#back before they were friends and long before the complicated emotions rose their heads

[coffee--fiend]

The Star and the Storm

There was something so isolating about the stars that slept above Coerthas. The silent beacons flickered steadily, far away from the war-torn lands and innumerous lost souls wandering below, impassive observers to the countless tragedies ravaging the land.

‘An unfortunate trend this world is cursed to repeat, it would seem..’ Adhara’s ears fell as he sighed. Looking up at the mosaic of lights dancing above brought comfort, though. ‘So long as the stars shone above there would be a path forward..’ Or so he told himself. Even the heavens themselves hadn’t walked away from the last decade without their fair share of scars, as Menphina could attest. To think it could happen to the Lover, forever left to mourn her fallen hound below like any other mortal. It would be poetic if it wasn’t so disquieting. Would the stars also wink out in this lifetime? Would they too betray the steady promises of the past? He tore his eyes away from the sky with no small bit of effort. ‘It wouldn’t bode well to have an episode here, so close to the others. It’s not..’ His brow furrowed as he cut that thought off before it could be completed. This was his lot in life, regardless of how poorly fate had chosen. He would shame the brave souls who came before him if he broke here.

He turned his head just slightly enough to watch the others without giving away that he was paying them any attention. Noxis leaned carelessly against a scraggly tree, feet crossed over one another as he played a tune on the odd instrument he had called a harmonica. Alphinaud seemed to be intrigued at its design, even if none of his questions were being answered by the man in question. Fortunately for the boy, Gliese appeared to be filling him in on what details she knew after countless nights arguing with the viera to knock it off and choose a less offensive instrument. He exhaled, a small smile ghosting across his face as he watched their antics. To her credit, it was proof that the girl had been listening. Right now the last thing he wished to handle was their concern, not with his walls so close to tumbling down. His face fell as he once again found himself turning to the star’s silent regard in hope of an answer he knew did not exist.

Adhara had been named the Warrior of Light after the battle against the Ultima weapon, yet the title felt larger than he could ever live up to. He was just one man, and not even a particularly skilled one: mortal as any other, yet for reasons beyond his comprehension, it seemed the world looked to him as if he held all their answers, and all he could do in response was turn to the stars for the selfsame answers his betters believed him to have. He was a mere researcher, not some vaunted guardian of the star. He was, and would never be, someone special. That bloody mockery of a banquet was proof enough of his failures. He squeezed his eyes shut, dread washing over him at the mere thought of who was left behind. Minfilia, Thancred, Y’shtola, Papalymo, Yda.. Did they still draw breath? Were they rotting away in a dungeon somewhere within the belly of Ul’Dah, paying for his sins? The train of thought was interrupted when a warm gush of iron flooded his mouth. It would seem he had bitten his tongue as he mused yet again. Grimacing, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and counted down from ten. ‘Best not render myself injured and a fool..’

When he opened his eyes, he was greeted with the sight of a snowflake drifting down in front of him. He watched it as it drifted, dancing in both the wind and the warm puffs of breath that came from him. A strange sense of melancholy washed over him as the snow drifted down in gentle flurries around him. Such a beautiful thing, yet so deadly. ‘They say that each and every snowflake is unique, born unlike any other. I wonder if the isolation hurts them too..’ Once more, he felt his ears fall alongside his spirits.

He wrapped his tail closer to himself, a weak mockery of comfort he was too cowardly to seek out. Comfort he knew he needed, yet.. was he really in a position to be so meek? Would that not only distress his companions further? He couldn’t afford to show such weakness, to lose his heart could very well mean he would be the reason the others fell. He stared blankly ahead as he considered his options, holding his arms close and saying nothing.

“Are you unwell, my lord?” Adhara jumped at the sudden voice, shaking a sizable amount of snow out from both his hair and tail at the motion. Arashi stared at him from behind that featureless helmet of hers, iron face forever clad in a grimace. The two simply looked at one another while his mind caught up to the moment, yet the moment it did he couldn’t help but sigh. How embarrassing. Of all his companions, she was easily the most stalwart. She was sure footed, confident in each and every action whether on the battlefield or off, and never so weak as to break down and sob. What he would give to share in that confidence, perhaps then he would finally be someone worth the titles heaped upon him.

The knight must have realized he was back in the present, as she cocked her head to the side and appeared to give him a once over. “It isn’t wise to linger so far from the fire, follow me.” She only motions at him, turning away to begin heading back to the now dim and empty campsite. He was unsure of how long he had been sitting there, gazing sightlessly at the falling snow, but clearly enough time had passed if the pile of snow atop his head was any indication. His joints popped in protest once he stood, adding even more evidence that he may not like the answer to that particular question. He fell into step aside her without comment, more than aware there was no defense to give for his actions. At least Arashi was kind enough to not call him out for the fool he apparently was.

He must have been getting distracted again, as the thud of wood dropping into the now roaring fire snapped him out of his reverie. He blinked at the flames as they danced wildly within their pit, shaking his head. In the fire light, he could make out that the knight appeared to still be watching him closely, guarding whatever thoughts and judgements she had deep within her psyche. His ears lowered slightly as a wave of shame washed over him.

“I suppose I just have a lot on my mind this evening, please forgive my carelessness. I can assure you it won’t happen again.” He sighs, looking at a collection of pebbles and twigs before him in favor of making eye contact with his companion. He only heard the sound of rustling armor in response. ‘Typical Arashi..’ he thought, with just the slightest inkling of frustration. ‘If I were even a fraction as calm and collected as she, perhaps the others would still be here. Perhaps Gliese and Alphinaud wouldn’t cry themselves to sleep at night.’ He dragged his claws through his tail, glaring hard at the ground beneath him. ‘Some Warrior of Light I turned out to be..’

“You shouldn’t blame yourself, you know.” His eyes widened when he heard Arashi speak up from her place poking at the fire. “A shield can only take so many blows before it breaks. Everything has its limits.” He looked up and noticed her gaze was set upon him now, a faint white glow shining out from the eye of her helmet not reflecting the blaze between them. “People.. warriors, are no different my lord.”

“I am no shield, though. Just some lost scholar playing at being a guardian. Regardless, I’m not bothered or blaming myself. I’m just.. thinking.” He huffed, resting his head on his knees and just staring ahead. He was not sure what exactly she meant by bringing up a shield, but he knew an effort to distract him from the truth when he heard it.

“Are you really any different, or is that merely your regrets speaking? Forgive me for my breach of station, but I am certain that in this you are gravely mistaken.” He simply sighed, lazily dragging his eyes to the knight sat across from him, before raising his hand in a non committal gesture.

“You know I don’t really care for that protocol nonsense in the first place.”

At that, he hears an amused huff from the knight. “Fair enough.” He hears her readjust herself, drawing his eyes to her once more, but what really catches his attention is her drawing the massive greatsword that lives on her shoulder and plunging it into the earth.

“Back when I first picked up this sword, my master at the time taught me that there are two types of warriors in this world: Those who save and those who slay.. those warriors who would become living shields and those who would rather become an animated sword. They might use the same tools, but their mindset is what determines who they will be with a blade in hand.” She grabbed the handle of her sword, drawing it from the dirt and holding it aloft so that Adhara could better examine it.

The massive blade was black as pitch, he had known that long before, yet looking at it bathed in the amber light against the backdrop of the snow gave it a new weight. It was steady and sure, and in an indescribable way, something about that felt.. almost aware. Of both what it was, and what it must do. A shiver raced down his back at the mere thought, and he looked back towards Arashi with no small bit of trepidation.

“My sword has seen endless battles in my hand, bathed in the blood of the guilty and innocent alike, without even a moment’s hesitation. It is the judge, jury, and executioner all at once. That is what it means to be a sword. A sword will never falter, she must always aim true or her mission will end in death, and the death of everyone she is fighting to protect.” She sheathes the large greatsword, looking back at Adhara in the dancing fire light once more. “You may fear that you too are a sword, Adhara, but you do not have that kind of edge. You can’t have that edge, not when you have ever been a protector at heart.”

He looks down at the ground once more, a series of doubts racing through his mind all at once. While he could admit that she was correct in his inability to be truly ruthless even when he ought to be, he still couldn’t quite accept this idea that he was some form of shield. He had only failed to protect his companions, time and time again: it was a miracle they had gone as far as they had with himself at the helm.

“If I am meant to be a shield, then I am a badly broken one.” He mumbled, picking up a pinecone and examining it in the light.

“My comrades- the other scions, that is, were captured and seemingly imprisoned or worse back in Ul’Dah. We don’t even know if they made it through the night of that damned banquet, all we know is that they stayed behind so that we could escape. Of everyone who fought that day, I am the only one to have returned.” He clenches the pinecone, crushing it with his fist.

“Had I stayed behind sooner, would they still be here? Would they be safe?” He tosses the broken pinecone into the fire and rests his head back on his knees.

“Had I broken, would they have lived?”

The two of them say nothing, for the space of a moment. The only sound between them being the soft crackling of the fire and whisper of the wind. A wolf’s mournful cry echoes somewhere to the south, lost to the blizzard.

“Is that not the price of war, though? You can’t save them all, regardless of how hard you try.” He looks back at the knight, about to refute her statement, when he sees that she is also staring hard at the burning pinecone within the flames. “They were shields too, and just like yourself, they had people they needed to protect or they couldn’t live with themselves. Can you truly look within yourself and say you would have done any different in their shoes?”

Adhara re-examines his companion in the fire light, seeing an entirely new side of this argument he had initially dismissed as ridiculous. Was it truly that simple? Could he really accept that there was no one person at fault for that bloodbath beyond their foe? He wanted to recoil at the mere suggestion, but to do so would be disingenuous to his friends’ memories. No, as much as it pained him to admit, Arashi could have a point here: Not that it would change the fact that he still failed, in the end. He sighs, looking back down at the pinecone as it crumbles into a pile of ash. “At least then, perhaps I could have done something useful.”

“They chose to stay behind so that you could live because your life meant something to them. Hell, you still mean something to them even if you hide behind this cowl of ignorance.. They look at you like you hung the stars themselves. Surely that is worth factoring into your assessment, my lord.” He looks back at his knight one last time, something warm briefly fluttering in his chest. Despite everything about it feeling like a mischaracterization of his situation, he couldn’t dismiss her out of hand. She had her point, although he had never even considered that she would pay enough attention to make it in the first place. He offered her a soft smile, ears flicking as he did. “You are kind to say such things, my friend.”

“I am no such thing, my lord. Just another knight offering a different perspective.” She sat back, crossing her arms and leaning against the same gnarled tree Noxis had been enjoying prior. “Regardless, this conversation has gone on long enough. It would seem we have attracted prying ears, after all.” She just barely nods her head behind him.

His eyes widen, and he snaps around just quickly enough to make out a spotted ear and a white braid speeding back inside their tent, followed by harsh whispering. He sighs. ‘Teenagers..’ Shaking his head, he looks back at his companion and offers her one last grin, this time truly genuine.

“Thank you.. I think I really needed that. Though, I still insist that you are kind; you can’t change my mind on that front. I’ll make a friend of you, just wait and see.” Although she is still wearing the same snarling helmet as before, he can feel her rolling her eyes at him.

“Whatever you say, my lord.”

—---------

Wrote a little thing featuring my sillies back in HW,, i love them so much aaaaahhh

[sugusearrings]

( ' cursed ' )

i knew, deep down, i knew we'd fall apart, you'd break my heart. don't worry i'll be fine, you were only the love of my life i'll be here when you decide that you should still be mine made a song for ya, tore my heart out took the photographs, cut me out. keep my mouth shut, i keep my head down 3 words i'm cursed, i'm alone now.

— summary: things are just complicated with your best friend's older brother. but you decided to move on from the misleading games. but sukuna isn't sure he's ready for you to do so just yet. — genre: fluff to angst? — playing: cursed by wesghost —note(s): it's been so long since i written anything!! but this was based off these this short and this one i wrote months ago. i've been meaning to write it into a little mini-series. maybe. it was slightly rushed but i took advantage of the spark of inspiration i had at six in the morning. might be some spelling errors i tried my best to look for them. and in this au, sukuna is yuji's older brother even though he is his uncle. i wrote it before that information was out. — warning(s): au sukuna but he's still grumpy sukuna, toxic behavior, possessiveness, manipulation (kind of), getting a little physical, and lots of cursing, suggestive sexual interactions, and sexual comments. —word count: 1,198

His brow twitched. He also made a mental note to kill his younger brother.

It’s not unusual the door was open to his brother’s bedroom. It wasn’t unusual his friends were always over, unfortunately.

The girl with the short hair that was loud and just as dumb as him, the emo looking kid that just read his book, and then there was you.

Sukuna always found you weird. You liked all this cartoon stuff and into the same movies as his younger brother, Yuji. You were not his type at all. At one point, he thought you two were dating. Until he realize his brother’s crush was on some other girl.

You would be sitting on the floor next to Yuji or with Nobara.

But who the fuck was that kid?

He looked like he hasn’t slept in days and was taller than the rest. He looked like he’ll piss himself with the slightest noise. He watched him flinched when Nobara started yelling at Itadori about something.

What the fuck was he doing in his house?

Sukuna noticed how close you were sitting next to this damn kid. His brow twitched again. You were giving him those eyes. The same doe eyes you would give him when you would be laying on his bed. That’s when he knew. This was Yuta. Your supposed crush.

That’s when he couldn't take it any longer, his emotions got the best of him. He slammed the door close.

On the other side of the door, you flinched.

“The fuck is his problem?” Nobara scoffed going back on her phone. Yuji shrugged his shoulders.

“Sukuna’s always in a mood.” He answered simply looking back at the tv screen.

Your eyes just stared at the door, just having a feeling it just wasn’t a mood swing.

“Are you done being a baby?” Sukuna didn’t turn around hearing the sound of your voice in the kitchen. He continued to make himself something to eat.

“Speak to me like that again, I’ll kick your ass out.” He responded bluntly. You rolled your eyes at his empty threat. You walked over to the counter next to him, leaning against it. You gazed up at his much taller frame.

“You would never do it though.” That’s when he finally faced you. His right brow rose gazing back down at you.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He walked past you, making sure to bump into you in stumbled back causing you to stumble back. That’s when you felt your blood boiling and glared at him.

“What the fuck is your problem, Kuna?” You snapped. Sukuna just shrugged his shoulders acting nonchalant.

“Sukuna,” He corrected you, “and nothing s’ wrong. I don’t give a fuck remember?” He gazed down at you again. That’s when you bit the inside of your cheek so hard, you always drawn blood.

“Exactly so I don’t understand why you’re acting like a bitch.” You barked back. That’s when his crimson eyes widen. He slowly placed down whatever was in his hands.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me.” You challenged him as he began to walk closer to you. You oved back into the side of the fridge. “You’re acting like a bit — "

Your words were cut off by his tattoo hand wrapped around your throat. Your eyes grew wide with the tip of your ears burning up. His hand moved your head to look up at him as he glared down at you. He was so close you can sell the cologne lingering, along with a faint smell of weed.

“Keep it up and let’s see how your little boyfriend would like it if he knew how I handled that rude mouth of yours.” He squeezed your throat, not too much but enough to give a warning. But you were able to register what he said rather quickly.

“. . .are you jealous of Yuta, Kuna?”

“. . .”

He dropped his hand from your throat. He was going to turn away but you grabbed his arm to stop him. You were tired of him running and shutting down when calling him out on his feelings.

“You said you didn’t want anything serious, remember?” You whispered loudly.

“Why are you whispering? Scared he might hear?” He chuckled. He moved back to towering over you. Your back pressing against the side of the fridge now. “Not like I give a damn, I like when you’re loud.” His lips curled into his infamous grin.

“You are jealous!”

“There’s nothing to be jealous about. Okkotsu is scared of his own damn shadow.” He scoffed. “Not sure how he got your attention —"

“He’s nice.”

“The fuck does that even mean?” He replied clearly irritated with your answer.

“That means I like nice guys, Sukuna. Don’t play stupid.” His hand went back on your throat to squeeze it. You let out a sound you weren’t sure if it was a moan or a squeak. But it made Sukuna smirked.

“Nice guys, hm? Do you know this nice guy has a long term ex-girlfriend?” He questioned. But you nodded confidently.

“Yes! Yuta told me everything!”

“What an idiot.” Sukuna grumbled rolling his eyes. You looked up at him confused.

“Well unlike you, he doesn’t hide anything from me and he doesn’t like to play stupid games.” You tried to defend your crush but that made Sukuna chuckle. How adorable this was to him.

“Sure thing, brat. He just wants to be ' open and honest ' with you.” he slowly let go of your neck. But his thumb placed on your bottom lip, slowly tracing it. “But are you open and honest with him? About us?” His tone was low and sultry. It sent chills down your spine. You quickly looked away.

“Sukuna — "

“What happened to Kuna? You forgot about the name you gave me when you’re struggling to take it all in?” You knew what he was doing, trying to cast his spell over you again. This was the game you two played since the summer. But you pulled away. This game was draining. Emotional, physical, and mentally draining.

“You wanted nothing serious — "

“Shut up. I know what I said, woman.” He cut you off. His hand cupped your chin with his thumb back on your bottom lip. You fluttered your lashes up at him with his lustful gaze staring down at you. Somehow your hand was placed on his chest. “Come to my room.” He whispered just making you squeeze your thighs together. He leaned down further to have his lips inches away from yours.

“Name?”

Yuta’s voice was heard calling for you snapping you out of Sukuna’s spell. You shook your head and move your hand from his chest.

“I have to go — "

“Name.” Sukuna reached for your hand but you didn’t let him grab it.

“Everything’s okay, name?”

Both you and Sukuna looked over to see Yuta by the entrance of the kitchen. His dull blue hues didn’t even glance at you but directly over at Sukuna. Sukuna stared right back, with no emotion either. The tension was thick and here you are in the middle of it.

[itiswormtimebaby]

Strengths (and weaknesses)

Pairing: Biker!Bucky and Bug (+Brother’s best friend Bucky, Plus sized fem reader) AN: Bucky’s interlude. This installment is all about seeing things from a different perspective, and hopefully gaining some insight into why Bucky is handling things the way he is. Also, just a reminder that Steve is Bug’s adopted brother.  CW: Angst, references to underage sex (not explicit)/sex under the influence, smut, language, insecurities and low self esteem, unhealthy relationships, references to war/bodily harm (Bucky losing his arm), Bucky has complicated feelings when it comes to his prosthetic, 

Picks up shortly after Just the Tip

His room is dark, ceiling fan and ancient AC unit working to drive the heat of the afternoon away. You're asleep, at least he thinks you are, back rising and falling in a smooth rhythm, naked skin mostly hidden by the soft cotton sheet. Reaching out he allows one finger to trace smoothly down the soft rolls of your back, ghosting across where earlier he’d pressed to keep you cemented to the mattress. His cock stirs to life at the memory, he’d been inside of you, at least partly, he’d cum in you, he’d been so close…So close to fucking you the way you deserve, so close to giving you what you wanted, so close, so close, so-

For just a moment he’s fifteen again, fifteen with his pants around his ankles and beer on his breath, finishing quick, uncertainty knotted in his gut. She’d been a relative stranger, but nice enough, older than him by just over a year, more experienced. She’d left him with a smudge of crimson across his cheek, a hello and goodbye all rolled into one. He didn’t regret it, at least he didn’t think he did. It could have been worse. 

But then again it could have been better. Dolores, Dot, she was better. She was more than nice enough, she was kind, considerate. A good first girlfriend. Sex with her was saccharine, but in hindsight he suspects they were too young to be having it, their emotional bond not strong enough to carry their physical. They see-sawed from off to on, through many what if’s until the final what if led to the final goodbye. If he had to guess he would say she still thinks of him fondly (if at all), thoughts filtered through the rose colored haze of first love. At least he hopes she does, it’s how he sees her, a pleasant memory. 

He recalls you around that same time, not much younger but it certainly felt that way. Steve’s kid sister, Bug, as in bug off, as in shoo fly shoo, as in an annoyance. He’d loved you though, not in the way he loved Dot, but in a way that felt substantial none-the-less. He’d have done anything for you. Still would, though the motivation has changed significantly. 

He pulls back his fingers as if burned when you whimper softly in your sleep, head burrowing further into the silk pillowcase he bought just for you. It’s a silly thought but he wonders if, even while unconscious, you can feel his longing for you, how desperately he wants to love you, to be enough for you. He wonders if he would have been enough before- before the war, before his arm, before her. The lenses through which he sees her are not rosy. 

After he’d been medically discharged from the military, left arm and peace of mind blown to shit, he’d been desperate for distractions. First it was the club, then a slew of bodies happy to warm his bed for an evening, and then- well then he’d hit a wall. The PROSPECT patch on his kutte was long gone, the sex going from exciting to mundane, and then she’d walked in. She was pretty, and a real spitfire as his Ma would’ve said, most importantly she kept him on toes, she kept him distracted. The sex was phenomenal, the strong cornerstone of an otherwise rocky relationship. Bucky wasn’t sure if he saw her as his forever, if he ever had or would, but with over two years spent together he wasn’t willing to just throw it away. “We’re both just very… passionate,” he’d assured Steve after he’d come to Bucky with concerns, having heard them in a knock-down-drag-out-fight in the parking lot of the clubhouse (he swore his back nearly scarred from how deeply her nails cut into it that night as he fucked all his anger from the argument into her). 

It hadn’t been the same after that, after his best friend had held up a mirror to show him just how unhealthy his relationship had become; the final nail in the coffin was Steve asking “What if Bug was in a relationship like that, you’d be cool with it?” Bucky felt ashamed. So he tried, he tried a lot of things; he took her on expensive dates, bought her jewelry, quit allowing explosive arguments to serve as foreplay to rabid sex. He’d overheard her and her friends one night, they talked about how brave and selfless she was to love a man like him, a man so obviously broken. He wondered if that was the conversation she had in mind when later she looked at him and said; “I’ve seen all the ugliest parts of you, Bucky Barnes, and I stayed. Who else would?” 

She had a point, didn’t she? He hadn’t come back home whole, wasn’t the same man that left. Not as good with people, not as charming, not as hopeful…But he was trying. Things seemed to be improving. She stayed- until she didn’t. He was confused, he’d been doing everything right, he was sure of it. That hadn’t stopped her from leaving, calling him miserable, hopeless, a sorry ass loser- a great fuck but a shitty boyfriend. A great fuck. “Word of advice? Stick to what you’re good at.” A great fuck. “I’ve seen all the ugliest parts of you, Bucky Barnes, and I stayed.” But she hadn’t, not in the end.

A great fuck. 

You look so innocent in your sleep, even with his cum slowly leaking out of you. He carefully adjusts his position until he has you  nestled in his arms, back pressed to his chest. Fuck he didn’t want to lose this. 

He’d loved you in some capacity for well over a decade, since you became Bug, as in bug off, as in shoo fly shoo, as in an annoyance. Steve’s kid sister. But it had been ages, really, since he saw you that way. Sure, you were still his Bug but you were also a woman now, one that laughed like the girl he grew up with but that was also so…confident, funny, smart, pragmatic when it counted and silly when it didn’t. Kind, and good, and bright, so fucking bright. And he, he’s broken... That night you’d gotten high, that night that changed everything, he could hardly believe his luck. You’d opened the door for him, given him an in for something more. A better man would have shut it, would have encouraged you to find someone more worthy, but he never claimed to be a good man, he was selfish and he wanted you. When you’d agreed to let him date you first he knew that was his chance. He may not be worthy but he could prove he was willing to try anything to be, he’d take you on dates, smooth out any rough edges with mind numbing pleasure, keep you physically sated. That was the part he was good at. 

A great fuck. 

That was what you’d called him over that night to be “Please, Bucky, please, you have to fuck me.” And he would, would just like he promised, but he couldn’t- not yet. Today had been too close a call, he’d barely been able to stop at the tip, your tight heat calling him home. But he had to be patient, you’d initiated this all because of sex, if he gave it to you too soon you might not stick around long enough for him to show you he could be good at the rest too; he could, right?

A great fuck.

…but a shitty boyfriend.

[emonaculate]

Smoke Slow (S?ABT universe)

Author Note: Drabble that was in my head real bad and I could not help but to write it out now. This may or may not be added to the actual fic later, but as of right now it is non-canon.. I just really like my version of Gojo right now.

❥ Rating: PG-13

❥ Pairing: Spiderman!Gojo x Black!Y/n

❥ Warnings Include: Cigarettes, Y/n feels survivors guilt, Jealousy, Miscommunication, Alcohol consumption, ANGST, Hurt-comfort, Gojo and Y/n really need a hug, past-established relationship, Violence, OC-mentioning, Major character death mentioning

❥ Synopsis: Upon returning to Japan, Y/n realizes she can no longer escape her past. Conflicted by past events, she must reunite and have an honest, heartfelt conversation with the her former lover; the beloved webslinger.

Y/n walked the streets of New Tokyo, familiar yet strangely foreign now, her heart weighed down by the passage of time. Six years had passed since she left for the States to be with her mother, and the city, though unchanged, felt different.

As she silently moved through the downtown streets, groups of teenagers raced by, their laughter echoing against the towering skyscrapers that glittered like jewels in the night sky. She watched them with a soft smile, amused, as memories of her own youth flooded back—when she and her friends had done the same, running wild without a care, with no thought of the future.

Y/n would give anything to return to those days, when she was a quick-witted teenager, unafraid to challenge authority, surrounded by the loyal friends who backed her every word. But that was over now.

Y/n's somber thoughts pulled her away from memories of the past as she made her way to the Shibuya memorial. What had once been a beautiful park, filled with tranquil lakes and winding trails, had been transformed into a burial site to honor those who lost their lives during the Shibuya incident six years ago. She held the white lilies she had been carrying tightly in her hand as she approached the plaque, where a collection of flowers, cards, and candles lay in tribute.

No doubt, others were grieving for their loved ones as well. Y/n watched as families dressed in dark clothing spoke quietly among themselves, still mourning the tragedy. A wave of nausea rose in her throat; she longed to comfort the strangers still affected by that day, but she knew there was nothing she could say. After all, it was her fault in a way—at least, that was how she perceived the situation.

“Y/n?” A hesitant voice called out.

Y/n placed the flowers gently in front of the pillar and turned toward the sound, offering a weak smile to the shorter brunette woman standing before her. It was Shoko.

Shoko had been one of Y/n's closest friends during her time in Japan. Their relationship had begun on shaky ground, rooted in the circumstances that had led Y/n to move in with Shoko's family. When Y/n's grandmother passed away shortly after her sixteenth birthday, her mother, struggling with a devastating divorce, was in no condition to care for her daughter. As a last resort, she sent Y/n to live with the man who had uprooted her life in the first place: Ken Ieiri, the renowned international doctor with whom Y/n's mother had been having a seven-month affair.

Ken tried to cover his tracks, keeping both his daughter and Y/n in the dark about his actions, claiming that he would be the host parent for Y/n during her time in Japan. When the truth finally came out, it only made things more complicated. The issues he had been having with his wife also came to light, much to Shoko's surprise.

Through it all, Y/n stood by Shoko, providing support during the tumultuous times, and their bond deepened. They became as close as thieves, referring to each other as sisters and siblings.

"Hi, Koko."

The nickname slipped from Y/n's lips more easily than she cared to admit, watching as Shoko’s posture shifted and her eyes clouded with unspoken emotions. Despite the casual atmosphere, Y/n realized she hadn't spoken to Shoko in nearly four years. They had kept in touch for two years after Y/n left, but something had changed; the weight of guilt had consumed her, making it impossible to respond to Shoko's messages or daily check-ins. That third year back in the States had been the hardest for some reason.

“Let me treat you to coffee,” Shoko replied, desperation creeping into her voice as she looked at Y/n, a flurry of questions racing through her mind.

Why was Y/n back? Why had she stopped replying to any of Shoko's texts? Did Satoru know she was back?

The two women sat across from each other in the booth, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Y/n wasn’t sure where to start; she knew she owed Shoko some sort of explanation, but deep down, she felt there was no way to truly convey what had happened.

“Hasn’t been this silent since Dad admitted he was in love with your mom,” Shoko said, breaking the ice as she lifted her carefully crafted cinnamon brown sugar latte.

Y/n blinked in shock before a smile broke across her face, laughter bubbling up at Shoko’s comment. “Oh my god, don't bring that up!”

As the heavy tension lifted, the two began to chat about how life had treated them. Shoko shared her excitement about opening a veterinary clinic as a passion project, while Y/n explained her internship as a reporter for The New York Times. So much had happened in the six years since they last connected that it felt almost impossible to cover it all.

“So, why are you back in New Tokyo?” Shoko finally asked, taking a sip of the hearty soup she had ordered to combat the chill outside.

Y/n shifted in her seat, picking up her own cup and taking a long sip from the black coffee, nothing added to it. The familiar taste brought her comfort, reminding her of her childhood spent on her grandparents' farm in the southern heat. Every morning without fail, her grandma would sit on the porch, watching the sunrise with a steaming mug of black coffee in hand.

“I’ve had some time to reflect, and I’ve been speaking with my psychologist,” Y/n said. “She suggested that my best course of action would be to come back here. I’ll never find peace until I forgive myself and allow myself to move forward.”

Shoko nodded quietly, truly looking at Y/n for the first time in years. It had been so long since she had seen her favorite person. Dark circles under Y/n’s eyes rivaled her own, and her copper curls had grown well past the shoulder-length she used to maintain. Y/n's face appeared thinner, the familiar roundness of her cheeks almost completely gone. The gray oversized turtleneck she wore seemed so out of character, but Shoko knew better than to comment; Y/n was still grieving, and the path to healing was far from over.

“That sounds like a good plan,” Shoko replied softly.

Y/n nodded, fidgeting with her mug before meeting Shoko's warm brown gaze.

“Have you heard from Gojo...?”

Y/n picked at the holes in her ripped and faded baggy jeans as the crisp night wind tickled her nose, standing outside the maroon-colored apartment door with the number B7 crafted in silver. Shoko had given her this address, revealing that Gojo had been living here for the past four years. Located on the shadier side of town, Y/n was surprised that someone like Satoru would be okay with living in such an area, regardless of his abilities and persona.

Yet, it made sense; being in a rougher neighborhood could allow him to save more people and keep the criminals at bay.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n closed her eyes and raised her hand to knock on the door, butterflies swirling in her stomach. Would Satoru even want to see her? What would he say? They had ended things on such bad terms, and the thought of his reaction made her nervous.

A moment of silence followed her knock, and embarrassment crept up her cheeks. The gift bag of snacks and treats she had prepared, things she remembered Satoru liked, suddenly felt like a thousand pounds. What if he wasn’t even home? He could be out on patrol for all she knew.

Suddenly, the door swung open to reveal a tall, slender Black woman wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt that hung seductively off one shoulder. The woman’s feline-like hazel eyes narrowed into a glare as they fell on Y/n and the basket in her hands.

“Can I help you, sweetheart?” The unknown woman's voice was sharp and curt as she placed a manicured hand on her hip, sizing Y/n up.

In the past, Y/n might have called out the hostile energy this woman was projecting over something as simple as answering the door. But now, on her path to healing, she knew better than to cause a scene over something so trivial.

“Does Satoru Gojo live here? My name is—” Y/n started, but the woman cut her off, waving her hand dismissively.

“Yeah, I know who you are. He’s not here at the moment, but you can wait if you want,” she stated rudely before turning on her heel and stepping back into the apartment.

Y/n’s eye twitched as she watched the woman walk away into the apartment. This was clearly going to test all of her practice in patience and understanding. Anger bubbled beneath the surface, eager to be released. Taking a deep breath, she followed the woman inside and closed the door behind her.

To her surprise, the apartment was cozy. Hues of green, brown, yellow, and orange dominated the decorations, creating a warm atmosphere. Various pottery creations were scattered around the living room and small kitchen area, adding a touch of personality.

“Set that shit down on the counter beside you,” the woman called out, not even glancing back at Y/n, who was still standing by the door.

The woman perched herself on a high bar stool at the dining room table. She sat in a way that seemed almost uncomfortable, her feet resting in a catlike stance as she stared intently at Y/n.

Y/n had to admit the woman was strikingly beautiful—model-worthy, even. Her hair was styled in a messy white pixie cut, and her ears were adorned with numerous piercings. The moles on her face were artfully placed: one along her left cheek, another beneath her right eye, and one on the left side of her chin.

"Salomé." The woman gave her name, as she continued to dissect Y/n with her eyes.

Y/n had a myriad of questions she wanted to ask Salomé regarding Satoru. Though she knew she had no right, jealousy bubbled within her at the thought that this woman seemed to be staying with him, and judging by the decorations, it appeared to have been for a while.

“You dying or something?” Salomé asked, amusement evident in her voice.

“Excuse me?” Y/n shot back, annoyance creeping into her tone.

She had tried to be polite, but Salomé's holier-than-thou attitude was starting to get under her skin. Whether Salomé sensed this was unclear, as she maintained her emotionless demeanor, continuing to test Y/n’s patience.

“I mean, you’ve been gone for a fucking long time with no contact, so I’m trying to figure out why you’re in my home,” she replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Last I checked, this is an apartment, not a house,” Y/n snapped, glaring at Salomé.

Despite her efforts to remain civil, Y/n found it increasingly difficult to tolerate Salomé’s nasty attitude. Therapy be damned. Salomé clicked her tongue in response to Y/n's petty retort, a smirk spreading across her face.

“You’re right. It is an apartment, but it’s home to Satoru. After all, he chooses to be here instead of that big ole, lonely penthouse he has downtown.”

Y/n couldn’t take it anymore. She stalked toward Salomé, her ears burning with anger, ready to chew her out and leave this frustratingly beautiful apartment.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Y/n yelled.

Salomé hopped off her chair, towering over Y/n, crossing her arms over her chest. She seemed oddly relaxed despite the aggression radiating from Y/n.

“Mm, you trying to solve it, little miss perfect?” Salomé taunted.

Without thinking, Y/n reacted and swung, her fist connecting with Salomé’s face. The nickname had struck a nerve; she hadn’t heard it since Geto’s passing, and she sure as hell wasn’t ready to hear it from some woman sizing her up. Caught up in her emotions, Y/n hadn't realized Salomé had gone deathly quiet, holding her cheek as the taste of copper filled her mouth.

“You don’t know me. Don’t talk to me like you do, bitch,” Y/n shouted, anger boiling over as tears welled in her eyes.

She had been doing so well at not thinking about him—the bane of her guilt: Geto Suguru. It was her fault. All her fault. If only she hadn’t been there that day. He was the one who should be alive.

In the blink of an eye, Salomé closed the distance, her presence overpowering as a wave of bloodlust radiated from her. Y/n was jolted from her thoughts by the sheer intensity in Salomé’s gaze, her nails lengthening and sharpening as a low growl escaped her throat.

“I’m gonna have so much fun,” Salomé purred, her voice dripping with malice.

Y/n's eyes widened as Salomé lunged for her, only to be halted by the familiar sound of a THWIP connecting with the back of her hand, pulling her backwards.

"That's enough, Sal," Satoru called out sternly as he appeared through the now-opened kitchen window.

Salomé's plump two-toned lips formed into a frown as she turned her attention to Satoru, who had only just removed his mask, rolling her eyes in annoyance. She absolutely hated that he always interrupted her fun.

“Whatever, disconnect your fluid, spider-boy. I wasn’t going to do anything but scratch her,” she retorted.

Satoru shook his head in amusement, seemingly used to Salomé’s spoiled attitude. He tugged the web closer, pulling her further away from Y/n and closer to him.

“Sure, you were,” he replied sarcastically.

Once Salomé was close enough, Satoru removed the webbing from her hand, taking in the bruise forming on her cheek and her split lip. Both of them knew she could have easily dodged Y/n's punch, which meant she had let it happen on purpose. Satoru could only assume it was so Salomé would have a reason to retaliate. Thankfully, he had arrived in time to prevent what could have been a disaster.

“It will heal. I’m fine,” Salomé interrupted his thoughts, pulling away from Satoru and turning to head into her room.

“Where are you going?” he questioned, still not addressing Y/n, who stared at him in silence and awe.

“Out,” Salomé yelled back, slamming the door to her room. Her departure usually meant trouble for Spiderman to deal with.

Satoru cursed under his breath, realizing this was going to be a problem later. A riled-up Salomé was a recipe for disaster; she was definitely going to create a scene outside as Black Cat, and he would have to clean it up.

Y/n looked at the man Satoru had grown into. His suit was different, red with accents of blue and black, and it looked handmade. He was beyond muscular, no doubt a result of his years as a masked vigilante. His hair was shaggier but still untamable, styled with a clean undercut. His cerulean eyes met her dark ones and just like that, Y/n was teleported back to being a teen blindly in love.

It had been six long years since their messy breakup, a turbulent chapter of their lives that still lingered in the corners of his mind. The weight of unspoken words hung in the air, thick with the tension of unresolved feelings.

Y/n felt her heart race under the intensity of his stare, the memories flooding back like a tidal wave. She remembered the laughter, the whispered secrets, and the raw passion that had once defined their relationship. But she also recalled the pain—the arguments, the misunderstandings, and the hurtful things they had said.

Satoru's expression softened as he took in the changes that time had wrought on Y/n. She was still beautiful, but the years had etched lines of experience around her eyes. He could see the remnants of her past struggles reflected in her gaze, a mix of resilience and vulnerability that pulled at his heart.

In that moment, neither of them needed words. They stood at the precipice of their shared history, each lost in their thoughts yet connected by an invisible thread of familiarity. It was as if time had folded, collapsing the distance between their past and present into this singular moment.

Finally, Y/n broke the stillness, her voice barely above a whisper. "Satoru…" But the sound hung in the air, unfinished, as if the weight of everything they had been through held her back.

Satoru’s heart thudded in his chest, emotions swirling within him—regret, longing, and a flicker of hope. He opened his mouth to speak, but words eluded him. Instead, he took a step closer, his eyes searching hers for answers.

Y/n felt small under Satoru's towering presence; he had grown so much taller in the years since they last saw each other. Subconsciously, she placed a hand on his cheek, her touch tentative, as if she were afraid he might dissolve into nothing if she pressed too hard.

“Satoru—”

“You smoke?”

They spoke in unison, the intensity of their eye contact unbroken. Y/n couldn’t help but smile as she nodded, and Satoru responded with a nod of approval, the corners of his lips curling up ever so slightly.

Finally, he stepped away from her, granting Y/n a moment to remember how to breathe.

“Let me change, and I’ll meet you on the balcony,” he said, heading toward his room.

Y/n couldn’t help the wave of relief that washed over her at the thought of Satoru going into a separate room instead of the one Salomé had entered just moments before. The prospect of having even a little space felt like a reprieve, a chance to gather her thoughts before facing the complexity of their reunion.

As Satoru disappeared into his room, Y/n took a deep breath, allowing herself to feel the mixture of anticipation and anxiety that swirled within her. It was a small step forward, but it felt monumental, like the first light breaking through after a long, dark night..

Satoru emerged from his room, clad in a fitted black compression T-shirt that accentuated his muscular frame and gray sweatpants that hung comfortably on his hips. He balanced a couple of cold beers in one hand and a pizza box in the other, the savory aroma wafting through the air as he stepped onto the balcony.

“Here,” he said, tossing a soft blanket over Y/n’s shoulders. “Just in case you get cold.” The warmth of his gesture wrapped around her like a comforting embrace, igniting a flicker of familiarity that eased the tension in her chest.

They leaned against the balcony railing, the city skyline sprawling out before them, glittering under the starry sky. Satoru opened a beer and took a long sip, his gaze drifting momentarily into the distance. Y/n followed suit, the cool drink refreshing as it slid down her throat.

After a moment of silence, she pulled out a cigarette, her hands slightly trembling as she lit it. Satoru joined her, the flicker of the lighter illuminating his face for a brief moment. Their eyes met, and he offered a small, hesitant smile, a silent acknowledgment of their shared history.

With each puff, the smoke swirled between them, mingling with the winter night air. They began to catch up, their conversation flowing hesitantly at first, filled with light-hearted anecdotes about their lives over the past six years. Each laugh felt like a small step toward bridging the gap that had grown between them.

Yet, beneath the surface, the weight of their unresolved issues lingered. They both knew that the elephant in the room—the reason for their breakup—loomed large, unspoken but ever-present.

Y/n could feel the tension mounting as they danced around the topic, their laughter mingling with the underlying anxiety of what needed to be addressed. Satoru’s occasional sidelong glances caught her off guard, sending a rush of warmth through her, but she quickly masked her feelings with a playful smirk.

“Your girlfriend is a mutant?” Y/n finally asked, trying to mask her curiosity with casual indifference.

“My friend,” Satoru corrected, taking another drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling into the night air. “And yeah, she is.”

“Yeah, well, tell her that. She seems awfully fond of you,” Y/n retorted, rolling her eyes, unable to hide the jealousy seeping into her tone.

Satoru paused, nodding as he considered his relationship with Salomé. “We’ve hooked up a few times,” he admitted, his voice steady but tinged with something Y/n couldn't quite place.

Oh. An awful feeling washed over her, but she knew it wasn’t fair to voice her discomfort. It had been years; expecting him to wait for her when she hadn’t even given any sign of wanting to get back together was unreasonable. Still, the realization twisted in her gut.

“Oh.”

“Don’t do that shit, Y/n.” He rubbed his temple, balancing the cigarette between his fingers as frustration flickered in his eyes.

“Do what? The bitch you’re fucking attacked me—”

“You hit her first, and I stopped her before she could touch you,” Satoru replied, his voice firm despite the irritation creeping up his neck at Y/n's attitude.

Why did he always seem to gravitate toward the most spoiled and entitled women?

“Yeah, but what if you weren’t there in time?”

“Dammit, Y/n. You know I’d never let anything happen to you,” he snapped, cutting her off, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that made her heart race.

In that moment, the air between them crackled with unspoken tension, a reminder of the bond they once shared and the walls they had both built in the years since their breakup. Y/n felt the weight of his words, but the jealousy still lingered, battling against the flicker of warmth that came from his unwavering protection.

“Yeah, well, I still don’t like her,” Y/n shrugged, trying to act nonchalant despite the way his piercing gaze made her feel.

“She’s just protective. She wants to make sure I don’t get hurt. I’m guessing she was trying to scare you off before I got here,” Satoru replied, his tone steady but laced with an undercurrent of irritation.

“Or maybe she’s just a bitch. Whatever image of me you’re feeding her to make her act like that is wrong.” The words slipped out before Y/n could think, and she instantly regretted mentioning Salomé, especially in the context of their breakup.

“So I’m wrong to say you broke up with me after my best friend died?” Satoru’s voice turned icy, his eyes hardening as they bore into hers.

“Satoru—”

“I was wrong to say that you didn’t even have the guts to tell me in person? You left a letter in my apartment the night before my college entry exam?” His tone sharpened, cruel and unyielding, as he crushed the beer can in his hand effortlessly.

“Sator—”

“I was wrong to say that Shibuya haunts me too, but I was there for you in any way I could be, while you only cared about yourself. You didn’t even give me a chance to fight for us, for this.”

“IM NOT STRONG LIKE YOU!” Y/n screamed into the night, her voice echoing off the buildings. She felt drained, the weight of Satoru’s righteous anger crashing over her like a wave.

In that moment, the truth of her words hung heavy between them, a testament to the scars their past had left. The air surrounding the pair was overflowing with tension, both knowing they were standing on the precipice of a conversation they had both been avoiding for far too long.

"Y/n-"

Now it was Y/n’s turn to be heard, to explain what she should have said years ago.

“Satoru, I’m not like you,” she began, her voice trembling. “You hold the weight of the world on your shoulders and balance it gracefully. I’m a mess. I can’t get his face out of my head. Every night, I have nightmares about Shibuya and how it wouldn’t have spiraled out of control if I hadn’t been there. All those people died because you chose to save me. Geto died because you chose to save me.” She choked back sobs, gripping the metal railing tightly, silently grateful that the night sky shielded her tears from view.

“Hey, Shibuya was not your fault. Nobody could have known what was going to happen,” Satoru replied softly, but Y/n shook her head vehemently.

“Yes, it is. Satoru, you had the choice to let me die or let thousands die, and you chose to save me.”

Satoru fell silent, memories flooding back to that fateful night. He recalled the six villains he had taken down in the past, now teaming up to try and end him once and for all. Among them had been his best friend, Geto. Their friendship had crumbled after the death of Riko Amanai, that had changed them both forever.

As Spiderman, Satoru had easily dispatched five of the attackers. But when it came to Geto, he hesitated. The love he felt for his childhood friend was a bond that ran deeper than he had ever felt for anyone else. When Geto realized that Satoru couldn’t bring himself to hurt him, he issued an ultimatum: let Y/n die or stop the bomb that would blow up the busiest highway in all of New Tokyo.

Satoru had begged Geto not to make him choose. He even offered to sacrifice his own life in exchange, but nothing he said could satisfy his friend, who had been too far gone. Geto wanted Satoru to feel the same despair he had endured when Riko died, the helplessness that had consumed him.

But what had gone unaccounted for was Satoru’s profound selfishness and skill. Just as he was good hero, he couldn’t bear to lose Y/n too—not after losing Sayori, his sister, who had sacrificed herself to stop a villain too strong for Spiderman to face alone. Yet, he managed to do the impossible and do both; stop the bomb and save Y/n.

Enraged, Geto set off another bomb in an undisclosed area in the city and proceeded to launched himself at the couple, his fury fueled by the belief that Satoru’s choices had led to his suffering. He was tired of bearing the weight of the consequences alone. Despite the threat Geto posed, Satoru couldn’t bring himself to deliver the final blow.

As they engaged in a fierce battle, Satoru quickly realized that Geto wasn’t in control of his actions; he was being manipulated by an alien symbiote named Kenjaku. In that moment of clarity, Satoru understood that he wasn’t just fighting his best friend—he was fighting for his soul.

Desperation surged within Satoru as he recalled all the moments they had shared, all the laughter and dreams that had once bound them together. With a heavy heart, he made the agonizing decision to fulfill Geto’s final request: to ensure that no one else would be harmed by his hands.

In an act of mercy, Satoru focused his energy, channeling it into a powerful blow that would free Geto from the symbiote's grasp. As he struck, he felt a pang of sorrow and regret, knowing that this was the end of an era—a painful farewell to a friendship that had meant everything to him.

Y/n and Satoru had been there with the real Geto during his final moments, each of them holding one of his hands, sobbing uncontrollably as he took his last breath. The weight of their grief hung heavy in the air, a tangible reminder of the bond they had shared and the tragic loss that now enveloped them.

“Y/n, people were going to die regardless,” Satoru finally said, his voice trembling with the remnants of emotion. “The point was to make sure I would fall into the same despair that Geto had experienced. The symbiotes feed on the hopelessness of their hosts.”

His words echoed in Y/n’s mind, a bitter truth that cut deep. She felt the anger and confusion swirling within her, struggling to reconcile the pain of losing Geto with the reality of what had transpired. The symbiote’s twisted motives had ensnared them all, dragging them into a cycle of despair and loss.

“So you’re saying it was all part of their plan?” Y/n's voice cracked, the vulnerability creeping into her tone. “That you were meant to suffer like he did?”

Satoru nodded, his gaze distant as he wrestled with the implications of his choices. “That’s what they wanted. To manipulate my emotions, to turn me against myself. Geto was just a pawn in their game, and so was I.”

Y/n took a shaky breath, trying to process the enormity of it all. She had witnessed the destruction caused by their battles, the lives lost, and the scars left behind. But hearing Satoru articulate the symbiote's twisted intentions brought a new layer of anguish.

“I just wish…” she began, but the words caught in her throat, unable to fully articulate the depth of her sorrow.

“I know,” Satoru replied softly, his eyes reflecting a mix of pain and understanding. “I wish things could have been different too.”

“I’m sorry I left,” Y/n finally said, her voice barely above a whisper as she avoided making eye contact with the man she loved so dearly. The weight of her apology hung in the air between them, a fragile acknowledgment of the pain that had defined their separation.

Satoru remained silent, the tension thick as he processed her words. He could feel the regret emanating from her, a mirror to the guilt that had plagued him since that fateful day. It was an admission they both needed but had been too afraid to voice until now.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” she continued, her hands fidgeting with the blanket draped over her shoulders. “I thought distancing myself would help you heal, help us both heal. But I see now that I was wrong.”

His heart ached at her confession, the sorrow in her eyes resonating deeply within him. “You don’t have to apologize,” he finally said, his voice steady yet tinged with emotion. “I should have fought harder to keep you by my side. We were both hurting, and I didn’t know how to reach out.”

Y/n finally met his gaze, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I should have communicated better, should have told you how much I was struggling. Instead, I just… ran away.”

Satoru stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking as he searched her face for understanding. “We were both caught up in our pain, but we can’t change the past. What matters is that we’re here now.”

.

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Another author's note: This was super sad but was an idea I was testing out, I'm still on the fence I want to use a plot line to this and I'm still tweaking how I want Black Cat to be introduced because any spiderman fan knows you cant have a spiderman story without a good ole two women one peter.. or Gojo. I had a hard time deciding on who should be Black Cat but I figured the best bet would just be creating a character for it. Let me know what you guys think in the comments. I'm so excited to share my story with you all <3

[queenofbaws]

Number 11 with jossam (Sam rescues Josh au perhaps?)

He'd been trying not to look at her. It hadn't been going well.

Sam had been friends with the girls for a long time - a long, long time - so Josh had (foolishly) believed he'd seen her in every light you could see a person. He'd seen her face lit up with birthday candles, he'd seen her sympathetically shepherd Hannah through crises, he'd seen her furiously competitive on board game nights, he'd seen her subtly wiping tears away at the end of a sappy movie marathon, he'd seen her sleep-rumpled and bleary-eyed at the kitchen table, he'd seen it all.

Or so he'd thought, until tonight.

She was trying not to look at him too, but he suspected that had less to do with some complicated tangle of emotions in her chest and was instead more about the glare of her hiking headlamp. When she spoke to him, it was from the corner of her mouth; when she looked at him, it was from her periphery. She didn't want to hurt his eyes, but in that moment he would've gladly let her blind him, if only to take his focus off the agony in his guts.

He'd ruined it. All of it. He didn't even know was 'it' was, anymore...if there'd ever been an 'it' to start with. When had he decided that a taste of revenge was worth throwing this away - throwing her away? It had made sense to him, once. In the hard light of day, it had made all the sense in the world.

Now Sam was quiet, and she was grim-faced, and there was a scratch on her eyebrow that wouldn't stop oozing blood. Her nose was red. Her cheeks were streaked with grime and mascara. Her lips were starting to look awfully pale from the cold.

And there was nothing - repeat: nothing, ladies and gents - in her eyes. She was a robot, an automaton, guiding him silently through the mine with the Terminator's conviction. Not for the first time, he wondered if maybe this was all a hallucination too, if he was simply imagining the mannequin he'd dressed in her clothes coming to life, adding one more hollow ghost to his current list of hauntings.

Then they reached the water.

"It's going to be cold," she said. Mouthed, really. She took a deep breath through her nose before lowering herself in, and though she barely flinched as she did it, there was no missing the way her teeth started chattering almost immediately. "However cold you're thinking? Double that, okay? But we have to cross through here."

He got as far as his calves before his body rejected it. His muscles locked, cramped, turned to goddamn iron, and before he could catch himself, he was down, down, down in the icy blackness of the underground pool. Not that 'icy' was the right word; not that 'blackness' even came close.

His heart was in his mouth when Sam yanked him back up, lodged so thickly at the back of his tongue that he could barely get a breath in. His teeth chattered, his blood turned to slush in his veins, and he was suddenly the most awake he'd been in twelve goddamn miserable months.

He whipped his head towards her, not giving a single shit about the headlamp anymore, but that was when her grip tightened and she pushed him deeper into the water again.

In the space of that second, two certainties came over him: One, Sam was taking her pound of flesh for what he'd put her through, what he'd forced her to watch him put the others through; and two, he understood. He wouldn't (couldn't) fight her. He deserved to be plunged into that dark, freezing void forever and ever amen - she deserved to hold his head down until the bubbles stopped.

But his head didn't go under at all.

Her hand covered his mouth as best it could, given her trembling. She hunched her body flush to the edge of the pit and pulled him tightly against her, both of them sunk low with only their chins above the water. He had just enough time to wonder what was happening, what she was doing, and then he saw the ripples.

Josh didn't have words for the thing that rose out of the water, then. Neither did he have words for how grateful he was that Sam had sensed it. It stood slowly, unfolding inch by inch, foot by foot, until it loomed over them, a bone-white monstrosity made of angles and teeth.

The beam of Sam's headlamp shone directly in its face, but it didn't seem to notice. Its head tilted this way, that way, this way again, and without warning it took off like a shot, doubling back the way they'd come on limbs connected by too many joints.

He didn't know how long they remained there in the water, huddled against each other like little kids trying to escape the rain under an awning. He wasn't even sure he noticed when Sam took her hand from his mouth. But when sense returned to him (inasmuch as it had that night), she was leading him through the murk again, their progress slow and silent and freezing, freezing cold.

She scrambled up the ledge first, flinging the frigid water from her arms, then held her arms out to him, beckoning him to join her.

But he was too numb. Too cold. His body didn't move the way he needed it to without her to guide him, and the thought of heaving his waterlogged form out of the pit and onto that ledge was...it was...

"I'm going to help lift you up here, okay?" she whispered, beckoning again. "If anything hurts, just say and I'll stop, but we need to get out of here, Josh."

He winced against her headlamp, distantly finding comfort in the idea there was a difference between him and the thing that had risen from the water. The sound of his name in her voice was what spurred him on, though, the force of nature that convinced him to try.

He grabbed the lip of the ledge with every ounce of his strength, Sam grabbed him under his arms, and together the two of them hefted him up out of the water and onto dry land.

The cold was worse, now.

How many times had he seen Sam before? More than he could count. But as he looked at her then, hair freezing to icicles as it hung in her face, the blood on her eyebrow almost black against the paleness of her skin, every inch of her shaking, trembling, shivering, quaking...it was like he was seeing her for the very first time.

"I'm sorry," he said, surprising himself just as much as her, the sandpaper rasp of his voice sounding terribly small in the dark, dank cavern they found themselves in. "F-for a-all of it, S-Sammy. I'm sorry."

Under the glare of her headlamp, he saw her eyes soften. He saw some part of her thaw. Come back.

"I know, Josh," she whispered, and when he wrapped his arms around her, his sleeves heavy and beginning to freeze, she didn't push him away. "I know."

[randomthingsicameupwith]

yandere kenny mccormick x reader

till death do us part (part 2) (sorry if my english is bad :( and that i didnt put in kennys pov)

DISCLAIMER: YANDERES AND STALKERS ARE BAD AND I DO NOT CONDONE THEM IRL!! SMUT BTW

The bell rang, never in your life were you so grateful class started. Realizing the whole entire time during lunch 99% of it was ignoring Kenny and the other 1% was that love letter.

You couldn't help but feel drained and frustrated with the situation, wishing for some sort of escape. You wondered if Kenny could sense your reluctance in hanging out with him or if he was just blinded by his own excitement. Either way, it left you feeling conflicted and even more unsettled than before. As the students began to file back into their classrooms, you found yourself lost in thought. The more you thought about it, Mark and Kenny seem extremely against each other. 

Either it was Kenny pissed off at Mark because you keep hanging out with him or Mark being suspicious of Kenny for some reason. The weight of their presence seemed to loom over you constantly, causing anxiety and discomfort that you couldn't shake off easily.

Deep down, you knew that there were underlying issues at play - issues that perhaps went beyond simple jealousy or insecurity. It was a complicated web of emotions that needed untangling but one thing was clear: pretending everything was okay wasn't going to cut it anymore. With a heavy heart, you made your way back to class hoping for some kind of distraction from the messiness that awaited outside its walls.

3 more periods of class. You can do this.

2 more now. 

1 more.

Then finally, school’s over.

Then finally, school’s over. exiting out of class, Kenny's already waiting for you out the door. before you even had time to process, he already ripped you out of the classroom and gripping harshly on your hand and a bit too close for comfort. As you two walk, you pull away awkwardly, trying to create more space between the two of you. Kenny notices your discomfort and frowns, but neverminds it.

Reaching the school gates with no mention of Mark anywhere, you can't help but feel a twinge of guilt. You didn't tell Mark about Kenny going to your house, and that just seemed like a shitty thing to do. "Hey, can I tell Mark about this first?" you ask. As if his frown before didn't hurt enough, Kenny's expression turns into a scowl. "Alright, jus- just don't take too long." He finally lets go of his grip. You nod, feeling a sense of relief and anxiety. You grab your phone off the table, immediately trying to apologise for not telling him later.

As you text Mark, your heart races with anticipation and nervousness. you turn your head around, turning to find Mark, and you finally spot him with a girl? You couldn't quite make out who she was, but your heart sank nonetheless.

It's alright. I mean, maybe it's just a friend like you and Kenny: god, is this how Mark felt? You felt so bad, and now you're having even more second thoughts about inviting Kenny home. “Fuck isn’t that Mark?” you turned to Kenny then to Mark. “Mhm.” A fit of irrational jealousy rose within you, but you tried to suppress it as hard as you could. "Damn. You know he's hanging out with the girl who basically fucked half of the football team right?" he said. Your eyes widened in shock, you turned to Kenny, eyes still widened in shock, disgusted by his words. "What? That's not true, do-don't say things like that," you responded sharply, feeling defensive of Mark and the girl he was with. Kenny shrugs it off, but you can't shake off the feeling of unease as you continue walking towards your house.

You couldn't understand why he would say something like that, that just made you stressed out even more! you brush it off, he probably didn't mean to make you feel that way.

The way home was just like lunch. Except for the love letter flooding your thoughts, it's that girl. As you arrive at your front door, feeling relieved that at least one mess was sorted especially considering how Mark just told you everything was fine between them despite what may have been, you turn around only to find Kenny standing way too close again - something he seems to do often without noticing or caring about personal space boundaries.

You try not to flinch away from him as he leans forward and whispers into your ear, smiling "I'm glad we got some alone time today." Your heart races faster now than ever before - part confusement, part fear. "too close." you push him away. He rolls his eyes, still having that smile on his face, just a little less noticeable.

The unease inside you grows as you walk silently beside Kenny, trying to push away the negative thoughts creeping into your mind. Eventually, you arrive at your house and invite Kenny in. As soon as he steps inside, your mother immediately greets him, ignoring your siblings in a heartbeat. "Awh hi hun, didn't know you'd be here! '' she says sweetly, making you cringe internally. "You want me to whip up a snack for you? I'll be as quick as I can!" you can hear your siblings muttering about needing help but your mom shushing them. "Thank you Mrs.l/n, but I'm fine," he said politely. "Alright! Call me when you need anything. Also, me and my little munchkins are gonna leave at 5 to go to Aunt Linda’s house. We won’t go home till tomorrow alright so be careful!" your mother said joyfully.

you and Kenny finally went upstairs. "Look see, I told you your mom likes me more than your siblings," he said smugly. "yep." you said, you were too tired to argue with him. As you hang out together in your room, listening to music and chatting about nothing in particular, something feels off.

Maybe it's because of what happened earlier or maybe it's because of how close Kenny seems to be getting physically; either way, something isn't right. Kenny's words only make things worse; his casually misogynistic comments about the very same girl that you're trying to forget about leave a sour taste in your mouth. 

God you needed sleep. You forgot about your phone for a while. Your body is just unable to process anything at the moment. You grab your phone and check your notifications. Awe Mark. Mark. Shit Mark. You immediately open your phone in a panic, quickly checking Mark’s messages he sent you. 

“Alright 👍”

“Accidentally sent something to u mb”

Well that was a relief. Kinda. At least he isn’t mad. Is it bad you expected more than that? You leave a sigh of relief, finally feeling calm after what felt like years of suffering and misery. “Did you figure out who wrote it?” Kenny said suddenly, “Wrote what?” you replied. “The love letter?” At that moment you wanted to punch Kenny in the face. The feeling of peace finally came to you and it was ripped out of you. “Nope.” you said monotony, “Oh okay.” he replied back with the same tone. A few minutes of silence pass, until Kenny lets out a shocked gasp. You turn to him, he turns his phone towards you and you can’t believe your eyes.

A picture of Mark making out with that very girl. Your eyes swell up with tears. You feel your heart drop as you stare at the image on Kenny's phone. The lump in your throat makes it hard to breathe, and a wave of nausea washes over you. You can't believe what you're seeing; it feels like a betrayal, not just from Mark but from yourself for ever thinking that he might actually care about you.

As the tears spill down your cheeks, Kenny tries to offer some words of sympathy, but they fall flat. His presence only seems to magnify the pain and confusion swirling inside of you. Was any of it real? Did Mark ever have feelings for you or was he just using you as a distraction until he could be with this other girl? All these questions and more are racing through your mind as Kenny continues to babble on beside you. 

He seems almost unaware of the weight of his own words or how much they hurt. It's like he doesn't even get why this is such a big deal to you. In that moment, all the sleepiness has left your body entirely- replaced instead by an overwhelming mix of emotions: sadness, anger, disappointment...it's too much to bear all at once. Kenny sits next to you, a bit too close again but you weren't gonna say anything. You can't handle anything right now.

"Dump him already." Kenny said, those words echo in your head. He places his hand on your thigh, okay this is a bit too far. you push his hand away, he puts it back. "Kenny stop, just stop. My boyfriend's literally cheating on me, I don't want you to be treating me like the sluts you hangout with every night." your words startle him, he retracts his hand back as if he just touched something extremely hot. but he retracts his hand back, but harder onto your wrists. You try to pull away, but his grip only tightens. "Ken, let go." you sob between your words. "You deserve better then him, you know that right?" he says softly. you try and let go of his grip but he grips it even more tightly. He yanks your hand, moving you closer to him. before you had any time to process anything, he kisses you. 

As the kiss lingers on and his hand moves up to your shoulders and around your neck, he pulls away and looks at you, his eyes filled with emotion. "What the fuck Kenny!" you yell, trying to push him away with all your strength but you can't. You try to scream, hoping your family would hear you then remember they already left. "You deserve me." his hands push yours above your head, you watch knowing you can't do anything. he straddles you, his face inches away from yours. you feel trapped and scared, as he kisses you again and again. in between kisses, he would mutter something about wanting you, about how Mark is a dick who should kill himself. 

Tears roll down your eyes, "I've always wanted you." he mutters. "I could've had you. i did everything for you" you feel sick to your stomach, realizing that he's been harboring these feelings for you all along. he kisses you again, drunken with lust and love, "Mark just had to ruin everything, but now i can finally have you." you sob, why is this happening to you? "why are you doing this?!" you muster up. he smiles, the same smile that would always make your day. not anymore. "Cause I love you, and i know, i know! you love me too. deep down." You shake your head, tears streaming down your face. wanting to just go back in time, to before any of this happened. "I'll tell everyone about this! everyone!" you say, hoping this will scare him somehow. but instead, kenny just giggles, "sure sweetheart." saying sarcastically. You feel helpless, trapped under his weight and his hold on you. As you lay there, listening to Kenny's words, a knot forms in your stomach. You feel as though the walls are closing in on you.  

"Take your clothes off," he said. You sit there dumbfounded, and he finally lets your hands go. You swear there are bruises on there from how hard he held them. You slap him in anger; Kenny winces in pain, "Ouch." You look in fear at what he was going to do next. "I’ll just take them off for you." He rips your shirt off, revealing your bra. You sob even more. Your breathing gets crazy; you're hyperventilating like never before. He caresses your face, saying, "Shh, shh, it’s alright, darling. Deep breaths." He smiles. Is he really comforting me when he’s trying to violate me? Weirdly, you listen to him. Trying to calm yourself down “Okay, now I'm going to take those off. Stay still, please." He unclips your bra, and they fall right off your shoulders. Your senses were overpowered by a panic reaction. You frantically mustered your power and pushed against his chest, pushing him just slightly. He grabbed your hands again with one hand, but instead of pinning them above your hand, he put them on your lap, removing your bra.

“God they look perfect.” you felt his length tighten against you, he gaped in admiration, astounded by your gorgeous figure. He pulls out something from the pocket of his orange parka, a gun..? “Don’t fight back please.”’ he warns, before letting your hands go. You sit there in fear, he puts it back in his pocket. His fingers massaged your breasts, grabbing both of your nipples and forcing you to bite your lower lip. He held one breast in his palm, gently squeezing it, while his other hand brushed your hair away from your face. Your hands squeeze against your bed. "S-stop!" You shouted out, but it sounded out as a moan. You hated it, but your hips began to press on Kenny's hard cock. As he teased your clothed nipples again, the tears streamed down your cheeks. You tried so hard to keep your moans to yourself, but all it did was force Kenny try harder to take in your wonderful moans of ecstasy. “Don’t look at mm-” 

He moved in to kiss your breasts, his tongue running over your boobs before working its way to your nipple, giving it a delicate sucking. "K-Kenny-!" You moaned out, and Kenny smirked as your moans became louder. He sucked your firm nipples as his other hand gripped your other boob, his thumb flicking painfully slowly across your nipple. You moved your head away from him as he leaned down to kiss your lips, but he gripped your cheek and pushed you to look into his ocean eyes. His lips touched yours, gently kissing you. 

Your pussy began to pulse, and you felt more cum build up. Your body craved more of him. His thumb caressed your clothed clit, and Kenny could only hear your moans as you fought against it. It felt wonderful having your most pussy tormented in this way, but you craved more.

When he saw your swollen, moist pussy, he pulled down your pants then your underwear, licked his lips. His fingers stroked you, eventually slipping in and gliding beyond your G-spot, causing you to moan. He aimlessly stroked over that area with the friction driving you insane. You were getting close that you clenched around his warm fingertips inside of you.

"I know you're getting close. It's all right, you can cum." As you slipped into a profound orgasm, more of your liquid spilled onto Kenny's fingers, a wave of ecstasy rushed over you. The wave died down  after the tremendous orgasm, and you breathed, returning to reality. You were disgusted that your body had allowed you to succumb to the pleasure.

You take a deep breath and try to compose yourself. He sits beside you, hugging you. Caressing your face gently, “I love you, so so much.” he mutters, “I hate you.“ you reply. He only hums in return, as you think your tears are coming to an end, you cry even more. He tries to comfort you, but that won’t undo what he did to you. In that moment, all you can think about is how much trust has been broken and how deep the hurt runs. "I'm gonna get a tissue, okay? don't even fucking think of running away." as he left the room, you cried like you never did before. tears pouring out like crazy.

You feel like you're drowning in a sea of emotions, unable to process everything that's happening. Your mind is racing, trying to make sense of it all but nothing seems to add up. The pain feels so real; it's like a physical ache in your chest that won't go away no matter how hard you try. You start to question everything that led you here, why did you even invite Kenny in the first place? 

He comes back with the tissues, he cleans up the mess you made comforting you as he cleans it up. “You wrote the love letter?” you ask, sniffling in between your words. “Mhm.” he replies. You shake your head in disbelief. As his words sink in, your mind goes back to that day when you received the letter. You remember the feeling of being noticed when you read it. Even though the whole time you were anxious it was a prank; it was like a dream come true, finally someone who saw something special in you that wasn't just Mark or Kenny.

As Kenny continues to hold you close, his embrace feels suffocating instead of comforting. Your mind is still trying to make sense of everything but it's too much at once; too many emotions fighting against each other for control inside your head. Eventually, tiredness takes over and your eyes start drooping again but this time not because of fatigue alone. It's also because of the mental exhaustion brought on by these endless thoughts and emotions running rampant through your brain. As sleep begins to overtake you once more, one thing becomes clear - Things will never be the same between you and Kenny again no matter how hard either one tries to fix it. You're hoping that when you wake up this is all a dream.

[staticl0ve]

For the writer's commentary! I loved this moment between roommates 😊

-

Sixty stood before you, smiling softly as he placed one arm around your waist and the other, cradling your head so you had to rest your face onto his chest. He hummed quietly to the song, his chest rumbling in waves.

His embrace was familiar to you. Friends hugged and that was what you two were. Friends. Hugging. You weren’t at all shocked by the warmth, or his clothes that always had a silken quality to it…or the firm and strong chest that flexed as he moved. His cologne smelled good though, like a rose garden. Somehow it didn’t soften his rather masculine image, but rather added to it. Sixty was a confident man, one who was rather secure in who and what he was, who he liked and boy did he like.  After all, you were roommates. On plenty of occasions, you had awkwardly greeted his one night stands before they dashed away.

Your footsteps were matched to his as he swayed you both slowly to the music. One, two, three, four. A half turn, then another. A weight, literally, was added to your head. You weren’t sure if it was his chin, or nose but you were damn certain it couldn’t have been his lips.

“Talk to me,” he said.

You buried your face into his chest. “About what?”

His hand slipped from your back and up to stroke the space between your shoulder blades. “Whatever you want.”

“Why don’t you ever go on dates?”

“Hmm,” was the sound he gave in place of an answer.

When he met you long after he settled into deviancy, you both got along like a house on fire. Between your infectious laughter and your wicked desire to throw his jokes back at him. Sixty was hooked. And let’s be honest, he was again, a simple machine with two perfectly functioning eyes. You were intelligent, thoughtful, and the finishing note to his ideal trifecta was your unique brand of beauty.

You scanned his features, the small dent on his forehead drawing your focus. The mysterious dent with a story of its own.

It was year one of your friendship. Behind him was the backdrop of a crystal clear lake and you beside him, sweating buckets from a long, intense hike. As you cooled off in the lake with your legs in the water, Sixty spoke about his history and the atrocities he almost committed to his own kind. You listened, nodding and commenting when appropriate. The wake up call he needed was a bullet grazing his head and the rest as they say, was ancient history.

Oh my gosh. You angel. 🩵 Thank you for this ask! I can’t wait to spam you with mine.

-

Thinking back on what was happening/what I wanted out of that one shot… the story starts with the cheesy lame romcoms on a tv screen. What does it mean to feel romantic emotions and what it means when one feels them differently than the other.

He gets her flowers but it’s not in the same, wooing manner because he’s kept his name off of the gift. He just knows she needed to hear that she’s worthy of love and by keeping the gift sender a mystery, he’s also unsure if he’s the one that can provide that type of love.

Sixty in this story loves to use physical touch to express himself. At this point in their friendship, they’re close enough that hugging for comfort has a very platonic feel to it. But I also wanted to draw some attention to how he’s subconsciously doing more like dipping his head to her face and considering/fighting the urge to press a kiss to her head. Things he may feel are too intimate of a gesture that may give him away.

It’s odd to him, that in this moment, he doesn’t want to make their dynamic complicated because, why do that when everything is working?

Sixty’s not a romantic kinda guy, but he feels all the ugly feelings of jealousy and possessiveness. I find it’s a fun fanon idea to explore with him what it means if one doesn’t necessarily feel cheesy love story emotions (like some may write of Connor’s experience) and how for Sixty, just having that interpersonal connection: a friend to laugh with, one he’s sexually attracted to, one he cares about, maybe that’s what romance and love means.

[cafedanslanuit]

♡   —   tags/warnings: afab!reader, breakup sex, oral sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), a lot of tears— both sexy and sad, timeskip ofc

♡   —   a/n: my first long piece for tokyo revengers! and ofc my beloved draken had to be the first one <3

♡   —  masterlist

He shouldn’t have come.

That’s the first thing that comes to Draken’s mind when you pull away from his lips to take off your shirt. He’s already half-hard and his pants only get tighter at the sight of your bra right in front of him.

Less than ten minutes ago, he had been sitting on the same couch where he was lying now. Only you weren’t grinding your hips as you were now― your lower lip was trembling as you handed him one of his old sweaters you always used to wear.

He could have chosen to have this conversation any other place. You would have said yes to meeting at a café or strolling down the street. Yet he was the one that asked if he could come over and you were the one that agreed.

Your lips slid against his again, the kiss you shared rough, demanding, but mostly, needy. His skin burnt for you just as the first time he had you and he couldn’t help but bite your bottom lip, making a soft moan leave your lips. With his back on the couch and your hands slipping under his shirt, he could barely remember the reason he came to your place was to finally put an end to your tumultuous relationship.

Well, that and because he couldn’t bear not seeing you any longer.

You had seen this day coming long ago. You woke up one morning to the news of an assault on Draken’s motorcycle shop. No matter how many times you asked him, he never gave you any explanations, even if you were sure he was well aware of what had happened. Every time he got a call from his friends he would leave the room and talk in hushed whispers and he started coming up with more and more excuses to avoid spending time with you.

His gentle nature around you had turned harsh and cold with you ever since that day. Draken had remained silent when you asked him about his change of behaviour, and during one heated night where you had ended up yelling, asking if it was something you had done, he finally spoke, only to assure you you hadn’t done anything wrong.

In your search for answers, you reached out to his friends. But rather than that, what you found was even more questions than before. All of them got visibly uncomfortable when you approached them and it didn’t take much to understand they also knew what was happening but refused to talk about it. The only one who gave you a little more information was Chifuyu, during a late-night talk after his store had closed.

“Talk to him,” he advised, ordering the files from the day and avoiding your eyes.

“I tried, he won’t tell me what happened,” you sighed, resting your chin on your hand as you watched him work. “But this wasn’t a random attack, right? It was something personal. If it was random, then someone would have said so. But everyone just shut ups and gives me a pitying look.”

Chifuyu raises his eyes at you.

“Yeah, exactly that look”, you say, passing a hand through your hair.

“It’s… complicated,” he finally said, putting the files aside. “And not my place to talk to you about it. All I’m saying is everything Draken does is to protect you.”

“Yeah?” you huffed, a dry laugh leaving your lips. “Treating someone badly and pushing them away is a way to protect them?”

Chifuyu gave you a sad smile. “Sometimes it can be.”

Even if you knew Chifuyu did his best to keep loyal to his friend while also trying to dissipate your worries, it hadn’t worked. You were sure any day from now Draken would break it off with you. And when you got a call from him asking to come over after almost a week of not seeing you, you understood the time had come.

The next time Draken came to his senses, he had his face buried between your legs. His nose brushed against your clit as his tongue was buried deep within you. The whimpers you were making were music to his ears. He swore he could recognize his name in between your cries a couple of times, but tried not to think much about it. He didn’t want to come to terms with the fact it may be the last time you would call for him like this.

Your legs closed against the sides of his head as you threw your head back in pleasure. Draken put one hand on your inner thigh and forced your legs open, eliciting a sweet gasp from you. He pulled away, the sight of your soaked pussy making his head spin. Fuck, was this really going to be the last time he got to have you like this? Draken slid two fingers across your folds, gathering wetness and then using it to circle your clit gently. He felt your leg twitching under his big hand.

If this was going to be the last time, then he was going to give you something to remember him by.

Draken bent down again and started pressing open-mouthed kisses on your folds. A soft hum escaped your lips as he worked his way around your pussy, making sure there wasn’t a part of it that wasn’t covered by his eager lips. He purposely left your clit for last, his hot breath hovering over it. Those few seconds were enough for you to lift your head, looking down at the man you had just agreed to let go.

His dark eyes met yours, widening just the slightest bit as if he had been caught. He held your gaze for a couple of seconds before taking a long lick, from your entrance to your clit, where he sucked gently, your juices mixing with his saliva.

“You taste so good,” he muttered against your core, slurping like a starved man. His words sent a shock of pleasure between your thighs, making them close against Draken’s head. However, his hands were stronger and they kept you in your place, watching you helplessly wriggle underneath him.

“I love you,” you panted, your thoughts getting cloudy. As a reply, Draken pulled his face away and inserted two of his fingers inside you. Your walls clenched around them, a broken moan stuck on your throat.

The many years he had had you weren’t in vain, as he curved his digits just the right amount and hit that special spot in just a few tries. You threw your head back, hips rising and breath hitching, losing more and more control of your body with every thrust of his fingers. He bent down once more and let his tongue play freely with your clit, his lips circling and sucking just when you needed him to and the tip of his tongue making you see stars.

“Ken— fuck, fuck—,” you whimpered. You put a hand over the one that was holding your thigh open and squeezed it. “Stop, please— I can’t— I don’t— stop. ”

Immediately, Draken pulled away, his concerned face glistening with your arousal. He crawled up until his face was hovering over yours.

“Shit, sorry. You okay? What happened?” he asked in a whisper, inspecting your face as he tried to find a clue of your discomfort. You placed your hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look back into your eyes.

“No, it’s okay, I’m okay,” you reassured him, noticing his eyebrows relaxing a bit at your words. “I just— I don’t want to come— I mean, I do, I want— but with you inside. Please, I need you—”

Draken crashed his lips against yours, and you swallowed his moan when you shuffled your legs so he was resting between them, his bulge pressing against you. His shirt was already long forgotten on the floor and now he was fumbling with his pants as he rocked his hips against yours, the kiss getting more and more desperate with every second.

Once his pants joined his shirt, he fished his wallet from one of his pockets and took out a condom. Your chest rose up and down as you watched him put him on, a small warning inside your mind that this was the last time. Emotions were pouring out without you being able to control it, a knot forming on your throat and your heart clenching in pain. Draken hovered over you again and rested his forehead against your shoulder. his breath making you shiver as he slowly started pushing himself inside.

He left small kisses alongside your neck, trying to ease the pain of the stretch that he knew you were experiencing. In all the time you’d been together, he always managed to make your breath hitch every time he slid inside you. You clutched onto his broad shoulders, one of your hands removing his hairband and undoing his braid, letting his long, blonde hair flow free. You repeated his name like a prayer as you rocked your hips, trying to get used to his size.

You ran your fingers up his spine and threaded them with his hair, closing your fist around it around the base of his neck. Draken took it as a sign to start thrusting against you, making more moans leave your mouth and your hand pull his hair a little tighter. Both your legs circled his waist and you locked your ankles with each other, creating a new angle that made tears form in the corner of your eyes. It was too intense and even if your feelings always poured whenever you two were intimate, you could feel as if every fibre of your body was holding onto him, innocently hoping he wouldn’t leave after you were done.

Draken grunted against your neck, his hips picking up the pace and finding the spot his fingers were brushing against just moments ago. You cried out and tightened your legs around his waist, feeling him so deep that you thought you would be reaching your high quick enough. At this, you put your hand on his right shoulder, pushing him away. He turned his head, his nose brushing against your cheek and his hips slowing down.

“Hey,” he said, just a little out of breath. “Talk to me. What do you need?”

You grabbed both sides of his face, bringing him closer to you. The small resistance you felt as first disappeared as he let you manoeuvre him how you wanted. When his dark eyes were hovering over yours, his hips had already stopped, his eyebrow slightly raised as he looked down at you.

“If this— If this is the last time, I want to see you,” you said, your thumbs caressing his cheeks. His eyes widened at your words and you could feel him tense up. However, a moment later, he nodded and pressed a kiss against your lips as his hips resumed their movements.

For the first time, you were able to see Draken’s small expressions as he fucked you. How his lips were parted as he breathed through his mouth and how his eyes were darker than ever, fixed on your eyes. You had never noticed how his nose turned the loveliest shade of pink when he was fucking you so good. Your heart swole and once again you felt too much at the same time. You loved him, you loved him so much. Why couldn’t you make it work?

Draken took your legs and put them over his shoulders, the new position making you whimper. Soft pleas filled the living room and he rutted into you, each of his thrusts getting you closer and closer plus making your brain foggy. There was only Draken, only him, only your boyfriend Ken who was so wonderful and who had made you fall head over heels for him from the moment you had met him.

Your hands were still on each side of his face, your breath colliding against his as you whimpered. Draken started grunting, his hips snapping faster and harder against your core, setting all your body on fire. It was too much— every inch of you was yearning for the man on top of you, not feeling him close enough even if he was buried deep inside of you. Your hands lowered to his shoulders, nails digging on his pale skin. You wanted him, there wasn’t anything else in the world you wanted as bad as him and you knew as soon as this was over, the more and more pleasure you got from him, then the sooner he’d walk out the door.

Tears started prickling on the edge of your eyes and it wasn’t long until one of them rolled down your cheeks, your moans mixing with small sobs. Draken grabbed your jaw with his big palm, forcing him to lock your eyes with his just as you had before. You saw him moving his lips as if preparing himself to say something, but no words came out of his lips. You noticed concern in his features, yet he seemed distressed as he tried to find the right words.

“I love you,” you panted, feeling another tear fall from your cheek.

And that was when Draken knew.

He knew he had to leave you.

Nodding, he pressed his lips against yours. “I love you too,” he muttered, before picking up his pace.

After that, it wasn’t long before you were reaching your orgasms, clenching around your boyfriend and bringing him to the edge as well. He didn’t let go of the hold on your chin as you both climaxed, eyes locked on each other as you crumbled apart and breaths colliding between parted lips.

It took a moment for both of you to catch your breath. As your body started relaxing under Draken’s weight once more, the reminder of your previous conversation where he was putting an end to your relationship came back. You felt a know forming in your throat and by the sad look on Draken’s dark eyes, it was clear he was thinking of the same thing.

He pressed his lips against yours once more, but this time it was softer, gentler, as if it was the first time he was kissing you at all. It didn’t last more than five seconds but it was enough for your eyes to fill with tears again. Draken pulled himself away from you and turned his body as he started putting his clothes back on.

You saw him stretching to pick up the old sweater that you had returned to him a moment ago and picked it up before he could reach it. You put it over your body, covering yourself, but it wasn’t enough to make him look at you.

“Please, stay,” you mumbled. You noticed your lover’s arm tensing at your words, but he still started walking towards your door. “Ken.”

The way you whispered his name made his heart clench, his step faltering for a moment. He stood in front of the door, looking at the handle and gathering all the strength he had left.

“Just for tonight,” you insisted. “You can leave in the morning if you want, just… I want―”

“You know what happens if I stay,” he interrupted you. “If I stay, I’ll never leave again.”

“Would that be so bad?”

Draken finally turned around. You looked so small, covering yourself with his old sweater and a part of him was glad he was leaving something behind. The idea of you remembering him even a few years as you find the sweater on the back of one of your drawers brought peace to his heart. He just hoped this goodbye wouldn’t taint the memories you had created together the last couple of years.

“…I’m not losing you,” he sentenced under your confused gaze.

“Ken—”

Cutting our sentence short, Draken finally opened the door and left your apartment. In the silence that filled your living room, you could only listen to his muffled steps as he walked down the hallway.

You couldn’t understand why he was leaving.

But you knew you were never going to see him again.

[favefandomimagines]

Give Me A Reason to Stay (b.b.)

Summary: the battle is over, you can finally breathe. but will bucky give you a reason to stay with him in Louisiana? 

AN: inspired by the finale of tfaws! so potential spoilers and obvs i’m gonna include some angst (stark!reader)

You finally caught a moment to breathe after what felt like years of fighting. After so long of going from one disaster to the next, you could finally stop and pause. Actually enjoy life for once. 

Since your father died, you never stopped moving. Being CFO of Stark Industries, helping Wanda escape the authorities after her grief induced episode and then Sam and Bucky called you for help. It never seemed to stop. 

But, after Karli died and the rest of the Flag Smashers gone, you could take your well deserved pause. At least for a little while before your inherited work called. 

Sam invited you to come to his home town in Louisiana for a celebration of sorts and you couldn’t say no. Him telling you that Bucky was going to be there was also a selling point. 

You and Bucky had a complicated history. You helped Sam and Steve stop him and HYDRA and then went on the manhunt for him. Even after finding out he killed your grandparents, you were still there. You understood that it wasn’t Bucky’s mind, just his body. You were there in Wakanda and helped set him free from his trigger words. 

But nothing ever progressed from the stolen looks, the longing glances and the quick touches. The amount of times Bucky Barnes saved your life and threatened others who tried to hurt you, you thought he felt something for you. But the nagging feeling in the back of your head told you that you were wrong. 

At the celebration, the many neighborhood kids were gathered around you as you created stars in your hands, almost like your own personal galaxy. The kids thought it was magic and you rather liked that perspective on your powers. 

Bucky and Sam were talking with Sarah and some other neighbors but Bucky couldn’t focus on the conversation when he was too busy watching you. 

Your smile was so wide that he thought it could light up a city block. You looked genuinely happy, a look he hadn’t seen on you in a long time. It was refreshing and your happiness made him happy. 

“You’re being creepy.” Sam commented, nudging the super soldier. “What?” Bucky asked. “You’re staring.” Sam said. “I-I was not staring.” He stammered. “You so were. Just tell her how you feel already. I can assure you she feels the same way.” Sam told him. “I can’t just tell her.” Bucky rebutted. “Yes, yes you can. What are you afraid of?” Sam asked.

The 106 year-old man paused for a moment as he continued to stare at you. “I can’t be the one that causes her more pain.” He said. Sam furrowed his eyebrows at Bucky’s answer. “She’s been through too much already. Losing Natasha, watching her father die, the nightmares she has. I’m not back to myself yet and I can’t cause her anymore pain.” Bucky explained. 

The conversation was cut short when you approached the two men. “I’m so sorry, Sam. Pepper just called and said the donors are pulling out of the eco-friendly power source project we’re working on. She needs my help fixing it.” You told them. 

“Do you really have to go?” Sam asked. “Unfortunately. Pepper says she can do it on her own, she did it before I was old enough but since my name is still attached to the company, I have to go. Board meeting at 9 tomorrow.” You explained. “I’ll go grab Sarah, she’s going to insist on giving you leftovers to take.” Sam said, giving you a nice smile. 

You turned to Bucky who was very quiet since you walked over. “So, you’re really going back?” He asked you. “Yeah. Unless you give me a reason to stay.” You answered honestly. And rather boldly.

Bucky wanted to say something so bad. He wanted to tell you that he loved you and wanted you to stay with him there but the words didn’t come out. And if he was already feeling bad before, the look on your face broke his heart. 

You gave him a tight lipped smile, a small head nod before you walked away from him. He watched as you slapped a fake smile on, say goodbye to Sarah and Sam before leaving the party rather quickly. 

“What the happened with Y/N?” Sarah asked approaching Bucky. “Nothing. She just had to go.” Bucky lied. Sam saw right through it obviously. Something had happened between you and Bucky and he was determined to find out and play cupid. 

“What really happened?” Sam asked. “She asked me to give her a reason to stay. And I didn’t say anything.” Bucky answered. “Come on, man. You love her, she loves you. Y/N wouldn’t give you the time of day if she couldn’t handle your baggage. You need each other more than you want to admit, Buck.” Sam said.

Bucky sighed and cursed himself for letting you go. “Okay, what do I do?” He asked. “Go to New York. Pull a rom-com move and crash that board meeting and tell her that you love her.” Sam answered.

And Bucky did just that. He got on the first flight to New York and came up with a whole speech in his head for what he was going to say to you.

He made it at the nick of time and was surprised he still had security clearance to the building. When he arrived to the correct floor, he saw Pepper standing in the hallway.

“Bucky, I didn’t expect to see you here.” She said to him. “Where’s Y/N? I need to talk to her.” Bucky said. “She’s in the conference room, preparing for the meeting.” Pepper answered.

Bucky practically ran to the conference room and almost broke down the door.

“B-Bucky?” You questioned. “I love you, Y/N. You asked me to give you a reason to stay and I was scared. Scared that I’d cause you more pain and you don’t deserve that after what you’ve been through. But I can’t deny that I love you anymore.” Bucky confessed.

You were at a loss for words, not really expecting a love confession from Bucky Barnes. “You love me?” You questioned quietly. “Yes. I love you.” He said. “Come back to Louisiana with me. We can start over, have the life we both deserve. Or, I can come back here and you can still help Pepper run Stark Industries. I don’t care as long as I get a chance at a life with you.” Bucky added.

“You really mean that?” You asked. “I really do mean that.” He answered. He watched you intently as you processed everything Bucky had just told you.

You looked down at your presentation notes before you picked them up and folded the papers in half. “Friday, can you bring Pepper into the conference room please?” You asked the AI. “Of course, Ms. Stark.” It said.

You and Bucky waited in a tension filled silence when the door opened. “What’s going on?” Pepper asked. “I think it’s time I sign those papers.” You told her.

Pepper smiled widely at you, happy that you were choosing yourself over the company for once. “It’s about time.” She commented. “I’ll go get them drawn up.” She added before leaving the room.

“Wait what papers?” Bucky asked. “I’m giving every aspect of the company to Pepper. I’ll no longer be listed as an executive for Stark Industries. Which means, I can go anywhere I want for as long as I want.” You explained.

“You mean-“ Bucky started. “I’m going to Louisiana with you. For however long you’ll have me.” You interjected. Bucky laughed lightly as he made his way over to you, cupped your face in his hands and kissed you deeply.

It was a feeling you both had been waiting for and it was one that was definitely worth the wait. You had been putting off your personal life out of fear it wouldn’t work but now you just wanted to be with each other. No matter what happens down the line.

“And if it wasn’t obvious, I love you too.” You said once you parted. “I’d hope so, doll.” Bucky replied.

—

You and Bucky approached the large gathering of people with food in your hands, saying your hellos and giving out hugs and handshakes.

“There you two are! I was wondering if you’d ever show!” Sam scolded you two. “What do you expect? We’re newlyweds.” You laughed. “And it’s about damn time it happened too.” Sarah commented.

You sat down at the picnic table, Bucky resting his flesh hand on your thigh. You stared down at the ring on your finger quite fondly and thought of your dad. Hoping he’d be proud of letting the company go three years ago and living your life to its fullest.

“Aunt Y/N! Can we see the stars again?” Cass asked with all of his friends behind him. “Can’t say no to a future leading astronomer now can I?” You teased the boy. You got up from the table and stood a few feet away, creating the stars with your hands like you had years prior.

Again, Bucky watched you fondly but this time he wasn’t pining after you, hoping he’d build the courage to tell you how he felt. He was watching you as his wife and as his future.

“You really do love her, don’t you?” Sam asked. “Yeah. I really do.” Bucky answered, a smile adorning his face. “You’re going to be amazing parents.” Sarah added. “Parents?” Bucky questioned. “Oh no she hasn’t told you yet.” Sarah said, standing up from the table.

“Is Y/N,” Bucky started. “Am I what?” You asked. Bucky turned to you and rose from his seat so he could stand eye to eye with you. “Are you pregnant?” He asked.

You looked behind him and glared at Sarah before staring back at Bucky. “Yeah, yeah I am. You’re gonna be dad James Bucky Barnes.” You told him with a watery smile.

Just the thought of bringing a child into the world with Bucky made you more emotional than you thought possible.

“I’m gonna be a dad?” Bucky questioned. You nodded your head and Bucky scooped you up in his arms and if felt like everything was falling into place.

After 109 years of not having an ounce of peace or feeling as if he was a monster and a burden, he was getting the life he had always dreamed of. And he got to do it all with you.

[quillquiver]

“Tell me something.”

Cas frowns against Dean’s left pec, eyes looking up at him from where he’s laying his head on Dean’s chest. He feels a hand card through his hair and rub at the base of his skull. He hums into the contact like a cat, closing his eyes in contentment as he feels Dean’s unabashed stare. He rolls off of his chest so they’re nose-to-nose, fingers brushing in the space between them as they lay on their sides.

“About what?” Cas asks.

“Anything,” Dean answers. “Before. When you were an angel.”

An angel. Cas feels his heart seize and his wingless back ache, but forces a playful smile to his lips. “You want to hear about dinosaurs and meteors and great cataclysms,” he teases. “I suppose… the beginning was violent, like breaking a bone again and again until it sets right—”

“No,” Dean cuts him off, fingertips pressed to his mouth. Cas looks at him curiously. “I mean, that’s cool—the beginning,” he says. “And I want to hear about all of that another time, but… you. I—I wanna know about you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Like…” Dean’s fingers move to play with Cas’s own, his cheeks ruddy and red. “Where did you go? What did you see?” He bites his lip, brow furrowed as he forces his gaze up. Cas meets his eyes earnestly. “You pulled me from hell, man, but… I don’t know anything about you before that.”

“And you want to?”

“Well, yeah.” Dean rolls his eyes. “I—wanna know everything.”

His cheeks are so red they’ve droned out his freckles, and Cas can’t stop himself from reaching to run his knuckles over the flushed skin. “I don’t remember a lot of it,” he murmurs. “Some of that is Naomi, I’m sure, but—some is also just being human, I think. I’ve been writing it all down, so I don’t forget.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m older than most types of dirt,” Cas says. “It’s a lot to remember.” He pauses, tracing the line of Dean’s clavicle. “I… wasn’t lying when I said you changed me. And everything that came before, all of it, walking along the primordial beach, pushing mountains from the ground, spending time with all things that swam in the sea and walked upon the earth—it’s like they’re half-memories; empty, but given meaning now that I know to appreciate them. That I know how to put feelings to them.” 

Cas frowns. “Angelic love is—agape. Steadfast. Absolute. Unconditional. But it doesn’t make any allowance for emotion beyond blind devotion. I didn’t love the sunrise because there was nothing to love; that the sun rises is an incontrovertible fact of the universe. The pinks and oranges on the horizon are the result of refracted light, of which I could see all colours named and unnamed. The sun existed, and it rose, and in it was my father, and that was good.”

Cas looks down at his hands. “I think… I think I always had the potential to become—this. To get here.” He shifts, moving to idly play with the hem of the sheet. “You have to understand, Dean: King David, Solomon’s lover, Delilah, Judith, Bathsheba—they are nothing to you. Achilles wished Patroclus was so lovely of face and pure of heart. I remember thinking, strangely, that such radiance was just for the Righteous Man who will bring about Paradise. And yet for all the beauty I’d seen; gods and goddesses, kings and queens and commoners, the loveliness in every far corner of this world, that—you—were the first time I truly felt splendour. I had never seen a soul shine through a face, like that. And we had been taught obedience above all, but God had surely lied, because… because even twisted and conflicted as you were, you radiated love in all the ways I didn’t know I craved to feel. How was I supposed to pledge myself to an absent father when you were right there? When my own doubts were later echoed in your hands and the steady beat of your heart a hundredfold?

“And it was—is—complicated, and confusing, and painful but learning to feel, to disobey, to love; it has been the greatest honour and privilege of my life. And I know you don’t like… grand declarations,” Cas says quietly. He forces his eyes upwards, swallowing thickly when Dean meets them, his own wide and unflinching. “So please believe me when I say that this isn’t, to me. And I know I’ve told you all of this before, but we’re not dying, now, and you need to know how thankful I am to even just know you—”

Dean surges forward to press their mouths together, reaching over to pull Cas closer. He buries a hand in dark hair and uses the other to cup Cas’s stumbled jaw, pulling away to mutter Jesus, Cas before kissing him again. And again. And again. He pulls away and moves back when Cas chases, a crooked, goofy smile tugging at his mouth. Cas feels himself start to grin in response. “What?” he asks.

“You just—” Dean shakes his head. “You say all this epic crap about me like you didn’t change me, too.” He looks down at their joined hands, frowning as he brushes a thumb over Cas’s knuckles. “I didn’t really have any friends before you. Or not like you, at least. Hunting… you kinda gotta keep people at an arm’s length. And you—y’know, you helped me be myself. Made me brave. So, uh. Thanks. I guess.”

“You’re—welcome,” Cas says haltingly. He can’t stop staring, but he thinks maybe that’s okay. That this instance of overwhelming love and appreciation is the only one where unabashed looking is not a social faux pas. Hesitantly, he leans in. Dean meets him halfway.

They kiss for a good long while, until Dean is pressed back into the mattress and Cas is a useless, warm lump on top of him. What they’re doing can definitely be characterized as swapping spit; their every movement lazy and deep, hands wandering, bodies tangled and moving together as if in a prelude to sex despite the fact that neither of them seem particularly inclined to get there.

“Y’know, you never actually answered my question,” Dean breathes into the bolt of Cas’s jaw.

“Question?” Cas asks faintly.

“Mm. About you. When you were an angel.”

“Ah, my wings were iridescent black,” Cas murmurs humming when Dean makes his way back for a real kiss. “I have—um, had an animal head for every vessel I took.” Dean rolls them over. “The T-Rex was not a scavenger, and they had mating plumage.” Presses sucking kisses to his neck. “I was an advisor to Cleopatra. I waited for Emperor Ai as he cut his sleeve. Brachiosaurs used to sing—”

Dean abruptly pulls away. He sits up, straddling Cas’s waist with a dumbfounded expression on his face. Cas’s brow furrows. “Dean?”

“Sorry, you just—”

He moves as if to dismount and Cas tugs him back down, catching his mouth in another kiss. “I’m responsible for the Silfra Fissure in Iceland,” he continues. “Gabriel created the platypus. Moses had a stutter and was a bad public speaker; Aaron did most of the talking for him.”

“Uh—”

“The Roman Empress Elagabalus once invited, um, a gladiator to the palace because he had an exceptionally large penis, and when he couldn’t please her, she banished him. Her male lover, Hierocles, had given the gladiator something so he wouldn’t become erect.”

Dean snorts and Cas pulls away with a concerned frown. “What—?”

“Nothing,” Dean laughs, the thing caught somewhere between disbelief and joy. “Keep going.”

“Um… Copernicus had an aversion to feet?”

“Is that a question?”

“No, he did.”

Dean grins and kisses him again.

[certifiedskywalker]

Neurogenesis - Charles Xavier

It was never meant to happen. He thought it was impossible and you were both far too busy leading overly complicated lives. Where was the time?! Between the school and saving the world, where did a little family fit in? Your little family.

WARNINGS: mild cursing, scientific/clinical language, and pregnancy

Something was changed in you. Though, arguably, it would be easier to determine what remained the same after the beach in Cuba. What once were steadfast facets of Charles’ life were twisted beyond recognition like a piece of metal warped by Erik’s hand or the sudden divergence of a bullet’s path. At the thought, Charles felt his back ache. The pain pulled his attention from your figure and towards his still legs.

“And it’s finished!”

Hank, a blur of blue fur, rose up from behind one of the lab tables. Charles raised a brow at the scientist before he flicked his gaze over to you. You eyed whatever Hank had been working on while hidden behind the table before you met Charles’ gaze. His own mouth quirked upwards instinctually as you looked at him. Charles could never not smile when you looked at him like that: eyes full of love and the softest hints of a grin on your lips.

“Here you are,” Hank said as he rolled a shining, new wheelchair out from behind the table. “I should have thought about a joystick control before. Just been a bit...out of it.”

“It’s alright,” Charles replied, waving Hank’s worry away with a hand. “We’ve all been adjusting to this new normal.”

Nothing feels normal anymore. Your voice rang through Charles’ head like a sweet song despite the bitter truth of your words. 

He tilted his head towards you and met your eyes with a knowing look. It will soon, darling, I promise.

Always the optimist, you telepathically replied before you returned to the files spread out on the table before you. Charles watched you carefully, still trying to pinpoint what exactly was different. Your thoughts and voice were clear but something was...newer. Sharper.

Hank sighed, pulling Charles’ attention back to him. His thick, blue arms were held out towards him, waiting to move Charles from chair to chair. “Are you ready?”

Charles swallowed hard but nodded up at his beastial friend. “I don’t think I’ll quite ever get used to being carried around.”

“Just need to adjust to the new normal, Professor,” Hank echoed with a wry, lopsided smile. Against his newly blue skin, his teeth, especially the longer canines, looked more yellowed. But the awkward joy that Hank exuded with his signature half-smile remained a constant despite his altered appearance. 

“Yes,” Charles agreed as Hank scooped him up from his old wheelchair. 

As he was lifted, Charles caught your eyes again. You held the same love in your eyes he saw moments before but something danced along the edges. It wasn’t pity at the sight of him or his more-less limp body in Hank’s arms. No, Charles had told you in hospital that he did not want you to weep for the loss of his legs. The strain his new condition added to your relationship would be enough to bear. 

Was it worry perhaps? With your ability to block him from reading your mind, you always left him with so many questions. He joked about how, while you could speak to each other telepathically, communicating each other’s thoughts remained just as difficult as it was for average couples. Couples without powerful mutations, that was.

That did not stop Charles from trying to read you though. In fact, he enjoyed the mystery. Even as Hank placed him in his new chair and you watched with that strange, mixed expression, Charles felt a twinge of wonder. He could study you, love you, forever if the world allowed him to. He so wish that it would.

“How does it feel?” Hank asked once he stepped back to admire his work. Charles looked from you to Hank to the new chair’s joystick. Tentatively, he wrapped his fingers around the knob and pushed it forward. With a small heave, the chair moved in the direction Charles pointed it in: right towards where you stood.

You laughed as Charles rode quickly over to you. He stopped immediately in front of you and looked up with an expectant glint in his blue eyes. Your smile widened at the sight and you reached a hand to his face. When your palm pressed against his cheek, Charles turned his head to lean into your touch. His eyes closed to savor the feeling of your skin on his.

“Looks like it works great, Hank,” you mused before leaning closer to Charles. “And you look very handsome, dapper even.”

“Dapper? I was expecting a very different descriptor,” Charles jested as he opened his eyes. He grinned when he saw your eyes widen slightly and your hand moved to trail through his hair. For a moment, Charles was so immersed in you that he did not feel the mystifying newness that seemed to glow about you.

It was only you, and then, as Charles drank in your form, it suddenly wasn’t.

“You can’t say that in your heads?”

“Where’s the fun in that, Hank? We don’t get to see your face of disgust,” you teased, looking up at the scientist. 

Charles would have gladly joined in but he could not ignore the small, bright sparks that stemmed from new neurons. Each one burned in his brain but not with thoughts he could read. There were only hints of tactile feelings and very base sounds that seemed to echo in some pitch black void. Despite the darkness, Charles was not afraid. It was not a fearful dark, but warm, almost comforting in some strange way.

“Funny. Well, I have to run this upstairs to Alex,” Hank sighed, holding up a energy blast channeling disc. “Don’t break anything in my lab.”

“It’s the school’s lab,” you countered. 

“Y/N.” Charles reached his hands up to your hips, trying to grab your attention.

“It’s basically Charles’ lab,” you continued as Hank walked away. 

Charles shook his head and rested his hands on your sides. Beneath his fingers and your clothes, he could feel the warmth of your flesh that mirrored the sparks of newness he felt in his mind. Before you turned your head to look at him, your hands moved to rest on top of Charles’. When you finally focused on him, Charles felt his stomach lurch.

“Y/N…”

“What is it?”

Then Charles saw it in your furrowed brows, feeble frown, and, mostly, in your eyes: nothing. There was no recognition or masked emotion. After a few seconds of silence, your expression grew grim, more worried. Your hands held his tighter and squeezed.

“Charles?”

“You don’t know,” Charles breathed. His eyes fell from yours to your joined hands, your sides, then to your abdomen. In his mind, little flickers of light like firecrackers sparkled in the warm void that surrounded him. “I can’t believe this.”

“Charles,” you whined, “you’re scaring me. What is it? Are you alright?”

“Am I...I’m fine, Y/N, are you,” he met your gaze, “you’re pregnant.”

Your worry melted away as a laughed rumbled up from your stomach and out of your mouth. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I can see inside the embryo’s forming neurons. I can feel the neurogenesis occurring in utero, the very forming of the brain.”

“Wh...it wasn’t, it isn’t possible. Our mutations, they aren’t compatible,” you stepped back and dropped Charles’ hands. “This is impossible, right?”

You met Charles’ eyes and, at his silence, all he could see now was the panic. He did not need to read your mind to know how fast your overwhelming thoughts were racing through your head. Carefully, he reached out to again, desperate to calm you. You did not move to meet him in the middle. Instead, you braced yourself against the lab table behind you.

“Hey, hey, breathe, darling,” he cooed. “It will be alright.”

“Alright?! Charles, you can’t be serious! We can adjust to a new normal, to a life without Raven and Erik and your legs, but a baby?!” You lifted your hands to hold your face and, for the first time in his life, Charles felt utterly powerless. 

His lips fell into a frown and stinging tears began to gather behind his eyes as he took in the sight of you. Gently, he pressed the joystick of his chair forward to get closer to you. When he was close enough, Charles reached a hand up and wrapped his fingers around your forearm. With all the tenderness he had, he pulled your arm away which peeled your hand from your face. Tears rolled down your cheeks and Charles wanted nothing more to reach inside your mind to steal them away; or fully share in them. 

He wasn’t sure which would help more. All he wanted to do was help, but he did not know what to do or what to say. So, he did the first thing he thought of and pulled you towards him. Wordlessly, Charles guided you into his lap so you could sit and so he could hold you.

You melted into him so naturally. Your head fell to his shoulder and his arms wrapped around your waist instinctively. Charles pressed his face into the crown of your head, savored the feeling of your hair tickling the skin of his face. It was a comforting contrast to the wetness of your tears that soaked through his shirt to the skin of his chest. He closed his eyes and just held you.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

You lifted your head from Charles’ shoulder and let your red-rimmed eyes meet his gaze. I love you too, I love you. I’m just-

“You don’t have to explain,” Charles interjected aloud, “and I’ll support whatever you decide to do. I’ll be here for you, always. Alright?”

His hand lifted to your face and brushed against the peak of your cheek before his fingertips traced down to your neck. You nodded quietly and Charles leaned in, grazing your lips with his. After a moment’s hesitation, you reciprocated, your arms linking behind his neck to draw him in further. It was a long kiss of comfort that tasted of sweet love and salted tears.

When you parted, Charles pressed his forehead to yours and let your noses knock gently together. He did not want to pull away so completely, he did not want to leave any unnecessary distance between you. So much had changed and left your lives so quickly that Charles could not bear the thought of separating from you. Not now, not even a little bit.

So, you both sat in silence and pressed as close as possible to each other. Eventually, your breathing evened out and Charles was able to check in on the new neurons that sparkled with growth. There was no denying it was there. A small piece of you and Charles made physical. It felt surreal, beyond even his total comprehension. 

“Does that mean, in Cuba,” you began, pulling your face from Charles’. You did not have to continue for Charles to understand.

“Yes, most likely,” he replied, “but it seems fine. Healthy, alive.”

“I don’t know how to feel about that, about this.” Charles nodded and tilted his head up to press a kiss to your forehead. “First it’s the school, the X-Men, the world, and now...this.”

Against his will, Charles smiled against your forehead before he moved away to look into your eyes. “And now this.”

You gave Charles a small, hopeful smile. It was enough to make his heart swell and his chest ache with pure adoration. He leaned forward again, pressed another kiss to your lips and lingered. The soft scent of your soap and the warmth of your body against his overwhelmed his senses. Through it all, he could still sense the flickering shocks of budding cells.

He entertained the thought of normalcy, of raising a child with you. Charles would be lying if he did not admit he wanted it, wanted it as badly as he wanted to prepare the school. But he wanted you more. Forever if the world would let him. 

[thefanficmonster]

idk if u know him but i just found out that technoblade has cancer and now im really sad but it did get me a lil curious to see a small corpse x reader scenario or headcanons where reader announces they have cancer in the midst of playing with corpse and their friends on stream?

Sorry for the long wait dear but here is your request finally fulfilled. Because of my long queue I decided to go for headcanons and I hope you don't mind. If you want a full fic of this concept don't hesitate to let me know ~ XOXO, Vy 💕

Streamer gang & Reader (Gender Neutral)

TW: Mentions of suffering from cancer, Mentions of hospital visits and hospital treatment

- You had been running late for the stream you and the crew had arranged a few days prior - Because of certain problems with the system at you hospital, you had to attend your appointment that day instead of the day before, the timing clashing a bit with the timing of the stream - You sent Rae a quick text that you'd be late for the event, hoping she wouldn't ask why - And luckily she didn't - Truth be told, it's not like you were going to extreme lengths to hide your illness, you just didn't want you friends seeing you differently - Still, however, you were planning to tell them sooner or later - You always made up scenarios in your head of how it would go and only in a few were your news accepted lightly - You hated that you had to risk all those other, far less fortunate alternatives, but it was what it was and you had zero control of how they’d react so you were practically helpless in that field - That being said, you just let out a sigh every time your mind started going down that route - “Hey guys, sorry I’m late. The hospital messed up my appointment which was supposed to be YESTERDAY. So shout out to them, you guys suck. Just kidding, y’all keep me alive.” - Your friends chuckled at your comment, paying no mind to it as anything but a joke - “Time you switch hospitals then.” Toast nudges you jokingly - “Oh trust me, bro, that would be hella more complicated than just making appointments in my local one. All my paperwork, records, medical history, everything’s there. I can just about imagine how much of it would be lost if I moved.” - Corpse scoffs, amused, “Damn, you make it sound like you’re in and out of the hospital more than I am.” - You playfully roll your eyes even though he can’t see me, “Yeah, well having cancer does that to a person.” - The call goes quiet for a few moments, making you think back to what you just said, turning pale as a ghost, all you blood running cold - “Fuck-” Corpse is the first one to speak up, “That’s fucking horrible.” - “Why didn’t you tell us?” Rae follows him up, voice equally as concerned as Corpse’s, both of them clearly rattled by your confession - As is the rest of the game lobby - You fidget with your hands, your eyes stinging with sudden hot tears that are threatening to spill but you refuse to let them - The last thing you were expecting when imagining the aforementioned scenarios was crying - You thought you had come to terms with it long ago to the point where you can even joke about it but turns out you were wrong - “I-” You begin to speak but stutter because of the knot in your throat, “I didn’t want you guys to...pity me or see me any differently. I-..I wouldn’t be able to stand even you treating me like I’m fragile and overthinking everything you say in my presence.” - Your response is answered by another moment of silence before your racing mind is put to a slight ease by Corpse’s voice travelling through your headset - “Nothing will change, Y/N.” He says, tone still shaky but at least steadier than before, “You’re still the most badass impostor among us.” He pauses, “Pun was not intended, but I truly mean it.” - “Yeah, you’re still the same and so are we, this changes nothing.” Toast says reassuringly. - “However!” Rae interrupts, causing your heart to drop, “Do you promise to never again keep us in the dark about things going on in your life? We’re your friends and we wanna be there for you, don’t keep our hands tied.” - Your heart rose and dropped yet again but did so under the effect of a completely different emotion than before - joy - The tears prickling your eyes are now happy tears, ones you hadn’t let out in years - “I promise.” You say with a sniffle, “And one more thing...” - “Yeah?” Corpse says - “Thank you.”

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[kohanayaki]

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 5

Harry confronts you with a familiar piece of suspiciously folded parchment, and you tell him the story of how you helped create it (mostly told through flashbacks taking place in the Marauders era).

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2    CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

___________________________________________________________

Ch 5 .:Narrow Spaces and New Alliances:. 

Your eyes drifted open slowly, the bright streams of sunlight coming in through your window strangely unbecoming of 12 Grimmauld Place. It took you a moment to get your bearings as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and remembered where you were. As you sat there, looking around Sirius' guest bedroom, last night's events all seemed to flood back to you at once. You groaned into the comforter, feeling your face burn as you recalled blatantly staring at his lips just minutes after crying into his shirt for at least half an hour.

Come on, get it together, you thought to yourself, you're here because Dumbledore summoned you, stay on task.

However, as soon as that memory left your head another replaced it, this one weighing heavier on your chest. You found yourself thinking back to your encounter with Severus. Well, as much as you could call it an 'encounter.' Even when you couldn't see him, you could feel him when you reached out to him with your mind. Severus was good at blocking legillemency— too good, in fact, because you would know the familiar force of his mental shield anywhere. You'd never felt it as powerful coming from anyone else. You almost laughed at the irony of it; the very thing he was trying to use to keep hidden was exactly what had given him away. That, and the smell of him, which took you back to the moment you'd first smelled that damn amortentia potion. . .

You tried to shake off the thought as you properly got out of bed and changed into some casual clothes. The next Order meeting wasn't until tomorrow afternoon, so you had the day mostly to yourself, but you knew the next time you were all in a room together you would have to address some things privately if you had any hope of working together efficiently. You gently padded down the wooden stairs, the door to Sirius' room still closed. He never was an early riser.

As you reached the kitchen you began to put a pot of coffee on when you heard someone approach the room, stalling in the kitchen entrance. You turned around to see Harry in the doorway.

“Morning,” you grinned, turning back to the counter and using your wand to bring some water to a boil, “Coffee? Tea?”

“Oh,” Harry said, a bit embarrassed you'd caught him in mid-thought, “no, I'm okay.”

“What's on your mind?” you asked.

“Um, I was wondering if you could tell me, I mean, if you have the time. . .” he trailed off, reaching for his back pocket, “well, the thing is, a few years ago I found—”

“Kreacher heard sounds coming from the kitchen and did not expect (Y/n)'s return,” Harry jumped at the house elf's sudden arrival, but you seemed unphased.  

“Though master's half mudblood godson remains here,” the elf muttered to himself, “How many more days must it be?”

“Hello, Kreacher,” you greeted him, “nothing nasty about Harry, now, alright? Don't forget he's my godson too.”

“Of course,” Kreacher said, thickly sarcastic but with respect for you in his tone nonetheless. His permanent frown seemed to deepen, however, when he saw you next to the coffee maker. “(Y/n) of house (L/n) should not have to be using the kitchen. Mistress Black would have wept to see a pureblood use muggle equipment. If (Y/n) requires refreshment Kreacher will have it ready.”

“There's no need for that,” you said, “Besides, it's done already, see? You can go on now.”

Kreacher squinted at the cup you poured for yourself. “Always peculiar,” he grumbled, stalking away at your request and muttering to himself all the while.

“He's oddly. . . nice to you,” Harry said, green eyes quizzical behind his round-framed glasses.

“He is,” you chuckled.

“But, well, you're—”

“A blood traitor?” you gave him an easy smile when you saw his expression, easing his fears that he'd actually offended you. “I know,” you said, “he's been through a lot, it's complicated. Trust me, he wasn't always like this to me. It takes time. And it doesn't hurt to be nice to him either.”

Harry decided against bringing up that the nicest person that he knew to the house elf was Hermione, who Kreacher regularly called a 'mudblood wench,' but decided to focus on the 'taking time' part of your statement, wondering  just how long this kind of progress took with the spiteful elf. Besides, you seemed to have some sort of history with him.

“Anyways, what was it you were saying?” you asked Harry.

“Oh, right,” he said, reaching back around him, “um, my friends Fred and George, you've met them?”

“Molly and Arthur's twins, of course,” you smiled, “little imps, they are. Those two could give your father and Sirius a run for their money.”

“Right!” Harry said, “well, that's sort of the point. They're the ones who gave me this.”

As you turned around to face him you stalled mid-stir, nearly dropping your mug as you did. Even as a piece of blank parchment you knew what it was, the distinctive accordion folds that met in the center giving it away.

“How in the world. . .” you trailed off as Harry handed it to you, “but Filch—”

“Didn't do a very good job of hiding it, apparently,” Harry finished, “I thought you might want to do the honors?”

You nodded wordlessly, a pang of unexpected emotion hitting you as you pressed your wand to the map's center.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

The faded, brown ink showed itself as its protection charm was washed away, revealing the nostalgia-inducing inscription scrawled in your respective handwritings:

Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs, and Fangs are proud to present: The Marauders Map

“Do Remus and Sirius know you have this?” you asked Harry, who nodded.

“Professor Lupin gave it back to me third year before he left Hogwarts,” he said, “but he never told me anything about it after that.” he seemed deep in thought for a moment before looking up at you. “If everyone else is who I think it is, you're Fangs, right?”

It was your turn to nod now.

“I always wondered, how did you do it?” Harry said, hardly containing his curiosity, and you couldn't help but think how much he looked like James in that moment. “How does it work? What sort of magic did you use? All the secret passageways, how did you find them?”

“Alright, slow down,” you laughed lightly, giving in, “I suppose there's no harm in telling you.”

Harry brightened at that, bounding into the living room and taking a seat on the couch as if to say 'we've got all day,' which you did. It warmed your heart to see him so excited, this was one of the only ways he could get to know his parents— through the stories that remained from the people who loved them. If you could help the picture of his family in his mind become a bit clearer, you would tell him any story he wanted to know. He deserved that much after everything he'd been through.

You took a seat opposite him, still nursing your cup of coffee.

“Well,” you said, “it's a long story, starting with how bad those lot were at keeping secrets. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1974   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Run!” James half shouted half laughed as Filch hobbled after the four of them. Sirius nearly bit his tongue trying to keep in his laughter as the Caretaker slung insults and promises of punishment their way, cat ears and a tail freshly sprouted from his body.

“I can't believe we actually did that,” Sirius cackled, keeping easy pace with James.

“I can't believe you dragged me into this,” Remus panted, his current body not lending itself well to physical activity. For once he actually wished he was a werewolf right about now.

“I don't know if I can keep up,” Peter wheezed, falling behind.

“Oh come on,” James said, grabbing his sleeve and helping him run, “we can out run a gummy-legged old prat like him.”

“I don't know, he's faster than he looks,” Remus pointed out as Filch rounded the corner behind them.

“Damn,” James cursed under his breath, “we'll lose him if we can make it to the one-eyed-witch passageway.”

“We'll never activate it in time,” Remus countered.

“The hallway behind the third floor tapestry?” Peter suggested.

“No, Filch knows about that one now,” Sirius said.

“Why the hell didn't you bring your cloak?” Remus huffed.

“Well getting caught wasn't supposed to be part of the plan, but someone had to let out a laugh before we could get out!”

“Just save your air and sprint!” Sirius hissed.

The extended run time was starting to catch up to all of them now, and when they'd made a wrong turn to a blocked off corridor they thought they were done for.

“Hey, morons, over here!”

Four heads snapped towards the sound of your whisper, but you were nowhere to be found. Suddenly, one of the light pillars began to shift, revealing a large crack in the wall just big enough for them to fit sideways.

No questions were asked with no time to waste, and the four boys clamored after one another so they could fit inside. Your magic moved the pillar back in place just in time, and you watched from your hiding spot as Filch reached the walled-off passage in surprise, grumbling as he looked around for the culprits behind you. You had to stifle a snicker as his cat ears lowered; was that growling coming from the back of this throat or did you imagine that? Eventually he stumbled off in frustration and you sighed.

“Alright, the coast is clear,” you said.

“Why did you help us?” James rose a brow, that signature shit-eating grin back on his face like it never left, “you haven't fallen in love with me since our truce, have you?”

“Dream on, Potter,” you rolled your eyes, pushing him out of the crevice and smirking as he tumbled to the floor.

“It seems like I'm always saving you nowadays,” you said, stepping out of the wall yourself with the rest of the boys following.

Remus was thoroughly confused, looking pointedly between you and Sirius. He knew you and James were pretty much friends now, but he also noticed that the hostile air that always seemed to be present with you and the elder Black had diminished. He'd even seen you two talking in the halls lately. Sirius gave him a look; he would explain what happened in the forest with Lucius to Remus later. Mostly he didn't want to admit that Remus was right about you not being so bad if he gave you a chance; you had actually been getting on pretty well since that night.

“You do realize it's no fun winning the house cup when you four practically make Gryffindor ineligible every year with all the shit you get up to, right?” you chuckled, “some competition would be nice for a change.”

“We'll see if you're singing the same tune when Quidditch season rolls around,” James said smugly.

“You're right,” you said, squaring up against him, “guess that's a new competition we've got going for us.”

It had recently been announced that you and James had both been selected to play Seeker for your respective houses next year. It was an arrangement that had the whole school talking, your rivalry turned (mostly) friendship now infamous, even if it was a recent occurrence.

“Hold on, how did you know that was there?” Peter asked you, pointing to the moving column, “even we didn't know about it.”

“Oh?” you crossed your arms, “and are you four supposedly some kind of all-knowing secret masters? Because clearly there's things you don't know about yet.”

Sirius slapped a hand over Peter's mouth before he could retaliate and give away what they've been working on.

“Yes, well, apparently,” he said, ignoring Peter's muffled protests.

You looked at them curiously, all four boys looking suspiciously nervous.

The next day at breakfast, James had brought up the idea of 'hiring' you to help them finish the map.

“I'm telling you, I think we can really make progress with their help,” he pitched, “they clearly know what they're talking about, and we know they can pull a hell of a prank from all the times they've gotten me.”

“How do we know they won't tell anyone?” Peter countered, “I don't know what's up with you, but you're trusting them too fast, James.”

“They're not the type that would tell,” Remus admitted.

“Oh, not you too!” Peter whined.

“I'm just saying, they'll likely appreciate what we've gathered so far and have a fair bit to add,” Lupin insisted, “it could be worth a try if you really want to finish it before we graduate—”

“Finish what?”

The four boys jolted upright, turning to see you and Lily.

“Are you guys okay?” Lily asked, concern written across her features.

“Of course!”

“Never better!”

“Why wouldn't we be?”

Remus just groaned at his friends' panicked answers. This was hopeless.

You and Lily shared a knowing look off the the side.

“Alright, whatever you say. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry laughed heartily,

“Wow, I mean, I know you said they were bad, but that bad?”

“For being expert pranksters who hardly ever managed to get caught, they were remarkably terrible at hiding things,” you said, chuckling along with him, “It didn't take us long to figure out they were up to something, although they seemed to think they were brilliant at covering it up, Remus had to burst their bubble eventually.”

Harry shook his head, smiling fondly and imagining all the scenes in his head as you continued your tale.

“So that was when they were first starting to put the map together,” you continued, “but that wasn't even the biggest secret they were hiding. Of course, I wouldn't find out about that for another year, but we'll get to that part of the story later. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1975   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This tastes awful,” Sirius complained, trying to ignore the plant prodding the under-side of his tongue.

“Well if you were expecting treacle toffee I'm sorry to disappoint,” James rolled his eyes, equally nauseated by the bitter tinge of the Mandrake leaf in his mouth.

“There's no way someone can do this for an entire month,” Peter said, “How do you brush your teeth? What if you accidentally swallow it when you're eating?”

“You three have fun with that,” Remus chuckled, flipping through an old library book and his mouth gratefully leafless.

“How about some gratitude, Moony?” James said, “We're doing this for you.”

“Please, you just want to see if you can turn into a dragon or something,” Lupin chortled, “and you don't actually have to go through with all this. Who knows if this animagus stuff will actually work.”

“Well, a dragon would suit me,” James mused, “but of course we're going to see this through, mate. You know we'd do anything for you.”

Remus smiled to himself, not responding and not needing to. He knew.

“Hey guys,” you grinned, walking up to the Gryffindor table.

Peter gulped suddenly in surprise as you came up behind him, and his eyes widened in horror.

“Shit!” he coughed out, “I-I swallowed it!”

“Your. . . food?” you questioned, glancing over at the boys who all had that same, vaguely panicked look about them.

“Okay, it was funny at first, but you guys have been acting weird since last year and now it's worrying,” you admitted.

The four looked between themselves and came to a sort of silent conclusion. Maybe in this scenario it was better to tell one secret to keep the other. And so, later that night, they told you to meet them after lights out so they could tell you what was really going on. You snuck out of your dorm room and made your way through the secret tunnel to the Gryffindor common room, a route you'd taken plenty of times to mess with James.

You pushed a loose panel of wood open, coming into the warmly lit space through one of the cabinets. You pushed an armchair that was half blocking your path out of the way as you crawled through the space.

“Blimey!” Sirius jumped, “give us a heads up, would you?”

“Sush,” Remus scolded him, “you really don't understand the concept of an inside voice, do you?”

“Alright, well I'm here,” you said, brushing off your robes, “now what's this big secret? This better not be a trick because I've been working on a new hex.”

“Nothing like that,” James assured you, “we've been working on something we think you might be interested in, if you're willing to contribute.”

He stepped to the side so you could see the floor where they'd been huddled around and your eyes widened.

“Merlin,” you said. The red and gold carpet was covered in at least forty different pieces of parchment. Pages upon pages overlapped with each other, each messily detailing a different part and level of the castle in scribbles of smudged ink. “This is. . .”

“The entirety of the Hogwarts castle and surrounding land,” Sirius said proudly, “complete with secret passageways.”

“This is our lives' work, (Y/n),” James said, “be impressed!”

“What impresses me most is how none of you have any sense of scale,” you said, sifting through the papers, “you should really condense this. Kind of hard to make any use of a map if you have to flip to page thirty-three to find the kitchens.”

“Point taken,” Remus said, “it could do with some reorganization.”

“And probably a bigger piece of paper,” you mentioned.

“Right, that. . .”

“That's not all there is to it, though,” Peter said, “Sirius?”

The curly haired boy stepped forward, pressing his wand to the center of the floor.

“Revelare Popularis,”

You watched in wonder as hundreds of names suddenly appeared across the pieces of paper, all students and faculty you recognized. They were scrawled in Sirius' handwriting, as if he'd written them himself.

“This spell shows where everyone in any location on this map is at this very moment,” he said, “It's not exact, and we've been working on variations.”

“So you can plan ahead without getting caught,” you mused, “how'd you learn something as advanced as this, Black?”

“I get around,” Sirius shrugged, unabashedly showing off. Peter rolled his eyes.

“So, the only drawback, of course, is that the spell doesn't work in real time,” Remus said, “so by the time you get where you need to go. . .”

“People will have moved,” James finished, “we're willing to share this little trove of knowledge with you if you're willing to give up all the secret rooms, passages, and hiding places you know.”

“And we thought you may have a solution to our timing problem,” Remus said, “I could tell from our study sessions you quite enjoy learning ahead of your year.”

Your eyes scanned the pages, and you were admittedly impressed. There was ton of stuff on here you had no idea about, but you knew a fair amount was missing as well. It seemed like a fair trade.

“I'm in,” you said.

“What?” Peter blinked, “it was that easy?”

“This is a useful tool you've got,” you said, “I think we can all benefit from it being improved. And now that you mention it, I actually do think I've read about a similar spell to that paper charm. It was in some Gaelic tome in the restricted section on ancient magic. I'm not even sure it used a wand. It was called the Homunculus charm. From what I read it sounded like it acted as a live feed for people in any given location, clan leaders used it to plan ambushes and keep track of citizens. If we could link it to the entire castle. . .”

“We'd be able to see where everyone is—”

“And what they're doing—”

“—At every hour of every day!”

“True, albeit a bit stalkerish,” you quipped, “you let me in on this if I add in what I know, and you got yourself a deal.”

James put out his hand, and as tempted as you were to turn it green or make all the bones in it disappear, you reached out and shook it.

“I do believe this puts us in a formal alliance, Potter,” you said cheekily.

“I believe so,” James smirked.

“Terrifying,” Remus chuckled, “This school won't even know what hit it.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” James said with a cheshire grin, “let's steal ourselves a book, shall we?”

Read chapter 6 here!

Taglist:  @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy @calaryssia @aleksanderwh0r3 @mialupin1

[theladyofdeath]

Elorcan 1st time?

PART II of drabble prompt: "Playing 2 truths and a lie while tipsy for Elorcan please", which you can read here :)

This is obviously nsfw. Caution: dirty love making. “Cock” is used, along with other sexual words of vulgarity. Anyway. Enjoy. 

Written with @snelbz

Lorcan waited for Elide to come back, but she never did. Yeah, he was a little tipsy - okay, he was straddling the border of being completely drunk - but he had meant what he had said.

I am completely in love with you.

Should that have been how he told her? No. Probably not, and he knew it as soon as the words had left his mouth, but he couldn't help it. Ten years, holding in such overwhelming feelings and emotions...they eventually just had to fall out.

He was surprised he'd held it in for so long.

Now, he almost wished he'd held it in longer.

He wasn't drunk enough to not have seen the panic in her eyes as she stood and walked away, back toward her bedroom. Which is where she had been for the last twenty minutes.

Lorcan remained lying in the beanbag in the corner of the living room, watching everyone else dance and have a good time while he drank and drank and drank.

Until eventually he couldn't take it any longer.

He pushed himself up, and caught his balance, and made his way down the hall. Elide's door was shut, which he expected, but he hadn't expected it to be locked when he tried the knob.

With a sigh, he knocked. "Elide."

Nothing.

He knocked again, harder, and consistently, until it was cracked open. "Will you stop before my door breaks in half? Gods."

Lorcan rolled his eyes and pushed his way into Elide's room, not bothering to wait for permission. He had been in Elide's room a million times, and it had looked the exact same as it had every time. Nothing had changed.

Except for the lingering discomfort in the air.

Elide didn't look at him as she shut her door behind them, shutting out the noise of the party raging outside. When it was just the two of them, standing alone in the silence, Lorcan cleared his throat.

"Care to tell me what the hell that was about?" he asked.

When she swung around, he instantly knew she was pissed. "What the hell that was about? Lorcan! You just told me that you...." She shook her head, her face falling into her hands. "Seriously?"

"That I'm in love with you?" he asked, and took in the sight before him. She wouldn't even meet his eye, and it was clear that she'd come into her room to quickly make an escape from him, to get away from him. There was no emergency of any kind, nothing else that had stolen her away. It was him. He'd told her how he felt, and it had scared her away. So, he scratched the back of his neck and said, "No, I only said that because I was drunk. I thought it would be funny, and it obviously wasn't, so...I'm sorry."

She met his eyes then, and he couldn't quite pin the emotion in her eye. Was it relief? Or disappointment?

Elide swallowed as she nodded. "Well...that's good, because I was sitting here thinking about how I could never bear to lose you. You're my best friend, Lor, and if...you did have feelings for me, that could really complicate things. So."

"Yeah," Lorcan agreed, a little too quickly. "So, I'll leave you alone in here and go back out there and get a drink and feel like an asshole."

Elide chuckled, quietly. "Yeah, alright. Pour me one too while you're out there."

Lorcan nodded and walked past her, back toward her door, but when his hand touched the cool metal knob, he froze.

Then he slowly turned around and met Elide's gaze. "You know what? I'm not sorry." Elide opened her mouth, but Lorcan cut her off. "It wasn't a joke, I was deadass serious. El, I'm in love with you, and I have been...for years. If you don't feel the same way, that's fine, but I finally spoke my truth and I'm not going to pretend like it was some douchey prank. I love you. You're incredible, and if this ruins our friendship, then that's something I'll never forgive myself for, because your friendship is the most important thing in the world to me, but...I love you. I do. And I would be a fucking idiot to act like I don't."

The words rushed out of him so quickly he wasn't even sure if they were comprehensible. Elide didn't say a word. In fact, he wasn't even certain she was breathing, she just stared at him with those big, dark eyes.

Lorcan turned back around and threw open the door when it became clear that there would be no response, but the second he crossed the threshold, she was calling his name.

"Lor, wait."

He did.

He didn't want to, didn't want to get shot down by the person who had saved him in every possible way throughout the last decade, but he was weak when it came to her demands.

"Look at me," she pleaded.

He did that, too.

He turned, and met her eye. She was closer now, only a few feet away from where he stood, halfway in the hall.

"You think I don't feel the same?" she asked, quietly.

He blinked. "You just said-."

"I haven't told you how I felt because you're the most important person to me, too," she whispered, taking another step toward him. "If we...acted on this, and it ended badly, and I didn't have you in my life anymore..." She shook her head. "Lor, I couldn't handle that. I would rather have you as my friend than not at all."

He stared at her. It was the last thing he expected her to say after what she had said before. Now she was there, looking at him completely raw, telling him that she felt the same way.

Lorcan stepped back into the room and shut the door behind him. "You know what your problem is?"

She rolled her eyes. "Seriously? That's what you're going to lead with in this moment?"

"Your problem is," Lorcan went on, ignoring her question completely, "that you think too damn much."

She opened her mouth to speak, surely to protest, but Lorcan had closed the distance between them in one long stride, took her up into his arms, and kissed her, slowly.

Elide immediately melted into that kiss, her arms going around his neck as her feet were swept off the ground. As her legs wrapped around his waist, Lorcan turned and had her back pressed up against her bedroom door. Holding her up with his hips, he cupped her face, and when they finally broke apart, his hands remained on her cheeks, his forehead having fallen against hers as they both struggled to calm their breathing.

Their eyes met, and neither of them said a word as their lips touched again. The kiss was slow, sensual, full of endless longing.

Lorcan had spent long hours wondering how well Elide kissed, but his imagination hadn't even come close to the reality of the feeling of his mouth on hers.

Her tongue swept between his lips and brushed along his teeth. His hands fell from her face and down her body until he had the hem of her tank top in his fingers, and he was pulling it over her head. His eyes trailed down her body, and Elide took the opportunity to unhook the clasp of her bra and drop it to her carpet.

Gently, Lorcan cradled her full breast in the palm of his hand and brushed his thumb over her nipple as her chest rose and fell in quick, rapid motions.

"Now you."

Lorcan's eyes snapped to hers, and she gestured to his shirt. After setting her down on the floor, he pulled his tee over his head, and her fingers were instantly against his skin. She traced the lines of his muscles, and Lorcan didn't dare move. He stood perfectly still, perfectly quiet, while her fingers roamed his body. They trailed from his abdomen, up to his chest, then down his side, and the edge of the v that disappeared beneath his jeans.

She stopped at the band of his boxer-briefs that were peeking out above his jeans, and she looked up, her eyes meeting his, and she popped open his button, and slid his zipper down.

Lorcan still didn't move, was terrified to. Apparently, keeping still had it's advantages and he wasn't about to curse the situation.

He’d made the right decision, too, he’d decided, and Elide inched down Lorcan’s jeans until they were in a pile on the floor beside them. She palmed the hardened bulge in his boxer-briefs, and a soft groan left Lorcan’s lips.

The sound made Elide grin from pure satisfaction.

That grin only disappeared when she pulled those boxer-briefs down, and Lorcan’s cock sprung free, making Elide’s eyes widen and her mouth run dry. For a second, she didn’t move, and for Lorcan, that alone was agonizing.

Then, without a word, she dropped to her knees and met his gaze through her long, dark lashes as she slowly licked the tip. 

Lorcan cursed, the sight nearly making him combust. He brushed the hair out of her face so that he wouldn’t miss a damned second of what was about to take place, before letting his hands fall back to his sides.

Elide’s hands had other plans. They wrapped around his cock and began working the base as her mouth took him in. It was slow at first, then with each pass Elide took him in a little deeper, a little further, a little faster. He watched her head bob, watched as this woman he was so madly in love with sucked him dry. 

He forced his eyes not to shut, forced his head not to fall back, forced his hands to remain at his sides. It was an all new kind of torture, one he couldn’t endure as one hand, at last, came to rest on the back of Elide’s head, his fingers weaving through her hair with enough force to make Elide moan, softly, against his sensitive skin. 

That moan reverberated through his entire body, from his cock to his chest where a growl pulled from him. Elide’s slim hand tightened, working him harder, quicker, and it was something straight out a wet dream he’d had a million times.

He just never imagined it was something he’d experience in his waking moments.

She looked up at him, and he was frozen, chest heaving as he stared down into those big, dark eyes. Eyes that were as glazed with lust as they were the alcohol that flowed through both of their veins. But there was something else in them, something he hadn’t seen in a gaze in a long time.

Care and longing and…love.

She could tell him that she loved him until she was blue in the face, but there was no denying that those eyes were full of love as she looked up at him. It nearly brought him to his knees with her. 

That realization only brought him to his release quicker, and Elide’s head fell back as he came onto her breasts, her hands continuing to work him until there was nothing left. 

Lorcan’s hand remained on the back of her head, if only for balance as he swore, and closed his eyes. By the time he opened them again, Elide was rising and crossing her room for a towel that hung on a hook by her door, which she used to wipe his cum off her skin. 

Lorcan watched the entire thing attentively, and when she turned back around and met his stare with a sly smile, he asked, his voice low, “Why the hell aren’t you naked?”

It was unfair, really, to be completely nude while her jeans remained. Elide didn’t argue, and in answer, she slowly shimmied out of her jeans until she stood before him in a lacy, black thong.

Lorcan’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he had only taken one step toward her when she slipped that thong off, too. When she rose again, there was nothing hiding her beautiful body.

The next thing he did was something he swore he had absolutely no control of. He picked her up and threw her back onto the bed, before crawling up after her, his body covering hers. It was rough and primal and something he’d imagined doing but never thought he’d actually get to do. His lips wrapped around one of her nipples and she moaned as her hand dove into her hair.

Her legs were already parted to make room for his body, so he had easy access to slide a knuckle between her folds, surprised to find her already warm and wet for him. He pulled back to tease her, to say something that would no doubt cause the blush on her cheeks to deepen, but he was interrupted by a knocking on her door.

“Elide?” Aelin called, over the music still playing in the living room. “You okay in there? I haven’t seen in you in a while.”

Lorcan was about to holler back but Elide’s hand covered his mouth.

“I’m okay,” she replied. “Just wasn’t feeling great. Decided to lay down.”

The knob shook as she tried to open it and both Elide and Lorcan were extremely grateful Lorcan had thought to lock it when he’d closed it before.

There was a pause on the other end. “Okay, well, can I get you anything?”

“No, go have fun!” she called, and Lorcan snorted into the hand that was still covering his mouth. 

“Alright,” Aelin muttered, as she walked away.

They both remained still for a moment on the bed before Elide’s hand fell away and Lorcan slowly shook his head. “You didn’t want her to hear me pleasuring you?” he asked, a long finger slowly slipping up inside of her.

Elide’s lashes batted against her porcelain skin. “If you pleasure me as well as I think you will, the whole damn party just might hear.”

A soft growl escaped him as Lorcan leaned down to kiss her. The kiss was short, sweet, and then his mouth trailed across her cheek, and along her jaw, and down her neck where he stopped to suck that sensitive spot, just at its base. Then his lips fell to her breasts, once more, and he took her nipple between his lips, tugging on it with his teeth.

Elide hissed, her hands diving into his hair. Lorcan gave her breasts the attention they deserved before moving on, his lips trailing down her abdomen, and when he spread her legs open as wide as they could go, Elide’s eyes shut in preparation for the bliss that was about to occur. 

Lorcan leaned back to observe her sex, and took his time before sliding his tongue slowly between her folds. 

Elide muttered a curse that had Lorcan’s hands tightening around her ass. 

True to her words, the moan that Lorcan’s tongue wrung from Elide was far from quiet. If Aelin had still been on the other side of the door, she would have immediately known Elide had been lying, would have put two and two together when she noticed Lorcan’s absence as well, and would be banging on Elide’s door, demanding to know what the hell she thought she was doing.

Elide couldn’t find it within herself to care. Not as Lorcan’s lips wrapped around her clit and sucked gently. Something that sounded like his name tumbled from her lips, but she was far past coherent thoughts as she gripped her breast with one hand and Lorcan’s hair with the other.

That grip fueled Lorcan more and he sucked a little bit faster, a little bit harder, his tongue going wild as he feasted. Those moans from Elide grew louder, and the fact that she wasn’t a quiet lover had Lorcan feeling even more excited. She was wild, and she knew exactly what she liked - Lorcan admired that.

Elide’s back arched and her knees around Lorcan’s head tightened around him. She gasped between those moans, those delicate fingers woven into his hair gripping the strands to the point of pain. A delightful, wonderful, exhilarating pain. 

“I can’t,” she breathed, followed by a lovely string of curses. “I’m going to- Lorcan-.”

She came, and Lorcan held onto her ass, his tongue continuing to circle her clit as she did so. He didn’t lean back and look up until she was finished, and her body collapsed onto her blankets. And when he did, he climbed up her body, took her face into his hands, and kissed her. His chin was wet from her, but he didn’t care, and she didn’t seem to, either, as he sank down on top of her, hiking up one of her legs around his ass. 

“I want you,” he muttered, into her lips, as if it wasn’t obvious enough by now. “Gods, I want you.”

She kissed him again, roughly, her tongue exploring his mouth, tasting herself on him, and breathed, “Then take me.”

There was no hesitation after that, no lingering touches or kisses. Not as Lorcan reached between them, lining himself up with her entrance and sank into her warm wetness.

It wasn’t rough, he didn’t want to hurt her, but by no means was it gentle. He filled her with one, long stroke, while she gasped and clung to his back. Her nails sank into the muscles she’d lusted after for so long, his name falling from her lips with a string of curses behind it. He echoed the sentiment as he pulled back and pushed back into her, setting a strong, relentless pace.

Her eyes kept trying to flutter closed, barely able to endure the sensation of having him so deep inside of her, but she kept them firmly on his. She could watch as that cool, well-maintained demeanor began to fall to pieces, could feel it as his thrusts became harder and faster, until before she knew it the headboard was slamming against the wall.

Surely Aelin would hear that.

Neither of them cared.

Lorcan fucked her, unceasing and without abandon. Their eyes remained locked the entire time, although with great difficulty. They didn’t want to miss it, though, didn’t want to miss the reactions, the emotions, the realizations that after all that time had passed, they were finally there, together, in that moment, and no one would ever take that away from them. It was a memory, a part of their story, that would forever be cherished and never forgotten. 

Elide came, her knees shaking around Lorcan’s waist, and he only lasted a moment longer before he was pushed far over the edge. When they were done, they laid cuddled up together beneath her blankets, Lorcan’s arm draped around her bare waist as his face rested in the crook of her neck, and she ran her fingers through his long, messy hair. 

As they were beginning to drift off into a sound, dreamless sleep, Lorcan said, quietly, “I want it to be noted that I didn’t tell you that I love you to get you in bed.” 

Elide laughed, breathlessly, as she looked over at him. “No?”

He shook his head, knowing full well that she knew better. He explained himself, nonetheless. “No. I meant it, Elide. I love you. I have, for a long time, and I will, for a long time.”

Her eyes softened as she pressed her lips softly against his forehead. “I love you, too. Always have, always will.” 

[otptings]

Insomnia

-Idol ~ Kun

-Genre ~ Sick Fic, Smut, Fluff

-Warnings ~ insomnia, lack of appetite & weight loss, pillow princess by force, oral (f receiving), passionate fucking, dry humping? (she's half naked but he's fully dressed), daddy kink, rough sex, choking, degradation,

-Word Count ~ 2.9k+

-Synopsis ~ Sleeping never comes easy to. You've tried everything from exercising, to warm milk. Maybe the one thing you've been missing is some late night loving?

-A/n ~ loosely inspired by sky Insomnia, the rose insomnia, and dreamcatcher sleep-walking. best to listen to any of those songs as you read it, might help set the mood even though those are all break up songs lmfao. I also have my ko-fi link in my bio help raise more money to help me buy essentials for my emotional support animal, I cannot work at the minute because of my treatment for type 1 bipolar disorder, and door dash doesn't allow me to save up abundantly enough, if you could even only share it I would greatly appreciate it. anyway hope you enjoy this and thank you for reading

Sleep and you have always had a complicated relationship. Fighting sleep as a kid, climbing out of your bed after your parents tucked you in, playing with your toys until you passed out among us. At sleepovers you were always the one who stayed up all night, too excited to actually get tired.

As a teenager spending nights before school desperately trying to finish homework, staying up until the early morning hours, quickly taking a shower before running to the bus. If you had no assignments your crush at the time would distract you, joking and blushing until it was time to leave for school, bags under your eyes prominent, but the loss of sleep was worth it.

Now the only thing you wanted was to sleep.

Insomnia took over your life. Staying up sometimes days at a time, struggling to calm your racing thoughts that were determined to keep you up at night. They won most nights. Laying in your bed, struggling to get comfortable or staring up at the ceiling, willing sleep to overtake you. Even with the medication from the doctor you struggled to get more than 3 hours a night.

You tried other remedies too. Drinking warm milk with cinnamon and vanilla, the warm concoction soothing but never tiring you out. Exercising before bed that truly made you feel amazing but never worked to tire you out, only forcing you to feel the soreness in your body as you laid in bed. No electronics before bed helped you finish multiple books series that you had wanted to start but never had time for, but didn't work.

Everything you tried was in vain. Sleep continued to evade you, and it only took a higher toll on your physical body.

Your appetite started to lessen, your weight slowly declined. The bags under your eyes only got deeper and darker. Concerns about your physical state came form your friends, their worries growing as you continued to get worst and worst. It came to a peak when you almost passed out at an outing, shaky from the constant stream of caffeine that you were consuming in order to function properly, your eyes fluttering close as you collapsed into their arms. Concern was properly covering their face, and they rushed you to the hospital, you were too weak to even try and decline them.

At the hospital they gave you strict instructions to stay home and rest, with someone watching you over to make sure that you were properly taken care of. Along with instructions you got even stronger medication, 20 mgs stronger than what you were currently taking.

Kun being the thoughtful person he is offered to watch you while you were on bedrest. He was the best candidate out of your friends, the others practically pushing you to accept him.

Kun has been the best assistant? nurse? friend that you could ask for. Constantly at your beck and call making sure that you were drinking plenty of water, cooking you fresh homemade meals, and making sure your medication was taken on time. Along with that he also did the awkward task of helping you to the bathroom, since you were still shaky and weak at times.

He did this all without complaint, catering to you everyday and making sure that you were cared for. Sometimes when he wasn't busy with his own work he would sit and watch a drama with you, or just engage in conversation telling you about his day, and the funny things he did and heard.

Having him helping you 24/7 for 2 weeks straight, had caused some unwelcome feelings. Your friends weren't surprised at that, having been part of the reason why they suggested he did it, knowing your past feelings for him. With only a week left of your bedrest you were saddened at the thought that he was leaving, going back to only talking to him once or twice a week whenever the friend group hung out.

Kun had actually been the one who surprised you. Seeing that you were still up one night, thoughts of him running through your mind when he entered your room. Upon seeing you awake he sat on your bed, holding your hand as you asked what's up. You weren't truthful. Who would be truthful in that scenario? 'Hey actually I was up thinking about my crush on you and the desire that I constantly have to kiss you."

You were positive that wouldn't have gone through well.

Kun rubbed your hand soothingly, listening patiently to you as you lied about what you were thinking about, fake worries and complaints about going back to work. Offering you advice was always Kun's strong suit so you were ready for some good advice despite your lies.

That's what got you in this peculiar position.

Lip tucked tightly between your teeth, the taste of copper on your tongue. One hand grasping at the pillow behind you squeezing it tightly between your fingers, the other intertwined with dark blue hair as you tried not to pull too hard.

Kun thought the best thing to clear your mind was sex, and who were you to deny his generous offer.

You felt your hips jerking as tongue pressed his tongue against your hole, shallowly fucking into you. His free hand rubbed up your thigh, the sensation combining with him eating you out causing your mind to start to go blurry. His hand continued to glide up, before pressing down on your hips, forcing them down on the bed.

Without the ability to move you could only lie there as he continued to tongue fuck you. The fire in your stomach increasing, and Kun seemed to know it as he kissed your clit before sucking on it aggressively, causing your first orgasm to rip through your body.

Kun continued his ministrations, licking up your cum causing the fire to come back threefold. Kun sucked on your clit, flicking his tongue over it as you wriggled from the sensitivity. He seemed to be made for this, the way his tongue knew the perfect ways to fuck you open, and he hadn't even involved his fingers or cock yet.

Pulling away from your cunt you saw your juices covering Kun's mouth leaking down his chin. His hair was sticking every which way how you were messing, and pulling on it. Kun looked like all of your wet dreams had happened to come through.

"So pretty." A laugh let his mouth, a smiling spreading over his lips.

"Wish you could see yourself," Kun slid his hand up and down your thigh, rubbing it soothingly, "You're gorgeous. I've been wanting to do this for so long."

Kun changed the positions so that you were on top, straddling his thighs. You could feel his cock straining against his jeans, rubbing over your oversensitive clit in the best way possible. A whimper left your mouth as you started to rock on him, but Kun stilled your hips. His hand slid to your chin, rubbing his thumb along the side of your jaw.

"Can I kiss you?" You didn't bother answering, meeting him halfway. His chapped lips moved against your own as if you've done it before, there was a familiarity to it that made you wrap your arms around his neck pulling him flush against your chest. Sliding his hands up and down your body, lips moving in sync against yours. You nipped at his lip, causing a loud groan to leave his mouth as he opened it for you. Sliding your tongue into his mouth you reveled in the feeling of him taking dominance. His hands gripping your ass tightly, his tongue roughly dancing with yours.

You pulled away, placing your hips on his shoulders as you continued to grind against him. Another groan leaving his mouth as he moved you against him, forcing you to press down harder and faster against him.

"God baby." He leaned back as he looked at you, admiring the way you moved against him, needy and wanting to cum again. "You're so need baby. Who's got you like this hm?" You dropped your head back, continuing to rock your hips against his. Kun felt his cock twitching in his pants at the sight, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you close to him, placing kisses along your neck and collarbones.

"Kun I need you." You tried to sound strict but it came breathy, a moan following it as he kisses over your jugular, nipping at it before listening to your 'command'. Flipping you over he gave you a peck, before pulling away to take off his clothes. You decided to join him stripping out of your shirt and throwing it across the room.

Kun crawled back over you, but he stopped just taking the time to stare at you.

"I need to say this before. I'm not just fucking you because of your insomnia, I'm not just fucking you to fuck you." Kun intertwined your fingers, "I really like you. I don't want this to just not mean anything to you, when I really like you. Even thought we're doing this backward I hope you can at least think of going on a date with me." You felt your face heat up, and the familiar feeling of fluttering in your stomach at his confession. Placing your hand on his cheek you leaned up, placing a quick kiss on his lips.

"I like you too Kun. More than I can put words to." A big smile spread across his face as he leaned down, showering your face with kisses. "But if you don't put your dick in me right now, you might not ever get that date." A laugh left his mouth as he placed one last kiss against your check, before grabbing the base of his cock and rubbing it up and down your cunt. Collecting some of your juices over his tips he looked down as he pressed into you, muttering a fuck at the sight of you taking him in so well. You threw your head back feeling the fuzziness come back, feeling how well he slid into you.

When Kun bottomed out he placed your still intertwined hands on the pillow beside you, his other hand sliding back to your hip.

"Fuck you feel so good." He growled as he waited for you to adjust, feeling your tight walls practically sucking him in.

"Please move. Please I need you." Kun placed a gentle kiss on your pouty lips before pulling. Thrusting back into you he set a slow pace, being gentle with you not forgetting that you were still on bed rest. Your other arm wrapped around his neck, pulling you closer to him. Feeling skin against skin as he continued to slowly fuck you, enjoying the feeling of him being close to you.

It was more intimate than it should've been, being the first time that you two were having sex but with Kun it felt right. This was more love making than casual fucking and you wouldn't have it any other way. The coil in your stomach started to tighten, Kun's groans helping greatly to push you towards the edge, but the pace he had set wasn't doing it for you.

"Kun." He slowed down, hearing the desperation in your voice and not wanting to hurt you.

"Yes baby? Am I hurting you?" You could hear the slight panic in his voice and shook your head, before meeting his eyes.

"Faster please. I need you rougher." Kun pushed your hair back, before cupping your cheek.

"Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you, you were just hospitalized."

"Please fuck me harder. I need you to ruin me daddy." At your words Kun's eyes darkened and without warning he thrust into you hard, causing a punched out moan to leave your mouth.

The mood changed just the way you needed it to, instead of being slow love sex Kun was fucking you. Hips meeting during every perfectly timed thrust, hitting deep within you as the sound of his balls smacking against your ass filled the room. He let go of your hand, instead opting to grab your waist and pulled you to meet him halfway on every thrust.

Ceaseless moans leaving your lips at the feeling of him fucking into you so beautifully, filling every inch of you. Opening your eyes that hadn't even realized had closed you were met by the sight of Kun, sweat glistening over his abs and dripping down his face. His hair plastered to his forehead, as he bit his lip harshly trying to hold back his groans. Your neighbors should really thank him for having some self control.

Kun slowed down as he lifted your legs up, pushing them towards your chest, folding you in half as he continued his rough pace. This new position causing you to feel him in your chest, the feeling of fullness completely overtaking you as you orgasmed for the second time. He fucked you through your orgasm, the tingly feeling spreading towards your hips as overstimulation set in. Even though his cock was dragging against your walls beautifully, blunt tip pressing into your g spot it started to get painful.

The feeling of it being too much, but not enough at the same time. Tears welling up in your eyes, as Kun pressed against your legs pushing them back further and forcing his cock impossibly deeper.

"F-fuck daddy please." You didn't even know what you were begging for anyway, him effectively fucking you dumb, his hands gripping your thighs tightly to the point where you knew you'd have bruises the next day.

"So tight around me, your pussy is sucking me in even after two orgasms? What's wrong baby? Two isn't enough, you need me to milk another one out of you?" You couldn't respond to him, only listened to him as he spoke, groans leaving his mouth harmonizing with your moans almost.

"Poor baby is fucked dumb," A cruel laugh left his mouth as he stuffed two fingers into your mouth. You sucked on his fingers, twirling your tongue around them. "Can't even speak, only babble and suck on my fingers huh? Lucky you're so cute. You liked being called dumb huh? Can feel the way you're pussy clenched around me? Must be close again." You could only let out a muted moan, Kun's fingers still pressed against your tongue, gagging you effectively.

Pulling his fingers out of your mouth he slid his hand around your throat, tapping his too soaked fingers on the side of your neck.

"So close baby. So. fucking. close." Punctuating his words with an extra hard thrust in between you had lost the ability to think, his hand gently around your neck, more like an accessory but just at the thought of him choking you felt yourself drooling, his thrusts still reaching that spot inside of you that was so deep it'd never been touched before.

As if hearing your thoughts, Kun's hand tightened around your throat, pressing you against the mattress. You came at that moment, Kun's tip hitting your g spot perfectly. Your eyes rolled back as you felt like you had exploded, all of your energy draining out of you with your third orgasm of the night.

At the feeling of you clenching around him so tightly, practically holding you in place Kun pulled out and quickly jerked himself off, cumming over your lower stomach. Kun marveled at the sight of you laid out below him, lips swollen from biting them, hair frizzy from rubbing against the pillow, his white cum painting your stomach, a light red mark around your neck from his hand.

Kun let you sit for a couple minutes before carrying you to the bathroom for a well needed shower. Setting you on the toilet, he let you pee while he started the warm. When you were finished and the water was warm enough Kun helped you into the shower, letting you lean against him as he started to clean the cum from your body.

"Are you okay?" You looked up at Kun, basking in the feeling of the warm water running down your body as Kun rubbed the soapy loofa over your body.

"Never felt better." A crooked smile spread across your face, too tired to even continue the conversation. Kun kissed you on your temple , seemingly sensing it and helped you rinse out. After getting you redressed and back into your bed with clean sheets, Kun went to go to the living room until you grabbed his arm.

"Can you stay?" Even after having sex Kun was still nervous to sleep in the bed with you, but he obliged hearing your soft, sleepy voice. Climbing into bed with you he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

"Thank you." Kun hummed, the vibration spreading through his chest and making you giggle.

"For?"

"Taking care of me." Kun placed another kiss on your head.

"You don't have to thank me. I wanted to care for you. Now get some sleep." Cuddling further into Kun, the beat of his heart along with the rise and fall of his chest lulled you to sleep.

For the first time in years, you slept like a baby.

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

call out my name pt. 2

summary: spencer rushes off to fix things with y/n, but can they really be fixed?

word count: 2,371                                                                                     reading time aprox: 9 mins

a/n: i just wanted to say thank you for all the support and praise i received on here, especially seeing all of my favorite authors comment and reblog my work is so heartening. thank you all so much for the support, you’re the reason why i have the encouragement to continue doing what i love <3

masterlist

part 1

The rain pattered against the window panes, interlocking with the light that shone through the sheer curtains of my apartment. A cold breeze slipped through the crack of the window, letting it venture through the dim room before it graced my skin. Although the sensation hadn’t registered in my mind as the plain beige wall in front of me consumed my attention. 

The hypnotic sound of the rain provided a consistent rhythm that encouraged my introspection. In the entire duration of my break, I’ve let my thoughts filter and organize themselves. I’ve felt powerless against the accusations that my brain has thrown towards me, setting my emotions to the side in a state of suspense. 

My knees were curled up against my chest, my unwashed hair scrunched up against my cheeks, and my sweater was littered with unknown stains and dried tears. Along with the descension of my reasonability, my hygiene followed shortly after. 

I was brought out of my bubble by the buzz of my phone. I turned it off weeks ago from the constant notifications I got from the team, it was only when I received a text message from my mother that I decided to turn it back on for the day. 

I reached over to the side table where my phone laid, feeling my muscles tense up and ache from the lack of movement I’ve done these past weeks. Turning it on, the intense light blinded me, leaving me disoriented. When my eyes finally adjusted to the sudden change of light, I wished that I had been blinded a little longer than I was. 

The notification read ‘New Voicemail: JJ <3’ 

My breath got pushed back in my throat, a wave of discomfort flooding over my entire body as my thumb hesitated over the notification. My lips trembled, swallowing my saliva while a debate ensued between my impulsivity and my timidity. With a numb boost of confidence I hurriedly pressed on the notification, traveling through my phone to hear out her message. 

“Hey Y/N” The message began. “I know that you heard...about what I said to Spence-” Her voice was low and full of penance, although any remorse that I tried to comprehend washed away at her use of Spencer’s nickname. “Gosh, I don’t even - I don’t even know how to begin to apologize for what I said - I - you don’t know how much Spence loves you and how much he talks about you” She sighed, her tone picking up as she praised Spencer. “But what I said was completely inappropriate and I’m so sorry for what I said. Telling Spence that I loved him was way out of line, considering that you’re such a dear friend to me, and especially since things are so complicated with me and Will - I just - I’m so sorry that I told him that I love-” 

The rest of the message was left to the imagination as I forcefully threw my phone against the beige wall, denting it in the process. A flurry of newfound rage clouded my mind, providing a break from the contradicting thoughts that usually engulfed my head. For once, I had directed the emotion towards another individual rather than myself. 

The phone fell with a heavy thud, glass debris flying across the floor, decorating the oak floors with fragments. I could care less about the material expense that I would have to pay; my blind resentment tainting my rationality. 

My chest heaved in exasperation as a novel onslaught of tears pricked the corners of my eyes. Although the quantity of tears were sparse because they were wasted on my self reproach the previous week. I furiously wiped them away, detaching myself from the malicious feeling, a habit I came to develop. 

I adapted to the stupefaction that infiltrated my heart, at times feeling grateful for the ability. The coldness that surrounded my small living room couldn’t compare to the icy innards of my chest. 

Finally collecting my composure, I looked over to a mirror that sat between my bookshelves, taking in my disheveled and ragged appearance. 

JJ wouldn’t look like this

My face contorted into a somber expression, letting my insecurities slip through the hard persona I persisted to instill in myself. I surveyed the filthy environment that surrounded me; the floor was painted with old dirt, the furniture had accumulated colonies of dust, and the roses that sat on the kitchen counters had wilted. 

JJ would never let herself go like this

Who was I kidding? Who was I, Y/N Y/L/N, to compare to a Georgetown graduate, an astounding profiler, and an icon of beauty? 

Well the one thing I had that she didn’t was Spencer

But did I really? 

I was startled out of my grim assessment by a frantic knocking against my front door. I groaned internally, not hesitating to stay where I was situated. I couldn’t handle any human interaction at the moment, frankly I didn’t want any human interaction at all. I’ve learned to love the little cocoon I had built around me, finding serendipity in my self-isolation. 

“Go away!” I attempted to shout, but all that came out was a hoarse whimper that sent a sharp pain to my esophagus. I flinched as the knocking became more frantic, the volume elevating along with the forceful jabs against the wood. 

I felt my ears ring, using my hands to alleviate the pounding that attacked my eardrums. I was about to open my mouth to disclose another warning, but a familiar voice had interrupted me. 

“Y/N! Y/N are you in there!” Spencer yelled, slamming his fists against the door between every phrase. 

I froze in my spot, a wave of mixed emotions coming over me as my cheeks flushed at hearing his voice for the first time in a long time. The familiar sound sent shockwaves down my spine and dread silenced my tongue. It felt like I was on high alert, like an animal paranoid of its prey. 

“Y/N! Just - god please tell me you’re at least okay” He stammered in his fit of hysteria, the bangs on the door slowing in rhythm. 

Silence followed his pleas, instilling a sense of relief that I didn’t know I needed. Movement outside stilled, making me think that he had given up his relentless efforts and went elsewhere. I let out a breath that I held in, alleviating the stress that had accumulated inside of me. 

Although the moment that I began to relax into my seat, two blaring shots rattled through the apartment complex. The scent of gunpowder meshed with the dewy air as I jumped out of my seat, startled and alarmed. I closed my eyes and covered my ears with my palms, the ringing leaving me blindsided. 

“Y/N! Y/N? Are you there?” Spencer rushed in with his gun pointed, his feet clattering against the floor in a haste. 

“What the fuck Spencer” I hoarsely whispered, although the meekly volume of my voice hadn’t penetrated this ears. 

“Y/N!” He called out once again, slowing his movements as his sneakers squeaked with every step he made. 

“I’m here Spencer, I’m here” I repeated, using all my might to push the small phrase off of my tongue. My throat stung at the strain of my voice, a burning feeling eliciting from the back of my throat due to the dryness. This time I had caught his attention.

We locked eyes for a brief moment before I quickly broke our line of sight, insecure about my current appearance; even after a month I still held Spencer’s opinion to the highest magnitude. In the time that I observed him, I noticed that he was drenched in rain water, his hair tangled and strung out from his head while droplets proceeded behind him. 

“I-” He breathed, his words caught in his throat. He dropped his revolver beside him in incredulity, drinking in my battered presence. He didn’t look too well either, his stature was still the same but the bags under his eyes were prominent, his cheeks were puffed from exhaustion, and his posture resembled the hunchback of Notre Dame. 

“W- what are y- you doing here Spencer?” I croaked, rubbing my hands against my arms in an attempt for any type of coverage. 

My senses heightened as I waited for his response. He brought in such a familiar, yet unfamiliar presence with him. It felt like I was home, but so far away from it at the same time. 

Maybe it was the way that I longed for the warmth of his embrace, the calming rhythm of his heart beat while I slept on his chest, and the soothing melody of his voice while he read to me. But maybe it was also the way he hadn’t dared to speak when JJ’s voice was full of love, when he assumed that I hadn’t acknowledged the endearments he received from another woman, and when I became a distant thought in the back of his head. 

I’ve never doubted Spencer’s eidetic memory, but this time I questioned my place in that brilliant mind of his. Maybe for the first time, I was the one thought that had ceased to exist. 

“I - why didn’t you tell me?” He uttered, running his hand over his jaw in grievance. His eyes burned holes into me, the intense glare making me feel small under his scrutiny. 

I couldn’t answer

“God Y/N - I don’t even - why didn’t you even tell me?” 

“I - uh - I don’t” I stuttered, unable to muster the confidence or cognitive ability to speak; it was like my brain had turned into mush. 

“Please talk to me” He pleaded, taking a hesitant step closer to me. 

I stumbled back in a haste like he was some sort of repellent. I felt a constant push and pull in my gut, messing with my innate instincts. 

“Spencer don’t-” I warned, seeing how he had taken a few determined strides towards me. 

“Spence...please don't - p- please” I whimpered, feeling a wet substance slide down the apple of my cheeks. I tasted the crimson blood mix with the salty residue on my lips, unaware of how hard I bit down on the skin. 

Pained tears continued to fall incessantly from my eyes, matching the way the rain ran down my window panes previously. I saw Spencer’s figure slump down in defeat, the helplessness in my words permeating his eardrums. 

“Y/N just - please let me fix - Y/N just please let me fix us” He solicited, looking to me for permission to advance. 

“Spencer there’s no need for fixing anythi-” 

“Yes there is Y/N-” 

“No there isn’t Spencer!” I persisted, convincing myself that I had everything under control. I shut my eyes in frustration, shaking my head in denial while I reminded myself of all the malicious emotions I refused to feel. 

“Y/N please just list-” 

“No Spencer. I know what to do and I know how to deal with-” 

“No Y/N! No you don’t - god you’re so stubborn sometimes -” He imprudently blurted out, pinching at the bridge of his nose to collect his composure. “Y/N - please just…” He sighed, looking deep into my eyes from a distance. “Please just let me in” He begged, a few tears slipping from the corners of his somber irises. His face wore an anguished and desperate expression, an expression that had the ability to end a war. 

My cold exterior shattered instantaneously from the sight of Spencer, feeling my heart being tugged into multiple directions until all that was left was a pained human muscle. As much as I wanted to convince myself of an ardent persona, I knew that Spencer was the only person that could invoke such a visceral reaction from me. Whether I accepted the feeling or not, I knew that Spencer’s effect on me was unmatched to any delusions I made myself to believe. 

My lips trembled uncontrollably as a soft sob rolled off my tongue. I looked to Spencer for aid, feeling my entire facade crash and burn. My knees buckled and weakened from reality coming in all at once. When the first cry fell from my mouth, more followed soon after. 

I became a drenched mess that sat in the middle of the living room. I felt deceived by myself, developing a sense of self resentment as my mindset came into actualization. I grieved for the fragment of myself that I secluded and killed off because of my inability to process my agony, longing for that piece of me back. 

Spencer came to my rescue, engulfing me in his arms and encroaching me with his touch. I leaned into his chest, desperately clutching onto the dress shirt he wore. My tears stained his blazer, leaving puddles along the fabric, but I couldn’t care less. 

I breathed in the sedative scent, feeling it flush through my nostrils, reminding me of home. I held onto his arms tightly, afraid that he would disappear the moment I let go of him. 

Spencer tried to reach down to grab a hold of my cheek, but I nudged his fingers away, climbing into his lap as I buried my face into the crook of his neck. 

He cooed into my hair, stroking my back while he whispered his endearments in my ear. “You’re okay Y/N - we’re going to be okay” He breathed, letting out a staggered exhale as he enunciated his words. 

Light rushed into my chest at that moment, letting it conquer and cut through the caution tape I had wired around my feelings. Shutting my eyes, I relaxed into his love, letting it infiltrate and replace my fears. 

I didn’t doubt that it was going to take time to heal and repair, but at least it was beginning. 

“I love you so so much Y/N - more than you can ever conceive” He declared, pressing a soft kiss on my temple. “And nobody will ever tell me otherwise” 

I knew from that moment that I didn’t have to walk on a tightrope no longer because I knew it was my name that Spencer would be calling out.

-

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