#anyway this was so minimal effort I just needed to get it out please excuse the shit coloring

[needle-noggins]

Shhhh he’s listening to Waterloo

[always-andromeda]

Eating Out | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Word Count | 3,422

Summary | Eddie can't afford to take you out to dinner. Naturally, he decides to treat you to an enlightening night at Chez Eddie.

Author’s Note | remember that time I said I'd write a thing where Eddie rails you after making you dinner??? so yeah, about that, I slightly adjusted the idea to make a pun with the title...if y'all want a sequel, I am very up for it (I'm begging, please someone give me an excuse to write a sequel because if y'all want it I will do it, I know we're gonna need some fun content after the new episodes come out tomorrow lol)

Warnings | smut (MDNI), oral (male receiving), mentions of drugs, nothing else I can think of!!

Eddie Munson hates spending money on dates. He's not a cheapskate. It's just that he can't exactly spend money he doesn't have. Sure, he does odd jobs around the trailer park to make some cash on the side and gets paid in singles to play at that hole in the wall bar in Hawkins. But it's nowhere near the kind of money that would allow him to take you somewhere like Enzo's. Enzo's wouldn't be his speed anyways. If he walked into a joint like that, they'd tell him to march right back out of there after their eyeballs were done popping out of their sockets.

He loves you. God, he loves you immensely. But he'd rather pitch himself into the quarry than treat you to fine dining. That doesn’t matter anyways, he has a better idea in mind.

Eddie tells you to come to his trailer after school on Friday night. His uncle is working. You are already well acquainted with this routine. You come with minimal makeup (Eddie will end up making it run anyways) and a short skirt with panties he can easily pull aside. But when you’re knocking on the trailer door and he opens it, it’s not the Eddie you’re used to seeing. 

He’s wearing a white t-shirt that’s a little too small on him, as if it’s been a few years since he’d first gotten it. The most shocking part is the bowtie sitting right above his collarbone. It's not real, of course, but drawn on. You can see the marker streaks that reveal how he attempted to spruce up the ill-fitting garment. Your mouth hangs open at the fabric stretching across his chest, accentuating the full shape of his torso and exposing his midriff. Somehow, it’s more suggestive than if he didn't have a shirt on.

“Good evening, mademoiselle. Are you ready for an extravagant night at Chez Eddie?” He asks with a wink and a smile that shows he knows exactly what he's doing with the ensemble. His jeans hang dangerously low as he sways his hips ever so slightly. He knows exactly what’s running through your mind as you drink up his delectable figure. 

You cough and bring your gaze back to his eyes, “Excuse me?” You stare at him, brow raised. You’re used to his antics by now, but this was a new one.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Just come inside, you dork.”

Then you’re wandering in the dim trailer where Eddie has set up a fold up table in the middle of the tiny living room. Two fold up chairs are pushed in on either side of the table.

Eddie leads you to the chair that faces away from the kitchen and pulls it out, saying, “Sit. Dinner will be out shortly.”

He disappears behind you. You hear him moving things around in the kitchen and it finally sets in what he’s trying to do. You smile and look down at your hands. There’s even a little candle on the table! Wait…that’s-- that’s a stick of butter that Eddie stuck a rolled up toilet paper wick in on a plate. You’re taken aback but still smitten at the effort.

A few seconds later, Eddie comes around with two bowls, setting one down in front of you and the other on his side of the table.

“From our esteemed Chef Campbell we have…chicken noodle soup.” You hold back a giggle when you see the familiar watery soup of your childhood, little pieces of chicken and vegetables floating along the surface. Eddie has lived in the trailer park with his uncle long enough that he knows how to get by when it comes to food. He has a taste for junk food, knows how to mix things together to make something that’s just edible enough. Your tastes must be a little more refined, he figures.

So he had pulled out some of the dried herbs and spices from the kitchen cabinet that never got used. Fuck, they’re so old that the expiration date has long since passed. Eddie just shrugged. That just means the flavor has faded a little, right? He’ll just have to use a little extra. 

Thyme? He’s got all the time in the world for it. Rosemary? Sounds nice. Oregano? Fuck yeah. Chef Campbell can make a mean soup, but Eddie is a wizard with seasonings.

When the spoon is in your mouth, you're hit with the flecks of flavor that don't quite make sense together. But Eddie looks at you with an anticipation that forces you to smile through the strange bite.

"It's good!" you chirp.

Eddie grins and holds his hands up, "What can I say? You've got a man who knows his way around a kitchen, princess."

No, I absolutely do not. 

But you laugh and take another spoonful of the soup. If this will make him happy, then you can suffer through the assault on your taste buds.

The next course is grilled cheese, though it's quite obvious that Eddie had burned the bread while cooking it. That's the one Eddie gets nervous about. With money being so tight, it had been a while since he or his uncle went grocery shopping. He only had so many pieces of bread left. He tried to keep an eye on them as they cooked. But it was just his luck that in the few minutes he took to rifle through the fridge, looking for a drink option, the kitchen became engulfed in the bitter charred stench. Hoping you would notice, he sprayed some artificial floral air freshener and scraped the burnt bits of bread off the side he'd overcooked.

You actually didn't mind the grilled cheese too much. Sure, it wasn't the prettiest sandwich to look at, but it tasted alright. The plastic cheese was overpowered by the toasted bread that tore at the roof of your mouth. Your throat overwhelmingly dry, you drank from the glass of liquid that Eddie poured out for you. Apple juice. Thank god. You could drink apple juice all day if it got the rancid aftertaste of the soup out of your mouth.

About an hour had passed since you'd first arrived. The butter candle had long since burned out, leaving you mostly in the dark. The sun was quickly disappearing from the view of the living room window and you wonder when the dinner will be over and the real fun part of the night will arrive. Being around Eddie was always fun. But nothing beats the feeling of his hands running over your thighs and up your shirt. And as the night gets later, you clench your thighs more and more, impatiently waiting for some sort of relief.

"Now, we have our dessert!" Eddie walks back into view. “This one is extra special.”

In both his hands is a plate. A sad, lumpy cake placed on top. You can tell that he must've ran into some sort of problem during the baking process.

Of course Eddie couldn't make a boring old box cake mix without it turning into a fiasco. The cake mix was old, but the frosting had been the only thing he’d splurged to get. What goes better with chocolate cake with chocolate frosting? He was no cake decorator and he was pretty sure he was supposed to let it cool before frosting it, but who cares? It was gonna taste damn delicious anyways.

“Wanna have the first slice?” He hands you a butter knife, excitement and obvious pride in his eyes. He looks almost like a little kid with his big brown eyes, waiting for you to praise him for the dinner’s grand finale.

But the top is sunken in. And you know exactly what that means. Still, you slice into the cake and grimace a little when the insides start to run from the piece you’ve removed.

"Um--" Eddie looks at you expectantly and you clear your throat, "Baby, it's a little...underdone..."

Eddie scrunches up his nose at the sight of the cut open cake, the inside oozing out, "You gotta be shitting me. I followed the directions exactly." If he hadn’t thrown the box away already, he’d be scanning the package, double checking that he’d added every ingredient. Maybe…maybe the weed had messed up the mixture somehow? He’d asked Reefer Rick if he had any good dessert recipes, but none of them involved a box cake mix…so he improvised.

He heated it up just like he was supposed to and added in just enough to get both of you high. Eddie had never baked a cake before, he had no clue what any of it was supposed to look like. Improvising didn’t seem like it was too good of an idea anymore.

"Fuck..." Eddie whispers under his breath. "At least the rest of the dinner was okay, right?"

You stare blankly for a second before replying, "Oh, yeah, totally!"

Finally, Eddie sees right through the mask. He isn’t even hurt that you lied to him. Hell, he couldn’t be mad at you even if he tried. He wasn’t even disappointed that he wasted some of his stash on a shitty recipe that didn’t work. He’s more upset that the night wasn’t going as he planned.

“Shit,” he sank down on the couch, leaning back and taking a deep breath. He wanted to do something nice for you. 

You pushed your chair back and went to sit beside him. Tucking your legs underneath you and resting your head on his shoulder, you place your hand over his veiny one. You turn it, feeling the calloused pads of his fingers intertwine with yours.

“I just wanted to give you a good night.” He mumbles.

“Aw, baby,” you coo, “You always give me a good night.” And god, the heat pooling between your legs is begging for another one. But his downcast expression makes some of your arousal subside.

He brushes away your reassurance, “You know what I mean. You deserve a guy that can give you all the fancy shit.”

His despondency shatters your heart, “I don’t need fancy shit. I just need you.” You slot your arm behind his back and fully embrace his body.

Eddie simmers in your words. He’d never been able to imagine a world in which he would actually matter. A guy like him doesn’t have much use as a cog in the machine. But there was some comfort in knowing that if he stuck to you, there was always a chance he’d have a place in the world.

You interrupt his daydreaming, “Besides, I have to give my compliments to the chef.”

"The chef did a terrible job.” He scoffs.

You drift one of your hands down the middle of his too tight shirt, taking special care to linger at his exposed midriff right above the buttons of his jeans, "The chef did the best he could. And I’m planning on leaving a really big tip."

Goosebumps enticingly prickle his skin where your hand teases him. Eddie’s belly rises and falls with suspense. He’s not quite sure what you’re planning in that sweet little head as he says, "Hopefully not just a tip?"

“Mmmmm,” a laugh rumbles from your throat, “You’re getting too greedy now.”

“I think I can afford it, princess.” He snickers before nuzzling his nose against yours and kissing you gingerly. His hand comes up to cup your cheek and you smile into the kiss like he’s just told you a secret.

No one else in Hawkins had a clue how tender your precious freak really was. So you’re glad you’re the only one who gets to see what he looks like from below as you situate yourself on the floor between his legs. Of course, Eddie handed you one of the throw pillows for you to rest your knees on.

It was suddenly becoming painfully obvious to him what you had in store.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Eddie asks, staring down at you through his dark lashes. You'd never used your mouth on him before. Though he’d dreamt of it, he'd never asked because he was too worried about making you feel disrespected. But he'd gone down on you plenty of times. If it felt that good when he was doing it to you, you could only imagine how the same thing would feel for him. So you nod quickly, already proceeding to unbuckle his jeans.

Eddie grabs your wrists before you can continue, "I need you to say it, princess." His gaze is pointed.

You shift on your knees a little, almost hesitant to say it out loud, "I-I wanna suck you off." You clear your throat so your voice doesn't sound as shaky, "Please, baby."

Eddie slowly releases his grip and rasps, "Good girl. Go ahead." He lifts his hips to help you get his bottoms off and tosses the jeans along with his boxers to the floor next to you. The sight of him has your mouth watering. It's nothing you haven't seen before; his thick cock is rigid, twitching, and just starting to swell red at the tip. But knowing it's going to be in your mouth is an entirely different matter. Your cunt aches and you have to stop yourself from reaching your fingers down to relieve the burn at your clit. Though you’ve been waiting all night to be touched, your mind is set on rewarding your boyfriend.

Eddie watches your expression carefully and tucks your hair behind your ear, "You see what your pretty little voice does to me?"

You look up at him again, seemingly surprised, "Really?" The power it gives you makes your heart swell in your chest.

"Yeah..." he trails off when he feels your breath tickle his bare thighs. "Wanna touch it?"

Without answering, you gently take him in your hand the way you'd seen him do it before. He sucks in a breath at your soft, delicate touch. Your fingers have a little trouble wrapping around his girth and he has to stifle a laugh at how innocent you are. You mimic the way you think he'd want it, grasp loose as you sloppily pump him.

Eddie can't help the little laugh that escapes him this time, "Here, princess, lemme show you how."

Just as you feel the embarrassment creep at your cheeks, Eddie takes your hand and spits on it. Then he tightens your hold so your fingers are almost touching. He puts his hand over yours, moving it up and down. As soon as he thinks you can follow his lukewarm pace, he lets go. You see the tension start to melt from his shoulders as he finally relaxes against the back of the couch with a deep moan. With the help of his spit, you go just a tiny bit faster, upping the ante just enough that he his eyelids flutter and his breathing gets faster

"I bet my mouth would feel a lot better," you mumble more to yourself. Before Eddie has a chance to object, your tongue is leaving a long, wet stripe up the side of his cock and ending with a flourish around the tip. You taste the musk of his skin and the slight saltiness of his leaking head.

"That feel good?" You ask sweetly. As if you hadn’t completely wrecked him right where he sat. He only wants more of that magnificent tongue.

"Fuck...yeah..." Eddie struggles a little bit to cum right then and there, "Jesus, princess, have you done this before?" You shake your head back and forth, wide eyed and pursing your lips.

Jesus fucking Christ, you're going to kill him. 

Eddie lets out an almost haunted breath of air, "Okay, you're gonna want to hollow your cheeks out. You just let me know if you wanna stop. I don't want to hurt you." 

Now it's your turn to laugh at him, "Eddie, you could never hurt me." You're looking a bit more confident in yourself when, again, you lick up the length of a vein on his cock. “I want you to use me.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t look this time, you take his tip into your mouth and sink your lips down all the way until you feel the end of him hitting your uvula.

You begin to panic when the instinct to gag kicks in. But you don't want to stop. You fight through the tears that form in the corner of your eyes and try to ignore the gag. Eddie feels your throat constrict around him and is caught between wanting to curse at the new wave of pleasure and wanting to pull you off of him immediately. His care for you wins that internal battle. But you push his hand away as it goes to relieve you from your struggle.

"Baby, you don't have to keep going." He manages to croak.

You shake your head slightly, trying to keep him in your mouth. You bring your hands to his thighs, caressing his skin in order to put him at ease. Your touch softens the tension in his muscles.

Eddie isn’t sure what to do with himself if he’s not worrying about you. He chooses to hold one of your hands and grip the other on the edge of the couch cushion. He allows himself to really feel your mouth. Your throat is impossibly smooth and slick with your spit. And warm. Possibly warmer than your cunt. He’s not too concerned about differentiating between the two sensations. His head is swimming in the pleasure you’re delivering as your cheeks hollow around him, just like he told you too. 

As you drag your lips along his length, Eddie’s thighs jolt almost involuntarily. You feel him fuck deeper into your throat and you take it in stride, working through the way the movement chokes you.

“Fuck— you’re so good for me, princess. Soooo goooood…” Obscenities fall from Eddie’s lips like they’re nothing. The suction your lips have formed around his cock has him feeling like he’s in the clouds, simply floating his way off into the distance. The only thing keeping him from losing himself is your hand clutching his and your nails digging little half moons into his thigh. That’s when he opens his eye. He nearly feels guilty at how the sight of you, almost choking on him as he fucks himself into your mouth, has him groaning. 

He wipes one of the tears away from your cheek and whispers, “So fucking beautiful…taking my cock…” a strangled sound vibrates deep from within your throat and it feels fantastic.

He almost can’t tell when he’s about to finish until the cord snaps almost entirely, getting ready to send him careening into an orgasm.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck, baby, I’m gonna—” his voice breaks and you feel his warm load shooting down your throat. He grips both of your hands now, keeping himself grounded; his hips threatening to spasm even more violently. His back arches against the back of the couch. He’s riding out the last waves of his peak. You begin to slip him out of your mouth, the final spurts of him dripping out onto your tongue as he goes limp.

You swallow every drop down and feel satisfied knowing his sticky spend coats the inside of your stomach instead of your cunt this time.

Eddie still feels like he’s flying. He can close his eyes and fall asleep if he really wants to. Seeing him fucked out and draped back on the couch makes you bite your lip and smile. His lips are parted, though nothing but his ragged breath leaves them.

“I hope I look that pretty after you go down on me.” You giggle, plopping down where you had sat beside him before.

With a shaky hand, Eddie runs a hand through his hair to clear the sweat that makes his locks stick to his forehead. “Nah, you’re waaaaay prettier.” His voice sounds far off like he’s still recovering.

“Alright for my first time, huh?” Eddie stares at you for a few seconds, mentally running through options for where he can go from here. 

He decides that you look too smug for your own good. You yelp as he sweeps you from your position and pins you on your back to the couch. You look at him, disoriented, with your brows pinched together.

Nestling himself between your legs now, Eddie chuckles darkly, "Oh, princess, that was just the first course."

[sp00kworm]

Hello, uh, I am the official demon inspector, I'm here to see if you have any demons that require, um, inspecting...

<fake mustache falls off>

Anyway, I'll happily read anything you'd like to write about Ollmoch. Maybe even a little steamy, if that suits you? :3

October Monster Requests 3/?

---

The Doorway

Ollmoch (Male Demon) x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Mild Suggestiveness, Fighting

---

Hands were always present when you were with Ollmoch. The demon was a portal keeper. A creature of gateways, and a guardian to those who drew the sword he was bound to. That had been you, nearly a year ago, and the demon was still present, holding to the pact that had been made between him and a family that was not yours. You held the sword at your side daily, the flat of the case patting against your thigh as you walked from one store to the next, ignoring the stares of the people around you. The oppressive weight of the sword was heavy enough, you didn’t need their gazes as they watched you move from isle to isle, taking the items you needed for dinner. It was dinner for you, but you had no doubts the demon bound to the blade at your side would demand his own portion, which he could not eat, nor digest.

“Uhm, excuse me?” An employee had been sent to confront you, and she stood at the end of the isle, peering at the broadsword at your side, “We don’t allow weapons in the store.”

“Weapons?” You held the scabbard out, “Its just a cosplay prop! I’m sorry I totally forgot! I’ve been at a get together and…”

She held out her hands, flustered, “Oh no, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realise.”

“No, it’s my fault. Here, I just want to pay for my groceries, then I’ll leave!” You promised as you dodged past her, ignoring the hands that were creeping from the blade to pull the biscuits from the shelves.

“Thank you!” You chirped before you heaved your bags with one hand, huffing at the energy that burned through your muscles, thanks to your helper. Ollmoch purred from within his own realm as you heaved the bags upwards with minimal effort and exited the store. You walked at a brisque pace away from the crowds before you reprimanded him.

“You can’t do that every time! I’m not incapable of looking after myself.” You hissed at the demon.

A phantom hand ghosted over each side of your neck, holding the skin in the two massive palms before the demon laughed, “No but you are my vessel. I can do what I like.” He stated before two other hands ghosted over your back and teased at your backside.

With a snort you clicked the hilt of the sword down correctly and smirked as he hissed and his hand disappeared, his connection with the human world severed with the fastening of the sword’s leather strap.

“Keep your hands to yourself, big guy.” You told the demon as you heaved your bags again, with a bit more effort this time, and headed along the canal back towards your home.

“Stop!” Ollmoch shouted at the entrance to the apartment complex, the blade growing warm by your side, pressing closer to your thigh, “JUMP!” he demanded and you did as you were told, dropping your shopping bags in favour of dodging the door as it slammed backwards into the hallway.

“What the fuck!” You cringed, winded, spit flying from your mouth as a creature slammed one massive arm into your stomach, sending you flying backwards towards the stair well. You banged into the metal hand railings with a cry before you managed to get a hold on your sword. The creature padded closer, a creature like a fish with a dog’s body, its whisker covered face opening to reveal a mouth full of sharp teeth, bog water and rotten flesh.

“Please, master. Let me play a little. You might die you know? This is a powerful familiar.” Ollmoch begged from the other realm as you heaved yourself to your feet with the sword, “I would love nothing more than to tear it open before you and then peel it’s master’s skin free to adorn your bedroom.”

With your moment’s hesitation, you were sent flying again, with a great slosh of vomit water from the monster. It stunk, and it burned at your new suit for work. You cried again and span quick enough this time to pull the strap off the blade and slide the sword free. The metal sang as it arced through the air in front of you. You held it steady as you looked at the beast in the eyes, breathing as deeply as you could before you spoke his name.

“Ollmoch, keeper of the realm gates!”

You held the blade steady as a great mass of purple energy ripped from the handle and burned over the surface, the runes over the sword glowing with ominous energy before a portal opened beneath your feet. You didn’t fall as the great demon laughed manically, his head and three pairs of horns bursting through the portal, ripping your bottoms as he wheeled himself upright, grabbing you with one set of hands, stroking at your soft skin, before his eyes rolled and fixed themselves on the creature in front of you both.

The chitinous plates of Ollmoch’s body were cold with the energy from the rift and you shivered against his chest as one hand cupped you to his hard pectoral. The spines on his back grew as he gritted his teeth and bared them for the creature.

“Now, now, what do we have here?” Ollmoch purred as he loomed over the familiar, “A beast attacking my master? We can’t have that.” He whispered before one claw shot forwards and the familiar was snatched between two small portals. They snapped around either end of the beast, holding it tight as Ollmoch walked closer, his steps thunderous as he approached its maw and tore open its mouth to look inside. You dared to snatch at the nails inside, tearing them away with the paper talismans from its mouth. It howled at you before Ollmoch took the papers in his other set of hands and clicked with his free hand. You leaned back as the portals snapped around the beast, tearing through its flesh, carving it open before they closed completely and consumed each half of the monster.

You let out a sigh of relief as Ollmoch’s golden eyes looked at the talismans, squinting at the runes before his second set of eyes rolled and caught sight of your staring.

“Are you impressed, master?” Ollmoch purred as he held you closer, rubbing his hard, pointed chin against your hair, humming happily before he rolled the talismans into a ball and placed them into his mouth, chewing the paper like sweet wrappers before he cringed and stuck out his tongue, where the flesh was burning and spat them away.

“Trappings.” He huffed with scorn, holding you close as he opened your apartment door and plonked you inside.

“Thank you.” You said as you clutched his sword close, “What are we going to do? Wait!” You rushed back to the door as Ollmoch drew open a portal next to your home, “You can’t just leave me here and…”

The demon ducked suddenly, grinning with a drooling mouth before he laughed, “Why, master? Will you miss me? Will you reward me if I bring you that pathetic sorcerer’s head?!”

“For goodness’ sake…” You lamented as the demon’s hands ghosted over your body again.

“Oh, how I long to worship you, my master, like a ruler on a throne of gold!” Ollmoch babbled as he petted at your warm skin.

“I’ll give you something.” You told him as you climbed his side and placed your feet firmly in the ridges of his chitin armour, “But only if we get this over before Orc Battles comes on the television!” You told him.

“I forgot about that!” Ollmoch lamented before he hugged you close and grinned manically, his horns poised forwards at the portal as you held the blade at your side, “Don’t worry, master! We will be back for that, and then you’ll sit on your new throne.” He purred as his fingers dipped up your shirt and stroked the sword’s brand at the base of your spine.

[andypantsx3]

statistically significant | 5 | bakugou/reader

length: 23,490 words | 7 chapters

summary: You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, m/f threats of violence, problematic behavior

The next few weeks were a blur of activity.

When he wasn’t off on patrol or a mission, Mina and Kaminari kept Bakugou busy with dozens of team exercises, all of which needed your analysis. They ran him through any and every scenario that entered their brains, and after the first few rounds, Bakugou seemed to resign himself to their ministrations, his explosions no longer rattling the windows of the training room in displeasure. You’d reviewed footage of the first couple of rounds all together, the trio of heroes jammed into the tiny surveillance room with you, grimy with the ashy residue of Bakugou’s explosions, someone or another’s shirt partly melted off, and all of them looking exhausted but pleased.

Eventually, though, it became difficult for you to spare time in between your meetings with the other agency heroes. Bakugou was not helping matters by kicking the door down in the middle of your meetings and attempting to bodily remove anyone you were in conversation with whenever he wanted an update. You were dedicating almost as much time to breaking up fights and rescheduling appointments as you were to having the actual meetings themselves.

In the interest of maintaining the peace--and health and safety the Miruko agency employees--you wrote a quick script that monitored the training room footage and automatically ran your analysis program any time it keyed in on Bakugou, Mina, and Kaminari together on screen. It forwarded the results to their phones so that Bakugou wouldn’t come stalking in and making any more enemies than he already had.

That seemed to pacify him for a couple of days, and you managed almost twenty blissful meetings uninterrupted, until a Friday morning when no sooner had you flipped the lights on in the surveillance room than Bakugou was ripping the door open after you.

“Enough slacking off, nerd,” he growled, stalking over to loom over you in a vaguely menacing manner. It was early but he looked wide awake, maybe a little mussed like he'd already been training, the same combination of annoyingly handsome and intimidating as always. He was also dressed in some variation of his usual training set, dark fabric clinging to his chest, arms bare. The sight was really way too much for this early in the morning.

His sudden entrance startled you out of a yawn, and you just barely managed to catch your laptop before it slipped through your fingers.

“Good morning?” you hedged, looking up at him in apprehension.

He made an angry, dismissive noise. Before you could dredge up enough energy for a proper eye roll, something small and warm was thrust unceremoniously into your chest, briefly winding you.

You looked down at the item he was attempting to fracture your sternum with and found yourself staring at a white takeout cup.

You looked up at him in confusion but he just glared passively until you looked down again.

“....what is this?” you asked. Your hands raised automatically to take the cup from him.

“Battery acid,” Bakugou said.

You stopped, gaping at him, and he rolled his eyes. “The fuck do you think it is, idiot?” he demanded, gesturing at it forcefully.

You looked down at the cup again, a soft swirl of steam issuing from the opening in the cap. You brought it hesitantly to your face. A cursory sniff revealed very little in the way of poison--not that you had much expertise on the subject--but it did smell suspiciously like the house blend from the nice bakery down the street.

You stared at Bakugou with misgiving. “What is this, actually?”

He made a disbelieving noise. “You spend all this time acting like such a smartass and you don’t even know what a fucking coffee is? The fuck do you think you drink every morning?”

You couldn’t help but stare at him. There was absolutely no way Bakugou Katsuki was bringing you coffee. This had to be some kind of trick.

His threats from a few weeks ago floated to the forefront of your mind. I’m going to win the bet, he’d said, and then you’re in for it. Was this part of "in for it"? What was “it”, exactly, and was it likely that “it” entailed poisoning you in broad daylight in the middle of a hero agency?

The offing you in broad daylight seemed very much his style, but poison seemed a roundabout way to do it. No, if he was going to settle a score with you, it was going to be something much more immediate, and probably obnoxiously flashy.

You brought the cup to your mouth, taking a tentative sip. No acid tang of poison met your tongue, only the rich, buttery taste of the coffee. Though arsenic was said to be flavorless... Damn that was good, though.

Bakugou hovered impatiently, like he was waiting for something, wearing a strangely blank expression. You watched him nervously. Was the poison slow acting or something?

His scarlet gaze locked onto yours, and it suddenly hit you what he must be doing. You almost dropped the coffee. Was he...waiting for a thank you? As in, he was aware of and actively acknowledging that he’d just done something for you?

You decided to test the waters. “Thank you, Bakugou.”

He made an impatient clicking noise. “Fucking took you long enough.”

You frantically schooled your features into a mask that betrayed nothing of your shock. Christ, he was serious. He’d actually brought you a coffee, and he knew it was a nice thing to do? There was no way he was doing this just to do this. He had to want something from you.

“...So, what is it that you’re bribing me for?” you asked.

Bakugou’s face went dark, the tips of his ears strangely pink. “Fuck you. I don’t need to fucking bribe you for shit, with your obvious little crush on me.” He took a threatening step closer, and that familiar scent of gunpowder and caramel filled your nose.

You felt your face heat, your heart jumping into your mouth. Not this shit again.

So, it was absolutely true that you had a lot of trouble detaching your eyes from the width of his biceps, and that your brain ran wild loops every time he was close. But just because you had difficulty looking anywhere else when he was in a room, didn't mean you had a crush on him. He was way too much of a brat and it was exhausting trying to keep up with his weirdly intense personality. Just because he was pretty did not mean you had a thing for him...

“Why are you like this?” you complained, edging away from him as he moved nearer.

He smirked knowingly, taking another step closer. A small, traitorous shiver went up your spine at the thrill of a man so close. To your eternal embarrassment, Bakugou’s keen gaze seemed to catch it, a darker smile curling his mouth.

You opened your mouth to make some kind of excuse--though what you would have come up with was completely beyond you--when a head of wild pink curls poked itself through the door.

The intruder let out a quiet gasp, but that was enough to break the moment. Bakugou whirled on her, red eyes glaring.

“Raccoon, do you ever mind your own fucking business?” he demanded, in the tones of someone interrogating a war criminal.

Mina’s dark eyes widened innocently. “What? How was I supposed to know this is where you’d gone?” she asked. There was note of something gloating in her voice, however, and you got the feeling that she’d been hoping to catch you in some kind of act.

Your face went hotter. Why did everyone think there was a thing with you and Bakugou, including, apparently, Bakugou?

“Anyway, I’m not here for you,” Mina informed him briskly, derailing your wandering train of thought. “I was gonna ask stats girl to give us a hand this morning.”

She turned to you, her smile slightly predatory. “Blasty’s better at sticking close now, so we started focusing team exercises on victim evaluation. Any chance you can play civilian? Denki was for a bit but he started getting too into it.” A grimace flitted over her pretty features. “I almost lost an arm trying to stop Katsuki from blasting him clear into the stratosphere.”

You looked at Bakugou, but an irritated twitch of a blonde eyebrow was all you got by way of an explanation.

Your thoughts turned inward, wondering if this was a good idea. You’d been hoping to use the morning to get a little work done on a prototype of a productionized model, seeing as you had fewer meetings than usual today. And you hadn’t really come prepared for a potential roll around in the dirt and dust of the city simulation training spaces.

As if sensing your hesitation, Mina chirped, “I’ll let you a spare set of my training clothes so yours don’t get dirty! And you would probably be saving Denki’s life here--don’t you owe him one from the Hero Awards?”

Your gaze cut back to Bakugou without any direction from your brain. Bakugou appeared to be making no attempt to look apologetic about the incident at the Awards. He raised an eyebrow in challenge when your look lingered too long for his liking, red eyes narrowing in on you with a sudden heat. “The fuck are you looking at, nerd?”

“He means please,” Mina said, her voice going honeyed and wheedling. “Plus, it will be fun! I promise you I won’t melt any of your body parts off. Just Blasty’s, I swear.”

You couldn’t help the way your eyes stayed firmly attached to Bakugou’s face. His mouth twitched in obvious irritation at the implication that he would ever say please, but he made no move to correct Mina, limbs drawn in tight, defensive.

You looked down at the cup in your hand, sighing. He’d brought you a coffee and was doing minimal yelling. He appeared to be making some kind of effort here--though to what end you weren’t sure--and you supposed contributing to his training was ultimately your goal here, anyway. You could reward him for behaving himself as well as he knew how, and work towards your promotion at the same time.

“Fine,” you allowed, watching as Mina startled wiggling in obvious delight. “Let me finish this coffee and then I’ll help out.”

Mina clapped her rosy palms together. “Ahh! This is going to be so fun! You’ll see.”

Mina’s definition of fun was any civilian’s definition of fucking terrifying.

It was one thing to see the three heroes using their powers on screen, or safely tucked away behind a meter of quirk-enforced glass. It was another thing entirely to be in the center of the action, acid sizzling mere inches from your feet.

“You said you wouldn’t melt anything off!” you shouted, stumbling away from Mina.

She’d accused Kaminari of getting too into playing civilian--whatever that meant--but you thought she was way too into playing villain herself. A hard look passed over her pretty features, sending a chill down your spine. With that dark look, those unusual eyes and twisted horns took on a more sinister nuance. She looked almost like an alien, and moved like one too, stalking you through the twisting alleys of the training cityscape.

“Accidents happen,” she cooed, almost happily. She threw up a twisting fistful of acid that hardened into a warped wall in front of you. You skidded wildly on the gravel to avoid it. “Now stay still, you’re supposed to be a hostage.”

A choked little noise escaped you. Honestly, thank god this woman was a hero. You might have trouble sleeping at night if you knew a villain like this was stalking the streets, unchecked and unbound by social mores. You’d probably still have trouble getting to sleep tonight, even after she went back to smiling and bouncing all over the place.

“Actually, maybe Kaminari should take over again,” you managed, stepping back from her. “Not really sure if I’m cut out for this.”

A loud boom drowned out her reply, an office front a few blocks away crumbling under the force of the blast. You gaped at the force that shook the street, even blocks away.

Mina used your distraction to her advantage, grabbing the back of your shirt to haul you towards her. “He’s so obvious, my god--how he got to be number eight is beyond me. Now come over here and do your best to look injured. He needs practice evacuating people instead of coming in blasting.”

She fumbled with something on her belt, pulling out several bright red bands that proclaimed various types of injuries in blocky white font. Then she leaned over you, shoving a band up your arm that announced SEVERE BURNS, and another on your left ankle, proclaiming a DISLOCATION.

She clicked her tongue, looking you over. “Would more be overkill? This is enough that he should at least hesitate before trying to blow me sky high…” She seemed to decide against more, shoving the rest back into her belt. Then she gently pressed you down to the ground at her feet.

“This is the part where I get to monologue,” she said, winking down at you. “Do your best to look helpless and make sure your severe burns thing is showing. I wanna see if he can prioritize rescuing you over my trash talk.”

A soft groan escaped you. Fat chance. Bakugou was the most foul tempered little shit you had ever met, and while it was true that his single-minded focus on winning the bet meant he was tolerant enough to be doing this exercise in the first place, you highly doubted he was going to hesitate if Mina was pushing his buttons as expertly as she usually did.

The chance to find out came soon enough. There was a strangled kind of yelp and a crackle of lightning followed a thunderous boom a few blocks away as Bakugou presumably rendered Kaminari’s perimeter defense useless. Then with another screaming explosion, he was rocketing over the buildings separating you, barrelling straight down on Mina.

Mina threw up another acid shield that hardened into a defensive wall. Bakugou’s first attack cracked it but didn’t manage to penetrate. There was barely a breath between the cracking and another explosion, however, and then the wall exploded inwards in a crackling shower of fizzing pieces. Mina crouched over you, breathing excitedly, “This is the fun part!”

Whatever reply you might have given her was drowned out by an angry series of hissing snaps from Bakugou’s palm as he stalked closer to you. The right half of his shirt had been singed off by lightning, it looked like, and a fine veneer of dust layered in his hair and on patches of his skin. It was just a training simulation, but he looked half-wild, teeth bared and eyes bright over the ash on his face. If he looked nearly this intense in real life situations, it was a wonder that anyone would agree to be evacuated by him at all.

Maybe that’s why he sucked at rescues.

“It’s fucking over, raccoon eyes,” he said. “Hand her over.”

Mina laughed, a delicate sound like bells. “Not another step closer, hero, or I’ll melt a hole straight through her pretty neck.”

You twitched away from her minutely. God she was terrifying.

“Quit it with the fucking villain act, fuckwad, or I’ll blow you all the way to hell,” Bakugou growled.

Mina reached for your arm, pulling you up next to her. “Hmm, then I hope your aim is good. She’s already got one set of severe burns.”

Bakugou’s crimson gaze cut down to your shoulder and the displeased twist to his mouth deepened. “Fucking--of course you got yourself fucking injured. Fucking idiot.”

“Hey,” you protested, shifting against the band. “I’m not actually.”

Mina kicked you. “Moments to live, this one. Unless you can pull a healing quirk out of those glorious buttcheeks of yours.”

You choked on your own spit while Bakugou snarled. “I’m gonna fucking remember this, you strawberry fuck.”

“Maybe. But she won’t,” Mina said, and suddenly there was a rosy palm in front of your face, dripping acid. A drop landed deliberately on the fold of the training pants she’d lent you, searing straight through with a loud hiss. Your heartbeat spiked in violent alarm. You reeled back, but Mina was still crouched over you, and you banged into her collarbone.

In the next second, everything went to shit. Something searing hot blazed just over your shoulder and Mina swore, jerking back from you in the blink of an eye. There was a deafening crack and a rush of burning air over you as Bakugou let loose an explosion at the same time he seized your ankle and pulled you straight underneath where he’d aimed the blast, missing you by inches.

“What the fuck,” you gasped. Bakugou grunted, and yanked harder, pulling you straight to him.

“Quit being such a fucking princess,” he growled, shifting an arm underneath you. You froze, suddenly wishing that his explosion had managed to hit you, searing off every nerve ending.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, sputtering in alarm when he hoisted you against him. You could feel every place your body touched his, and smell the sharp gunpowder and sugar scent of his sweat. He hooked his arm firmly around your waist, glaring down at you with one baleful red eye.

“Fuckstick gave you a dislocated ankle so I would have to fight her off with one fucking arm and carry you with the other,” he bit out, whirling when a stream of acid came hissing your way.

You gripped at his shirt, swearing. “Oh my god. What the hell is she doing, aiming for me? This is a simulation! Also, I can walk.”

He grunted. “You can shut the fuck up is what you can do.”

He executed another agile dodge, pulling you with him. “Now hold on, princess, this is gonna be a rough ride with one arm.”

You didn’t have time to ask him what the hell he was on about. He aimed a shot over your shoulder, the heat simmering and boiling in the air next to your ear, and you heard the impact of Mina hitting the pavement behind you. In the next second, Bakugou tightened his arm around you, and aimed a palm for the ground.

The next thing you were aware of was a strangled screaming sound. It took a second for you to realize the mortifying noise was coming from you. But in your defense, Bakugou had literally blasted the two of you clear above the alleyway. You could see the wreckage from Bakugou’s scuffle with Kaminari, and Mina scrambling to her feet, much smaller and further away that you were comfortable with. Your hands fisted in his shirt and you nearly decapitated him with the force with which you shoved your face into his shoulder.

Even with your eyes closed, you could tell Bakugou hadn’t been kidding about the rough ride. Another blast from his palm jerked you sharply to the right, and he uttered a soft swear.

“Hold tight, nerd,” he said in your ear. There was a series of more explosions and you spun violently in the opposite direction. You went careening over a low roof top to land heavily on the pavement, Bakugou twisting at the last second to take the initial impact to his shoulder, rolling over you to distribute the momentum.

You rolled twice more, eventually stopping with his hard body under yours, your face jammed unpleasantly into his shoulder, his arms bracketing your sides. One of his hands was fisted in the back of your shirt, and a tuft of blonde hair brushed your cheek.

He let out a huff. “If you ever let her put the fucking dislocation band on you again, I’ll melt your damn laptop.”

You pulled back from him, hissing into his face. “If you dare, I'll--”

“The fuck you gonna do, nerd?” he demanded, sitting up. Straight into you.

You gripped his shirt so as not to fall right off of him, widening your knees for balance. Then you froze when you realized he was pressed against you everywhere, hard muscle and the heat of his skin bleeding through your training clothes. He was hot like a furnace, ashy and dust-streaked like one too, and his eyes glowed like banked coals. He gazed back at you, his mouth setting with some kind of a challenge.

Then those red eyes trailed slowly and deliberately down your face, stopping right on your mouth. His fingers tightened in the back of your shirt.

You couldn’t help your sharp inhale. Holy shit, was he...going to kiss you?

You sat frozen, locked in place, neither willing or able to move away, like you were being pulled towards him like some kind of magnet. Was he really going to do it? Was he really going to kiss you? Or, no...were you going to kiss him?

You could, you thought hysterically. That’s what it felt like, watching him breathe shallowly, eyes fixed on your mouth. You could kiss him and he would let you.

Had that been what all the your little crush on me shit had been about? Had he been torturing you not because he’d noted the way your eyes lingered over him, but because it was something he’d wanted to happen? Had that been what all the threats were for, what the crowding you against walls and the frigging coffee had been about? When Mina had said he’d been fixated on you, did she actually mean it less like revenge and more like actual attraction?

You let out a shaky breath. Only one way to find out, you thought wildly, leaning forward with your pulse singing in your veins.

And then an explosion rocked the foundations of the building, throwing you forward against Bakugou’s chest. You gasped, the breath knocked out of you, and whipped around to glare at his free hand in accusation. Bakugou pulled you back, however, a hard looking passing over his face.

It was only seconds before Mina and Kaminari came scrambling out of the maze of training buildings, looking worried. Kaminari was already crackling with static, agitated whips of lighting zipping across his skin. Bakugou's palm started to grow hotter against your back.

His next words threw the situation into sharp clarity.

“That wasn’t from a training room.”

[animedaddymilkers]

Kinkmas 2020: Day Eight

Prompt: Breeding w/ Jiraiya

Genre: Smut/18+ || Tags: Breeding, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Slight Impregnation, Sex Worker, Mutual Pining, Oral, Fingering || Characters: Jiraiya, Female Reader || read it on ao3 here

Three hours, three agonizing hours until your favorite client checked in. Three hours filled with you anxiously doing your makeup and little odds and ends to make sure your appearance was as enticing as possible. It wasn't usually like you to go all out for customers, but this particular one was special. Not to mention he was also your highest paying one. Andddd you may have caught some stupid, school-girl crush for him. Though you wouldn't dare say anything to his face, or to anyone for that matter. It wasn't worth risking your best client. Being a sex worker was hard enough as it was.

Jiraiya was a different breed of man, probably a different breed of human if you were being totally honest. He was so suave and smooth, yet put on a sleazy front, driving away most of the civilian women. You had your suspicions that he did that on purpose, but it wasn't your place to pry. He definitely attracted all the women who worked in similar professions as you, that was for sure. Even though he was known to be a cheapskate, drunk, and always tried to get more than he paid for, he wasn't like that with you. You heard once he found a favorite he was the exact opposite of his reputation and now you were living through just that.

The white-haired man appeared in the doorway of your designated hotel room, a bright smile on his face. This time the room had to be the presidential suite, it was comparable to a whole ass apartment for Kami's sake. After hearing the hotel door open you scurried out of the ridiculously large bathroom, your heels clicking along the marble floor to greet your client. His roaring laugh filled the room as he watched your delicate appearance not-so-delicately enter the room.

"Well, look at you! Shit, darling, you look amazing today. You're going to kill an old man like me," his cherry tone made you smile and you stopped in front of him.

"Oh please, you're harder to kill than that! So, what were you thinking today?" Your hands trailed up his still clothed chest, taking in the feel of the muscles you knew laid underneath.

Jiraiya's hands went to your waist, thumbs running over the lingerie you donned," Always so straight to the point, aren't you? Always loved that about ya. Anyways, thought maybe today we could just do something… soft? Just got back from a rough mission and could use some soft lovin'."

"Oh, yeah definitely! I can be whatever you need, handsome," you leaned up and kissed his cheek, using the other hand to caress the opposite cheek.

If he wanted soft, soft was what he was going to get. He knew it was dangerous to request sexual favors that included gentle actions from you. He knew your soft touches would fan the ache in his heart, but he couldn't help it. Maybe somewhere inside of him he just wanted an excuse to hold you close and "accidentally" let some sweet nothings be whispered in your ear. Your lips came together much slower than they usually do, gently pressing together as your eyes closed. His large hands rubbed your hips, fingers kneading into your soft flesh as he easily lifted you from the floor. As if from muscle memory alone, your legs wrapped around his waist as much as they could, happily clinging onto his built figure. The oversized king bed came too soon, your back meeting the plush sheets as Jiraiya's kisses began to trail down your jaw. His lips were warm and harsh against your skin but far from unwelcome. You knew what was coming but you still gasped quietly the first time he sucked the skin of your neck into his mouth.

"You drive me wild," his voice was low and rumbled against your throat, sending a shiver down your spine.

His hands wandered from your hips to your chest, playing with your boobs through the thin bra you wore. One of Jiraiya's favorite things was to leave love marks on you, all over you to be exact. Usually, you wouldn't allow it, marking up the merchandise and all. But for him, it was worth it. Not only did he pay more than enough to mark you, but you always felt almost proud to wear his hickeys on your neck and body after a session with him. It definitely helped you pretend you were truly his until they faded that is. Then you'd just have to wait until Jiraiya's name showed up on your booking schedule again. Though unbeknownst to you, your customer felt quite the same about the love marks. He knew very well he was lucky you allowed him to leave them and he'd be lying if he said he didn't go into the village the next day just to get a glimpse of you proudly displaying what he left you.

You tried not to rush things, going at whatever pace he set for the session, but it was hard not to get slightly greedy with such a mountain of man within your grasp. Thankfully, your partner picked up on your gathering impatience and began to slowly unwrap you from the lingerie you had on. The action wasn't empty of affection, quite the opposite. Each time he revealed more skin, his fingers lingered, his touch warm and gentle against you. Once you were naked it was more obvious how overdressed he was. So, you set about fixing that fact. His layers were peeled off one by one until he was left in his mesh shirt and underwear. This part, you loved to lay back and watch as he slowly stripped the rest, his shirt pulling up and revealing more of his abs and toned chest. Ugh, Kami, he was so hot for an older man. So many of your clients were tolerable at best, but Jiraiya? Quite literally the definition of 'you'd let him hit it for free'. But again, you had rent to pay.

Once you were both naked came the part where you two adored the other's body, not a usual part of your rendezvous but he wanted softness today. His rough fingers played with your nipples, shit-eating grin spreading across his face as you moaned and whined when he tugged them. Meanwhile, your hands roamed over every inch of him that you could reach, which currently only entailed his shoulders, head, and top of his chest. But that was enough for you to reach down and play with his nipples in return. The way his face reddened with blush almost made you giggle, but he twisted yours teasingly to get back at you. Jiraiya could seriously tease you for hours on end if it were any other day than today. Today, he had other plans, he needed emotional sex but he also needed it sooner rather than later.

His fingers were tracing along your slit, gathering up some of your wetness to spread it around more. He lazily rubbed at your clit as he kissed you, teeth nipping at your lips just lightly enough to make it hurt but not draw blood. It was a bit dizzying to have a man above you who could so easily kill you with minimal effort, yet each of his movements was filled with nothing but adoration. Part of you hated how tender he was with you every session and the other part that was head over heels in love begged him to continue. Your hips ground down against him, a whine falling out of your mouth before you could even help it. He exhaled a quiet laugh at your desperate reaction and did it again, only slightly harder this time. Teasing was a given when it came to Jiraiya unless he was really drunk. But hell, this time you were almost sure he was completely sober. It really must have been a rough mission if he didn't stop at the bar first. The thought made you want to stop him and give him all the extra attention in the world. The only thing stopping you was your business professional side. It'd just be too much, too risky to make a move like that. You'd be able to pamper him in due time and then it wouldn't seem out of place.

In the meantime, Jiraiya finally slid a thick finger inside of you, probing your insides like he was trying to test something out. His tongue stuck out slightly, caught between his teeth with a determined look on his face. If there wasn't a finger curling inside of your pussy you would have laughed at the expression. He pumped it in and out slowly, gently prodding for your g-spot. As he explored your insides he slipped another finger in, taking care to slowly stretch you out for him. He leaned his head down and let his tongue join in on the party, pressing it flat against your clit. Your head fell back against the bed as your fingers tangled into his expanse of lush, white hair, tugging gently to try and get more out of his mouth. He grinned against your thigh, a third, thick finger pushing into you. The stretch was now slightly uncomfortable, but you both slightly knew you had to endure it, or else the main event wasn't going to be as enjoyable. And Jiraiya always wanted you to enjoy it. Truly, he was the best client you ever had and it wasn't fair that this was just no strings attached business.

His tongue circled your clit before his teeth grazed your bundle of nerves, sending a shiver down your spine. Then he started a session routine, spelling out his name against your clit with his tongue. Again, you wish you could laugh during the cheesy action but it felt too damn good. The low rumble of his voice against you had your hips grinding down against his fingers. His fingers which still thrust in and out of you, changing positions and angles every now and then, intent on finding your g-spot. When his fingers finally made you gasp, he grinned devilishly and your grip tightened in his hair, knowing you were in for a ride now. Once they zeroed in on their target his fingers barely changed angles, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot. His mouth wrapped around your clit, sucking gently as his other hand slid down to your other hole. At first, he just teased, swirling his pointer finger around the puckered hole before using some of your pussy juice to slowly push in. The pressure from the extra finger had you gasping out his name, the assault on your other private parts far from ending. Your legs defied your intent to hold out longer and began to shake, the warm spasm in your lower stomach fast approaching.

"Fuck! Oh Kami, Jiraiya! Fuck I'm cumming!" cuss words continued to fall from your lips between moans as you came on his face.

Your juices properly soaked his stubble-covered jaw, more proof he didn't even bother going home before seeing you. As your legs spasmed he kept sucking your clit, welcoming the feeling of your plush thighs wrapping tightly around his head. A good three minutes later he finally let you have some reprieve, removing his face and hands from his body. Your eyes met his gleaming ones as he brought one hand to his mouth, sucking his fingers off. The skilled tongue that made you fall apart, swirled around his fingers, intent not to waste a single drop of your sweet juice. He had little to no reservations when it came to sex, happily sliding his finger from your other hole into his mouth, sucking it off just as he did the others. Next time you just might have to ask him to use his mouth on your ass… but for now, it was your turn to get your mouth busy.

Jiraiya had other thoughts, leaning up to kiss you again and slowly grind his hips against yours. He kissed you for a while, savoring the taste of your mouth, and went to line himself up at your entrance before you stopped him. Concerned, he looked up at you and was about to ask if something was wrong before you gently pushed to flip him over. Now with a look of understanding he chuckled softly and laid back against the pillows, arms tucked behind his head. Hair sprawled around him and arms flexed he looked like a true Adonis before you, even including the brutal scar on his chest. If anything, the scar just made him more god-like. It was a testament to what he did for a living, how self-sacrificing he was. There was only one thing that could make the view better: a lower perspective.

Your hands rubbed against his skin, just taking in the feel of it. The feel of his scars, the feel of the tensing muscles beneath, the intoxicating feel of his pulse beating beneath your fingers. You grinned as you brushed your fingertips along his pelvis, savoring in the shiver he always gave you. His hips were so sensitive it was almost cute. You leaned forward and kissed a trail down his abs, leaving little love bites along the way. Time didn't mean anything right now, so you took as long as you wanted, paying extra attention to leave darker marks along his hips and purposely avoiding where he wanted your touch most. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, trying not to think too hard about the sweet ways you touched him. Oftentimes, he had to remind himself that these affections from you were bought, if he hadn't bought this time with you, you wouldn't be here. The kisses and marks you left all over his body were just for sexy times. The gentle way you admired his body was just to keep him coming back, to keep him thinking you cared for him on a personal level. Damn, his thoughts got carried away again. He couldn't help but think of what waking up next to you would be like, you smiling-

His eyes flew open and he groaned as you licked up his cock. The grin you had on your face made him groan again, damn your sinful actions. Your lips wrapped around him and he locked eyes with yours as you slowly sank your mouth down his length. The gleam in your eyes drove him wild, watching as you took him inch by inch, careful not to gag. That is, until he gave you a cocky little thrust of his hips. You gagged and choked at the unanticipated movement, taking your mouth off of him, your hand relaxing it.

"You bastard! You ruined my rhythm!"

Jiraiya chuckled before grinning, "Oh but you sound so cute gagging on my cock, darling!"

His happy go lucky tone laced his words, making you roll your eyes as you pumped him. Taking a deep breath you wrapped your mouth around him again, determined to make it all the way down him this time. You knew he'd thrust again, but now you were expecting it and you were able to relax your throat more, grinning around his cock when you didn't gag. Jiraiya only grinned, proud that you caught onto his little game and resorted to letting you have the reins again. One of his large hands reached down, gathering your hair from out of your face to help you and so he could see better. Your head finally met the coarse white curls at the base of his cock and you held yourself there for a few moments. You swallowed a couple of times just to hear the man beneath you moan before you slowly began to slide back up, swirling your tongue around his tip. Kami, his face looked so good with the blush dusting his cheeks and chest. You'd give him all his money back just to have this view all to yourself. Still, you had the power to make him fall apart even more and you had every intention to do just that.

Again, your mouth surrounded him and you went down his length quicker this time, although you didn't go down all the way. Your rhythm took a few tries to perfect but you finally found it. Hollowing out your cheeks a bit you bobbed your head on his cock, twisting slightly as you went up and down. For a bit of cock you didn't force your mouth to go down on, your hand picked up the slack, rubbing around it while your mouth worked. Jiraiya's other hand came down to join his first in your hair and when your eyes met his he groaned. You looked so good when you were desperate to please him. He was comfortable enough with you now that he didn't even think of holding back all of his noises, even if they were the high pitched whines he let out when you played with his balls. Or the gasps when you gave him a taste of his own medicine and pushed a finger into his asshole. His hips twitched at the sudden pressure and he almost comically began to fall apart beneath you.

He panted and moaned, thighs tensing when you pushed another finger into him, "Damn it, fuck, (Y/N)... Darling please…"

You moaned around his cock before popping his cock out of your mouth, pumping it with your hand, "Mmm, what is it dear?"

His face was beet red and his chest near heaving, "Don't wanna cum like this…"

"Ah, that's right, I forgot geezers like you can only go so long." you grinned at him and let his cock free.

If it had been any other client, you wouldn't dare speak to them like that, but for Jiraiya, it only fired him up more. He smirked back at you and easily leaned down, lifting your body from between his legs. Before you could comprehend you were on all fours, ass properly displayed for the man behind you. His hands spread across your rear and massaged your ass before spreading your cheeks. The tip of his cock pressed at your entrance and you whined, trying to push yourself back onto him. He laughed at your desperation but still obliged, pushing into you slowly. Kami, he filled you so well, dragging along your walls perfectly. He didn't stop until his hips met yours, pushing his pelvis into your ass, staying there for a long moment. With a grin, he ground his hips against yours before pulling out almost all the way and then slamming back in.

It made you gasp and grab at the sheets for balance, the pace was both torture and pleasure. His hands gripped your hips, no doubt going to leave bruises as he continued fucking you. After a few minutes, he finally sped up, his cock hitting against your deepest parts. He leaned over your back and pressed kisses into your shoulders before trailing up your neck. His hot breath against your skin was enough to drive you wild and mixed with his groans you felt tingles fire through your body from your ears straight to your pussy. Your whines egged him on and he once again sped up, fucking into you with vigor now. The lewd sounds of your skin slapping together was like music and only sounded better accompanied by the noises you both were making. One of his hands slid from your hip and a thick finger rubbed at your clit, the extra stimulation making you groan and bury your face deeper into the blanket beneath you. You could feel your thighs shake, threatening to give out as your pussy clenched around his cock. Your cum properly wet his cock more and a bit of his thighs too, but that wasn't going to stop him.

Jiraiya fucked you through your orgasm, slowing as you came down before he roughly flipped you over onto your back, taking in your post-orgasm face, "You look so gorgeous like this darling. I could stare at you for hours."

His voice was deep and you sighed softly at his words, legs opening wide so he could slide back inside of you. Gently, he took your legs and pushed your knees towards your chest, leaving some room so he could lean down between them and kiss you. The position let his cock slide in deeper and you moaned feeling him hit your cervix. "Kami, Jiraiya, just fuck me already, I want your cum!"

He smirked and thrust roughly, making the breath catch in your throat, "You want my cum, pretty girl? You want me to fuck my baby into you?"

The words weren't supposed to come out. Not like that. But he always was a sucker for dirty talk so he wasn't really surprised with himself. You, on the other hand, were slightly shocked. Or at least you would have been if you weren't so horny. His words made you moan at the thought and you knew you wouldn't be satisfied until you felt his cum inside of you now. He did prefer to go in raw, but every time before this he had no qualms about pulling out. Briefly, you wondered what changed and if maybe it was all talk, but regardless, you couldn't help but lose all inhibitions at the thought of feeling his cum inside of you.

"Yes! Fuck your baby into me! Fill me up, Jiraiya, I want everyone to know what you've done to me!"

He growled and pushed your legs closer to your body as he nearly laid down on top of you. The heaviness of him added an extra warmth of protection, bringing you two closer physically and a bit emotionally as well. Now, you were so close you could lean up and kiss him, his hot breath on your lips, his intoxicating smell filling your nose while his hips quickly thrust in and out of you. Cuss words and praises fell from his lips, muffled by your skin as he fucked you harder, barely holding back at all. It was appropriate that he had you positioned in the mating press, adding to the feeling of the moment. You let yourself get absorbed in the fantasy, pretending he was saying those words under different circumstances, that he really meant what he said.

"Fuck I'm so close," he growled and his arms wrapped around your back, holding you closer, "You ready for it, darling? Let me hear you. C'mon."

As if you really needed any more convincing, you let it out, legs once again starting to shake as they wrapped around him, "Please, please, give me your cum. Oh, Kami~"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Being forced to be mine, huh? You want to be my little breeding slut?"

"Yes, yes yes! Make me yours!" Your high pitched whines sent him into a frenzy and he roughly began to rub your clit again.

You were already over sensitive so when you felt him bury himself to the hilt inside of you, you let yourself go. He groaned your name as you could feel his hot cum fill you up, your pussy spasming around him. Part of you couldn't believe he actually just came inside, though the majority of your lust clouded brain was absolutely satisfied that he did. You panted hard and was thankful as he helped stretch your cramping legs. He himself was breathing hard in the crook of your neck. Your arms wrapping around his neck as you played with his hair before he began to slowly pull away. His eyes locked with yours as he sat back on his feet, soft cock slipping out of you. When he did his eyes wandered down, watching as his cum slowly dripped out of your hole. But he gathered the drips onto his fingers and pushed it back into you.

"You're going to look so cute, big and round with my baby."

The words shook you from the bliss and you looked up at the white-haired man. The full possible repercussions of your actions crashed down onto you. Before you could voice any concerns, Jiraiya sighed and leaned down, putting his head in the crook of your neck again before filling the quiet of the room.

"I shouldn't have done that."

"I wanted it too."

"Did you really? Or just because I pay you to want it." his voice was gravelly and almost laced with guilt.

You had to say, you've seen Jiraiya through many post-orgasm moods, but this one full of something akin to regret was new, "No. I really wanted it. And… If it happens, then I'll happily welcome it."

He didn't lift his head, he didn't think he could even if he wanted to. Instead, he only held you tighter and finally let himself embrace his feelings for you, "I love you. I don't care about your line of work. I don't care how much I have to pay. Just…let me see you more?"

The breath you didn't know you were holding was exhaled and you looked down at him, "Jiraiya…"

"You don't have to like me back. I'd understand. I just couldn't keep it to myself any longer. (Y/N), you're the only thing keeping me returning to this village."

He looked almost scared as he confessed his feelings, his hands stroking over your skin, eyes avoiding yours, "Jiraiya, I love you too…"

Quickly his eyes snapped up to finally meet yours, his heart felt like it skipped a beat. It took him a minute to fully comprehend your words before he pressed his lips to yours again. The rest of the day was spent together, telling the other all the things you'd been holding back for who knows how long. Not to mention a few more rounds in the bed. Never in a million years would you have guessed a shared breeding kink would finally be the thing that brought you to confess your love for each other.

hope you enjoyed! remember likes & reblogs help me reach more people! :D

[so-writing]

Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (16)

Notes: minimal editing you know. also, did you guys think they were going to have a good date?! 

all parts

-

What could go wrong?

It was an excellent question with an even better answer:

Everything. Everything could go wrong and it absolutely fucking did. 

You had been sitting, in a dress a little too tight and high as the sky heels that were insanely uncomfortable, for about twenty minutes when Matthew rolled into the restaurant. He was dressed in a tee shirt and joggers, clothing entirely too casual for the venue, and you could tell he’d been drinking.

“Sorry I’m late, had some stuff to do.”

You ignored the slight slur in his voice as you tried your best to smile at him, “you’re here now,” it was clipped but he didn’t notice.

“Yeah, yeah, definitely,” he pulled his chair out and plopped into it, completely ignoring you as he dove into the bread sitting in the middle of the table. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Matthew.”

He had downed two pieces of bread by the time you spoke up and after you did, his eyes stayed on the food in his hands. 

“You ask me out on a date, show up drunk and underdressed, and pay more attention to the appetizer than to me, this is such fucking bullshit.”

You were seeing red, and it wasn’t just the color of the carpet beneath your heels. He laughed to himself and continued to smash on the bread as you fished your phone out of your purse and ordered an Uber. 

This was a mistake and you should have known better. 

You were pretty sure Matthew didn’t even realize you excused yourself from the table and left the restaurant but you made sure to stop your server on the way out and order three bottles of the most expensive wine in house before you left, ensuring he was left with an extravagant bill. It was petty, but you couldn’t care less. 

++

The cookies and the nighttime city views were nice but they were just another one of those fleeting moments where Matthew acted like a human with real emotions. Showing up for the date drunk and dressed in casual clothes had you seething and you spent the entirety of your ride back to your apartment with you fists clenched so tight your fingernails left little crescent shaped indents in your palms. 

“He’s a fucking asshole, Onyx, he’s such a fucking asshole and that was his last chance. It’s like, he’ll do one nice thing only to follow it up with something so shitty it’s like he didn’t even do the nice thing in the first place.”

Unamused, Onyx continued to lick his paws and ignore your rant. You huffed at this, “You’re a shit listener, bud.” 

Your cat might have been a shit listener but you knew someone that wasn’t.

I know it’s late, you started a message to Brady, but your brother is such a fucking dick and I had to remind you of it.

Your phone was ringing less than five minutes later.

“I know you had a date tonight, what the fuck happened?” 

“Hello to you too, Brady.”

“Hi. What happened?” 

As you recounted the evening’s events to the younger Tkachuk brother, the irritation you felt earlier in the night began to make its way back into your head and based on Brady’s responses, you weren’t the only one in a bad mood because of the way things went down.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me? He’s really self-sabotaging the fuck out of this and I almost want you to tell him to kick fucking rocks permanently.”

“I’m ready to do that, honestly. It was so fucking embarrassing. The wait staff were all giving me those sympathetic looks and whispering to each other while I sat at a table by my fucking self until he got there and made me look even more stupid. I got dressed up, I made a fucking effort and he made a mockery of the entire ‘date.’”

“I know, I don’t blame you for being pissed. He’s not usually this bad at dealing with women, he doesn’t have a shit ton of game but he’s handled this whole situation with you absolutely fucking wrong.”

The two of you talked for a little longer before saying your goodbyes and ending the call. You weren’t sure what was going on between yourself and Matthew anymore but it was obvious that it wasn’t working out and after tonight, you were tired of it. 

It was time to put whatever this was to bed for good. 

Grabbing your phone from the coffee table, you leaned back against the couch and sent Matthew a text message: Hey Matthew, so tonight didn’t go as planned and it’s fine. I think it’s best for us to just have a professional relationship anyway. If you need to contact me, you can email me whenever. See you at work.

It wasn’t the most eloquent message you’d ever typed but hopefully it would get the point across. You read it one final time before pressing send, and as soon as ‘delivered’ appeared under the bubble, you blocked his number.

*

He woke up to the sound of a blaring alarm and a splitting headache. He also realized, after a few moments of finding his bearings, he wasn’t in his own bed. 

“Good morning, sunshine.” 

It wasn’t a voice he wanted to hear, “morning Eden.”

“I’m curious, Matty,” she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “why were you at a such fancy place in such shitty clothes?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“When you called me, you were at that fancy French place downtown by yourself. When I got there, you were deep into a bottle of expensive wine at a table that was clearly set for two. What’s going on?” 

Her voice was sickly sweet but despite his pounding headache, Matthew knew there was something accusatory hidden behind it. 

“I was celebrating.” 

“Celebrating what?” 

She was digging a bit too deep for someone that was just a casual hookup and it was starting to piss him off.

“The end of our arrangement.” 

He ignored the pain in his temples and pulled himself out of bed, grabbing his phone from the bedside table. Making his way through her apartment to put on his shoes and get the fuck out of there, he ignored her whining behind him. 

“Bye Eden,” he said before slamming the door on her and heading out into the cold Calgary air. 

It wasn’t until he went to order an Uber that he realized he had a bunch of unread text messages, most of them from Brady, but only one from her. 

Opening the text from her first, his heart sank when he read it. What the fuck had he done? 

As his Uber headed toward his apartment, Matthew read over the texts from Brady and, thought he couldn’t really remember the night before, it was pretty fucking obvious that he had ruined everything.

He had ruined everything and there wasn’t really even anything to ruin yet. 

Matthew took the elevator to her floor and slowly made his way down the hall toward her door, they were off today, she was most likely home. He stopped in front of her door but he couldn’t bring himself to knock. 

He was the one that left her sitting alone in a restaurant looking like a million fucking dollars while he showed up late, drunk and underdressed. Peanut butter cookies and his best version of puppy eyes weren’t going to fix this. She wanted a strictly professional relationship and Matthew had to respect that, especially after all the shit he’d put her through. 

The sound of the elevator hitting his floor pulled him out of his thoughts and he noticed a bag sitting in front of his door. As he approached, Matthew noticed the logo on the bag and a piece of paper taped to it. 

“You left without these, figured you’d want them because you paid. Got your address from the reservation application. I hope you can figure things out, that girl you were supposed to meet was an absolute catch. Dave, wait staff.” 

As if he needed reminding. Two bottles of the expensive wine she had spite ordered sat in the bag. Matthew unlocked his apartment and took them inside, pulling them out of the bag and throwing the note away, only to tape a new one on one of the bottles. 

*

You hadn’t planned to check your email at all but work was work and you loved your job. It was the usual shit and you promised yourself this was the last time you would refresh until you closed your laptop. 

A message from Matthew Tkachuk popped up, sent seven minutes ago. No message content but the subject read: I’m sorry, check your door.

You were off your couch faster than you cared to admit. 

“What the fuck,” you said to yourself, grabbing the bottles of wine and bringing them inside. 

They were easily recognizable. It was the wine you ordered on your date with Matthew and you were shocked to see them sitting outside your door. What was most surprising though, was the note attached to one of the bottles. 

‘Please take these as a gift, from a Flames player, to a very appreciated, supported and loved Flames staffer.’

*

If all she wanted was a professional relationship, Matthew would be the best damn coworker she’d ever had.

He placed the bottles gently on the floor and decided against knocking, choosing instead to go back up to his place and send her a ‘professional' email.

[delu-jean]

𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧

Oikawa x (fem!/reader) -> Angst -> 3.8k 

“She told me that she loved me by the water fountain. She told me that she loved me and she didn’t love him. And that was really lovely cause it was innocent, but now she has a cup with something else in it…”

Notes: This was for my 100 follower event! I will be closing it soon, but until then, if you’d like to request for an HQ boy, or any from the fandoms I write for, please feel free to request! 

-> Also, this one was a sad one. I recommend listening to the song, that way, you get the references made! 

-> Enjoy the Oikawa angst! ^^ 

“The water fountain…” he whispered. His lips were slightly ajar, parched, yearning for your presence. He was also frail, frail from the lack of composure, along with the crackling of his heart. 

“She told me that she loved me...by...by the water fountain,” he stammered, still not able to face the reality he was met with. 

“And she told me that she loved me...and she didn’t love him,” where did it all go wrong, when did it all go wrong, and why did it all go wrong? You told him that you loved him by that water fountain, but the only thing that seemed to flow...were the tears from him. 

---

You both were fairly young when getting together. Middle school, eventually led to highschool, and highschool...well...led to college. Oikawa and you were optimistic. Though he would be practicing (lots and lots), you wouldn’t be too far from him. Just a few dorms away. Not only that, but you both would see each other...every now and then You both were ecstatic. A new scenery, a new year, and a new chance for the both of you to experience the life of freshmen. Nothless, together. You both would be doing it together, closer than ever. 

Tooru was more than happy that you would get to cheer him on in college. It was always his dream to have a pretty girl praise him from the crowd, especially at the college of his dreams. The prime of his time, the best of his years, or...so he thought. 

When he brought you to his first practice, he didn’t like the sight as much as he thought he would. One of the middle blockers, Haru Tamagashi, was too...too friendly. He winked at you maybe three times during the practice. Making small flirtatious gestures, such as: smiling, waving, and indicating that all he wanted was your number. Of course, Oikawa was pissed, beyond that actually. But he decided to focus instead of fusing on his first day. 

That is...he tried to focus. At first, his attention was directed towards Tamagashi, and him alone. He had trusted you enough to know that you wouldn’t have responded...right? Even so, mid way...he couldn’t have helped but think of the thought: “what if?” What if you actually hadn’t deflected him, but were instead...enjoying his attention? He felt horrible for looking back, knowing that if he was wrong...he’d be the asshole for thinking twice. But unfortunately for him, he wasn’t...he was right during the time he wished he hadn’t been. 

The setter watched as your eyes followed the gentlemen. No hesitation whatsoever. It seemed as if you were interested in the game set before you. Not the match of course, but instead, the show Tamagashi had entertained you with. You yourself had waved back to him, smiling while also grabbing your phone. You were taking a video of the game, but Oikawa knew that it wasn’t of the court. No. It was of...him. The way your fingers pinched the screen, to the way your phone had moved to match his directions. It was obvious to say the least. Occasionally, you would’ve pointed the camera to Oikawa, smiling as he’d give you a frown. Only for you to return to recording the star of the show...dragging his morale as he’d eventually get hit in the face. Something that would never happen...especially if Iwaizumi was off court. 

“Oikawa, get your head out of the gutter!” 

“...” 

“Oikawa, did you hear me!?-” 

“Hey, pops, let him off the hook would ya?” Tamagashi said, while placing a hand on Oikawa’s shoulder. 

“I, how dare you-” 

“It’s the first day back, we could all use less of the hollering.” 

“Tch, five laps for you.” 

“Damn, alright. Welp, at least I got you off the hook,” the boy smirked, as Oikawa’s expression...wouldn’t change.  

“Well, see you soon. Also, I hope I can see you too!” he shouted while looking at you. Only for you to nod shyly. Oikawa could’ve sworn he saw a tint in your cheeks, but regardless, he was too upset to confront it. Even then, maybe he was over analyzing it. The dude didn’t know that you were his girlfriend, and after all, maybe he was just being self conscious. 

He was upset that he hadn’t trusted you at all during the game, and felt bad that he instead made you seem...villainy. Even though it might’ve just been his head all along. You see, Oikawa was the type of person who enjoyed praise. It fueled his ego alright, but in all truth, he had never felt like he embodied those expectations. 

Constantly pushing himself to be better, believing that he never was really that good. In this situation, he had thought that maybe those feelings...had come into play. Maybe the reason why he was thinking so much...was because Tamagashi seemed like everything he wasn’t. An outgoing, down to earth, charismatic person. He also might've been an even better player than he himself was. Not only that, but did he mention his hair? It looked amazing on him, along with the uniform. The creases folded on his body, each making his figure look...well, great. You could see his toned structure from a mile away, along with his sharp smile. One which struck confidence, and intimidation. 

And you...you looked like you could get with a guy like that. He seemed like a genuine person, and you were a genuine lady. One of which deserved a catch like him. He wouldn’t have denied that he pictured the image in his head. It felt sickening that he even brung up the vision, but even so...Oikawa tried pushing the thought away, thinking: 

‘Tch..whatever. He’s not that good looking anyways, Plus, he doesn’t know we’re dating...so I should tell him afterwards. But...that was nice of him to do. Yeah, you know what...maybe we could all be friends? Me, Y/n, and him?’ 

Maybe you all could’ve been, if only things had flowed a little different. If only the stream hadn’t gone off course, but instead, moved along to the water fountain. One with a secure, and sturdy future. One which wouldn’t have rusted, and collapsed in the moments to follow. 

“I’m back!” 

“Oh...you seemed tired,” he’d say, watching as Haru nodded. 

“Yeah, the old geezer isn’t fun sometimes...but he’s a nice person, I can guarantee that-” 

“Hey~” you’d smile, looking in Tooru's direction. He then lifted his hand, a soft, but saddened grin engraved onto his face. Only for it to turn into a sudden frown, as he then watched Tamagashi wave instead. 

“Well hello, doll~” you then chuckled, moving a strand to the back of your ear. Oikawa had only seen that on days where he’d made your heart sway, and yet there he was, watching as another man had done so instead. 

“Hey babe,” he’d say casually, catching your attention as you approached him. 

“Hi...Oikawa.” 

‘Oikawa?...not sweetie, or?-’ 

“Ahh, do you two know each other?” 

‘Now’s my chance.’ 

“Yeah, she’s my girlf-” 

“Haru, am I correct!? Thanks for doing that, I thought it was really nice for you to stand up for him like that.”

“Honestly, don’t please. It’s just something that I would do for anyone. Besides, I bet that you would’ve done the same for me, right Oikawa?” 

“Hm?...ah, I guess,” Tooru was now staring at you. He gave a stern look. One fueled with anger, and confusion. Yet it also had hints of remorse, and grief. Why had you cut him off, why hadn’t you called him by the name you usually did, and why were you putting the effort to talk with him?...Tamagashi? Just what exactly was running through that head of yours. One of which he thought he knew both in...and out. 

“Well...we have to go. So let’s leave Y/n,” he then grabbed your wrist, practically dragging you out of the arena. 

“Ah, see you two later then...I guess?” 

“B-bye Haru!” 

“Byee~” 

---

“What was that!?”

“What was what-”

“Why didn’t you call him kawa-kun, or baby like you usually do?”

“Tooru...you’re thinking a little much, don’t you think?-”

“Why did you cut me off when I was going to tell him that you’re my girlfriend?” 

“Love, I didn’t mean to-”

“But why did you!?” 

“Look, I was just trying to thank him. Plus, we needed to get going. So I thought to make it quick so that we could,” he’d then frown even more, not able to tell if you had told the truth, or, if you had made up excuses to get yourself out of this. He thought he knew what went on in that pretty head of yours, but at that moment, he wasn’t sure of what roamed around in that foreign land. The land, or rather...place he had called his home. 

He thought that your mind would’ve at least had a crevasse. One especially built, and reserved for him. One of which would’ve considered how he felt, or how the situation might’ve been interpreted. After all, not only did his thoughts roam endlessly for you, but so did the space in his heart. Regardless, it seemed as if it didn’t as you proceeded to tell him reason, after reason. 

“He was being friendly, and so was I.” 

“He’s your teammate, and I think it’s nice for me to get to know them.” 

“I love you regardless, so don’t worry.” 

“Regardless?...” What was that supposed to mean? Even though he would’ve wanted to question, his mouth just...wouldn’t allow it. So because of that, he dismissed the matter. Something he wished he didn’t do. 

---

Time passed and though he hated to admit it, he didn’t see both you, and haru, interacting as much as he did the first time. Though, it should’ve relieved him, it most definitely did not. Two things had him tied behind his back. One of them made him feel like a complete jerk for over-thinking, and the second was...that his thoughts had still made him over-think. For some reason, he still suspected the both of you. You both had minimal contact, making it seem like you never talked...but that was the thing, why would you have both stopped your talks? Just what exactly would have sparked such a thing? Still, maybe he was just over thinking. 

Regardless, he wanted to get the thought out of his head. He despised that it still lingered there, and that it wouldn’t be on it’s way. He hated the thought of confronting you. After all of that time, that trust should have been established. And even so, he still wanted to assure himself that it was there. So, he sat you down one day. Sometime during the winter where the snowflakes had fallen, along with his heart attached to many strings. Ones which you had placed, and ones which you would remove. 

“Hey babe-...Y/n.” 

“Hey Kawa...it’s been a while since we last met up…”

“Hm?...really?” the both of you hadn’t talked during the time period. Yes, you attended his matches, practices, etc...but then once he had finished you both made your separate ways. On the days where you both had expected to meet, one was busy, and the other was left on their own. Not making your situation any better. 

“Yeah...a month or two I think?” 

“Oh..I’m sorry about that,” he said, with a gruffed tone in his voice. He didn’t sound like he was doing too well, whereas you seemed just fine. “Why was that?” he wondered, well...it wouldn’t take him too long to find out “why” soon. 

“Hey baby…” a name which he hadn’t called you in so long, felt foreign to his mouth. Even though it should’ve felt...natural...along with your response. 

“Mhm?” you responded, reluctantly. That reaction was one he had never seen, not only that, but it was also one he wished he’d never witnessed. 

“I’ve had this thought lingering in my mind. I know it’s a little messed up...and I might be overreacting…” 

“Yes, what is it?” you immediately said, seeming anxious at the moment. 

“Well...it’s just that...there’s nothing between you and Tamagashi, is there? Aww see, I knew it would be dumb to ask,” he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. Only your reaction...had made it plummet. 

Your eyes had widened at the statement. A cough escaped your mouth, along with a scare. One of which, also gave him a fright. There was no way he was right...especially about that out of all things. Why?...Why would you give him such a stare? Maybe it was out of surprise?...maybe even distraught that he would ever bring up such a question. One about your loyalty nonetheless. He wished he could’ve kept on making excuses, but couldn’t any longer as he then heard you say:

“N-no...where would you have heard such a thing? Did he say anything?...oh, he was probably joking. Joking is all, haha. No, I only love you silly, and you alone,” you said, to then grab his hand. 

For some reason, it felt off. The way your thumb caressed his skin, it was as if he could feel the guilt which had stroked against him. Why...why was that? He could obviously tell that you were guilty of something, but he wouldn’t confront it. Why...why was that? He obviously wasn’t up in his head, but still convinced himself he was. Why...why was that?...well...even if he didn’t have the answer, he would soon enough. In the way that he would’ve, yet wouldn’t have wanted it to be relayed. 

---

“YOU BASTARD! SO YOU HAVE BEEN GOING OUT WITH HER!?” 

“It was just a couple of kisses, besides, you have so many girls on your plate. I just took one off your hands, no biggie-” Oikawa then struck him across the cheek, furious about what he said. You weren’t just a snack anyone could take a bite out of. And heck, if you were a piece of food, you’d be a piece he’d preserve for as long as he could. One he would never touch because of the beautiful, intricate designs that were placed. 

“YOU SHIT HEAD! SHE’S MY GIRLFRIEND FOR FUCKS SAKE! EVEN IF YOU DIDN’T KNOW-” 

“Who said I didn’t?” he cocked a brow, making Oikawa widen his eyes. 

“What?...”

“The girl told me herself before coming in to kiss me.” 

“You’re lying, take it back. She would never-”

“Oh but she did. But don’t worry, she did feel bad at some point...but we were in too deep for her to back out-” 

“SHUT UP!” Oikawa then tried to punch his gut, but Haru stopped him midway. He grabbed his wrist, and held onto it firmly. 

“If anything, you should be thanking me.” 

“Thanking you!? Are you out of your mind!-” 

“Well, I am telling you the truth about your cheater of a girlfriend. Plus, I took her off your hands, so you're free to go to find someone new. I’ll let her go soon, so we both won’t have to deal with her-” 

“Shut it...shut it…” Oikawa repeated, unable to comprehend the news he had heard. 

“Please...be quiet.” 

---

“Tooru, I can explain!” 

“EXPLAIN WHAT Y/N!? THAT YOU MADE OUT WITH HIM MORE THAN ONCE!? THAT YOU DENIED MY THOUGHTS, MAKING ME FEEL AS IF I WAS WRONG!? OR THAT YOU ACTUALLY CHEATED ON ME!? I DON’T THINK YOU CAN EXPLAIN ANYTHING Y/N!” 

“You know what, MAYBE I CAN’T! AND I WAS SORRY FOR THAT!” 

“IF YOU WERE SO SORRY, THEN WHY...why did you do it?...” you then leaned against the door, not sure how to convey your thoughts. You hated the sight of Oikawa being so hurt, but you had your reasons for what you did. Though you yourself knew that conflict could’ve been avoided, you decided to plumit yourself right in it. Maybe it was because you wanted to catch his attention, or that Yamagashi had really attracted you. Regardless, what was done, was done. And you wouldn’t be one to deny such accusations aymore. 

“Look...you weren’t giving me the attention I needed...besides...Tamagashi had caught my eye.” 

“Caught your eye?...” 

“Yeah...even so...it felt wrong the first time I kissed him.” 

‘She kissed him?...so he wasn’t lying...she started things…’ 

“I told him that we were dating, and you know...I did stop myself before going any further. I truly felt lonely during the days that you were gone...and him being there, gave me comfort. In all truth, I had met him even before you introduced us. We were in the same English class...and things built up from there. 

He was just...so enticing, something I hadn’t seen for a while. But Oikawa, I still had strings attached to you, and didn’t want to throw them away recklessly. I’m sorry, I loved you, I truly did. But...that connection just...disappeared, along with the spark we used to have. I hesitated out of my affection for you, but I proceeded out of the tiredness that built up from this, us...again, I’m sorry Oikawa. I hope that,” a tear had struck down your cheek. He wanted to reach out and wipe it. Just why...why were you crying. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one tearing up? So...why were you?.... Even though that question should’ve been asked out of rage, it was instead asked out of remorse. Oikawa didn’t know how to feel at that point. He didn’t even know who he was, or...who he had been during that time given. 

All that he knew was that if you were willing to fix things, so would he. That if you ever came back to the water fountain, the one you tried so hard to build, even if the handle had rusted, he would do his best to fix it. You know, he thought to himself how he should’ve built a home for the both of you, but alas, your naive natures would’ve never sustained. He questioned if he truly was at fault, not sure as to what was what, and why exactly that was. 

“I hope that...you’ll be happy. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but yeah,” you then wiped your own tears yourself. Not wanting to add anymore emphasis to the drama at hand. You lied though. Of course you wanted him to forgive you. He was your first love after all. The only one you had grown up with. The only one you stood by. And the only one, you would truly be grateful for. But then again, you knew you didn’t deserve it (it being his forgiveness). 

Although you didn’t regret your choices, you most definitely did regret hurting him. If only talking had been an option, would you have taken it? Well...you would’ve assumed no. Being that it was one of the few options given. Still, watching him stand limply, tore your heart ever so slightly. Reminding you that he was both the sweet, and innocent boy you had hopelessly fell in love with. Not only that, but he was also the distant, and maturing man you had fallen out of love with. 

“You...have you forgotten what you told me by that water fountain?” 

“What do you mean-” 

“The one we built together...have you forgotten?...” In all truth, you didn’t have any recollection because all that you had remembered...was the empty home the both of you shared. One with no running water, nonetheless a water fountain. One built out of your young, and blinded dreams. One which was full of loneliness, and miscommunication. One which was full of “love,” and loads of wishful dreaming. One which you would always remember. 

“No Tooru...all I remember...is that empty place we called a home. One made when we were both naive, and one I had left when I matured. I hope you can do the same, and that...you have a great day,” you then started to walk away as he stood there, stunned. 

Instead of asking him to fix things, you instead deflected things. Running away as he spoke. Even so, even if it was only a wish, one of which he’d pray for, he would do his best to make it come true. He tried one last time. He jolted your direction, grabbed your wrist, and started pulling you in. Whispering in your ear: 

“I know that it’s only a wish, and that we’re not standing by the water fountain...but you told me that you loved me by that water fountain. It’s a shame that your cup...now has something else in it,” you then pushed him off you, but he wouldn’t let you go as he held your for the last time. 

Had Tamagashi held you the same way he did? He wouldn’t know, and in all honesty, wouldn’t have cared. He was too lost in his head to even think of the guy, and only thought of you. If only things had been different, would you have come back to him? To the place you both called a home? Sure, it might’ve started when you both were young, but it would’ve stood stronger with the years to come. 

Well...he would’ve never got to know, because things...would’ve never been different. He should’ve built a home with a fountain for you both, but he was too young to think such a thought. Just like how you were so young, too young to feel as lonely as you did. The moment that you told him you were in love, he was…: 

“Too young...I was too young,” eventually, he did let go. Not just of you, but the thought that you both could return to what you both had. There was no returning. If the handle was broken, what could he have done? Fixing one would need all parts, and if you were one of the essential keys, well...even with the right bolts, and screws, ones that could have replaced you, still wouldn’t have mattered. You missing, would never fix a thing. It could never make that fountain whole, regardless of the patches which tried to stitch up the flood. One of which would eternally flow...never ending...just like his love for you. 

He glanced at you one time. Just one last time would he stare at his sweet Y/n. The girl who had stuck through with him, through thick and thin. The only person who knew, and loved him for him. And the only woman, who had truly broken his heart. Not caring for him one bit while she tore it all apart. 

“You’re right...we were too young,” he said, glancing at the floor beneath him. 

“Yes we were, and I was right indeed.” 

---

“She couldn’t be at home at the night time because, it made her feel alone-” he choked on his sentence. Though he should’ve been fine, he wasn’t really. He had tried to shield himself with his pride, but it wasn’t working the way he had intended. Regardless, Oikawa realized how the distance between your hearts...was more distant than the distance between your dorms. He thought that moving colleges would’ve made you drift, but in reality, it was the blameless nature, and the naive mindsets you both had. Those innocent gestures...had turned into a guilty, and corrupted bondage. The bond you had both shared was one he would always remember. The only one which had reminded him: 

“That we’re not standing by the water fountain.” 

@glorii-chan @iworshipyelena @tsukkisaurousrex​

[stxrrywildflower]

love you goodbye (s.r)

pairing - spencer reid x reader

summary - “it’s inevitable everything that’s good comes to an end”

warnings - angst, fighting

there was something about love that people fantacized about.

finding your perfect partner, living your lives together, maybe having a family - it was something most aspired towards.

it was a natural reaction, companionship was a basic human need after all. it gave people a sense of belonging.

at first, spencer seemed to be your other half. he taught you how to love, how to be youself, and most importantly, helped you become such a better person. your relationship seemed ideal, all key points of what you wanted being checked off.

you were sure you two would end up together in the end, if asked, you would have placed a bet on it.

but over the course of your relationship, your time together slowly dwindled. in the beginning, you could easily tell spencer was fully committed. he actively tried to be home on time, and if he wasn’t, he was making it up in another way.

by the time you were a few months in, you slowly gave him more leeway when it came to work. his job was extremely demanding and you did not want to be the significant other who dragging the other down.

anyone could tell spencer took advantage of that in some way. he would start showing up ten, twenty, thirty minutes, and even an hour after when you expected him.

you always knew where he was, spencer usually got lost in work once he started. besides, he always let you know if he was doing something with the team.

you were really hoping tonight would actually happen. you and spencer actually sat down to plan out a date night. spencer had promised he would be home on time. but unsurprisingly, you were seated on his couch forty-five minutes after the time you were set to leave and just waiting for him to walk through the door.

the keys turned in the lock before the door opened a moment later. you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees and keeping your gaze on the coffee table in front of you.

“you’re late again spencer.”

he was quick to formulate an excuse, mind turning as he desperately tried to grasp some words that could help his case. even then he was still nose deep in work. “i know i just had an extra file to write up and then i-”

“i can’t do this anymore,” you cut him off.

spencer stopped dead in his tracks, meeting your downcast eyes in clear suprise. “what are you talking about?”

“us i mean,” you explained. “i can’t be in a relationship with you anymore. i just can’t.”

by now spencer had dropped off his work bag on the table and moved to lean against the kitchen counter. “can i go put my badge and gun away and then we can talk about this?”

you tucked your head down further after that. even during a potential breakup his first thought was work. “sure.”

he returned a moment later, resuming his previous spot almost immediately. a great concern was in his eyes. you could tell he was already formulating multiple theories on what was going on.

“can you please just explain this?” spencer asked.

you took a deep breath first. a lot was going to be revealed in the next few minutes and you wanted to be prepared.

“i can’t be with someone who isn’t here for me half of the time,” you explained calmly. “i’ve tried so hard to make this work with minimal complaints and i’m just done with it. you’re never here spencer. half of our dates get canceled and when you are in this apartment you’re working most of the time. it isn’t fair to me to deal with it anymore.”

spencer already started protesting. “but that’s not true y/n. i’m here as much as i can.”

“how many days nights have gotten canceled because of your work? how many times have i had to wake up to an empty bed because you’ve slipped out during the night? come on spence, you’re a genius. do the math.”

for once, he didn’t have an answer to that.

“do you realize how difficult this could be for me as well? have you taken that into consideration?”

something about the way spencer said that made you cower back. he took note of that immediately, guilt becoming his primary emotion. you quickly regained your stature, already ready for what you would say next.

“go on then spencer. twist that knife and turn this one on me,” you spoke, your tone already raised.

everything finally set in during that moment. you had never fought, never like this anyway. you didn’t want to fight anymore, you just wanted this to be over. the environment in the apartment was already becoming suffocating.

it didn’t feel like home anymore.

somewhere you considered to be your safe place, a place where you spent more time than your own home was no longer somewhere you felt comfortable.

the rooms felt foreign even though you had been the only one occupying. they no longer felt warm with the family like feelings you had filled them with. it lacked something, something you didn’t even know was replaceable at this point.

looking around, you tried to mentally grasp on something, anything that would give you a good reason to stay. but there was nothing, not even one of your gifts for spencer that resided one his shelf.

they felt empty, no emotional ties to them whatsoever. any sense of the love you had always felt had slipped out of the cracks and into the open air, almost as if it was impossible to catch them.

you almost just wanted to go back to the start of it all, when you were still naive enough to not see the faults in your relationship. you were mature now, and faults were the only thing you were seeing.

spencer let out a heavy sigh. “what do you want me to do y/n? there’s nothing i can do to change this.”

that question alone ignited something inside of you.

“maybe you could have started by actually putting some effort into this relationship,” you pointed an accusatory finger at him. “because i’m exhausted of waiting for you and always being the one let down. besides, it’s too late anyway.”

spencer stood quietly across from you, arms crossed and looking at you with sad eyes. it was clear that you had more to say, and the last thing he wanted to do was add more fuel to the fire.

“do you even realize how terrifying it is to be dating you? i don’t know if you’re even alive half of the time and i hope, i truely hope that i get your usual text letting me know you’re on your way home,” you spoke, desperately trying to keep your tears down. “everytime i get a call or text from someone that’s not you i panic. because more times than none it’s about you getting hurt and i have to be there to pick up the pieces. and i know that’s part of a relationship, to be there for each other, but it’s not fair to me to not get the same in return.”

the weight of your words crashed down with an uncertainty to them as they processed in spencer’s brain.

you were shaking, that’s what he took note of first. your fingers dancing across your your arms in a small effort to calm yourself down.

“i uh, i don’t,” you stuttered. “i need to pack.”

just as you passed spencer, his hand came out to hold your wrist. it didn’t hurt by any means, just took you by suprise. however, you quickly shook out of his grip.

“don’t.”

spencer frowned. “i’m sorry.”

you stayed in place, not quite knowing what he needed you for. you just wanted to pack and bag and go home.

“can you at least stay the night?” spencer asked.

you agreed after a brief thought, that’s the minimum you owed him. you would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t going to miss him. it was a prime example of wrong place, wrong time.

there was an almost serene silence between the two of you as you headed down the main hallway and towards spencer’s room.

few words were exchanged in the whole process of getting changed and brushing your teeth other then an occasional ‘excuse me.’ it was almost as if whatever either of you said would make the whole night worse.

when it was finally time for bed, you slid under the covers first. spencer lingered in the room, he would need to leave in a moment to check the apartment anyway.

“can we not talk about all this tonight?” you pleaded.

spencer nodded. “can we just make a deal before?”

“what is it?”

“if you decide that in the morning you want to give us another try, i’ll be here and we can try again. okay?”

the silence returned for a brief moment. spencer waited on, hoping that you would agree to what he asked.

“deal,” you answered quietly.

the lights went off after that, your only source cutting through the darkness being the nightlight in the hallway.

you kept your back to spencer as he too got in bed. to be honest, you really didn’t want him seeing the tears in the corners of your eyes that threatened to fall. were you really so distant that you wouldn’t even let him see you cry?

even in the dark, spencer could already tell something was wrong. he hovered behind you, not quite sure how you would react to him right now. “is this okay?” he questioned. “yeah.”

spencer tentatively reached down to rest his hand on your arm, running it back and forth for pure comfort. a gently kiss to your bare shoulder followed.

you curled into his touch, already shifting back to press your back to his stomach. spencer wrapped an arm around you; neither of you were quite sure if this would be your last night together.

“goodnight y/n.”

“goodnight spencer.”

☆ ☆ ☆

tags - @blakes-dictionxry @hurricanejjareau @ogmilkis @ssa-morgan @gublertoon @ah-blossom @emilyslefteyebrow @holding-on-to-my-youth @agentshortstacc @emilysprentisss @bxbyspxncer @blakeprentiss @goldenxreid

[lamesiscanon]

Remus meets Padfoot

(Read on AO3)

The first time Remus saw the dog in the shrieking shack, he was high.

Not high in the way he and James would spend Sunday afternoons under the quidditch stands, nor in the way the four marauders would occasionally get something from Gid Prewett and spend hours in their dorm room talking about nothing that mattered and laughing until their stomachs hurt.

No, Remus was high in the sense that he tore his body nearly in half once a month and this potion that Pomfrey gave him was the only way to minimalize the pain before he ripped himself apart in just under an hour. Side effects may include: tripping balls and space travel to other planets.

And apparently hallucinating giant, black dogs. This one was new. But hey, at least the full moon didn’t have shit on him now. 

Had Remus been in a state of mind that would have allowed his brain to produce just one sober thought, he might have been scared. Hallucination or not, seeing a dog that was almost the same size as your werewolf alter ego standing at an arm’s length away from your face was enough to scare any regular person shitless.

The thought was enough to make Remus laugh to himself. Any normal person would be scared shitless, but fortunately for Remus he was a teenage werewolf with a fucking magic wand. Seeing some stray in the shack was the least of his problems. 

The stray in question cocked it’s head to the side, still staring at Remus, and the action was so familiar that Remus felt something shift in his mind that didn’t quite sit right. Remus only laughed harder. 

“I don’t know what you want from me.” And oh Merlin, now he was talking to a dog and quite obviously getting no response. Maybe he should try again in an hour, when he was no longer Remus Lupin. The dog stared, making no effort to reply if it could. It was actually kind of adorable, and Remus would love to indulge in the company if he weren’t about to turn into a fucking monster. 

“You should leave. You’re not safe here.” 

The dog didn’t move, and Remus’ control quickly started to deplete. 

“Get the fuck out of here. I could hurt you, you know.”

Again, the dog tilted its head and Remus hated how odd it made him feel. Everything about the damn thing, the fur, the eyes, the movements. It all almost reminded him of - 

“Seriously, are you even fucking real?” Remus got frustrated, frantic with the sudden paranoia that maybe he wasn’t even here right now, and maybe the transformation already happened and maybe the wolf had finally just finished it and maybe this was some kind of sick afterlife dream -

Oh. 

The dog had moved to sit its head directly on Remus’ lap, where his hand involuntarily came to rest on the back of its neck, snapping him back to reality. Soft, silky black fur. His movements through the dog’s hair were gentle despite Remus’ rising agitation. He should get up, shove the dog’s head off of him and throw him out the tunnel, since there really was no other way of exiting the shack. 

“How did you get in here, girl?” Remus asked, to which the only reply was a short, deep growl. “Shit, sorry. How’d you get in here, buddy?” 

Remus felt ridiculous. High off his mind, talking to a stray dog that had somehow wandered past the tree and ended up laying it’s head in Remus’ lap after one minute of meeting him, and Remus was now talking to the damn thing, like it could answer him and take away all of the worries that lived on Remus’ imaginary list of “How fucked up can my life really get?”

“You’re not safe, I’m about to tear this room apart and I could hurt you.” 

Still, the dog didn’t answer, (No fucking surprise there) and Remus really didn’t make any effort in kicking it out. Even if he wanted to, he wasn’t sure his body would allow him to do that at the moment. Already, he could feel the moon pulling his mind away, and his blood becoming hotter while his skin started crawling a mile a minute. 

“I hope you’re safe.” Was the last thing Remus managed to remember saying before the potion really took over, and then half an hour later, Remus Lupin was no longer a teenage boy, but a monster under the full moon. 

The dog wasn’t in the shack after Remus woke up the next morning. 

-

The second time Remus saw the dog, he didn’t take the potion. Madam Pomfrey was so surprised to see the lack of injuries Remus woke up with last month, that she had insisted she’d save it for when Remus would really need it, and worried that taking it every month would just allow his body to build up a tolerance anyways. 

The dog came in quietly, something Remus wouldn’t have noticed if it weren’t for his super human hearing and the smell of sweaty fur that surrounded the room the second it walked through the door. Remus was sitting on the bed, hands clasped tight like he was trying to break his own fingers, and head hung low to stop his head from spinning. 

“Hello again.” Remus grit out, always polite no matter the circumstances. “I hope I didn’t scare you away last time. I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”

The dog came over to sit in front of Remus, head tilted curiously again which made Remus scoff. 

“I know, I know. I’m fucking crazy, you can’t understand me, and you watched me turn into a beast last month. Anything else you’d like to cover?” Remus asked, watching as the dog moved towards him and nudged at his clasped hands. 

Stop it he seemed to be saying. Remus regretfully let his fingers slide out from each other, one by one, until the dog was able to move between them and set its head on Remus’ upper thigh. 

“You smell like my boyfriend.” Remus said. The dog yelped, excitedly, before resting his head back where it was. “No, don’t take that as a compliment. He’s always sweaty after quidditch and insists on victory hugs. It’s disgusting.”

If any of this wasn’t weird before, it certainly was then, now that Remus could swear he watched the dog roll his eyes.

“Your fur is softer than his hair though, I’ll give you that.” Remus said through a yawn, noticing from his watch that he was only half an hour from transformation. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to take off my clothes before I rip them to shreds.” 

The dog moved away slowly, moving to stand contentedly by the foot of the bed, watching Remus as he took off his sweater, then the t-shirt, and finally his jeans and pants. He shoved them far under the bed, hoping they’d be safe and easy to access before Madam Pomfrey got there in the morning. 

The dog stayed with Remus, through the transformation, and was there this time when Remus woke up, curled up under the werewolf’s head and snoring soundly. 

His injuries from the night before were minimal, and the dog looked perfectly safe. 

Huh. 

- 

Things started clicking in Remus’ mind when James and Peter were all of sudden calling Sirius “Padfoot” around the common room and in the dorm. How James made too many jokes about Sirius’ “dog-like” behavior to the point where it was no longer funny, though at first, Remus didn’t understand why they were so funny to Peter. Then Remus started noticing how tired Sirius was the days after full moons, like he’d stayed up all night. 

Remus Lupin was no idiot, and the rest of the Marauders should have remembered that if they wanted to keep it a secret. 

Before Remus was to head out to the shack for the third time that year, Sirius grabbed his wrist and kissed him, a deep loving kiss and whispered a “see you soon” though Sirius didn’t know that Remus knew how “soon” he actually meant. 

Padfoot showed up fifteen minutes after Remus arrived at the shack, clothes already off and huddled under the threadbare blanket on the armchair in the corner. It was missing a lot of stuffing, thanks to the several scratch marks, but it was comfy thanks to his well placed charms.

Remus smiled when he saw the big, black dog nose the door open and then shut.

“I’m glad to see you.” He told it, and the dog stopped, like it were surprised, before bouncing towards Remus on the chair and licking his face. Knowing Sirius, he was just as excited to see Remus. 

“Ugh, stop. If I wanted terrible, sloppy kisses then I’d just go ask my boyfriend.” 

The dog barked in protest, and Remus managed to keep from laughing, watching Padfoot plop his head on the armrest of the chair in protest.

“Aw, sorry boy.” Remus pulled his arm from under the blanket to move his fingers through the familiar, dark fur, and watched the dog relax. “I didn’t mean to offend you. If it makes you feel better, you’re not nearly as bad as he is.” 

Padfoot pulled away quickly, giving out another sharp bark in indignation before going to sit on the bed, like he were protesting Remus’ words. As fun as this was, Remus had had enough. 

He pulled himself away from the chair with the blanket wrapped around him and went to sit next to Padfoot on the bed. 

“Sirius.” Remus whispered, and the dog raised it’s head in response, though it didn’t seem like he had registered what Remus just called him. “Change back, please. I want you right now.” 

Realization flooded Padfoot’s eyes, and Remus stared until they became Sirius’ perfect gray ones. 

“Who the fuck told you! Was it Peter? I swear to Merlin, that rat is going to fucking-” 

“Sirius.” 

Sirius stopped, looking back at Remus with apology and a lot of questions on his face. 

“No one told me, I figured it out.” 

“You- you figured it out.” It wasn’t a question but Remus nodded anyway. “How? I mean, I know you’re not stupid, Moony, but I thought I was subtle.” 

“Moony? Is that a nickname similar to Padfoot?” Remus asked. Sirius gaped at him, before flopping himself down on the bed. 

“Fucking James and his dog jokes, that’s how you knew, isn’t it?” 

“Yes. But since the first time you came here I thought ‘Padfoot’ reminded me of someone. Some ridiculous, charming boy who insists on sweaty hugs after quidditch games and is terrible at kissing.” Remus laughed when Sirius sat up and shoved at Remus’ shoulder. 

“You were having me on!” Sirius realized. “You were trying to get me to admit it to you.”

Remus reached over and grabbed Sirius’ hand, still laughing but looking at Sirius like he was something precious. It made Sirius’ heart beat fast and want to hold Moony until he was safe. 

I love you. Fuck, Moony, I just realized I love you.

“I wasn’t trying to get you to admit it to me. But it was fun to watch you try and prove your kissing skills.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but he looked back to Remus with a soft gaze and what he hoped was absolute love in his eyes.

“So you technically knew it was me the whole time.” Sirius reached his hand up to cup Remus’ jaw, thumb stroking the smallest scar on his cheek.

“I guess so. The way you tilt your head when you’re curious or confused, and how you like to lay your head in my lap. I remember thinking that this new strange dog acted exactly like the boy I’m in love with.” Remus eyes stared right into Sirius’ during the confession, like he was challenging Sirius, or more like trying to prove how honest he was being. 

Sirius realized his mouth had dropped open, and he quickly shut it before crawling closer to Remus until he was in the other boy’s lap. 

“You... you love me?” 

Sirius’ tone made Remus’ heart ache. The fact that he had to question it at all made Remus angry at Sirius’ family, at anyone who ever made this boy doubt the love he had in his life. 

Remus moved his hands from Sirius’ arms to his face, so they were both cupping each other’s chins and stroking their thumbs. Sirius’ face was wet.

“Of course I love you. You’re such a fucking brave, reckless Gryffindor I think they should name the house after you.” Sirius giggled wetly, pulling at Remus’ heart. “And the way you care for James, Peter, Regulus, Lily. And me. Fuck, pads, you became and animagus for me. There’s no way I couldn’t love you. You’re just you and I was doomed from the start.”

Sirius finally, finally leaned in and kissed Remus. It started as a soft kiss, light and full of sweetness before Sirius angled his head and deepened it.

“It’s not just me.” Sirius gasped a couple of minutes later when he regretfully had to pull away. “It wasn’t just- James and Peter are animagi to. Or, trying to be. I mastered it before them.” Sirius smirked at Remus, resting their foreheads together. 

“Of course you did, you egotistical genius.” Remus leaned in and kissed Sirius again. “I love you.” 

“I love you too. Fuck, how have I not said it back already? I fucking love you, Moony.”

The moment wasn’t forever, despite how sweet it was. Remus had less than thirty minutes before the full moon, he could feel it pulling on his skin, his heart, his head. The pain that showed up before every transformation was numbed though, by the boy in his arms who was playing with Remus’ hair and leaving kisses on his nose, eyebrow, cheeks and eyelids. Anywhere he could reach, really. 

And when the morning came, Sirius was able to transform back into himself this time and heal some of Remus’ minor injuries. After every one, he’d leave a soft kiss over each new scar and whispers of “I love you.” 

Remus didn’t need a potion that numbed his pain and made him high, he needed Sirius, and their friends who were going to join them in the shack soon to help Remus’ life become a little easier. With them, the full moon really didn’t have shit on him now.

[morethanaprincess-a]

Closed, plotted starter for @whitecrowns-blackthrones​ !

"He looks so stern, too stern," As soon as Sonia could hear her mother's voice over her shoulder, she sighed, making every effort not to grimace as she descended the grand staircase between both parents. It was unconventional, but so was a Crown Princess for a country who had, until now, yet to be blessed with a future female monarch and a current, reigning king and queen who spent more time apart than together, and the few instances they did ended up in disagreements at best. "One has to wonder if when the artist asked Prince Slane to smile, he chose that expression out of spite."

Sonia closed the cover over the miniature. Covered in scarlet red velvet, it stood out against the sea of cool tones that swathed the Royal Family and most of the Novoselic Court. Perhaps it was an indication of just how out of place the Camellian royal would be as part of the family. King Alexandre and Queen Valentina both wore the forest green and gold colors that represented Novoselic, while Sonia herself had been chosen a gown of light blue silk, adorned with pearls to match her eyes and, for once, make her parents pale in comparison. That wasn't a challenging feat, once the King and Queen were removed from the spotlight and forced into the same space for longer than the length of a tea. She slipped the tiny portrait of her supposed future husband into one of the gown's hidden pockets. It was already uneasy, the prospect of an arranged marriage that she'd avoided, successfully, for so long. But at twenty-three, she was becoming far too old to remain unmarried and far too old to be the mediator between disagreeable parents.

"You haven't even met him yet, Valentina," King Alexandre pointed out tiredly. Sonia supposed it made sense for her father to look weary nowadays, instead of cheerful and joyous. That had been his reaction to his only child and daughter finishing university, returning home and eagerly taking an interest in the running of the country she'd one day inherit. But since the decision had been made to ally with the Kingdom of Camellia by marriage, the King had been subjected with everything from hesitation and plenty of questions from the bride-to-be to downright disapproval and disdain from his wife, who hardly approved of much of anything he did in most cases. Sonia could swear she'd spotted far more greys in his golden-blonde hair and various crinkles around his eyes, ice blue that matched his daughter's.  "Perhaps meet him first before deciding that you dislike him and he's unsuitable for Sonia?" Not that it made much difference anyway: the King had the final word regarding the marriage of his heir, not the Queen.

"I'm only saying that such a somber nature could lead to discomfort amongst the court, much less the people," Her mother insisted, now taking the opportunity to glance over her daughter's posture and complexion, both deemed acceptable, without the pocket-sized portrait of her future son-in-law to dissect. "We need a beautiful, young Royal couple, a Crown Princess and Prince Consort. Two people in love, or at least appearing to be, who shall inspire our nation to work hard and prosper as well. Prince Slane has that sort of face that could dampen even the brightest of occasions."

There wasn't much anyone could do about it now, and all three of them knew it. The scout had already returned with news of the Prince's approaching carriage and possibly entire retinue, so there was no time for last minute letters of dissolution. At least they'd agreed on a minimal welcoming party, mostly at Sonia's urgency. The full court could be overwhelming even to those accustomed to the life, and her father had been adamant that his brother and family be kept at bay at least for the initial meeting. When the Queen had complained about looking a fool in the eyes of the Camellian Royals without a full party, the King had retorted how the Duke tended to cause some sort of trouble when negotiations needed to go off without a hitch. Something Queen Valentina had clearly depended on, but was now left to fend for her daughter's success herself.

"King John Li and I have allied our countries in battle, and now we shall do so in marriage," King Alexandre repeated himself for what sounded like the fiftieth time in the past month, when the papers had been signed. "It is an excellent decision for both Sonia and this country. I'm not sure why the two of you have such reservations." With a wave of his hand, the various members of staff and security assigned to greet the newcomers fell into formation, forming a path for the immediate members of the Royal Family to proceed.

"It is a possibility that he may just be shy," Sonia finally contributed. Since she was little, she was accustomed to waiting to get a word in once her parents were truly incensed. "And despite the concerns, I'm not sure that this current conversation will lead to any sort of welcome for him. I'm the one who will be greeting him, after all. I hope that for a first impression, I may put my best foot forward."

Valentina's green eyes narrowed some in the direction of her husband and daughter. "You two seem to take great pleasure in going against me whenever possible," She insisted with thin-lipped smile. Out in the courtyard, all eyes were either upon the Royal Family or the line of carriages that had pulled to a stop, doors opening and their inhabitants preparing to disembark.

Sonia smiled in return. It was rare that, in some capacity, she actually agreed with her mother: this arranged marriage was a terrible idea. Even if their reasonings were very different. But she needed to take matters into her own hands without ruffling any feathers, and perhaps making a new friend out of the experience. She could hardly blame the young prince in these matters: for all she knew, Sonia thought as the horns erupted in the Royal Processional, he was just as opposed to the idea of arranged marriage as she was. "Her Royal Highness, Princess Sonia of Novoselic!" The Gerald announced, clearly just as uncomfortable as Queen Valentina was about the Princess, not the King, greeting her new fiancé first. Sonia, however, simply took a deep breath, held her head high, and smiled, walking past both of her parents down the long pathway to the carriages unaccompanied. No matter her feelings on the situation, there was no excuse to be rude and unwelcoming.

"Prince Slane Ying Li of Camellia, on behalf of myself, my family, the court, and the people, we welcome you to the Kingdom of Novoselic," Sonia greeted him kindly, her high-pitched tone clear as she smiled, dipping into an appropriate curtsy before rising back to her feet. From what she understood, it had likely been quite the journey for him after having examined the maps thoroughly. "Though outside of official appearances, please do call me 'Sonia.' The usage of titles in unnecessary situations tends to bring about unease for me, and it would be wonderful if we could be friends." That was sincere, in any case. Even if the idea of an arranged marriage would dissolve, she was quite happy and interested to make a new friend.

[spnirwin]

Nobody Fights Alone - Part 1

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader

Word Count: 1,717

Warnings: Mentions of cancer

A/N: We present to you the first installment in our angsty Eddie mini series! With bonus twin!Buck...just saying. This is a collaborative effort between myself and @anotherspnfanfic. If you want to see updates on your dash, throw us both a follow 😉 Let us know what you think!

You were standing in the kitchen washing the breakfast dishes as Eddie buzzed around you. He was shoving the things he would need for his shift at the 118 into his duffel bag. Everything seemed to be scattered in every corner of your shared apartment. 

“So, do you have anything planned for today?” he asked, pausing to glance up at you. 

“Not really,” you shrugged. “I might be grabbing lunch with Kelly but that’s it.”

“You should take some time to do something nice for yourself then. You've seemed a bit down lately and you’re always working so hard taking care of things around here. You deserve it.”

“Oh, my god, you sound like Evan,” you said, rolling your eyes. “He’s always saying I give too much, that I don’t take enough time for myself.”

“He’s right,” Eddie chuckled. “As your twin, he knows you better than anyone so you should probably listen to him. And me, because I know what I’m talking about, too,” he added, almost as an afterthought. 

You smiled and shook your head at him in response. Eddie left the room, presumably to try and figure out what was taking Christopher so long to get ready for school. As soon as he disappeared from sight, the smile dropped straight off of your face. You would be doing something for yourself today, but it was neither fun nor enjoyable. In fact, it was absolutely petrifying. 

A few minutes later Eddie reentered the room, Christopher in tow. “Go ahead and grab your backpack, buddy. We gotta go,” Eddie said as he walked over to you.

Your hands were stuck in the soapy, water filled sink when he approached you from the side. He rested one hand on your hip and looked at you earnestly. 

“Seriously, please take some time for yourself today. Even if it’s just to walk down the street and grab a coffee.”

“I will,” you said, nodding in agreement. He smiled and pressed a quick kiss to your lips, satisfied with your response.

Christopher had finished getting his things for school and was now waiting patiently for his dad. Eddie gave your hip a quick squeeze before crossing the apartment, grabbing his duffle, and meeting Christopher at the door. 

“Love you!” they both called out as they opened the door and stepped through. 

“Love you, too,” you called back, the door slamming shut behind them with an eerie finality. 

—

You looked around the doctor’s office, your leg bouncing up and down uncontrollably. To say you were nervous was an understatement. This was your second appointment this week. You had gone in for your yearly check-up, and while performing your routine breast exam the doctor had found a lump. Breast cancer was rare in women your age, but not an impossibility.

The door in front of you opened and a nurse stepped through, calling your name. You stood and followed her through the door and back to an exam room. Your nerves were skyrocketing when the doctor finally came and got you for your mammogram. When it was over, she returned you to the exam room where you waited again, this time for the results.

The waiting was the hardest part. You had waited three days between appointments, one hour in the waiting room, and now twenty minutes for your exam results. This was potentially just the beginning of the waiting, and it was already excruciating.

The doctor entered the room with a grim look on her face. She hadn’t liked what she had seen on the mammogram and wanted to do a biopsy. You would need to make an appointment with a specialist in a different part of the practice for a later date, but she wanted you to begin preparing now. Your head spun as you listened to her describe the procedure. It was pretty non-invasive, just a needle removing some cells that would be sent off to a lab and tested. You would be able to go home immediately after with slight swelling and minimal pain. The results would come back four days later. You could make your appointment with the secretary on the way out.

You walked back down the hallway toward the waiting room in a daze, unsure of how to process the information that had just been thrown at you. The doctor had insisted that there was nothing to worry about yet, but that did nothing to stop the influx of emotions that were currently coursing through your body. You stopped briefly at the front desk and made your next appointment for six days from the current one. Your motions were zombie-like as you exited the doctor’s office and headed home. 

—

You awoke the next morning feeling unsteady. You were having trouble processing. So you decided to pretend like everything was fine. 

This is exactly what you were doing when Eddie arrived home from his shift. He walked through the door and found you sitting at the kitchen table, joking with Christopher over chocolate chip pancakes. 

“Hey guys.” He walked over the table, stopping to ruffle Christopher’s hair and press a kiss to the top of your head. You put some pancakes onto his plate as he slid into his chair. 

“You have about five minutes until we have to leave for school,” you said to Christopher. He nodded in response before turning and starting to chatter at Eddie. 

While they talked, you pushed your pancake pieces around on your plate, not at all interested in actually eating them. You were so interested in looking down at your plate that you didn’t notice the small glances Eddie was shooting your way. 

“Alright, kiddo,” you said a few short minutes later. “Time to go.”

Christopher nodded, clearly disappointed, but stood anyway and walked to the counter to get his lunch. 

“I’ll clean this up,” Eddie said, gesturing to the breakfast remnants in front of you.

“Thanks,” you said. You moved to get up and follow Christopher but Eddie’s hand on your arm stopped you.

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep well last night.” You shot him a small smile and stood up. Eddie’s eyes tracked your back the entire way as you walked toward the front door. 

He sighed as it opened up and closed behind you. The smile that you had attempted to give him hadn’t reached your eyes. Something was wrong. 

—

You ran circles around Eddie for the next six days. Every time he questioned your mood you managed to skirt around it or give some half baked excuse as to why you were acting that way. You knew he was hurt by your behavior, but you didn’t want to tell him anything until you had definitive answers. That way he didn’t have to share in as much of the waiting. It would be easier for him. You didn’t want him to worry if it turned out to be nothing.

You sent him off to his shift with a bright smile on the morning of your biopsy appointment. As you drove to the doctor’s office, you couldn’t help but feel guilty. He deserved better than what you were currently giving him, but at the moment it was all you could manage. 

As soon as you arrived at the doctor’s office, you were whisked away for your biopsy. The procedure was relatively quick with minimal pain. You were slightly tender and swollen, but it wasn’t anything noticeable that would impact the rest of your day. Now, it was time for more waiting. 

You were driving home when your phone rang. When you answered you were slightly surprised to hear Athena’s voice on the other end of the line. 

“Hey girl, you up to anything pressing right now?” she asked. 

You considered her question carefully before responding. “No, I’m just heading home.”

“Well you better turn that car around and head this way. I’m at the station making lunch and I would love it if you would join. I could use some help in the kitchen and I know a couple boys that would love to see you.” 

It was an invitation you couldn’t deny. If you did, you knew she would say something to Eddie or Buck and then they would definitely know something was wrong. 

“I’ll be right over!” You brightened your voice and it rose an octave. 

As you hung up the phone and turned your car around in the direction of the station, you wondered when your life had suddenly become such a lie. 

—

You wandered across the apparatus floor on auto-pilot. All you could think about was the test results you were waiting for.

As you approached the stairs, Buck came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle. You startled at the touch and let out a surprised gasp.

He released you instantly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He smiled, apologetically. “What are you doing here?”

You ran your palm across your forehead as you organized your thoughts. “Uh, lunch. Athena called and told me she was cooking for you guys today.”

“Awesome. I think it’s going to be a little while before it’s ready, but she’s upstairs. Eddie was over rolling hoses last I saw him.” He pointed towards the side of the truck as he explained.

“Okay,” you said, turning to head up the stairs.

Buck placed a hand on your shoulder to keep you from turning away. “Are you alright? You seem distracted.”

You plastered a smile on as you nodded. “Yeah. It’s just been a long morning.”

You could see that he didn’t quite believe you but he let it go, for now. You continued up to greet Athena and thank her for the invite.

Eddie walked up next to Buck as you cleared the top step. Buck looked over at him before he looked back up. “Does she seem off to you?”

Eddie frowned. “Yeah, she’s been off all week. She didn’t even come say hi to me just now. Did she say anything to you about something going on?”

Buck shook his head. “No, just said it’s been a long morning.”

Eddie sighed as he headed over towards the weight room, deciding to give you some space until lunch was ready.

—

[rpbetter]

Traditional Writing Advice & RP

I see a lot of people reblogging writing advice posts, and while it pleases me to see people trying to appreciate RP as writing, those pieces of advice don’t always translate from traditional writing to RP writing.

Following the advice for writing a traditional book manuscript you want to have published, you are going to run into some issues if you follow every point of it faithfully in an RP setting.

For one thing, this isn’t just your story, you’re telling it with another writer. In RP, our reading audience and our writing partners are the same. We have to create well-written, engaging stories that are also meant to be picked up by someone else and furthered. For another, even among the most writing proficient RPers, this is a more relaxed style of writing for a reason; we’re writing neither a paper to be graded nor a work to be published, we’re expressing creativity with other people. It can fall flat quickly, to your writing partners and to yourself, if you are writing in an extremely formal manner in RP.

Writing is one of the creative pursuits that has lent itself heavily to what I’m going to politely call snobbery, and that is part of the problem here. The RPC is rather filled with muns who are self-concious, devalue themselves and their work, and can be desperate for the approval of being A Real Writer. If you love writing and you do write, you’re a writer. No, that definitely doesn’t make you a good writer, but following rules not meant for you isn’t going to make you one either.

There is a wrong way to write, actually, there are hundreds of wrong ways to write that make me want to rip my own face off on the regular. The thing is, there is no one-size-fits-all correct way to write any more than there is such a standard in visual art. There are principles that one should know and follow, but your style might be neoclassical or modern or impressionist. Saying that, in my personal opinion, things falling under the heading of modern-style art is horrid, thus inherently wrong and not art, I’d be imposing my personal aesthetics instead of encouraging people to follow appropriate principles, run with their passion and skill, and make art that moves people who are not me. That’s important, in general, but it’s even more important when we’re talking about creative art as a hobby-as a legitimate passion project one isn’t obliged to devote themselves to.

That’s the way we need to be looking at writing as well. Not as an academic and absolute Right Way, but as an art form that has principles, and indeed, literal form. By insisting otherwise, we’ve damaged writing as a hobby and a profession, and it really shows in the RPC where you have a rather stark division of muns who, on the one side, are so ate up with bizarre concepts their professor threw out about never using “said,” forcing the ideology of their personal academic experience on others, and using traditional writing advice as Word of God to shame others and elevate themselves. On the other side, you have a ton of muns who just won’t even bother anymore, and why should they? They’re genuinely not up to par, but working on it means both a process of shaming and killing their own creative experience.

In saying all this, I want to be really clear here: I am in no way saying that shitty writing, an inability to follow basic grammatical principles, being unwilling to use the damn spellcheck that is standard everywhere, and having no concept of things like storytelling, characterization, and word flow is excusable or ideal. 

It isn’t. It’s a terribly destructive force in the RPC, and I’m not in the camp of excusing disinterest in learning, improving, and perfecting one’s hobby because it is an unpaid hobby. In my opinion, it’s part of the blight of the current RPC. However, the snobbery and inability to recognize that there is nuance to learning and writing situations has done nothing but worsen this issue.

So, that being said, some items that are 100% good to use traditionally and in RP include:

Grammar, spelling, and punctuation.

We’re not all native English speakers, and grammar is difficult anyway. It can also turn a story bland with expedience when too properly adhered to. Know the basic principles, but also, be asking yourself about both popular works of fiction and your own favorite works. Chances are, they do not strictly adhere to the rules. Experienced, naturally gifted, and learned writers all manipulate those rules to work for their stories, characters, world-building, and so on. It becomes a personalized writing style, and it’s alright if it takes you some practice to find yours.

Just remember, grammar exists for a reason. Removing or mutating too much will leave you with a difficult to read and understand mess that isn’t a style, just a fucking mess.

If you struggle with grammar, the best way to help yourself is to practice. Additionally, seeing what errors you are making can be quite helpful; Grammarly offers a free add on for both Google Chrome and FireFox that will show you spelling and grammar mistakes. It also explains the mistake, while offering you a suggested fix. This way, you can see the mistakes you’re making in action. {Presumably, there are other such resources, but since I have no experience with them, I’m not the one to recommend them.}

As I said above, spellcheckers are standard now, in fucking 2021. This has been standard on devices and browsers for so long that I highly doubt most people on tumblr even remember a time when you had to use additional software to have them.

You make a mistake or misspell, and if it isn’t corrected for you, it’s underlined very obviously for you to tap/click/float over to correct. If the word is so terribly misspelled that no suggestion comes up {not all spellcheckers are created equality; some do not recognize slang or relaxed spellings, archaic word use, myriad, particularly specialized jargon-legal, medical, technical-and so on}, we also live in a time period where we can highlight the word, right-click that bitch, and select from the menu the option to search for the word. If the word was so weirdly misspelled that your checker couldn’t figure it out, it is incredibly rare that Google doesn’t throw out the correct spelling when you search it. If the spelling was correct, but the word-use is slang, jargon, or archaic, Google is also going to tell you that-you’ve confirmed it is correct, and can now decide if you want to use it or pick a possible synonym for it instead.

There is no fucking excuse for egregiously misspelled words anymore. None. I mean...listen, I spell quite terribly myself, but no one reading my RP replies is ever going to know that fact. Having difficulty with spelling is not, and has not been for a very long time now, an impediment to writing.

Furthermore, we all miss a typo here and there, especially if we write lengthy novella. Those aren’t always going to be caught by spellcheck, and we might edit the reply five times without seeing it. That happens, it’s alright when it’s minimal! Anything other than that, though, it’s just a combination of rushing and laziness. You really couldn’t be assed to take your time with that reply, read it over at least once before posting, and/or to click the underlined word.

There. Is. No. Excuse.

Again, not all spellcheckers are the same. If you feel like yours is lacking, try an extension for your browser. Since I said it above, I obviously have Grammarly on my mine. My replies effectively go through three different checkers, actually. I write all drafts outside of my browser where it is initially checked by Pages, then, when I paste it into tumblr, it’s being checked natively and by Grammarly. It wasn’t my intention, I just wanted to be positive I was never losing a draft or cooking my ancient laptop with Google Docs. However, it’s been nice as hell to get the perspective of multiple checkers, and as such, I definitely recommend it. It isn’t like I’m putting any extra effort into this, and I’m not paying for Grammarly, either.

When you refuse to behoove yourselves of the spellchecker natively available to you, at least, you’re seriously telling your writing partners that they were not important enough for you to click a fucking word. It’s inexcusable.

Punctuation being nonexistent isn’t a writing style or aesthetic, neither is a refusal to capitalize anything. If never using a comma is part of your Aesthetic™, please, rethink your fucking life and the hobby you’ve chosen.

Punctuation is a part of grammar, and I understand that there can be complexities present that might be confusing. That is one of the reasons why you should bother to know the basics as regards when and how to use punctuation. It’s also another way in which telling people that they should adhere to advice meant for traditional and academic writing can be a shit idea. Especially in an RPC known to misunderstand shit and go overboard.

When you tell the RPC that writers use too many commas, the RPC stops using them all around. Especially, when you also attach this to the idea of evil “wordiness.” That’s something that the RPC is desperate to avoid anyway, as the majority of people here are allergic to reading and writing; anything you advise that lessens the word count for them is going to be grabbed and erroneously applied. Someone implies that wordiness and commas equals run-on sentences, and the RPC gets not only believes it, it gets this message, “if I take out the commas, it isn’t a run-on sentence.”

You have all fundamentally misunderstood what a god damned run-on sentence is. It’s not a long sentence, it isn’t a proliferation of commas. A run-on sentence is when two, or more, sentences that should be individual are conjoined without proper punctuation {a fucking comma, for example} or a coordinating conjunction.

Run-ons can be surprisingly short, in fact. As in the example I lifted from here, “I love to write papers I would write one every day if I had the time.“

That should be written with a comma, separated into two sentences, or broken with a comma and the conjunction “and.” It’s also what I see incessantly on my dash from this bizarre idea that we shouldn’t be using commas. That a run-on sentence is a very long one separated only by commas. That is literally not what a run-on sentence is.

You absolutely can use too many commas {if you want to read some examples of how to use commas, go here}, but I rarely see anyone doing so to such an extreme. The extreme being that a sentence becomes a nonsensical string of conjoined thoughts, ideas, and descriptions that could have been written better broken up into fully formed sentences. I sometimes see muns who go a little nuts with commas by putting them in wildly incorrect places in this way.

What I see constantly is either muns berating themselves for perfectly normal, readable sentence structure or muns reactively using no punctuation at all.

It is all legitimate run-on sentences or those made so short and blunt that they become nonsensical, change the tone of the writing, or have no flow together.

Which brings me to...

Sentence flow is a thing, and you should be doing it.

Unfortunately, this good writing advice tends to throw people. We’re not talking about the flow that needs to be present in academic sentence structure, or exactly the flow that is present in poetry. Though it may require practice to understand and apply well, it’s an incredibly simple concept.

You want to balance out shorter, blunter sentences with those that are longer and more flowing. It gives the text a pleasant, natural rhythm. However, it isn’t just about length, a thing that the RPC is weirdly fixated on. Rather, it’s about word use within those sentences as well.

It’s always important to write with a tone that works with your scene and, overall, with your muse. For example, in a tense, aggressive scene, or with a muse who is generally this way, it gets the message across to use short sentences and clipped words. We can feel the tension, annoyance, and threat.

Furthermore, the way your muse thinks about and uses words is relevant. A well-educated muse from the 1800′s isn’t going to have the same approach to words that a modern-day high school student does. You should be making that clear in the way they speak, but also, in the way you express their thoughts and actions. If you are only writing your muse’s personality and emotional tone when your muse is speaking, you’re not giving me the tone all the way through. It can feel like a marked delineation in flow.

However, you should be considering the overall flow of your writing as well. Did you just lay down back-to-back eloquently verbose sentences? If so, you may want to either follow them up or space them with a shorter sentence comprised of simpler words.

This is legitimately good writing advice for any manner of writing.

So is...

Show, don’t tell.

Which is another piece of advice that throws people when they try to make it more complex than necessary. That, and it grates up against the RPC’s need for short, quick writing. The idea that anything a mun gives you that your muse cannot react to verbally or with action is filler to be avoided. That idea comes from some principle advice that translates badly to RP; essentially, don’t wax poetic for three pages when it has nothing to do with the plot, characters, scene-setting elements, action, and so on. Don’t be Tolkien describing every tree and rock in excruciating detail on the way to destroy the One Ring, basically.

That isn’t fully appropriate advice in RP, where we’re having to write tiny chapters to each other to add onto. While it still has some merit, the RPC definitely has taken it to mean that you shouldn’t show anything. My muse’s private thoughts, emotions expressed and unexpressed, stirred-up memories, things they planned to say/do, but that were naturally interrupted by the flow of the thread all become Unnecessary. With...no mind to what they are showing and creating.

This particularly erodes writing muses as legitimate feeling people. As in the last example of what my muse intended to say or do that was interrupted. That’s a normal, human experience. It would be difficult and not enjoyable to read every instance of a muse’s broken thoughts and impulses or intentions, but giving one every so many replies in a natural feeling way keeps my muse presenting as a real person having a real person’s experience. Simple things like this go a long way toward your muse being “believable,” and by ignoring them or refusing to do them, you’re not making your muse very realistic. So much of the human experience is private, unknowable to outside parties.

Look...if you only knew me based upon a sterilized version of what I was saying to you or doing purely within the context of single interaction at a time, you wouldn’t know me at all. You’d have no idea what sort of nuance there is in my words, how I am expressing or withholding an opinion or emotion. I may not have any opinions, emotions, or other experiences that you are not contributing to. That’s very unrealistic, I’m not actually a person anymore. I haven’t any personality, I didn’t exist before you interacted with me.

That is the way it is with muses too. By stripping them of their internal experiences, we’re stripping them of more realistic feeling characterization. {It becomes, or adds to, a disastrous domino-effect of projected, cardboard stand-in style muses that are in no way a joy to interact with.} This is bad writing, makes for bad reading and interacting.

No one seems to understand show, don’t tell. Let me put it in a simple example: don’t tell me your muse is a good person, show me. Don’t tell me your muse is upset right now, show me.

Your muse has character traits you feel makes them A Good Person. They are compassionate, selfless, and genuinely interested in others. Don’t just leave that in the muse’s bio, or relegate it to statement-style lines like, “she cared deeply about others.” Show me these traits in action and thought. You don’t require anything dramatic to it, either. A muse like this should be a good listener, proceed with their love language in a way reflects personal involvement and a desire to comfort, be willing to sacrifice time and personal interests {don’t keep it to dramatic and literal self-sacrifice to show “selfless”}, legitimately doesn’t think of themselves first and foremost and may need reminding to care for themselves, and will be troubled by unfairness and cruelty in the world.

Your muse has been in a disagreement with a loved one, they’re not just “upset,” they are sad, angry, disappointed, and maybe even confused or surprised. While those are more descriptive and defining of the type of complex “upset” going on here, don’t leave it at these words. Don’t tell me that she said, angrily. Show me that she is having thoughts based on these emotions, actual emotional turmoil at her expectations of a loved one being devastated. Paint me a picture of the sadness in her features, the anger in her walk, how her words come out unpolished and jumbled in her surprise and turmoil.

This is what it means to show me, not tell me.

It also extends to scenes and recollections.

If your muse is happy sitting in her garden, don’t just tell me this. Show me why she is happy there, and define the sort of happiness in her thoughts, body language, voice, and expressions. Describe the aspects of the garden in tones of the happiness they bring, draw comparisons between this and her outward expression of joy with similar word use. It ties together both seamlessly in a way that we can relate to and feel, even if we hate the outdoors.

If this muse had a traumatic incident in her past, this is going to inconveniently come up, even if only in her mind. Don’t play coy about it and drop shit on your partners like, “she was thinking of things and stuff that was bad again.” No. Even if you are alluding or otherwise keeping the actual event secretive, you need to be describing how the muse is feeling, how she is experiencing the world around her through an overlay of upsetting reminders. Show me how she is having a visceral reaction to triggering stimuli while having to keep working or talking.

Additionally, even when your muse isn’t experiencing the scene you have set directly, you should show me instead of telling me about it.

Since my actual least favorite PSA on how it’s better to just tell people because no one wants to read “all that” deals with rain, we’re going to as well. Because it doesn’t have to be excessively descriptive to fucking show me it’s raining or has rained instead of just stating the fact.

Not, “it was raining.” Not, “it was wet outside.”

“In between her words, the distant, wall-dampened splash of cars driving through puddles.”

“He passed by windows beaded with moisture on his way to the kitchen.”

Wow, that was so complex, really a lot to read to get the idea that it is, or has been, raining outside without me directly telling you this!

There isn’t anything wrong with being more descriptive than this {nor is there anything wrong with using the word “rain,” so long as you’re backing it up with a description}, some of us do like to read and write about things like oil-slicked puddles in the street if our muse is seeing them or it is otherwise relevant. It’s just that you don’t have to do this, or have to do it at all times, to show instead of tell. This is yet another serious misunderstanding.

It isn’t that the description is often really that excessive, it’s more often that it is irrelevant to the extreme of sticking out weirdly. In the puddle thing, if my muse isn’t seeing it and/or I am not using that description to further experience, their mindset, personality, or tying it to an analogy later in the reply, it feels weird.

Some superfluous shit isn’t bad either, and superfluous can be purely subjective. It is, again, when it is to such an extreme as to leave your writing partner feeling oddly about a point in the text that seemed to ring with importance, but then held none. That isn’t an act of showing or telling, and neither is it your partner trying to show off as a gifted writer. For whatever reason, they just saw or felt that moment with such passionate clarity they had to include it immediately instead of waiting until a better moment for it. That’s literally it, there’s no need to project your insecurity in weird ass ways.

There are definitely other pieces of traditional-based writing advice that are great and either do transfer to RP perfectly or can with small amendments, but these are the most basic, commonly seen, and important combinations. They are also easy to better understand and apply!

When reading writing advice posts, please, ask yourself how they fit into RP. If they do at all. Many times, when it comes to the absolute basics of writing coherently and enjoyably, or developing characters, they’re great. It’s when they get into topics of some nuance that they don’t cross over so well and are outright damaging.

These pieces of advice are often being misunderstood or misapplied already, then are being passed around to a community notorious for its lacking application of critical thinking. Severe misunderstanding will happen, and terrible writing “rules” within the RPC develop from them.

Do be interested in writing, don’t separate traditional writing and RP writing into categories like “real writing and RP,” be invested in learning and improving. Just ask yourself how it applies to cooperative storytelling that is often thematic in nature, and proceed with caution and the mindset that writing is an art.

If you have the principles down and both yourself and others are enjoying your writing, you’re not doing it in an inherently wrong way because it wouldn’t be published. You’re not writing RP to have it published, and that’s not a bad thing. It’s just a difference to keep in mind when reading PSA’s about the Rules of Writing Whatever. 

[lastsonlost]

Why do I feel like I'm being held hostage more than I feel like I'm being helped?

The party of limited government and fiscal prudence is suddenly in favor of a big bailout and stimulus package for the economy — now, immediately, no time to debate! But when Barack Obama was president and the economy was in free fall, when the unemployment rate was surging towards 10% (instead of today's 3.5%, though it's expected to rise rapidly), Republicans were in no hurry to pass a stimulus package. 

They dragged their feet, the Tea Party protested in the streets, and the GOP worried oh-so-piously about the size of the federal budget deficit. Now that a Republican is president (and an election’s coming up), Republicans want a broad and rapid bailout of the economy. Just give us over $1 trillion, and trust President Donald Trump (whose companies went bankrupt six times) to do the right thing! 

Lots of Americans are already hurting. They should be helped, and yes, the economy is at a precipice and needs a stimulus package. But the priority should be helping Americans — not helping the GOP win an election. And given the massive amount of money involved, we should take a little extra time to do it right. My concern is not with payments to ordinary Americans, or to help local small businesses, but with the corporate bailout package. The Democrats must condition their cooperation with any corporate bailout package (and/or corporate tax cuts) upon the inclusion of some common-sense fixes.

Here are a few:

►Protecting Obamacare. Trump and the Republicans are (yet again) trying to get the Supreme Court to declare the Affordable Care Act unconstitutional (though it now insures 21 million Americans and protects everyone's access to coverage, including the tens of millions with preexisting medical conditions). If the court strikes it down in late 2020 or early 2021, while coronavirus might still be raging through the country, our health care system could be reduced to chaos. 

Sen. Elizabeth Warren: Any Coronavirus bailout must put workers first

To prevent this disaster scenario, as part of the bailout package, the Trump administration should withdraw its support for the lawsuit and commit to fixing and defending the law. If Republicans are serious about a bipartisan response to coronavirus, this is an obvious place to start.

►Election protection. Many Americans are concerned that Trump (who asked a foreign power to investigate one of his political rivals, and applauded Wikileaks’ violation of his political opponents’ privacy) might use coronavirus as an excuse to interfere with the November elections. Any bailout package must mandate a robust vote-by-mail program in place before the November election (Sens. Ron Wyden and Amy Klobuchar have already introduced this) and protection against foreign interference (a bipartisan Marco Rubio-Chris Van Hollen bill is stalled in the Senate). Congress should also require monthly reports on election protection efforts.

►Help for workers, not shareholders or CEOs. Any corporate bailouts must be judged on the merits, with minimal crony capitalism and political interference. Give the Trump administration as little discretion as possible — no American should be forced to grovel and flatter Trump to get what they’re legally entitled to.  Any corporation receiving a bailout should be required to wipe out all shareholder equity, zero out all CEO deferred compensation packages, and replace its top five corporate officers as well as its entire board of directors.

Why? Reputable experts have been warning about the economic and business risks of pandemics for years. If business leaders didn’t prepare their organizations, they own the consequences. This needs to hurt in order to make sure investors and executives learn a lesson. Also, if the government injects any equity into a corporation, government ownership should be non-voting (otherwise, imagine Trump ordering a major employer to close factories in blue states, to move jobs to red states). 

►Increase funds for the IRS and provide new resources focused on auditing the rich.  Republicans have systematically under-funded the IRS. Outside estimates suggest that with stepped-up enforcement, the government could collect an extra $100 billion a year in taxes (mainly from the wealthy). The next several years will likely be difficult for ordinary Americans. They‘re entitled to know that everyone (including the rich) will pay what they owe. 

Bipartisan priorities: 3 ways to increase economic growth, make American society more equitable

►Limit Trump’s ability to govern by emergency order and "acting" appointments.  Congress refused to allocate funds for Trump’s border wall, but he went ahead anyway using money from military programs — and the Supreme Court let him do it. Trump has also used the Federal Vacancies Act in a way that makes a mockery of congressional oversight  and the Senate's constitutional "advice and consent" responsibility to confirm nominees (for instance, the current Acting Director of National Intelligence is also our Ambassador to Germany). Congress should include in this package whatever amendments are necessary to prevent these end-runs.

►Bake in strong rules and oversight. Any bailout package must include these to prevent it from being used as a slush fund to bolster political fortunes. 

Democrats likely won’t get everything they ask for. But this time around, Republicans are desperate to bail out their election chances. The Democrats should use that desperation to get some common-sense reforms passed.

[fandom-necromancer]

1438 + 1414. “Would you just hold still?” “Oh my god, please don’t tell them.”

Now to the second story prompted by the lovely anon! I like this one better. Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: gun violence, android getting shot, android being repaired while temporary paralysed)

[part2]   [part3]

Nines couldn’t keep his LED from spinning red for a full circle, watching Detective Reed picking the lock in front of them. He had deliberately taken the position furthest away from the man, right behind Detective Collins and next to Miller. He didn’t like him, he would even go that far to say he hated him. It was evident Reed was anti-android to the bone. Nines knew from Connor that he had repeatedly hit him, pulled guns on him several times, never had shown even an ounce of compassion for an android, even as they had been slaughtered in the revolution and even now, he was still openly hostile. Nines hated the way he called him names and it was even worse with other androids in the precinct. Even with their rights granted by the humans, they had to stand together, so this was only another reason to detest the man.

He hadn’t liked taking Reed with him on a mission, but they needed backup on this, and the human was surprisingly competent. What he demonstrated yet again, clicking the lock open and holding the door for them to advance. Without a word, Nines hurried past him, mind already back on the task at hand: Finding and capturing their suspect. It was a thirty-two-year-old male who lost his job and took to offering services of the illegal kind: mostly robberies in the beginning, but soon his crimes escalated. They had him caught once already, but he had managed to escape by shooting the police officers who had been arresting him. Since then Nines was searching for him. And today he would make sure, the human wouldn’t get away a second time.

Nines advanced deeper into the building the man had chosen as a hideout and kept scanning his surroundings for any sign of his presence. But they could inspect the whole building without interruption. Apparently, the man wasn’t home. The group ended up in a room that looked like his base of operation: Weapons were lying around, none of them registered or owned by their suspect. They were joined by a Laptop without internet access that Nines interfaced with. His data wasn’t well protected, likely because he had never expected someone to get their hand on his computer, so it was easy for Nines to find even more of his illegal activities. He was already in the process of securing it all in a package to send to the DPD as evidence, when he hear the door open and a hissed: ‘Oh shit.’ Immediately he had his gun out and aimed, shouting: ‘DPD, don’t move!’ But the man wasn’t about to listen to him. He had his own weapon out, a machine pistol that he shot two times at Nines as the most aggressive opponent, and darted. Miller and Collins were immediately following the fleeing suspect, while Nines held onto the table with the laptop not to fall. He failed, dropping to the floor. It was a wonder he hadn’t tipped over the table in the process. The android was too occupied finding the wound through the steady stream of blue blood and noticed too late how the remaining Detective knelt down in front of him. Nines tried to scoot away from him, suddenly afraid this was what the man had been waiting for. He was in an ideal position to kill him and blame it on the wound later.

But there were strong hands at his sides, pulling him back. Nines resisted the hold and struggled against the grip only for it to get eve harder, Gavin using his body weight to press him down. ‘Phcking tin-can… Would you just hold still?’ ‘So you can kill me?’, Nines pressed against the static. ‘Never!’ Reed sighed, getting a hold of the android’s arms and pinning them against the table with one hand. The other found a knife laying around and Nines knew, this was how it would end. He awaited the long blade to be pierced in between his hull and his thirium regulator, but to his surprise, it only faintly touched him as it was pulled through the fabric of his shirt. Too perplexed to notice, the human had already pushed in the right places only a Cyberlife engineer would know and his chest opened. Again, the mortified thought arose that maybe Reed was someone who had fun in dragging it out? He had all the time in the world after all, with Miller and Collins gone until they got their suspect safely in a car. He bucked his hips again and tried to pull his arms away to get away and run from this lunatic, or at least close his chest cavity again, but it was no use. With low thirium levels his movements were sluggish already and whatever Gavin had done to him counted as a manual override.

There was another sigh, before one of his hands disappeared in his chest and dug around for a specific cable. Nines eyes went wide, and he tried his best to get this human away from him, but Gavin simply ducked under his arms he had let go to have two hands to operate and pulled. Nines immediately went slack and watched in terror how Gavin wiped away his sweat and smeared thirium all over his forehead. ‘maybe now you’ll finally let me help you, jeez’, he mumbled, quickly getting to work. Nines watched how he cut into his shirt again, ending up with a long, thirium soaked stripe of cloth he wrapped around a thirium pipe and fastened with just enough force to seal it but not break it even further. Immediately Nines’ thirium levels stabilised with a minimal leakage. But Gavin wasn’t finished yet, rummaging in his chest, opening valves for backup-pipes and adjusting the power of his pump until he had successfully bypassed the damaged part completely. As a last action, Gavin pulled out the damaged tube and set it down next to him. All of that he had managed in under an hour. Nines would have been impressed, had he not been this surprised.

Gavin sat back, still straddling the android and breathed, before frowning at him. Only then he remembered the pulled wire and was quick to reconnect it, closing the compartment afterwards. But still Nines just sat up a bit, staring at him, not moving otherwise. ‘What?’, Gavin spat. ‘You didn’t kill me.’ Nines made no effort to hide how surprised he was. ‘I didn’t- What?’ Gavin looked at him as if he just told him the world was flat. ‘You had the chance to get rid of me.’ ‘Why the hell would I do that?’ ‘You hate androids.’

Gavin leant back, rubbing his eyes in defeat. ‘Toaster. I hate Connor. I hate Cyberlife. I don’t hate androids and I don’t hate you. And even if I did, killing one? Excuse me, how much of an asshole did you think I am? Okay, don’t answer that, I think I got the message. Phcking ungrateful piece of shit.’

Finally, the human got up from the android, kicked the broken pipe away and stomped out of the room. Only a few minutes later Miller and Collins came back, completely out of breath. ‘Shit Nines!’, Chris cursed, dropping next to him. ‘Sorry we couldn’t come any faster, we finally caught the bastard and had to wait for Tina to come and pick him up. God, if I had known…’ ‘Where’s Gavin the asshole?’, Collins asked, looking around deliberately trying not to look at the puddle of blue blood underneath Nines. ‘Running off without even trying to help, that’s so him. We’re so sorry, are you alright? Do you need help?’ Nines shook his head, but Chris helped him up anyways. They both hovered around him on their way outside, where they met Gavin, smoking a cigarette. Nines wordlessly walked towards the waiting police car, while Chris and Collins stayed behind to yell at the Detective. ‘What do you think you are doing?’ ‘Nines was in there bleeding out and you go for a smoke?’ ‘What the fuck is wrong with you, seriously?’ ‘I’ll tell Fowler, don’t you think you can get away with this.’

Unimpressed, Gavin pushed himself off the wall and threw the cigarette to the ground pushing it out with his boot. ‘Go phck yourselves, guys’, he groaned, walking past them, Nines and the car down the street. ‘What are you doing?’, the android shouted at him, what the Detective answered by showing him his middle finger and shouting back: ‘Gonna call a taxi back.’

As soon as the man entered the precinct later, Nines was on his way to pull him to the side. Not only because Fowler was on the lookout for him, but also because he wanted to talk to him. ‘What is it now, tin-can?’, he asked, clearly tired of talking. ‘How did you know how to bypass a thirium system component correctly?’ ‘I’m Elijah Kamski’s brother’, Gavin stated as if that was the most normal thing in the world. ‘If you live with him for a while you pick up a few things.’ He suddenly froze. ‘Oh my god, please don’t tell them! Although… I guess they wouldn’t believe you anyways.’ Nines shook his head. ‘I guess not, I hardly believe you. Why even save me? You hate us.’ ‘Because you are alive, dipshit!’, Gavin shouted then, annoyed that they even needed to have this conversation. ‘Because you are a living person, damnit, a colleague. Because… God, you don’t have to find reasons for saving someone’s life, you just do it. Is that so difficult to understand?’ He groaned. ‘Listen, I’m no different than Miller or Anderson or anyone in this precinct deep down. I am just a human, just a person that wants to do good. If everyone decides I’m the bad guy so be it. But I don’t have to explain myself when I already know no one’s listening. So, go back to your good people and do your job. I did mine.’

He shoved Nines in the chest and walked away, straight into Fowlers arms and likely another suspension. It made the android think about what he had thought about the human and how wrong he had been to blindly follow Connor’s evaluation. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t right. In a fit of spite he knew he might regret later, he sat down at the empty desk opposite to Gavin’s, waiting patiently for his return. He enjoyed the frowning faces of those passing him by, but none of them as much as Gavin’s completely dumbfounded expression. ‘Alright, what is that supposed to be?’ ‘I listened to you’, Nines simply said, before standing up. ‘Come tomorrow Fowler will have revoked your suspension and you will become my partner.’ ‘What?’ ‘There’s nothing you can do about it.’

[>next part]

[psychovigilantewrites]

Chapter 11 - Fireworks/Gunpowder

Pairing: Jason Todd/ Reader

Genre:Smut

Wordcount: 10,348

A/N: Hey guys! GOD I've been looking forward to write this chapter ever since I first published this fic a year ago, and I took my time with it, and tried to perfect it as best as I could according to my current capabilities. I hope you guys like it! Please leave your thoughts! I’d love to hear what you guys think of it!

TW: sexual content, mental breakdowns

Masterlist

“I’m sorry I’m late,” you breathed out before Jason could even open his mouth, “I would say that school held me back, but actually I lost track of time.”

You wanted to minimize your lying to him, since you had to hide a huge part of yourself from him already.

“That’s alright, sweetheart,” he grinned at you.

You sat down opposite him at the cafe. The table Jason had chosen was one in the back, away from the large glass walls up front with the view of the street.

Jason was wearing a tight black t-shirt that day and a black leather jacket over it. The leather immediately made you think of Red Hood, but you tried to shove that thought away. It was rude to think of another man while you were with someone you were casually dating, after all.

“Do you want me to get you anything?” he asked, gesturing to the counter.

“That’s alright, I’ll go get something myself,” you made to get up.

“Now what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you order your own drink?” he stopped you, flashing you a lopsided smile, “Tell me what you usually get, I’ll go and order it for you. Please?”

He looked at you with his pleading blue eyes, which made you give in almost instantly.

“Alright,” you conceded, “I’ll just have a black coffee, then. Thank you.”

“One black coffee comin’ right up,” he winked, heading to the counter.

You watched him as he walked over, noticing the subtle glances some women from the other tables were giving him. He stood out mainly because of his build, but you thought that his face was your favourite part of him.

You didn’t mean to be shallow, of course. He was kind, funny, and charming as well. And as you just found out, a gentleman.

He came back with your coffee, and you thanked him again.

“Firstly, Jason,” you began, “I’m sorry for replying you so late. Two days late, to be exact.”

“No, that’s alright,” he shrugged it off, “I’m sure you had a good reason.”

“I was going through some… stuff,” you cringed at your own excuse.

“Stuff?” he smirked.

“And things,” you added, “Personal things. Family things. You get me?”

“Sure,” he acknowledged, “Like I said, I’m sure you had your reasons. But, if you want to talk about it, you know I wouldn’t mind lending you an ear.”

“I feel like I’ve been dumping too much on you,” you shook your head, “Like that time at the park too, god. It was so embarrassing.”

“One, that was over a month ago,” he reminded you, “And two, it wasn’t. Don’t be afraid to express yourself with me.”

He looked at you with an intensity you couldn’t tear your eyes away from.

“All of yourself,” he added, “I won’t judge.”

You were taken aback at his sudden seriousness. But when he reached his hand out to gently rest on yours, for some reason, you expected his hands to feel like the smooth cold leather of the gloves Red Hood wore.

You willed your thoughts to stay on the man in front of you.

“Thank you,” you said, “But this time it’s not something I should be discussing with anyone. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he answered, “It’s up to you if you want to tell me or not. All I’m saying is that if you need to talk to anyone, I’m here.”

You smiled at him in thanks.

“ Also,” he added, “You were doing some MMA?”

He lifted your hand closer to inspected your bruised knuckles.

“No,” you gave a shaky laugh, “Since I was going through some things, I needed to find an outlet. So I went berserk on a punching bag.”

It was the closest and most honest thing you could say to him.

“I see,” he chuckled and gave you a knowing look, something you thought was odd. You hadn’t missed the way he was smirking the whole time you were there.

“I’m sorry,” you hesitated, “But am I missing something here?”

“What?” he frowned.

“I feel like you know something I don’t,” you tried to explain, “Like there’s an inside joke I’m not getting.”

“Why would you think that?” he leaned forward and smiled suspiciously.

“See, you’re doing it again!” you laughed.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, princess,” he grinned, “This is how I always look.”

“Huh,” you narrowed your eyes playfully at him.

“Did I mention how beautiful you look today?” he complimented.

“Way to change the subject,” you chuckled, “But thank you. I put in effort whenever I know I’m seeing you.”

You blushed the minute you realised what you just said.

“Uh- I meant-” you tried to backtrack.

“Too late to go back on your words now, sweetheart,” he chortled, “That’s okay, I kind of make an effort when I know I’ll be seeing you as well.”

“Oh, really?” you doubted. You thought he just naturally looked good all the time, which includes the first day you bumped into him in the library.

The library.

Jerome Miller.

Blood. Adrenaline rush. Excitement. Guilt.

You pushed it all away for now and tune back into your conversation.

“Oh, you have no idea,” his eyes suddenly darkened, his smile gone.

But within an instant, he gave you his smug grin again.

He loved to tease you.

“You know,” you started, “You never told me your last name. Is there something you’re hiding from me?”

“No, you just never asked,” he replied, “It’s Haywood.”

“Jason Haywood,” you tried, “Has a ring to it, don’t you think?”

“I never cared much for it,” he shrugged, “My first name is extremely common. My last? Nothing special. Nothing like Wayne.”

“Please, it’s all just legal anyway,” you waved your hand, “Not like I’m a Wayne by blood.”

“Still, Bruce Wayne is your father,” he pointed out.

“Don’t say that too loud,” you shushed him, “I’m not at the point where people would recognize me in the streets, but one Google search and I’d have people taking pictures of the both of us and sell it to the tabloid papers.”

“Ah, yes, I can see the headlines already,” he joked, “Billionaire Bruce Wayne’s daughter seen with a nobody. You wouldn’t believe number five!”

“A newspaper headline isn’t clickbait, Jason,” you giggled. You were impressed. Only a few months ago, he didn’t know what Instagram was.

“I’m real proud of you, you know,” he suddenly told you, making another 180 turn in subject. He looked at you with a curious glint in his eye.

“For what?” you asked, sipping on your coffee.

“For being you,” he gave you a cryptic answer.

You raised an eyebrow in question.

“You don’t try to hide yourself from me,” he elaborated, “You cry in front of me, laugh in front of me, joke with me, and you let your inhibitions go when you’re with me.”

Your eyes widen at the last one, knowing what he was implying.

“ As a Wayne,” he continued, “I’m sure you need to lie and smile to keep up appearances. But you’re yourself with me. Thank you.”

You blushed as your heart melted at his words. This was one of the reasons you liked him. He was a smooth talker, charming you with random bursts of surprisingly well thought insight.

“I don’t know what to say,” you tucked your hair behind your ear nervously.

“How about ‘Jason, I think you’re a sexy beast, and I’d totally tap that ass’,” he jestered.

“You see, I know you’re just joking, but I wouldn’t be if I were to say that to you,” you replied smugly.

Jason paused, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Someone learned how to flirt,” he smirked.

“I learned from the best,” you breathed.

You saw the way his eyes darted from yours, to your lips, and then back to your eyes again.

“My brother, actually,” you broke the moment on purpose.

He chuckled at your transition.

The hours went by as you talked and flirted with him, all the while still noticing how he was smirking the whole way, as if he knew something about you that you didn’t.

*** God, you turned Jason on so much.

It was obvious you were still messed up and shocked over your own actions, but when Jason saw your bruised knuckles, he almost popped a hard on right then and there in the crowded cafe.

He wanted so much to witness you beating the shit out of Jerome Miller. He could only imagine how your face and hands must have been covered in blood.

Jason never had a blood kink before this, but somehow the thought was so erotic to him, he would be lying if he didn’t go back and jerk off to that fantasy right after the visit to the hospital.

The only downside to all of this was that he was growing increasingly excited, which meant he was increasingly impatient. He found it extremely frustrating to have to keep lying to you. He just wanted you to figure everything out already so he could finally be direct.

So he could finally take you like he knew you wanted him to.

But since he was the king of the underground now, he had to focus on his work, and he was doing a fan-fucking-tastic job at it. He could guarantee with absolute confidence that Gotham’s underground had never been as organized before.

He wasn’t only controlling crime through fear, but he was providing small jobs to those who would have otherwise got involved with real bad shit that would hurt innocents.

Jason was Gotham’s fucking savior.

And he wore that red bat on his chest with pride.

Jason didn’t need you to be his Queen, but he wanted to.

Not because he craved you- but because it would be the last blow to Batman’s legacy.

At least, that’s what he was trying to convince himself.

*** The glaring red ink on your paper reminded you of the blood that you tried so hard to wash off.

You stared hard at the large, capital B written on your history test. It wasn’t your only B. You got a B minus for math, a B plus for biology and physics, and an A minus for chemistry, amongst other subjects.

You maintained a neutral face. You couldn’t let anyone around you read you.

“I guess I don’t need to ask what you got, huh Wayne?” Michelle Myers rolled her green eyes at you from her desk, flipping her auburn hair to the side.

“You’d be surprised, Michelle,” you smiled at her sweetly. You knew she always viewed you as competition when it came to academics, sports, and even social media follower count. You didn’t get why. You always thought she was prettier, more feminine than you. “I’m only human, you know.”

“So what you got?” Robert Laheigh cut in.

“A big fat B,” you sighed.

“Woah, a B? You?” Robert gasped dramatically.

“Way to rub it in, Rob,” you chuckled, “I guess I got distracted by some stuff.”

“Oh yes, it must be so hard to be you, daughter of the richest guy in Gotham,” Michelle snickered.

You looked at Michelle with a cold smile, and thought about wiping that smug look off her face by smashing her head onto the wooden desk.

“Hey, don’t be like that,” said the blond jock, “I’m sure whatever she’s going through is legit. You don’t know her life. And she did just get kidnapped.”

“Of course, Rob, how rude of me,” Michelle sneered at him, “I forgot how much you like to suck up to her.”

Rob was Michelle’s ex-boyfriend. He dumped her because he apparently started having feelings for another girl in class. Who the mysterious girl was, you didn’t know. But shortly after that, Michelle started to become more and more hostile towards you.

“It’s fine, Rob,” you assured him, “She’s right. I’ve really got no excuses.”

Besides the fact that you’ve been reliving the night you beat someone half to death for the past two weeks, slowly getting numb to the memory.

Besides the fact that Bruce had been acting suspiciously nice to you despite suspending your patrols for the next month until you got yourself together.

Besides the fact that Jason had been kind to you, beaming almost proudly ever since you saw each other at that cafe two weeks ago, but all you could think about when he happened to brush himself against you was how you craved Red Hood’s touch instead.

But Michelle was right, you neglected your studies and didn’t have any excuses.

Rob pursed his lips and walked over to your table, leaning down to you.

“Hang in there, okay?” he frowned in concern, “If you need to talk, about anything, I’m here for you.”

You flashed him a charming smile, “Of course, Rob. I appreciate it. Thank you.”

You saw his cheeks get red, and he straightened up, clearing his throat.

Right.

Now you know why Michelle Myers hated you so much.

***

Your gaze was unfocused, just looking outside the window of the car.

Michelle never got to you like that before. You usually ignored it and brushed her off. But suddenly you got so annoyed by her fucking face that you really wanted to mess it up.

“What’s wrong, my dear?” Alfred glanced at you from the rearview mirror of the sleek BMW, breaking your thoughts.

“Nothing, Alfred,” you smiled at him, “I got my papers back. I didn't do very well.”

“To maintain a balance is a difficult feat,” he said, “Your older brothers went through the same thing. Though, a teacher once complained that Master Todd’s grades were too perfect.”

You didn’t miss his subtle sad tone when he mentioned Todd. Oddly, it didn’t sound as sad as he usually did when he spoke of your predecessor.

But it didn’t change the fact that you really didn’t want to talk about Todd and how perfect his grades were.

You were silent the whole ride back.

“Master Bruce wishes to speak to you in the Cave,” Alfred informed you when you got out of the car. “I suggest you prepare yourself for his news.”

“What do you mean?” you frowned in question.

“It’s best if he explains,” Alfred gave you a tired smile. He looked like he hadn’t slept all night.

You shrugged and went inside, dumping your bag of books onto the sofa of the living room as you made your way to the grandfather’s clock to descend below. You were nervous. Maybe Bruce has decided to lift your suspension, or maybe Bruce has decided that he was better off without you as Robin.

Whatever it was, your heart beat in rhythm to your quick steps down the stairs.

You approached Bruce from behind, he was seated at his regular spot in front of the massive computer screens. This time though, instead of displaying an array of his cases, old articles,or his own notes, it was just blank.

You gulped. He was really going to ask you to quit wasn’t he?

“Hey, Bruce,” you let out a shaky breath, “Alfred said you wanted to talk?”

“Yes,” he nodded, his face more solemn than you’ve ever seen before, “Sit.”

Oh no, you thought, one word replies and commands.

You pulled up a wheeled chair and sat obediently in front of him.

“Firstly,” he began, “I’m sorry. For keeping you in the dark this whole time. I needed to process the information, and make sure. And it was… difficult for me to come to terms with the truth. I’ve only just told Alfred last night.”

“What are you talking about?” you questioned slowly, your previous worries disappearing.

“What do you know about multiverses and alternate realities?” Bruce asked you.

“Uhm, what?” you were taken aback by his seemingly random question, “Are you serious?”

Bruce simply looked at you.

“Uhm,” you tried, “I know just enough from sc-fi movies and comic books?”

“Well, it’s more science than fiction,” Bruce stated.

“Okay,” you nodded slowly, still not understanding his point, “And?”

“Certain events caused by certain… individuals,” he struggled with his words, “May cause certain effects onto our world and reality. In this case, bringing back the dead.”

“What, our next mission involves zombies or something?” you smirked.

“I’m being serious,” he deadpanned.

“Right. Sorry,” you quickly added.

“Do you know what the Lazarus Pit is?” he asked another odd question.

“Sure,” you nodded at the familiar name, “That’s how Ra’s Al Ghul is immortal. It makes you not age.”

“It also heals unhealable injuries,” Batman added.

You frowned again. “Where are you going with this, Bruce?”

“Red Hood is Jason Todd,” he blinked.

You blinked back.

“Excuse me, what?” you exclaimed. “Bruce, how did you jump from alternate realities and the lazarus pit to- oh my god.”

Finally, your mind clicked.

“That’s- no,” you shook your head, “That’s not possible. You’re fucking with me, aren’t you? This is some sort of weird test.”

He pursed his lips, and then turned to the computer. He pulled up some sort of biochemistry result on screen. One side was Red Hood’s blurred CCTV photo, and the other, a young dark haired boy smiling brightly at the camera. You recognized him from the one or two pictures on display in the Manor.

“I ran a DNA test from a blood sample I acquired from Red Hood one of the days where I confronted him,” Bruce explained, “I had my suspicions based on the things he had said, and the knowledge he had of us, but I couldn’t confirm it until I ran the test. Even after that, I had to make sure.”

“And?” you demanded.

“And that’s it,” he finished, “Red Hood is Jason Todd.”

Your mind was racing.

“I understand if you have trouble comprehending it,” Bruce offered.

“No, shit,” you scoffed. You were at disbelief. It made zero sense, yet all the sense in the world.

“But, if it’s Jason Todd,” you looked at him, “Then why is he bad?”

“He’s angry with me,” Bruce explained. He had pain in his eyes. “He’s angry with me for not killing Joker, and for… you.”

“Replacement,” it dawned onto you, “Child soldiers being thrown away and replaced by new ones. That’s what he meant.”

“Exactly,” Bruce nodded, “But I think the Pit had something to do with fueling his anger as well. It’s naive to think that the dead can be brought back without… alterations.”

“It makes so much sense now. Why he’s been targeting me. He hates me for replacing him, he-” you looked at Jason Todd’s picture.

Oh.

Oh. You really were stupid. You were a complete idiot.

You didn’t make the connection before, because it didn’t make sense to you. Jason Todd was dead, so your brain did not see any sort of similarities between him and your Jason.

But now that you were staring at the picture of the smiling boy, you could see it. They looked different, very different, but no one could mistake the two if they stared long enough.

Todd was very young in the picture, but even at that age you could see the developing deep set eyes and heavy brows. Their noses were the same, except your Jason’s nose had probably been broken more than a few times. Todd’s skin was clear of scars, and had a more radiant complexion as compared to your Jason’s. Jason’s jaw was more squarish and developed, but their smiles were still the same side smirk.

You thought that Jason had smelled of fireworks. But really, it was-

“Gunpowder,” you whispered out loud to yourself.

“What?” Bruce asked.

“Nothing, I just- it’s a lot to process,” you told him.

Why weren’t you telling him anything?

“I understand,” he acknowledged, “If you have any questions, I promise I will answer them all truthfully. No more secrets.”

You looked at the man who adopted you only three months after his son’s death, and saw how he was trying to make things up to you, his concern about you.

“What was he like?” you asked, “I know I’ve asked you this before. I’ve asked Dick, too. And Alfred. But I felt like everyone was just too sad about it to tell me much. So I’m going to ask you again now that he’s back.”

“He was efficient, and he learned very quickly-”

“Not as Robin, Bruce,” you interjected, “How was he like at home when he had nothing to do? Did he go out with friends? What was his favorite flavor? That kind of stuff.”

Bruce fell silent for a moment, the crease between his brows deepening.

“He liked to read,” Bruce said, “I don’t know if you’ve been into his room, but we kept it exactly how it was all those years ago. All those books on his shelf- he read them all. Some more than once. He was very organized and tidy. Cleaned his room so that Alfred didn’t have to.”

You noticed him smile ever so slightly as he recalled the memory.

“He had some friends, but I’m not sure about a girlfriend,” he continued, “He was secretive. He was more quiet than Dick, but happy all the same. Until he got a bit confident, then he became reckless.”

“He angered easily,” Bruce sighed, “He was rash. He acted first without thinking of the consequences later. I remember having lots of arguments with him. There were many weeks where he wouldn’t speak to me unless it was a serious question regarding patrol. But he was good. He’s always been good.”

“I’m sure he still is, Bruce,” you sympathized with him. The Jason you knew was kind to you, but Red Hood- he was a different story.

Was it all a lie? Was the Jason you knew just a persona to use and manipulate you?

Just tell him, your inner thoughts screamed at you.

“So what now?” you asked.

“He’s been very careful with his operation,” Bruce explained, “I need to confront him. I need to talk to him.”

Fucking tell him, your conscience insisted.

Tell him what? That you were dumb enough to not be suspicious of a mysterious man who charmed his way into your life at the same time a new villain came to town?

You were so fucking naive.

“We need to do some interrogating. Maybe he has a base for operations-”

At the same time Bruce started explaining the plan to you, your phone dinged, causing you to jump slightly.

You ignored it, and looked apologetically at him.

“Once we find out, we try to corner him to talk. I might need to get Dick-”

Your phone dinged again.

“- to help. I haven’t told him yet-”

And for one last time, your phone dinged.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at you.

“I’m sorry,” you said sheepishly, “Let me silent it. Hold on.”

You unlocked your phone to see three consecutive messages from Sexy Hunk From Library.

Your heart sank to your stomach.

You put your phone on silent and put it away.

“Who is it?” Bruce asked, “If it’s urgent, we can continue this later.”

“No!” you accidentally raised your voice, “Ahem, I mean, no. It’s just a boy.”

“A boy?” he repeated, “You’ve been talking to a boy?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, extremely careful with your body language and choice of words, “Just a boy I met at the library. Sorry- he’s not important.”

Bruce looked at you for a moment, and then- “I’m still not relieving you of your suspension. I will have Dick with me for now while I investigate. You have two weeks left until I allow you to be back in uniform. As of now, training.”

“Yeah,” you sighed and close your eyes, squeezing the bridge of your nose, “It might do me some good. My grades are horrible. I have to catch up.”

“Good,” he nodded curtly, “Use your time wisely. And do not confront Red Hood alone.”

“Why would I do that, Bruce?” you asked exasperatedly, “Now I know who he really is, it’d be stupid of me to do so. This shit he has against us is fucking personal.”

“As long as you realise that, then fine,” he answered.

You nodded before adding, “Are you going to tell Dick over the phone?”

“No, I’ll have him come here,” he replied, “It’s the proper way. Dick will- he won’t take it as well as you did.”

“Well, I never knew the guy, so,” you shrugged, the thought of the Jason you did know, acted like an anchor on your heart. “I’m going to take a nice long bath. It’s been an intense day.”

“Take as long as you need,” he nodded, turning away to reach for his phone to dial Dick, “I think we’ll investigate Otisburg first. His previous base of operations was there, perhaps we could find some of his men.”

“Let me know how Dick takes it,” you waved, walking back.

*** You climbed into the steaming water, scented with vanilla and sighed deeply.

You stared at your phone which you put on the drying mat on the floor next to the tub, your notifications still on the screen. You gulped, and reached for it, careful not to drop in the water and read what Jason had sent you.

Sexy Hunk From Library: Hey Sexy Hunk From Library: What’re you up to? Sexy Hunk From Library: I’m so bored

You couldn’t help how the corners of your lips twitched upwards, and then you frowned again, thinking of how to deal with your dilemma.

Why couldn’t you just tell Bruce like what was expected of you? Was there a part of you that didn’t want Red Hood caught, or was it because you had fallen for Jason?

Or was it because you liked that your Jason was Red Hood?

You let out a loud groan of frustration.

Of course you didn’t like that the two were the same people. Because Jason had manipulated you, lied to you, and probably would have sabotaged you.

Yet, you didn’t feel angry. You just felt immensely sad for yourself, but most of all for him.

He had hid his true self from you so well, but now that you know who he was, and what he was going through, you just wanted to help. He was a Robin after all, and even if you hadn’t met him prior to this, you felt obligated to connect with him.

You decided to reply.

You: Hey. I just got back from school. I’m just soaking in the tub now.

You blinked in surprise when you received a video call from him instead. You made sure that your chest was submerged in water and hesitantly picked up.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist when I heard that you were naked,” you saw him grin cheekily on the screen. He was in bed, judging from the blue pillows he had propped up behind him.

“I bet that’s what you say to all the girls,” you tried hard to smile and seem normal.

But he had caught on and frowned. “What’s wrong? I’m sorry, I can hang up if you want your privacy.”

“No, it’s not you,” you lied, “I just got my exam results back. They weren’t as good as usual. Fucking Michelle Myers looked so smug about it.”

“Is she like the popular mean girl who’s secretly jealous of you?” he guessed.

“I guess she is,” you chuckled, but your smile faltered again soon after.

“If you want to talk about it, I’m here,” he offered.

You pursed your lips in hesitation, thinking carefully about your next words and actions.

“Actually,” you said, “Could I meet you tonight? I’m- I’m not alright. I just need to talk to someone.”

“Tonight?” he frowned, pausing for a moment.

Of course. Night time was Red Hood time. He was probably busy when he didn’t have to seduce and manipulate you.

“Sure,” he finally agreed, “Where?”

“Really?” you were taken aback. Why would he neglect his own responsibilities to see you?

“Of course,” he insisted, “I told you that I’d be here for you whenever you need. I mean it.”

Now you were confused. Why was he so committed to gaining your trust?

“O-okay,” you smiled, this time for real. “Do you think we can meet at Robinson Park? Around nine thirty?”

Bruce would usually leave for patrol at 9.

“I’ll see you there,” he responded.

***

You looked at yourself in the mirror. You had specifically chosen to wear a baby pink sweater over a white collared shirt, buttoned all the way up with a grey plaid skirt that fell to your knees. You needed to look innocent and non-threatening. You kept your makeup light and your hair simple.

You took one of the less conspicuous of Bruce’s cars which happened to be one of the newer Mini Cooper models. It was the least sporty, least big, least out of place. You could blend in well with everyone else when driving that car.

You told Alfred you were going out to meet a friend, in which he responded with an almost offensive shocked expression, and then proceeded to endlessly tell you to have fun, and to not worry about coming back too early.

The traffic was lighter than usual, and the sky clear- the full moon shining high. You parked at Robinson Park’s open parking space and took a deep breath before grabbing your small purse and getting out of the car.

You checked your phone.

Jason was already there because he had sent you a text message saying which bench he was sitting at. Recognizing his description, you started walking towards him, your heart thumping louder and louder with every step.

“Hey,” you called out when you saw him from behind, sitting on the bench. He was wearing his red hoodie and jeans.

You recognized that hoodie all too well now.

He turned around and smiled widely at you, expecting you to sit next to him.

“Uhm,” you nervously said, “Do you think we could go somewhere more private?”

“Somewhere more private, huh?” he winked, making you giggle. You calmed your nerves down a bit, but still remained careful and vigilant.

“Not like that!” you laughed, “It’s just- going out with a guy at night, if anyone were to recognize me, I’d be in trouble.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” he stood up. Suddenly his height and broad shoulders, the only thing you could see under the loose clothes, started an alarm in your head, reminding you of how easily he could overpower you. “Do you have any place in mind?”

“I was thinking,” you hesitated, “That building right there? It’s just a small office building. We could take the fire escape staircase up to the roof?”

You pointed towards the building across the street. It was only around five or six stories high.

“Isn’t that, trespassing or something?” he smirked.

“It’s not like we’re doing anything bad,” you rolled your eyes, “I just wanted to talk to you without being seen, that’s all.”

The truth was that you knew GCPD had cruiser cars patrolling outside of the park since they found the three bodies Red Hood hanged, as well as a couple of officers patrolling inside the park every few hours. You didn’t want to risk spooking Jason, especially since you were going to properly talk to him.

“Okay, lead the way,” he gestured.

You tried to be mindful of your body language. Hoping to not seem stiff or nervous, you walked next to him closely, your arm brushing his occasionally as you walked across the street.

Once you reached the fire escape staircase, the both of you climbed up smoothly.

The roof was clean, at least. No sign of pigeon droppings, no litter or cigarette butts, and no random puddles of water from the rain.

Jason walked to the edge, put his hand on the ledge, and peered over.

“Now, that’s high! I don’t know about you, but heights make me slightly nervous,” he chuckled to himself before turning to you and giving you a big boyish grin. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

The way he looked, both his hands behind his head in a casual, relaxed pose- you really didn’t want to believe it.

“I’m kinda nervous to tell you,” you admitted.

He walked towards you and gave you a warm smile, “It’s okay. Take it slow. I’ve got all night.”

You took a deep breath, and began.

“I’m confused. I feel like I’m doing the wrong thing instead of the right thing, but for some reason, the wrong thing feels more right than the right thing. You get me?” you finished your ramblings with a question.

The sound of sirens coming from the streets below were an accurate representation of what was going on in your head.

“I’m sorry,” he said in confusion, “I’m not sure I do, princess.”

You took a deep breath, ignoring your thumping heart and your inner voices screaming at you in protest.

“I know, Jason,” you stated, “I know who you are.”

Jason looked even more confused. So confused, that you doubted yourself for just one small moment. But then, against all your hope and wishes you had since you figured it out, his face twisted into a sinister smirk, his eyes no longer the bright and warm and friendly blue, but cold, harsh, and unforgiving.

When you thought of your Jason being Red Hood, it was hard to imagine someone like him as a cold blooded killer, but after seeing his face in a new light, you asked yourself why you didn’t figure it out sooner.

“Finally,” he rolled his eyes, “Did he tell you?”

You nodded, not wanting your voice to betray you and the tears that had started pooling your eyes. You had wished so hard that you were wrong, that Bruce was wrong.

“You look disappointed,” he scoffed.

“Of course I am,” you sighed, looking away, “I thought you were… nice.”

“It’s called acting, sweetheart,” he sassed.

“Well, I’ll be sure to nominate you for an Oscar, then,” you snapped.

The fucker actually chuckled at that, earning a glare from you.

“Anyway,” he started, “Let’s cut to the chase. Where is he?”

You frowned at that. “In Otisburg with Dick, investigating you. I told you, Batman wouldn’t bother us here tonight.”

“You’re telling me,” he responded, “That you came here unarmed, and without backup?”

He looked at you incredulously before barking out a humourless laugh. “You’re either brave or stupid.”

“If you wanted to hurt me, you would have done so long ago,” you pointed out.

“Thanks for you trust in me,” he said sarcastically.

“Jason,” you pursed your lip.

“What?” he snarled, “What was the point in this?”

“To-” you stopped midway, taking a deep breath of preparation, “To try to convince you-”

“To come back?” he interjected, “To come home? Kiss and hug with Bruce and it’ll all be okay?”

“He misses you, Jason,” you spoke softly, “We can help you fix this. Whatever this is.”

“Fix this?” he growled, walking closer to you as a burst of sudden anger appeared in his eyes, “The only way to fix this is to turn back time. To kill Joker. To unadopt you.”

You felt a sharp stab in your chest. Jason, upon seeing the hurt flash across your face, started to mock you.

“Aww, did I hurt your feelings?” he came even closer, “Insecure little Robin, thinks she’s so good, always doing the right thing.”

He reached out and tilted your chin upwards towards him, and leaned in close. You willed yourself to not flinch at his touch.

“I fucking hated you,” he whispered, hot breath fanning your face, “I wanted to bash your head in against the wall. I wanted to see you suffer and make you cry. Hell, I still do sometimes. But then I realise…”

His lips grazed your ear.

“That you’re. Just. Like. Me.”

You slapped his hand away and stepped back.

“I’m nothing like you,” you countered.

“No?” he raised an eyebrow condescendingly, “So you did not beat Jerome Miller’s ass straight into a coma?”

Your eyes widen, your throat tightened. “Wh- How- how did you-”

“Oh, sweetheart, who did you think hired those buffoons in the first place?” he sneered.

“No,” you squeaked, your thoughts all rushing back to you, “I- I told you… It was my favorite place in the world…”

“And I loved every fucking second of taking it away from you,” he elaborated, “And when you called me, crying- to say it felt good would be an understatement.”

Stupid. You were stupid, and that’s all you were. Stupid and naive.

You couldn’t stop the tears from escaping your eyes.

“Oh no, baby girl, don’t cry,” he rushed to wipe away your tears. You almost mistook him for being genuine, until he added, “You’re gonna make me hard.”

You looked away, remaining silent, disappointed at yourself for showing your weakness.

“Batman may have taken the fall for what you did to Miller, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew you had a personal grudge that you acted on. Just like me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you still tried to argue, “It just happened.”

“And I just happened to come back from the dead, right?” he snapped, “And I just happened to take over the criminal underground?”

“What I did was an accident,” you protested.

“Yet Jerome Miller is still a vegetable,” he pointed out, “You don’t know much about him, do you? You didn’t do your research. You wouldn’t make excuses for yourself if you had.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” you demanded.

“His family? Ring any bells?” he said, and then his eyebrows shot up when he realised you were clueless, “Holy fucking shit! Don’t- don’t tell me. You never even stopped to think of his family?”

You swallowed the bitter taste in your mouth as your heart sank at that realisation.

“You’re more heartless than I thought, baby girl,” he chuckled, “Anna Miller- his wife- was diagnosed with stage four cancer about three years ago. She’s been in and out of chemo ever since. He needed to find a way to pay the bills. Now, he was already a talented and experienced man- but because Gotham is a shit hole, he, like everyone else, couldn’t find an honest job. So he had to resort to illegal means to pay for his wife.”

“He was a chatty guy, Jerome,” he continued, “Basically told me his life story. Thanked me again and again for the generous pay. He was going to take his 6 year old daughter to see Elsa at Disneyland this summer. Being the saint that I am, I even put in a couple grand extra. But now, I may have paid him a lot, but his wife will still continue to accumulate her medical bills. Who’s gonna pay for them? And poor sweet Andrea would be stuck without a father and a mother who’s too sick to take care of her. Thanks to you, of course.”

It became clearer to you now- the effects of your assault. You took away a breadwinner from his struggling family- and it shook you. The fact that the Red Hood was the one who pointed this all out to you to make you realise what you did, it was humorlessly ironic.

“You’re lying,” you shook your head. Denial was the only thing keeping you from breaking down. “Why should I believe a single thing you say when you’ve been lying to me for months?”

“Believe me or not, it doesn’t matter,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “I just wanted you to open your eyes and see who you really are. Impulsive, explosive, and insecure. And you know what? I can work with that. You’re perfect for my line of work.”

“Your line of work?” you frowned.

“I’m not all bad, you know,” he smirked, “I do this- I do what Batman hasn’t been able to. I’ve controlled crime. I know you’ve questioned his methods. I did. And even if you haven’t, you will eventually.”

“No,” you insisted, not allowing your doubts to resurface again, “What you’re doing, it’s- it’s wrong.”

“Wrong?” he scoffed, “If what I’m doing is wrong, then that would make me the bad guy, right?”

You eyed him suspiciously, unsure of where he was going with that point. The wind was blowing in his hair, messing it up and making him look more boyish. If you squinted hard enough, you thought you could see a glimpse of the younger Jason Todd- the one Bruce had pictures of.

“Then isn’t it wrong for Robin, the light to Batman’s darkness,” he exaggerated, before glaring straight into your eyes, “to want to fuck the bad guy?”

He finished with a smug grin.

“W-what?” you half sputtered, half screeched.

“Oh, please,” he rolled his eyes, “You might as well have spelt it out for me in bold when I kidnapped you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stood your ground.

Jason closed the distance, until both of your fronts were just an inch apart. Your stomach did a flip, your heart beating faster at the movement, almost jumping out of throat.

You gulped subconsciously.

“I’ve heard you moan,” he drawled, “I saw your pupils dilate, and the way you licked your lips when my crotch was right in front of you. You looked hungry.”

It was like you were frozen, yet heat started to pool at your centre as you remembered that the man in front of you was the famous cold-blooded criminal that you’ve been thinking about non-stop ever since your first encounter.

He gripped you by the hips and pulled you closer to grind his front against yours. You squeaked at the sudden movement, but gasped when you felt his cock half hard against you.

You were so close, you had to crane your neck up painfully to see him. He was so much taller than you, his head bowed down, your lips only inches from each other, panting hard before anything had even started.

His smell were clearer than ever, you knew that he smelled like leather because of his alter ego. You could also smell the lingering fabric softener that he must have used on his laundry, which gave you an almost comical picture of him in his Red Hood costume trying to figure out how the washing machine worked. And the gunpowder. You breathed him in, thinking the last one suited him the most, the combination of it and his musky cologne complimenting each other.

The pull you felt towards him- the lust, the want, the craving, hell the fucking sparks- you didn’t feel all of that when you kissed the first time, or the second.

You only felt it now, when you knew that he was Red Hood, that he was Jason Peter Todd- the Robin you never met.

The Robin who died.

The Robin who hated you.

He took his hand and cupped your cheek, surprisingly gentle with his touch. That is, until he closed the gap and kissed you hard, almost forceful with his nips and licks. It was hard for you to keep up with him because he kissed you like he was so deprived, like he needed to.

For some reason, you could really taste him now. He tasted like a mix of dark bitter chocolate and smoke and whiskey and coke.

You let out a soft involuntary moan when he pried his tongue into your mouth, and rubbed his hands up and down your waist, to your back, squeezing your ass and coming back to your hips. Without breaking the kiss, he started walking and guiding you towards the exit door to the stairwell, his grip on you preventing you from stumbling.

He pushed you against the wall bordering on violently, consequently knocking the breath out of you from shock more than anything, and took a step back.

He observed you, his hooded eyes raking your body. His lips were plump and glistening, his gaze piercingly intense.

You could only imagine what you looked like to him. Pupils blown, lips swollen, face flushed.

“Hmm,” he tilted his head as his stare wandered across your body, “Was this get up supposed to have changed my perspective of you? To see you as a sweet, innocent girl? You thought I wouldn’t hurt you if you looked like a good girl?”

You gulped, not knowing how to answer his accurate guess.

“Quite the opposite, princess,” he growled, “Your innocence was what attracted me in the first place. And now that I know what’s underneath all that fucking pink- that you beat a guy half to death. Well, that turns me on even more.”

He stalked towards you in a predatory way, making your breath hitch. He looked like he was going to devour you, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t scare you despite your panties getting moist.

“Plus,” he added, “I like corrupting good girls. Making them dirty. Not that you aren’t already.”

He reached around your head and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head sideways so he could attack your neck. His other hand roamed your body, squeezing your breasts, eliciting another moan from you.

Then, you felt his hand snake up the side of your thigh, bunching up your skirt along the way, creeping further and further towards your center.

“Jason,” you gasped.

“I know you want this,” he whispered into the crook of your neck, not stopping his hand. “Don’t you?”

He pressed onto your covered clit gently, making you whine at the relief, your hands now flat against the wall behind you. He then pulled down your panties swiftly, goosebumps appearing wherever he touched. Even though you were still wearing your skirt, you still felt bare and exposed, partly due to the unfamiliar feeling of wind brushing up and caressing your naked pussy.

You moaned yet again when he sucked onto the skin of your neck. You knew he was going to leave bruises and marks, but you were too dizzy in heat and lust to care.

He slipped a finger in between your folds and started to lightly stroke up and down, always avoiding touching the spot you really wanted him to touch.

“Fuck,” he chuckled, “You’re dripping, and I haven’t even done anything yet.”

He straightened and looked at you in the eye. “I knew you weren’t the sweet girl you pretend to be,” he stated, and without warning, started to rub your clit at an intense pace.

“Jason,” you whimpered, your hands flying from the wall to grip his shirt tight, loving the foreign feeling of someone else touching you.

”You like that, baby girl?” he panted hot breaths on your skin.

“Please don’t stop,” you breathed, heat and electricity pulsating from your center to your toes.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he grumbled, stopping his movements altogether.

You let out a disappointed groan.

But before you could say anything, you felt a finger prod at your opening. Slowly, he inserted his finger, drawing a long sigh from you.

“Mmm,” he purred, “So tight and warm.”

You felt that amazing full feeling you felt when he did the same all those weeks ago while you were tied to the chair. Except now, he wasn’t just teasing anymore.

He started to curl his fingers upwards, pressing the spot he did previously, when he fingered you for the first time, but only more intensely just like the way he rubbed your clit and the way he sucked on your skin. It was like he was trying to attack you with a barrage of sensations.

“Fuck!” you cried, throwing your arms shamelessly around his neck for support, “I-is- is that my-”

“You mean you’ve never touched yourself here before? Not even after I touched it for you?” you felt him smile against your neck, increasing the pace, making you moan wantonly. “This is your g-spot, sweetheart.”

Right, your g-spot. You've heard of this biological mystery before- the girls were talking about it in the locker room. And you got even more curious after that particular session with Red Hood. But even when you did start touching yourself regularly, the easiest way was to only stimulate your clitoris, and you felt that was enough for you.

Mainly because Mother would scream even louder if you attempted to insert a finger, pretending it was Red Hood’s.

You whimpered into his neck, one of your thighs hitching higher and higher all the way to hook around his waist and give him more access. Immediately, he grabbed your leg from behind your knee and supported you.

“We gotta get you a bit more ready for me, baby girl,” he announced before slowly inserting a second finger, earning a shiver from you.

With two fingers inside, you felt the wonderful stretch for the first time. You mewled at all the new and pleasurable heat you felt.

“Fuck, how bad have you wanted this, sweetheart?” he whispered into your ear, “Because your slick is dripping down my hand right now.”

You turned away and pursed your lips.

“Answer me,” he nipped your earlobe, “Or I’ll stop.”

“No,” you whined, not caring about shame or dignity or principles anymore, “Please.”

“Then answer me like a good girl, princess,” he breathed, “Be a good girl for me. How bad have you wanted this?”

“Bad,” you choked, “So bad, Jason.”

“With Jason, or Red Hood?” he asked, not stopping his deft fingers.

“B-both,” you stuttered.

“For how long?”

“Since the- the night of the bank robbery-” you struggled to form your sentence, “-when you- t-touched me.”

“So you wanted Red Hood first before Jason?” he pulled back, looking at you wide-eyed and surprised.

You bit your lip and nodded.

He smiled wide, and then chuckled, simultaneously withdrawing his fingers from you.

You pouted at the loss, to which he replied, “Don’t look at me like that, baby.”

He pulled you in for another breathtaking, dizzying kiss. You let your leg fall back down to stabilize yourself. He untucked your collared shirt and snaked both his hands underneath. You shuddered when you felt his heat on your skin as he bunched up your top and sweater, pushing up your bra to reveal your breasts.

He played and squeezed them, pinching a nipple here and there, causing you to take in sharp breaths. He wrapped his other arm around you and descended downwards to give attention to your ass at the same time.

“I can’t decide which I like more,” he grumbled.

Suddenly, he pushed you back against the wall even harder, and hooked the same leg around his waist sharply. You felt him fumble around with his zipper, your anticipation now killing you.

Finally, he looked at you straight in the eye, his eyebrows knitted together, his lips slightly apart.

“I don’t care about you, so I’m not going to go slow, you hear me?” he warned.

You gulped, and nodded.

“I’m just going to take what I want,” he continued, “You wanted to make me the bad guy so much, so here I am. I’m going to be the fucking villain.

Your eyes fluttered shut when you felt him rub his tip up and down your pussy lips. You were slightly disappointed that you couldn’t see what he looked like from that angle.

“And once I start, I’m not going to stop either,” he growled, “You’re going to deal with the pain, like you always do. Like he taught you to.”

“Please don’t talk about him right now,” you groaned, forcing yourself to push away the guilt. What would Bruce think of this?

“Fine,” he smirked, prodding the head of his cock at your entrance, “You ready, sweetheart?”

“Ye- AH!” you screamed loudly for the first time that night, because he immediately thrust himself into you, tearing through you, stretching you further than just two fucking fingers.

It was painful. Very painful. You could feel the sting. But then you felt his thumb rubbing your clit intensely, mixing the pain with pleasure, and fuck.

Fuck.

You liked the combination.

“Shit,” he rasped as he fucked into you wildly, “Shit, you feel so good, baby girl.”

“Jay,” you trembled, feeling the way his cock filled you up, feeling the way your pussy pulled it in, the way your walls clung onto his shaft with every violent drag.

“Hold onto me,” he commanded, and you automatically obeyed, your arms going around his neck. He hooked your other leg around his waist and gripped your hips, so that you were now off the ground and against the wall.

“Jay, Jay, Jay,” you chanted as your mind went fuzzy, your eyes watery from the fiery way he fucked you, hitting your spot again and again with the head of his cock. You were breathless, you couldn’t tell if it was reality or a dream.

He was loud. You could hear his whines, and moans, and grunts.

Hell if that didn’t turn you on even more.

“Fuck, the way your tits bounce, fuck,” he husked, his lips brushing against yours.

Indeed, you could feel your breasts heave and move with the motion, and you could hear the vulgar sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet slick sounds you assumed was your pussy being drilled by his dick.

“So wet and good for me, princess,” he muttered, “So good, taking my cock so well.”

His tongue forced his way inside your mouth again, finding yours. He started sucking on your tongue as he pounded you against the wall, muffling your cries. You weren’t going to last very long. You could feel it.

The tightening of your stomach, the heat spreading from your core to your chest and your toes and the tips of your fingers, your consciousness gradually disappearing as you felt increasingly light-headed.

“I can feel you, baby,” he breathed, “You wanna cum, sweetheart?”

“Jason,” you let out a soft sigh, unable to say anything other than his name.

“Me too, baby girl, me too,” he said in stuttered breaths as his thrusts became even faster but sloppier. He started rubbing on your clit again.

The moment he did, you snapped. You felt the shattering, most intense feeling of pleasure overcome all your senses, whiting you out from reality for those few moments of your high.

“Fuck!” you heard him swear distantly as you came back down. He pulled out quickly from you, making you wince at the slight soreness, and then you felt hot pulsations on your lower stomach as he groaned and grunted his release.

He slumped against you, trapping you between the wall as you released his middle from your legs. The moment you tried to stand up, your legs gave up, causing you to wobble and fall. Jason caught you before you reached the floor, and then gently set you down.

You leaned your head back on the wall and closed your eyes. Your legs still spread wide, hoping the cool air could relieve you of the sudden soreness you felt between your legs.

“You’re bleeding,” you heard him choke.

You opened your eyes to see him look at you with an odd expression- like he was confused and trying to decide something important.

“I’m fine,” you said, “Would it be too much to ask you to pass me my handbag? I’ve got tissues inside.”

You watched as he zipped himself up and walked a couple of feet away from you to take your bag. But instead of tossing it to you like you expected him to, he went through it, found the tissue, and then walked over to you and kneeled down.

With wide eyes, your eyes followed him as he took out a sheet and wipe you gently between your legs, the inside of your thighs, and your stomach. He tossed the tissue to the side. You briefly caught the bright red on the white. He took out another sheet and then cleaned you once more.

Once he was done, he found your panties and held them out to you, not meeting your eye. You graciously took it and slipped it back on, not missing the way his cheeks were slightly red.

You tried standing up again.

You were a little wobbly, but you managed.

He was now a few feet away from you, watching you from the corner of his eye.

The silence was awkwardly deafening. You just stood there, blushing, holding your own arms.

Then-

“Fuck it.”

He walked to you, and before you knew it, he pulled you in his arms for a…

Hug?

He forced your head to rest on his hard chest, as his other hand wrapped around you tight. The warmth you felt was surprising, but comforting, especially after losing your virginity in such an unconventional way.

“Don’t get used to this,” grumbled into your hair, “I’m not your fucking boyfriend.”

You could only silently nod as you tried to hide your smile.

The moment was short lived, because you remembered again how you got there.

“Jason?” you whispered.

“What?” he answered harshly.

“I hated you, you know,” you admitted, “Not Red Hood, not Jason Haywood. But you. Jason Todd.”

He let you go, and looked at you with an angry confused look.

You guessed that was how he was going to look at you from then on. Angry confusion. Angry stares. Angry smile. If that was even possible.

“It was just a deep, dark part of me, of course. I also did wish I got to know you. The Robin that died,” you said bitterly, “Every time someone brought you up, they’d look so fucking sad. Not that I could tell anyone that, of course. Because that would make me a Grade A bitch. But you know what? I hated you. I always wondered if Bruce adopted me just to fill in the hole that you left. And every time I did something right, I’d would think everyone around me is saying ‘Oh look at her. She’s finally catching up to Jason.’ And fuck, when I did something wrong, then it’d be ‘Jason would never have fucked up like that’.”

You looked at him with all the bitter resentment you’ve been harboring for years.

“I hated you, and I hated every time someone brought you up,” you continued, “Like, God, get over it, you know? He’s dead.”

You were slightly taken aback at how he was still silent, listening, and waiting for you to finish.

“But you’re not dead,” you sighed, “You’re here, alive. And I don’t know why I’m not telling Bruce about this. I hate you, so fucking much for making me feel this way.”

He stared at you with knitted brows, and then started chuckling, making you frown.

“Oh man,” he laughed, “I’ve never seen anyone look at me with so much hatred before. I mean, sure some of my men do hate me, but it was always mixed with fear. But you? Baby girl, you make me so fucking proud.”

He changed back into his arrogant self.

“Join me,” he cockily said.

“W-what?” you sputtered.

“Come on. I know you. The deep, dark part of yourself,” he used your own words, “The one who hated her father’s dead son, the one who put a guy into a coma without stopping to think of his family, the one who let me fuck you the way I did.”

He grinned as you remained silently frowning.

“Just one night,” he tried, “Just to show you my world, and what I do. I know you’re curious.”

He was right, you have always been curious as to what was happening on his side. The crazies, the bad guys, the deplorable.

Lately more than ever, with the exponential decrease in certain criminal activities.

“You know,” he continued, “Whenever you feel like you’re tired of being his sidekick, I’d gladly take you up as a partner.”

You chewed on your lip, heavily considering his offer.

“I’ll think about it,” you finally said, and turned away from him, “I’m going back.”

You were tired.

And sore.

“You know where to reach me.”

***

Jason watched you as you climbed back down the fire escape, putting up his casual front until he knew you were gone. He grit his teeth when he saw you cross the street back to the park, your gait slightly different.

He walked over to the wall where he fucked you animalistically wild.

“FUCK!” he roared, and punched the wall, feeling the pain reverberate down to his shoulder.

Why did he do that? Why did he do it the way he did?

He felt his chest tighten, his breaths quick and sharp.

His eyes were stinging with tears.

Why did he hug you? He didn’t care. He was not supposed to care.

Why did he feel like a fucking monster?

Finally, after so long of trying to hold back, he broke down.

He punched the wall again, and again, until he crumpled down to his knees, his sobs almost choking him.

He ran his fingers through his hair and pulled, screaming loud at how much he fucking hated himself.

He hated you, so much.

No, he didn’t.

Yes, he did.

“SHUT UP!” he yelled, “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

He was nothing more than a pathetic, slobbering mess. No wonder Bruce had replaced him with you.

No, it was Bruce’s fault. Bruce never loved him. Bruce doesn’t love you. He just uses people and then throw them away.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Please,” he whimpered, “I want to die.”

No, he didn’t.

He still had a job to do, he still had his goals to reach. He’s been working so hard and he got to this point already. He had control of the underground and control over you.

So why didn’t he feel like a winner?

[kthstrawberryshortcake]

Hanging by a Thread

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: angst with a happy ending

warnings: language, sexual themes (it’s pretty mild tbh)

word count: 2,540

This came basically out of nowhere. My brain just spit it out one day. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Also very minimal editing was done with this, be warned. 

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You couldn’t keep going on like this. It had been three weeks since you’d heard anything from Yoongi and thus far you’d been continuing on like nothing was wrong, like not hearing from your boyfriend for weeks at a time was normal. You knew he got busy, and him disappearing into his studio for days wasn’t unusual, but three weeks was a long time. Three weeks in which you’d tried to give him space, but your calls and texts had gone unanswered. You’d even tried to take food to the studio, both to make sure he ate and to get a chance to see him, but after waiting for an hour as you called and texted to ask him to open the door, you had given up. You’d left the food outside the studio and texted him to let him know it was there. 

You knew nothing had bad happened to him or anything like that. Your best friend Taehyung had told you as much. He was the one who had introduced you to Yoongi in the first place over a year ago. There were people who would tell you that you should’ve expected this. You had entered the relationship fully aware that he wouldn’t be the overly affectionate, clingy boyfriend, and that was more than okay with you. This had gone far beyond that point, though. It wasn’t a lack of publicly displayed affection, or even a lack of affection, but rather the complete and total lack of attention, a failure to even give you signs of life. Plus there was the one conversation you’d had right before he went AWOL, one that had seemed to go well at the time, that you wondered if it had anything to do with Yoongi’s sort of disappearance. 

  At your wit’s end, you decided the only way to keep from going entirely insane was to distract yourself with the company of friends. That’s how you ended up on the couch at the BTS dorms, wrapped up in your best friend’s arms. Your head was leaned against Taehyung’s shoulder as tears rolled down your cheeks. Jimin and Jungkook were also in the room, immersed in playing video games. “You want me to punch him for you? Because I don’t care if he’s my hyung, he can’t treat you this way. I didn’t introduce you just for him to be a jerk.” Taehyung murmured to you. You sniffled a little. “It’s not worth it Tae. I just wish I could bring myself to give up on him, maybe I wouldn’t hurt so much.” You sighed. 

Right at that moment, you heard the door open and slam shut, then footsteps. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” Yoongi roared, standing behind the couch where you and Taehyung sat. He looked positively livid. “So what, are you cheating on me now? With him? Or what explanation do you have for being practically on top of him?” He hissed, his words dripping with venom. You stood up quickly, glaring at him. “Oh, you don’t get to be jealous right now. After the stunt you’ve pulled the last few weeks? Excuse me if I need my best friend to comfort me when you’ve been treating me like shit.” You yelled back. 

All eyes were on the two of you. Yoongi’s expression softened ever so slightly. “I’ve been focused. I’ve been working.” He said in an attempt to defend himself. You shook your head. “Okay, fine, you’ve been working, great. Whatever. I’ve tried not to bother you. I always try not to bother you. But am I supposed to assume that your phone and laptop are broken and you’ve had no internet or cell reception? Because that’s the only actual excuse for this radio silence you’ve been giving me.” You retorted, not about to back down now. He looked slightly less certain now. You were trying not to start crying again, angry and heartbroken all at once. “Is this because I won’t fuck you?” You demanded quietly but harshly. You clenched your teeth, giving him a hard stare. Yoongi looked shocked, then extremely sad. “Do you honestly think I care that much about that?” He asked in almost a whisper. Your mind flashed back to three weeks ago, just before Yoongi fell off the face of the earth. It had started innocently enough, the two of you sitting on his bed and talking. Then the affection he only ever showed in private pulled you in: a small peck, an arm around you, a warm smile. You're head over heels for this man. Next thing you know you’re straddling him, hands on his shoulders as he trails kisses down your neck. You hear a soft whispered “I love you” and you feel as if your heart will burst. You cup his face in your hands and pull him up to you, crashing your lips into his. His hands are on your hips and things continue to get more heated. Somewhere in the fog of being entirely drunk on your love for each other both your shirts find their way off of you. Your kisses grow passionate and messy. Then you feel one of his hands start to unbutton your jeans and you freeze. You pull away and look at him, your nervousness and uncertainty clear on your face. “I’m not ready. I love you more than you know but I’m just not ready for this, I’m sorry…” He can tell you expect him to react negatively so he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “That’s okay, baby. We don’t need to rush” He replies reassuringly, and you visibly relax. You’re so relieved. “Want to just cuddle?” He suggests gently, and you nod. The two of you reposition yourselves so you’re snuggled up next to him as he lays on his back, your head resting on his chest. Moments like this make you feel so loved. They remind you how lucky you are to have Min Yoongi. You had felt totally reassured about the matter after your conversation, but now that he’d basically ghosted you for the three weeks following it, you weren’t so sure. You took a deep breath. “I didn’t think you cared about it, no. But what am I supposed to think? Almost immediately after we talk about it you disappear, zero contact?” You said in frustration. “Do you even want to be in a relationship, Yoongi? Do you just see it as a distraction you can’t afford?” You asked, fearing his answer but truly just needing honesty at this point. “No, of course that’s not what I think. I love you, I don’t want to lose you. And please for the love of god don’t think that me being distant and distracted has anything to do with sex, because I don’t really care about that. I just care about you.” He replied earnestly. 

You were so conflicted. Could you trust his words when his actions had so strongly suggested otherwise? It wasn’t until this moment that you realized the entire maknae line was witnessing your very emotional conversation. You focused on breathing evenly and slowly, trying to calm down. “I need a little time to process. I can’t continue talking about this right now. I’m too upset.” You admitted quietly, glancing up at Yoongi before looking at the floor. You covered your face with your hands, shaking your head. Yoongi respected your request for space and went to his room. 

  Taehyung then put a comforting hand on your shoulder before quietly suggesting “let’s get a snack.” You nodded, walking to the kitchen with Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook right behind you. Jin, who was leaning against the kitchen counter looking at his phone, looked up at the four of you as you entered. He saw the distraught look on your face and the boys’ grim expressions. Jin frowned in concern. “What’s wrong?” He asked, and the four of you looked at each other in an effort to figure out who would tell him and how. Taehyung, who was probably the angriest at the moment, decided to answer. “Y/N’s fantastic boyfriend decided to ghost her for three weeks, and, oh yeah, he also timed it so she thought it was because she wouldn’t have sex with him.” he grumbled. You looked at him kind of uncomfortably, not sure you would’ve phrased it that way, but deciding not to correct him because it was technically true. Jin looked shocked, then sympathetic, hugging you. “Our poor little duckling. That’s awful. Sounds like you could use some brownies.” He said, ruffling your hair a little. “We’ll cheer you up, kiddo, don’t worry.” He started pulling ingredients out. Jungkook took a tentative step toward you like he was afraid you’d fall apart at any second. “Hyung shouldn’t have treated you that way, noona, but it’ll be okay. No matter what happens it’ll be okay, you have all of us.” He said softly, causing Jimin to nod in agreement, giving you a supportive side hug. The boys were succeeding in making you feel at least a tiny bit better, and you were grateful for it.

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Days passed and you still hadn’t been able to figure out what to do about Yoongi. He’d called and texted, of course, but you hadn’t actually spoken to him beyond vague replies to keep from avoiding him entirely. You reflected on how the last three weeks had felt for you. You had felt lonely and sad but most devastatingly, you’d felt completely unwanted. Your relationship had felt one-sided, like you were the only one who cared at all. Every relationship has road bumps, ups and downs, things to work through. The problem here was not that things weren’t perfect but rather that you didn’t know if you could trust Yoongi to be 100% with you in trying to make it better. A slow decline with a long time of you struggling alone to fix things would be worse than ripping off the band-aid, so to speak, and ending it now. 

But you considered seriously how it would feel to end things. Just seriously considering it was enough to take your breath away and bring tears to your eyes. That was the main thing, that you didn’t want to lose him. Though the last three weeks had felt as if you’d lost him already. Was that the case? Was it really all over already anyway? Or was there a light at the end of the tunnel? Constantly considering how to move forward exhausted you. You spent the next few days in bed, in the dark, under the covers, just thinking. You were trying to put the pieces back together before you even attempted to deal with the situation. 

  Here’s what you didn’t (and couldn’t) know. Yoongi was a miserable wreck for the days following your confrontation. The other boys weren’t unsympathetic, but in all honesty, they kind of felt like he deserved it, so they didn’t go out of their way to cheer him up. They’d known you quite some time now because of your friendship with Taehyung, long before you and Yoongi even really knew each other well, let alone were together. You were their friend, too, and it was clear to them that Yoongi was the one at fault in the situation. They weren’t unkind by any means, just distant. 

Meanwhile Yoongi was in his studio day and night composing something for you, something that would truly show you what you meant to him. He didn’t always know what to say, but where he never failed to communicate this feelings was through his music. He felt immensely guilty about how things had transpired. What would obviously look like him not caring to you could easily be attributed to his single-minded workaholism and general obliviousness. The timing was the worst part. Yoongi had wholeheartedly meant what he said, that he was more than okay with waiting until you were ready to have sex. It genuinely wasn’t that important to him. What was actually important to him was the feeling you gave him of being understood, loved, appreciated, cared for. He couldn’t imagine a life without you in it, and the fact that he’d put the most important thing to him in jeopardy was eating him alive. 

  Almost a week had passed since the day in the boys’ dorms before Yoongi finally decided to take matters into his own hands. He wanted to give you space to think, but because he knew you so well he was pretty sure you had shut down entirely as you sometimes did when things became overwhelming. He made his way over to your apartment, knocking on the door. You heard the sound from your place under the covers in bed, but chose to ignore it, hoping whoever it was would go away. The knocking got progressively louder, and still you pretended you couldn’t hear it. 

Yoongi silently thanked the universe that he had a key to your place. He unlocked the door and came inside, looking around your living room. As he’d expected, it was dark and empty. He immediately went to your bedroom and crouched down beside your bed, tapping you over the top of the covers your body was fully hidden by. You took a deep breath, knowing that there was no more avoiding to be done at this point. You pulled the covers down enough to let your head stick out. 

The first thing you noticed were his eyes. They were so full of sadness and concern. Even with as complicated as things were now, you felt your heart clench when you saw his face, your love for him overflowing. Yoongi rested his hand on the side of your face, caressing your cheekbone with his thumb. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. You nodded slightly, shutting your eyes for a moment. When you looked at him again, he had a more determined expression. “I can’t lose you. I love you more than I will ever be able to express but at the very least, I’ve tried. I wrote something… I want you to know how much I mean it when I say I’m serious about making things better.” He sighed quietly, pulling out his phone and pressing play. 

  By the end of the song you had tears running down your cheeks, leaking involuntarily from your eyes. You sat up enough to lean forward and kiss him. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” You said with a little smile. “I love you so much. I just want things to be okay again, no matter how hard we have to try to get there.” You confessed, feeling reassured. Your smile then grew as you grabbed his arm and pulled him toward you, signaling your desire for cuddles. Yoongi knew exactly what you wanted, so he climbed under the blankets and wrapped his arms around you to take his place as the big spoon. He was always your safe place, and all felt right with the world now that your refuge seemed safe once more. You didn’t expect it to be effortless to make sure this kind of situation didn’t repeat itself, but you didn’t really care. You now knew weren’t alone in this, and that was all you’d really wanted.

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