve wonders, his posture shifting towards you. 

“Chickens, cows. They got a farm. Was my grandpa’s. And his ma kept it going after he didn’t come home from... well, you’d know more about that time than me, I think.” You give a forlorn look to the floor. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry about your grandfather. Great grandfather,” he corrects himself. 

“Lotta good men gone,” Bucky mulls grimly. 

“Yeah, my great granny said as much. I wouldn’t know though, but I heard the stories,” you dare to look at them again. “Sorry to bring up the bad memories.” 

“Nah,” Bucky waves you off casually. “I got this nifty arm outta it.” 

“And I got a shield so, you know, not all losses,” Steve chuckles. 

“I s’pose,” you agree. “I’m gonna check on that food for ya. You good with your coffee?” 

Bucky raises the mug, “delicious.” 

You nod and turn with a swish of your skirt. You go up to the window and look over the ledge. “How’s it going, Darnell?” 

“Going. I’m happy it ain’t Raylene here. She’s got a mouth on her, don’t she? Them sort don’t deserve that trouble,” he tisks. 

“They’re nice. And Raylene is too. She’s just... Raylene,” you say, “can I help with anything?” 

“I don’t wanna be rude but I’m tired of tellin’ ya to stay outta my kitchen. You know the grill likes to spit,” he shakes his head. “You go, I’ll let ya know when it’s ready.” 

“Alright,” you back away and turn back. 

Steve and Bucky lean over the table, their voices low as they chat. As you move around behind the counter, they both sit up and the former clears his throat. You smile as you take the cloth from your apron pocket and wipe the already clean counter. 

As the radio buzzes, you hum without thinking. Stevie Ray Vaughan’s smoky voice mingles with the emotion plucked through electric strings. Your dad’s a big fan. He has old tapes with concerts on them and even went to one himself. 

The bell rings and you nearly jump out of your shoes. You turn and scoop up the plates as you thank Darnell. He grumbles that he’s going out to have a smoke; his code for having a Tootsie Pop by the backdoor. 

You bring the meals over to the table and set them down before the men. Their gazes make you sweat. It’s all a little more intense with no one else there. 

“Thank you,” Steve says and Bucky echoes him. 

“Not at all. Anything else? Water? Ketchup?” 

“It all looks great as is,” Steve says, “you got a nice voice.” 

“Oh, really? Ha, I was just humming out of tune. Sorry if I was too loud.” 

“Not at all,” Bucky picks up his fork as he leans forward. He tilts his head. “You know this one?” 

“Sure do. It’s Fleetwood Mac,” you answer. “One my all times.” 

He grins and nods as he looks at Steve. Steve watches you with a smile of his own. 

“Do you sing?” He asks. 

“Me? Only in my shower or to the chickens. They usually hide in the henhouse then.” You tinkle with laughter. 

“Ah,” Steve nods. 

“But if... if ya really wanna suffer, I could try it,” you smile, “but uh, you know, Stevie Nicks, she’s one of a kind.” 

“I’ve had worse,” Steve says. 

You look between him and Bucky. You chew your lip and think. You follow the song as you try to recognise which verse it is. You squint and perk up as you catch your place. 

“You just let me know when you’ve had enough,” you say before you start. Not only can you tell your pa that you met the super soldiers, you can tell him you sang for them. It’ll be a nice bit of excitement for the dinner table. 

[honeyed-nothings]

To Have a Crush: Savanaclaw

Warning(s): Gender-neutral reader, not proof-read, OOC

Notes: Procrastination hit me hard…also I did not expect to spend an hour finding decent enough emoticons for them. May just switch to regular bullet point style someday since I’m still trying to figure out what format I like(╥_╥). Never realized how hard it was to make a pretty format on tumblr until now. Also I’ve gotten pretty rusty too but my schedule has finally cleared up a bit so I’ll be able to be a little more active now!

Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia

Leona Kingscholar

𓄂 A crown of love that the king wears. A herbivore was all you were to him. Another nameless face in the faceless crowd of people who he couldn’t care less about in the grand scheme of things. That’s how it was supposed to stay…until it didn’t. The proud lion will never admit this (or at least not anytime soon) but that day where you, a weak and stupidly stubborn human, stood your ground among all the dust and debris was both one of the most frustrating experiences in his life and also the first time he ever thought of you as ‘strong’. Every so often he thinks back to that moment and sighs before pulling you towards him to lay on the grass.

𓄂 A king should always be accompanied by his retainers. However, he’s not king and you’re definitely not his retainer. Just a stubborn herbivore who happened to catch his eye, that’s all. You’re not that great as an errand runner either but it���s better than just one. A help that Ruggie greatly appreciates but occasionally complains about how you always take the lighter load. Don’t think much about it, he just doesn’t want you messin’ up or anythin’. Strangely, whenever you do run errands for him, there’s conviently always an extra that he gives to you. Reasoning to you that the King of Beasts would’ve done the same thing to those under his care. The proud lion knows this is a lie he can’t keep using to play off what he feels inside. Not when his own ears and tail betray him.

𓄂 Tch, well this is embarrassing.

𓄂 Maybe it was a good thing that Leona already knew. From the moment his tail unconsciously wrapped around you, he knew what his heart was telling him as it beat in his chest. There, with you and him napping underneath the shade of a tree, he realized he had fallen in love. He didn’t know whether he should’ve laughed or cursed the world so he chose to do neither instead. Gently brushing a stray leaf off that had fallen on your face, he chuckled. Guess something like love ain’t all that bad.

𓄂 A crownless lion who’s more hated than loved and a visitor from a place far from here. An interesting duo you two make as he pulls you yet again away from class to nap in the shade with him. His attempts at catching your heart aren’t too noticeable, only noticed by the keenest of eyes. He’ll never be the ideal partner, that he acknowledges despite his pride. But being sappy and overly romantic isn’t his style. That’s why, he’ll win your heart in his own way. A path perhaps not that of a king, but of a man in-love. The prideful lion may not bow his head to no one, but for you he’ll take a knee.

“Huh, well aren’t you gettin’ bolder? I didn’t think you’d beat me to it.”

Ruggie Bucchi

シ Hidden amidst the dirt and grime was love. It’s ingrained into Ruggie to look after people but he’s learnt to not let it be given without a price. Outside of his family and Leona, the latter of whom was more so to help his own skin, he didn’t exactly feel any desire or need to look after you. Sure he felt pity, after all you’re in a tighter spot than him in the world, but aside from that you were just an after thought. Nobody of note that could be beneficial to him in any way. That was until Leona overbloted and well…he’s somewhat grateful that you don’t have much of a survival instinct. You’re a real goody two-shoes aren’t you? Still, he’s thankful that you’re the way that you are. Hyenas never forget a debt and this one he owes to you alone.

シ It really just started off with it being to repay his debt to you. Sure it’s not much but he can’t really do anything fancy like paying you millions of madols or giving you land. That’s why, the hyena has chosen to pay it back his own way. Simple as it may be, it’s all he really has to offer. It’s not like watching your back is gonna cause him anymore work than he’s already got. Soon enough, he found himself doing more than what he intended to. Giving parts of his lunch to you, claiming he didn’t feel like it or there was extra. Stopping during his errands whenever he spotted you to have a quick chat before going off again with slightly more enthusiasm than before. Or heck, sparing you a few madols so you can get what you need. It’s kinda a loss but he just can’t seem to make himself stop. Not when you smile at him so brightly.

シ Wait a minute.

シ Nah…nahh he can’t seriously be in love with you or somethin’, right? Being close to you is just to pay off his debt, not cause he actually likes your company or anything, right?? But as his eyes catch his reflection on the window panes of the college, he can no longer deny the blush on his face or the rapid beating of his heart as the thought of you runs rampant in his mind once again. Well, guess there’s no point in fidgeting around anymore.

シ He’s not much, really he ain’t. Ruggie knows he won’t hold a candle to anyone else in the school in terms of magic or madol but what he does have is his smarts. In his own way, he’ll try and appeal to you. Sometimes he’s confident, other times he feels like he wants to die from how embarrassing it must’ve looked. Still, he tries and tries and tries. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, you’ll choose him buried underneath piles of trash.

“You-…you’re really choosing me?”

Jack Howl

ᴥ︎ Love that resounds throughout the night. A team up was all Jack figured it’d be. An agreement to right the wrongs and set things straight so that one day, once more, Savanaclaw would be able to say from the bottom of their hearts that they won. Nothing big enough to lead into the friendship that came to be between you and him. Well then things took a turn for the worse and then the better and well…he’s sure you get it. An accident, a friendship, a bond, whatever it is, the stubborn wolf has decided that he’ll have your back. No matter what and no matter where, he’ll help you out.

ᴥ︎ Respect was all it was. A respect towards a magicless human who proved their own strength by courageously standing in the face of death. Not everyone has a spirit like that and the wolf beastman couldn’t help but look at that and think ‘Ah, now that’s strength’. In doing so, he wanted to be respected by you too. That’s why, when he could, he’d wait outside Ramshackle and walk with you to your classes, carrying your books and providing an umbrella if it’s a rainy day. Need help on the homework? He won’t tell you the answers but he’ll help you figure it out at least. Like working out? Great! He’s more than willing to provide some tips and tricks to achieving the goal you want. Well it wasn’t until Ruggie teased him about how much more happy he seemed doing all that stuff for you that it finally clicked for him. This…isn’t good.

ᴥ︎ D-don’t misunderstand him!

ᴥ︎ Actually no, maybe you should— wait no you shouldn’t! Jack doesn’t know how to feel about…this now that he fully recognizes it. Well- he does, in a way, it’s just…complicated. To be honest, he did have a suspicion that his feelings of respect towards you had turned into something deeper. How fast his tail wagged whenever you were nearby, how he wanted to put even more effort into whatever he was doing when you were watching, how red his face turned whenever he took a ‘secret’ glance in your direction, it really was way too obvious looking back on it.

ᴥ︎ Wolf-type beastmen only have one partner for the rest of their lives. Dedicating themselves entirely to whoever their partner may be. Jack always dreamed of finding his one true partner, he just never expected it to happen so soon. Yes, a crush to him counts as his one true love as childish as it may be. With exactly zero romantic experience under his belt and only equipped with the knowledge of the multiple times his parents told him their love story, he attempts to appeal to you. Surprisingly, for a first timer in love, they’re all thought out and not embarrassing. Jack isn’t good at hiding how feels about you in front of you or anyone else, but it has a certain charm to it. The charm of an adolescent boy in love who cares for you quietly, unable to hide how he feels, as his heart and tail follow the same beat.

“..Phew, you’re here. Prefect, I—uh need to tell you something.”

[writeriguess]

Can you do love and deepspace oneshot, Sylus has a big crush on you but tries to hide it by acting like he hates you more than anything. But then something happens and you almost die. He's the one who finds you when your unconscious and he has to rescue you.

The metallic hum of the ship’s engine reverberated through the hull, a constant reminder of the cold void outside. You stood by the console, the dim lights of the control room casting shadows across your face as you reviewed the latest systems check. Everything was fine. Routine. Boring, even.

“Not like you’d notice if something was wrong anyway,” a sharp voice cut through the silence. Sylus.

You clenched your fists, already bracing yourself for the inevitable argument. His footsteps echoed as he strode into the room, red eyes blazing, his silver hair catching the dim light as he glared at you. He had a way of making you feel like you were the biggest problem in the galaxy.

“You have something to say, Sylus?” you asked without turning around, keeping your voice even, despite the irritation bubbling beneath your skin. He always managed to get under your nerves, like he thrived on provoking you.

“You were supposed to run diagnostics on the airlock this morning,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain.

“I did.” You turned to face him, crossing your arms. “Everything checked out. It’s fine.”

Sylus scoffed, his mouth twisting into a sneer. “Fine? You can’t even keep the main systems running without help, and now you’re telling me the airlock’s fine? If it fails, we all die, but sure, keep pretending you know what you’re doing.”

Your jaw clenched. “I’ve been doing this for years, Sylus. I don’t need a lecture from you.”

His red eyes flashed with anger. “Years of screwing up. Just like you always do. You think because you’ve survived this long, you’re invincible? Newsflash—”

“Newsflash, what?” you snapped, stepping closer to him, your chest tight with frustration. “You think you’re so perfect? You act like you’re the only one who knows anything, but you’re just—”

“Just what?” he interrupted, stepping into your space. “Go on, say it. You’ve got no idea what you’re doing out here. I wouldn’t trust you to make a sandwich, let alone keep this ship in one piece.”

“Why are you even here?” you fired back, the heat rising in your chest. “If I’m so incompetent, why don’t you just leave? Find a crew who worships your perfection, because I’m done with this!” You pushed past him, feeling the burn of his gaze on your back. You couldn’t stay in the room a second longer.

His voice followed you as you stormed down the corridor, his words biting. “That’s right, run away. It’s the only thing you’re good at.”

You didn’t turn back, anger simmering through your veins. He always had to be right, always had to cut deep. You couldn’t stand it anymore. The tension between the two of you had been building for months, and you had no idea why he hated you so much.

Your mind was still clouded with frustration when you entered the maintenance bay. You needed space to clear your head, to focus. You went over to the airlock controls, your eyes scanning the panel. Everything looked normal. You weren’t going to let him get to you. You were better than this. But your focus wavered, your thoughts still tangled in the fight. Sylus, with his damn attitude and—

The sudden blaring of alarms yanked you out of your thoughts. The airlock warning light flashed red. You froze for a moment, realizing too late what had happened. The seal was failing. You lunged for the emergency override, but it was too late. The doors hissed, and a sudden gust of freezing air slammed into you.

You were pulled toward the gaping maw of the vacuum. You tried to grab hold of the railing, but the force was too strong, and your grip slipped. You felt yourself being sucked into the void, cold and unforgiving, as your vision began to blur. Your breaths grew shallow, the pressure in your lungs unbearable.

Then, everything went dark.

When you woke, you weren’t sure how much time had passed. Your body ached, and the sharp pain in your chest reminded you that you should be dead. But instead, you were lying in the med bay, the sterile light burning your eyes as you blinked awake. You could hear faint beeping, the sound of medical equipment monitoring your vitals. And then you heard him.

“Finally awake, huh?”

You turned your head and saw Sylus leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on you. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was different—quiet, softer than you’d ever heard it before.

“How—what happened?” you rasped, your throat dry.

“You almost died,” he said bluntly, his voice tight. “Airlock malfunction. I found you just before you got sucked into space.”

You stared at him, the reality of what had happened sinking in. “You… saved me?”

Sylus didn’t answer right away. He pushed off the wall, walking over to the bed, his red eyes never leaving yours. “Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he muttered. “Someone had to. You were unconscious. Probably wouldn’t have made it if I hadn’t gotten there when I did.”

“Why?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why do you hate me so much?”

His gaze flickered with something you couldn’t place, and for a moment, he looked almost… conflicted. “I don’t hate you,” he said, his voice low. “I never did.”

You frowned, confused. “Then why do you always—”

“Because I can’t stand it,” he interrupted, his red eyes burning with intensity. “I can’t stand being around you, because every time I look at you, I—” He stopped himself, clenching his jaw. He was holding something back, something he didn’t want to say.

“Because what?” you pressed, heart pounding.

“Because I’m in love with you, dammit!” he exploded, his voice cracking. He took a step back, running a hand through his silver hair in frustration. “I’ve been in love with you for months, and it’s driving me insane. And I thought if I kept pushing you away, it’d go away, but it hasn’t. It’s just gotten worse.”

You stared at him, stunned into silence. The sharp, angry Sylus you’d known had just shattered in front of you, revealing something raw and vulnerable beneath.

“You… love me?” you repeated, hardly able to believe it.

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Yeah. Pretty stupid, right? I tried to hate you. Thought if I convinced myself you were the problem, I wouldn’t feel like this. But then, seeing you like that… I couldn’t lose you.”

Your chest tightened, not from the lingering pain but from the weight of his words. Everything you thought you knew about Sylus, every cold glance and harsh word, had been hiding this. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond.

“I didn’t know,” you whispered.

“Of course you didn’t,” he said, looking away, his fists clenched at his sides. “I made sure of that. I wasn’t going to tell you. But when I saw you lying there… I couldn’t hide it anymore.”

The silence stretched between you, thick with everything left unsaid. You searched his face, seeing the torment behind his red eyes, the frustration, the fear. And beneath it all, the love he had fought so hard to conceal.

“I don’t hate you either, Sylus,” you said softly. “I just… I didn’t understand why you treated me like that.”

“I know,” he murmured, finally meeting your gaze. “And I’m sorry. For everything. But if you give me a chance, I’ll prove to you that I’m not the jerk you think I am. I’ll show you how much I care.”

You nodded slowly, feeling the walls between you both begin to crumble. The ship still hummed quietly in the background, but the cold, empty space didn’t seem so dangerous anymore—not when Sylus was standing right there, no longer hiding from his feelings.

And in that moment, the airlock malfunction, along with your fight, seemed like a distant memory.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like at once.

[97keanu]

Premise: Kick-Ass stumbles into your room while escaping a scuffle one night and you just had to make him yours.

Tags/CW: Bimbo/Mean Girl!Reader, Subby!Dave (until he’s not :3c ), Rich girl!Reader, p in v, oral (M + F Receiving), Voyeurism, Mask stays ON!, lots of smut little of plot, dirty talk.

Words: 5.5k

Out of all the open windows in New York, how did Dave get as lucky as to pick yours to jump into?

You fall into your plush pink bed with a pout. You can’t believe you’re grounded on a Friday night, and the sounds of people bustling around on the streets of New York below didn’t help to make you feel better. You look around your room, designer furniture drenched in pinks, creams, and white taunting you like a gilded cage. Tortured, you throw a hand over your face, rolling over in bed to grab your iPod touch that features an endless scroll of all your friends having much more fun on social media.

You glance out your window, the sparkling sky line of the upper east side of New York glittering with fun that you’ve been disallowed from taking part in. It’s open just slightly, letting in the cool late September air into your bedroom. You groan as another text from your besties comes in showing just what you’re missing, a video of them walking down near your street and laughing together.

“We’re like right outside, you should just sneak out.” One sends, tempting you.

You think about it, how easy it would be to just climb out of your window and down the fire escape and try to make it back home before anyone would notice, but you know how many more Friday nights you would miss if you got caught.

You’re just about to text them back about just how miserable you are, and that you can’t risk it tonight, when a new video pops up in the chat.

You’re ready to tell them to stop teasing you with a good time and that you already feel like a prisoner in your own home when you notice that the video takes on a different tone than the last one.

You watch as the pedestrians behind your friends start a commotion, someone in the crowd trying to push through. You hear a polite, yet urgent voice as you get a better look at just who is causing such a stir.

“Sorry! Sorry! Excuse me, folks, coming through!” The man appears to be masked, a green and yellow body suit covering anything identifying.

He moves around your friends and begins to crawl up a familiar looking fire escape.

“Holy shit, is that Kick-Ass?” One of your friends in the video yells before the scene becomes a blur and the video ends.

Kick-Ass? That vigilante everyone’s been posting about?

You barely have time to think much more to yourself as you hear the sound of foot steps pounding up the rusty metal outside your window. You pull back from the bed, almost letting out a half scream as a pair of green gloved fingers slide in the gap in your window. The figure slides it open further before launching his body inside your room with a crash, taking most of the assortment of trivial things off your nearby desk.

“Oh my god!” You clutch your iPod, barely registering that there’s a man in your room and you only have on a pair of panties and a PINK baby tee on. “What are you doing?”

“Uh, I’m sorry,” Kick-Ass looks around your room in disbelief, his bright blue eyes and his pouty plump lips the only parts exposed by his mask. “I just, REALLY needed to get away from those guys!”

He tries to catch his breath, panting for a second before looking over at you and your scantily dressed form.

“Oh, geez, I um,” His soft voice wheezes out in embarrassment for the situation, not able to find any words to make this any better.

”You were?” You raise a perfectly plucked brow, folding your arms over your chest.

“I um,” He tries to find any way that makes him look like less of a perv, but he knows that it’s pretty much useless.

Your iPod keeps Ping!-ing, and finally after giving the stranger in your room one final stare down, you peek at just who’s bothering you.

“OMG he like totally crawled in your window!”

“Like wtf are you guys going to do in there???”

“I know what I’D be doing if Kick-Ass was in MY room.”

“Shut the fuck up, Jessica ur like such a slut.”

“Well, he IS kind of hot.”

“Well, there’s no way he actually went into HER room, it had to be someone else’s…”

A smile twists onto your pretty glossy lips, and you glance up at this supposed crime fighter named “Kick-Ass” before taking a few steps towards him.

“So,” You say, the nervous energy clearly written on his face, despite the mask. “You’re telling me you’re the Kick-Ass guy they’ve all been talking about.”

“Um,” His voice catches, then he clears his throat. “Y-yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“And I would be like, so totally cool for getting to meet you?” You take another step closer, your bare, manicured toes sinking into your plush white carpet with each step.

“M-maybe, I don’t really…” His voice trails off as you continue closer, hands extending to touch gently on his chest over the superhero suit. “…Know…”

“Mhm…” You look up at him, batting those long lashes of yours at him while drawing a circle with one finger over his heart. “I think it’s only fair I get something out of this since you so rudely barged into my room like this.”

“W-what do you have in, um, mind, exactly?” You can practically see the desperation in his eyes as they flick from yours down to your glossy lips.

“Oh, nothing, I just need you to help me prove something to my friends.” You lean up on your tip toes, letting your face get closer and closer to his. “Just a little kiss, well, maybe more…”

You watch as he exhales, shaky and full of want, and his big blue eyes blink with confusion.

“What? A big time superhero like you can’t mind a little attention, can he?” You whisper out, letting each word fall with implied longing.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s not such a good idea…” He must be crazy to hesitate, but he does, trying to pry his eyes from looking at you.

”Think about it, being seen giving a hot girl a kiss will give you major street cred.” You coo, attempting to sweeten the deal. “You’ll like, totally, have saved the day.”

Kick-Ass just looks at your lips for second, as if envisioning himself pressing his to yours. Then his eyes flick back up to yours, their wide eyed innocent stare searching there.

“J-just a kiss?” He can’t help himself from looking at your kissable lips now as he says it, watching as you bite your bottom lip and nod your head.

You’ve got him in your pretty pink manicured hands now, all you have to do is lead him over to your window.

The night air blows your hair back as you open the large window to its fullest extent, which allows you to prop your cute ass up onto the window sill. You hear the sounds of your friends gasping below and whispers as you pull the green masked vigilante towards you. You already know they likely have their phones out, but you don’t care. You watch as Kick-Ass’s eyes go from you to down below, obviously fighting nerves in favor of getting a taste of your cherry lip gloss.

You take his face in your hands, thumbs rubbing up against the fabric of his mask, and you pull him closer, his body moving with yours with a held back eagerness. You know there’s no way he would refuse a girl like you.

His lips touch yours like butterfly wings, softly before yours go in for the kill, crushing into his big, plump lips. Your friends whoops and holler below, and maybe even some pedestrians you don’t know stop to stare as the hero known as Kick-Ass puts his tongue down your throat. You can hardly wait to hear the rumors this will stir up, enjoying the popularity it will bring you at the same time as you enjoy his warm, deep kiss.

You pull away to catch a breath, and look into those dazzling blue eyes, seeing the longing that is rising there and beneath that green suit of his. You turn, looking down at the small crowd below, flashes of cellphones applauding your performance. You kiss your hand, waving it out the window and taking Kick-Ass by the fabric of his suit near his chest, and pulling him back into your room further, leaving the audience wanting more. Your iPod is already blowing up with attention, but right now you have something else you need to attend to, and it’s not your friend's texts.

“Wow…” He breathes out, your pink lip gloss sparkling on his lips and stars in his eyes. “You’re a really good kisser…”

The innocent way he talks makes you wonder if he’s ever even kissed a girl before, making you turn to him and pause.

“Is this,” You say, sweeping your hands on his lower body but not quite touching anywhere too sensitive, yet still making him shudder. “New to you?”

“Maybe, just a little,” He breathes out, letting you press into him until he’s sitting on the edge of your girly pink bed.

“I thought a big star like Kick-Ass would be a hit with the ladies,” You smile while his head leans back from how you’re touching up his chest.

“Nobody’s exactly, um, offered…” He admits, his words slow, distracted by your hands as they reach near his neck.

“Just who is under here…” You whisper, the edge of your fingers slipping under the very edge of that green mask.

“W-wait!” His hands fly up, body suddenly stiff. “We have to keep the mask on.”

You stay there for a moment, not moving, watching those baby blue eyes strain to say something to you that you can’t comprehend. You let your hands slip back down.

“Alright, but I think you’ll have to take the rest off.” You tease him, pulling at the body of the green suit this time, biting your lip while you fantasize about what’s underneath.

—————

Just how Dave managed to trip his way into the most popular girl in the school's bedroom, he’ll never know.

What he does know is that right now you’re looking at him like you want to eat him alive and he can barely contain the urges that he wants to do to you right now. He can hardly think straight with your hands on him, unzipping the Kick-Ass costume and letting the cool night air hit his bare skin. Dave shivers as your warm hands replace the cold and he thinks he might just die right here and right now.

He watches you, your perfect body that any boy at school would die to be touching right now, and he can barely keep his breath steady. God, he’s had a crush on you for so long, and you have no idea that he’s actually the nerd in your history class that you don’t even talk to unless you have to. He’s even talked to Marty and Todd about how hot you are, and they wouldn’t believe it if he had proof that he kissed you at all, let alone the fact that you’ve got his suit off, your manicured hand pressed up against his underwear like that.

“F-fuck…” Dave breathes out, his head lolling against his shoulders, his arms flexing their muscles as he braces against the plush of your pink bed.

“God, you’re so sensitive,” You say to him, a thin eyebrow quirked.

Dave can barely respond as you apply pressure to his cock over his black boxers, his mouth trying to find words and all that it finds is a hum of moans and affirmative “uh-uh’s”.

“You better be careful, you look like you might just make a mess in your boxers if I’m not careful.” Your voice is bratty, teasing him harshly about how easy it was to rile him up.

It was true though, Dave’s large hands curling into the pink bedspread to stop himself from bucking into your hand and finishing himself off then and there. You would think with how much he jacks off he wouldn’t be so close so soon, but he can’t help himself. Not with the way you’re touching him right now, and god, definitely not how you’re looking up at him from where you sit between his legs on your knees.

Your mouth goes over his cock, hot breath bleeding through the silky cotton of his boxers and making him close to losing his mind and his load right then and there. A struggling whimper escapes his mouth.

“I don’t- I don’t know if I can…” He can’t finish his sentence, he has to focus on not coming when you touch him like that.

”Oh, my poor little superhero,” You chide, looking back up at him while you do. “Maybe we should start you off with something a little less intense.”

All he can do is nod his head along. God, you could have told him you wanted him to walk right out that window and plummet down below and he would have. He would do anything right now to please you.

“Lay back on the bed.” You instruct and he complies. “Hopefully you can breathe with that mask on.”

For a second, Dave has no idea what you mean, until you crawl up him, thighs on either side of his body until their on either side of his head. You’re close enough that he can see the tiny lace and bows on your panties from here, and before he can say anything, you’re sliding them to the side. His eyes go wide, and he watches as you reach down and gently touch yourself. Dave’s never seen one in real life, and for a moment he’s mesmerized by how badly he wants his tongue deep inside you.

“Let’s see how well you can eat me out,” You look down at his big blue eyes looking up at you and you can’t help how turned on you are by him looking at you with such worry and want in his dark eyebrows. “Then if you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll touch you…”

He nods. Oh god, how he nods. He wants nothing more than for you to suffocate him between your thighs right now. He needs you to completely use his face up for whatever you need and nothing more. You lower yourself onto his soft lips, and all he can do is take in your scent for a moment. You smell so sweet and so musky, it’s as if every breath of you goes straight to his cock, making it rock hard. His hands come up, gripping your plush thighs and pulling you onto his face deeper. His tongue flops out, taking in your taste before trying to please you further.

Dave hopes he’s doing a good job, he’s never done this before, but it’s been one of his biggest fantasies and porn searches. He tries to keep his tongue at a good speed, taking note of the moans you make, when you pull on the top of his mask ever so slightly as you hump his face to your own delight.

You were right, it is hard to breathe in this mask with your pussy blocking up every other way of breathing. Somehow, it makes it better. The fact that you control when he gets to breathe, that you lift yourself up just enough for him to catch the tiniest breaths of fresh, cool air before letting your weight down on him once more and suffocating him further. All he can do is grip your thighs, everything in his body trying as hard as possible to please you and not reach down and grab his own cock. He knows if he did, he would cum in a jerk or two and he just can’t let that happen, not yet at least.

“Fuck, your face is such a good seat,” You moan as you come closer, his tongue working magic as he tries to remember techniques from wikihow he learned just in case this ever happened to him.

Dave moans when you say this, the vibrations exciting you further. You look down at him, and he watches as you bite your lip while you ride his face, your gorgeous tits bouncing just perfectly. He reaches up, his hands grabbing them and you invite him further by putting your hand on his, pressing him into you more. You close your eyes as his tongue flicks against your clit, moving in circles and sucking when he can. After you give him some air, you come back down and his tongue twists lower, finding your sopping wet hole and diving in, taking a deeper taste. You shiver, your legs constricting against the sides of his head.

He lets his tongue get as deep inside you as he can before coming out and focusing on your clit once more, letting his tongue go flat and lapping up every inch of it. He’s proud of himself for being able to find it so easily, and the confidence gives him the energy to fight the tongue fatigue that’s slowly creeping in. He’s waited to long for this, he’s not stopping until you cum for him.

His eyes slowly open and close as you continue riding his face how you like it. He’s pratically drunk off your pussy, currently living and breathing to make you feel good. It’s like he can’t get you closer to him, his hands pulling at your thighs and waist to try to get you deeper on top of him, his breaths wild and sucking in as much air as possible between sets.

”God, I think I’m going to…” You whisper on top of him and he tries to keep his speed, only increasing enough to push you over the edge without changing up too much (he read somewhere that that’s what you’re supposed to do).

You grind harder than before, letting his tongue suck and circle your sensitive clit over and over and over until you can’t take it anymore. You begin to spill over the edge, your moans increasing, your grip on him harder than before. You feel it unwind in your lower stomach, that blissful feeling of release, those tired and tight muscles giving up and giving in to pleasure.

“Fuck…” You whine out as you finish on his face. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Your body lets go completely and your legs shake, growing weak as the pleasure fully releases. Dave holds you up with his strong arms, making sure you feel supported as you come down. He can’t believe he made you cum like that, and his tongue laps up all that you give him greedily, that reward he gets for working so hard to make you cum.

You pull off slowly, moving down to sit on top of his aching cock with your hot, wet pussy dripping on his boxers. He almost loses it right then and there, but resists as he comes down from being so engulfed with pleasuring you. You both breathe for a moment, blissful with what’s transpired.

“Well,” You start with a shaky breath. “You definitely don’t need much more practice with that…”

Dave lets out a small chuckle that turns into a whimper as you move your hips against his cock, grinding ever so slightly, his eyes going from blissful existence to full of want and longing in such a short amount of time. He’s totally under your control.

“What else could Kick-Ass ask for…?” You tease him, inviting him to tell you what he wants next.

For a moment, he wishes he could tell you not to call him that, to say his name, to beg for him in that way, but there’s no way you would be doing any of this if you didn’t think he was the badass that fought in the streets of New York. He couldn’t tell you, couldn’t admit just how much of a nerd he really was, there’s just no way…

”I want to,” He pants, his mouth slick with you and his eyes looking at your lovely tits. “T-those…”

“God, you’re so pathetic, you can’t even form proper sentences after that face fucking, huh?” You look down at him, his big doe eyes mesmerized by your body.

You sigh and give in to his demands, however, lowering your tits to his face. He closes his eyes happily, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking with want. He pulls off in a moment with a pop before giving the other attention, the one not being sucked taken by his hands and massaged. You grind into his hips, working slowly so as to not push him over the edge just yet. His eyelids flutter as he looks up at you, his vision not quite seeing you, blurry from his lack of glasses and just how much he wants this.

You pull back, moving down so that your lips can kiss his, vaguely tasting yourself on his. You move like water, slow and liquid smooth, entrancing him further and further with your beautiful body and well placed touch. You let his lips into yours, teeth biting into the soft meat there and teasing, pulling. His moans mix in your mouth while you let your tongue explore inside of him. You come up for air, watching as he looks at you with heavy eyelids softly folding over his pretty blue eyes.

You wonder what he looks like under that green mask, getting turned on by the thought of not knowing. Of letting this stranger fuck you for just stumbling into your room on the right night at the right time. You and your friends have all talked about how sexy it is that someone like Kick-Ass is out there patrolling the streets with that body in that tight green suit of his, but you never thought he would be in here letting you make soft pink kisses down his throat.

His mouth lets out lazy moans as you kiss him there, touching him in all the right places, your hands soft and warm, taking him tenderly with a mix of quick little bites and sucks here and there. You keep him on his toes, keep him wanting more, keep moving your pussy on that hard cock of his only every few seconds to keep him from getting to carried away.

“God, I don’t know if I can take more,” He whimpers out, his hands on your ass, taking handfuls and shaking it.

“Don’t cum until I tell you,” You whisper in his ear, your breath hot and ticklish. “You got that, superhero?”

Dave gulps, eyebrows pulling together as he tries to mind, tries to be good boy, and bites his lip as you work downward, your kisses leaving a trail of pink lipstick down his gentle abs. You slide down, letting your body move until your mouth comes to the edge of his waistband. Slowly, you slip your long nails underneath, pulling his boxers back until his cock pops out with a satisfying bob.

You hesitate for a second, a first for you for tonight. You could feel how big it was underneath the black boxers he wore, but you had no idea it was THAT big. It wasn’t exactly length that scared you, not to say that it wasn't well endowed, but it was the girth that really frightened you. You wondered how you would get your lipstick-messy lips around it, if it would even fit. It made your mouth water in anticipation.

“Is it…” Dave sighs out, moving up onto his elbows to look down at you between his legs. “Is it okay?”

You realize you’ve just been staring at his cock, and your face heats up slightly.

“Oh it’s more than okay.” You say with a smirk, your hand wrapping around it and giving it a light stroke or two.

Dave’s eyes close as you do this, his lips parting as his breath picks up once more.

“Your hands feel so good,” He admits, enjoying himself as you continue, your tongue going to his base and licking back up to the tip, causing him to shudder.

You take his thick, hard tip into your mouth, letting your tongue swirl circles around it while sucking lightly. Dave’s hands grip the bed further, it’s so hard for him not to force his cock all the way in and cum down your throat immediately, it’s all he wants in the world right now, but the way you look up at him with your big doe eyes tells him to wait, to savor every moment your warm mouth is wrapped around his cock leaving pink glittery stains on it.

You let his cock fill your mouth further, taking it in slowly, inch by inch until he’s hitting the back of your throat. You moan softly as you slide it further, his cock just barely fitting, your moan cut off the deeper he goes. You bat your pretty eyelashes at him as you take it deeper and deeper until your nose is against his stomach.

“F-fuck, don’t move,” He stutters out, hand reaching out to grip your hair. “If you move I’m going to cum.”

You say nothing, his hot, hard cock down your throat, throbbing lightly with how badly he wants to cum. You can barely breathe, but you take it, take him forcing your head to stay down until he’s ready. Just when you think you’ll actually suffocate does his hand loosen on your head. You pull back, spit soaking his cock and stringing back to your mouth as you catch a breath.

“God, I’m sorry I’m just so sensitive…” Dave apologizes, feeling bad for keeping you there so long.

You shake your head, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and smiling.

“I kind of like it when you get a little rough…” You say with a smirk, and Dave can’t believe it.

You stand up from in between his legs, and hold out your hand. He takes it, letting you pull him to his feet and take him back to the window. You’re sure your friends have already left, but that doesn’t mean you don’t want him to fuck you against the window for the world to see just who takes Kick-Ass’s cock.

“Are-are you sure?” Dave can tell what you’re gearing up to do, bend over with your ass out and waiting for him.

“Fuck me,” You exhale, your breath fogging up the glass. “I want everyone to know what a dirty slut I am for superhero cock.”

Even though the thought of himself being on such display frightens him, Dave can’t say no to your juicy ass wiggling and inviting him. He takes his hands on either side of your hips, his cock moving up against your already wet hole, and he slowly enters you. You can’t help yourself but to moan out as you take his thick, girthy cock inch by inch, Dave carefully stretching you out to accommodate.

“You like that?” He wants you to like it so badly, so desperate to please you even though all he wants to do is fuck you like an animal right now.

“Yes,” You moan out, your tits against the cool glass, nipples erect. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

That’s all it takes for Dave to have the courage to really give it to you. He slides back out, slamming back in as deep as he can, your body rattling against the window as he does.

“Oh, fuck!” You exclaim, not realizing just how much of a pounding you would take from him.

He thrusts into you with a fury, slightly sloppy and uncoordinated from lack of experience, but fuck, your pussy just feels so good. He can’t believe how warm, wet, and tight it is, how deep he can get, how much he wants to fill you up there. You know you should have probably made him wear a condom, but you can’t help how much you love raw cock inside of you, and at least you’re on birth control.

Dave’s moans are uncontrollable, his hands gripping your ass until you’re sure there will be bruises. He needs this, needs you so badly it practically hurts. His mouth is full of moans, breaths, and curses as he tries not to let himself cum in an embarrassingly quick way. It’s so hard for him to stop like this, to edge himself inside of you while you let the world see your tits pressed against the glass of your window and your ass taking a pounding from behind.

“God, you’re such a dirty slut,” Dave whimpers out, thinking about how he’s heard something similar in all the porn he watches, hoping you’ll like it.

“Mhhhm, please make me your dirty little cum dump,” You respond, letting him know you want him to keep going.

“I’m going to fuck my load so deep inside you,” He pants, the words harsh and sharp. “And everyone’s going to see what a whore you are for me.”

You can’t help yourself, it’s just too good right now, so you snake your hand between your legs, your fingers circling your already aching clit. You know you’ve already cum once tonight, but how often does one get to be fucked by someone like this?

Dave’s hand reaches out, taking your hair into his hand and gripping it.

“You like that? You wanna be fucked like a dirty little slut?” He can’t hold himself back much longer, his eyes closing as he enjoys the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his cock.

“Fuck, yes!” You moan as you feel him beginning to spill inside of you, your own pleasure not far behind. “Keep going!”

Dave can barely hold back, he grips you tighter and grits his teeth as he waits for you to finish. You take every stroke like a good girl, your muscles tight and ready for release again. You quicken your hand, holding your breath while you get closer and closer to cumming.

“Don’t stop, I’m so close!” You whimper against the glass, the thought off all those people down there watching you come undone turning you on even more.

You let bliss begin to take over as his cock hits just the right spots deep inside you, your fingers rapidly keeping pace. You breathe out, your moans uncontrollable and whiny as you feel your cunt tighten around him. Dave can’t take it anymore, his cock thrusting deeper as he feels you cum around it. He spills inside of you, hot cum filling you up exactly where you need it to, the sensation of it happening while you cum at the same time almost making your eyes roll back. Your toes curl as he presses you against the window, cock rutting against you as if he can’t get deep enough. You can feel it throbbing inside of you, finishing off it’s last few spurts of cum before Dave collapses against you, leaving you pinned between him and the window.

You wouldn’t have wanted tonight to end any other way.

For a few moments all you both hear is the sound of your breathing, of your own heart racing in your ears, Dave’s ears losing hearing before the world becomes too real again.

Dave feels that shame of fucking you too hard, too publically, building up inside of him. He wonders if he went too hard, and he finds your ear, kissing right behind it and whispering.

“Was that okay? Did you like that?” His voice is soft as he checks in on you, making sure everything was alright.

You can barely talk, the feeling of Daves massive cock still inside of you, the rush of the whole thing dying down slowly. Your muscles feel useless, and you think if Dave wasn’t pinning you to the window, you would have collapsed right to the floor. The thought of moving anything right now seems like too much.

“Yeah,” You finally breathe out. “It was very good…”

Dave feels relieved to hear that, and slowly he catches on just how exhausted you are. He slowly pulls out of you, his hot cum leaving a trail down your bare legs as he does so. His hands wrap around your center, and he softly lifts you, turning and taking you back towards the bed. You let him do as he pleases, and soon he’s got the covers pull back and you on his chest, breathing softly as you begin to drift off.

You don’t know where Kick-Ass goes in the morning, but what you do know is that you whenever you leave your window open, he’s there to pleasure your every need from now on…

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 2: The Neglect

The drive to the airport only made you feel more nervous about living here; you’ve only ever known Goodsprings, a town so small you could see everything in less than an hour, and now here’s a giant city that makes you feel like an ant. Even Vegas seems small to Gotham. And if their size wasn’t bad enough, the buildings’ weird stone creatures looked like they were waiting to fly off and scoop you up.

Luckily, your Daddy’s house is outside the city, surrounded by a wall with large fields behind them. It made you feel a little better that you wouldn’t be surrounded by so many people all the time.

“And here we are, Master Y/N,” mr. Pennyworth says as he pulls up in front of the massive mansion.

You get out and start to feel even more nervous. This isn’t a house, it’s a castle! Like the ones Momma showed you when she was researching stuff for her books. You’d probably need a map just to find the bathroom!

But, Mr. Pennyworth climbs up the stairs to the front door and you don’t want to make him mad, so you follow behind him. He opens the door and you’re inside a massive room with a giant grand staircase with a long red rug leading up to a second level that you can see leads to other places in the mansion.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, Master Y/N. If you’ll follow me to your room, please.”

He leads you to the second level and down a few hallways to a room on the other side of the mansion. As you walk, you can’t help but think that all of Goodsprings could live here and there still be lots of room left.

“I apologize for the walk, but as Master Wayne and I have been the only two long term residents of the manor, the rooms meant for the family have not been in a suitable state for quite some time. And since it’s been some time since we’ve had guests stay over, the usual guest rooms have been repurposed for storage. I’m working on having one of the family bedrooms ready for you as soon as possible so you’ll be close to your father.”

“It’s alright,” you say, your voice almost a whisper. You really didn’t expect the butler to be so nice to you. “Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.”

He frowns a bit, but says nothing before opening the door to reveal a room smaller than your one back home. A bed sits in the far corner of the room with a dresser directly in front of it, a big tv sitting on top of it. There’s a door to the right where you enter the room.

“That door leads to your bathroom, Master Y/N. We have some time before the movers come with your belongings. Would you like to see the rest of the manor?”

“No, thank you. I think I wanna sleep after we put everything up.”

“Of course, you must be exhausted. If you want, I can handle collecting the boxes while you rest. I can leave them outside your door for you to deal with later.”

“I can help, Mr. Pennyworth.”

He seems a little surprised that you insisted on helping, but he says nothing before leading you back outside where a delivery truck stops behind the car. Since all you had was a few cardboard boxes that had nothing but clothes, toys, stuffed animals, books, and decorations, it didn’t take long to bring it all to your room and set everything up. As you look at your new room with all your stuff in it, you can’t help but feel like none of it belongs here.

That you don’t belong here.

“Do you need anything else, Master Y/N? Perhaps something to eat?”

“No thank you, Mr. Pennyworth. I just wanna sleep.”

“Very good. But just know, when you wake up, you will be eating something.”

You just nod and close the door, turning off the lights before crawling into bed. As you get settled, you can’t help but notice how cold the house feels. Yeah, you’re not in Nevada anymore, where it can go over a hundred degrees in the summer, but it’s like the house blocks any kind of heat, leaving only the cold. You close your eyes and drift off to sleep.

You wake up, dreaming of your Momma yelling for you and being in a car when something slams into you, and when you look around your room, you’re greeted by absolute darkness. As if the sun had completely disappeared. You jump out of bed and rush to the light switch, slapping it. When the lights come on, you realize that the lightbulb above you is dim and without the sun, it barely lights up your room. Wanting to be where it’s bright, you run out of your room and down the hall only to find the rest of the house is just as dim as your room, almost like no one in this house likes the light. Your little legs carry you down the same route you took earlier today and fortunately, the foyer is completely lit up by a giant crystal chandelier.

You run down the stairs and into another hall near the staircase. You pass by large room after large room and finally find yourself in a fancy kitchen, Mr. Pennyworth standing in front of a giant refrigerator.

“Master Y/N,” he says. “Are you alright?”

“Yes sir,” you say, not wanting to worry the man.

“But you’re out of breath. And you’re sweating.”

It’s then you notice that your forehead is slick with sweat and your chest is heaving. When you look up at the butler, you can tell he’s obviously worried about you.

“I got scared,” you admit. “I woke up and it was so dark.”

“I would imagine since it’s nighttime.” You jump a little at that. “You’ve been asleep for over twelve hours. I would’ve waken you up, but you looked like you needed the rest.”

“I haven’t slept so good since Momma…” You can’t bring yourself to say it. “Left.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about, my boy.” He walks over to you and bends down to your height. “I could tell that you and your Mother were close and losing her so sudden is something no one so young should go through. I know that she can never be replaced, but I promise you that Master Bruce and I will be here for you and will help you with whatever you need.”

You feel the empty feeling that’s been with you since Momma died shrink just a little bit. Maybe you aren’t as alone as you thought.

“Alfred,” a deep voice lungs from behind you. You both look back to see a tall man with black hair and blue eyes standing in the hall. “I’m about to head out.”

“Master Bruce,” Mr. Pennyworth says, standing up. “This is Master Y/N. He’s awoke from his nap just a moment ago.”

You feel your heart stop at the man’s name. This is your Daddy? A million different questions swirled around in your head, like what was he like, what’s his favorite thing to do, did he remember your Momma?

He looks down at you. “Oh,” he says, a blank look on his face. “Hello.” With that, he turns around and begins walking down the hall. “I’ll be in touch, Alfred. From the sound of it, it’s gonna be a busy night.”

You feel your heart split in two at the way he just completely ignored you. Did you do something wrong? But you didn’t even say anything!How can he be bad at you if you haven’t said anything? You do your best to not cry as you look up at Mr. Pennyworth, who’s very angry.

“I’m sorry, Master Y/N. I know he’s throwing himself into his work to deal with Master Jason’s death, but that behavior is absolutely unacceptable. I’ll make sure he apologizes for that in the morning.”

Unfortunately, your Daddy didn’t say he was sorry when you woke up that morning. In fact, he wasn’t there when Mr. Pennyworth brought you down for breakfast, his work said there was someone important at one of his offices outside the country, so he hopped in his plane long before you woke up.

You were hurt, but Mr. Pennyworth said that he’d make sure that when things calmed down, you and your Daddy would have a long talk. You could do nothing but nod, trying not to cry because all you wanted was your Momma to walk through the door and take you back home. You got even more lonely when you started your new school, Gotham Academy, which is where all of Gotham’s rich people send their kids; Goodsprings Elementary wasn’t even half the size of this school and to make things worse, you had no friends here. That’s not to say that people didn’t want to talk to you, somehow news got out that you, the love child between Bruce Wayne and some unknown woman, were attending Gotham Academy, older and younger students shared your the moment you walked through the door. Hearing them ask you about your Momma only made you miss her more, so you stayed quiet.

They found something new to latch on to later in the week when your Daddy adopted Tim Drake, a boy whose parents were just as well known as him; his parents were killed in a plane crash and Daddy took him in. When they found out that the famous Tim Drake was now the adoptive son of Bruce Wayne, you were forgotten about. They asked him what Wayne Manor was like, how’d he feel to be adopted by Bruce Wayne, and other questions you didn’t really understand.

You were excited about Tim joining the family, though; you often wonder what having a brother would be like and you two were very close in age. It would be nice to have someone other than Mr. Pennyworth to talk to. Maybe the two of you could play Pokémon together!

You walked up to him the day Mr. Pennyworth told you that he’d be living at the manor with you, excited to get to know your newest family member, but that excitement quickly died when he took one look at you and walked away, like you weren’t interesting to him. You tried over and over to get him to like you, to get him to play with you, to at least look at you, but he just pushed you away (very harshly). And if things weren’t bad enough, he and Daddy spent every night together, locked away in the library.

It wasn’t fair! You were here first and had yet to talk to him, but Tim gets to spend time with him! And every time you tried to join, they just pushed you away, like you were some kind of fly buzzing around them. When that door closed, you wouldn’t see them until the next morning, so they were probably watching movies in there or something just as fun. You lived with three other people and you somehow felt more alone than ever since Momma died.

You met Dick a year later, around the anniversary of Momma’s death. At first, you were excited because Mr. Pennyworth said he was very friendly and had grown up in a circus before being adopted by Daddy, so he could do all sorts of tricks. Maybe you’d finally have a friend who wasn’t the butler.

Unfortunately, this ended in disappointment, too. Sure, it started off nice, he greeted you warmly (at least more warmly than your Daddy or Tim had) and ruffled your hair. You were so happy, you thought you’d explode. Finally, you had someone that you can spend time with.

“Dick,” your daddy said in his usual tone less voice.

“Sorry, baby bird, gotta go! We’ll hang out soon, though, promise!”

“Soon” never came though. He came over a few times during the day to spend time with Tim, either helping him with homework or taking him to Bat Burger, but never you. He always said that he promised to hang out with Tim and he’d do the same with you, but after the fifth time it happened, you stopped trying. He also spend time with Tim and your Daddy in the library at night, none of them coming out for the rest of the night.

Barbara came into your life little bit after Dick. When you saw her rolling in her wheelchair, you felt bad and offered to push her around. She snapped at you, saying she was fine and didn’t need your help. That was the first, last, and only time you talked to her. When you saw her spending time with your “family” in the library, you weren’t even hurt because you had grown used to it.

Cassandra and Stephanie came in around the same time when you nine. Cassandra was a burst of energy and it actually surprised you; Wayne Manor seemed to cancel out all noise and forced anyone inside it to be silent (at least that how it was for you) and she seemed to be happy to meet you. That lasted all of a week, though, and she quickly lost interest like a puppy that had grown up and was no longer cute to its owners.

Stephanie looked at you once, like he was trying to solve some mystery, and that was it. Alfred told you that she was mute and you did your best to learn ASL to better communicate with her. You picked up some of the basics, but not enough to carry on an actual conversation, so you opted to carry a little notepad with you so she could write things down, but when she kept ignoring you in favor of interacting with the rest of the family, you got the message. And when she and Stephanie spent time with your “family” in the library night after night, you stopped referring to Bruce as your Daddy. It was clear he didn’t want the title.

You had Alfred, anyway. Spending nights baking, helping him with his chores, and talking about your day over tea was enough for you.

Jason came back (from the dead) when you were ten. You met him when you caught him trying to sneak into the mansion through a window instead of coming through the door like a normal person (then again, you’ve long since realized that no one in this place is normal. Except Alfred.). Your meeting ended when he gave you a black eye and told you to stay away from him when all you did was say hi. You cried the entire night because you had school pictures the next day. It was a while before Jason started making regular appearances, but when he did, you weren’t surprised to see him spending nights in the library. When he glared at you, his blue eyes turning green, you asked Alfred to let you eat in your room and the man agreed to bring your meals to you.

When you were fifteen, the last one of join the Wayne Family was your biological brother, Damian. And the day you two met, you became convinced he only existed to make your pathetic life a living hell because the moment Alfred introduced you to him, he pulled an actual sword on you, giving you a small scar on your left cheek. You could do nothing but fall on your ass and look up in horror as this ten-year-old boy from hell raised his sword, spouting some nonsense about him being the “true blood son,” that you were “nothing more than the son of a harlot,” and how he will “be the one to inherit his father’s legacy.” For a moment, you thought you were about to be killed by the little bastard when Bruce appeared from out of nowhere and carried him off, Damian shouting threats and insults at you the entire time.

“Sorry about that, Y/N,” Dick said as he helped you up. “Are you ok?”

“What do you think,” you shouted at him. “That monster just sliced my face with a sword and tried to kill me!”

“Hey, don’t call him a monster,” he responded, give you a look of disappointment. “He had a difficult upbringing and he’s having to get used to Gotham and living with us. You should try to be a good big brother and support him.”

For a moment, you thought you suffered from a stroke and had misheard him, but the look on his face said you heard him correctly.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? He tries to kill me and I’m suppose to just let it go?”

“There’s no need for that kind of language, Y/N.”

You deemed the “conversation” a lost cause and leave, Dick calling out to you before going to the wing that holds the master bedrooms. Fortunately, Bruce kept bringing in other people to be a part of this demented family, so you were stuck with the tiny guest room that didn’t even have a window. But, it was far away from them, so it was a good trade.

After that, it seemed like Damian made it his mission in life to make your life hell. You couldn’t pass by him without him insulting you, hurting you, or bringing up your Momma, which would lead to you crying your eyes out. And when he started collecting pets, he would send them after you, Titus and Alfred the Cat chasing you throughout the manor, forcing you to barricade yourself in your room.

That leads to today: you accidentally dropped your Momma’s pen while walking to the kitchen and unfortunately, Damian was around the corner, watching the entire thing. He was able to move faster than your eyes could follow and before you knew it, he had swooped down and grabbed it just as you were about to. You look up in horror as he stares down at you with his usual smug and condescending expression as he waves the pen around, clearly mocking you.

“Your reflexes are slow and pathetic, inferior. You’re a massive disappointment to the Wayne bloodline.” He stares at the pen with disgust. “While this pen is poorly made and lacks any craftsmanship, it’s still more than a failure like you deserves.”

You stand up to your full height, trying to ignore the burning desire to tackle the little brat and bash his stupid head in. “Give that back to me. Now.” You realize you’re practically grinding your teeth to powder.

“I don’t take orders from you, inferior,” he bites back, his green eyes glaring at you. “You’re far beneath me. I come from two perfect bloodlines and that makes me superior to you by rite of birth. Your whore of a mother somehow managed to slither her way into my father’s bed and bring you into the world. You might have Wayne blood, but your tainted blood dilutes it.” He gets in your personal space nod even when looking up at you, he still tries to assert whatever dominance he thinks he has. “We will never be equals.”

You use this opportunity to grab the arm holding your Momma’s pen. As expected, he does not take kindly to this.

“You dare lay your hands on me,” he screeches, wrenching his hand away.

You don’t know how, but the little shit has impressive strength. Sure, you’re not an athlete (you’ve stayed roughly the same height since you hit puberty and can’t build muscle mass to save your life), but he shouldn’t have this kind of upper body strength! But, you’re determined to reclaim the pen, so you grab his hand with your other one and start pulling with all your might, doing whatever you can to break his grasp of it.

“Let go of me, you filthy interloper!” With a big tug, he breaks your grip and you can only look on in terror as he walks over to the kitchen window. “If you want this pen so much, you can look for it out there!” In a flash, he opens the nearby kitchen window and hurls your pen outside, where a massive downpour drenches the yard.

You can’t help but look on as it flies far from the mansion and out of your field of vision; on the ground, you see a ripple in the middle of the massive lake of rainwater and mud that the storm has created over the last three days of nonstop rain, indicating that your precious pen is now underwater.

In that moment, you feel nothing but immense sadness at your pen’s loss and unbridled rage at the one who did caused it. Every last thing he’s done to you flood your mind and you feel your face becomes incredibly flushed, your vision goes blood red in rage, and hot, angry tears stream from your eyes; before you know it, you’re right behind him, his back still turned to you from throwing your pen.

“You son of a bitch,” you shout at the top of your lungs, causing him to turn his head as you quickly deliver a swift backhand to his left check, the sound of your hand striking him echoing in the kitchen.

You know he shouts something back, but you’re so filled with rage that his words fail to reach your ears. You know he’ll retaliate and probably get in trouble with Bruce and Dick, but you don’t care. You’re pissed off and want nothing more than to inflict even a small amount of pain onto him, so that he’d feel even an ounce of what he’s made you feel since you two met. Using your height advantage, you grab both his shoulders and with all your rage-enhanced strength, you shove him to the floor, loving the sight of him wincing when he lands on his rear, but instead of looking up at you in fear like you wanted, he has a pissed off look.

Realizing that finding your pen is more important than dealing with him, you sprint to the door, throw it open, and dash into the rain, not caring that your clothes were completely soaked after only a few seconds and the wind froze you to the core. All that matters is finding that pen, the only piece of Momma that you were able to take with you, something so precious to her she refused to go anywhere without it.

Except that day, when she was taken from you and your life fell apart.

You wade through the many puddles, your socks providing no support so you stumble and fall, getting even more wet. But you pick yourself up and keep running until your at the puddle far from the house and that’s when you get on your hands and knees and start waving around hoping to touch even a little bit of the metal. You feel nothing, but you don’t let up, moving around the puddle, not caring that you’re getting more and more soaked with every second and that mud is slathered over your arms and legs.

“Come on,” you shout to yourself, getting more and more upset. “Come on, where are you?”

Finally, you feel something small, metallic, and cylindrical. You latch onto it like a lifeline and pull it up so hard the force of it makes you fall on your back, the puddle covering your entire body. You quickly sit up to see Momma’s pen. Wet and covered in mud, sure, but it’s back where it belongs. Now that the urge to find it is over, your senses quickly catch up and your realize your freezing, shivering, and soaked to the bone.

You run back to the mansion and when you close the door, you see that everyone is in the kitchen, all their eyes on you. You look at Bruce and see him mad, you look at Damian and see a shit-eating grin, and you look at Dick and see disapproval.

“Did you slap Damian when all he did was ask you for a pen,” Bruce asks.

That little shit’s convinced them this is all your fault. Of course, you should’ve known that he’d make you the bad guy and deflect any blame on his part.

“He didn’t ’ask,’ he took—“

“But you did slap him over a pen,” Bruce cuts you off.

“Yes, but—“

“Wow, I’ve done some petty shit, but this beats all,” Jason mocks, acting like this was some show and not you being ganged up on.

“That’s so uncalled for, Y/N,” Dick chides you. “There’s no need for you put your hands on Damian, especially for something so small.”

Your breath hitches and all you want is for the floor to open up and swallow you whole. They say nothing to you and ignore your existence for years and now, the one time they notice and speak to you, it’s to do this?

“Master Bruce,” Alfred interjects. “You’re not being fair. I believe that pen—“

“Alfred, it doesn’t matter what’s so special about the damn thing, it’s just a pen.” He holds his hand out to you. “Give it to me. Damian asked for it and after that you just did, he’s going to get it.”

You see Damian’s grin grow and your rage comes back.

“Hell no,” you mutter, slipping it into your pocket. You see everyone’s eyes widen while Bruce’s frown gets more intense at your defiance.

“What did you just say?”

You can tell he’s pissed at you defying him. Oh well, you’ve already dug your grave, what’s adding a few more feet to it gonna do?

“I said hell no!”

“Oh, man,” Jason cackles. “You done fucked up, kid!”

“Go to your room,” Bruce says with clenched teeth. “You’re grounded.”

You quickly leave the room, wanting to put as much room between them and you as possible. As you leave, you hear them talking about you, asking what’s wrong with you, how childish you are, and other stuff you really don’t want to hear right now. When you close your door behind you, the dam breaks and you fall to your knees, letting out a wail and allowing tears to stream from your eyes like a waterfall. The last time you cried this hard was when you were told Momma had died and it’s in this moment you wish you had been in the car with her now more than ever.

A knock at the door brings you back to your harsh and uncaring reality.

“Master Y/N,” Alfred calls from the other side. “May I come in?” You get up and open the door. “Oh, my dear boy.”

You allow him to come in and he closes the door behind him before bringing you into a tight hug, which is when you resume your crying.

“I hate them,” you shout in between sobs. “I hate them all!”

“I know,” he says. “I tried to tell them after you left the room, but they wouldn’t listen.”

“Alfred,” you say, pulling yourself together enough to talk coherently. “When I turn eighteen, I’m going back to Goodsprings.”

He pulls away and looks at you. “I understand why you feel that way, but it’s been ten years since you left, Master Y/N. If you go back there, you’ll be alone.”

“I’m alone here, Alfred!” You pull away from him. “Ever since I came here, they’ve made it clear that I’m unwelcome here! That I don’t belong here! At least back home, I’ll be surrounded by memories of Momma.”

“But this has been your home for ten years.”

“This isn’t my home, Alfred. It never was and it never will be.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but decides against it. Instead, he pulls you back into another hug. “I understand. I’ll miss you dearly, but if going back will make you happy, I’ll wish you all the best.”

You can do nothing but cry. You’ll miss Alfred, the only good thing to come out of going to live in this godforsaken city and this manor from hell, but when you need to get out of here. The sooner you leave Gotham and get back to Goodsprings, the better you’ll be.

A/N: thank you all so much for the likes and comments on chapter one! I really didn’t think that so many people would like it, but here we are! I hope you all continue to enjoy this series!

Tag list: @minkyungseokie @solelifauna @nosyrobin

[anotherbananasong]

Promises You Made to Me (2/4)

It’s time for Air to face the clergy alone…

“Nervous” doesn’t begin to cover how Air feels. The pressure from his corset barely comforts him. He’s had Earth at his side almost every moment, day and night, since they mated. Earth is his comfort; he doesn’t know what he will do without him. Earth accompanies him right up to the doors.

Earth: (running a comforting hand over Air’s chest) It’ll be okay, skybird. I promise, I’ll be right out here until you come out. I won’t leave.

Air: (eyes already beginning to water) I don’t want to…

Earth: (reaches up and wipes his tear) Remember, Secondo said not to let them see. (takes Air’s hands in his own, placing a kiss on his fingers) Promise me you won’t say anything that will send you back to the Pits. Okay?

Air: I promise.

As usual, the clergy is seated at their raised podium. Even with their size, the Ancients still have to look up to see them. And to Air’s horror, Sister is right there in the middle. He’s never been able to look her in the face; she strikes such fear in him that he can’t maintain eye contact. Had it been just the clergy, like usual, he may have been able to hold himself together a little better. But not with Sister actually making an appearance.

Sister: (after a disarming silence) This whole “kit” business… Whose idea was it?

Air: (heart sinks from his chest; he knows he was the first to bring it up. but admitting it would send him back to the Pits. and he promised Earth) …

Sister: (narrowing her eyes, satisfied with the discomfort she can see in Air’s glowing eyes) Don’t make this difficult, ghoul.

Air: (even worse, if he says anything that may put Earth in trouble, Earth may be the one going back to the Pits) …

Sister: (flicking imaginary dust from her sleeve) I’m your friend. You wouldn’t want to make your friend mad, would you?

Air: (feeling his lungs tighten with anxiety; he couldn’t answer even if he wanted to) …

Sister: (gives Air a long silence to build the tension) You want to tell me, ghoul. You know I have ways to get my answer. You don’t want me to have to take drastic measures.

Air: (looks down at the floor) …

Sister drills him for forty minutes, alternating between demanding he answer and leaving him in frightened silence. It’s effective, despite Air’s continued mutism. As he sweats where he stands, Sister can see that he’s weak. He’s always been the weakest of Secondo’s ghouls. She may not interact with him often, but she knows what will break him.

Sister: (after the forty minutes of Air’s silence) Tell you what, ghoul; we have a lovely room for you. You can stay there until you’re ready to talk to your friend.

Air: (Secondo said “don’t let them see”, but he can’t help the tears at Sister’s new threat. what does that mean?)

Sister: I’ll have someone take you there, and you can think about your answer. Take your time; I’m a patient woman.

Outside the doors, Earth is pacing. He can feel Air’s torment through their mating bond, but Air is closed off from the comfort and encouragement Earth is attempting to send to him through it. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but it feels like it’s been years. He finally sits on a bench and focuses on trying to reach Air through the bond, trying to send him a wave of his love. He almost jumps when the meeting room door opens, but his stomach sinks when it’s not Air coming out the doors.

Sister: (businesslike and matter-of-fact) Return to your dorm. He won’t be joining you.

Earth: (didn’t know Sister herself was in that room; no wonder Air was so afraid) What do you mean? What does that mean?

Sister: You don’t need to ask questions; you just need to obey.

Earth: What does that mean, he’s not joining me?

Sister: (tilts her head, giving him a glance over) He has to think about some things. He’ll be staying up here for now. Return to the catacombs, ghoul.

Earth: (rises from the bench) Why is he staying up here? He has to come back with me… Why is he staying up here? What are you going to do to him?

Sister: I said no questions.

Earth: (Secondo said to protect his mate… this isn’t protecting him) No, tell me. Tell me why he’s staying up here. What’s going on? You let him out of there. He’s coming home with me.

Sister: (treating him to one of her terrifying smiles as he approaches her) Don’t ask questions, ghoul; you’ll make this more difficult for him. Choose your actions wisely.

Earth: (considers a million things all at once) … (hisses in warning, a promise that he will retaliate if they harm his mate, and turns to go back to the catacombs. alone)

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: don’t even ask what this is because i have no explanation 🙈 i’m just out here obsessing over mat and squeaks always. and in a happy coincidence it’s barzy days (13) to the season opener!

word count: 2.3k

tw: pregnancy, mutual masturbation, dirty talk

summary: in your second trimester, you’re constantly worked up and desperate for mat, in any shape or form

Lately, by the time Mat gets home from a game you’re fast asleep, buried under a thick down comforter with pillows wedged all around your body so you won’t roll over onto your back.

It’s an extra precaution, since your doctor informed you that you don’t have to worry about staying off of your back while you sleep until later in your pregnancy. You’re only fifteen weeks, with a tiny little bump to your lower stomach, so you could comfortably sleep on your back with no problem, but you’d decided to try and get used to sleeping on your side as early as possible. As a stomach sleeper, this is the hardest part of pregnancy so far.

It’s easier when Mat’s in bed with you, curled up against his side and using him as a human body pillow.

He always tries to slip into bed quietly after his shower and most of the time, he’s successful.

But tonight you’re not as deeply asleep as usual, overly warm and twitchy under the covers. You’re in and out of sleep, face buried in Mat’s pillow, until you hear him creep into the bedroom and go straight for the shower. He’s already showered at the rink post-game, you know, but something about the soap they keep stocked there makes you nauseous, even into your second trimester. So, second shower with the good smelling home soap for Mat it is.

The bathroom door is only partially closed and you can hear the water turn on, his shuffling around and getting undressed. You shift, thighs pressing together, warm from the inside out.

All you can think about is Mat in the shower, naked and wet, and you feel about as horny as a sixteen-year-old boy.

As if Mat hadn’t licked you to an extremely satisfying orgasm just this morning.

Your hand slides down your stomach, dipping under the hem of your sweats, finding the sensitive bud of your clit. Huffing an impatient breath, you draw a quick, tight circle around it, wet and achy. Everything south of your belly button is heightened with extra blood flow, your cunt throbbing and slick.

“Ugh,” you grunt into the pillow, arousal dripping around your fingers and thighs like a faucet. You don’t want to get out of bed, don’t want to move any more than you have to, but all you can think about is Mat in the shower and your body moves on autopilot. The covers get flung back and you swing your legs out of bed, wiping your wet fingers on the outside of your thigh.

Mat jumps when you sneak into the bathroom, one hand smacking against the tiled wall. “Fuck,” he yelps, blinking water from his eyes. “Scared the shit out of me, I thought you were asleep.”

You shake your head and shrug, “I was, sort of. Like in and out of it, you know.”

You lean against the countertop and watch Mat through the steamed glass. He rubs a soapy hand over his chest and you blink slowly, feeling yourself drip even more. Soap slides down his chest, onto his stomach, further down and you watch its path hungrily.

Mat’s laugh echoes around the bathroom and you startle, shaking yourself slightly and crossing your arms over your chest to try and ground yourself.

“Huh?” You ask stupidly, realizing that he was talking the entire time that you were ogling him.

“I was saying,” he wipes a hand over the glass to clean it, giving you a better look at the shit eating grin on his face and the way his hair is slicked back with shampoo off his forehead, “you’re looking at me like I’m a fucking steak.”

“I can’t help it,” you whine, too horny to be embarrassed. “All my hormones are crazy.”

“Don’t blame the hormones,” Mat shakes his head, pushing the shower door open slightly. “Hop in and I’ll take care of my girl.”

Your entire body flushes, desperate for Mat’s touch, but you wrinkle your nose and shake your head. “I’m all warm and dry,” you counter, exhausted but wired. “I don’t wanna take off my sweats.”

Mat laughs at you again and you pout. “Squeaks, baby, how am I going to help you if you keep your pants on?” He ducks his head under the spray and rinses shampoo from his hair.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, dipping your hand back under the waistband of your sweats. Your fingers brush against the elastic of your panties and you exhale harshly. “I want you to make me come while I’m warm and cozy and not in the shower.”

You know you sound insane and based on the absolute flood between your legs, you need to get in the shower anyway so you don’t wake up all sticky and uncomfortable. The warring desires of comfy and horny are fighting it out in your body and you’re not sure who’ll win.

Mat grunts and you know he has to be tired, it’s late and he’d played his heart out in a grinding overtime win. You should just get in the shower with him and let him fuck you hard and fast the way you need, but you’re feeling bratty and playful, despite the late hour. You lean harder against the marble counter and watch through the steam and glass as Mat’s hand grips his cock. It hadn’t been hard before, but you can see it thickening in his grip.

“This is what we’re gonna do,” he says, drawing your attention back to his face. His hand works lazily over his cock. “Since you worked me up too, you’re going to push your pants down to your knees - stop, I know you’re comfortable,” he interjects over your faint protest, “and I’m going to tell you exactly how you’re going to get yourself off while I take care of business in here.”

He pauses, grins wickedly at you, and continues, “unless you want to hop in with me.”

“I’m keeping my sweatshirt on,” you reply tartly, using your other hand to push the waistband of your sweats to your knees. Your panties follow and your bare cunt is exposed to the steamy bathroom air. You shiver, even though it’s not cold, and press your fingers against the wet skin of your inner thighs.

Mat wipes at the glass again, letting his gaze flicker down to where your fingers are tracing around your folds. He hasn’t told you what to do yet, so you’re behaving. For now.

“Shame,” he grins. “I like looking at your tits when I jack off. And the cute little curve of your belly that proves that you’re mine.”

His hand works over his cock, from base to tip where he runs his palm over the head, squeezing harshly before going back down over his shaft and balls. It’s been a while since you watched Mat jerk himself off, usually ready to lend a helping hand, so to speak, pretty quickly after he starts. Your breath hitches in your chest, watching his hand move and his cock harden. Pride bubbles up too, knowing that you’re the reason he’s getting hard and worked up.

“Mmm,” you hum, “use your imagination.”

Mat closes his eyes and you laugh, breath stuttering in your chest when he lets out an exaggerated, dramatic moan. “Got the best tits I’ve ever seen,” he replies cheekily. “I’d lick your nipples, bite them even though they’re all sensitive now, if you got in here with me.”

Your nipples tighten against your shirt, painful and sore, and you’d definitely like to get Mat’s mouth on them. “Finish your shower and come join me in bed,” you offer, thighs shaking the closer your fingers get to your clit. “We can be cozy, you can fuck me silly, like I want.”

“You came in here to tease me,” Mat counters. “I’m not letting you off that easy. Go ahead, baby, touch yourself. Let me see you drip down your thighs.”

“Oh thank god,” you mutter, delving your fingers between your legs and playing with your clit. You’re unbearably achy, sensitive to even the faintest touch, and the press of your fingers against your clit is like an electric shock. You exhale and slump against the counter, letting it hold your weight.

You can hear Mat’s hand roughly jerking his cock, grunting and groaning over the sound of the water. “Can hear you over here,” he rasps, “you’re so wet. Fucking love how wet and horny you are.”

“Nothing works like your cock, Mat,” you whine, two fingers sliding easily into your soaked entrance with a squelch. “Just want you to fill me all the time. I need you.”

“Every day,” he promises, his free hand splayed over the glass, forearm holding his weight. “I’ll give you as many fucking orgasms as you want, every damn day. Just, add another finger. G’head, fuck yourself for me.”

You add the third finger and curl them, trying to hit your g-spot while your thumb circles your clit. It’s only barely enough and you cry, whining for Mat.

“There you go,” he praises you in a strangled voice and you angle your neck to watch him stroke his cock. The head disappears into his fist and reappears, touching the shower door when Mat leans forward and leaving a smudge behind. “Almost there, I can tell. Play with your nipples, baby, pinch them for me.”

You instinctively try to spread your legs wider, but get stuck with the fabric around your knees and grumble, leaning over the counter to try and get your fingers even deeper.

“As soon as you come, baby,” Mat’s voice sounds like he’s grinning, “I’m gonna come and then I’ll take you to bed, fill your cunt with my cock and fuck you to sleep.”

“Yes, please, Mat,” you sigh, dragging your free hand up your stomach until you can twist your nipple, an electric spark coiling in your belly. It doesn’t take much more after that, your fingers pumping in and out of your cunt sloppily, Mat letting the dirty talk fly fast and loose, sending you over the edge of an orgasm, shouting his name and squirting all over your hand and the floor.

“Fuuuck,” Mat draws out the curse, “made such a mess, my girl. Look so goddamn gorgeous pregnant with my baby, gonna lick you clean, want a taste of you.” He trails off, muttering to himself, until he comes a few moments later, a guttural groan drawn from his chest. He makes his own mess, ropes of come all over the shower door and his stomach. You watch, eyes heavy and chest heaving, while Mat finishes, your gaze drawn to his twitching cock and the tendons flexing in his forearm.

He drops his head to rest against the glass, panting, and it’s enough to get you wet again. You start giggling, surprised at your body’s audacity to still be so hot for Mat even while you’re growing a baby. You’ve Googled, wondering if it’s normal to be this damn horny during pregnancy, and it’s honestly a relief to find that a higher sex drive is normal in the second trimester. You’d been halfway convinced that you were a nymphomaniac after your morning sickness had disappeared and you’d needed multiple orgasms a week from Mat, sometimes multiple a day.

“What’s funny?” He lifts his head and grabs the bar of soap to wash off again. His movements are languid now, slower and less deliberate.

You kick your legs out of your sweats and grab a washcloth out from under the sink, cleaning yourself up while you reply, “the fact that I literally am still so fucking horny right now. Morning sickness went away and I turn into a teenage boy.”

The shower turns off and Mat steps out, wrapping a towel around his waist. Your gaze tracks the droplets of water trailing down his chest and he laughs, watching you. “I don’t have a problem with it,” he reaches for your wrist, tugging you close so he can kiss you properly.

You’re still pantsless and the kissing isn’t helping anything. “Stop that,” you mutter, nudging at his chest with your knuckles. “If you keep that up, I’ll never let you sleep.”

“Maybe I don’t want to sleep,” he kisses you again, his thumb rubbing over your wrist bone.

“But I do,” you grumble, melting into him. Your body buzzes with energy, reacting to Mat’s touch. He smooths his free hand over your hip, fingertips tapping at your ass cheek. “I need sleep, Mat.”

Without even realizing it, Mat’s maneuvered you back into the bedroom. Your hands land on the towel knotted at his waist and you tug on the fabric. It’s tented slightly in the front and you could so easily have him slip inside of you. “One more,” you say, completely contradictory. You blame it on the hormones, your excuse for everything lately.

But then you yawn, jaw cracking loudly, and Mat smiles at you softly. “Bed,” he orders, wandering away to get you a fresh pair of underwear and pants. “No practice tomorrow, so if you’re still in the mood, we’ll make a lazy morning of it.”

You let Mat manhandle you into bed, pillows tucked behind your back and knees, suddenly exhausted. You settle easily back into the nest of blankets that you’d left behind, watching Mat drop his towel into the hamper and get dressed. “Ass out like that, makes it really hard for me to not want to bite you,” you comment around another yawn.

“Bite me tomorrow,” Mat chuckles and climbs into bed with you, submitting to being your human pillow. You drape your leg over his thigh and sigh happily when he wraps an arm around your shoulder and nestles you against his side.

You relax against him and Mat draws circles on your arm with his fingers, lulling you to sleep. You’re almost passed out until a thought occurs and you say, into the dark room, “can you go out for bagels tomorrow? I would kill for a bacon, egg, and cheese.”

“Anything you want, Squeaks,” Mat replies, amusement lacing his tone. “Now go to sleep.”

[allmoshnobrain]

𝖔𝖋 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖍𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

dean winchester x hunter!reader | word count: 1,7k | requests are open! send yours here

“Sam died, sweetheart,” he whispered, and your heart clenched at his words. Why did he have to call you that right now? “And I made a deal to bring him back. I had to.” “This isn’t funny,” you said, your voice trembling. “Dean, you can’t be serious.” “I’m serious,” he replied, his tone firm. “I wouldn’t lie. Not about this.”

✦ on this fic: dean winchester x reader, fem!reader but this part is pretty neutral, angst, s3 spn plot

✦ a/n: this is my first time writing a reader insert for the supernatural universe. this is super angsty, and other parts to this au may come in the future so feel free to shoot me an ask if you have any suggestions! hope u enjoy the read 🖤

Word travels fast in a hunter’s world.

In a job where information is everything, sharing what you know wasn’t just helpful, but also expected. So, when the Devil’s Gate opened and demons started pouring out everywhere, it didn’t take long before you heard about it. It didn’t come as a surprise when you heard Sam and Dean Winchester had been there when it happened, right in the middle of it. You knew the boys; you knew they had a knack for getting mixed up in every kind of mess that popped up, ever.

What did surprise you, though, was Dean showing up on your doorstep less than a month later.

You knew something was off the second you saw him. First, because he was alone, and honestly, you couldn’t remember ever seeing him without Sam around. But mostly, it was the look in his eyes. As soon as you opened the door, he smiled at you, but his eyes didn’t follow — there was a storm brewing in his green irises, one even he didn’t seem to notice.

“Dean,” you said, frowning as he stood in your doorway. “How did you…”

“Bobby told me,” he cut you off, like it was no big deal, not even waiting for you to finish asking how the hell did he know where you lived. Of course, Bobby had. You sighed — would’ve been nice if Bobby gave you a heads-up, but whatever. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, but… what’s going on?” you asked, stepping aside to let him into your little cabin. It wasn’t much — pretty small, tucked away from the town, and didn’t look like anything special from the outside. Inside, though, was another story. Your eyes flicked up to the devil’s trap right above the door, and you felt a wave of relief when Dean walked right under it. Okay, not possessed. That’s a start.

“Can’t I just pay a visit to an old friend?” he asked, and you raised an eyebrow. Sure, you’d crossed paths with Dean more than a few times — occupational hazard of being a hunter — but something about this felt off. It wasn’t like him to just show up without a reason, especially with everything that had gone down in the past few weeks.

“Dean, what’s wrong?” you pressed, not letting him off the hook. His smile faltered, quickly replaced by that familiar annoyed look he got when he didn’t want to talk about whatever was actually on his mind.

“Why does something have to be wrong?”

You rolled your eyes. “Because you never just drop by for no reason. Where’s Sam?”

“Not here,” he muttered, and you couldn’t help but scoff. “Look, I’m fine. Everything's fine.  Bobby just figured you’d wanna know what went down with the Colt and yellow-eyes…”

“I’ve got a phone,” you cut in, crossing your arms. 

Dean sighed, his usual swagger faltering for a second as he cleared his throat, almost like he was nervous. “And… maybe he also thought I could use some time away from hunting, just for a bit, you know? With someone I… I liked being around.”

He couldn’t even look at you when he said it, a slight blush creeping up his neck. It wasn’t the Dean you were used to seeing, and that made your heart skip in a way you weren’t entirely prepared for.

You blinked in surprise. Dean, shy? Around you, of all people? That was rare. You’d seen him flirt before — hell, he was good at it and he knew it. This wasn’t the Dean you were used to, but then again, he wasn’t exactly acting like his usual self today.

“You’re not a shapeshifter, are you?” you asked, slowly. He huffed.

“No, I’m not.”

“Mind if I check?” You grabbed the knife you always kept strapped to your thigh. Dean just shrugged, holding his hand out. You took it, his skin warm under your fingers, and pressed the iron blade against it until it drew blood. No reaction, a small twitch in his arm muscles the only sign he’d felt anything. 

“See?” he said, his voice a little rough. “Not a shapeshifter, not a demon, just good ol’ me.”

Alright then. As weird as it was, it looked like Dean Winchester had really shown up at your place just to… hang out? You glanced up at him, wiping your knife off on your jeans before sliding it back into its sheath.

“Sorry about that,” you muttered. “Come on, let me patch you up.”

“So,” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow as you finished wrapping the bandage around his hand. “What’ve you been up to? Working any cases?”

“Why do you wanna know? Weren’t you supposed to be taking a break from hunting for a few days?” you shot back, and he chuckled. You glanced up at him. “You know I don’t hunt as much as you guys. I mostly just keep an eye on this area. But it’s been pretty quiet lately.”

“Yeah, well, you take care of yourself, alright? Lots of demons running around lately,” he said. “If you ever need backup, just call me.”

“Thanks,” you replied quietly. “I haven’t been up to much other than keeping an eye on things. Honestly, I was worried about you guys. Heard you were at the Devil’s Gate when everything went down.”

“We were trying to stop it,” Dean said, and you nodded.

“I figured as much. But…” You hesitated. “That’s not exactly what everyone’s saying.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, frowning a bit as he flexed his hand, checking how well he could move it with your bandages. “Who’s everyone?”

“The other hunters,” you said. “They’re saying Sam… and you… you guys made the whole thing happen.”

Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes and running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“And did you believe that bullshit?”

“I didn’t! Just… Please be careful out there, alright? Not all hunters are as friendly right now.” He looked at you for a moment, then let out a sigh and nodded. You hesitated. “Do you, uh, wanna hit up a bar or something? I mean, I’m not exactly living the most exciting life out here…”

“You got a TV and some beers?” he asked, catching you off guard. You blinked a few times before nodding. “Sweet. That’s all I need today. We could watch a movie or something, maybe order in.”

“I can cook,” you chimed in. “I’ve got a wood-burning oven outside... we could make homemade pizza.”

The way he looked at you, it was like you’d just revealed you had the keys to Heaven itself.

You finally figured out what was up much later in the night, while you and Dean were sprawled out in your queen bed.

At first, he had tried to be a gentleman and insisted on crashing on the couch, but you wouldn’t have it — the bed was more than big enough for both of you. No point in him getting a stiff neck just because he wanted to play nice. Sure, you were practical, but you also just wanted him to be comfortable. You could sense something was off with him, even if he kept saying he was fine.

So there you were, cozy and ready to sleep, lights out and moonlight streaming through the curtains, lying on your side and facing the wall as you listened to his deep breathing. You were almost drifting off yourself when he said it.

“I made a deal.”

You opened your eyes right away, twisting in bed to find his face just inches from yours. Your heart raced at the vulnerability in his gaze — the angst he’d tried to keep hidden was now clear as day. It made your heart sink and your breath hitch a little.

“What?” you asked, concern creeping into your voice. Dean closed his eyes for a second, letting out a small sigh.

“Sam died, sweetheart,” he whispered, and your heart clenched at his words. Why did he have to call you that right now? “And I made a deal to bring him back. I had to.”

“This isn’t funny,” you said, your voice trembling. “Dean, you can’t be serious.”

“I’m serious,” he replied, his tone firm. “I wouldn’t lie. Not about this.”

You didn’t answer, just buried your face in your hands, struggling to catch your breath as tears started to well up in your eyes. The reaction shocked you — why did you care about him so much? How could you be terrified of losing him when you were just… what? Occasional hunting partners? Friends?

But he was right there with you, wasn’t he?

Was this why he had come to you?

“I wanted to tell you myself,” he said softly, as if he could read your mind. “I… I wanted to see you. One last time, at least.”

One last time. His words bounced around in your head, and you lowered your hands to face him, confusion scrunching your brow. That didn’t make sense. Demons usually gave you ten years after a deal, so why…?

“Dean,” you said slowly. “How long… how long did they give you?”

“A year,” he whispered, so quietly you almost missed it. “They gave me a year.”

“No,” you said, covering your mouth with one hand as the sobs started to spill out. “Oh, no, Dean, no, no, no…”

He pulled you close, wrapping you tight against his chest as you cried, your arms instinctively clinging to him. Incoherent words tumbled out — trying to apologize for crying, for feeling like a hole had been carved out of your chest. It didn’t feel right — you weren’t the one who was supposed to be feeling this way.

Because you weren’t the one dying.

You cried yourself to sleep in his arms that night. As your sobs faded into tired breaths and your eyes finally closed, Dean felt a sharp ache in his chest while watching your swollen eyes and damp cheeks.

He couldn’t deal with the whirlwind of feelings churning inside him right now. He couldn’t face the regret, the fear, not even that nameless feeling he had for you — because he was too scared to name it, to even acknowledge it was real. All he knew was that he had lied; Bobby hadn’t sent him to you. Things weren’t fine, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise.

He had come to you of his own choice.

Because when his world was crumbling, he knew you were the only one who could help him pick up the pieces.

Even when everything felt hopeless.

Even when he felt completely lost.

[cesilly]

- you owe me

hamzah x reader

18+ MINORS DNI

contains: arguing, swearing, oral (fem receiving)

my first actual post don’t come for me ok idk how this works and idk if it’s too long cause idk when to stop ok thx

————————————————————————

“god, fuck!”

you’re rudely startled awake in the middle of the night by a string of loud cusses and grumbles. you quickly sit up straight, stiffening as you glance around the dark bedroom belonging to mandy and martin, in their apartment where you were currently sleeping for the night while the two of them were on vacation.

a little frightened, you hear the cats begin meowing loudly as heavy footsteps can be heard throughout the living room.

“shh, shh!” you can make out the sound of frantic pleads for the animals to stay quiet when you get out of bed and press your ear up against the door.

“where is it? martin, fucking call me back right now. jesus!”

you continue to listen, and now you recognize the voice.

hamzah.

you and hamzah have somewhat of a complicated relationship, due to both of you always being around this apartment, especially when you’re trying to hang out with mandy and he’s trying to hang out with martin. the couple has tried easing you and hamzah into being friends, yet you both have no interest in being around each other because of this annoyance that has only grown between you two over time.

you gently push the door open, being met with the humid summer air that resides outside of the bedroom, where you have a fan plugged in to help you sleep. you catch sight of him, pacing around the kitchen and living room, searching with his phone’s flashlight.

he doesn’t notice you.

you think about the easiest way to make your presence known without scaring the shit out of him, so you decide to just flip the switch to turn the hallway light on.

“huh?” he exclaims anxiously, his eyes quickly darting over and landing on you. “what the hell are you doing here?”

his voice is harsh and unforgiving as he shines the flash into your eyes, not even giving you time to adjust to the overhead light.

you shield your vision from the brightness, letting out a groan. “i could ask you the same thing. i just needed a place to sleep. which you’re interrupting right now, by the way.” you clear your throat.

“and shine that thing somewhere else, please.”

he grumbles and tosses his phone down onto the kitchen counter with a loud clatter. “i don’t have time for you right now. this is great, this is great!” he rambles. you watch him with furrowed brows as he tangles his own fingers in his hair and tugs on it, his back to you, seeming as if he’s struggling to keep his composure.

“what is your problem?” you ask, already not appreciating the way he’s speaking to you.

“no, no, you don’t get it.” he mutters. “if martin took the fucking key, if he took the fucking key with him, he’s dead. i can’t find it. i have so much work in there, and i can’t find the goddamn key.” his frustration increases with every word, as he stalks over to the couch and throws the pillows to the floor, feeling a for this key.

you assume he’s talking about the key to the studio that him and martin share for projects and whatnot, but you couldn’t care less about that. him being here has already aggravated you enough, you don’t want to help him at all.

“this is not my problem. i’m going back to sleep so, keep it down, okay?” you say with an small, sarcastic smile.

“no, no. you’re here, you’re going to help me.” he replies, his back still turned towards you.

this makes you laugh. “um, no? i’m not going to do anything for you.”

in less than a second, he turns and around and he’s suddenly an inch away from you. the room is almost unbearingly hot, the humidity making your skin sticky. you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

his voice sounds like a warning when he speaks again. “whether you help me or not, i’m not leaving until i find this thing, so you’re most likely not sleeping any more tonight unless i do. if you’d just fucking look, maybe we’d get done faster and i won’t have to be around you any fucking longer than i’ve already had to.”

you stare up at him for a few moments, realizing that it technically would be better for you if you at least looked around a little bit.

“you’re sure that it’s here?”

“yes.” he says, with his jaw clenched. “fucking obviously.”

“fine.” you say affirmatively. “you’ll fucking owe me if i find it for you.”

“fine.” he replicates your tone, heading towards the bedroom without another word.

•••

it takes you over an hour, but you find it.

the key was shoved under a notebook in the drawer of martin’s desk. stupid fucking spot.

you clutch the small key attatched to a little chain in your hand, walking into the bedroom where this man is currently looking underneath the bedside table. you stand and watch his frantic demeanor, fighting back a laugh before somehow he senses your presence and turns to look at you.

“what?” he says impatiently, his knuckles going white as he grips the edge of the small nightstand.

you smile and let the key drop from your palm, holding onto the little chain and dangling it around like it’s a prize you’re showing off.

he immediately stands and steps toward you, his face lighting up as he snatches the key from you and simultaneously grips your waist with his other hand. he doesn’t even realize where his hand automatically flew, he’s just staring at the key, looking puzzled.

“where? what?” he mumbles.

you stay silent, frozen in place. you’ve never come close enough to this man to let him touch you, and you don’t know why his hand is making you feel nervous.

hamzah snaps out of it and looks at you, then down at his hand, retracting his arm silently. he pockets the key in his shorts. “where?” he repeats, looking down at you.

“desk.” your voice is barely above a whisper.

he shakes his head. “it makes me even more annoyed with you because you found it before i did.” he says.

you chew on your lip. “doesn’t matter.” you say with a straight face.

he cocks his head to the side, looking aggravated, confused, and curious all at once.

“you owe me.” you remind him with a slight nod, your baby hairs sticking to your forehead as result of the heat in the small apartment.

“right, right.” he nodded. “what do you want?”

as you think of a response, he looks at you like an animal hunting prey.

“what are you willing to give me?” you reply.

“don’t ask me that.” a breathy laugh escapes him, and he rakes his hands through his hair like he’s stressed. “you have no fucking idea.”

“i don’t?”

“no, not a goddamn clue.” he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek.

the sound of your own heartbeat rings in your ears, your pulse quickening. you don’t know why this ongoing tension you’ve had with him suddenly feels different, like a switch has been flipped.

“what do you mean?” is all you can manage to say as you look at him and his bewildered face, seeming like he’s lost in his own thoughts.

“what do i mean? jesus, what do i mean? yeah, fuck, i can show you what i fucking mean, okay?” he grabs your face in his hands. “you bother me so much. i can’t fucking figure out what it is with you.”

you hold onto his wrists, meeting his eyes, seeing his expression that seems almost challenging.

“god, just shut up.” i whisper urgently.

he pauses for a few seconds, but quickly makes up his mind. “yeah. ‘kay.” he responds too casually, like he can read your thoughts. he runs his thumb along your bottom lip. “can i?”

you nod.

“no, say it.” his voice is barely audible.

“yes, hamzah.”

his lips then press to yours with the urgency that his tone was lacking.

his hands travel to your waist, gripping harshly as his lips overtake yours. “fuck.” he starts to mutter as he breaks away repeatedly, like he’s trying to control himself but he just can’t stop coming back to your lips.

“m’gonna,” another kiss. “give you,” another. “what you deserve.”

you exhale against his lips, snaking your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist when his grip tightens on you and he lifts you up.

he carries you to the couch where he had thrown all the pillows from earlier, sitting you on the edge. he slides his hands under your shirt as he sinks down onto his knees.

watching him kneel before you finally makes it painfully clear what he was intending on doing, because this was what he’s willing to give you.

“oh,” you whisper.

he looks up while he’s in the middle of positioning his head between your legs.

“what?” his brows drop. “not good?”

you gaze down at him. the way he got into this position so quickly, it gives you the impression that maybe this isn’t the first time he’s thought about this.

you start to have doubts, but watching him stare up at you on his knees..

jesus christ, why the fuck not?

“no. s’good.” you nod, lifting your hips up off the surface of the couch. “c’mon.”

his lips part and he lets out an exasperated sigh, wasting no time before he tugs down your shorts and underwear. his breath hitches as your entire lower half is exposed.

“i hate you.” he says. “i hate you, and you’re so beautiful. c’mere,”

he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder and extends his fingers toward you.

“hold my hand.”

your heartbeat is overwhelmingly fast, and you can barely believe the words you’re hearing and the sight before you. your thoughts aren’t even coherent right now, so you decide to ignore them and interlace your fingers with his, your hands clasped together as they now rest upon your stomach.

“squeeze as hard as you fucking want,” he murmurs, finally leaning all the way in to kiss the inside of your thighs.

your grip automatically tenses, your body reacting embarrassingly quick to the fact that his lips are so fucking close to tasting you.

you hear and feel him laugh against your skin like it’s a million tiny electric shocks in your stomach. aside from all your desire, you still feel frustrated with the fact that you hate each other so much, but he’s still buried between your thighs right now.

not just frustrated, you’re angry. he owes you.

“hamzah,” you breathe out, holding onto his hand so tight, you feel as if your bones are touching his. “just fucking- ugh,”

you rake your other hand through his hair, easing his face towards your pussy that’s painfully aching for him by now.

you see his eyes flash up at you for a split second before he responds almost immediately, latching himself onto your pussy and eating you out like his life fucking depended on it.

a constant waterfall of gasps, moans, incoherent mumbles interrupted by groans of his name come spilling from your lips as you feel his tongue working against you, his nose rubbing against your clit.

he doesn’t let go of your hand once, making sure he glances up at you every few seconds to watch your pretty face become damp with sweat, and see how your chest rises and falls with each sharp breath.

“so fucking good,” his voice vibrates against you. “how could i ever hate you, really?”

you can barely hear those last few words, but you’re too caught up in the moment to actually process what they mean.

“i feel, mm,” you can hardly put a sentence together when he’s stimulating every single part of your body so perfectly. his blunt nails gently trace along your leg that he holds over his shoulder, a stark contrast to the way he’s absolutely devouring you right now.

“hamzah, i’m..”

“i know, beautiful. let it out,” he groans.

“oh, shit, fuck!”

your orgasm possesses your whole body within seconds. your thighs trembling, sweat dripping down your chest, your face flushed, your hand still interlocked with his as you release.

it’s silent in the humid room as both of you regain your composure, hamzah taking it upon himself to lay his head against your thigh.

“hamzah..”

he perks up.

“i still don’t like you, you know.” you breathe out with a lazy smile.

his lips spread into a grin. “shut up.”

————————————————————————

[bpmiranda]

The Bodyguard IV |l. howlett|

A/N: slow burn, friends to lovers, bodyguard!logan x original character, 21y/o f!character, mentions of organized crime, drug use, suggestive content

Logan knew this was a difficult position for him to be in right now. Inexplicably, he developed some sort of feelings for Mercedes - the last girl in the world he should’ve gotten this close to, but he couldn’t deny it anymore. It was foolish of him to think he could talk himself out of the way he cared for her or trick himself into believing that his feelings were not nearly as intense as they actually were - because things only seemed okay when they were together.

“You goin’ in?” Logan asked as they sat in his car outside of the clinic where she worked. Mercedes had not moved an inch, she sat in the passenger seat anxiously picking at her cuticles in her scrubs and she shook her head. Logan figured something like this would happen, and he wasn’t upset, but relieved.

“I don’t-I can’t do-” Mercedes stammered quietly, eyes glossy as she stared at the clinic apprehensively. “I can’t go in, Logan. I-I’m not ready.”

Logan rested an arm along the back of their seats to look at her, her deep brown eyes locked on his face, and he gave her a small nod. “That’s okay. It’s only been a few days.” Mercedes gave him an appreciative look, but she still seemed shaken and it hurt him that she was this traumatized over something that Emilio and the others had already forgotten about; they replaced Gomez easily, without missing a beat meanwhile his sister was tormenting herself with guilt. “Do you want to grab a coffee?” He asked, his hand coming down to rub her shoulder as she nodded slowly, a tear slipping down her cheek. Logan leaned over and kissed her forehead before he drove away from the clinic.

Mercedes had two things on her mind; the guilt she carried for not having been able to help Gomez, the man that trusted her with his life, and her budding feelings for Logan. Their relationship had always been flirty and lighthearted, but as things were becoming heavier and more intense, he didn’t shy away from her. Logan was all the more present in her life, always prepared to help her out any way he could, even beyond the duties of a bodyguard. Her emotions were fragile and she was incredibly susceptible to affection and attention right now, she knew that, but she had a feeling that Logan wasn’t just being nice. Maybe he’d stop her if they got too close to a line that they shouldn’t cross, she needed him to do it because she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop herself. Logan was the only man she could see herself falling for, and she wouldn’t be reasonable enough right now to see the harm in it.

They were at the beach, parked in the lot where they could overlook the sand and the never ending ocean ahead of them. The sun was beaming brightly, sparkling off the water, there were parents with their children playing in the sand and couples diving into the ocean. They were living their lives as if someone had not died the other night and Mercedes felt sick.

“Here,” Logan pulled a joint out from inside his jacket pocket and she couldn’t help the small laugh that left her mouth as it seemed that he could read her mind. “It’s not as nicely rolled as yours, but it’ll smoke.” He teased as she set the spliff between her lips and he lit it for her.

“Thanks.” She murmured as she let out a deep sigh and tried to ease her frazzled nerves. It was easier when she was with him, she felt safe with him. “Do they ever talk about him?” She asked after a moment and Logan shook his head as he lit a cigar. “They just brought someone in to take his place?”

“That’s usually how it goes, yeah.” He said before exhaling a cloud of smoke that smell of spiced cinnamon and bourbon.

The radio was playing a song that Logan enjoyed and he turned it up a tiny bit while she rolled down her window to let out the smoke. It was silent, but the kind that was comfortable and let her think. Logan never pressured her to talk until she was ready and that was something she had always appreciated. Logan put out his stogie while Bill Withers sang softly in the background and he turned the radio up before looking over at her as quiet tears rolled down her cheeks, her eyes glued down on the short joint between her fingers, watching it burn slowly.

It’s not warm when she’s away,

Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone,

Logan knew he shouldn’t. In the back of his mind he knew it would lead to something else, but she looked so sad and he had this uncontrollable need to comfort her. It was an ache he felt at his core, he knew that his purpose was to protect her. Mercedes was his to care for, after all.

Wonder this time where she’s gone,

Wonder if she’s gone stay,

Their eyes met, held each other’s longing gaze for a moment before Logan brought her into his side and she sniffed against his chest, crying softly into his shoulder while he cooed gently at her, “I’ve got you, baby doll.” Mercedes nodded, believing him as she nuzzled into him.

And I know, I know, I know

I know, I know, I know

Her arms were wrapped around his waist as she looked up at him with those beautiful, pleading eyes and a pouty lip. Logan let out a small sigh as he caressed her arm gently, his other hand came up to touch her damp cheek. “This okay?” He whispered, searching her face for any sign of uncertainty as she nodded at him.

I know, I know, I know

Hey, I ought to leave young thing alone

One of her hands moved up his chest and she rested it over his heart as they kissed slowly, almost experimentally, giving each other time to pull back. Logan’s heart was beating hard against his ribcage as she seemingly melted into him and sighed against his lips. His hands grabbed onto her waist and she followed his lead as he guided her to straddle him. “Don’t leave me.” She pleaded, tears still rolling slowly down her face as they pulled away to take a breath, their foreheads pressed together.

“I’ve got you.” Logan murmured, kissing her again, addicted to the feeling of her lips. His large hands held her face gently in his palms as she fisted his brown leather jacket. It was a long kiss, far too long for their compromising situation, but all Logan could do was hope no one they knew saw them. There wasn’t a force on this Earth that could stop him from consoling her, kissing her, comforting her the best way he knew how to comfort a woman. His woman.

During the ride home, Mercedes was still sitting beside him. Her head rested on his chest as she had fallen asleep while he kept an arm wrapped around her shoulders and one hand on the wheel.

It just felt right.

They had to keep it a secret. Emilio was clearly not a fanatic about the idea of them together, even before they actually realized themselves that there was indeed something going on between them. They simply couldn’t let him know he was right, he would be all the more furious if he found them out now, he would see them as liars, and consider their relationship a betrayal of his trust. Logan tried not to let his feelings affect his work, but it was difficult when Emilio’s men would flirt with her whenever she would be called in to patch somebody up.

“Que bonita eres.” (You are so pretty.) They would say while Mercedes treated them, and she only offered a kind smile and a mumbled ‘thank you’ as she finished up. Logan’s blood was heated enough to possibly burn someone with a single touch as he stood and listened them run their cheap game on her.

“No te deja el lobo por un segundo, verdad?” (The wolf won’t leave you for a second, right?) They would tease, glancing at Logan as he stood against a wall, supervising their behavior and protecting her. They wanted to upset him, they thought he didn’t understand as much as he did, and it only made his anger towards them grow.

Mercedes would look over at him and he would only smirk a little, knowing that when they said ‘lobo’ they were talking about him and in a way, he enjoyed that they thought they had a chance, enjoyed the fact that she would be leaving with him. “It’s his job, he’s my bodyguard.” She would shrug as she continued her task, smiling to herself because Logan was very protective - incriminatingly so.

“What are you doing later tonight?” They would ask as she was cleaning up and gathering her medical equipment. Before she could even come up with one of her witty responses, Logan had an arm around her waist and he was already guiding her out.

“Not a chance.” He’d say while shooting daggers at the men, daring them to try anything. “We done here?” He asked her and she nodded, looking up at him with a sweet smile, her face warm as he led her out to his car parked outside the safe house.

His car. Where they would spend countless hours making out heavily, quietly, day or night. Mercedes couldn’t resist him when he was so authoritative with others, so protective of her. “Jealous, Logan?” She’d tease as his hands gripped tightly onto her thighs, his teeth biting at her bottom lip to leave a mark.

“You have no idea.” Logan sighed.

Mercedes couldn’t help the soft giggle that left her lips as she said, “You know I barely like you, I’m not looking at any of them.” She teased and Logan laughed, grinning up at her as she ran a hand through his hair and smiled sweetly at him.

“That makes me feel better, baby doll,” He chuckled, kissing her chin lightly and then her jaw. “Especially since you’re kind of a pain in my ass anyway.” Mercedes laughed and lightly smacked his firm chest as she got off his lap. “They’d bring you back to me in no time.” He smirked as he started the car to take her home and away from this rundown gas station in the middle of nowhere where he had to stop because he simply needed to feel her kiss.

Everything was better with each other. Logan didn’t want to be at his little apartment when he could be with her. And with him driving her around anyway, it just made since for them to spend all their time together. They fit into each other’s lives almost seamlessly, it didn’t feel like a forced transition at all.

“Quieres una cerveza o tequila?” (Do you want a beer or tequila?) Mercedes asked as they came back to her apartment from their long day out. Logan took her jacket for her and hung it on the coat rack, doing the same with his own coat as he considered his options.

“What do you want?” He asked, turning around and seeing she was already pouring two shots of tequila. Logan chuckled as he walked over to her, placed a hand on her hip as he stood behind her, and they clinked their shot glasses together before downing their liquor in one go. “C’mere.” He said as she groaned softly from the burn of the gold alcohol in her throat. Logan took her hand and led her to the couch, the spot where their nights usually came to a pleasurable end.

They would make out, nothing more than that just yet. Logan simply needed to feel her, be in this moment with her as she sat on his lap and kissed him. Her dainty hands smoothed over his shoulders and chest while he held onto her ass and caressed her thighs. Their tongues moved in synchronized movements, giving and taking from each other as it heated up. It never went any further. Not because they didn’t want it to, but it just didn’t feel organic to force it. Nothing between them had ever been forced or rushed, why should this?

It wasn’t long before Emilio caught wind of them. One of his men mentioned in passing that Mercedes seemed quite close to the wolf, questionably close. The man had been speaking out of jealousy and while Emilio wouldn’t usually care about who his sister was seeing, he couldn’t have his best problem solver getting distracted at a moment when his organization had far too many rats and enemies.

One afternoon, Logan was called in while Mercedes was at work, and he had a feeling he knew what the conversation would be about. Emilio had him meet at a warehouse where the cartel stored their cars and ammunition. Upon entering the warehouse, Logan eyed the two men with Emilio who was on the phone with whom Logan assumed was Clara based on how he was speaking to her. “Esta aquí, te hablo después,” (He’s here, I’ll call you after,) Emilio said, holding a finger up at Logan who shoved his hands in his pockets in wait. “Si amor mío, te amo.” (Yes, love of mine. I love you.) The drug lord looked up at Logan and gave him an acknowledging nod with a smile as he walked over to a table where there was a cup of coffee, a few papers, and a gun. Logan watched closely as he raised the mug to his mouth and sipped loudly. “Logan, I have heard some rumors of concern to me.” He said as he set the mug down and sat against the table, arms crossed as he looked at the mutant standing across from him. “Rumors about you and Mercedes.” Logan shrugged and Emilio chuckled. “I cannot be mad, I knew it was a possibility when I ordered you to care for her.” Emilio looked over Logan and shook his head almost in a disappointed manner. “I just always thought you were smarter than to let some pussy affect the way you work.”

“My work is to protect your sister.” Logan retorted.

“Por ahora,” (For now) Emilio said with a smirk as he grabbed a paper from the table behind him and cleared his throat. “I have a letter here from an American Sergeant by the name of William Stryker, ring any bells?” Logan shook his head, confused and growing agitated from the drawn out interrogation. “Well, he knows you.” Emilio continued to read the letter and he chuckled, Logan felt uneasy as he noticed the two men closing in on him. “Señor Stryker is willing to pay a lot of money for you, Logan. Makes me wonder just how valuable you really are.” Logan glared at the man on his right, his claws unsheathed themselves from his knuckles and Emilio held a hand up to his men, motioning them to back off. “Por favor, (please) Logan, no need to become violent. I wouldn’t ever think of giving you away like some old dog.” Emilio laughed as he set the letter down. “I just have a question.”

“What?” Logan snapped, growing tired of his game.

“My sister isn’t some girl, you know this, but if she started blur your focus, well, I wouldn’t be too troubled to straighten out that kink in my organization.” Emilio rubbed his jaw thoughtfully as he stepped closer to him. Their eyes held each other’s intense gaze and Logan could see a smirk threatening his face. “Is she the only reason you stay?”

Logan should’ve known it was a trap, something more than what it seemed, but he didn’t want to risk her safety. If Emilio thought she was all he cared about, he feared she would be used to hurt him. “I stay for the money.” He muttered, letting his claws retract into his hands. “Mercedes is an added bonus.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” Emilio grinned, clapping Logan’s shoulder as he guided him out of the warehouse. “It’s a shaky time for the cartel, Logan, tú entiendes, no? (You understand, no?) We just want to be sure everyone’s alliances are where they should be.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Logan muttered before he took the envelope Emilio handed him with his payment for the month and he quickly headed back to his car.

With the news of this man Stryker searching for him, Logan found himself wondering about his past, something he hadn’t done in a while. His memories were always warped, coming to him in bits and pieces, in incoherent dreams that never made sense. The fact that Stryker had known to contact Emilio told Logan that the sergeant knew he was in Mexico, but he didn’t have any jurisdiction on this continent. For now, he had time to think.

“Logan,” Mercedes’ voice called him out of his thoughts and he looked over at the passenger seat where she was looking at him curiously. “Everything okay? How’d that talk with Emilio go?”

Logan smiled at her and took her hand in his so he could kiss her knuckles. “It went fine, baby doll, just got paid.” He winked and she rolled her eyes.

“Right, your babysitter money.” She teased as she clicked on her seatbelt and Logan chuckled as he started the car and rested his hand on her thigh. Since the day at the beach, she seemed to be returning to her usual persona, her usual quips and her playful attitude as prominent as ever. It relieved him more than anything to see her this way, playful and a little mean, as was usual for her.

“I see it more as getting paid to drive a pretty thing around.” He said, making her face warm up as she shook her head at him. Logan felt a sense of urgency as he looked at her and he knew this was something he couldn’t put off any longer. “Wanna go somewhere with me?” He asked her and she smiled, nodding as she intertwined her hand with his in her lap.

It was a longer drive and he wouldn’t answer any of her questions so she guessed their destination, each guess growing more and more ridiculous the further they got from town. “Are we going to Asia?” She asked as Logan parked by the side of the road and he chuckled as he shook his head. Mercedes looked around and noticed he took her to the desert and she couldn’t help a nervous laugh as they sat in the middle of nowhere. “Am I that much of a pain in the ass?” She joked and Logan smirked at her as he moved an arm to rest behind her shoulders.

“If we’re in this together,” Logan said, gently running his fingers through her hair and sighing at the sight of her in the light of the setting sun. “I want to be honest with you.” Mercedes gave him a concerned look and she nodded slowly. “I’m not a good person, baby doll. Haven’t been as long as I can remember, and there’s not much that I can remember before meeting you. Not much that matters anyway.” Her lips turned slightly into a shy smile and she looked away from him. Logan caressed her cheek with his thumb and gently guided her to look back at him. “If it’s going to be me and you, you need to know everything about me. I don’t want you getting involved in something that you might regret later on.”

“Are you trying to scare me out of being with you?” Mercedes asked with a little smirk and Logan couldn’t help his chuckle as his eyes fell onto the dainty crucifix resting on her chest.

“I know you’re not scared of anything.” He said, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear and moving his thumb over her studded earring. “More than half the bodies out there are my doing.” He said, avoiding her eyes now and looking at the vast, plain land ahead of them. “Not because your brother told me to put them out there either. It was my idea, told him it would be easier than putting a bullet in everyone that wronged him. It’s second nature to me, almost, hurting people, sometimes even the people I care about most.”

Mercedes was quiet for a moment, and she chewed on her lip as she processed everything he said to her. “You’re not the devil,” She said softly, her hand resting on his thigh as she leaned closer to him. “You’re not some wolf or animal,” Logan looked at her and she gave him that sweet smile that always made him ache for her. “You’re just a man, Lo. You’re allowed to do what you can with the cards handed to you, you’re allowed to make mistakes, you’re allowed to feel regret about the things you’ve had to do to survive.” Her hands came up to his jaw and she smiled as his beard tickled her palms. “I’m yours to care for, right?” Logan nodded, his arm came around her waist and he slowly pulled her along the seat so she was pressed against him and their lips locked in a kiss.

“I’ve got you,” He whispered against her mouth. “I’ll always take care of you.”

Without breaking the kiss, she climbed onto his lap and he sighed as she settled her weight on his thighs. Her hands tangled in the hair at the base of his neck and he caressed her back tenderly underneath her top. “I know you will,” Mercedes sighed against his lips. “I believe you.”

They made out in the desert until it grew dark and their lips became raw from the incessant rubbing of his beard against her soft skin. His hands roamed almost every part of her body as she caressed the knots and aches out of his shoulders. Logan wasn’t sure what, but he knew something was coming, and this night gave him the reassurance that he could make it through anything as long as he had her.

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12 @shybluebirdninja @iamburdened @imtherain

[shitsndgiggs]

Marc guiu dad blurb. It’s your first night at home with the baby and ur all sat in bed cuddling. Pure fluff

EVERYTHING - MARC GUIU

First night home

Marc Guiu x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The house was quiet, a stillness that felt almost sacred. Our first night at home after the whirlwind of giving birth to our baby boy.

The soft hum of the rain outside tapped gently against the windows, a soothing rhythm to match the peace inside.

I was lying in bed, propped up against a pillow with our son cradled in my arms, his tiny body curled up against my chest.

His breathing was steady, small little puffs of air warming my skin as his tiny hand clutched the fabric of my shirt. The weight of him felt like an anchor—grounding, calming.

Marc sat at the edge of the bed, his eyes fixed on us, an expression I’d never seen before on his face. It was a mix of awe, love, and something else I couldn’t quite name, but it tugged at my heart in a way that made me want to cry and laugh all at once.

"You're amazing, you know that?" His voice was soft, almost reverent, as if speaking too loudly would break the spell of the moment.

I looked up from our baby to meet his eyes, and I smiled, though exhaustion clung to every part of me. "I’m just holding him, Marc."

He shook his head, shifting closer on the bed until he was right beside us. "No, I mean everything.

You’ve been incredible through all of this." His hand reached out, fingers brushing gently over our son’s tiny back, the warmth of his touch sending a wave of calm through me.

I bit my lip, trying to suppress the tears that suddenly welled up. My emotions had been all over the place since the birth, and now, looking at Marc gazing at our baby like he was the most precious thing in the world, it was almost too much to hold in.

Marc must have noticed because he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. "Don’t cry, mi amor," he whispered, his lips lingering for a moment before pulling back. "I’m supposed to be the one losing it over here."

I laughed lightly, blinking away the tears as I looked back down at our son. His little hand twitched in his sleep, still clutching my shirt, and I couldn’t help but marvel at how small and perfect he was. "I still can’t believe he’s real," I murmured. "That he’s ours."

Marc let out a soft chuckle, his arm slipping around my waist as he pulled me closer, careful not to disturb the baby. "He’s really ours," he said, his voice filled with wonder. "It feels like a dream, doesn’t it?"

I nodded, resting my head on Marc’s shoulder as we both gazed down at our son. The warmth of Marc’s body next to mine was comforting, familiar. "It’s surreal," I whispered. "But in the best way."

We sat there in silence for a few moments, just taking it all in. The rise and fall of our baby’s chest, the softness of his little features, the way his tiny fingers still gripped onto me like he knew this was where he belonged.

Marc reached out, his hand gently covering our son’s back as he leaned down, pressing the softest kiss to the top of his head. "You know, I was terrified," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

I looked up at him, surprised. "Terrified?"

He nodded, his eyes still fixed on our baby. "Yeah. The whole time. I was so scared something would go wrong, or that I wouldn’t know how to be a good dad." He paused, swallowing hard. "But then I saw him… saw you with him. And I just knew everything was going to be okay."

My heart swelled at his words, and I reached up, resting my hand on his cheek. "You’re going to be the best dad," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "You already are."

Marc smiled, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to my lips. It was soft and sweet, full of the love and gratitude that we both felt in that moment.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin. "I love you so much," he murmured. "Both of you."

"I love you too," I whispered back, my voice barely audible as I felt the weight of his words settle in my heart. "More than anything."

The three of us stayed like that, wrapped in the warmth of each other. Marc’s arm around me, our baby nestled between us, the world outside feeling miles away.

It was quiet, peaceful, like we were in our own little bubble of love and contentment.

For the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe. Like everything we had been through—the late nights, the exhaustion, the overwhelming emotions—had all led to this perfect, serene moment.

And I knew, deep in my heart, that no matter what came next, as long as we were together, everything would be okay.

Marc leaned down once more, his lips brushing the top of our son’s head as he whispered, "Welcome home, little guy." Then he looked at me, his eyes filled with love and tenderness. "This is it, isn’t it? This is everything."

I nodded, my heart full to the brim. "Yeah," I whispered, my voice soft as I gazed down at our sleeping son. "This is everything."

[heart-eyed-love]

Boys *Defeated Sigh*

Summary | Eddie uses you fear to torture you a little and you just want him to grow up.

Contains | Fem!Reader, Cursing, Reader has a fear of bugs, Eddie being an annoying boy, Friends-to-Lovers (eventually)

Pairing | BestFriend!Eddie x BestFriend!Reader

Word Count | 629

Summer 1981

Growing older with Eddie was weird. Cause even though the boy was 2 years older than you, he still thought the most stupid things were funny. So once you entered your first year of being a teenager you looked at him differently. Constantly confused on why he would still act so immature, but your mom always told you girls mature faster than boys. So that’s just what you chalked it up to being.

Summer had finally started, and you took it upon yourself to spend some of your time outside, just doing whatever you could to get out of the house.

Today, you had settled on up at the picnic table that resided near your trailer, reading one of your books and sipping on some ice cold lemonade.

Too immersed in your book to hear the boy himself approaching behind you. It’s not until you feel a light tap on your shoulder you take notice, but as you turn your head over you notice something grosser than the annoying teenage boy you expect.

The cicada being held by dirty fingernails way too close to your face has you screeching and hitting his hand away, “Eddie!” You scooch further away on the bench.

“Jeez, calm down! It’s just the shell.” He says, laughing as he crouched down to grab it again.

“I don’t give a shit. That’s disgusting.” You sneer at the shell of the creature he’s picking up again, then his head suddenly his face snaps towards you with a smirk as he stands up fully again.

“Wait, are you scared? Do bugs scare you?” He chuckles even more, and you wish you could knock that stupid smirk off his face. You weren’t big on telling people your fears, not wanting them to be able to use it against you. Not even if that person happens to be the person you’d consider your best friend.

“What?! No, I’m not!” But your tone comes out all wrong, and you can already tell by the look on his face whatever he’s about to do next is not gonna be fun.

He quickly moves right up to you, shoving it right back in your face. “Eddie stop!” Squealing as you push yourself further away on the bench, but that ends up not helping you one bit. Your ass is suddenly hitting the dirty ground as you reach the bench's end.

Eddie standing over you with the shell has you kicking his leg as warning and you quickly scramble back up, rounding the opposite side of the table.

“You sure you’re not scared?” He laughs cockily and your jaw is clenching, how you are managing to feel anger and fear from his boy at the same time amazes you.

A minute of him chasing you around the table was enough for you and you finally smacked his hand once again when he finally got too close. Hitting the shell to the ground and stomp your foot on it, and you look up to glare at him once the job is done.

You are surprised to see him still laughing, “Big Baby.” Your eyes narrow at him and your nostrils flare.

The boy had gone through a whole year of High School and he’s still antagonizing you, and you’re the baby?!

“Me?! You just chased me around with a bug like a toddler! Grow up, Munson.”

Your words are lost on him, and he shrugs his shoulders and begins walking away, “Can’t wait to see how you react to the real thing!” He shouts over his shoulder as he retreats back into his trailers.

You stay standing there with wide eyes as your mind now rakes through ideas to protect your future self.

God, you wish this boy would just hurry up and mature.

[pasteidolons]

𝔥𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤 - 𝔩𝔧𝔥 || 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦𝔦

pairing: lee jihoon x female!reader genre: historical au, fluff, angst, smut (later routes), supernatural members: choi seungcheol, wen junhui, kwon soonyoung, jeon wonwoo, lee seokmin, kim mingyu, boo seungkwan, lee chan warnings: crass humor and language, blood, violence, mentions of suicide, alcohol, minor character death, 660's sexism, crossdressing, medical procedures, political upset, historical innacuarcies for the sake of plot progression word count: 6.6k

taglist: @hipsdofangirl, @reiofsuns2001

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦 || 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔳

𝔄𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔩 5𝔱𝔥, 663 – 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 In the late months of 662, King Munmu had purged several members of his council for being either directly connected to or sympathetic towards the efforts of Baekje revivalists. Now not only the revivalists themselves, but anyone who the Crown deems sympathetic towards the cause, is branded a traitor and an enemy of the Kingdom. 

The loyalists laid low for a time, yet as the days, weeks and months progressed, more and more outrage began to grow in the hearts of those who feel as if Silla has done them wrong. Rumors of an insurgency began to spread throughout the peninsula, with the Baekje revivalists calling for the return of Buyeo Pung, the son of the last Baekje king. Not knowing how baseless these rumors were, the Crown asked Kwak Youngmin to head an expedition to the former Baekje capital of Sabi to investigate the claims. 

It comes to pass that the expedition proves to be a fruitless venture, Youngmin writes as much in a letter received at Bulguksa this morning. He writes that he is to return immediately, the cost and expenditure of the venture far too much for the little information recovered.

Riding on the coattails of nothing, you set out with Choi Hansol this morning to accompany him on his rounds. An uneasy feeling fueling you with what may come in the weeks and months to pass. 

“I’m glad winter’s finally over,” you note as you walk with him, thankfully that you no longer have to wear a thick coat when you go out on rounds. 

“As am I,” he replies, his answer short and simple. His gaze flickers to a nearby shop before he looks to the men behind him, “We can start here and begin our rounds.” Hansol then turns to you, “You can wait outside if you’d like, I’m sure there’s nothing in here that would interest you.”

“Alright,” you nod before he and the handful of men make their way inside of the store, leaving you alone outside. His voice muffled from the interior, but you can hear him questioning the owner of the shop over a few accusations that had arisen recently. A few more minutes pass as you idly stand outside before you notice a commotion a bit further down the street. 

A bawdy group of soldiers make their way through the crowd, pushing, shoving and spewing less than pleasant profanities as they laugh amongst one another. For members of the kingdom’s army, they never seem to have respect towards the people they protect. You’d come across some before, never able to do much about their behavior. And now the Hwarang aren’t here, still holed up in the shop behind you with their investigation.

One soldier knocks a child down as they pass, you’re not sure if it’s intentional but your instincts kick in and you race over to help the kid to their feet. You’re about to shout something at them, the anger towards their attitudes bubbling within you rapidly, but before you can, someone else calls them out.

“Stop right there!” It comes from a woman, an angered expression on her face as she marches over to them.

“Are you trying to tell us what to do?” A soldier laughs at her, “We’re here to keep you safe, miss.”

“Is pushing around people keeping them safe?” She bites, venom in her words, “It’s a little pathetic to act all big and strong to people who can’t even fight back.”

The soldier’s temper lit, he makes a grab for her and misses entirely. It looks as if he’s trying to move for her once more before you spring to your feet and jump between them.

“WAIT!” You shout out, trying to make your voice sound deeper than it is. It’s then you realize what you’ve done, your arm outstretched to keep the soldier from coming any closer to the woman.

“This your girlfriend or something,” the soldier snickers at you, “Who are you?”

“I don’t know her,” you shake your head, “but I can’t just stand by while you try to hurt her.”

“Why don’t you keep your nose out of my goddamn business you bastard,” The soldier says through grit teeth, flecks of spittle flying out of his mouth with each word.

“If you’re a true soldier of the kingdom, then why are you abusing your power over children and women?” You argue back, unsure of where you’re getting the strength to sound so authoritative when your knees feel wobbly, “A soldier is meant to protect the people, not take advantage of them!”

“The fuck did you just say?” You’re sure if there wasn’t an audience watching this happen, the soldier would’ve ripped into you with the blade at his hip.

From somewhere in the crowd, a man shouts out, condemning the action of the soldier. A few more voices rise out in agreement, your speech must’ve encouraged the people to call out the soldier’s behavior. 

“You son of a bitch,” the familiar sound of a blade being unsheathed rings in your ears as you watch the soldier take out his sword.

 Eyes widening, you at first think to move to dodge the attack, but that would leave the woman you’re trying to protect vulnerable. So, you move to reach for your own blade before the soldier lets out a groan and falls face first onto the ground in front of you. Looking up, you see Hansol standing there, his hands holding his still sheathed blade.

“I used the hilt,” he notes, looking down to the soldier before looking back up to you, “He should be out for quite a while.” Hansol then looks to the Hwarang accompanying him before giving them an order, “Take him and his men back to Bulguksa, they may have information on the loyalists.”

The Hwarang quickly get to work tying up and escorting the men away, leaving just you, the woman and Hansol alone on the street. Hansol now looks at you, trying to figure out what had happened.

“That was reckless,” he sighs out, “I was just inside, you could’ve asked me to help. What would you have done if they injured you?”

“I couldn’t stop myself,” you shake your head, “What if she were to get injured?”

“He’s right though,” the woman speaks up from behind you, stepping forward so she’s in line with you, “I feel like I was handling the situation well enough.”

“I’m sorry I made you worry,” you look a bit shocked, fully expecting the scolding from Hansol, but not from the woman. After giving her a short bow, her eyes widen as if she’s remembering something. 

“You did save me though, didn’t you?” She now bows towards you, “Thank you! I forgot myself for a second.”

“I really didn’t do anything,” you chuckle nervously, “It was Captain Choi here and his men that did the work.”

“Even still,” she insists, “it’s way more respectable than just watching it all go down. Young ladies have to watch out for one another, you know?”

Hansol’s gaze travels from her to you, an expression crossing his features that you can’t quite name. “…You can’t expect to fool everyone you meet.” He says after a moment, letting you know that your jig is up.

“Were you trying to pretend to be a boy?” She sounds incredulous, the soft pinks of her shirts shimmering brightly in the sunlight, “Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it…” 

You’re not sure how to respond to her, in it of itself your whole situation is precarious at best. Seemingly sensing your confusion, she moves on swiftly, “I haven’t even asked your name! It seems like I’ve forgotten my manners. I think we could become very good friends, but it’s a bit difficult to befriend the nameless, can I as your name?”

“Oh well,” you look to Hansol, “this is—”

“I know him, of course. Captain Choi, right?” She says and looks at the man, “The Hwarang are famous enough in the city. But I’m asking who you are.”

You give her your name and blow slightly, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Her eyes grow wide, almost as if your name shocked her. She stares at you for a moment, “Heo? Your family name is Heo? Were you born near the coast?”

A slow nod, “I was. I lived in Toehwa-hyeon, but I’ve been in Seorabeol for a while.” 

She’s quiet for a moment, looking intently at you before she breaks into a smile. “I’m sorry,” a hand to wave off her prior concern, “it’s the same last name as an acquaintance of mine. It’s a lovely name.”

“You think so?”

“I do,” another smile before she introduces herself, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. You can call me Sooyoung, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Sooyoung,” judging by her attire, she’s probably the daughter of a high-ranking noble.

“Don’t be so formal!” She insists, “You look like you’re around my age, there’s no reason for us to not speak as equals.”

“So, just Sooyoung?” You question hesitantly.

“Just Sooyoung,” she smiles, “We have to meet again sometime, I feel like you’d be great company to keep.” Her hands reach out to hold yours for a moment, giving them a gentle squeeze before she turns and leaves. 

Your encounter was over before you had the chance to fully comprehend what had happened, so you stand partially stunned as you watch her walk off. 

Hansol watches her disappear into the crowds as well before he turns to you, “She seemed to be interested in your last name.”

“She said it was the same as someone she knows…” You hum and look at him, “It’s not an uncommon last name.”

It seems like he’s concerned with her reaction, deep in thought as he nods his head. “We’re running late on our patrol schedule… We should get going.”

And so the two of you continue on the patrol, basking in the pre-summer warmth that descends on the kingdom. 

𝔄𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔩 25𝔱𝔥, 663 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The heat intensifies as the month continues, dredging the compound in humidity only seen in the later summer months as the days go by. You’re sitting in the main hall with a small fan to cool yourself down with when you hear the sound of approaching footsteps. 

“Excuse me, Heo?” You turn and see Lee Junghwan standing in the doorway with a tray of tea in his hands, “Is this batch good enough?”

“Hm,” you stand and walk to him, gingerly placing your fingers to the pot before recoiling away with a small wince from the heat, “It might be best to make tea lukewarm on days like this.”

Shin Junghwan had joined the Hwarang just after Youngmin had returned from his expedition to Sabi, while there he invited the new member to join the organization. He’s now working as Youngmin’s page, and seemingly struggling with the transition from military life to that at the headquarters. The new member does seem fond of the Hwarang, very focused on honing his skills when he’s not running errands for the leader. 

“Do you think we can water it down?” A voice questions as they round the corner and saddle up to Junghwan, a tray of tea in his hands as well.

“Ah, Dohoon, if you do that then you’ll lose the tea’s flavor,” you note, somewhat scarred by that suggestion. 

“Really?” His eyes widen as he turns to his friend, “What do you think we’re supposed to do, Junghwan?”

“Maybe if we put the teapot in well water?” Junghwan suggests, humming out the question.

“That might work!” Dohoon nods enthusiastically, “Let’s do it!”

Kim Dohoon joined the Hwarang around the same time that Junghwan had, and because of their similar rank and age, they grew quite close to one another. Not to mention, Dohoon also became Youngmin’s page-in-training. Because of that, it was up to you to make sure the two became acquainted with the Hwarang and all of their pagely duties, a task more difficult than you previously imagined. 

“The tea doesn’t need to be exactly room temperature,” you say quickly, “Just a bit cooler to balance it against the warm weather. So, instead of boiling water, just make it warmer and then brew it. Then it won’t affect the tea’s flavor.”

“Ohhh,” Dohoon muses, “You really do know a lot about this.”

“It’s very helpful,” Junghwan smiles at you appreciatively.

“As for the tea,” you look to the pots, “I’ll serve it to them so you two can—” 

“What do you need?” Dohoon asks, saddling over to you, the cups and pot on his tray clinking together as he does so. “We’re up for it!”

“You’re going to do some sword training with me!” Junhui, who’d been sitting at the other end of the table, fiddling around with some trinket, exclaims as he rises to his feet. The two pages go quiet, knowing full well that Junhui’s training regime would probably leave them battered and bruised come tomorrow morning. “What?” The captain asks at their silent, “You don’t want to train?”

“Of course not!” Junghwan shakes his head, “I’d love to train.”

“Um…” Dohoon sighs out, “I still have a few errands to do…”

“Don’t get shy on me, new kid,” Junhui laughs at him.

“It’ll only help us become better warriors,” Junghwan mentions to Dohoon hurriedly.

“It’s not training, it's hazing,” Dohoon frowns and mutters quietly.

Junhui laughs again and puts his arms around the two, looking over at you with a wink, “I’ll take them off your hands for a bit.”

Junghwan smiles weakly as he sets down his tray, Dohoon looking as if he’s ready to cry as he sets down his own before Junhui throws his arms around the two and drags them off towards the training yard. 

𝔐𝔞𝔶 13𝔱𝔥, 663 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 “Is it really true that Buyeo Pung returned from Yamato?” Your voice is quiet as you set down a cup of tea by the Hwarang’s leader. Youngmin had been sitting out in one of the temple’s gardens after briefing the captains on what news had just emerged from the former kingdom of Baekje when you found him. On his expedition a few months prior, the Crown had concluded that the rumors of the former prince’s return weren’t anything to be afraid of, yet now it seems as if the attitude has shifted and a causation for worry has arisen.

“It seems that way,” Youngmin nods and reaches for the cup, bringing it to his lips and taking a long drink from it. “His forces attacked Yongmyo Gate out west and a monk from the temple they’ve been holed up in has instated him as Baekje’s new king.” The leader looks tired as he sets the cup back down.

“Does that mean there’s going to be a war?” You ask quietly, wondering what this means for the rest of the kingdom. It doesn’t seem as if the news of Pung’s return is widespread yet, as the city still seems to be at peace.

“War? Hmm,” Youngmin hums, “I’m not sure. They’ve allied with Yamato, gotten Gwisil Boksin back as their general and are trying to claim territory quickly so we can’t stop them.” That seems scary enough just listening to their conquest, but Youngmin adds a bit more to ease you, “King Munmu has asked Emperor Gaozong for aid, supposedly they’re sending in Lui Jengui.”

You don’t know who that is, but with the assuredness in Youngmin’s tone, it makes you feel a bit better. “Will the Hwarang have to fight?”

“I’m not sure,” he shakes his head, “We could be delegated to keeping watch over Seorabeol or be put into the ranks depending on what’s needed.” His arms cross over his chest as he remains deep in thought. 

You’re not sure what to say, on one hand, fighting for the kingdom is what the Hwarang are meant to do, but in doing so, there would be inevitable loss among his men. A heaving sigh escapes you before Youngmin speaks up once more.

“Doctor Namekawa is examining Seungkwan right now.” You look at him, wondering why he’d said that. The captain had seemingly been in a sickly state for a while now, had it gotten worse? “He hasn’t said anything but I hope it’s nothing serious,” a frown on the leader’s lips as he says that, “if something happened to him, I’m not sure I could face her…” 

“Her?” You question, “He’s not married, is he?”

Youngmin chuckles lightly and shakes his head, “His eldest sister. He left her in Gochang when he joined us.”

“I didn’t know he had a sister,” you say, somewhat surprised at the revelation.

“He has two,” Youngmin nods, “Their parents passed in a small town before they came to Seorabeol.”

“It sounds like Seungkwan has been through a lot…”

“He’s too honest to admit it, but yes, he has,” Youngmin agrees.

“You’d be the only man in Silla to call him honest, Kwak,” Jihoon laughs, having arrived in the garden at some point when you and Youngmin had been talking.

“Jihoon,” Youngmin smiles at him and motions him over, “Would you like some tea?”

“No thank you,” the commander shakes his head, his demeanor becoming more serious, “Have you heard about the notice board by the river?”

“The one that calls for the arrest of Baekje loyalists?” Youngmin asks before answering himself, “I have.”

“Some assholes tore it down and threw it into the water,” Jihoon relays, crossing his arms.

“I heard about that as well,” the leader nods, “Didn’t they fix it the next day?”

“Yes, but then it happened again,” Jihoon huffs, “I have a feeling we’re going to be asked to keep an eye on it sooner or later.” 

“It was torn down at night, wasn’t it?” Youngmin muses, “What about using Seungcheol’s Fury Corps?” With the way Jihoon looks after Youngmin’s suggestion, it’s easy to see it doesn’t sit right with the commander. 

“They work hard enough but they get… excited once the sun goes down.” Jihoon uncrosses his arms, “Whenever we give them something to do, they end up slaughtering instead of arresting. They desecrate the corpses until they’re unrecognizable. I don’t know if it’s to hide our involvement or what, but they’ve been going too far.” He shakes his head as if to rid himself of the thought, “Despite me telling them to stop, they won’t. If they keep it up then they’ll be no better than the average murderer.” 

You still can recall the night you’d first encountered the Furies, their bloodlust and the utter lack of regard for human life.

“… I have other ideas of what we can do.” Jihoon says, looking towards Youngmin.

“I’ll leave it to you then,” the leader nods with a sigh. “Have you heard of the reforms that Cha Sohwan is trying to initiate with the crown?”

Before long, the two of them delve further into political jargon and names that you’d never heard of before, so you excuse yourself and walk back to the inner buildings. There’s much on your mind, but the notice board is what really confuses you. Most of the revivalists were have thought to have retreated back to the land of the old kingdom, does this mean that there are still a few hiding out in Seorabeol?

𝔐𝔞𝔶 17𝔱𝔥, 663 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Jihoon seems to have been right about the notice board, a few days later the order arrived telling the Hwarang that they’re to guard the board and apprehend anyone who seeks to destroy it. Any captains and their division not on active patrol are to be positioned there to guard it. The first few days proved to be calm, with most of the men rolling in in the morning looking dead tired. 

Junhui is a great example of this, you notice it when you walk into the great hall and he’s slumped over in his chair, his cheek pressed against the tabletop as he yawns. “Morning,” a lazy wave towards you, “I’m beat.”

“I’d have thought you were better at pulling all-nighters,” Mingyu mutters next to him, leaning back in his chair.

“Pulling all-nighters in Noseo-dong is different than standing guard for a goddamn sign,” Junhui groans, pushing himself off the tabletop. “It’s not like I want the posting to be vandalized, I just wish something would happen. You’re in charge of it tonight, aren’t you Gyu?”

“Yeah,” the other nods, “And I will uphold my position with my sense of duty, honor and enthusiasm.” It’s obviously sarcasm that leeches from his voice, but you can’t fault him but so much, it does sound awfully boring. 

“Good morning Captain Kim, Dongyoung,” You nod as the two brush past you and head further into the hall.

“Hello, you three,” Gongmyung greets with a tired sigh, “Did I interrupt something here?” As he speaks a few of his men filter into the room, taking up a rather large portion of the space.

“Are you up to something here?” Mingyu asks as he watches the men file in, “What’s with all your men?”

“Me?” Gongmyung looks at him and smiles, “I was planning on holding a debate with my men on the topic of the potential Baekje threat. Would you like to join us?”

“You’re such a jackass,” Dongyoung says quietly and rolls his eyes at his brother. “I’m sure Mingyu’s read the Four Books and Five Classics but I doubt the other two even know what those are.”

“Don’t be impolite, Dongyoung,” his brother scolds without any real scorn behind it. He looks to you and Junhui, “Excuse him, I’m not sure what’s been affecting my dear brother as of late. But as it looks as if the hall’s in use, I’ll just take my men elsewhere.” With that, Gongmyung beckons his followers to follow him out of the hall, heading for another building in the compound. 

As soon as they were out of sight, a look of disgust comes over Junhui, “Him and his groupies are just a bunch of pompous nobles.” 

“Gathering his men and having secret meetings,” Mingyu frowns, “Who knows what they’re actually ‘debating’.” His head shakes with confusion, “I still don’t see why both Kwak and Soonyoung saw him as a valuable asset.”

Gongmyung isn’t just disliked by Junhui and Mingyu, more Hwarang than you can count had expressed distaste in him since he’d joined. There’s no way the captain hadn’t picked up on that by now, but he seems less than concerned of what everyone else thinks of him. 

“Have any of you seen Captain Kim go by?” A new voice appears in the doorway, it’s Suh Kangjoon, looking a little frazzled.

“He just left to go to another building,” you say quickly, “I think he’s going to have some kind of debate.”

A frustrated sigh, “I told him to tell me when he’d have his next meeting…” With that, Kangjoon storms off, probably going to find the captain.

“What was that about?” Junhui mutters as he watches Kangjoon stomp away.

“My guess is that he tried to join Gongmyung’s little posse but he’s not giving Kangjoon the time of day,” Mingyu shrugs. “It seems like he doesn’t really have a place for himself these days.” Another glance outside and Mingyu sighs, standing from his chair and stretching a bit, “I guess I should head out now.”

“Oh, actually—” You begin, and he turns to look at you. “Can I go with you?”

Mingyu seems to think on it for a moment before shaking his head, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Those Demons are still out there and these revivalists aren’t much better if we come across them.”

“I guess you’re right,” you frown, the sedentary nighttimes at the compound are just bugging you, you suppose. “Be careful, I know things are getting more hectic these days.”

“Will do,” he nods before spinning on his heels and bounding out the door. 

𝔐𝔞𝔶 9𝔱𝔥, 663 – 𝔑𝔬𝔰𝔢𝔬-𝔡𝔬𝔫𝔤, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 That night the loyalists struck, or at least tried to. Nearly a dozen men descended on Mingyu and his men as they kept guard over the sign. Kim’s men were able to apprehend a handful of them, but two of them had managed to escape. The Crown had praised their efforts, but when asked on how two of the prisoners got away, Mingyu had replied with ‘It was too dark to make sense of everything’ and left it at that.

A few days after the event, you accompany the captains to a meal in Noseo-dong, a neighborhood in Seorabeol known for its nightlife. It only takes you a moment after stepping into the area to know exactly what kind of nightlife it is, you assume it’s the city’s pleasure district.

“You’ve really outdone yourself!” Junhui shouts upon entering the restaurant, wrapping his arm around Mingyu’s neck and pulling him in. “And to think you want to use your reward money to treat us all to some good food and entertainment— I could cry.”

“If you’re going to be a kissass you should at least mention how he got that reward,” Seungkwan snorts as the group is escorted to a private room in the back of the restaurant. You can hear various instruments and chatter through the doors of the other private areas in the restaurant, this doesn’t seem like a brothel or anything of the sort, merely a place to get a good meal with a kisaeng or two. 

“I’m just,” Junhui relinquishes his hold on Mingyu and pretends to wipe tears from his eyes, “I’m just so touched that he’s thinking of us. Let’s have a good time!”

“Don’t get too crazy, okay?” Mingyu says as he settles into his seat, “The last time I paid I’m pretty sure you almost wiped out my family’s savings.’

“Thanks Gyu,” Soonyoung says giddily, reaching for a nearby cup of what you can only assume is alcohol, “I’m going to drink myself stupid tonight!” 

“Not everyone here can drink, you know,” Seungkwan sighs from his seat.

“There is more to do than drink, you know,” Jihoon also sighs out, probably well aware of the trio’s antics by now, “Eat, for starters.”

“Oh no,” Seungkwan shakes his head at the commander, “I wasn’t talking about you, Lee. You can drink as much as you want.”

“Ah, well… makgeolli…” Jihoon trails off, a panicked expression overcoming him for a second.

“Don’t tell me that the Demon commander of the Hwarang can’t drink!” Seungkwan laughs aloud.

“You know damn well why I can’t,” Jihoon frowns and crosses his arms, “It’s obvious.”

Before the two can continue their conversation, a woman dressed in fine silk robes enters the room, you assume it’s one of the establishment’s kisaengs. 

“Thank you for coming,” she says with a smile as she walks in, the personality she exudes from her simple entrance breathtaking. Her hair neatly pinned up with subtle rouge on her lips and cheeks, an epitome of beauty if you’d ever seen one. “My name is Seulgi, I’ll be keeping you company tonight. For now, enjoy yourselves, your food will arrive shortly.”

She isn’t wrong, moments later a near feast lays itself before you and the captains, instigating the real opulence of the evening. 

“Expensive gokaju is just… way better,” Soonyoung says, his finger twirling on the rim of his cup as his cheeks flush red. 

“You haven’t even eaten anything, Soonyoung,” Junhui frowns down at the dishes, “You’re going to be on your ass in no time and I’m not dragging you back to headquarters.” 

“Forget that!” Soonyoung exclaims. “I never get to have alcohol this good! Never! Filling up on food will just leave less room for it inside of me,” a pout on his lips as he cradles his stomach lovingly. 

“You sound like a drunkard,” Mingyu shakes his head and pours him another glass from a nearby carafe, “Drink up.”

The captain’s head whips to look at Mingyu, “Just because you drink like there’s a hole in your stomach doesn’t mean the rest of us can.”

Junhui then looks to you, a quizzical expression on his face, “Aren’t you having fun? It doesn’t look like you drank anything.” 

“Ah, I don’t think I should,” You haven’t had too much experience with alcohol, most of it had been medical usage and you can’t really pull the memory away from it right now.

“Alright,” Junhui nods, “Just make sure you’re eating though! We’re here to have fun and it’d be a damn shame if you didn’t.”

You nod and continue picking at the dishes in front of you. This was the first time you’d eaten expensive food, but truthfully, it doesn’t taste all too different than a home cooked meal.

“I’ve heard that the Hwarang men are comparable to Demons or monsters,” Seulgi says, looking towards Jihoon, “But from here you look more handsome than I’d imagined you to be. Almost like an actor.”

Jihoon laughs, “That’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”

The two converse rather freely as she pours him a cup of gokaju, the scene looking as if it’d been painted rather than a real life occurrence. 

“I can’t believe they gave you all that money for just watching a board,” Junhui shakes his head as he looks to Mingyu, “Imagine what you could’ve gotten if you’d caught all the bastards. How did they get away?”

Mingyu falls silent, looking down at his cup before his gaze flickers to you, “You didn’t leave the compound that night, did you?”

Brow furrowing after he’s asked, you shake your head, “No, I didn’t.”

“You’re sure?” He prods again.

“Yes, I am,” a nod before you continue, “I’ve never left on my own, ever.”

“What’s wrong Kim,” Soonyoung asks, “see a ghost?”

“It must’ve been a mistake, then,” the captain shakes his head, “It was dark and there wasn’t any moonlight… But even then, I did see her up close…”

“What are you talking about?” Now your turn to ask a question, you inquire about Mingyu’s ramblings.

“After we’d surrounded the Baekje loyalists this girl showed up, a girl who looked just like you.” He says and your confusion sets in, “She got in the way and messed up our formation.”

The room goes silent, even though Mingyu has been speaking in a hushed tone, the chatter doesn’t resume until Junhui speaks up.

“Well, shit happens, I guess,” he makes a move for his glass and finishes the contents in one go, “Mingyu’s paying tonight so let’s drink and milk him for every cent he’s got!”

“Seconded!” Soonyoung, picking up on the cue, takes his own glass and downs the contents, slamming it back down onto his tray, “Let’s see how much more I can handle!”

The two have the party back in swing in no time, but now your thoughts lay plagued with what Mingyu had divulged. You feel perplexed, unsure of how to process what he’d said. There was no way it could’ve been you, but someone who looks just like you makes things more difficult for the Hwarang. 

“Are you worried about what Kim said?” Seungkwan pulls you from your thoughts with the question. 

“I was wondering how someone could look just like me…”

“Maybe you were possessed by a ghost,” he suggests with a snicker, “Whenever you sleep a restless spirit takes you over to wander the streets of Seorabeol.”

You shake your head at him, “I’m having trouble believing that that’s it.”

Seungkwan pauses for a moment, remembering something before he speaks, “Do you remember that one time you were patrolling with Soonyoung and there was a girl he and I saved? She looked just like you.”

You’d almost forgotten the incident, but it now rushes back to you with a vivid clarity. “It must be her!”

“I can’t imagine many more girls in Seorabeol look like you,” he nods.

“She seemed normal though, not like an enemy of the Hwarang.”

“There isn’t one person in this city that doesn’t know how important that notice board is,” Seungkwan shakes his head.

“If that is her, what will you do?” You question, an uneasy feeling rising in your stomach.

“I have a feeling you already know that answer.” He lets out a sigh, “I’d kill her. She may be a girl, but an enemy is an enemy.”

The air in the room becomes all the more suffocating to you. You knew that would be his answer but the way he said it with no hesitance got to you. 

“I’m uh, going to go use the restroom,” you say and push yourself to your feet, just trying to get yourself out of the room.

It takes a moment, but you find an empty room further down the hall to collect your thoughts in. You take a seat at one of the open windows looking out into a small courtyard and frown. Was the girl whom the Hwarang had saved that day truly a Baekje loyalist? It doesn’t make sense to you.

You hear the door open and someone speaks up, “There you are, I’d wondered where you’d run off to.” Turning, you’re met face to face with Jihoon, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks as he speaks, “Is something wrong? The food not good?”

“No, it’s good,” you nod, “I actually had something else on my mind.”

“You’re worried about the girl Mingyu saw,” he nods, catching onto your thoughts. “It’s not like she’s your friend or anything, right?” Sensing your apprehension, he continues, “Don’t worry about it, it’s our business to handle. Or was Seungkwan trying to rile you up again?” Your expression gives it away and the commander sighs, “He doesn’t know when to stop.”

Jihoon ambles over and takes a seat beside you, “I’ve always said his humor is a bad influence on the new members.” Through the now open door of the room you can hear the shouts of the Hwarang some ways away, vaguely hearing Junhui request a brush and ink from one of the hostesses. The commander chuckles at it, the warm breeze drifting in, blowing a few strands of his hair around his face. “They never change,” he muses.

“Back at Youngmin’s father’s school we’d drink like this whenever we got a day off,” Jihoon reminisces, looking up at the moon hanging overhead, “This just reminds me of that. Youngmin’s father would hound our asses every day and once we were able to let go for a night, we went crazy. Of course, we’d show up to lessons the next day feeling like shit and he’d work us even harder but still… We kept on doing it. To spite him, probably. He was always shitty to his son and we promised that we’d follow Youngmin wherever he went so no one could treat him like that again.”

It’s hard to imagine Jihoon in those days, when you first met him, he’d already been designated as the Hwarang’s commander. So, it is very difficult to picture him as a kid following around his ragtag group of friends.

“I still think about those days with Seungkwan, Eunseok, Hoseok and Youngmin every once in a while,” he sighs out, “It wasn’t long ago that I was playing soldier with my brother and now I practically am one for the Crown. I sometimes wonder if it’s all a dream and eventually I’ll just wake up one day in my childhood bed.” 

This is the second time you’ve heard the name Hoseok mentioned around Jihoon, you’ve never met him before but with the way he’d said his name, you’re sure it’s someone he’s fond of.

Jihoon takes a moment to look up at the stars some more and you can’t help but notice how beautiful he is. Seulgi had been right earlier when she said he has the looks of an actor. The face the commander normally portrays is cold and demure, but now he looks almost happy as he reminisces.

The spell breaks after you and he hear Junhui crying out through the tavern, yet upon further inspection it seems as if he’s crying laughing rather than just weeping. Soonyoung and Mingyu’s voice raise as well, all three laughing about something as you continue to sit with Jihoon.

𝔒𝔠𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 30𝔱𝔥, 663 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 After the siege by Silla on Buyeo Pung’s fortress at Imjeon, the newly crowned Baekje king and his people fled further into their homeland, taking residence at the former capital of Sabi. Shortly after, Buyeo Pung has his lead general, Gwisil Boksin beheaded for fears of insurgency in the newly reformed kingdom, subsequently calling for aid from their allies in Yamato to try and suppress both Tang and Silla forces on the peninsula.

The tensions between Silla and the Baekje revivalists culminate in early October, when, on the fourth, Yamato forces arrive on the coastal front of Sabi. Intent on invading the capital in the name of their Baekje allies through navigating the Baekgang River, they soon found themselves interlocked in battle with the Tang army stationed nearby. 

Emperor Gaozong merely requested supplies from Silla at first, until the next day they call for standing troops. This means that several Hwarang were sent to fight the front lines, among them, Kim Mingyu, Choi Hansol and Wen Junhui had taken their men to fight amongst the Baekje-Yamato forces. On the seventh, the Baekje-Yamato and Silla-Tang forces engaged in battle once more, with the Yamato forces reeling with heavy casualties as the Silla warriors were able to break through their lines.

What comes to be known as the Battle of Baekgang ends on the thirteenth of October, 663. With little to no way of defeating the Silla forces on land or the Tang forces at sea, Buyeo Pung is forced to retreat. Neither the Silla nor Tang forces can capture him before he escapes into Goguryeo. Yet, the absence of a king quells the thoughts of a Baekje revival for some time after. 

In lieu of waiting for the three captains return, you find yourself sweeping the entranceway of the temple’s grounds, the autumnal air setting into your bones as the minutes pass. There isn’t a great much you can do as you anticipate their arrival, merely picking up things out of place and making sure no one’s snuck around and gone through their things while they were gone.

“You’re certainly hard at work,” Youngmin notes as he’s come outside to see what you’ve been up to. “The captains should be returning any day now.”

“I know,” You smile, expectant on their return, “Everything’s been hectic these last few months.” 

“You can say that again,” the leader sighs out. It’s been especially taxing to both him and Jihoon, who’d been called nearly every other day to the palace to discuss further plans on the fate of the remaining Baekje loyalists. “Oh,” Youngmin says as he spots a figure nearing him around a corner you can’t see behind, “Over here, Jihoon!”

The Hwarang’s commander comes into view seconds later, a tired edge to his voice, “There you are, I was wondering if you’d had enough and escaped yet.”

Youngmin laughs, “Almost to that point, I’m afraid. I’ve been looking for you too, it seems as if Lui Jengui’s been chosen to front the effort to extract Buyeo Pung from Goguryeo.”

“Him?” Jihoon nods slowly, “I guess it makes sense, he did just secure Sabi for Silla. The captains will have to tell us more about him once they get back.”