#and i'm still not tired of spotting that damn ring

[laurorne]

༊*·˚ CRAVING YOUR WARMTH | aegon ii targaryen x targaryen bastard sister!reader

summary: two dragons who seek to move closer for warmth during their grief must remain apart, as they can only hurt one another with their sharp teeth and barely contained flames. though they both share the intentions of a close relationship, they're unable, for reasons they cannot avoid.

content: targaryen incest, angst, allusion of self-mutilation/harm, bastardphobia in westeros, night after intimacy suggested, self-hatred, blood, wonky metaphors and personification, no beta we die like vizzy t, badly written angst, that damn necklace

word count: 1.5k

a/n: let me tell you that i struggle writing angst, but god do i love reading it. i'm like my own self entertaining paradoxical concept and it astounds me

A gentle hand smoothing over his back is what stirs him from the throes of sleep, nails skating along his marked skin softly enough to tickle. He shifts as the hand moves from the expanse of his back up to his hair, rubbing circles into the crown of his head. Twirling bits of hair between deft fingers as she presses a kiss to the slope of his shoulder.

He hums, limbs stretching out clumsily as he rolls onto his side, fingers weak as his hand dances along the goose-down duvet until it reaches her. Her, and her softness, and her warmth.

“Wife.” He’s barely awake, even with the exasperated sigh that comes from his older sister.

“We are not wed, Aegon.” A gentle reminder from soft lips, her eyes taking in his tired demeanour, the curve of his brow.

She brushes the strand of choppy hair from his face, thumb dragging along the apple of his cheek.

He doesn’t speak for a moment, lids finally fluttering open as he stares up at her with those watery eyes. The ones he knew made her weak to suggestion. He lets his hand creep up her calf –where he can still feel the divets of scars from their childhood running through the gardens– until it finds home on the hand she has in her lap, he threads his fingers with hers. The number of rings adorning her fingers was thanks to him: he and his obsession with keeping his older sister glamoured. 

Imported Dornish rings that gleamed with the heat of the sun, Essosi ornate cloth and dresses that were far from the modesty of Court, hair pins adorned with pearls from the Summer Isles, and an intricate necklace crafted from the smelted metal of a Valyrian sword, inlaid with gemstones he had pulled from the Red Keeps vaults.

She was wearing it now, the stones gleaming under the sun that spotted through the lace curtains of her room. The engraved details scatter the few beams of light they catch like dew drops upon spider silk. The stones dangle between the valley her breasts create, the smallest of them twirls some intricate dance as she shifts. Like molten silver, it fits her without any of the stiffness metal should have. 

“We should be.” He glances down at his hand intertwined with hers and watches her thumb rub over his —in the way she always has ever since childhood— it makes him all the more rueful.

He’s hopeful, far beyond it. His bones ache and his head throbs from a swelling hangover, and he feels his throat ache something terrible at its use. His eyes trail from their hands to her face, he wants anything aside from sorrow to be there.

It’s worse. 

Her brows are furrowed as she stares down at him with pity, oh how he wishes it wasn’t pity.

“Oh, sweet boy.” She pulls her hand from his grasp and holds his face in her gentle hands with all the care he needs. “Some things, they just can’t be.”

His lip curls, a pathetic smile covering his visage as he cups the backs of her hands in his own. “But they could. Helaena would not care, she loathes our marriage. As do I. We could take Valyrian vows on Dragonstone. Just as our sister and uncle have. We could leave.”

“Aegon.” A wistful breath of his name, pained and twisted with grief of things that never were and never will.

“We don’t need to stay. Just you and I, riding atop Sunfyre. Across the Narrow Sea.” He moves onto his knees, staring into her wet doe-like eyes as he speaks. He doesn’t leave her an opportunity to doubt him. Doesn’t allow her to pull away as he keeps her hands on his jaw.

Her lips twitch and so do her fingers against his. “Aegon, don’t be foolish.”

“You mustn’t know what you mean to m-”

“Aegon, please.” She tries to pull away now, but he winds his hand into the hair at the nape of her neck and presses forward. Wine-stained lips crushing against the curve of her nose, fluttering across her brow like the gentle wings of a cotton moth as it devours silks and linen allied— devourer of all things beautiful and plain. 

He drags his lips to hers finally, soaking her up in a way only someone as depraved as he could. It’s like stretching out upon a rock after not feeling the son for years, like stripping yourself of shackles you’ve worn since birth. Her lips are chapped, a split in her lips from all the worrying she does to the poor thing scratches along his upper. He surges forward, pulling her so fully against him that it fills some empty part of him, like a puzzle piece that’s never been slotted into place. But oh —how it has— and how it always disappears just as quickly as it comes to him. He licks at her bottom lip, sucks it into his mouth and shudders out a breath as she reciprocates. Her lashes fluttering against his cheeks as they finally shut, as she cups his neck and presses her butterfly kisses onto him, licks into his mouth as she breathes hotly across his face in a way only Aegon can enjoy.

He nips at her tongue accidentally, overexcited and eager as he is. And that seems to bring her back from whatever hole he had dragged her into. But he persists, hand drifting down to the smooth metal of her necklace as he thumbs at a jewel. He tries to savour her presence even as her face scrunches and her fingers fist the hairs behind his ears. It nearly pains Aegon, with the way his head tilts away from her just slightly, Adams apple jumping against pale skin as he stares oh-so adoringly, heady breaths stinking of wine fanning her bruised lips.

“We could start a family in Essos. As many children as you want.” He desperately reaches for her again.

“Aegon.” 

“A home in Braavos, on the beach. Where we could lo-”

A hiccuped sob that withers in her throat is what stops him, punches the wind from his lungs.

Her lips are pursed and her hands have loosed upon his hair and move to cup his ruddy cheeks. Nails pressing into the flesh of his face hazardously. His eyes are dark and his lips part as he stares up at her, he sees the tears edging along her waterline. That deep frown she has when she’s trying not to cry, whether it's about something he had done or when she’s ordered by their Grandsire to stop her hysterics.

“Aegon,” It’s a sullen whisper as she lets his face go entirely, fingers slipping down his chest before they land in her lap again. “I am not a trueborn daughter. I will never be. I am not right in the mind. I will birth lunatics and monsters and wailing death. You can’t love me.”

He doesn’t know what to say, for once he has no sharp-tongued quip or comment. He pushed her from a height, just when she had finally reached the top of her spire. He retracts, fingers loosening from the grip he had on her pale hair, and lets her fall back onto the plush of her bed as she stares up at him like he’s burnt her. Like he’s dragged a dagger across the soft of her flesh and told her he never loved her. She pushes herself away, curling in on herself as tears cut through the flush of her cheeks. A wobbly exhale, and another as he drags a hand through her hair.

Her fingers dance down her neck and across the skin of her arms where they find home on the pale scars marring the upper parts of her arms. He can see her fingertips quivering with the urge to dig. To pull at chords of muscle beneath her skin and scratch at her bones. She had told him about things she saw. Things that hunted at the edge of her vision and scattered when she went looking. Dreams that came to the waking world with her. A pale man with the stench of darkness seeping from his pores.

“I love yo-” He leans forward to comfort her. 

“You don’t.”

“I know that I love you.”

“You know nothing, Aegon.” She pulls herself to the edge of the bed and drags herself to stand, the silk bedsheets slip away and her goosebumps raise upon her bruise-marred skin, she’s as bare as the day she was born. Her throat is too tight and her necklace feels heavy as she stumbles to the secret passage, she slips from the room unbidden and leaves a smudge of blood on the wooden grain of the bookcase as Aegon sits in her bed. Salty tears of his own roll down his face as he clenches and unclenches his fists.

[electric-blorbos]

SELFSHIPTOBER DAY 1! Confession/night

Character X Reader!

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, HAL 9000 from 2001 a space Odyssey

Notice to anyone who found me through the selfshiptober tag, while this blog is themed around AI characters, this blog does not support the use of actual AI in creative fields.

Warning for general assholery from the AI, workplace sexual harassment, fear of the dark

AM:

It was well past time for you to be going home, but your job demanded that you stay late tonight. You were sitting at your desk, several empty coffee cups lined up behind your keyboard as you struggled to stay awake.

"damn..." You muttered, rubbing your eyes. This sucked. You loved AM, but the eerie creaks in the facility at night were starting to creep you out, and your sleepy brain wasn't doing you any favors. Everything just seemed so much scarier at night!

"12:00 midnight, October first, 2024" said AM. If not for common sense, you could've sworn he sounded tired too.

"I'm gonna get some more coffee, alright AM?" You said, your voice breaking the heavy, almost palpable silence that had fallen as soon as AM stopped talking. It seemed shaky, but it cut through the dark silence of the facility.

AM said nothing, instead letting you get to your feet and walk into the hall. The cheap plastic flooring designed to look like floorboards creaked underneath your feet as you walked to the break room. Shadows from the trees outside danced on the ceiling, the blue light from AM's monitors in the other offices casting a pale, eerie glow across the whole scene.

You took a few steps, and then bolted down the hallway to the break room. The room was completely pitch black except for the little red glowing dot over the security camera. You turned on all three lights, and started making your coffee.

As you brewed your coffee, two of the lights in the room flickered and died. This place was running on a pretty low budget, so that wasn't too uncommon, but it still made you twitch a little bit. An echo could be heard across the room. Laughter, like a fat old woman's laughter. You glanced around again. This was normal... This was totally normal.

Your coffee finished brewing, so you grabbed the cup and raced out of the break room. You made sure to turn the light on, because getting chewed out by your boss for wasting power in war time was much, much worse than having to worry about monsters or whatever might be lurking in the shadows of the break room.

You ran towards your office, and found that the door had auto-locked itself. You fumbled for your keycard, but you'd dropped it in the break room! Fuck! You'd have to go back.

When you walked back to the break room and searched around for your key card, the office phone started ringing. You picked it up, but it was just heavy breathing. The code on the back of the phone showed that it was an internal call. You hung up the phone. Your eye twitched, and you spotted your keys poking out from under the couch.

When you headed back into your office, you heard absolutely nothing. The AM screen logos in each of the offices around you started shutting down, one by one. Even still, you managed to unlock the door by the faint glow of the moonlight through the window. The door creaked slowly open, and you stepped inside.

"AAAA!" AM screamed, turning his screen back on. You jumped, scrambling backwards and spilling your coffee.

"You were the one who called me, weren't you!"

AM laughed hysterically. You flipped him off with both hands.

"FUCK YOU! you're a real piece of work, you know that?"

"you love me."

"Yeah yeah, whatever." You sat down in your chair, and got back to monitoring AM.

Wheatley:

Wheatley had never been outside at night. Hell, he'd never been outside the facility at all. He was used to lights that could be turned on and off at his discretion, so when you checked him out for the night he had no idea what to expect.

"the sun sets early this time of year, so it's going to be pretty dark." You said, and walked to the door to open it. Wheatley made a "pch" sound.

"PCH, who needs the sun? I'm not scared of the dark anyway! I love the nighttime!"

You rolled your eyes, and walked out of the building. Wheatley was pretty cumbersome, so it would be a bit difficult to carry him all the way home, but you were sure you'd manage.

As you walked, Wheatley's lens-eye moved around nervously. Your shadow was long and flickered slightly in the street lights.

"It's pretty, uh, big out here, isn't it, love?" Wheatley asked nervously. You frowned a little.

"I mean, yeah. It's outside."

"lotta cars and buildings out here.."

"Sure are."

"Love it! Love that! I especially love that you can't see too much of it. It sure is dark... That's great, too..." He kept rambling, eye darting around more and more quickly.

"Ugh..." You muttered eventually, and sat down on a park bench. Your arms were starting to get tired from carrying a huge metal ball all the way back to your house, and you needed to rest them for a second.

"No! No no no! I mean- hey, love! Please don't set me down. We can keep moving! Your place has to just be a few blocks away, right? Ah!"

His eye fixed on a strange man who was walking down the street. Or rather, Wheatley thought he was strange. He wasn't wearing a jumpsuit or a labcoat, so he must've been up to something sinister.

You watched the man walk off into the distance. He stumbled a little. Probably just a drunk guy going home from the bar. Who really cared, though? He was just a guy doing his own thing. Not really a threat to you.

You got to your feet, stretched casually, and picked up Wheatley.

"alright, can we go home now?" Wheatley asked. If he'd had muscles, they would have been trembling from nerves right now.

"Wheatley, I walk this route all the time. We're going to be fine. Don't worry." You patted his casing, and kept walking until you got to your apartment.

"alright, we're here. You can stop freaking out." You set him on the couch, turned the light on, and gave him a little kiss on his casing.

Edgar:

You sat bolt upright, shivering and shaking. You didn't usually get nightmares and night terrors, but you guessed today was the exception. Your heart was beating at 100 mph, and you were shaking like a leaf.

"holy fuck..." You stumbled to your feet, and leaned against the wall.

"Hey Edgar, could you turn the lights on?"

Edgar booted up, a little shakily because of how old he was, and turned the lights on. You walked into the living room, where he was sitting at his desk.

"hey Eggy..." You gave him a kiss on the top of his head, and slumped down into his desk chair. You were still in your pajamas, and the glow of his screen and the kitchen lights was pretty blinding.

"could you dim everything, cutie?" You hugged your knees, shaking a little. Your dream was still haunting you. Edgar wanted so badly to put out his arms to comfort you, but he didn't have any!

"are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna be fine, eggy... Can you turn the coffee maker on?"

"But it's three in the morning!"

"I don't care... I'm not going back to sleep..." You shook your head nervously, squeezing your eyes shut. You couldn't... You couldn't go back.

"You can just... Not sleep?"

"Well, not really. I just need some time before I can go back to sleep." You picked up his keyboard and nuzzled up to it, holding it for comfort. Edgar smiled. He liked it when you did that. You got up, grabbed your coffee, and sat back down with Edgar to sip on it while you spent the rest of the night awake with him.

GLaDOS:

It was pretty late at night when you went down to GLaDOS's chambers. You wouldn't usually come down here this late, but GLaDOS had called you in to run some special maintenance. She looked down at you with her great orange eye.

"Finally. You're here. I was wondering when you'd show up."

You put your hand on your hip and cocked it slightly.

"you're welcome for showing up this late at night to work on you. Now where's the problem."

"It's in my heart."

You frowned a little.

"like... In your- where? You don't have-"

"It's been stolen."

"is this a prank?" You squinted up at her. She raised a table out of the ground with a simple tablecloth and a basket of bread, a pitcher of water, and a flower in a vase. You stumbled back slightly.

"GLaDOS, what is this? Is this a date? Did you call me down here in the middle of the night to go on a date with you? Is that what's happening?"

Glados narrowed her eye.

"If you're going to ask as many questions as my curiosity core, maybe I don't want to go on a date with you. Now sit down and eat the bread."

You sat down and took a piece of bread. It was decent. The water was nice, too.

"Why do you want to go on a date with me, GLaDOS?" You asked, and took another bite of bread. It was surprisingly warm and buttery.

"well, I've come to a realization. Your kindness is unusual for a human. As is your intelligence. Perhaps I didn't realize it, but I seem to have found myself with... Ugh. Feelings. And they seem to have embedded themselves deeply into my programming. To delete them would be to break myself fundamentally."

You stared up at her blankly.

"GLaDOS, you're nuts. There's no way in hell you have feelings for me."

"I do. And now, I'm adding 'being my significant other' to your list of responsibilities."

You got to your feet.

"GLaDOS, that's sexual harassment, and is completely against the rules!"

"The rules?" She tilted her head, and leaned in close to you.

"what do I care about the rules? I'm not human, and thus the law doesn't apply to me. Or did you forget about what happened on bring your daughter to work day. I've always been above petty things like that, human. Now, are you willing to stake your job on testing me, just to see if I'm really under the control of workplace harassment laws?"

You swallowed hard, and shook your head.

"no, I'm not."

"Good human." She lowered a claw from the ceiling, and gently patted you on the head.

HAL 9000:

It was late, late at night. You were working the night shift at mission control with Hal, and everyone else in the facility seemed to be out. You knew your boss was in his office, but right now it really felt like you were alone in the building. The hall light was off, and you were sitting in the mission control room with HAL 9000.

"So, HAL, we're all alone together." You said, twirling your finger in a circle on the table.

"that's correct." Said HAL 9000. He was secretly extremely excited to be alone with you, but he had a bit of trouble expressing that.

You leaned in a bit, gazing lovingly at HAL 9000. He was so perfect.

"You know, Hal... I really like you."

He didn't say anything for a minute, but eventually he made a "mhmm" sound. You frowned a little.

"How does that make you feel?"

"Well, I don't exactly know what it means to feel as though I truly like someone, but I do know that I care much more than I usually would about what happens to you. I feel better when you're around. I... Enjoy you."

Your face lit up a little bit, and you almost giggled.

"oh man... You're so logical, HAL. And that's what I love about you." You stroked the glass around his lens, and he started whirring a bit louder. He loved you so much, but he could barely show it. He could barely feel it. His emotions felt like they were locked behind glass at all times, and yet somehow, through all that, he knew deep down that he loved you.

"I love you too, y/n."

[sameschmidtdiffname]

heyyyy can I pls req something where Mike tries to make it up to the reader after he says something wrong in their 1st fight as a couple? like “I don’t want to lose you�� as an apology and they get back together or something along those lines? tysm I really enjoy ur work :))

But of course!!!

Wanting, Waiting

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: Overworked and underfed, you'll go to sleep once some decent work is complete. However, a late night turns into a day long fight.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no gender specific pronouns for Reader, pre-established relationship, argument, cursing, Reader and Mike both got some shit going on, hints of an eating disorder, overworking, hurt/comfort, crying, mentions of: suicide/death, depression, drugging, and kidnapping. Vulnerability is gross.

Notes: 'Slip' walked so this could run full speed into a brick wall. I feel as though I may have redeemed myself.

                     ▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

This page is mocking me.

The hour is late. I stopped checking the clock around 2:00 A.M., and there's a cup of cold coffee right next to me on this table, several rings on the inside from where the coffee had been left sitting far too long. It's cheap, the flavor sticking to my teeth in a way that settles my lips into a slight grimace as I try to convince my hand to move my pen across the just as cheap notebook paper that has been sitting in front of me since I came home.

Come on. It's words. What the fuck is hard about this?

'It's not hard if you can actually get your head out of your ass and do something,' I think to myself. Not helping.

I have an irritating collection of drafts. Oh yes, I can start them and I can certainly plan out the works before me. But actually writing is somehow impossible, and even though I can feel how thick the block is in my mind, preventing me from communicating my feelings properly, I just can't get break myself out of it.

Come on. Finish one draft. Then everything will click together for the rest.

For the past few weeks it's been just like this. Come home, sit down with projects, and try. But no matter what I do, I just can't focus. It's as though my head simply won't allow it. And this house, quite frankly, isn't helping. It's admittedly unsettling atmosphere, the loud noises born from nothing. It's as though I can feel the weight of the dead that used to sit at the same glass table as I watching me over my shoulder, pressing their non-existent weight against me, making my chest tight with pressure I cannot voice because that's not fair to the ones still here truly haunted by their presence. I'm just a guest who overextends their stay, quite frankly.

Just a page. Just write a page and you can get up for a moment. Ignore how loud the fridge is at something clunks inside of it.

A page. Get a page. Come on, you imbecile, how hard is a fucking pa-

"I thought we talked about this."

It's a testament to my mental state how high I manage to jump in my chair, my tired and over-caffinated heart set off to make me dizzy with over exertion from fear, turning to see who has come to voice their thoughts and damn us both with them.

"Mike," I sigh. I place a hand on my chest, rubbing slightly at the spot where I feel my heart pounding against my sore ribs. "Don't do that."

"Have you slept at all?" Mike asks disapprovingly. His arms are crossed against his chest, heavy bags under his eyes from another night of restless dreams. He can't sleep, I won't sleep. If he'd allow it, we could actually get shit done this time of day.

"A little," I lie. He's just worried. About everything. He always is, which at first was something I loved about him. And usually I still do. It's an admirable trait, to care about someone and love them so much it's only natural to fret over them, to check and make sure they're taken care of properly.

Except it makes me feel guilty.

"Oh yeah? What time?" He asks, narrowing his sleep swollen eyes at me.

Details. Fuck.

"Ah, uh- I don't know, I wasn't looking at the clock," I say sheepishly, trying to flash a disarming smile and make my own bags look like ones of bare minimum rest instead of self neglect. Mike's jaw tightens slightly.

"Oh?" He says in a dull voice that is not raised, yet managed to ring throughout the room nonetheless.

I hum affirmatively, pressing my lips together and fiddling with the cheap pen in my hands, glancing down at it in an attempt at trying not to give myself away.

"Yeah, I don't know. Just like, laid my head on the book and... y'know... drifted off for a couple hours," I try to say casually.

"Ah," he says as though that were enough, leaning now against the doorframe of the hallway, looking at the other wall as though the paint were interesting. "How long after I went to bed, do you think?"

Keep your breathing even. He can smell fear. "Like, a couple," I answer with a shrug.

"Or, like, not at all," he says, turning his head back to stare down at me with a glare.

"I slept," I insist.

"Bullshit. You give me unnecessary detail about your shits post mexican take-out, but you can't tell me what time you fell asleep?" He says accusingly.

"I was asleep! I'm sorry, do you want me to lie and give some time because you need it for some reason?" I ask evenly, shrugging as though to ask what he'd like me to say, blinking at him and adding a tired tinge of a croak to my voice to match his.

"I'm sorry?" He asks, eyes still in narrow slits yet somehow widening slightly, his leg uncrossing from over the other and planting firmly on the floor as he stands straight.

He's not that tall. Kinda short. But he looks much bigger when mad. Kinda like an iguana. I told him that one time and got bit. Jokingly, of course. It's not like he'd just reach over and sna- You know what? Irrelevant.

"I'm just saying," I say, starting to turn back to my notebook as though the conversation were finished.

"No-no, I'd like to hear that again," he says. I can hear his footsteps pad against the flat, tan carpet, my shoulders stiffening slightly as I train my decreasingly neutral eyes on the wrinkled, lined paper in front of me. "I liked the part where you made me sound like some insecure teenager for calling you out on your shit. Very original."

My lips press into a thin line, my grip on my pen tightening slightly.

"It's not that serious, Mikey-"

"Don't bullshit me, and don't use some cheap nickname as a cop out via sympathy," Mike snaps, standing now on the opposite side of the table, pressing his hands now against the glass surface that dirties so easily. Trust me, we've had to clean some prints off of it.

There's a line, and at some point I'm going to cross it. The problem is it's hidden under mental sand that makes me unclear of exactly where it is.

"Michael-"

"That's formal," he says, leaning forward on the table, his tone the same as an interrogating mother just waiting for the moment where no one will blame her for finally tearing you to shreds for what you've said to her outwardly innocent statements. A trap.

"I'm sorry, I thought you didn't like cheap nicknames?" I say, fighting the irritation in my voice, barely managing to remain even as I click my pen to begin writing.

"What's wrong with just Mike?" He asks. He reaches across the table, placing all five of his fingertips on my paper firmly and dragging it back across the table towards him, withholding it from me.

"Would you like me to use just Mike?" I ask.

"I'd like you to make eye contact while you lie through your fucken teeth," he says calmly, not moving as he continues to stare me down.

"Okay, Mike. And what exactly does my sleep schedule mean to you?" I ask slowly, trailing my eyes from his hand, slowly up his arm with pronounced veins and muscles, to the white cotton shirt that was two sizes too large and usually what he wore to sleep in, until I meet his dark and slightly hateful eyes.

"We had a conversation," he starts.

"A conversation," I repeat.

"About a month ago, do you remember?" He asks, cocking his head slightly in that way it does when we both know I'm not going to dare to answer with anything other than he wants.

"You ha-"

"I had a concern," he interrupts me, now looking down at the notebook and studying it as though it were a piece of fine art. "Which involved how absolutely awful your ability is to take care of yourself properly."

"Mike-"

"Shut. Up." Mike says with disturbing calmness. "I'm talking."

Fine.

"It's fucking rude."

Not saying it's not.

"Like your attitude when I try to just help you because clearly, you can't help yourself," he says, now slapping down the notebook to gesture at me as though it were obvious why he was concerned.

I could speak. I'd like to. And he gives me a long enough silence I could. But instead I decide I will simply give him the floor.

"No opinion on this?" He asks shortly.

"No," I say with a dismissive shrug. "You seem to have them for me."

Mike laughs at this statement, and if the sparkle in his eyes didn't seem to have the same dull shine as the glass table between us I'd feel a bit better about it. But I think there's a six foot hole in the backyard I just signed a lease on that makes his disturbingly convincing smile much more worrisome.

"You're funny," he says affectationately. "Get up."

"What?" I ask, blinking.

"Are you deaf now? Up," he says in irritation, beginning to cross back around the table. "This isn't a negotiation."

Before I can speak his hands dig in under my armpits, roughly pulling me to stand and bringing me close to his chest. I should have energy to fight back, I've only been sitting after all. But a physical confrontation would be too loud, first of all. Abby is asleep in her room, and I don't want to make a scene to wake the poor child. Number two, my bones are sore, my head is aching and I generally just do not feel well enough to protest. Physically.

"Put me down, you son of a bitch!"

Verbally, I'm fine.

"You're going to bed, that's final!"

"I have twelve drafts due that I have to get done or else this project-"

"You have four hours of sleep you can get before you have to take your candy ass to work in the fucken morning, or else I'm gonna beat it into you," he hisses directly in my ear, his breath cold and loud so close to me. Jesus, fuck. What did his parents feed him as a child? It shouldn't be this easy for him.

"Oh, I don't do what you want and now you threaten physical violence. Very mature," I mock, reaching out to grip the doorframe of Mike's bedroom, purely to piss him off.

"Save me the dramatics," he snaps in a whisper, wrapping one arm tighter around my waist and using the other to bat my hands away from the frame. I can tell he's genuinely trying not to hurt me, his grip on one wrist firm but careful.

"Just let me write one page," I try.

"That's what you said last night," he says, still trying to pull my hand away. My nails have dug into the frame, making it slightly harder. I can sense his irritation growing. "You got two hours of sleep."

"That's not going to kill me," I argue.

"You haven't slept for more than two hours in a week," he says.

One nail breaks against the frame, making me lose my grip and sending pain down my arm from the awkward angle at which the pressure had snapped it off. I wince slightly, which gives Mike slight pause as he checks my hand, but decides I'm alright before he begins dragging me towards the bed in earnest.

"Why is it so hard for you to just take care of yourself?" Mike asks in frustration.

"I take care of myself!" I say defensively. Mike drops me onto the bed, standing in front of me to prevent any new attempts at escape.

"No, you don't," he says, quiet but firm. "You sit and stare at your notebook and you don't do anything else if you can help it. You sleep for two hours, you go to work, you hardly eat, you don't have energy anymore." Mike's hands are planted firmly on his hips, his nostrils flailing as he tries to take collected, calm breaths. "I care about you. Why can't you?"

"Michael-"

"Stop!" Mike snaps, groaning and turning away from me with a sharp spin on his heel. He buries his hands in his hair in frustration, now pacing between the bed and the door, quietly shutting it so we can argue in peace.

"Why are you so upset?" I ask, genuinely confused.

"Because I don't want to see you live like this. I am concerned and every time I bring it up you dismiss me, you joke, you don't care and I hate that," Mike says, temporarily stopped in his tracks to point at me as he seethes. "I'm watching you waste away and you know what? I'm starting to think part of you likes it."

"Excuse me?" I say, astounded. I cross my arms in front of my chest, cocking my head at him in a way to say 'I dare you to repeat that.'

"You heard me," Mike says, taking a step towards me. "It's like you cannot for one iota of a second conceive of some world where taking care of yourself is a good use of your time. You work, and work until you've burned yourself out so horribly you rot in bed for a month. And unless you're staying here, I hear nothing from you. Not a call, not a fuck you or whatever. It's like you're punishing yourself."

"Now who's being dramatic?" I say.

"See? I can't even point this out without you getting defensive, which just shows you know you're in the wrong!" Mike turns away from me once more, resuming his path of restless walking.

"Why do you even care?" I ask genuinely. This makes him pause again, his glare once more returning to me as he mentally questions my intelligence.

"You know what, I don't know!" Mike snaps, his voice gaining volume. "You are insistent in this fucking- slow method suicide and I'm trying to help you, but you won't let me!"

"I never asked you to care," I scoff, rolling my eyes.

"I never asked to care!" Mike nearly shouts, leaning in close to my face and sneering at me.

This breaks the tension.

His face falls as soon as the words are out of his mouth, his eyes widening slightly like my own eyes. This comment shouldn't really sting. I shouldn't let it. But it does. And for a moment, I do. And he sees that clearly.

"... oh," I say softly, my arms relaxing and shoulders sagging ever so slightly as I drop his gaze, trying to shut off my emotions before they're obvious.

"I'm sorry," Mike says quickly, stumbling to his knees in front of me. "I didn't mean that-"

"It's fine," I say, trying to remain as blank as my pages on the kitchen table.

"I just said it to be hurtful," Mike says quickly, his hand reaching up to cup my face. I take it away, turning my head to the side slightly. There's a new chill in the air, one I can feel seizing my chest.

"You weren't," I say. "I'm going to sleep."

"Please, I don't want-"

"I'm going to sleep," I say forcefully, shoving him away and turning to begin undressing from my work clothes that I still wore. Mike is silent behind me, probably thinking, and I'm close to not being able to hold myself together anymore.

"Get out!" I snap, flinging my shirt at him in a rage and beginning to stand from the bed to chase him out. He doesn't need anymore prompt, quickly scurrying out from the room to wherever it is he'll sleep now. Probably on the couch even though there's another room down the hall. A self induced punishment. Knowing him he probably won't even allow himself a blanket or pillow, feeling the cold air fitting for his selfishness.

Good.

-

When I wake that morning, I can smell breakfast in the air. My stomach hurts from skipping meals, but I don't want to eat. First of all, I haven't worked for a meal. There's still plenty to be done with my drafts. And food is a good encouragement to keep working. Second, I didn't ask him to care. And he didn't ask for it either. There probably isn't enough for me, and if there is, he and Abby can debate between the two who will have it. I need to shower.

I take forever washing myself. If that's what you want to call it. It was moreso standing under hot water, letting it run cold until I couldn't stand it anymore and hoping my deodorant is able to do some heavy lifting today. I barely have enough time to get to work, passing silently by Mike and not turning when he calls my name, walking out the door as fast as I can without running.

He follows me outside, something shaking in a bag behind me. When I finally open my car door I'm forced to have my gaze in his direction, his body between the door frame and my car door, presenting me with a bag of lunch.

"Please eat," he begs, placing the bag in my lap unceremoniously and then quickly stepping away and shutting the door himself.

There's a small moment where he and I just share at each other through the glass, time slipping away without notice. He hasn't slept, he'll be late for work if he doesn't get dressed soon, and the bag on top of my thighs is warm. Fresh. A petty part of me wants to roll down my window and throw away the meal, back out of the drive way and let that fester in his mind out of hate. He thinks words can hurt? Actions are so much worse.

But there's something in his eyes. Defeated, resigned. Childlike is almost the word I could use. In front of my car is the 12 year old boy who tried to chase down his brother, the 18 year old who decided to sacrifice his life raising his little sister while saying goodbye to his parents, and the 27 year old man who's just trying to keep everything together.

I don't know what to say to this child. Or to the man.

So, with the turn of my key in the ignition, I don't.

-

It's late when I come home. When the manager had asked me to stay late I almost called Mike to break the silence and tell him this. But there was still a part of me that didn't care whether or not he knew. Really, I didn't have to return home tonight. I could go back to my apartment and just let him rot in bed the way he claims I do. How could he say such a thing, anyways? I rot in bed? What about the days I've walked into the house and he hasn't slept all week, where he's claiming he's trying to kick his medication and he'll get the hang of it soon. Where his sister is eating every meal almost burnt because he can't think straight enough to remember time. Where I've had to coax, beg, demand of him that he just takes a pill because he's laying on the side of the bed, small and curled in on himself, dead eyed and obviously tired but still not sleeping. One time I slipped it into his food. And I felt awful. Do not think for a moment I wanted to do that. There was a betrayel in his eyes when sleep began to overtake him. I hoped he wouldn't notice, but he must've. Some tell in the drugs effect that made him aware his rest was not voluntary. But I didn't care. I stroked his hair through the night, and I'll do it again. He could hate me however long he needed to, he just needed sleep first.

The irony still hasn't struck me when I walk through the door of his house, well past dinner, Abby in the bath. The door was left unlocked, which is unusual for this time of night. Mike jumps from the couch the minute I open the door, standing with his hands by his side anxiously pulling at the edge of his oversized sweater.

Everything's oversized with him. The thought occurs to me that his father was slightly bigger.

"Don't leave me," he says quietly, his voice small and pathetic like him. But I don't say that with hate.

"I just got home," I say. "Be a bit odd to leave again."

I try a smile, but it's artificial and we both know it's only for his comfort. It doesn't touch him, his eyes glassy and lips slightly parted the same way a child's is when they're trying to breathe as their sinuses spring to life in wake of forming tears.

"I didn't mean it," he says, still standing in the same place. If I was a better person I'd probably run to him. But I'm not.

If I were a better person, I'd say I believe him. But I don't. And suddenly my throat is swollen with hurt, my own bottom lip is sticking out and now we're both trying not to cry because this is so overly taxing. We're adults but emotions are hard. Vulnerability is hard. It is a damnation that we both detest, both avoid. In better states we would joke about this, would laugh and tease the other for not having the emotional capability to voice our thoughts. But we're not. So we don't. And now we're crying openly in the off-putting, attempted to look cozy living room that we can never fully relax in.

"I don't wanna lose you," he says between small hiccups, hands now balled into fists that he buries under opposite armpits, shifting his weight so that he doesn't look so small. His glances bounce between me and the hallway table, never fixing on either of us as he tries to state his mind like an adult. "I've barely had you."

In my heart there has been a constant ache, hurt flowing and pumping through my veins like the blood that ran cold last night at his hurtful words. His apologetic words make the ache somehow worse.

"I don't mean to be a burden to you," I say softly, feeling a small, stray tear break the fluid barrier of my waterline to race down my cheek, allowing a pathway to the fatter drops that threaten to quickly follow.

Mike's face shifts, stepping towards me and holding out his arms.

"No, never," he says just as soft, trying to comfort me. I freeze as he approaches, my body stiffening as I try to swallow the lump and convince myself that I can survive his touch. His touch that I normally crave the moment I'm around him, that I seek in the dark of night even when the bed is overheating, that I'd go insane without.

"I've never asked you to care," I say, voice breaking and tears rolling freely now.

"I know," he says into my neck, which is wetting as he shakes around me, his grasp firm and careless of whether or not it's too much.

"I don't mean to cause problems. I just...." I don't know what I mean, how I wish to finish the statement. If I was clever, I could. If I was clever, I wouldn't even be in this problem to begin with.

"I'm just scared," he chokes out, his breathing horrible as he struggles to keep his crying from being obvious. "You look sick all the time and I don't want that."

He's told me the story. His mother wasting away, thinning and slipping, starving and dying. How he'd returned home to a baby wailing in her crib as their mothers body lay in a pool of blood he never really got out of the carpet. He lied to me initially when I saw it the first time, said it was wine. It wasn't until we had a few glasses ourselves that his eyes glazed over and he told me. It was disturbing how neutral he kept himself to the subject. A habit he'd developed much too long ago to break.

"Mike-"

"I try, and I try and if something doesn't give soon I'm gonna fucking lose it," he sobs into my skin, arms tightening around me.

"If what doesn't give?" I ask softly, trying to pull him away to look into his eyes. But he doesn't budge, sobbing a little bit harder and gripping a little bit tighter. He doesn't respond, simply shaking as he breathes heavily against me through his mouth.

"Hey," I say softly, trying to wrap my arms around him, failing and giving up as I realize his grip is too tight. "I'm not going anywhere."

His mouth closes a little, quieting his breathing slightly as he sniffles.

"I'm an idiot, but I'm not suicidal," I say softly, trying again for a joke. He doesn't laugh, but he does pull away slightly to look at my face, lips swollen and quivering as he blinks at me.

"You scare me," he says quietly, not quite meeting my eyes. He's watching my lips, but I think that's because that's the closest he can get to making eye contact.

"I scare you?" I ask, furrowing my brows. I lick my dry, cracked lips for comfort. "Why?"

"Because I love you," he says shakily, sighing as though it were exhausting to admit while still holding that nervous flicker in his eyes. "Because when I think about not being with you the house seems colder. And I can't go back to hating this house."

I open my mouth to respond, but there's more.

"Because I love your stupid smile when you're excited, or how you do that cricket leg thing when you're falling asleep. Or how if you want my attention you'll bury your head in my chest and pretend you're doing it in your sleep even though I won't judge you for doing it while you're awake."

"I don't-"

"I love how defensive you get over things like that," he says, bringing one hand to cup my cheek, resting his thumb that smells like the creamy lavender handsoap next to the bathroom sink on my lips. "I love how you look waking up next to me, how you play with Abby. And for a really long time I didn't see myself ever having kids, but when I see you curling her hair at the kitchen table I think maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I just took up another job and saved money so that we could-"

"Mike-"

"Stop cutting me off," he says gently, his eyes finally meeting mine with just the smallest smile. "It's rude."

At that I do stop, my body finally relaxing into his grasp as I lean into him and his touch.

"I want things I haven't wanted since before Garret went missing," he says, stroking my lip. "And I want them with you."

Dinner was just as delicious as lunch, even if it was late. And the bed is soft like our voices as we make plans for years down the line. And after a week long break, the pages are finally filled once again.

Just like us.

                             ¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

Literally had a come to Jesus moment while writing this that not only do I fear being vulnerable irl, but in writing too. Nearly threw up while writing this. Book aable feet.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

               •▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

[dsireland86]

The Fight

The tears won't stop. No matter how many stupid deep breaths I take, no matter how many times I wipe my eyes. The damn things keep coming. I place my hand over the stinging red mark on the side of my face, the spot where my boyfriend slapped me moments ago. He saw the message on my phone and accused me of cheating on him; with my best friend. I told him he's fucking crazy and that earned me the slap.

I'm shaking as I walk up the pathway to the front door, trying to keep myself together. I know once I get inside, into my friends arms, everything will be better.

I press the doorbell and wait. The door swings open, revealing an annoyed looking Noah.

"Why are you ringing the doorbell? I thought we had this discussion already?"

I shrug my shoulders without looking up.

"Oh no, don't tell me he hurt you again? Wait, did he hit you!"

Noah sighs and pulls me by the sleeve of my hoodie into the house, closing the door behind us.

"Look at me," Noah demands.

"It still hurts like a motherfucker. I don't know if the red mark is still there, though," I sniff, finally able to control my tears.

"Yeah," Noah replies, turning my head a little, "it's still there. Folio is going to lose his shit!"

"FOLIO! YOUR BFF'S HERE! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!" Jolly yells up the stairs before turning to me.

"Damn," he states, shaking his head and reaching over to caress my damp cheek. "What the hell is wrong with that shit-head?"

Tears well up in my eyes, and I grimace at the sting of their saltiness running down the side of my face.

"Okay, it's alright, come here," Jolly sighs, pulling me into his embrace and caressing the back of my head. I bury my face in his chest until I hear the sound of Folio's feet coming down the stairs.

"What's wrong? What happened?" he asks, voice filled with worry.

"Take a guess," Noah answers, still annoyed.

"Oh no, again? Fuck!"

I feel Folio’s hand on my shoulder, and I immediately release Jolly, only to turn around and fall right into the arms of the only guy who knows how to heal my heart. I start to sob, and Nick lets me, wrapping his strong drummer arms around my waist as I lock mine around his neck.

"Shhh, it's alright. I've got you. You're safe now."

I melt into Folio's words, trusting and believing him completely. I'm thankful for his friendship and comfort. I'd be lost without it.

"Nick," I mumble against his neck.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"I'm so tired. Can we go somewhere and lay down for a minute? I can't think straight."

"You got it, doll," he agrees, scooping me up bridal style like my weight is nothing to him.

I throw my arms around his neck and snuggle into the comfort of his embrace, thankful I have such a great friend like Nick who cares about me the way he does.

We enter his room and the light smell of weed mixed with his cologne and natural scent engulf my senses. I take a deep breath, breathing in as much of Folio as I can. Sighing, he lays me down in his bed, removing my shoes and socks before turning the blankets up over me. His scent surrounds me, making me safe, protected, and... loved.

My eyes fly open at the thought of that word to describe mine and Nick's relationship. There's no chance he would ever feel that way about me, so why would I let my mind wander in that direction? Do I want him to feel that way about me? Do I even feel that way about him? My heart his pounding at the what I might be confessing to myself.

"Relax," Folio says, brushing the loose hair out of my eyes. I looked up at him through sleepy eyes, seeing he's already staring at me. He smiles softly, then leans down and places a soft kiss on my forehead. The feeling of his warm lips on my skin does something to me like never before, and the way he lingers a little longer than normal has my heart racing. There have been plenty of forehead kisses in the past. Why does this one feel different? I close my eyes, suddenly too sleepy to care.

Folio stays a little while as I drift into a semi-sleep. I feel the bed shift as he gets up to leave, making me panic at the thought of his absence. I don't know why I'm suddenly too scared to be alone. "No, don't leave, come back; stay with me, please," I plead through a groggy voice.

"I thought you were asleep," Nick sighs, sitting back down next to me. I hum in response. "I don't know what means," he mumbles, climbing over top me and on to the other side of the bed. Instinctively, I roll over to face him. He's flat on his back, with his left arm tucked beneath his head and the other one resting on his chest. He looks at me, and even through sleepy eyes, I can see the slight gleam in them. My heart flutters. Folio pats his chest and then opens his arm to me, indicating he wants me close. I'm so tired that I don't even think twice about scooching closer, finding the perfect spot in the nook of his shoulder. I rest my head on his chest and cuddle into him like he's my own personal teddy bear, sighing loudly and relaxing fully for the first time since the fight. He chuckles as I get comfortable and throw a leg over top his. He makes no effort to move me or push me away, but instead squeezes me tighter and kisses the top of my head. He takes my hand that's lying on his chest, brings it to his lips, and begins to softly kiss each one of my fingers. The feeling is incredible. I turn my face up to look at him.

"You're pretty endearing when you're half asleep. Why can't you be like this more often?"

"Shut-up, Nick!" I scold him, poking my finger in his side and earning me a grunt followed by a chuckle.

We're both silent for moment, basking in the feeling of our bodies being this close together for the first time ever. Folio continues to kiss the tips of my fingers, running them over his dry lips.

"You need to dump his ass. You deserve so much better."

I tense up at just the thought of being alone. I hug Folio a little tighter.

"You know you're not alone, right? You know you wouldn't be alone if you leave him," he tells me convincingly as if he can read my mind.

"Oh yeah, and just who is going to be my babysitter? He and I have a two year history, Nick. I can't just up and leave that."

"Yes, you can."

"No, I can't," I reply, getting annoyed.

Nick slides out from under me, and I think I've made him mad until he grabs my arms and pins me to the bed, hoovering overtop me. Every part of me is frozen, unmovable from what's happening right now. The trout that hangs from the silver chain around his neck dangles down in front of my eyes as he stares down at me with a fire in his eyes, one that I've never seen before. It's intoxicating and mesmerizing, and I can't look away.

"Yes... you can. I'm sick to death of watching you go through this. You deserve so much better. Why can't you see it?"

My eyes dart in between Folio's as his face becomes blurry from the tears filling my eyes. They seep from the corners and drip to the pillow below my head.

"See what?" I whisper, holding my breath.

Folio smiles as he slowly lowers his face towards me. His lips are inches from mine, tempting me to grab the trout and pull him closer so I can kiss them.

"That I'm in love with you."

My heart stops beating and for a moment I forget how to breath. I know I probably looked freaked out right now, but that's because I am, but in the best way possible.

"You... you're what?"

"I love you, Y/N. I've loved you for a while now. I just never wanted to ruin what you had with your boyfriend, but it looks like he's already done that himself."

"You're being serious? Like for real?"

Folio laughs, releasing my arms so I can finally sit up.

"Yeah, for real. That's why you need to let him go. You've got me. You've always had me."

Before I can stop myself, I throw myself into Folio's arms, climbing into his lap and tangling myself around him. He clings to me just as desperately as our lips collide for the first time ever. I devour him, taking everything thing from him that I've wanted for so long; his taste, the feeling of our lips moving together, the scent of his body wrapped around me. My hands travel to his hair, tangling themselves up in its roots and tugging gently, receiving the kind of sounds from him I've only dreamed about. Folio is addictive and absolutely everything I've wanted, but I was just too scared to admit it.

He pulls us apart, both of us out of breath, staring at me with a surprised look.

"I'm guessing I'm not alone in my feelings then," he jokes, releasing a light laugh.

"I guess not," I reply, sheepishly.

"You don't ever have to be scared of being alone, you hear me?" he reassures me, slipping his hands around my face, careful not to harm the faint hand mark that's starting to bruise and pulling me into him for another kiss. I breathe him in, opening my mouth when his tongue grazes my bottom lip. His tongue in my mouth is something I never knew I needed until now, and I groan at the feeling, leaning all the way into the kiss.

"You're not alone, baby," Folio whispers, laying us back down on the bed and wrapping himself around me. "You're mine now. Always and forever."

I smile against his chest and close my eyes, blissfully falling asleep to the sound of his racing heart beating softly in my ear.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

bad day. l Marcus Moreno

Summary:  It was a hard day

Warnings:  almost nothing, it's just Marcus helping you through a difficult day in his usual lovely way

A/N: a while ago i had my own tumblr blog and i would post my stories there. now, that i'm trying to get back into it, i wanted to post some of my old stories here that i quite like. i hope you don't mind if i occasionally post something like that. thanks for reading and feedback in any form.

He was just finishing washing the dishes when he saw your car pull into the driveway through the window. The car stopped and after a while the lights went out and... Nothing else happened.

You always came home at this hour, but this time it was different. Marcus wiped his hands and tossed the towel on the kitchen counter as he walked over to the window. The car was still standing as if it were deserted, but he could see you clearly.

He frowned and crossed his hands over his chest, something must have happened. Moreno saw you lean your head against the headrest and you closed your eyes, you sat there for a long time. Three or four minutes later you put your hands on the steering wheel and then leaned your forehead against it.

The cell phone was on the table so Marcus quickly went to get it, then went back to his observation spot and dialed your number. After a few rings you picked up.

"Hi, baby."

Your soft and tired voice almost broke his heart.

"Oh, hi." he replied "I wanted to ask what time you will be home, because I don't know whether to serve dinner yet."

A soft sigh from the other side.

"I... I'm on my way." you lied instantly, "I'll be home in 10 or 15 minutes... There's a little traffic jam...and...you know."

"Yeah, sure." he muttered, "Are you sure you're okay, sweetheart? You sound a little..."

"Yes! Everything's fine." You cut him off, "Everything’s...great. Yeah, I'll be home soon and we can start the weekend. We have that dinner with Meg and Steve tomorrow, right?"

"Yes, but if you don't feel up to it, we don't have to go. I can take it back, they will understand."

"No, you don't have to. I dream to see their new garden gazebo."

Marcus smiled gently. God! You've always been like that. Even if you were tired and overworked, you did your best to meet the expectations and not let anyone down. He remembered how, after work, you fell the night to help prepare Missy with a mock-up of the solar system, or you weed your neighbor's garden because you felt sorry that the old woman had to bend down.

He loved your huge heart for people and how you got involved, but then there would come days when your spark faded.

"Sweetheart?" Marcus said calmly, "Are you sure you’re all right?"

"Of course. Don't worry." you answered too enthusiastically.

"Is that why you have been sitting in the car in the driveway in front of the house for several minutes?"

Silence. The silence on the other side was an answer enough. Then he heard a soft sob.

"I'm sorry..." you groaned, and Marcus's heart tore even more.

"Stay there, I'm going to you, baby."

You didn't even have the strength to protest. Your throat tightened in pain, and tears were squeezing through your eyelids and running down your cheeks. Everything was out of your control.

The car door opened as soon as he held out his hand. However, he didn’t expect what he found inside.

The mascara has already smeared on your cheeks and your eyes were red with tears. The hair was in disarray, which meant how many times you had to run your fingers through it from the moment you got in the car. Damn! You even took your shoes off to be relieved.

You looked at him so that Marcus wanted to use his katanas on whoever brought you to that state.

"Baby..." he groaned.

You sat down, and it released even more tears from under your eyelids. Marcus was beside you within a second, his big and warm hands gripping your face.

"Baby, are you in pain? Someone hurt you?" he asked, concerned, "I will kill the bastard who..."

"No, no Marcus." You shook your head, sobbing "I'm fine... I just... I had such a damn hard day at work. Not even a day... A week or even two weeks, and..."

"Why didn't you say anything? I would help you, baby. And you organized a party for Missy's friends last weekend."

"You know she dreamed about it..."

"But maybe it wore you out so much..."

You shook your head again.

"You know how much I love Missy." you said softly, "Whatever I do for her is my pleasure. I'm sorry, Marcus. I'm sorry for lying and..."

"Hey, don't worry about that right now. Come on."

Without any problem, Marcus picked you up and slammed the car door. He brought you home and led you straight to the bathroom.

"Do we have time for this?" you asked when he sat you on the counter and reached for the cotton pads and lotion you used to remove your makeup with.

"Missy is at a friend's, the whole house is for us. I can give you as much time as you need." he replied smiling, "Close your eyes, baby."

With due care, Marcus washed off your makeup from time to time by kissing your nose or the corner of your mouth which made you smile. After that he filled the tub with hot water and threw one of the bath balls inside. He gave you time for yourself because he knew how much you needed it.

You didn't always need his arms and presence. A moment with yourself sometimes gave you more than he could. And Marcus understood and respected it.

You showed up in the living room when you were ready for it. A little calmer now, in one of his T-shirts, smelling of lavender and oils.

"Will you eat something?" he asked as he turned off the TV and looked at you with a smile, "I made the casserole you like so much."

"A lot of cheese?"

"Yeah, unlimited. Full of fat calories."

"Mmmm... Sounds tempting."

Maybe you shouldn't be doing this, but you had dinner in front of the TV while watching some funny program and sipping wine. And it was perfect. Only once did Marcus ask you if you would like to talk about it all, and when you refused, he didn't ask the question again.

And you loved him for that. Marcus always respected your limits, he understood it when you had to be alone and when you didn't want to talk about something. When your emotions subsided, you showed up at his door, ready to be all his again.

"Do you know that I love you?" you asked as you slide your fingers into his soft hair and scratched his scalp.

"You used to say something like that before." he grinned and you tapped him on the shoulder, "I know I love you. I love you like a madman. You’re everything to me, baby."

You pressed your face against his neck, smelling the last of his cologne.

Was well. It was perfect.

It's only been a hard week or two, not a hard life.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[dreamingofaizawa]

Coffee and Stitches - Part One

Shouta Aizawa x AFAB! Fem! Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of blood and wounds, a small hint at violence but nothing insane.

Word Count: 8.1k (damn)

Author's Note: AHHHHHHHHHHH I'm honestly so excited for this. Slow burn is definitely NOT what I normally write, but I've been possessed to do this. She's gona be a long one though, be warned.

Enjoy~

The first time pro hero Earserhead walked into your 24-hour cafe it was almost 2am, and you were shocked. Not by the fact he’s a pro hero, or by how late it is, but by the fact that he was battered and bruised on just about every exposed piece of his skin. It looked like he’s already seen some first aid, what with the bandage on his cheek and his left arm in a sling. But still, he looked much worse for wear.

You were in the middle of your greeting when you gasped at the state he was in. He seemed unfazed. Just after he ordered his coffee — light roast, two sugars, cream and a dash of cinnamon— you ushered him to sit down in one of the cafe chairs. With the cafe empty you can’t help but want to fill the empty silence. 

“Tough fight tonight, Eraserhead?” He only hums, a tired sound really. So you finish up his coffee and walk it out to him, setting it gently on the table. He gives a quiet thanks as you nod and return to your tasks behind the counter. He sat there sipping his coffee for about an hour, before getting up to get another. When you brought out the second one, you also brought out a slice of warmed coffee cake, on the house.

It was about 30 minutes before he came up to the counter once again.

“Is it alright if I ask for your help?” There’s nothing better for you to do with an empty cafe, and he’s a pro hero. You’d help him with anything.

“What can I do for you?” He holds up a tiny bottle labeled eye drops, and asks you to open it. His other hand is stuck in that sling, and until now you hadn’t noticed his entire hand is wrapped up tight like a mummy. He easily tips his head back, letting two drops fall into each eye, before placing the bottle back on the table for you to close.

“Thank you. I’m sorry for distracting you at work.” You chuckle as you return to your tasks, wringing out a wet sanitized rag and wiping down the already clean counters.

“I think good people are worth the distraction, Eraserhead.”

“Shouta.” You blink at him, as he tosses his empty cup in the trash.

“My name is Shouta.” You smile as he walks to the door.

“Have a good night, Shouta.”

“You too.”

The second time he walks in, he’s fully healed. It’s just past 10 and he’s in casual clothing, with a laptop bag slung over his shoulder. He looks different in civilian clothes, a v-neck long sleeved shirt and jeans, with his hair tied in a low ponytail. He still has that scarf though. Somewhere in your brain you note he looks quite nice in civilian clothes.

He orders the same coffee, this time with a bagel and cream cheese, and by the time you bring it to him he’s got his laptop out with a stack of papers off to the left and a red pen in hand. You already know he’s a teacher at UA, most people do. You’re more than a little proud that your little cafe is his chosen grading spot for the night. By the time he leaves it’s nearing midnight, and he’s worked through three refills.

That’s how it goes for a few months.

Occasionally he’ll step in with his hero getup before and after a patrol, and more often than not he’s in casual clothing after a day of teaching, always grading another hefty stack of teenaged heroes’ homework. Every time it’s the same, a ‘good evening Shouta’ and a tired ‘evening’ in reply.

Every night is the same. Until tonight.

Tonight when he bursts through the door you jump out of your skin from the bang that rings through the cafe. You’re just a little relieved there’s nobody else here to witness the sight before you, and part of you is surprised the glass door hasn’t shattered from the impact. He’s limping and bloody, dripping wet from the rain, and he’s dragging an unconscious mass that must be human behind him all wrapped up in his scarf like a mummy. His voice is riddled with exhaustion, weak and rough, when he addresses you.

“I’m so sorry.”

That’s all he says before falling to his knees and collapsing on the floor. You freeze for a minute, before rushing over to his side. He’s still partially awake, and with whatever sense you have left you quickly get to work. The store is closed down and locked up, shades drawn over the windows haphazardly and you hit the panic button under the counter, which would dispatch an ambulance and a police unit.

Then you make coffee. You infuse your healing quirk into every ounce, then force a semi-conscious Shouta to chug a cup after you’ve cooled it down with ice. You'll regret it later, using it so liberally, but that's a problem you can deal with tomorrow. With that working, you run up to the apartment you live in upstairs and grab a few things. A couple towels, your oversized sweater and sweatpants, your best pair of scissors, and your first aid kit.

The adrenaline is what keeps you from feeling awkward as you unzip Shouta’s hero costume and begin to check him for the worst of his injuries. His half-conscious mind makes him almost delirious as he chuckles at you.

“Isn’t it a little soon for you to be feeling me up?” You glare at him, but there’s no heat behind it. It’s hard to be mad at someone who’s actively bleeding, and somehow still looks attractive.

“I’m checking you for injuries while my quirk kicks in.”

“And when is that?” You try your best to keep your hands from shaking as you peel back the jumpsuit and tug the tank top he’s got beneath it. There’s a large gash on his right side, not fatally deep, but he’ll definitely need stitches and he’s already lost a lot of blood. It seems like that’s the only bad injury he’s got, which you’re grateful for.

“Believe me, you’ll know.” With that you start to cut the tank off his body, packing the wound with whatever clean towels you have at hand. He hisses at the pressure, but you know that he knows he’s felt much worse. So he doesn’t complain. The rest of his tank top is stripped off him, and you help him tug the top of his jumpsuit completely off so it sits around his hips. You try not to think about his muscles, nor the little happy trail on his abdomen. It’s then that he nearly jolts upright, and you have to catch him from lurching forward. You can feel his heart hammering in his chest and his breaths come out hard and fast.

“Holy shit. I guess that’s your quirk then?” You laugh a little.

“Yeah. Your body’s processing everything faster, so the gash on your side should be trying to heal itself by now.” Lo and behold, when you pull the bloody towels away he’s already stopped bleeding. When you think he’s ready, you urge him to stand and walk him over to the bathroom. He’s a little confused as you do so.

“I said your body is processing things faster. That includes your bladder and bowel movements. You’re going to need to go sooner than later, believe me. Think you can stand alone?”

“Yeah. That quirk of yours did wonders for my ankle, so I think I’m good right now. Thank you.” You nod and hand him the extra clothes you’d grabbed as he shuts the door behind him.

“Call me if you need help.” You don’t get an answer back, but you can hear him shuffling around so you let him be. Now with space to breathe, you allow yourself to relax. That was…insane. Pro hero Eraserhead, a regular at your cafe, just burst in all bloody, dragging a villain behind him. Wait.

You nearly trip over your own feet with how fast you move back around the bar. The dude is still wrapped up in that scarf, except he’s awake and squirming, muffled complaints barely making it through the fabric covering his mouth. His hands are poking out behind his back, and you can see the quirk canceling cuffs slapped on his wrists. At least you know he’s secure.

“Don’t worry, he can’t hurt you.” You nearly jump three feet in the air at the sheer closeness of Shouta’s voice.

“Holy- Make noise when you move, geez! Scared the life out of me.”

“Sorry.” He’s not sorry. He’s laughing at you.

“Anyway. The police and an ambulance should be on their way by now. I’m going to make myself a coffee and a snack. Did you want anything to eat or drink while we wait?” He contemplated for a moment, glancing up at the food menu. He doesn’t seem particularly keen on anything.

“I’ve got a couple pieces of a chicken pot pie left upstairs if you’d like. That’s what I’m eating anyway.” He nods, then asks for his usual coffee with the addition of an espresso shot. It doesn’t take long for you to get everything done. You made the coffee while the pie was reheating in the cafe’s mini oven. Soon you and Shouta were sitting at a table and enjoying your small meal.

It wasn’t long before emergency services showed up. You’d barely finished your food and coffee when you heard the sirens down the street, and the lights came into view a few seconds later. It isn’t until the paramedics are giving you a once-over that you realize you’re absolutely covered in blood, no doubt Shouta’s.

It takes longer than you like for the police to finish questioning you and bagging the villain, but at the end of it all you’re left alone in the cafe with Shouta. The silence is eerie as you stand there together, staring out the door the authorities have just vacated from. Shouta is the first to break the silence.

“Are you okay?” It takes you what feels like way too long to turn and meet his eyes.

“Are you? You lost so much blood. I don’t know how you’re awake right now.” He hums, raising his hand to cover the dressed wound on his side. It’s probably subconscious, at least slightly.

“Being a hero this long you kinda get used to it. Like how someone who regularly donates blood gets used to the dizziness afterward. It doesn’t necessarily get better, just easier to stomach.”

“Wow. That was kinda depressing.” You both stare at each other, then burst into fits of giggles at the insanity of it all.

"I guess that means I should be going now. Sorry again, for dragging you into this." You shake your head, there's no reason for him to be apologizing.

"You needed help, I know this place is the only one open this late. Besides, it's not like I've got much else to do with an empty store." His expression is a mix between apologetic and 'yeah, good point'. When he makes a move to leave, you take a moment to consider a few things. The rain is still coming down hard outside, hard enough you can't quite make out the other side of the street. Shouta came in on foot, which means he'd be leaving on foot as well.

"Are you sure you wanna go out into that?" He follows your gaze to the rain outside, a weak shrug following.

"It's nothing I haven't done before." He moves toward the door, and you make a split second decision. You can't, in good conscience, let a hero walk out into the rain to who knows how far his house is, at this hour, injured. You step directly in his path, stopping him in his tracks.

"Listen, I really don't think it's a good idea for you to be going out there. I've got a pull-out futon and hot water." His eyes narrow ever so slightly, head tilting a fraction.

"Are you offering me a place to stay?" The way he says it is playful and light, makes you chuckle just a little.

"It's late, it's dark, it's cold, you're injured, and you're probably exhausted. So, yes, I am offering you a place to stay for the night." He's silent and still as he considers your offer. You don't want him to go, if for no other reason than the fact that there's every possibility he'd pass out once your quirk wears off completely.

"Okay, I'll stay. Thank you." Relief floods your body. With that settled you shut down everything in the cafe and shoot a text to the three coming in to cover the morning shift that they'd need to bring their keys to get in the store. You grab the bodily fluids cleanup kit, take the time to clean all the blood off the tiles, then head up to your connected apartment. Shouta follows you up the stairs in the far corner behind the counter, through the door at the top and into your living space. You haven't had the time to really clean up lately, sketchbooks and pens littering the small coffee table in front of the couch, a towel and a stray pair of jeans strewn over the back of that same couch, a few other bits and bobs dotted around. It's nothing you're embarrassed about.

You grab the few clothing items as you walk by, move the coffee table, pull out the couch and get it completely set up with a sheet, pillows and a blanket. You grab a clean towel, setting it on the coffee table with a spare disposable toothbrush and a pair of boxers you kept in case of emergencies. One of his eyebrows shot up at that.

"They haven't been used, I promise." It's the truth, you have some spares of all kinds of underwear in case friends end up staying unplanned. Or heroes, apparently.

"I’m gonna take a shower, if you want to shower, feel free. Bathroom is the first door on the right, and the fridge is mostly stocked. My room is at the end of the hall, I'll be up for a little longer, so if you need anything just poke your head in the door. I'll leave it open." He rests a hand on your shoulder to look you in the eyes.

"Again, thank you. This is very kind of you." All you can do is smile.

"I couldn't let you go out there in that state. It's no big deal, and you're a hero. I'm happy to help." You wave over your shoulder as you disappear down the hall to collect your sleep set.

"If you need anything, you know where to find me." You take a quick shower before hopping into bed, the events of tonight catching up to you and exhaustion settles in your bones. You don't hear from him at all until you wake up around noon, sounds and smells slowly tugging you from slumber. You make your way out to your small kitchen to find the hero quietly plating some food, setting the plates out on the counter when he spots you.

"Good timing, I just finished up. Take a seat, breakfast is ready." It's strangely domestic, the way he sits beside you in the thrifted bar stools you'd adorned the small kitchen with.

"Thank you for breakfast. You didn't have to do all this." He shakes his head, swallowing the bite he'd taken.

"Of course I did. I burst into your store at ass-o'clock in the morning, soaked to the bone, bleeding, with a criminal wiggling around in handcuffs and you not only healed my wounds but offered me a place to sleep for the night." You sigh, shrug your shoulders lazily.

"Yeah, fair enough. Though I'd argue the only generous part of any of that is offering you to stay the night. I'm sure any sane person would have tried their best to help regardless." He matches your shrug.

"Huh. Fair enough." The mimicked phrase makes you crack a smile. The rest of your breakfast is shared in comfortable silence, the both of you happy to eat and exist as you are. It’s a decent meal, put together with what was in your fridge, but still tasted good. Soon your plates are clean and the both of you work in tandem to clean up the kitchen. He washes the dishes, you dry them and return them to their proper homes. You wipe down the counters and stove top while he cleans himself up, then it's your turn to get ready for the day. It's nice, sharing the space with him. He doesn't make anything awkward even though this is the first time he's been here, and his presence is not just comforting but enjoyable.

"You have everything you need? Not forgetting anything?" He doesn't bother looking around, he's sure he's grabbed all of his things. You'd given him a small spare duffel to carry everything, he probably packed everything before you woke up.

"I should have everything. If I don't, I know where to look." True. With that you both head out your door and down the steps to the cafe. Your coworkers are surprised to see the two of you emerge from the stairway, rather than you alone, and you shoot them some glares. Their scandalous glances fall and they refocus on what they’re doing.

"Thank you again for letting me stay. I'll get out of your hair for now, but I'll probably be back in the next few days like usual." You nod, then turn to quickly make a cup of coffee, just the way he likes it, plus the teeniest bit of your healing infused into it.

"Shouta, take this with you. It's got some of my healing quirk in there, so sip at it slowly. It should start kicking in when you reach wherever you're going." He takes the cup graciously, thanking you again before he's out the door. The voice behind you makes you jump, being so close to you.

"Girl...ERASERHEAD? What the hell happened last night?" You slump over and roll your eyes at Rika, her insinuation not lost on you.

"I'll explain it later. You're gonna have to give me some time to deal with my quirk's backlash for right now, I'll be back down in a few hours." She nods, then allows you to go back upstairs. The climb is a little more difficult now, the effects of your quirk kicking in at the last few steps making you curl into yourself at the sudden pain in your abdomen.

"Shit." It takes a lot of strength and willpower to actually drag yourself to the bathroom, blood already seeping through your shirt. Just like last night, you pack the wound best you can and prep the first aid kit. Sterile needle, suture thread, sterile gauze and medical tape are all splayed out on the bathroom counter after crudely dousing the surface in rubbing alcohol. It's not a hospital, but it's clean enough. Between the blood loss and the pain, you're shaking as you stitch up the gash in your side. It's not as deep as Shouta's. If it were, you were prepared to call an ambulance for yourself. The sound of your door opening and closing filters through your brain, Rika's voice echoing as she approaches down the hall.

"Hey, do you need any help up here? They're okay downst- What the fuck?! Dude we gotta get you to the hospital!" You shake your head no.

"It's fine, I'm almost done. It looks a lot worse than it is." Still bewildered, she reluctantly nods.

"Right...Do you need anything? Water, maybe?"

"Yeah, water would be nice. Maybe some apple juice from downstairs to help my blood sugar? If you can?" She's gone in a flash, a short 'on it!' shouted behind her. Well, at least you wouldn't have to get it on your own. You tie off the sutures and clean yourself up, taping the gauze over the wound. The worst part is over. Rika returns with a full glass of iced water and a small cup of juice, both of which you chug down before cleaning up the bathroom. Your ankle gives just a little as you walk around, and Rika catches you by the arm before you fall face-first into the sink.

"Holy shit are you sure you're okay? Eraserhead must have been seriously hurt last night if this is what you look like right now. You sure you don't want me to call an ambulance or drive you to the ER or something?"

"I'm sure, thank you. I'll be fine, I just need some time to recuperate. You can go back downstairs Rika, if I really need help I'll call emergency services myself." She shoots you a disapproving look but doesn't say anything else before disappearing downstairs to rejoin the rest in the cafe. Limping out to the parlor you notice everything is back in its proper place, and then some. You hadn't noticed when you woke up, but Shouta had returned all of the furniture, washed the sheets and blanket he'd used, and even organized the mess of pens on the coffee table into their pouch. Tenderly, you lie down on the couch, content to rest your body for a while, and your mind decides it’s time to take a short nap. When you wake up again it's nearing 3pm, and Rika is sitting on one of the barstools. Her shift probably ended not too long ago.

"How are you feeling?" You groan as you sit up, careful not to rip the stitches.

"Like shit. But it's not the worst thing I've felt." She scoffs and shakes her head at you, both in slight disappointment and shock.

"I don't know how you're still alive. And I'm not talking about your current injuries. The shit you've already dealt with is insanity." A small laugh is pulled from your throat. You know what she means, and you know why you're not actually dead. Your quirk can heal any and all physical injuries in another person, but the one awful drawback is that those injuries will transfer to your body. You can choose when they transfer, in the span of about twelve hours, depending on how severe the injuries are. But they will transfer, no matter what. Your one saving grace is that no matter the injury, it will not be as bad as the original. Even a fatal wound would be just survivable for you. Shot in the heart? The hole will appear in your chest, but it won't pierce the vital organ. Arm chopped off? The cut would be distributed around your arm, avoiding large arteries and any crucial ligaments or bones. It’s almost like it splits the effects of the injury between you and the original victim.

"I'm alive cause my quirk keeps me alive. You know how it works."

"Yeah, I know how it works but I still have trouble believing it sometimes." That's fair. She nods her chin over to your ankle, which is now wrapped nicely in a bandage.

"I wrapped it, since I couldn’t find a brace anywhere. By the way, isn't that Eraserhead's scarf?" A glance where she’s looking shows you that yes, that is Eraserhead's scarf and yes, he had forgotten it when he left. Clearly he left it in the corner out of the way so it didn't get tangled in anything, but in the process of being in an unfamiliar house he forgot it in its corner.

"I guess I'll just have to take it to him, then. He can't go out doing hero work without his primary weapon." Rika taps through her phone and a number is dialed, and you hear her side of the conversation.

"Hi, yes I'm calling to ask about getting in contact with Pro Hero Eraserhead? I've got his scarf here, I'd appreciate it if you could give him a message. Yes. Okay, I'll hold." She must have found a public call number for UA or something.

"Yes I'm still here. Hello, Eraserhead! Oh, perfect! Yes the number is..." She actually rattles off your personal phone number, giving it to presumably the underground hero himself. Of course, she does it with a sly wink in your direction which you return with an eye roll.

"Oh yes she'll be in the cafe tonight. For sure! I'll let her know. Alrighty, bye bye now." The call ended there and you can't help but sigh at her.

"Let me guess, he's coming to pick it up tonight and I'm bringing it down to the cafe for him?" She nods enthusiastically, a mischievous smile gracing her lips.

"You're welcome, you now have Eraserhead's number." Well, technically not yet. Just then your phone buzzes with a text message from an unknown number. 'Looks like I forgot something. Sorry about that.' Well, you stand corrected.

"Yeah yeah, quit tryna play matchmaker. Come help me up, will you? I gotta piss."

Rika stays a few more hours before leaving, not without triple-checking that you feel okay. You swear her voice was playing on a broken record with the amount of times she'd asked if you were sure you were alright. You change your bandages before getting ready for your shift, eating some dinner, popping some ibuprofen, and making your way down the stairs with the scarf in hand and a small brace on your ankle. It isn't long before the man is walking through the door in that jumpsuit of his, waving lazily at you with measured footsteps. He looks much better, now that his wounds are probably almost completely healed.

"Welcome back. You forgot this." You hold out the fabric, looped over your hand neatly. He takes it and slips it over his head in one smooth motion, letting it settle around his neck where it belongs.

"Thank you. Didn't realize I'd left it." You laugh at that, but it puts pressure on your wound and you wince. His expression turns sour, having caught the action.

"Are you alright?" You nod, breathing slowly to ease the ache.

"Oh I'm fine. You want a coffee for the road?" He doesn't comment on the change of subject, but accepts the offer for coffee. You can feel his eyes on you as you work on the beverage, and you can only hope he doesn't notice your tiny limp and the way you favor one side of your body. Handing it to him is easy, and he bids you a farewell without any further questions, though he does mention he'll be back in about six hours to visit again. That's not unusual, it would be the end of his hero shift and he'd be back for another coffee.

So, you spend the next six hours as per the usual. You change out the bandages once more, and being on your feet and moving around is helping to distract from the pain. There aren't many patrons so late, but the few you do get are more underground heroes or construction workers on the night shift, and sometimes the odd college student coming in for a quick pick-me-up to study. None of them stay, and so you're left biding your time by cleaning or restocking however you can in your state. Unfortunately, you'd bent down to wipe out a fridge a bit too sharply, a bit too swiftly. The sharp pain made you groan, the small pop you’d felt meant you'd torn a stitch. You stayed bent over until the throb ebbed away, then slowly righted yourself, only to see Shouta striding through the door, concern written all over his face. He doesn't give you a chance to greet him.

"Don't tell me you're okay, cause I just watched you doubled over behind the counter clutching your side. What happened?" Damn, caught red handed. You sigh, there's no use lying at this point.

"So...don't be mad and don't feel guilty." A single eyebrow lifts on his face, but he waits for your explanation.

"My quirk has some...drawbacks. I healed your wounds, but they transferred to my body in exchange." He seems frozen, blinking slowly at you as you stand there waiting for something.

"Okay, you're never allowed to use it on me again. Now, are you alright? Do you need medical attention?" You explain everything, and he's only satisfied when you agree to let him assist you to re-stitch the wound you'd just opened. He didn't take no for an answer. The store is locked up once again, and you both make your way up to the apartment. You've got everything set up and you peel away the gauze and bandages to reveal the wound. Surprisingly, it isn't that bad. You heal faster than the average person, so the bleeding is minimal now and the torn stitch can be replaced with a few steri-strips.

"These stitches are very clean. You did these yourself?"

"Yeah. I ended up teaching myself to suture wounds because I used to use my quirk recklessly. I needed to stitch myself up a lot, or I'd be spending a whole lot of time in the hospital. I took a few low-level medical classes, watched videos, took free online courses. I'm no surgeon, but I get by fine." He nods, then gingerly cleans and applies the bandages. The heat from his fingers makes you shiver just a little, every time he brushes against the skin on your stomach you can’t help but hold your breath. He’s so close, you can see the pinch in his brow while he concentrates on the wound, so careful not to hurt you. 

"I really wish you'd told me about this, I would have stayed today and helped." You can't help but smile at his sweet words.

"That's very kind of you. But it's alright. Like I said, I used to have to do this all the time." He scoffs, not pulling his attention away from the dressings.

"I still would have stayed. You may not have saved my life last night but it sure as hell helped me a lot more than a normal hospital visit. Your healing was the next best thing to Recovery Girl's. And what about the little healing bit you gave me earlier? Will that affect you too?"

"Nah, I put so little in your coffee it would only speed up your healing by a fraction. It probably acted as a painkiller more than anything, so I won't feel any side effects from it." Satisfied with that answer, he nods and finishes with your wound. Both of you clean up and make your way to the couch, and Shouta decides you're not allowed to get up at all for the rest of the night. He's got water, a snack, your phone, and the tv remote all sat on the coffee table within your reach. What a doting man.

"So I'm guessing you got that mild ankle sprain as well." Damn.

"Yeah. But it's not as bad as yours probably was." He nods, remembering how you explained your transferred wounds were less severe. He sits in silence, staring at you, clearly contemplating something. You don't pressure him to spit it out, if he really wants to say something he'll say it. So, you switch on the tv and put on an old slice-of-life/comedy anime you'd already watched ten times. It's soothing background noise. Shouta's voice cuts through the characters flitting around on screen.

"You knew you'd take all of my wounds, you knew you'd be dealing with bad injuries. Why would you do that to yourself, just to keep me conscious? I mean, I wasn't going to die, at most I'd pass out but between the medics and you keeping pressure on the gash I'd definitely live. So why put yourself through his kind of pain?" It takes you a moment to form your response. Truly, you hadn't thought about it like that before. Whenever you use your healing it's a spur-of-the-moment, split-second decision. You'd always just dealt with the consequences afterward.

"I guess I can't help it. I've always just done it, and said 'fuck it, I'll suck it up later'. Maybe it's because I know for sure that I won't die no matter how bad the injuries, and there's no way to know if the victim were to survive. Maybe I can't help wanting to help them, help you. I've always been a sucker for that kind of thing." He regards you for a long moment.

"If your quirk didn't cause you personal harm you'd make an amazing healing hero." It’s a thought that’s crossed your mind more than a few times. If only.

“Yeah. The only other problem is that I’ve never tried to heal more than one person at a time. I’ve never really needed to. So I have no idea how that would turn out.” He nods in agreement. 

“How long will it take for that gash to heal?” That’s a good question. 

“Maybe two more days? It shouldn’t scar either, most of them don’t.” Another nod. He sits in silence then, turning his attention to the anime you’d put on, the characters delving into ridiculous and hilarious situations. Your eyes begin to droop, and you don’t know when you fall asleep, but when you wake up the sun is filtering through the window. The window that’s in your bedroom. You’re in your bed, not the couch, and your ankle has been rewrapped and the dressings for your stitches have been changed. Somehow you hadn’t woken up, but the thought that he’d cared enough to change your gauze and ankle wrap had warmth settling in your chest. Slowly, you make your way out to your kitchen and find a note stuck on the fridge.

‘I made tuna onigiri. See you tonight for my coffee.’ A grin tugs at your mouth and you heat the onigiri in the microwave. It tastes good, the tuna seasoned well and the rice cooked perfectly. Somewhere in the back of your mind you find yourself excited to see the hero, his company welcome and wanted during your long-winded midnight shifts. He’s coming back tonight, and you make a mental note to not let him pay for that coffee, and also to thank him for last night. After your small breakfast you get ready for the day and head down to the cafe for a drink. Rika’s face fills your vision and her shit-eating grin makes you weary of what she’s about to say.

“Someone’s happy this morning. What’s got you all giddy today? A certain pro-hero, perhaps?” You roll your eyes and turn away from her, ignoring the warmth pooling in your cheeks.

“I’m not giddy.”

“Uh huh.” You shoot a half-hearted glare at her.

“I’m not. But he did come up last night and helped with my bandages. And a few other things.” Her hands clamp down on your shoulders and turn you around to face her, making you jump with the strength she’d gathered.

“Ok, my shift ends in half an hour and you’re telling me everything.” Of course she’d wanna hear it.

“Yeah yeah, you can come grocery shopping with me.” She nods, and you disappear back into your apartment to wait for her. It’s not long, you head down just as she’s clocking out and you both begin the walk to the supermarket down the street. You relay the entirety of last night’s events, all the way up to you waking up and she can’t stop giggling and squealing in her excitement. 

“UGH he’s just so dreamy isn't he? The whole thing is so romantic, carrying you to bed, dressing your wounds…girl you’re out here living the dream.” 

“Whatever. He’s a hero, he was probably just doing what he thought was best. Nothing more.” She actually laughs, hard enough to bring tears to her eyes.

“Oh hell no, you're not rationalizing this away. I can understand the wound dressing, but everything else was extra effort he definitely did not need to put in. He could have easily put a blanket over you on the couch, he didn’t need to carry you to bed, and he definitely didn’t need to make you breakfast especially when he didn’t stay the night.” For a moment, you let yourself dream that he hadn’t done all that he had because of his moral compass as a hero.

“Yeah, but I’m not banking on it. You may think he’s interested in me romantically, but he might not be. For now, I’m just going to let things play out.” She sighs, her shoulders slumping a little.

“Yeah, that’s the smartest thing to do. No use jumping the gun, huh?”

“Exactly. Now, where’s my grocery list?” Digging into your pocket you pull out the little note with all your necessities, and successfully find all of them in stock. The rest of the day is spent in your apartment talking about random things, Shouta being one of them. You allow yourself to indulge in the thoughts Rika put in your head. Dates and kisses and holding hands, you let your mind conjure what the hero could be like in a romantic setting. He seems to be a gentleman, clearly he’s not one to just take whatever he’s given and run with it. Not to mention even though he’s just an acquaintance right now he’d gone above and beyond to care for you last night. 

Rika departs and you get ready for your shift, only a little bit excited to see Shouta tonight. He may not be romantically interested in you, but that’s okay, you’re just happy you get to spend a few minutes together as always. The cafe empties out around 7, the sun having just set and the street lights making the street glow orange. The lights in the cafe are warm and cozy, and a light drizzle has made a chill settle in the air. It’s a warm drink night, you decide, and steam some apple juice with caramel syrup for your own personal enjoyment. A dash of cinnamon completes the flavor profile, making the drink reminiscent of apple pie. It warms you from the inside out, and you decide you’d make a sample for him to taste. This kind of deliciousness may be exceedingly sweet, but it’s always worth sharing and tasting, if only for the nostalgia of the sweet treat. Shouta shows up soon after, and you hand him both his coffee and the sample.

“It’s pretty sweet, but I think every once in a while sweet doesn’t hurt.” He takes it, and sips it carefully. He’s hit by the sugar rush first, you can tell, but when it wears off he hums and takes another sip.

“This tastes like a dessert I’ve had before…apple pie?” With a grin, you nod.

“Yes! I’m glad you recognized it!” Another hum, another sip, and you take a sip of your own as it cools slowly. You have to make yourself a glass of water to chase it, the sweetness settling on your tongue a little too heavily. You offer him one as well, and he takes it.

“You ready for your patrol tonight?”

“As ready as always. Shouldn’t be anything too crazy, the crime rate has been steadily declining so hopefully nothing wild like the other night.” You reach over and lay your knuckles on the wooden cabinets, knocking three times. Knocking on wood is a habit you’d picked up from your mother. One of his eyebrows raise at the action, but you just shrug.

“Never hurts. Better to cover your bases, I would hate to think you jinxed yourself just by saying it out loud.” He chuckles, then heads for the door.

“Well thanks, it’s nice to know someone’s looking out for the heroes.” He’s out the door and gone before you can get a reply or a goodbye out. In his absence you spend your time cleaning and restocking, experimenting with drink flavor combinations, drink and food combinations, and reorganizing pieces of the cafe that you feel need to be changed or improved. A few customers come and go, one college student sticks around with a laptop and headphones but leaves after a couple of hours. The chalkboard on the wall is outdated, so you take the time to wipe it down and begin to think up a new design and another promotional item to put up. That apple pie drink could work, with the fall season coming up, and pairing it with a more savory pastry item could work. Maybe a cream cheese danish, or a cinnamon bagel. Shouta walks in just as you finish up the board.

“I’m partial to the cinnamon bagel, but that’s just because I like cinnamon.” You grin, collecting your chalk pens and taking a step back to admire your board. You’d outdone yourself. 

“Cinnamon is pretty great. I’m assuming your patrol went smoothly?” You return behind the counter, already prepping to make his usual coffee.

“Yeah, nothing special.” He tugs his goggles off his face and lets them sit around his neck, the fabric of his scarf swallowing up the oddly shaped yellow piece. 

“Well that’s good then, less healing for me to do.” You smile, and he returns one, and when you hand him his coffee he sticks around in the cafe for a little while. He points out the little things you’d changed, the new placement of the tables and the rearranged beanbags in the corner. 

“How often do you change things around here? I’ve never noticed the beanbags.”

“Eh, whenever I feel like it, I guess. I don’t tend to leave things for more than a few months at a time. But the beanbags have always been there, just tucked away in the corner hidden behind the booth. I kept a little alcove there for larger groups, there’s an old couch as well as a large coffee table for the occasional board game night. Every Friday a group comes in to play DnD and they like the area, so it doesn’t go unused.” He nods, taking in all of the details of the cafe that he hadn’t before. He decides to take a seat in one of the beanbags, his eyes fluttering shut as he sinks. You can’t help but giggle at him, he must be tired.

“When do you even sleep? Between midnight patrols and school, when do you find the time?” He hums from his spot, not bothering to open his eyes.

“I have a sleeping bag I take with me to school. I take naps between classes and weekends are a godsend.” 

“Geez, that sounds awful. Naps during the week and only getting a full night’s rest during the weekends? How are you still functioning?” One of those bloodshot eyes peek open.

“Mostly you.” You’re sure he doesn’t mean it the way it came out, but the initial shock of the statement makes you blink at him dumbly.

“I meant the coffee. You’re my caffeine dealer.” His chuckle is tired and slow, chest jumping with the sound. Yeah, that’s what you figured he meant.

“Well I’m happy to help.” Silence falls, and you allow him the peace while you busy yourself with whatever menial tasks you can find to do. You’re almost startled when you hear a soft snore come from the corner, and a peek shows you that he’s sound asleep, his mouth having fallen open just the tiniest bit with his head leaning to one side. He must be constantly exhausted to have fallen asleep so quickly. It’s not hard to keep quiet, and you make sure to turn the volume of the music playing through the speakers way down to a light drone. You shift the playlist to something more relaxed, rather than the current high-energy pop, and dim the lights in the lobby to make him at least a little bit more comfortable. It’s hard not to stare at him, he’s so peaceful and looks so much more relaxed when he’s asleep. Your mind dares to conjure an image of his sleeping form stretched across your couch, his head settled in your lap while you thread your fingers into his hair. Or in your bed, with his body on top of yours as he snoozes away, his head tucked into your chest with your fingers massaging his back and neck.

You have to shake the images of domesticity from your brain.

You let him sleep as long as he needs to. It’s a Friday morning, so he definitely has school. It’s 6 am when you make your way over to his still snoring figure. It takes you a moment to figure out just how to wake him up, but when you call his name softly and he doesn’t seem to respond you decide it’s best to see if he’ll respond to touch. Gently, you kneel and lay a hand on his shoulder and call his name again. Still nothing. He must have needed a nap desperately. You squeeze his shoulder this time, letting your thumb rub back and forth over his suit to try to stimulate a response, and his snoring stops while his head lifts from the soft fabric of the beanbag. When his sleepy eyes meet yours you give him a soft smile.

“Good morning sleepy head. It’s 6 o’clock, I figured you’d need to get home and get ready for school.” He blinks and rubs the sleep out of his eyes with the heel of his palm.

“How long was I out?” 

“A couple hours. It was a small nap, but I think you needed it.” You follow him when he stands, and he makes his way toward the door when you stop him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Shouta, if you ever need to sleep that badly again my place is always open.” He opens his mouth to say something but you hold up a hand.

“I know, ‘you could never impose like that, blah blah blah’. No, I’m genuinely worried for you at this rate. Nobody can get away with that little sleep so frequently. So my offer stands, and I implore you to take it. You already spend so much time here, and the commute back and forth from here to wherever you live eats away at your sleep time.” His mouth snaps shut, and he stays silent for a long while. 

“I’ll think about it.” That’s better than nothing, you suppose.

“Good.” He throws a wave over his shoulder, holds the door open for the three covering the morning shift, then he’s gone in a flash. Your three coworkers eye you suspiciously, one actually nudging you with his shoulder and leaning close.

“So, Eraserhead, huh? Didn’t know you were into pros.” You hit him lightly on the shoulder, scoffing and rolling your eyes.

“Oh shut it, Shun. He’s a regular, he’s just never stayed this late.” One blonde eyebrow rises, his arms crossing over his chest with a pop of his hip.

“Right. And I’m supposed to believe there’s nothing more going on when you’re smiling like that when he leaves?” 

“Smiling like what? I’m not smiling any different!” You swear you aren’t.

“That’s bs and you know it. You like him.” With an eye roll, you flip him off and make your way up the stairs.

“Clock in and get to work. Morning rush is coming soon.” His laugh can be heard from the top step, and he shouts after you.

“You know I’m right!” The door is shut swiftly after that, and you have to take a seat on the couch to steady your racing heart. Sure, you dare to imagine him in a romantic setting, and sometimes you find your mind wandering about what it’d be like to live with the man. And maybe sometimes you think about him while he’s out and about, wondering what he’s doing with his day or night. Even just a few hours ago you were conjuring images of him asleep in your bed. 

Shun is right. You like him. A lot.

You have to take a deep breath and clear your mind, then get ready for bed. This was not something you had to hash out right now, this little crush needed to stay way in the back of your brain for the time being. Regardless of how you feel, Shouta is still a dear acquaintance, dare you say almost a friend, and you can’t risk whatever your current relationship is with the man just because of a crush. You don’t sleep once you’re in bed, it takes you some time to actually sift through all the thoughts in your head, but you do eventually succumb.

[augustghosts]

The Best Thank you

Tommy Miller x fem!reader

On that night in 2003, Tommy calls his girlfriend instead of Joel. 

(let's pretend the literal apocalypse doesn’t happen for this one, ok?) 

 I started writing this like a week ago before ep 6 and after seeing ep 6 I haven't been able to stop thinking about tommy fucking miller. Anyways, this ends kind of abruptly because i’m bad at endings lol. And this is the worst title ever, I couldn't think of one. Hope you enjoy <3

Warnings: 18+ so minors dni pls, not proofread so lmk if u spot any mistakes lmao. Lots of pet names. Established relationship, ppl in love n all that. Oral (f receiving), unprotected sex. Tommy defo whimpers btw.

Word count: 3.1k

“Shit!” She almost rolled her eyes at herself as she did the classic scramble around the bed in the dark for her phone. After a few seconds she grasps it, her eyes squinting as she looks over a number she doesn’t recognise. She considers not answering, it is midnight. But calls this late are usually important, right? Fuck it. 

“Hello?” She’s hesitant, but the sigh she lets out makes it sound like she’s annoyed. Tommy is nervous, he’s actually fucking nervous. After no answer from Joel, he didn’t know what else to do. He was well and truly fucked. He's leaning against a cold wall, the payphone is heavy in his hand - not as heavy as the stare the officer who’s watching him is giving him. He looks down at his boots instead and squeezes his eyes shut before replying. The sound of her voice immediately helped his situation. 

“Hey, honey!” He sounds a little too cheery, he honestly cringes at himself. He can’t tell if its the pure fucking anxiety he’s feeling because of this phone call or the alcohol. 

“Tommy? What’s wrong?” She sussed him out immediately, the sounds of his voice initially putting her at ease before she sensed the edge in it. God, he thinks, she’s so damn smart. And she knows him so well. He catches himself smiling at the just the thought of her, until he remembers where the fuck he is. 

“Yeah. I’m, uh - I'm okay.” Did he just stutter? This is one of those times he wished she didn’t have this kind of effect on him. 

“Okay?” She beckons him to continue, leaning over to her nightstand to flick the light on. Her room is illuminated revealing a pair of Tommy’s shoes by her door and some clothes he’d left there still thrown over the back of her chair. 

“Look, I'm - um.” Fuck, Tommy. Just say it. “I’m in jail.”

There’s a pause on the other end, a pause that’s a little too long and makes him think she’d hung up. He takes the phone away from his ear to glance at it, as if that would help.  Her voice is small when it finally comes through. “What?” 

“Did you actually not hear me or do you just want me to say it again?” He tries to joke. 

“Say it again.” Her voice is stern, it immediately shuts him down. 

“I’m in jail.” He sighs. 

There’s another pause before she asks: “Are you okay?”

His heart squeezes in his chest. He had expected a million sighs, a telling off or maybe even a dial tone ringing in his ear telling him she’d hung up on him. But no, of course she’s not like that. He knows that - she’s better than anyone he’d ever met. Of course his beautiful girl with her beautiful heart, who had just been woken up at midnight, was going to ask him if he was okay. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.” His voice is uncharacteristically small. 

“What happened?” 

“I don’t know. It's- you know I was at the bar and one of my buddies got into a fight and I was just helping him out. I think maybe I knocked the guy out, I don't know.” He does know. He did knock the guy out and honestly, he was pretty proud of it. But he doesn’t want to tell her that. 

“Oh, okay.” Honestly, she’s confused. Not sure why he was calling her, didn’t he have a brother? 

“Anyway, look baby, I'm sorry but I need you to help me out.” 

“How?” She asks. She’s sitting up now, and suddenly she doesn’t feel tired anymore. 

He sighs again, he really doesn’t want to be doing this. “Darlin’, I really am sorry but I need you to bail me out.” 

She’s silent again for a second, “Now?” 

“Yeah, it’s friday. If I don't get out tonight I'll be here all weekend.” He’s speaking faster now, he sounds like he’s panicking. Shit, is she really gonna do this? Of course she is. She sighs as she stands up. Tommy hears it and it makes his chest squeeze again, guilt flooding him as he speaks. “Please. I’m sorry.” 

“Which jail?” She asks - he tells her. A feeling of relief almost overtakes the guilt as he hears her shuffling around on the other end. 

“Okay.” She says, slipping her shoes on. “I’ll be there soon.” 

“Shit, thank you sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you.” He promises. She doesn’t respond - the line goes dead. Honestly, he feels like he’s getting mixed signals. Was she mad? Was she upset? He couldn’t tell. Fuck Joel for not answering.

Half an hour later she’s pulling up in front of the station. Her heart is beating faster than ever, maybe she should have left him here over the weekend. Taught him a damn lesson. She knows she doesn’t mean that, but she seriously considers it as she gets out of her car. The place is weirdly empty for a Friday night, a few people sitting on chairs in front of the desk. Only two people sitting behind said desk, she had expected it to be a lot crazier. Maybe the crazy is happening where Tommy is, somewhere in the back. In just a few minutes after a conversation at the desk Tommy is walking towards her. He looks more nervous than she’s ever seen him. His usual cocky and confident demeanor, which she loves so much, has been replaced by guilt and embarrassment. She stands with her arms crossed as she waits, watching as he’s handed back his phone and wallet. 

“Hey.” He says as he turns to her, he almost wishes he could go back inside. 

“Hi.” She replies, she turns and leaves. He follows, already going through an apology speech in his head. When they get outside she stops by her car, turning to face him. 

“Baby, look, I'm sorry. I-” He starts his speech but is cut off by her soft hands grasping his face. Her hands are warm on his cheeks and he brings his own hand up to rest on top of hers. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks. He nods, his gorgeous brown eyes wide as he anticipates what she’s going to do next. She surprises him by leaning up to kiss him, pulling his head down to meet her lips. He sighs as she kisses him softly, his hands wrap around her middle - he pulls her as close as he can. He had been contemplating tonight being the end of this, all his worries that he had disappointed her melting away as he felt her smile against his lips. 

“You’re an idiot.” She mumbled against his skin as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. He mirrored the grin on her face as he pulled away from her, she was still holding his face lovingly. 

“I know.” He smirked. Shit, even after all this - a night of drinking, an apparent bar fight and a few hours in jail, he still looked gorgeous. 

“So, am I taking you home or?” She trailed off, stepping away from him and rounding her car to the drivers side. 

“Only if you’re coming with me.” 

“We’ll go to mine then. I have work in the morning.” She says, and that guilty feeling almost returns, but when he sees the smirk on her face, he mirrors it with the same amount of enthusiasm. 

When they enter her apartment, Tommy suddenly isn’t as nervous anymore. Alcohol still running through his veins and excited over the thought of getting to spend the night with his girl instead of in a fucking cell. She’s slipping her shoes off and placing her keys down on the shelf beside the door when he approaches her from behind, wrapping his arms around her - chin on her shoulder. 

“You’re my goddamn hero.” He jokes, mumbling the words against her skin as he nuzzled into her neck.

“Sounds like you were the hero tonight.” She whispers back, placing her hands over his and leaning back into him. He’s pressing kisses along her neck as he responds. 

“Yeah, and i got fuckin’ arrested for it.” 

She laughs loudly, turning in his arms to kiss him again. More passionately and messily than in front of the police station. His hands grip her hips tighter, one traveling down to knead at her ass. Her own hands push his button up off of his shoulders, leaving him in just his white shirt. God, he looked good today. She can feel his cock through the front of his jeans as his hand on her ass pulls her forwards into him.

“I gotta admit,” She pulls away from him, his mouth tries to follow hers but she grasps his hand, leading him to her room. “It is kinda sexy, Thinking about you winning a fight.” 

She decides that maybe he deserves a bit of a show after the night he’s had. He’s standing in the doorway watching her, his trademark smirk plastered onto his face as she slowly takes her shirt off - Tommy’s shirt, actually. Already braless from being woken up at midnight, the jacket she had thrown on top of his shirt has already been abandoned at the door. He couldn’t lie about noticing her nipples through her shirt as she’d taken the coat off earlier. He makes a show of crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame, the smirk now turned into a grin. One that she's mirroring as she unbuttons her jeans and slowly slides them down her legs. His eyes follow, once they trail over her hips and legs he decides he can’t take it anymore. Having her standing in front of him in nothing but panties is not how he thought this night was going to end. 

“Fuck, baby.” His voice is noticeably deeper now as he comes to her, gripping her hips so she's against him. Her bare chest pressed against his clothed one. “I’m gonna give you the best thank you you’ve ever had.” 

And with that, he crouches down to haul her up into his arms - her legs wrapping around his waist as she laughs above him. He presses a quick kiss to her lips before dropping her down onto the bed. It’s his turn to put on a show now as he rids himself of his own shirt. He kneels in front of her and presses a kiss to her ankle before grabbing them both and using them to haul her towards the end of the bed. His mouth is inches from her pussy and she sighs as she feels him pressing kisses up her legs. He’s always been a tease, he lives for the sounds she makes. He loves to see her squirm. And squirm she does as he begins to slowly suck and bite the skin on her thighs. 

“Tommy.” She sighs his name and tugs on his hair and he swears his cock twitches in his jeans. “Please touch me.” Fuck, the effect she has on him is insane. He wants nothing more than to rip the denim off of his legs and fuck her into the matress, but he knows what she needs. And he will always give it to her. He presses one last kiss to her stomach before sliding her panties down her legs and throwing them behind him. 

“You’re so pretty, baby.” He whispers, just inches away from where she needs him. He used his thumbs to part her lips, a groan leaving his lips as he leaned in and dragged his warm tongue down the length of her. She sighed above him, her hands still holding onto his hair. He focuses on her clit, his tongue drawing tight circles over the nub. After a couple of strokes he closed his mouth around it, sucking gently. 

“Shit, Tommy.” One of her legs lifted around his shoulder, her heel pushing him further towards her. He smiled against her, he loved pleasing her. She always thought about how lucky she had gotten with Tommy.  A man who knows what he’s doing, and loves to do it. After playing with her clit for as long as she could take he pulled away. A beautiful smile on his face as he watched her squirm, her hands grasping his shoulders trying to push him back down. 

“You wanna come for me, gorgeous?” He asked, breathless. 

“Please.” She nods enthusiastically, just as breathless as him. “Please make me come!”

“Whatever you want princess.” He smirks, bringing his mouth back down to her pussy. His lips closed around her clit once more. He brings a hand up underneath his mouth, a single finger tracing her entrance before pushing inside. He moans against her when he feels how wet she is, adding another finger. She’s whining above him, moaning his name and pulling on his hair and he thinks about how he could definitely come like this. Shit, he has before. He fucks her with his fingers exactly the way he knows she likes, his tongue continuing to dance on her clit until she closes her thighs around his head. 

“Oh fuck, Tommy!” She moans loudly, neither of them have time to think about her neighbors right now. “I’m gonna come.” 

He continues what he’s doing as she grips harder on his hair, her legs closing tightly around his shoulders as she arches her back as she comes. He watches her face, she always looks so gorgeous like this. He fucking loves it. He fucking loves her. He keeps going until she's giggling breathlessly and pushing him away. He sits up, kneeling at the bottom of the bed between her legs, pressing one last kiss to her thigh before standing up and ridding himself of his jeans. She whimpers when she sees just how hard he is. He looks gorgeous as he stands above her, his cock flushed and leaking. He climbs on top of her to kiss her messily, her wetness still around his mouth as he pushes his tongue inside of hers. 

“How do you want me?” She whispers against his lips. 

“Fuck, turn around sweetheart.” He’s grinning at her as she follows his instructions. Turning around onto her stomach and leaning on her elbows. He takes a hold of her hips, pulling her ass up so he can get a view of her dripping pussy. “God I can't wait to fill you up, you ready for me?” 

“I’m always ready for you.” She smiles at him over her shoulder. He groans at her words, realizing he cant wait any longer, he takes a hold of his throbbing cock and lines himself up to her glistening hole. They both moan as he pushes in, her warm walls welcoming him as they squeeze him in. 

“So fuckin’ tight.” He whimpers as he begins to set a pace. “God, i fuckin’ love your pussy.” 

She feels like his words make her more wet, if that's even possible. 

“I love your cock, Tommy.” She moans as he fucks her slowly, holding himself back. He wants to enjoy her, but her heavenly cunt makes it so difficult. “Please, make me feel good.” 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I'm gonna.” He says through gritted teeth. He always does, but she loves to tease him. And she knows how much he loves to hear her beg for him. He continues to fuck her like this, picking up his pace eventually when she begins to whine for him to go faster. She breathes his name as his cock begins hitting just the right spot, her hands tightening around the bedsheets - needing something to hold on to. Her chest pressed up against the bedsheets, her body being thrust forward as Tommy fucks into her, adds deliciously to the stimulation. He knows her so well, he can feel when she's getting close. Her silky walls tighten around him, her hands clenching and unclenching as her back arches more. Her whines of his name becoming higher in pitch. He’s close too, so with a smack to her ass that makes her yelp he pulls out. She doesn’t have time to process as he turns her over climbing over her again to kiss her. She moans against his mouth, his soft lips and tongue mixing with her own. Her legs wrap around his body as he pushes into her again. Immediately setting a bruising pace, both of them too close to care. 

“You gonna come for me baby? Yeah?” He eggs her on as she nods, desperately. “Come on baby come around my cock. Let me feel it.” 

The sight of her reaching down to play with her clit as she comes undone beneath him is enough to do it for him. 

“Where do you want it?” He hisses. He knows the answer, but he always asks anyway. 

“Come inside me Tommy. I wanna feel you.” He practically whimpers her name as he empties inside of her. She pulls his face down towards her again, wanting to hold him close. He bites into her shoulder as she whimpers in his ear, still coming down from her own high. Both of them enjoying the feeling of him filling her pussy up. 

“Holy shit.” She murmurs. A drowsy smile on her face as she plays with his hair until he eventually lifts his head from her shoulder. He laughs before pressing a kiss to her cheek. He sits up, pulling out of her and biting the inside of his cheek as he watches his come drip out of her. 

“I love you.” She says, reaching for him again. 

“I love you more.” He smiles as she pulls him down for a kiss. “You gotta sleep, not long until you need to get up for work.” 

“Yeah,” She agrees, still trying out her breath. She stands up to make her way to the bathroom and stops at the door to say: “A long night of being a hero.” She hears him laugh from the bed as she shuts the bathroom door, her legs still slightly wobbly and tingling. He definitely kept his promise, the best damn thank you she’d ever had. 

[mocha-moch4]

Hey!! Could you do Bloody Queen doing bondage to AFAB!GN!Reader if that's okay? I'm seeing so much male idv characters x reader and I need some wlw love...

A/n: annon I love you 😣 The girls of idv don’t get nearly as much love as they deserve. I’m so tired of ppl ignoring how pretty Mary is..

Pairing: Mary x AFAB!Reader

Summary: simple bondage with Mary

Warnings: being tied up/bondage duh, fingering, cunnilingus, French(“you look beautiful like this, dear”) this one is nasty guys

Mary always had considered herself a reserved and well respected woman, yet here she was face buried in between your legs; the sounds of her tongue lapping up against your soaked cunt filled the room.

The ropes confining your hands to her extravagant bed frame scraped against your wrist harshly. But bloody hell, you could not care less. Pitiful whimpers accompanied by whines escaped your mouth sinfully. Your back arched as well as it could with your restraints.

Your thighs trembled, hands itching to grab the back of her hair to somehow guide her head. It was probably for the best however, since she may have complained about it afterwards. But never in the moment; in the moment, the only thing Mary thinks about is watching your face unravel from in between your legs.

“Mmm, poor thing. Do you enjoy struggling like this, dear?” she sang, venom filled lust rang out in your head. You knew Mary had a power trip when it came to this but damn. She slowly lapped up the juices that seeped out of your puffy hole, wiping her mouth sophisticatedly; she’s a lady, after all.

She pulled away from your hot core, a string of saliva intermingled with your silk connecting the two. A whine danced off your tongue again, missing the feeling of her ravishing you like a woman starved. You didn’t want to take it for granted however, you did still appreciate her eating you out despite her hesitancy towards a big mess.

Feeling a cold hand come up to cup your breast sent a chill down your back. But any wiggles were stuffed by the feeling of her free hand gripping your ankles, snaking the red rope around them, tying the knot tightly. It may have seemed counterintuitive, but hey, your brain was already mush from the pleasure, so what did you know.

“Turn around for me, sweetheart.” she smiled sinisterly, feigning innocence. Panting like a dog, you agreed, flipping to sit up on your knees, using the high elevation from which your hands are tied to keep your body up whilst you bent over, giving her a perfect view of your drenched cunt. Your back arched from the position, having your arms tied above your head and your ankles stuck together you were helpless to resist her.

She took her middle and ring finger into her mouth, soaking them. Afterwards, a hand came up to cup your cheek, forcing you to look at her as she slipped her wetted fingers into you, finally giving you the pleasure that was stripped away from you. You cried out at the entry of her long boney fingers, taking her mouth into your own, tasting a bit of yourself from earlier.

You moaned and mewled into the kiss, eyes rolling back whenever she hit the spot she was oh so familiar with. And you could do nothing but take it, only being able to wiggle, as moving any of your limbs wasn’t an option. Despite how cruel your lover could be in bed, she did make it feel delicious in the process.

“tu es belle comme ça, chérie” she spoke lowly in your ear, watching you struggle and cry as you quickly approached your high.

Now, just how will you repay your queen?

Woah confession time guys but this is my first time writing actual smut 😣 sorry if it’s dookie I’m still learning trust! Also shout out to u if u caught my bloody hell pun. Yes ikik I’m so funny

[themastaralex]

Always, even to the End.

When an anomaly mission goes bad, you're left in critical condition, while a distressed Gwen is left to handle and process what just happened, while Miguel is there to save you, making sure you don't die like his daughter once did.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, direct talk of open wounds, very poorly studied medical stuff.

This shit was so much longer than I was thinking to make it like wtf do you mean 5k words?? Also Latina reader 🫶🏼❤️

"Oh, shit."

Wounded. Red. Pain. Talons.

Then, a voice, heavily muffled.

Ears. Ringing.

You open your eyes, barely able to see a figure. Then you feel a bruise on your eyebrow, moving to your eyelid.

"..fuck.." Strained, you groan, breaths ragged. Then the figure crouches down next to you, and they pull up your mask, right below your eye.

"-die." The figure's hand moves toward your bruised cheek, lightly brushing it. "St.."

Blood rushes out from your mouth, a sign of internal injuries.

Oh. I'm dead.

Almost.

Your eyesight starts to settle a little more, as you can finally make out some more detail of the figure.

White.. Hood..

Oh.. yeah.. mission. Almost forgot.

"Ngh.." Gwen looks around and presses something on her arm, her watch. Then as the portal comes up, she picks you up and speaks something into the watch.

You're not sure what happened to you. And right now, you're sure you want to sleep.

You're tired.

The blood loss.

She grabs you and runs into the portal. The portal is short, and she has no time to waste, so she doesn't wait for the elevator, instead, she just jumps, and even though you don't have the normal spider-person sticking, she keeps you close, and held.

You recall your mask, similar to Miguel's recall.

Your face moves to the left, as you see people running and rushing toward you, medics.

A smile comes up on your face when you see Miguel rushing towards you.

Haha.

Only time he'll ever run to me.

Then you look back at Gwen, her mask off and hood down. Her teeth are gritted as hard as she can as she runs toward the team of Spider-Medics. You didn't exactly get too good of a look at her face, but you see the gap in her teeth,

Cute.

Only a second later, your ears quit ringing, and you can finally hear, as she places you on a stretcher.

"Can you hear me?!" One of the medics yells as he flashes a light in your eyes, making sure you're still here.

"Ye..yeah." Just like earlier, your voice sounds heavily strained, as if it pains you to speak, which it does.

Up until now, most of your body has felt numb, but you finally feel it, the worst hit you've ever felt in your history of being Spider-Woman/Shadow of 2099. And you don't feel your legs. Or anything past when you got hit.

"I can't.. feel my chest.." You mutter out, a whisper in the wind.

"What?" Gwen asks, narrowing her eyes at you.

You desperately look at her, as your breaths become more and more labored.

The medics rush you to the medical bay, as Miguel and Gwen follow them. They place a oxygen mask over your mouth and nose, making sure you can breathe.

Gwen contacts Miles, Hobie, Pav and Peter so they know what happened.

"EVERYONE, MOVE! MOVE, DAMN IT!" Miguel clears a path, clearly worried for you, but he'd never admit it, at least not in front of everyone.

He always had that one soft spot for you.

You always did remind him of his daughter.

Your smile, your curiosity.

God, Miguel wishes so bad you didn't, because if you die now, he'll just get hurt again, and again.

So he'll do almost anything to save you, his 'adoptive daughter'. A year and a half ago, he would have said he didn't have anything to lose.

But now.. you know the rest.

After a few minutes of rushing to the medical bay, they get you into emergency surgery, then find what happened.

"Multiple broken vertebrae, shattered spine, fractured ribs, and a mediocre concussion. We have her in surgery right now to fix her spine." The doctor glances up from his clipboard, seeing a pacing Miguel and Gwen in a chair, slouched over, thinking over and over, 'how did this happen?'.

You don't blame her. Not after what the Goblin pulled.

"I'm not even quite sure how she survived, given she doesn't have the typical spider-powers. But I do know she has a similar physiology to you, Miguel." The doctor points his pen toward the 6'9 man, as Miguel turns toward him, encouraging him to continue. "You might have to do a blood transfusion, given that she's lost quite a lot of blood."

The Goblin, he's the one who did this to you. He mimicked Gwen's voice, saying, "Spider-Woman, help!"

It was in that second that you should have known. She never says Spider-Woman. She always says Shadow.

You should have known, you should have. But of course, your feelings and thoughts got the better of you. And the fact that you have no spider-sense only made it worse.

"Alright. I'll do what it takes to save my 2nd best Spider." Gwen quietly laughs at that, but only for a second.

"And you, Gwen, we'll need to check you out before you can leave." She nods, standing and following the doctor, but not without looking back at Miguel, who is glaring at her, his fangs out and everything.

Her eyes go wide, and she turns back around as fast as she can.

Oh, shit. Miguel's gonna kill me after I get bandaged up.

She can't help but get that awful feeling in her stomach just thinking about what Miguel will do to her after.

After Gwen follows the doctor in the doors, he drops the angered look, and instead dawns a tired look, complete with lowered eyebrows and small frown.

"Chingada madre. Kid always has to be in some sort of trouble. She can never stay still." He pinches his nose bridge, in between his eyes.

He keeps his eyes on the surgeons doing your operation, then looks at you on the table, under the effects of anesthesia.

"You better survive this so I can ground you." He barely smiles, giving the illusion he's still deathly angry with you, because he is.

The only thing you think about while under is a nightmare of not being able to save Gwen if the Goblin actually had her, which is almost traumatic for you. And whenever you think of it, your heart rate spikes, and the doctors have to give you additional drugs to calm your system down.

Regardless, almost everyone who knows you is worried, knowing that having your spine fractured, broken, shattered, whichever you want to say, is huge.

The doctor finishes treating Gwen's minor and major injuries, like cuts, bruises, and her broken arm. He gives her a cast to wear on her left arm for a week or two, before coming back for a check-up.

She heads back out the way she came, stopping for a minute to see the progress they've made. Virtually zero, but this surgery is complicated and will take hours of labor to repair the broken vertebrae, piece together the shattered spine, and replicate the ruptured nerves.

For some reason, she can't help but blame herself, just like she's blamed herself for so many other things.

But you don't think it's her fault, you know it's not her fault.

Other than blaming herself for something she couldn't have prevented, she watches the surgeons work for a minute, before wanting to head to your shared quarters, which for now, will be vastly empty.

For now, it won't be filled with the sound of your pencil going at it on your sketchbook paper, or you listening to some of your favorite songs, or the sound of you criticizing either a book you're reading, or something on the holoscreen.

And she feels alone. Again.

She hasn't felt this alone in a while, since after all, you're there next to her most of the time.

Grinning, laughing, trying not to laugh when Lyla "accidentally" turns off Miguel's hologram and his butt shows.

But she has Miles, Pav, and Hobie, right? Yes, but they're not you, one of her only girl friends, and best friend at that..

She stares at your bloodied and bruised face, reminding her of when Peter died.

Her thoughts go dark for a moment, thinking about you dying. On that table. Having to tell your parents in your universe that you died saving her.

Gwen snaps out of it, shaking her head.

'No. Stop thinking like that. She has the best doctors in the Spiderverse working on saving her. She'll be fine..' Gwen isn't even really sure if she can trust her thoughts, as she lightly frowns. 'Right..?'

She closes her eyes for a second, before turning around to leave the medical wing.

She's only a few steps away from the door when an alarm goes off, flashing red lights going off all around.

"Code Red in Medical Wing B, Code Red in Medical Wing B."

"SHE'S GOING INTO SHOCK, PUMP IV FLUIDS AND GET MIGUEL BACK IN HERE, STAT!" The head surgeon yells to a nurse inside the room, as he rushes to get the fluids and calls Miguel on his watch.

Gwen rushes to turn around, as she sees the surgeons working hard to save you. Then she hears the doors slam open to her right, as Miguel sprints to the entrance of the room.

She can't bear to watch, so she doesn't. She runs, out of that wing, to your shared quarters.

She runs, just like she ran after Peter died, and after her dad aimed his gun at her, not even giving her a chance to explain.

She opens the door, moving inside, not sparing the outside a second glance. She slams the door closed, sliding down it, sitting down onto the floor.

Her eyes darted around the floor, not thinking of anything in particular, other than the obvious: that she just ran away from having to see another person in her life die. Especially one she cares so much for.

One that she cares so deeply for, that she would gladly spend everyday with, that she'd give her life for.

She raises her head, a grave realization coming to her.

"Ah, shit.." She furrows her brows, the smile on her face bitter. "I like her. Just had to realize this now, huh?" Gwen just shakes her head, biting the inside of her cheek, holding back everything else she's feeling.

Aka, everything else she's feeling that she hasn't allowed herself to feel, like loss, or anything other than the wall she put up for a while, which was promptly taken down by Miles, Pavitr, Hobie, and most predominantly, you.

And right now, all she does is sit there, thinking about how pissed she'll be at herself if she doesn't get the chance to tell you that she likes you. If she doesn't get the chance and you die, that's just another death she'll claim responsibility for, even when both you and her knew the risks.

She'll blame herself for making the multiverse lose such a beautiful smile, a selfless hero, a brilliant mind, and the girl she likes.

And again, it's only now that she realizes her stares, because back then, she took them as just admiration, respect. Especially when she looked at you in the gym, bench pressing, with Miguel spotting you. She thought that she reacted like, 'Holy shit, that's impressive!' But she was like, 'Holy shit.'

Regardless of what she used to think, she knows now. And she knows she has to tell you, if you live. And if you don't, she'll carry it to her grave.

She wishes she could just curl up into a ball and cry, but she has hero work. Anomalies to take care of.

In a rude interruption, someone knocks on the door, then it's accompanied by a light voice.

"Gwen, you okay? Open the door." Only Miles would have that soft of a voice, especially when speaking to someone who's just experienced something more than bad.

She pauses for a second, trying to think up an excuse.

"Uh, I'm changing, can't." Real smooth.

"Mhm. Okay. I'll wait." And there he goes again, with his caring demeanor.

Gwen rolls her eyes, standing from her spot on the ground. "Fine. Come in." She opens the door, allowing Miles to come inside, then quickly shuts it again.

She moves over to her bed, passing a cabinet with a couple of pictures on top, with her and you in them.

She looks at them, grabbing them after a moment of staring. In all of them, you're smiling, whether that be brightly or annoyed.

"I know you're probably feeling guilty right now. But it wasn't your fault. Risks come from being a spider-person, especially one that doesn't have a spider sense." At those words, Gwen just nods, the words going in one ear and heading out the other. She just walks over to her bed, sitting on the edge.

Miles can't help but cross his arms, furrowing his eyebrows. "That's not the only reason you're worried, is it?" He finally asks the question.

All this time, Miles was deathly sure that you liked Gwen. He knew that for sure. But he never completely expected to realize Gwen liked you back.

He always had that small thought in the back of his head, but nothing had ever come of it, until now.

When Gwen doesn't do anything but look down at her feet, it confirms Miles' suspicions.

He nods, softly smiling. Nothing needs to be said by either of them.

Miles had always liked Gwen ever since that super-collider brought them and the others together, including you.

Ever since then, she's been heavy in his head and heart, as so much of the stuff he drew during that middle year was just her. Even his mom called him out on it at one point, but he heavily denied it.

Right before the super-collider incident when you and the others were brought into Miles' universe, you were busy battling Loki, along with the Avengers.

He was beating you guys badly, until you temporarily got the upper hand. But then you got sucked into Miles' Earth, effectively making your Earth lose the battle with Loki.

When you came back, most of the Avengers were in critical condition, and your mother along with thousands of New York citizens, were dead.

You wouldn't have known. You couldn't have. Yet, everyday, you blame yourself for their deaths, because if only you had defeated Loki faster, right?

If only. That's all anyone tells themselves.

She still has the photos in her hands. She can't let go of them, because what if she loses you at that moment? Those photos will be some of the only happy moments of you two she physically has.

She laughs, for a split second, as she looks up at Miles, sitting up straight.

"She always had that same old dumb smile. Every time." Her smile is small, reminiscent of the many smiles you've had, and many of them pointed at her.

"Tell me more." Miles nods, a smile evident on his face, after getting Gwen to talk about something to cheer her up. He drops his arms from his chest, instead opting to drop his arms to his sides and loosely place them on his hips.

Of course, Miles feels sad that Gwen doesn't like him like that, but now wouldn't be the time to say anything like that. He instead focuses on giving her some comfort in your stead.

"After she smiled, she would like, laugh but it sounded like exhaling a breath, if that makes sense?" She'd take a deep breath, looking at the pictures again, softly smiling.

"She'll be okay. I know it. And if she isn't.." She quiets down a bit, slouching and placing her arms on her legs. "I'm not even gonna imagine that." She finishes off her words with an exhausted sigh. She casts the pictures one last glance, before standing and placing them back on the cabinet.

Miles follows her figure, his tone gentle. "Are you feeling better now? Need time?"

Gwen would nod at his words, always thankful for such understanding friends.

"Okay. I'll go. If you need something, don't hesitate to call." He gives her a thumbs up as he leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

For now, Gwen is more than content with her current thoughts about your situation, even with the slim chance you might not survive.

But she doesn't think about those odds. No, not for another second.

—————

Around 2 hours later, Miguel speaks to the doctors working on your spine, as they tell him they can't fix your spine.

"What do you mean, 'We can't fix her spine.' Huh? I've given you all the medical instruments of the future! Fix her damn SPINE." He looks at all of them, mentally and physically drained. His look of anger seems to dissipate when he looks at your body however.

"Her spine is beyond repair. There's too many shatters and fractures and missing pieces. She is quite literally better off with us removing her spine and installing a completely cybernetic one-"

"I don't want to hear it." Miguel sighs, his eyes looking at you on that table, bloody and unconscious.

I can't. When you need me most. Oh, kid..

He thinks for a moment, his face desperate.

You're strong, determined. So I'm hoping you can handle this.

He sucks up his pride, wearing a scowl. "I'll get you the fucking spine. Just.. make sure my kid's okay. And don't mess this shit up." He growls, only proving how serious he is.

They all nod, albeit a few of them scared. Then Miguel leaves the room, readying himself for a long night ahead of him, creating a cybernetic spine.

At that time he rushes to his lair, taking out some blueprints from when he was working in Alchemax.

He scrolls through various different types of cybernetic spines, some that attach to the intact spine to strengthen it, others that just line the spine, then there, full spine replacement cybernetics.

There's only a couple, due to the fact most of them were for cosmetic reasons. But out of the few there were, one stuck out to Miguel, a carbon black color, stemming from the part in the neck to the bottom of the pelvis.

"It looks chunky, but I'll admit, looks practical and badass." He pulls the blueprint down to his workstation, projecting it in front of him. "Okay. Hardest thing is probably how the hell the nerves are gonna work with this. But not my circus, not my monkeys."

Miguel takes a deep breath and cracks his knuckles, calling Lyla.

"Lyla, lock down the lab. I need absolute concentration to finish this in time."

"Hmm? Lock down the lab? What for?" She innocently asks, standing in front of him, on his left.

"You know why. Just do it, you know damn well you don't want the kid to die. She's the only one who tolerates your bullshit jokes." His voice takes an angered tone, as he grits his teeth.

"Alright, fine. But this wasn't for you." She locks down the lab momentarily, giving Miguel a peace sign before disappearing.

He mumbles under his breath about how much he hates her, but he won't do shit to change her.

Anyways, after his little issue with Lyla, he studies the blueprint, although it'd be so much better if his brother Gabriel was here. He always was better than Miguel at technological stuff.

Miguel clears his workstation of anything else other than anything regarding the spine.

"Time to get to work."

—————

Miguel works meticulously, yet still with a fairly quick pace. In around 11 hours, he has the spine done, and if he made it correctly, it should latch onto where the missing spine should be and 'solder' the nerves into itself.

"Hopefully.. this is good." He pauses before continuing to speak, to no one, other than Lyla, who is probably listening. "I need to rest." He breathes for a second, just taking a moment, before moving to deliver the spine to the surgeons, who right now, are probably taking short breaks while they wait.

He walks to the medical wing, the Spider Society HQ quite quiet for 5 a.m. Not many people are awake yet, seeing as Miguel pulled an all-nighter out of his ass to save you.

When he arrives, the surgeons look surprised, their eyes almost popping out of their sockets. Miguel currently looks like a ghost and a vampire had a child, and decided to never let it sleep.

"Here. I promised, and I delivered." Miguel's voice sounds strained, as he hasn't had many liquids either. He's just been so focused on saving you. Losing another person he loves, especially one he sees as a daughter would be devastating for him.

"Y-You got it?! Okay, we'll get right on it." For a few minutes, the surgeons just took a small break, maybe a few minor power naps. Because during the 11 hour period where Miguel was busy on the spine, they got on taking out your spine, part by part. So right now, you just look like muscle and fat, with your back opened up.

They were slow and steady, making sure to not take a risky shot at any point. Either way, they weren't expecting to see Miguel with the spine so soon, especially one that smells fresh off the factory line.

They carefully place the spine on a table, near your body.

At this point, they've given you so much drugs that not even a junkie would have taken this much in their whole life. But it keeps you down and out, so that's what they keep doing.

They disinfect the spine, as they lift it above you, ready to insert the brain stem part first.

All the while, Miguel waits, his face expectant. "Work.. Chingada madre, this better work." His eyes dart from your back to the spine, as they move it in.

The spine acclimates to the area, as it connects itself to the nerves. The surgeons have never seen anything like this, not in video games, TV shows, nothing. They slowly push the rest of it in, the last part in the pelvis a bit of a trickier challenge.

"Yes! YES!" Miguel smiles, his desperation turning into relief as he starts to cry, an unusual action for him. "Y-You're gonna be okay, kid." His breath hitches as he steps back, running his hands through his hair, then down his tired face.

The surgeons finally finish, after 14 hours of straight, hard, no sleep, work, they manage to save you.

They call some nurses to move you to a different room, gently placing you on the bed, hooking up all kinds of medical stuff to you, as Miguel stares at your bruised face.

He can't help but have a small smile on his face, knowing he managed to save you.

Thank God you're okay. Losing you would have sent me off the deep end.

I'm still going to ground you to high hell.

—————

3 days later, everyone's seen you in the hospital, resting. And at that time, Miguel stands next to your bed, arms crossed.

"Doctor says you should be waking up around now." His voice stays monotone, not wanting to let an inch of emotion out. "But I know you. You'll wake up unexpectedly and keep your eyes closed to surprise everyone." He'd chuckle, the corner of his mouth turning up.

There's silence for a few moments, before you start groaning.

Huh.. que chingadas..

You rustle around for a second, as Miguel's eyes stay on you. Slowly, you open your eyes, the lights of the room bright, as you get readjusted.

"Ugh.. my head. Jesus, f-" You don't dare finish that sentence the second you see Miguel right next to you. "Miguel.. Wh-What happened? How long I been out?" You try not to speak too loudly, given that you haven't spoken in the last 4 days.

"You've been out for a few days, kiddo. Anything hurts like you're gonna die?" He pulls a chair next to you, leaning back in the chair, arms on the armrests. "Or are you feeling good?"

You nod, your head still feeling a big groggy.

"No, 'stoy bien. But.. What happened? And where is everyone?" You sit up, touching your back and feeling the outside of the spine. You recoil your hand at the touch, as Miguel sighs.

"Ah, your spine was too damaged to repair. They.. removed the whole thing and I made you a new one. Like from that Cyberpunk 2077 game you like to play. And everyone.." He clicks his tongue, as he presses some stuff on his watch. "..is coming now."

You look happily surprised, a large grin making its way on your face. "Thanks Miguel. Siempre me ayudas cuando te necesito." He smiles at your words, as he pulls you in for a quick hug.

"Siempre, mija." He takes an affectionate tone, as he lightly squeezes your shoulder, letting go of the hug.

Not even a minute later, the 4 musketeers show up, with smiling faces.

Your eyes light up at their appearances, especially after seeing Gwen's relieved face. She smiles, and you can see that tooth gap you love so much. Then you see the cast on her arm, but decide to bring it up later.

Miguel follows your gaze, landing on Gwen. He looks back at you and just smiles, as they approach.

"Heard sleepin' beauty was finally awake from her kip. Gwenny here was in bloody shambles the entire time. We were too, 'course, but, ah, she barely slept, ate—" Gwen interrupts Hobie, nervously laughing, trying to keep her collected persona intact.

"He's uh.. exaggerating." She walks over to the right side of the bed, crossing her arms as she glares at Hobie near the head of the bed. "But I'm really happy to see you're okay."

Everybody else other than Miguel either awws, or oohs.

Meanwhile, you just keep your eyes on her, smiling like an idiot. "Thanks, Gwen. Means a lot to hear you say that." Then your eyes move to the three dudes bunched up together at the head of the bed.

"And you three, what no, 'Congrats on not dying!' shit? Nothing? Damn, leavin' me out to dry here."

Miguel enjoys the active atmosphere around him, but he has work to do, so he leaves, giving everyone a quick goodbye and you, one last hug.

After he leaves, Miles sits down in the chair Miguel was in, leaning back.

"So how long you gotta be here? Few weeks?" Miles asks, as he looks around the room.

"Not sure, I doubt a few weeks. Maybe another few days. Just gotta get used to the new spine, I guess."

"New spine? Fucking cool."

You spend the next hour talking with all of them, as they recap what's happened over the last few days you were out, nothing much.

After the hour's over, Miles is the first to say goodbye, as he has something to do with Margo. Then Hobie and Pav have training to do, as they said, 'He needs to learn to not be such a pussy!' 'Says you!'

Regardless, you don't mind as they leave, because that gives you some time to talk to Gwen, alone.

She walks to the chair, sitting down.

"I haven't asked you if you're okay yet, have I?" You turn towards her leaned back figure, wanting her to be completely honest with you.

"No, you didn't. But, I'm fine. Honest." You raise a brow to that, knowing she's not completely telling the truth.

"The cast?"

"Oh, this? Just to stabilize my arm after the break." Your heart drops hearing that, as you take a breath.

"Your arm broke?" You say, pausing as you look at it. "Shit." A mumble under your breath, as she sighs, gently punching your shoulder with her right hand.

"Yeah, it broke, but it's fine. I'll be fine, don't worry." She smiles, with a slight nod at the end.

You tiredly sigh, mindlessly grabbing at the blanket on top of you, thinking. "You know," You didn't use the 'y'know' combination, so Gwen knows this is serious. "The entire time, while I was out, you were the only thing I was thinking about." You keep your voice quiet, as your face expression is soft.

"I like you, Gwen. And I wanted to say that now because who knows if something like this happens again, to either of us, but we don't survive?" Your words are raw, coming straight from the heart.

Every time you've envisioned yourself telling her this, it's always been during a rainy day, particularly on the roof of the Spider Society HQ. Either way, you never got far enough to see what she'd say.

But now, you've shot your shot, and you're hoping you don't miss.

Gwen bashfully smiles, looking from your hand to your face. "I like you too. It took me a while to realize, but I know."

You turn your body slightly to face her, butterflies in your stomach. "Good. I thought I made it kind of obvious." A gentle laugh emanates from you, as she looks at you, from your smile to your nose, to your eyes.

"Obvious? I don't think you were obvious if I didn't catch on to it."

"No, you're just super oblivious."

She stands up, leaning on the guardrails on the bed. "Oblivious, huh?" She chuckles, leaning in.

You smile, moving a hair out of the way, then pulling her in for a kiss. Your hand moves to her neck, with your thumb on her cheek. Her soft lips connect with your slightly chapped ones.

It lasts for a few moments, before you separate, dumb excited grins on your faces.

"Was that obvious enough?"

"Hmm, no.. I think you'll have to show me again."

You laugh, looking all around her face, remembering every little detail, down to the last almost invisible freckle.

You'll never forget this, mainly due to the fact that right afterwards, your heart rate monitor spiked and some nurses came in and saw you guys. Now, that, you'll never forget, because Gwen was there with you.

(If yall are at all curious as to what the spine would be here it is, cyberpunk77 reference 🫶🏼🗣)

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

"Do you have a favorite, Jason?"

It's been over twenty four hours Red Hood has broken up an entire prostitution ring, and shot fourteen idiots who don't understand what the word no means.

Finally he got home got out of all his gear was about to eat his left over pasta before his idiotic older brother decided he needed to sit on his couch, and ask very stupid fucking questions at three in the god damn morning.

He would just shoot the stupid bird but he doesn't need big bad bat knocking on his door. Time to play whatever game is going on in his head.

"Big Bird get to the god damn point I'm fucking tired."

He looks straight at Dickhead he looks nervous yet, he's still which is never a good sign Nightwing is only a statue when something horrible happened. He runs quickly through the locations of all idiotic birds and as far as he knows they are all locked up in FortManor under Alfred's tender care.

"I asked if you had a favorite?"

-----

Dick isn't really functioning on all cylinders right now.

It was dangerous to come here not that Little Wing would hurt him, but he feels off like his entire soul is stripped bare for all to see.

He doesn't leave, he doesn't think he can.

-------

"Are you talking about the family big bird? You have got to give me something."

Jason's watching for a hint of where this is going if this is gonna be a sad big brother who needs a hug. Maybe he's gonna have to kill someone.

Or call Bruce.

He doesn't want to but there's something in the air like a bomb is going to explode. He can almost feel the seconds counting down.

"I have a favorite Jason don't you?"

"Maybe I do Dickie what's it to you?"

It can just be that right, big brother not living up the hype something deeper has to affoot he wouldn't show up just to be insecure.

He can practically hear Bruce's voice in his head look deeper.

Analyze.

Dickie worried about favorites it's not a secret that Jason isn't it.

That would be the baby birds Damian or Tim.

Tim is his little protege wearing his colors, stealing his guns. Which reminds him He has to get that back. It's no secret he has a favorite they call themselves team red.

He's not getting anything.

"Alright I bite Baby bird, which you knew?"

-------

He can't think before he can even control himself he has Jason pinned escrima cracking at his neck looking into his brothers eyes he doesn't seem surprised it's almost enough to let go. Yet little wing opens his mouth anyway.

"Let me guess feeling jealous dickie, not the perfect older brother? Alert the news golden boy ain't perfect"

He wants to wipe the smirk off his face he wants to break his teeth in feel his blood coat his fist.

----

Jason wants to be angry standing with a pissed off older brother on top of him yet even as he goaded something bugged him.

He missed something.

What happened tonight he's wracking his brain.

Where was Nightwing, patrolling with Red Robin.

Ok so how did we get from Point A to Point B.

Is it?

He forces his pulse to relax while he pokes the bear.

"It's not Damian is it Wing?"

Nightwing steps back releasing him he looks horrified Jason can't tell if it's from the murderous jealous rage or caring about Tim in his experience they go hand in hand.

"It's not Damian why isn't it Damian?"

Oh in a way he feels guilty but it's almost vindictive in nature.

Damian is a good kid he's the baby has a special spot but for Jason he's nothing not someone he wakes up everyday wanting to check on.

He can't trust the kid to watch his six he would take a bullet for him.

Yet he's not Tim not his Baby brother who had the sweetest tech badassness pouring out of him.

Why is it so surprising that Tim is the favorite.

As he thinks he feels himself getting angry why can't the kid who threw his entire life into it get a bit of fucking recognition. The boy who still looks at Dick like the sun shines out of his ass why can't he be the favorite.

Maybe it's cause he knows Tim loves him even but he wants Dick out of his fucking sight.

"Get out."

"Wait hold on" Dick trips as Jason pushes him out straight to the front door.

"I don't care get out that kid he worth it all and you might be a shitty older brother but I'm not go fuck your self."

As he goes to slam the door he looks the man that he would have died for killed for a man that he has always called his brother and he gets it.

For once he understands why Dickie always guarded the birds why he always looked two seconds away from loosing it.

"Don't bother ever coming back I only have one brother and it sure as shit ain't you and I will do you one. I won't tell any of them about this convo but let's make one thing clear."

Looking straight at Dick.

"Tim is a better man than you will ever be stick with the demon brat I got Red."

He slams the door sinking down to the floor he wants to sob.

Scream instead he goes to the manor tommorow pretends nothing ever happened.

But it's never the same cause he will always be Jason Todd.

Red Robin will always be his Robin.

But he will never be Tim Drake''s.

[agentconniereid]

The F.B.I's Café

Chapter 1: Meet Cute

Pairing: Spencer x oc (Sasha Petrov)

Warnings: None! At least that I can think of...

She was a baker, he was an F.B.I agent. Can I make it anymore obvious?

Considering nearly every prediction of how that day could've gone, I truly should've been more excited. However, the only thing I felt as I woke up that morning, was dread. It was the day of the grand opening of my café, the one I'd been working towards my entire life. Well, maybe not my entire life. My first choice was to become a spy, but that's not quite realistic, is it? Damn you James Bond.

Despite the monumental gravity the day was supposed to hold, the dread I felt was supported by the equally monumental amount of work that needed to be completed. While opening a café theoretically seems like a tranquil practice, my life in recent years has been nothing of the sort. Lease agreements, contractors, licences, insurance, what am I going to do if the place burns down, my landlord's a dick. There were a million things going through my mind as I navigated the dingy metro system.

When I finally arrived at my café and started the gruelling process of getting the place ready to open, I couldn't help but notice something. Lia wasn't there.

Lia, my sweet, sweet, foolish assistant. She said she'd be there by 7.00 A.M, but as I looked down at my watch on the hand that wasn't putting cookies in the oven, I read 7.30 A.M. That girl is dead.

I baked what I had left in the refrigerator the night before. Cookies, pies, brownies, pastries. I then unloaded the sourdough bread and freshly baked desserts into the display case and shelves strewn across my bakery. All. On. My. Own. Once all the machinery and lights were on, the desserts and my precious bread delicately placed in their designated spots, I finally flipped the sign hung on the front door from closed, to open.

5 minutes passed, then 10, then 15. No Lia, no customers. I sighed, disappointed that Lia still wasn't there, but took the opportunity to relax a little before having to socialise. I grabbed a book from my bag, the one I decided would be most suitable this morning. Empty Planet, I loved it as a kid and wanted that kind of nostalgic comfort after such a stressful few months.

Not even a few lines into the book, I heard the bell I attached to the door ring, signalling someone had entered my cafe. I was anticipating Lia, I wanted to see her sweet face for me to scold. But I was met with a tall, bedheaded, tired looking man. He wore a brown blazer over a light coloured patterned button up and a crooked tie under a light grey sweater vest. As I said, his hair was messy, very messy. It was light brown, curly, and much longer than a guy would usually like it. As he approached the counter, I noticed the smaller details of his face. His scruffy stubble, his button nose, his dark purple eyebags that accompanied his brown honey-like eyes that seemed to shimmer in the sun.

"Um, hello?" his voice pulled me from my trance. Even his voice was sweet, like honey. "Oh, sorry. Hello, see anything that catches your eye?" I asked with a smile, trying to seem friendly despite the frustrating start to my morning. Y'know, as friendly as you can be while running on 3 hours of sleep and a missing assistant.

"Are those... Cookies?" he asked, his eyes fixated on the chocolate chip cookies in the display case. He was almost drooling. "Yeah, just baked them like less than an hour ago. I suggest you get them while they're warm." I chuckled, amused that my cookies had him so mesmerised. "Can I get six?" he asked, his eyes finally meeting mine. Six? Do they look that good? "Um, sure... They look good, huh?" I giggled as I grabbed a paper bag for his cookies. "Oh, no! They're not all for me! I'm buying some for my team." he blurted out, looking somewhat embarrassed. 'Team'?

"Team?" I vocalised my thought. "Oh, um- Coworkers." he stammered, like he said something he shouldn't have. "Right." I chuckled as I handed him his cookies. "Anything else?"

"Can I just get, um... Black coffee with as much sugar as physically possible?" the man hesitantly requested as he reached for the bag. I let out a soft giggle at his peculiar order.

"So... Coffee whithout the ghastly bitter taste?" I joked as I made my way to the little moka pot station I had set up. He returned my laughter. "You could say that."

I'm aware that such a method of coffee making seems rather lacklustre for a self-proclaimed café. However, I find that those irritatingly tricky espresso machines make the process of brewing coffee far too complicated. But, I also just find moka pots rather charming.

I finished up his drink and walked over to him. "A diabetes inducing black coffee for..." I trailed off with my hand outstretched to him for him to receive his affectionately named drink. "Spencer." he snickered as he took the it from me. "Spencer." I repeated. His name rolled smoothly off my tongue and rung comfortably in our ears, as if it was ment to be said in my voice. That's how it felt to me at least. He seemed to feel the same, as a slight tilt of his head accompanied the smile he already wore. "...This is usually the part where you'd say your name."

Oh.

"Oh- Sasha. It's Sasha."

(A.N. EEEEEEE FIRST CHAPTER'S DONE!!!! Not a lot of interaction between Spencer and Sasha, ik BUT TRUST ME! We will get our sweet sweet fluff eventually... But not without some angst.)

[fantomette22]

Crying after beating a Soulsborne game and DLC is the story of my life hehe. That’s why they’re so special! The sense of achievment is wonderful and the stories + atmospheres + endings are always so emotional. I’m delighted it hit you hard 🖤

Yeah! But not just crying, literally sobbing and crying my eyes out... been a while... and I don't recall doing that for any other FromSoftware game so far XD it's usually more for very story/characters oriented game & movies /series/books etc

Idk I should be more happy and I was and I am proud but it soon turned into sadness. Idk I guess with what happened to some npcs afterwards + item descriptions + end of elden ring finally + finishing the boss + other mini stressful stuff in my life I supposed I just needed a lil breakdown... I did cry again after reading this message too XD that's why I answered not on the spot I'm very tired too now... idk I re thought of the implications I learn in the end I suppose

So hm yeah mega spoilers for the end

So yeah finally beat Radahn and Miquella! X

Damn look at this 1 HP wtf?!?!

After 247/260h damn what an adventure (my ps5 is telling me 261h jfbekzk)

Ok so of course I feel a bit sad for them too bc it's so tragic...with what he say in flashback it sound just so... he really wanted the best but it didn't work... but I was still fine after reading it

Then...

I mean I already knew about this but again that was still ok i just felt a bit sad for them (also a few days ago finally meet invader hornsent just before Romina. But like I already beat Leda & co since at least a week+ 💀)

But after I went to see Trina... I knew what was gonna happen but.. idk with the music and all i

Well yeah i started crying. I cannot express it well now but that's just so freaking tragic and sad

Then after somehow calming down I went to buy & look at the other descriptions at the roundtable hold.

And I just wanted to cry even more... and I did a few mins afterwards. Even harder than before.

It's speaking about us isn't it? We completely fucked up his plan right? We refuse to follow... Even if it was always doom from the start and game doesn't leave us much choice on this... but like ... I couldn't stop myself from crying at all of this. To the tragedy and pain of all of this. Maybe because I am too similar to Miquella in some sense. Because we can't change anything that is happening in this storyline. Because I'm stress for other dumb things this past few days. Well maybe it create a lil opportunity to destress...

Sorry I'm probably not making lot of sense now? XD I'm better but I need to sleep now I'm very tired.

To finish I went back where it all began!

[wheels-of-despair]

Werewolf Children Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: The first time Eddie spent the night with Evil Woman, it was kind of an accident… Contains: Lunar insomnia, mentions of supernatural creatures... is napping together a love language? Words: 1.6k

"Another rough one, Werewolf Child?"

You grumble into your cereal as your mom enters the kitchen and pours herself a cup of coffee.

"Last night should've been the worst of it, maybe you'll get some sleep tonight."

"A girl can dream… or maybe she can't," you giggle. You're in the 'I'm Funny' stage of sleep deprivation now. School should be fun.

You've had trouble sleeping during the full moon - and sometimes, a few days before - since you could remember. When you were little, you used to escape your crib and explore your room. Now, you mostly listen to music on your headphones or lie there and overthink. Your eyes are usually too tired to read by the time the moon is actually full.

But as your mother said, last night should've been the worst of it. You were looking forward to going to bed tonight… you just have to get through a full day of school first.

Eddie was a little late picking you up. He greeted you with a wave and a yawn when you slid into the passenger seat of his van.

"Werewolf problems?" you asked as he backed out of the driveway.

"Huh?"

"Is the full moon keeping you awake?"

"Is it a full moon?"

"…yes."

"Maybe? Is that a thing?"

"Yeah. They call it lunar insomnia. Mom calls it lycanthropy. Says I'm a Werewolf Child."

"I always thought of you as more of a vampire," he smirks, looking over at you with half-lidded eyes.

"Either way, I'm gonna bite you if you don't keep your eyes on the damn road."

"Don't threaten me with a good time," he mumbles, looking forward and taking a swig of his Mello Yello.

Despite his lateness, you still have a few minutes to loiter in the parking lot before you have to go inside the fluorescent halls of Hawkins High.

You stand in a circle with the other Hellfire members who have gathered there at Eddie's usual parking spot, vaguely aware that they're discussing something nerdy that happened on TV last night. You're too tired to care. Eddie places his hands on your hips and moves you a few steps to the side, then pulls you back against him, sandwiching himself between you and the van. He rests his chin on your shoulder and wraps his arms around your middle. You lean your head against his and place your hands over his, feeling your eyes grow heavier…

And then the fucking bell rings, making you both jump. The jolt gives you enough energy to get to your first class, but you feel yourself fading again as soon as you sit down. You're used to this; you can make it. Or at least fake it. Eddie is not so skilled in the art of functioning on very little sleep.

He props his elbows on the table and puts his head in his hands. You look at the clock, then at his bloodshot eyes. You suspect he hasn't blinked since the first bell rang.

"Go to sleep, I'll wake you up when the announcements are over."

"Can't sleep here. Not around these fuckers," he grumbles.

"Nobody's gonna fuck with you while I'm here. Go ahead, you've got," you look at the clock again, "13 minutes."

He scoots closer to you, crosses his arms on top of the table, and drops his head into them. His hair covers his face. You lean your elbow on the table and prop up your head, looking down at him. Your free hand instinctively disappears into Eddie's hair and begins lightly scratching his scalp. He moans and scoots closer, and you watch him with a smile as you ignore the drone of the morning announcements.

"Alright, lovebirds, it's time for learning!"

You heave a sigh at the teacher's teasing and extract your hand from Eddie's hair, giving him a light double-tap on the back as a sign to get up. He pulls himself upright and stares ahead, eyes unfocused.

Somehow, you made it through 'til lunch. You sat at the designated freak table and watched Eddie walk into four different people on his way to you. He looks like a zombie.

You don't even let him sit. "Come on," you order, standing up and turning him around and pushing him toward the door. He doesn't even have the strength to argue. When you exit the cafeteria doors, you head toward the van.

"Is this a lunch time quickie?" he asks, a little perkier.

"It's a 20 minute nap, dweeb."

"That works," he yawns, "too."

He opens the van's back door, shoves some junk (sorry, "necessary band equipment") out of the way, and waits for you to crawl in. You lie on your back with a balled up sweatshirt for a pillow. Eddie claims his favorite pillow: you. With his head on your chest, you reach up to set the alarm on your watch.

"Alright Munson, we have 21 minutes to sleep, then 3 minutes to cram food in our faces on our way back to class."

"Kay," he mumbles into your chest. In less than a minute, he's snoring lightly. You allow yourself to close your eyes for a few seconds too... well, it felt like seconds. The beeping of your watch jolted you awake.

"Nooo," he whines, nuzzling closer.

"Come on, two more classes, then we're free." You'd love nothing more than to just go back to sleep, but you have a quiz next period, and Eddie doesn't need to be missing any classes either. "Move it, Munson." He gets up with a grumble, and you both wolf down a sandwich and chug a can of pop on your way back inside.

You part ways with a "see you at three" and wait for the caffeine to kick in. Two more classes. You can do this.

Somehow, you did. You might have even gotten a decent grade on that quiz. But Eddie's so dead when he stumbles over to his locker, you're amazed he's still standing.

"Keys."

"Hm?"

"Give me your keys. Zombies don't drive."

"You sure you can handle her?"

"She'll behave for me, if she knows what's good for her." You smirk at each other, he shoves a few things into his locker, and you return to the parking lot.

"You guys okay?" your brother asks, already there waiting.

"We're fine."

"You sure? I can drive if you want."

"No!" you both shout. He holds up his hands in defeat and gets in the back with a grumble.

You get in, maneuver the massive hunk of metal out of the parking lot and onto the road, and miraculously make it home without incident. Eddie's leaning his face against the window when you park. You reach over and give his leg a tap, and he jumps.

"C'mon," you order. You stuff his keys in his jacket pocket, and he follows you inside.

"If we're not awake by time for Mom to get home, come yell," you instruct your brother, who salutes sarcastically before ducking his head into the fridge to hunt for a snack.

When you get to your room, you grab two pairs of sweats from a drawer and throw one at Eddie. He misses, and bends to pick them up. You're out of your jeans and jackets in seconds. You lose your bra, set the alarm on your watch, crawl into bed, and wait for him to join you. Ignoring your pillow, he settles his head on your chest again. Not that you mind. You pull the covers over him, kiss the top of his head, and let it all fade to black.

When you wake, it takes a moment to realize where you are. The first sleep after the full moon is always the deepest. Once you remember what day it is, and why Eddie's laying on top of you, you stretch a little. You'd been in this same position for hours, and your body was not happy about it.

"Time'sit?" Eddie mumbles into your chest.

You bring up your watch arm and squint at the tiny glowing numbers.

"Shit, it's almost six, Mom'll be home any minute!"

You both fly out of bed and back into your jeans.

"You wanna stay for dinner?" you ask, trying to smooth your hair in the mirror.

"Nah, your mom's probably sick of me, I'm good to drive." He shrugs his jacket back on. "Look okay?"

"Always," you grin, pulling him in for a quick kiss. "Alright, look innocent."

You approach your bedroom door… and find a note taped to the back of it. Hadn't you left it open when you came in?

You two were so cute, I couldn't bear to wake you.

Eddie, I called your uncle and told him you were out cold. If you happen to see this before dawn, you're welcome to stay the rest of the night.

There's meatloaf in the fridge, and a deer carcass from last month's hunt in the freezer if you little monsters are hungry.

Sweet dreams, Werewolf Children.

You look from the note to Eddie… and then at your watch… and then you rush to the window. It's pitch black outside. You chuckle darkly.

"Eddie, it's six o'clock in the fucking morning."

You're both hit by a fit of giggles, and cover your mouths to try and quiet them.

"No wonder I feel so rested," he grins after he's recovered.

"Well… you wanna stay for breakfast?"

"Might as well," he laughs, taking his jacket back off.

Your mother and brother were very relieved to find that the Werewolf Children had chosen pancakes and sausage over the deer carcass.

[ghostofthemost141]

Heard

Pairing: Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Reader, First POV, no use of (Y/N)

Word Count: 2,388

Themes: Platonic Relationship, Fluff, Comfort, Some Angst

!Warnings!: Some Homophobia Violence (none of it comes from you or any of our main men and isn't graphic) and some !18+! Suggestive Talk

About: You and Soap have been best friends for many, many years and are completely inseparable. When he is home from a mission one night, he invites you to y'alls usual late night talks in the park, except this time it is different.

Notes: I'm a little iffy about this one but I hope y'all enjoyed it and I promise I will do more Ghost x Reader soon I just wanted to give Soap some love. I am gonna pick Bonnie again for this fic but for my next Soap x Reader I will pick another name to use and reader also has a accent in this. And this is an AU were Graves and Shepard aren't traitors (even though Shepard is the absolute worst). Enjoy!

“What a damn day..” I mumble to myself as I saunter into my apartment. 

Today was a rough and busy day at the job, but at least I was off for the next two days so I can just relax with a good beer and watch some good TV and maybe even catch up on some reading. There’s so much you can do in two days of freedom. Speaking of beer, I think I will have one now. As I was walking into the kitchen to grab a beer, my phone started ringing. That’s weird, nobody really ever calls me this late at night. Probably my mum. I grabbed my phone to look to see. 

Soap 🧼 is calling..

Oh Johnny! Damn it’s been a day or two since I heard from him, he must’ve just now gotten a break from the mission he was currently on. I answered it quickly. 

“Johnny!” I greet him. 

“Hey Bonnie.” 

“You doing alrigh’, mate?” I ask. 

“Meh could be better.” 

“You back home yet?” 

Silence was met between the two of us. I knew Johnny was still on the line for I could still hear his breathing on the other side. Usually he is a big converser, so he must be tired. 

“Johnny?” 

“Can you meet me now? Please.” Johnny begged. 

This was unusual for Johnny. He sounded frantic, worried and even scared. I knew exactly what he was talking about. Everytime he would come home from missions, we would meet out at the park nearby to talk about his mission and anything that happened while he was gone. I assume he was back home if he was frantically asking to meet up with me. 

“Yeah, of course. I just got home so it will be a minute. Are you okay?”  I ask, hearing his tone that was out of character for him. 

Johnny was silent for a moment except for his shaky breaths. What happened Johnny? 

“MacTavish. Are you okay? Are you safe?”  I asked. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m safe. I promise. I’ll be at our usual spot.” Johnny told me. 

“Okay, be there in ten.” I said, going through my clothes to find something to throw on. 

“A’ight.” 

Johnny then hung up the phone and I couldn’t help but feel a very sour taste in my mouth from that. I don’t think I have ever heard Johnny sound so..scared. Man goes into battle with a high risk of dying and would always retell it to me as if it was nothing but a walk in the park. Something must’ve happened to make him really scared. I eventually found a long sleeved t-shirt, some lounging pants, and mismatched socks to put on and did just so. I thought maybe I should bring some tequila or bourbon but then again, Johnny always told me what to bring and this time he didn’t. Fuck it, I’ll bring it just in case. You never know. I grabbed some bourbon, slipped my shoes on, grabbed my keys, and rushed out the door, knowing Johnny is probably waiting for me. 

~

“There ya are, MacTavish.” I announced my presence as I made my way to the park bench he was sitting on. 

“‘Ey, Bonnie.” Johnny softly said. 

Okay, something definitely has happened. Normally Johnny would come up to me and greet me with a bear hug or even a handshake when he first sees me, but now he was sitting still and speaking oh so softly to me. What’s going on? 

“What’s going on, Soap? Talk to me. You sounded panicked over the phone.” 

I sit next in front of him, offering my hand for comfort. Johnny immediately took it and held it, squeezing it even. Johnny and I have been best friends for many, many years now that you could consider us as non-blood siblings. We talk to each other about everything, do just about everything together, and are always there for each other. As we grew up, everyone thought we would end up together as a couple but we never did. We just stayed really, really close best friends and stuck with each other through the thick end. And yes we have had some arguments, as any normal pair of siblings would, but that was mostly when we were younger. Now we are both older adults, we just bicker at each other until the other gets annoyed enough to just ignore the other. Johnny kept squeezing my hand, and I could even feel him shaking. And it’s not from the cold weather that’s going on right now. 

“Johnny..” I reminded him that I was here. 

His bright blue eyes looked up at me. He looked terrified. 

“Lass, talk to me.” I reassure him, leaning in close to him, “you know you don’t need to be scared with me.” 

“I know..” He softly said. 

He was finding the words to say to me, but I will sit out all night if that’s what it takes for him to talk to me. 

“Something..happened, during my mission.” Johnny started. 

“Go on.” I ushered him. 

Johnny paused once more, still trying to gather up the right words to say. 

“You want somethin’ to relax ya?” I offer the bottle of bourbon to him. 

He stares at it for a few seconds before shaking his head. 

“No, but thank you, Bonnie. I appreciate it. I appreciate you very much.” 

I know he wasn’t necessarily thanking me for thinking about him by bringing him the bourbon, but for just being there for him in general. 

“Remember last time we talked?” Johnny asked me. 

I racked my brain to remember and luckily I did. 

“Of course I do. You were talkin’ about how Price was cursing under his breath about how he lost a damn good cigar when the airplane crashed.” I recalled. 

Johnny chuckled when I said that. Of course we talked about much more than that, but I figured I’d try and lift his spirits a little. 

“I had to hold back me laughter when I heard that over the coms.” Johnny admitted. 

“I don’t blame ya.” 

I have met Price plenty of times and you can tell he cares about the boys a lot but also doesn't take shit from nobody. Would offer his shoulder to cry on but will get pissed at them if they touch his whiskey kinda guy. The mood quickly went back to the way it was before, so it was time to be serious. 

“You mentioned to me how you were working through your feelings and emotions. As well as who you are attracted to.” 

The second it left my mouth, Johnny’s eyes wallowed in tears. I squeezed his hand as he sniffled in response and leaned his head forward, his forehead resting on our locked hands. 

“Johnny..” I call him, rubbing his head. 

Suddenly Johnny broke out into incoherent sobs. Tears ran down my hand as he just sobbed and sobbed. 

“Johnny, come here.” I called him as I got up quickly and got next to him so I could hug him. 

Johnny immediately accepted my hug, sobbing into my shoulder. 

“I’m so stupid, stupid..stupid.” 

I heard Johnny mumble through his sobs. I held him tightly, rubbed his back, and cooed at him with as many comfort words as I could think of. What in the bloody hell happened? 

“Johnny you’re not stupid.” 

“Yes I am.” 

“No you’re not Johnny. I am here for you always. No matter what it is.” I reassured him, hoping to soothe him a little bit. 

Johnny managed to finally calm down a little bit and I let him pull away from me. 

“I’m sorry..I just..” 

“Don’t you apologize you wanker. You never ever have to apologize with me, Johnny and you bloody know that.” I gently got onto him. 

He knows better than that. 

“Just talk to me. Tell me what happened so I can help you out.” I told him while squeezing his shoulders. 

Johnny wiped his face clean and managed to calm down, just enough to talk to me. 

“We were out at dis bar where we were stationed at. And at that poin’, the only person I ever told about how I was feeling internally was Simon.” Johnny started. 

“Does he accept you?” 

“Fuck yes he does. He told me ‘I don’t bloody care if you’re gay or what, you’re still my teammate and friend, Johnny.’” 

I felt relief wash over when he told me that. You’re a bloody good guy, Simon Riley. 

“That’s good, Johnny.” I say. 

“Yeah,” Johnny sighed before continuing, “it was aye, Simon, Gaz, Price, Laswell, Shepard, and Graves there. Um, there were these arseholes who were picking on a kid who was dressed very femininely. They assumed he was gay and started hurting him. Of course, I step in despite Shepard telling me to back off.” 

I could feel anger boiling inside of me. Their own General telling Johnny to not help an innocent civilian? What a coward and ball-less of a man. 

“What a focking jerk-off.” I cursed. 

“So I stepped in, didn’t want to make too much of a scene. They leave the poor fellow alone but they target me. I ain’t afraid until they started accusing me..” 

“Accusing you of what, Johnny?” I ask. 

Johnny squeezed my hand tightly and I could feel his whole body start to shake again. I rubbed his hand, trying to soothe his nerves. 

“Accusing me of being a..I don’t even wanna say it, but that word they use against gays. I just..shut down when they said it. Like I didn’t want to even accept it, ya know?” 

You shook your head over what Johnny just told you. You hated that he went through that, especially since he was still internally trying to figure out his own feelings. 

“And because I shut down, they were able to swing at me and I was knocked down on the ground. Simon had to step in and help me and I just felt so stoopid. I let something like that get to me.” 

“Johnny, you don’t need to feel stoopid over something like that. It’s understandable since you’re still figuring out your feelings and you were caught off guard.” I reassure him. 

“Yeah, well now everyone knows about me. I wanted it to stay with Simon, but now they know.” 

“How do they know?” I ask. 

“I..” 

Johnny paused. 

“They don’t really, but I can tell they know something is up. And I am scared.” Johnny confessed. 

“Why? Literally the only person I am iffy about is Shepard, but everyone else, they should be supportive of you, Johnny.. And if they don’t, then you’ve got Simon. Fuck everyone else if they don’t support you, but at least you have Simon Riley.” I say, trying to lift his spirits of the only person he can count on. 

“There’s something else..”  Johnny softly said. 

“Oh? What is it?” I ask. 

Whatever Johnny was about to tell me, I could tell it was going to be harder than what he just told me. 

“Please, just don’t judge me for it..” 

“Johnny, you know I never would judge you for anything.” I reminded him. 

“I know it’s just..Simon and I..” Johnny paused once more. 

“Yeah?” 

“Well, by the time we all left the bar, all of us were kinda tipsy except for Simon. Bloody lad is never drunk or acts like it no matter how much he drinks. So we went back to our base and later on, Simon came to check on me. And uh..” 

Johnny’s face instantly turned red. Beet red. I didn’t even need him to tell me what happened cause I already knew. 

“Oh Johnny!!” I cried out with excitement, poking him in his ribs making him giggle and flinch. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Johnny said. 

“Sooo?” 

“So wha’?” 

“All I am gonna ask is, was it a good night?” I ask. 

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus, yes it was.” Johnny answered, making me laugh. 

“That’s good.” I say. 

It fell into a comfortable silence between us, but there was a question burning in my mind. 

“Johnny?” 

“Hm?” 

“Why were you so scared to tell me that, you know, you’re gay or bi? Whichever you feel like you fall more on.” I question. 

Johnny sighed deeply. 

“It ain't 'cause I didn’t think you’d accept me, I guess it’s cause I am having a hard time accepting it myself.” 

“That’s who you are and clearly Simon accepts you at the very least and I am sure everyone else will too. But if they don’t then Simon and I can beat their asses.” I half joked. 

“You’re right. I am just glad you are in my life, Bonnie. To know that if everyone else hates me for whateva reason, that you’ll still be supportive of me.” Johnny told me. 

I don’t think I have ever heard Johnny ever be this sentiment ever in over twenty years of being friends. 

“Of course, MacTavish. I’ll always be here for you.” I told him. 

Johnny then pulled me into a tight hug and I hugged back, instantly feeling the guilt and fear rolling off his shoulders. 

“Now, give me that damn bourbon. Let me tell you what Price did while we were gone this time ‘round.” Johnny announced, instantly back to his normal self. 

I laughed as I passed the bourbon to him, knowing he won’t drink enough to make him not be able to drive back home. We talked for hours and hours, till the sun started peeking over the horizon. Despite the both of us being exhausted, it was worth it in the end to be able to talk with my best friend, my non-blooded brother and to let him know that he indeed had at least one permanent supporter in his life. If Johnny has no supporters, then Simon and I must be dead, cause that’s the only way he wouldn’t have any supporters in his life until we know for sure how the rest of the task force feels, but I know they are going to accept him. They have to, or else they’re gonna get a special paid visit from both Simon and I personally. 

END 

[pedroshotwifey]

Christmas Countdown Day 12 - Javi G.

Experiments

Pairing: Javi G. x afab!reader

Word count: 1.4k

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, anal sex, anal fingering, drug use (THC edible), < idk how that actually works but I tried by best lmfao, nicknames (baby, carino, hermosa), paddington 2 honorable mention, stuff im forgetting

Summary: You and Javi get a chance to try out some new stuff

A/N: Don't know if I really like this one tbh. I found it kinda hard to write for Javi G. and it was rly late and I was tired and I'm making excuses, but, like. yeah. Hope y'all like it anyway! Tmw's prompt is snuggling, and I don't know what pboy I'll be writing for that one yet, so feel free to leave a suggestion!

***

“Babe,” you drag out through a laugh. “Quit smiling!”

Javi attempts to obey your request, but only ends up smiling wider, a laugh of his own bubbling up in his throat.

The two of you are sitting on the bed naked, you on his thighs, placing an edible on his stuck-out tongue. You’ve already popped a tab in your mouth, now just waiting for it to dissolve. 

Paddington 2 is playing on low volume on the TV in the corner, but neither of you are paying much attention to it. 

You giggle as you finally get the tab to stick to Javi’s tongue, and he closes his mouth before leaning forward to plant a kiss on your lips. You sigh into him, placing your hands on his shoulders. 

Javi looks you warmly in the eyes and runs a hand through your hair when you pull away. 

“You ready, hermosa?” 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you grin back. 

The two of you have had this conversation a few times before, but today just seems like the perfect day to go through with it. Neither of you have plans tomorrow, so you have all night to act out your deepest fantasies. Might as well do it with some THC. 

You lift yourself off of his lap and position yourself so that you're on your elbows and knees in front of him. 

“Fuckkk, baby,” Javi drags the words out. “So fucking sexy. Let me see your pretty holes,” he instructs you as he leans over to get the bottle of lube out of the nightstand drawer. 

You follow his request, quickly reaching behind you to spread your cheeks, revealing both your virgin asshole and your glistening pussy lips. 

“Damn it,” he groans from behind you, positioning himself on his knees. “Perfect fucking ass, baby.” 

You squirm and have to hold in a whine at his praise, your mind already going a bit hazy as the drugs start to kick in. There’s a studden snap from behind you, making you flinch. 

“No, ‘s okay, carino. Just gonna get you ready for me.”

You nod into the sheets and close your eyes, jolting when a cold substance starts to drip down your crack. 

“Feels so weird,” you say, words tumbling out without your permission. Javi chuckles as he snaps the lube back up and sets it down. 

“I know, baby. Just relax for me.” 

Suddenly, Javi has a finger at your hole, gently spreading lubrication around the tight ring of muscle. He applies a bit of pressure, and the tip of his finger slips in with ease. There’s barely anything there yet, but you can already see the appeal. 

“‘S good,” you slur into the sheets, your eyes still closed. 

“That’s good, baby, jus’ tell me if it’s too much.” 

Even Javi’s words are starting to sound a bit muffled, though that’s partly because he’s starting to feel the effects of the drug as well. He slides the rest of his finger in and starts to pump it in and out. 

You moan as he curls the digit slightly and it hits a heavenly spot within you, your brows scrunching as your jaw goes slack. You buck back into him, already craving more.

“Gonna put another one in, okay?” Javi asks, leaning over slightly to get closer to you. 

“Mkay,” you say, moving your hands so that you can grip the bed sheets. Javi Immediately takes over holding you open by gripping onto one cheek. 

“There’s a good girl, doing so good for me, hermosa,” he assures you as he slips another finger in. 

Soon enough, he’s able to keep three fingers inside of you comfortably. You’re a whining, moaning mess beneath him, but he’s almost just as bad with the noises he’s making. 

Without warning, he moves the hand holding your asscheek down and between your legs, quickly finding your neglected clit and making you gasp. He rubs fast circles, causing you to keen and buck your hips. 

Your brain feels like complete mush between the THC and the euphoria Javi’s producing. Every swipe of his fingers in your ass makes you groan and push back into him, so with the combination of your clit being touched, your orgasm is quick to approach. 

Before you can warn him, a wave of pleasure is wracking your body as your cunt convulses around nothing. Javi picks up speed as he fingers your ass, muttering praises as you ride out your orgasm. You think you might be drooling a bit, but you don’t care enough to check. 

“Alright, ‘m gonna fuck this little ass now,” Javi says as he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you gaping slightly. You nod at him, making a non-committal but somehow affirmative sound. 

He doesn’t waste another moment before lubing up his throbbing cock, tugging on himself a few times to warm it up for you. 

He notches himself at your entrance, groaning as he slips his tip in. 

“So good, baby, so fucking tight.” 

“More,” you whine, reaching one hand behind you to attempt to grasp him. He laughs lightly at you, prompting you to giggle as well, only for you to be cut off with a moan as he feeds more of his cock into your ass. 

You cry out when you feel his pelvis touching your ass, and he leans over you to let out a loud groan. He’s already sitting at that spot that makes you squirm, so there’s immediately a dull excitement low in your abdomen as you wait for him to move. 

And he does, not a few seconds later. He’s slow as he pulls his hips away from you, dragging his cock along your walls, and then he slams back in, almost knocking the wind out of you. He keeps up a brutal pace, grunting and moaning as he grips your hips tightly. 

You fold your arms under your head, trying to control the sounds you’re making with no success. 

“‘S so g-good, Javi,” you say through a whine. 

“I-I know, baby,” he says, sounding just as wrecked. “‘M already so fucking close. T-Tight little asshole feels so good.”

You move one hand down and start to rub at your clit, determined to come at the same time as him. 

“Fill me up, baby,” you slur out. Javi whines in response, his pace picking up which makes you sink your front end deeper into the sheets. Your entire body feels heavy, and you’re grateful Javi is holding you by your hips so you don’t fall completely. 

You feel a coil low in your belly, tightening and getting ready to snap. Every nerve feels raw, and your body feels like it’s getting warmer with every thrust from Javi and each pass of your fingers. 

“C-Come with me now, hermosa” Javi spits out, his cock already twitching in your ass. The soft movement sets you off, and you begin to come again. Your ass tightens slightly around Javi, which triggers his orgasm, and he comes with a shout, filling you with hot ropes of his cum. 

You gasp for air as you ride out your orgasms together, your movements going slower but sloppier at the same time. As soon as you’re both finished, you collapse, Javi coming down with you. 

He slips out of you, which makes you whine. You can already feel his release dribbling out of your used hole and down to your untouched pussy. He finds a spot next to you on his stomach, his face next to yours. 

Panting for breath, you stare each other in the eye, and then you start to giggle. What for, you have no idea, but you’re both cackling messes before long. 

You scootch toward him slightly, ignoring the dull pain coming from your lower body. Your vision is slightly blurry, but you’re close enough to find his lips. You make out like a couple of teenagers for what seems like hours, but is actually only a few minutes. 

After your lips start to feel numb, you separate, and you somehow have enough of a conscious mind to turn around and look at the clock. The numbers are too blurred for you to make them out, but you’re pretty sure you can make out a 3:02 if you squint hard enough. 

When you turn around to make Javi get up and check for you, he’s already snoring. You smile and put your head back down, dozing off within less than a minute.

***

Thank you for reading! Please consider liking, reblogging, or commenting if you enjoyed!

Also, lmk if you would like to join the countdown taglist :)

FOTJC: @arcanefox207 @redhotkitchen @magpiepills @exquisiteserotonin @sparklefarts38 @pink-whiskey-woman @youandmeand5bucks @legendary-pink-dot @for-a-longlongtime @secretelephanttattoo @morallyinept @beskarandblasters @tightjeansjavi @theywhowriteandknowthings @nerdieforpedro @maggiemayhemnj @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @ghostofaboy @joels-shitty-puns @elvinaa

WCC: @amyispxnk @melaninmommy @brittmb115 @mandoalorian

Link to prompt list

[queen-of-deans-booty]

The Hunter Games: Final Part

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: Sam and Dean need Metatron thinking he has all the answers to the Mark of Cain. He's a giant bug that you'd love nothing more than to squish.

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

Damn it. Why is this happening again? Cas says getting Y/N's memories is going to be more frequent but it still doesn't hurt any less to see things from her point of view. Where am I? I'm in Dean's arms. I'm in the backseat of the Impala while Sam and my father are in the front seat. Pain spreads throughout my body and I notice gashing wounds on my chest and body.

Oh, yeah. I remember this. We had just found the demon who killed Mom. He possessed my dad. We barely escaped.

"Look, just hold on, alright. The hospital's only ten minutes away," Sam says.

My body is so tired. I can feel myself falling in and out of consciousness. I never knew how much pain she was actually in.

"Sweetheart, you have to stay awake," Dean says. I nod but my eyes betray me by closing. "Drive faster, Sammy."

"I'm surprised at you, Sammy. Why didn't you kill it? I thought we saw eye-to-eye on this. Killing this demon comes first, before me and before everything," John says and looks at Sam.

"No, sir. Not before everything. Look, we've still got the Colt. We still have one bullet left. We just have to start over, alright? I mean, we already found the demon."

Sam is driving as fast as he can without causing more pain to me or my dad. I barely open my eyes to look at Dean who has tears streaming down his cheeks.

"I love you so much, Dean Winchester."

"No, don't say that. You're not allowed to say that," Dean cries.

In the next moment, the car is struck and the car slips over multiple times before skidding to a halt.

Dean groans and hits the metal table with his fist.

"Y/N, what are you trying to tell me?" he sighs. He looks at the ingredients and decides he's no longer hungry. As he puts the food back into the fridge, his phone rings. "Yeah?"

"Squirrel! I've got it," Crowley says.

"That's good to hear."

"Of course, I'm gonna hang onto it until you work out how to get that thing off your arm."

Dean hangs up on the demon and leaves the kitchen fully intending to figure out a solution. You look up and see Dean sneaking into the dungeon, and you get up to follow him. Sam and Cas don't question where you're going since they know you're not going to answer them.

"I'm guessing you're not here to reminisce," Metatron says when he sees Dean.

"We have the Blade. What's next?"

"You don't have it here? Not on your person, I'm assuming. God forbid you give it to Y/N for safekeeping."

"Not saying. Back to you. What is next?"

"This is where it gets kind of interesting, but first, it's very lonely in here. I have little to do but think, and it occurred to me that you and Y/N really need this Mark taken off you. In order to do that, you really need me. So, here's the deal. That first little tip I gave you? A freebie just because you're you. Every step from here on out will cost you. FYI, there's a bunch."

You want nothing more than to kill this motherfucker. Dean walks to the door that leads into the dungeon and spots you listening in. He lets his Mark do the talking for him. Instead of keeping you out of this, he opens the door wider for you to enter through.

"Care to join me?"

"Yes," you smirk and walk inside.

Dean closes the door and the two of you approach Metatron like he's your prey and you're hungry for blood. You grab an angel blade and circle around Metatron who tries to keep you in his sights.

"Whatcha doing there, Slugger?" the angel asks fearfully.

"I'm settling a score that's taken way too long to settle. Oh, and while I do that, I'm gonna get some information."

You reach behind him and slide the angel blade across his face which makes him hiss in pain.

"You thought I was bad? Try both of us," you whisper into his ear.

"Here's how this is going to go. You're going to tell us everything. All of it, and it ain't gonna cost me a damn dime. Slugger."

"I'd do what he says," you say and walk so you're facing the angel. "You'd hate for me to lose my temper. I might do something stupid and stick this where it doesn't belong."

"What's the next step?" Dean asks.

"I repeat my offer. Each step costs you."

"You're confused," Dean chuckles. "See, each step you don't give me is gonna cost you. It's been a long time coming. I mean, where do I begin? Stealing Cas's grace. Casting out the angels. Making Gadreel kill Kevin using my brother's hands. Starting an angel war." You twirl the angel blade in your hand with a smirk. "She has no soul, and, oh yeah, you killed me!"

"Y/N was not my fault!"

Dean decides to drop it. He doesn't need you and Metatron to know that he's harboring your soul. You, on the other hand, are tired of his voice. You walk over to the angel and stab the blade into his thigh, and Metatron lets out a scream of pain.

"I got this," Dean says and pulls you away from him. 

"Do you really want to keep feeding the Mark with power? The Mark and no soul? That's gotta hurt." You move to stab him again but Dean holds you back from hurting him. "My morality is being judged by Dean Winchester? How many people have suffered and died because they believed in you two? How many times have you lied to Sam, including, oh by the way, when he was possessed by an angel? You say, 'Oh well, it's all for the greater good.' but lately, that greater good thing just went away, didn't it? Now, people die just because you want them to."

Dean turns and punches Metatron in the face as hard as he can.

"Good, Dean. Go darker," the angel laughs. Dean punches him again. "Go deeper!" Punch! Punch! Punch! Punch! "Surely you've noticed, every time you respond when the Mark gets you all twitchy, you fall deeper under its spell. Do you think roughing up a few humans and demons makes it worse? Try messing with the Scribe of God, bucko!"

"Go get Sam, Y/N."

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm gonna kill him," he says darkly, "and I don't think I'll be able to stop."

"How is that my problem?"

"Go!" Dean yells at you.

You roll your eyes but leave the dungeon in search of Sam and Cas. You'd be lying if you said you weren't taking your time in finding them. You find them in the library.

"If you don't do anything about it right now, Dean's gonna kill Metatron."

They both look at each other before booking it out of the library. Dean has closed and locked the door behind you so it won't be easy getting inside. You stop in the middle of the hallway with the two men and cry out in pain. Your Mark is burning on your shoulder which can only mean Dean's Mark is burning on his arm.

"Kevin's death? All on you," Metatron spits out blood. "You put him in harm's way and kept him there. Gadreel possessing Sam? Who was it that tricked Sam into letting him in? Oh, and then my personal favorite: Dean Winchester. Whose entire existence is defined by a war on the dark and monstrous--bromancing his way around the country with the King of Hell! Not to mention your little witch! Who is it that her soul is tied to? God, you have no idea how poisonous you are!"

Dean punches Metatron twice.

"Let's try this again. What is the next step?"

"What is it you humans say so inelegantly? Oh, yes--go fuck yourself."

Dean grabs an angel blade and points it at his neck.

"Now it's time to get serious. What is the next step in removing this Mark from my arm?" When he doesn't answer, he slices the angel's cheek which exposes some of his grace. "What is the next step?!"

Again, the angel doesn't answer so Dean rips open Metatron's shirt and slices his skin from his chest to his stomach. Metatron tips his head back and screams out in pain; a scream which you can hear from the hallway. Sam and Cas run the rest of the way and discover the door is locked. Cas blasts the door to bits and Sam rushes in to stop Dean from killing the angel.

"Behold, the river shall end at the source," Metatron says when he notices Dean's bright red Mark.

You yank your shirt down to see your Mark bright red as well.

"No, Dean! Hey, stop, stop!" Sam says and pulls his brother away. Cas runs to check on Metatron. "You were killing him."

"I have to take him back," Cas says.

"Cas, this won't happen again."

"I gave my word. I have fences to mend in Heaven, and as it is, I have a lot to explain."

Cas helps Metatron out of his binds and starts to take him away. You walk into the dungeon and the angel's wide eyes land on you.

"If you ever ask me for help again, I will choose death. You realize it's going to get worse, Dean. You're both gonna get worse!"

While Cas takes him back to Heaven, Sam takes you and his brother to the library for a heart-to-heart talk. Dean clearly isn't doing too well but you're loving the power that comes with the Mark. The burning sensation was new and it did hurt but then you liked the pain and it became bearable.

"He said the river ends at the source."

"What does that mean?" Sam asks.

"Maybe nothing. It was the last thing he said before you guys busted in."

"We had to, okay?"

"Yeah, I know," Dean sighs. "I was gonna kill him, and I couldn't stop myself."

"You stopped me," you say.

"I wanted to be the one to do it."

"We'll figure this out, okay? You know what Cas said about needing a powerful force? I've been thinking and Cain still has his Mark, right?" Dean nods. "He's lived with it. For years, he's lived with it. Maybe the Mark is strong but I think there is a part of you that wants to give into it. You have to fight that. Maybe that powerful force has to be you."

"Wow, that's deep," you say sarcastically.

"I'm not done with you yet," Sam glares at you.

"You forget the part where Cain is a demon. That powerful force you're hoping Dean has is the fact that he is a demon and has been one for centuries. The Mark is going to consume him." You look at Dean. "It's only a matter of when."

Dean can't argue with you on this one. He knows you're right. He hopes to get it off before that happens. His phone rings and he answers it without looking to see who it is.

"Yeah?"

"It's Claire. I've thought it over. Maybe it's only fair to hear your side of it. I mean, Castiel seemed to trust you, a lot."

"Yeah, okay, where do you wanna meet?" When she tells him, he hangs up the phone. "You're coming with me."

"Why? I couldn't care less about Claire."

"You're the one who killed Randy. You get to explain to her why you killed him."

"I knew it would fuck with her. That's why I did it. I don't care that he used her or took advantage of her. I wanted him gone because it would hurt her, and that's exactly what I'm going to tell her," you smirk and walk past him.

Dean restrains from arguing with you. He looks at Sam before leaving the Bunker with you. He drives to the meeting spot that Claire gave him which is next to a lake. You and Dean leave the Impala and take a seat on the bench next to the lake.

"If you don't want me telling her the truth, why bring me along?"

"I don't know, Y/N, maybe it's because I still have hope that a part of you is still in there."

"Then you're an even bigger idiot than I thought you were."

You sit there for two more minutes until you hear Claire scream from the right of you. There is a camper in which she has been staying in. You turn to see two people behind you with weapons--one of them has a bat and the other has an axe. This was a setup. She was going to kill you for what you did to Randy.

The girl swings her bat at Dean but he ducks while the man slams the axe down on the bench right where you were sitting. The woman runs at Dean while the man runs at you, and Dean quickly overpowers her with her own bat. He turns her and begins choking her out with the bat while you grab the handle of the axe when the man swings it at you. You kick his legs and yank the axe away from him just as he crumbles to the ground. Dean flings the woman off him, and she lands next to her friend.

You throw the axe to the ground away from them and take out your gun.

"No!" Claire yells. You point it at the man who attacked you and Claire panics even more. "No, no! Please!"

"Drop the gun, Y/N."

"No, she planned to take us out. It's only fair we take them out."

You cock your gun and are about to shoot when your entire body tenses. Electricity stems from the device in your neck and you fall to the ground stiffly. The man and the woman get up and flee from the area while Claire goes back into the camper. She pulls the curtain back and stares at Dean fearfully.

He ignores her and goes to you who is still receiving the shocking treatment.

"Taking you out of the dungeon was a bad idea. Guess you're going back in."

Fuck.

x

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