#but just know when you start you’ll never stop

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - NINE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of leukemia; death; pregnancy; abortion.

💌MASTERLIST

Rafe had been through a ton of traumatic bullshit by the age of fourteen. 

His mom had been battling leukemia since he was ten, it started off as an infection—but it turned into one of those long, drawn-out wars that tricks you into thinking there’s hope when there isn’t.

It would go away for a bit, just enough to make everyone think the fight was over, and then it’d come slamming back worse every time.

When he was fourteen, it finally took her for good, when he’d been silly enough to believe she might pull through. 

To be fair, he was only a little kid waiting on a miracle, praying she’d wake up one day magically cured.

Now, when he looked back on it, he hated himself for being so naive. The signs had been there all along, the nurses whispering in the hallways, Ward turning into this void of a human, who looked at him like he didn’t know how to fix it anymore. The talks his mom would have with him about how “no matter what happens, you’ll be okay.”

That phrase haunted him for years.

Her death didn’t wreck him; it tore him apart and left him in tiny pieces that didn’t fit together the same way. He wasn’t the same kid afterward, not even close.

He got angrier, distant. 

He didn’t recognize who he’d been before it all—some kid who really believed in happy endings.

He didn’t believe in much after she died, people let you down, life ripped everything good out of your hands. Why bother holding on to anything at all?

It wasn’t just the grief; it was the guilt.

He’d get mad at her, sometimes, for being sick. He’d slam his door and cry into his pillow because he just wanted a normal life, a mom who wasn’t always tired or in pain or hooked up to some machine.

He hated himself for that. 

The day of her funeral, he remembered everything, even though he wished he didn’t. The church smelled like old wood and lilies, that smell that never left you once it sank in.

People kept coming up to him, patting his shoulder, saying things like, “She’s in a better place now,” or “Stay strong, buddy.” 

He wanted to yell at them, shake them, make them shut up. She wasn’t in a better place. A better place would’ve been here, alive, laughing at his dumb jokes, or rolling her eyes at him for leaving his shoes in the hallway. It wouldn’t be six feet under, locked in a box, shoved into a hole in the ground like she never existed.

He didn’t cry, not when they opened the casket for everyone to say their final goodbyes, not when his dad stood up and choked through some half-assed speech that was mostly apologies and memories, not when they lowered her into the ground, the ropes creaking as her casket disappeared into the earth. 

He just stood there, hands in his pockets, staring straight ahead, as if he wasn’t even present. Inside, though?

His his chest was on fire. 

He refused to let even a single tear fall, it felt pointless, it wasn’t going to bring her back. It wasn’t going to fix anything. And deep down, he thought he didn’t deserve to cry, if he’d been stronger if he’d prayed harder, or been a better son, she’d still be alive.

The sound he remembered the most was the thud of dirt hitting the coffin after the service. It was final, loud, the earth itself mocking him. People around him sniffled, hugged each other, wiped at their eyes, but Rafe just stood there, staring down into the hole, fists buried in his pockets until his nails dug into his palms. 

He kept thinking about how wrong this all was, this wasn’t where she was supposed to end up, and none of this was fair.

She should’ve been there.

She should’ve been standing next to him, arm around his shoulder, telling him to stop slouching, whispering something to make him laugh in the middle of all this sadness. Instead, she was in there, soon the dirt would cover it up, and that’d be it. 

Gone. Just like that.

After the service, Rafe didn’t try to stick around for the house gathering, he wasn’t going to survive that. All those people crowding the living room, balancing paper plates of casserole, acting like they gave a fuck about his mom. It was fake, all of it. 

They’d forget about her in a week.

He slipped out when no one was paying attention, cutting through the side yard and heading to the only place that felt halfway normal—the old skate park behind the rec center. It was run-down as fuck, but he and his friends used to hang out there all the time, sitting on the busted ramps, talking trash, or just doing nothing.

When he got there, it was empty, which was exactly what he wanted. He climbed up on the old half-pipe, sitting cross-legged with his elbows on his knees, staring at the cracked pavement below. 

He couldn’t stop replaying the day in his head, the casket, the dirt, the stupid better place comments. His chest felt like it was breaking in a million tiny pieces, but he still couldn’t cry, his body just wouldn’t let him. 

Instead, he just sat there, wishing the world would leave him alone for five minutes.

That’s when he heard footsteps behind him.

He thought about running—didn’t need anyone seeing him like this, especially not now. But then you spoke.

“Figured I’d find you here.”

He didn’t look at you right away, just exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah? Well, congrats. You win the prize.” 

He wasn’t in the mood to be nice, even to you.

But you didn’t flinch, you never did. That’s one of the things he liked about you—you didn’t get scared off when he got like this. You just climbed up next to him and sat down. 

You didn’t try to say all that comforting bullshit people had been feeding him all day, and he was grateful for that.

“You okay?” you asked eventually.

He snorted. “Do I look okay?”

"Sorry, stupid question."

He sighed, hating that he was being asshole to his best friend, "It's fine."

When he finally glanced at you, you were watching him, trying to figure out what to say. It made him nervous, the way you looked at him. You always did that—you cared about what was going on in his head, you saw more than what he let people see.

“I’m not gonna sit here and pretend I know what you’re feeling,” you said finally. “But you don’t have to do this alone, Rafe. You know that, right?”

If only you knew what you would be going through just three short years later.

He wanted to snap at you, tell you to leave, he was fine, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he just stared down at the pavement again, “Feels like I do.”

You didn’t say anything, just moved closer, close enough that your arm brushed against his. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him feel…something, less alone.

Rafe didn’t know how long you both sat there, could’ve been ten minutes, could’ve been an hour. Time didn’t feel real anymore, you didn’t push him to talk, which he appreciated more than he’d ever admit, you didn’t throw out any of those awkward “it’ll get better” lines. You just sat with him. 

“You can talk to me, you know.” 

He shook his head without looking at you. “There’s nothing to say.” His voice was rough, flat. “She’s gone. That’s it.”

“You don’t have to pretend like it doesn’t suck."

He clenched his jaw, staring at the pavement like if he looked at you, everything would break.

“What’s the point?” he muttered. “Crying’s not gonna change anything. It’s not gonna—” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, trying to force it back.

“Rafe.” You sighed, and this time “You don’t have to hold it together for anyone, okay? It’s me.”

That broke him, actually broke him. His chest felt tight, suddenly he couldn’t keep it in.

His breath hitched, his shoulders shook, and before he knew it, tears were sliding down his face. He tried to stop it, to hide it, scrubbing his hands over his face, but it was no use.

“Shit,” he choked out, his voice cracking once more.

“Hey, hey,” you said quickly, and before he could pull away or do something stupid like tell you to leave, you scooted over.

He froze for a second, unsure what to do, but then he remembered the funeral, the whispers, the dirt hitting the casket, all the things he couldn’t stop thinking about—he just let it all out.

The first sob ripped out of him so suddenly it startled him, he hunched over, elbows on his knees, hands gripping his hair, as if he could physically stop himself from breaking. But it didn’t work.

Another sob followed, and then another, and soon they were pouring out of him—loud, messy, completely out of his control. He couldn’t stop it, and he hated it.

He leaned into you, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, and just cried. When he felt your arms instantly wrap around him, pulling him into a hug as if you’d been waiting for his permission, he shattered completely.

“She’s—” His voice caught in his throat, and he had to stop, gasping for air as the tears kept coming. “She’s gone. She’s gone, and I—” He broke off.

It was ugly and loud and nothing like how he’d pictured himself breaking down, but he didn’t care. You didn’t tell him it’d be okay or try to make him stop, just held him, your arms tight around him. 

“I miss her,” he whispered, his voice so small it barely sounded like him. “I miss her so much, and I—I don’t know what to do.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried like this, and part of him hated how exposed it made him feel. He hated crying in front of people—anyone. But right now, with you, he didn’t feel embarrassed. 

“I know,” you nodded, your hand moving in small circles on his back. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

“I—” he choked out, his voice breaking. “I can’t—this isn’t—it’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” you didn’t want to scare away the fragile pieces of him that were finally surfacing. “It’s not fair. None of it is.”

He couldn’t stop shaking or gasping for breaths that hitched in his chest. The more he tried to push it all backdown, the harder it fought to claw its way out. For years, he’d kept it buried—buried so deep he thought he’d never have to deal with it.

“I hate it,” he managed, the words tumbling out in a jagged mess. “I hate that she’s gone. I hate that I didn’t—” He stopped, gripping his hair harder. “I didn’t do enough. I should’ve been better, done something—anything.”

“Stop. You can’t do that to yourself.”

He shook his head violently, “But I did. I gave up on her. I stopped believing she’d get better, I—I got mad at her for being sick. What kind of son does that? I didn’t even say goodbye the way I should’ve. I just—I left the hospital because I couldn’t take it anymore, and then she—” His voice cracked again, and his hands dropped from his hair to his lap, clenched into fists “She’s gone, and I left. I wasn’t there when she—” His breath hitched, and he buried his face in his hands.

“You’re a kid. It’s not your fault, okay? None of this is.”

“But it feels like it is,” he shot back, “I should’ve done something, anything. I just feel so—” He stopped, letting out a shaky exhale. “Empty. Like nothing I do matters anymore.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The way you said it, so certain—He didn’t know why, but it cut through the noise in his head just enough to let him breathe again.

“I don’t know how to keep going,” he admitted, “I don’t know how t-to live without her.”

Growing up, Rafe had always been a momma’s boy. 

She was his safe place—the one person who didn’t make him feel like he had to be someone else. With her, he didn’t have to try so damn hard to be tough, or perfect, or whatever the hell his dad wanted him to be. 

Ward wasn’t the kind of dad who let his kids cry on his shoulder or told them he loved them every day. No, Ward was the kind of dad who believed in rules.

Men didn’t cry. Men didn’t show weakness. Men didn’t mess up—or, if they did, they sure as hell didn’t admit it.

He expected Rafe to follow those rules like they were gospel.

The worst part? His rules about what it meant to be a man stuck with Rafe, even when he didn’t want them to. When his mom got sick, he found himself choking back tears in the hospital bathroom, staring at his reflection and hearing Ward’s voice in his head: “Crying doesn’t solve anything. You’ve gotta be strong, for her, for your sisters.”

He had this idea in his head of what Rafe was supposed to be—strong, dependable, successful. He didn’t yell or lose his temper like some dads back then, he just made him feel like shit in this fucked up way.

Rafe tried, shit, he’d tried, but it felt impossible.

Every time he looked at his mom, pale and tired but still managing to smile at him like he was her whole world, he felt like he was dying too, then he’d feel guilty—for being so weak, for wanting to break down when she was the one fighting for her life.

It didn’t help that Ward had always had a soft spot for Sarah. Everyone could see it, even Rafe. She was the golden child, the one who could do no wrong, the one Ward went out of his way to protect. 

If Rafe screwed up, it was a lecture or a punishment, but if Sarah did? Ward would just shake his head and say, “She’s still young. She’ll learn.”

It used to piss him off more than he wanted to admit. It wasn’t that he hated her—she was his sister, and he loved her. But how could he not resent her? He felt invisible when she got all the attention and the understanding, while he was expected to man up and deal with it.

After her funeral, things changed.

Rafe became quicker to snap, to walk away from anything that felt too hard. He was only himself around you, behind closed doors, never for preying eyes. Sarah grew colder, retreating into her own world where everything was controlled and distant.

Every time they spoke, it ended in shouting matches, slamming doors, or long stretches of silence that neither of them attempted to solve.

Except when you were there.

Ward got even colder, the grief had frozen whatever part of him used to care. He threw himself into work, making sure Sarah was okay, and barely even looked at his son. When he did, it was usually to tell him to pull it together, or to stop being so “moody.”

Rafe started to wonder if he even cared that he was falling apart, if he ever noticed the nights Rafe stayed out too late or came home smelling like booze. If he saw the way he avoided talking to him, how he flinched whenever Ward brought up his mom. But if his dad noticed, he never said anything. 

He thought it was just Rafe being Rafe—angry, unpredictable, a disappointment.

Fast forward to the present, and he hadn’t felt this helpless since that day at the funeral, not even when Ward’s died four months ago. 

You weren’t in his life anymore—hadn’t been for a while and you were possibly pregnant. 

He wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but it made sense, everything lined up with that possibility. He thought back to everything you’d been through together, the times you’d been there for him when no one else was, how you’d seen the pieces of him no one else cared to.

Now, you were having his kid—and he was hearing about it from Topper?

Rafe spent the first hour after Topper dropped the news pacing his bedroom like a caged animal, his heart wouldn’t stop racing and he felt like a ticking time bomb. 

The Rafe—the one who flew off the handle, yelled, broke things, and pushed people away—was begging to get out. But Topper’s voice kept replaying in his head, he had to act right, be calm, for your sake. To prove himself.

The problem was, that staying calm wasn’t his strong suit. 

He’d spent years burying every emotion he couldn’t control under layers of anger, and now he was supposed to sit with the hurricane in his chest and figure out how to make things right. 

For the first time in a long time, he realized he didn’t even know where to start.

That night, he locked himself in his room, ignoring his phone, his friends, everyone. None of it mattered anymore, the only thing he could think about was you—and the baby. 

He spent hours pacing, running his hands through his hair, trying to think of what the fuck he was going to say.

What was he gonna say after everything he’d put you through? After the fight, the distance, the way he’d shut you out when you’d been nothing but good to him until that point?

He sat down on the edge of his bed, head still in his hands, and let himself feel everything he’d been avoiding. The fear, the regret, the anger at himself. He thought about you—how you used to look at him like he wasn’t just a mess of a person, you’d stuck by him even when he’d given you every reason to leave.

You weren’t here anymore.

He’d pushed you so far away you hadn’t even told him about the situation yourself. Why would you anyway? He ghosted you and the next time you saw him he was with someone else. He could still see the look on your face when you saw him that night—arms slung casually around Sofia, while you sat in your car, eyes wild, you hadn’t tried to step outside, hadn’t yelled or made a scene, you simply drove off. 

It wasn’t until an hour later and terrible text message to you, that drunk and pissed at himself, he realized just how badly he’d screwed up. But by then, the damage was done, and he’d been too much of a coward to fix it. What followed was a sea of bad decisions and nights he couldn’t remember, trying to drown out the ache of losing you. 

He’d been drinking for Ward’s death until that point, now he did it for you.

Everything was catching up to him—the way he let his dad’s voice in his head drown out his own, making him let you slip through his fingers.

He didn’t deserve you—he knew that.

By sunrise, Rafe was still wide awake, sitting on the floor of his room surrounded by half-crumpled pieces of paper. He’d been trying to write down what he wanted to say to you, but everything sounded wrong. He’d never been good with words, not the kind that mattered.

He wasn’t a dad, wasn’t even close to being the kind of guy who could be a dad. 

What the fuck did he know about raising a kid? Changing diapers? Teaching someone right from wrong? Being patient? But the thought of you—of you carrying his kid—hit him differently.

At first, it had been pure panic. You hated him, what if you didn’t want him involved? What if he was just like Ward—cold, distant, always expecting too much? What if he screwed the kid up the same way he felt like he’d been screwed up? 

He pictured it without meaning to: you holding a tiny bundle in your arms, your face soft in a way he hadn’t seen in so long. A kid with your smile, your laugh—but his eyes. Or his messy hair. It scared the shit out of him.

What if she doesn’t even want to keep it?

Rafe hadn’t let himself go there at first, it was a lot to wrap his head around, the idea that there might not even be a child to fight for. 

The thought of you going through this, struggling to make a choice that he couldn’t help with, made him feel useless. 

Frustrated, he grabbed his keys and headed out, needing to clear his head. The island was silent this early, the kind of calm that used to make him feel trapped, but now, though, it was a relief. He drove aimlessly for a while, the salty air whipping through the open windows, until he found himself parked at the beach.

He didn’t know why he’d come here—well, you’d always bring him here when he spiraled. He sat there, watching the waves crash against the shore, feeling a weird sort of clarity that he hadn’t felt in months. 

Perhaps it was the silence, or the way the ocean didn’t care about all the fucking mess in his head, but something about it made him stop spiraling for a second.

He started to think about what Topper had said—not just about staying calm, but about proving to you that he still cared. That wasn’t something he could do with words alone, not after everything. He’d have to show you, he’d have to be the version of himself you used to believe in, the one who wasn’t ruled by his worst impulses.

Rafe knew the first step before he could even think about talking to you: he had to end things with Sofia. They weren’t official, but they might as well have been. 

People talked, made assumptions, and sure, he’d let them. It was easier that way—less explaining, less having to deal with the uncomfortable truth that he’d only been with her to fill the empty space you left behind. It was cruel, but at the time, he hadn’t cared. 

Sofia wasn’t you, but she was there, and more importantly, she didn’t expect anything from him. Keeping things going with her wasn’t just a bad idea; it was disrespectful. To you, to her, to himself. He couldn’t pretend he cared about her like that—not when his heart had never really left your orbit.

When he showed up at her place that morning before work, she didn’t seem surprised—not even a little. She’d seen the writing on the wall for weeks now, but tonight, seeing him standing there, just confirmed what she already knew.

She watched him like she was waiting for him to get to the point, but not impatiently—just resigned, she already knew what he was about to say.

“Can I come in?” 

She let him in without a word, she wasn’t mad, not really. If anything, she felt sad—mostly for him, a little for herself. How the fuck was he supposed to explain this without sounding like the worst person alive?

“You okay?” she asked quietly, she wasn’t being polite—she was trying to read him, figure out where this was going.

Rafe didn’t sit, didn’t take off his jacket. He stayed standing, hands shoved deep in his pockets, trying to find the words that wouldn’t make this worse. “I—” He cleared his throat. “I need to talk to you about something. 

She raised an eyebrow, her lips pressing together in a tight line. “Be honest.”

“This...this isn’t fair to you,” he started, his words tumbling out fast, “I should’ve been real with you from the start, but I wasn't," He swallowed hard, “You deserve better than me using you to forget someone else.”

Sofia didn’t say anything at first, just crossed her arms loosely, not making it easy for him, but she wasn’t making it harder, either.

“I shouldn’t have dragged you into this,” he continued, forcing himself to look at her. “It feels wrong and it’s not because of you. You’re great. You’ve been...you’ve been more patient with me than I deserve.”

Her lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile, one that wasn’t quite happy but wasn’t cruel either. “But you’re still in love with her.”

He didn’t know why it shocked him—Sofia had always been perceptive—but hearing her say it out loud made it real in a way it hadn’t been before.

“I—” He hesitated, but there was no point in denying it. “Yeah.”

“I knew,” She nodded like she’d been waiting for that confirmation. “I figured. I told myself it didn’t matter because—because I thought maybe you’d move on. Maybe I could help you move on. But you didn’t, and I—” She pressed her lips together, shaking her head as her arms tightened around herself.

Rafe’s brows furrowed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shrugged, the movement almost casual. 

“Because I really like you,” she admitted, “I knew. The party? When you got blackout drunk after seeing her leave? Or the country club, when you nearly started a fight defending her? I know you drove her to the hospital too. I kept hoping—God, I kept hoping you’d see me, that you’d let me be enough.”

He’d known she cared—he wasn’t blind—but hearing her saying like that made him realize just how he fucked up. She wasn’t wrong. He had been trying to numb himself, to drown out the reality of losing you, and she had been the collateral damage.

He looked away, guilt twisting in his chest. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this. That wasn’t fair to you.”

“No,” she agreed, her tone firm but not unkind. “It wasn’t, but I don’t think you meant to hurt me either, you were trying to hurt yourself. It's still stupid of me to try, knowing you need to figure your shit out, but you don’t have to end things. I know what I signed up for, Rafe. I’m not asking you to choose me over her—I’m just asking you to try."

There was no anger in her voice, no bitterness—just exhaustion. It made him feel like a piece of shit because she deserved to feel angry, to lash out at him. But instead, she was still trying to give him a way out, a way to make this easier on himself.

“I’ll take whatever part of you I can get.”

It wasn’t desperate or pleading—it was resigned. She already knew the answer, but she couldn’t help saying it out loud.

Rafe shook his head, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his composure. “No,” he said, his voice firm. “You deserve someone who can give you everything. That’s not me.”

“Why not?” she pressed, her tone insistent.

“Because all of me already belongs to her,” Rafe admitted, his voice breaking at the end. “It always has, it always will.”

Sofia blinked, her lips parting slightly in surprise, but she didn’t look hurt—just...sad. She nodded slowly, her shoulders dropping in defeat.

“I hope she knows what she has, and I pray you show her," She stood up and motioning toward the door. “We both deserve better than a guy who drinks himself to death after seeing her at a party. So do you.”

Rafe didn’t move right away, unsure if he should say something more, apologize again, explain himself better. 

“Thank you,” he said finally, his voice quieter than he meant it to be.

“Don’t thank me,” she replied, “Just do better.”

“I shouldn’t have let it go on this long,” he confessed, “I just—I didn’t know how to stop.”

Her expression softened just enough to show the tiniest sliver of empathy. “For what is worth, I think she still loves you too, even if she hates you more right now.” She paused, her hand resting on the doorknob, but she didn’t turn around, “Next time, please don’t do this to someone else, and don’t do it to her again, either.”

She still loves you too, even if she hates you more right now. He wanted to believe it, needed to believe it. The faint possibility, that you might still love him, it meant he had a chance but it also meant he could screw them up even worse.

He stood slowly, “Thank you,” he repeated,“For...everything.”

She didn’t look at him, but she nodded, opening the door and holding it for him. “Take care of yourself,” she said, and it wasn’t cold or angry—just sad.

By the time he got back to his car, he knew she wasn’t wrong, about any of it. 

She hadn’t screamed or cried or made him feel like the asshole he knew he was, that made it worse. If his mom was here, she would’ve smacked him across he head for hurting two amazing women at the same time. 

He hadn’t been ready to deal with his feelings for you—not when he started whatever the fuck it was with Sofia, not when he ran into you at that party, not when he defended you at the country club.

He’d been running, hiding, trying to bury everything under distractions that only made him feel emptier.

He leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes, and for a moment, it was like he was fourteen again, sitting on the edge of his mom’s hospital bed while his mom teased him.

“Come on, sweetheart” she’d said, her voice playful, even through the weariness. “You’ve been talking about her birthday for weeks. I think you like her more than you’re letting on.”

Rafe’s head shot up, and his ears burned red. “Mooomm,” he groaned, dragging out the word, “it’s not like that, she’s my best friend.”

“She’s your pretty best friend,” she’d corrected, smiling at him in that knowing way only she could. “You’re gonna pick out something nice for her, right?”

“I already did,” he mumbled, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket and holding it out like it was some great secret. Inside was a delicate bracelet he’d saved up for, something special, something he thought you’d like.

His mom’s smile had softened, the teasing fading into something more tender. 

“She’s lucky to have you,” she’d said, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Even if you are a little knucklehead sometimes.”

He’d ducked away, embarrassed but secretly pleased, tucking the box back into his pocket.

“M’m not a knucklehead,” he complained, but she just laughed, and it was one of the last times he remembered hearing her laugh like that—free, unburdened, just his mom.

“She’s a good one. You’ve got good taste.” Her smile softened, and the teasing faded into something gentler. “I hope I’m still around when you get married. I’d love to see you happy like that.”

The words were a punch he hadn’t expected. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. What could he even say to that? He wanted to argue, to tell her she would be, but the look in her eyes stopped him.

She knew. She always knew.

He just nodded, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood. “Me too.”

She squeezed his hand. “Promise me something?”

“Anything,” he said without thinking because he meant it.

“When you find that person—really find them—don’t let them go. Not for anything.”

He nodded again.

Years later, standing in a stupid fucking car alone, those words haunted him. He’d found that person, he’d had her and he’d let her go.

“God,” he muttered, the self-loathing reaching a new high, “I’m so sorry, mom.”

As terrifying as it was to think about being a dad, to think about raising a kid when he was still trying to figure out his own life… the idea of losing this chance—of losing you, or the baby, or both, for good —scared him even more.

For the first time in a long time, Rafe Cameron felt something close to hope, but it was tainted in so much fear and uncertainty, that he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

The rest of the day, he forced himself to slow down. 

He went back home, cleaned up the disaster of a room he’d been holed up in, and tried to think like a normal guy instead of a walking disaster. He even let Topper come over, though his patience for his relentless commentary wore thin fast.

“You’ve got one shot at this, dude,” Topper said, perched on Rafe’s desk like he owned the place. “If you go in there guns blazing, she’s just gonna think you’re the same old Rafe. And honestly? You can’t blame her.”

Rafe rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue, Topper was right, as annoying as it was to admit.

He spent the evening coming up with a plan—just enough to make sure he didn’t go in blind. He practiced what he’d say in his head, pacing the kitchen while the sun sank below the horizon. Every time he started to panic, he forced himself to breathe, to remember why he was doing this.

By the time 24 hours had passed, he didn’t feel ready, but he knew he couldn’t wait any longer. The thought of you sitting somewhere, thinking he really didn’t care or that he wouldn’t step up?

That was worse than any fear he had about facing you. So he grabbed his keys, and headed out, this time, he wasn’t running away.

Rafe stood by your door, he’d gotten in the property using the gate’s code, one he’d hoped you had changed to keep him out, but you hadn’t.

He’d never been good at patience, never needed to be—not when he could push his way into anything. But this was different, you were different, always had been.

The wood under his hand was cool, in a way that pissed him off because it reminded him that there was a barrier between you and him, again, always.

He wanted to scream, kick the fucking thing down like the old Rafe would’ve, or instead use the keys you’d given him years ago. Instead, he stood there, swallowing his pride because you were worth it, even if it was tearing himself in half.

His knuckles dragged down the frame, fist clenching as if the pressure would ground him, keep him from losing his shit. He wasn’t here to fight, wasn’t here to make your life harder, no matter how much you thought he was. 

The door rattled slightly when he pressed his forehead against it, eyes squeezing shut. “Five minutes. Please.”

Nothing.

His jaw worked, teeth grinding against the words he wanted to say but couldn’t, not if he wanted you to open the door. He couldn’t do this anymore—the back-and-forth, the lies. He wasn’t sure what broke first—your resolve or the knot in his throat. 

When you didn’t answer again, he sank to sit on the porch, back against the door like he could still feel you on the other side. You were there—close enough to touch if there wasn’t this fucking door between you.

That was his fault.

He used to be the guy you’d let in without thinking twice, shit, there was a time when he didn’t need to knock.

He was in, part of your life, part of you.

Now, you were holed up, scared of him. Yeah, that ate him alive. He’d earned that fear—every cold shoulder, the slammed door, he deserved it.

He should’ve been different, been better, been someone you didn’t have to lock out. You were scared, and it killed him because it wasn’t just fear, it was him. He was the reason you didn’t feel safe enough to let the secret out, the reason your voice cracked when you told him to leave.

He had put that look in your eyes, the one he couldn’t unsee, no matter how hard he tried.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

He could almost hear you breathing, shakily, like you were preparing yourself to outlast him.

He wanted to push. Fuck, he wanted to shove the door open, make you look at him, make you tell him everything—but that was the old Rafe, he took what he wanted, and bulldozed through whatever stood in his way.

Where had that ever gotten him? Nowhere but here: on the wrong side of a door, the wrong side of you.

He exhaled, long and slow, hand falling limp to his side.

What the hell was he doing? Forcing his way in, forcing answers—that wasn’t going to fix this. It never did. You’d push harder, build the walls higher, and he couldn’t stomach the idea of you hating him more than you already did.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice strained. “I get it.”

He didn’t know if you could still hear him, perhaps you were blocking him out completely. Maybe you were curled up with your hands over your ears. He hoped you weren’t crying, though the thought twisted and turned something deep in him.

“I’m not gonna push you,” he said, hating how defeated he sounded. “You don’t owe me anything.”

He ran a hand down his face, swallowing hard, trying to keep it together.

“I just... I just want you to be okay.” He hesitated, then pressed his palm flat against the door, wishing he could reach you somehow, without scaring you, “Baby or not.”

He waited, hoping for something—a sound, a movement, anything, but the silence was absolute.

His heart clenched as he pushed off the door and took a step back, his shoes scraping against the porch. He didn’t want to leave, he never wanted to leave, but this wasn’t about what he wanted. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, almost to himself, "I'm so sorry. I’m sorry it took me this long, okay?”

He stopped halfway, looking back, hoping—praying—for some sign. A light flicking on, the sound of the door creaking open, your voice calling his name, anything.

But the house stayed still, it had already moved on from him. 

He didn’t remember deciding to drive to Poguelandia; he felt it in his gut, in the pit of his chest, this pounding certainty that Sarah knew something he didn’t. You wouldn’t tell him—but Sarah? You’d chosen her to drive you home from the hospital just a few days ago.

She was the only person that could lie to his face properly, he couldn’t fucking figure her out, she was always deflecting shit wherever they talked.

By the time he pulled up to the pogues’ little hideaway, the sky had darkened, the place lit only by the glow of string lights and the hum of voices inside. He sat in the truck for a second, staring at the house, willing himself to calm down.

Barging in—loud, pissed, impulsive—wasn’t going to get him what he needed. But fuck, it was hard not to.

He climbed out, slamming the door behind him with just enough force to feel better for half a second. The screen door creaked as he stepped up to the porch, and he could already hear them inside—Sarah’s laugh, JJ cracking some dumbass joke, the rest of them chiming in like they didn’t have a care in the world.

He hated this, hated how they all looked at him, as if he was some ticking time bomb ready to explode. They weren’t wrong.

Rafe knocked, hard and sharp, the laughter inside cut off instantly. Footsteps approached the door, hesitant. A second later, it swung open, and there she was, his sister, looking at him like he was the last person she wanted to see.

“Rafe,” she said, one hand still gripping the door. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “We need to talk.”

Her brows pulled together, suspicion creeping into her expression. “Now? Seriously?”

“Yeah, now,” he snapped, stepping closer, his voice low enough to keep from drawing the others’ attention. “Don’t make me say it in front of them.”

She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder toward the voices in the living room. “Rafe, I don’t think—”

“Don’t,” he cut her off, his tone sharper than he meant. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to soften, to keep it together. “I need you to tell me the truth.”

She glanced back again, then sighed, stepping out onto the porch and closing the door behind her. He was already pacing, hands twitching at his sides, hardly able to contain the energy inside him. 

The way she looked at him—wary, guarded—only made it worse.

“What the hell is your problem?” she asked, crossing her arms, like she was already bracing for a fight.

“My problem?” he barked out a laugh, sharp. “You really wanna play dumb right now? You’ve been keeping something from me, Sarah. I know you have.”

Her brows knit together, feigning confusion, “Dude. What’s this about? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit,” he hissed, stepping closer, “Don’t lie to me. I already know, okay? I know about the baby.”

She didn’t say a word, didn’t confirm a thing, just stared at him like he was some wild animal.

“Where did you get the idea that she’s pregnant?”

His mouth opened, then closed. It felt wrong to snitch on Topper when he’d been one making him pry a little more.

“Well?” she pressed, “Answer me. How did you come up with that?”

Saying it out loud felt like admitting he’d been just as reckless and intrusive as everyone expected him to be. His hand ran over his face, trying to stall.

“I didn’t just make it up.”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed, her patience waning. “No shit. So where, Rafe?”

He glanced away, then back, his voice defensive. “Topper said something, okay? He heard—he thought—” Rafe stopped, knowing how weak it sounded.

 “Topper? You’re taking life advice from Topper now?”

“He didn’t mean anything by it!” Rafe was quick to defend him, “He just... he mentioned some things, and it got me thinking. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Sarah repeated, “You barged over there because Topper mentioned ‘some things’ ? Jesus Christ.”

His hands flew up in frustration. “What was I supposed to do? Pretend I didn’t hear it? Ignore it and hope it went away? I needed to know!”

“No, you didn’t,” Sarah shot back. “You wanted to know. There’s a difference, and it’s the difference that keeps getting you into this shit.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Rafe pointed a finger in his direction, “Like I’m crazy or something. I’m not stupid.”

"You’re just not worth the energy right now."

Instead of crying like he wanted to, he let out a dry laugh, pacing back and forth in front of her.

"Right. Sure. I can see it all over you, just say it."

She shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. "You don’t know what you’re talking about. Neither does Topper.”

“Stop lying!” His voice rose, loud enough to echo into the dark yard. “Just stop. You know something.”

Sarah’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, Rafe thought he’d finally cracked her. Except instead of giving him what he wanted, she just let out a slow breath, meeting his eyes with a steadiness that made him feel like a child fighting for his favorite toy.

“You want to know the truth?” 

“Yes,” he bit out, his chest heaving.

She stepped forward so they were only inches apart. “The truth is, you don’t deserve to know. Not yet.”

Everyone kept telling him the same thing, couldn’t they see he was already trying?

He staggered back a step. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means, that whatever you’re looking for, whatever answers you think you deserve, they’re not yours to take. Not until you can handle them without breaking everything you touch."

He flinched, her words striking something inside him, “You don’t get to decide that for me,” he said, almost desperate.

“I’m not deciding anything,” she replied, her eyes never leaving his. “You’ve spent these last few months making everything about you. Your pain, your anger, your needs.”

He glanced away, “So, what? You don’t trust me?”

Her silence was louder than anything she could have said.

“You don’t,” he murmured, the realization bitter in his mouth.

"I don’t," she agreed, “You’re still not the person she needs you to be, and until you can prove you can do that—without me, without anyone holding your hand—you’re better off not knowing.”

“I’m trying. I swear to fucking God, I’m trying. I don’t know how to fix it.”

“She’s scared you’re going to hurt her again—whether you mean to or not. You’re dating someone else, for god’s sake.”

“I ended it. This morning.”

Sarah’s eyebrows lifted slightly, “Doesn’t change the past, Rafe. And it sure as hell doesn’t make everything better overnight.”

Rafe flinched, the words sinking into him like stones. "Why the fuck do you think I’m here? I don’t want to hurt her—I can’t do anything if she won’t even talk to me."

Topper still had that number. 

You hadn’t hidden it well enough, he hadn’t done anything with it, but it was tempting. All he had to do was call, just to confirm, he told himself. Not to pry, simply to know for sure.

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. This isn’t something you can force your way into. She would never forgive you, please be smart.”

His first instinct was to lash out, fire back some venom-laced retort that would sting as much as her tone. He nodded, swallowing hard.

“Okay,” He dragged a hand through his head, “I know that, I know. But I can’t just sit here, doing nothing. I need to... I need to show her I can do better. That I am better.”

“You need to crawl through hell to understand a fraction of what she’s going through; you need to stop thinking about what you want and start thinking about her.”

His hands fell to his sides, limp, the fight suck out of him. She was right—he hated that she was. This wasn’t about him anymore; it never had been.

 “What can I do?”

Her expression softened, not with forgiveness but something sadder—she wanted to believe he could. “You start by fixing yourself, then you wait. Until she’s ready, if she’s ready. You’ve got to mean that, Rafe, you screw this up again..."

"I won’t," he said firmly, cutting her off. "I can’t."

“Okay.”

“What if she’s not ready?”

He had no right to demand more.

“You keep going, keep trying. Not for her, not for anyone else—just for you.”

By the time he got back in his truck, the hurt in his body hadn’t lifted. His mom’s words echoed in his mind one more, “When you find that person, don’t let them go. Not for anything.”

Maybe that started with learning to be the person who deserved to hold on.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige

@rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron

@serrendiipty @sunny1616 @yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog

@psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[kyri45]

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 29/10✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

@xyuki-iris ha chiesto: I LOVE YOU'RE ART ALSO GOOD FOOD But I have a what if What if Redson found Mk having a panic attack over something serious about him being Trans.

Ouch poor baby Red Son would totally support MK and try to calm him down

@ashmeertheimp ha chiesto: First of all your story is glorious and congrats on getting lmk at the very top. Second does Mk want to work on his relationship with Nuwa. I think Nuwa did truly love Mk but she also loved everyone else on earth equally. Mk has forgiven Mac who actually made an effort to hurt Mk (past mistakes) while Nuwa was opposed but still didn't stop Mk from not fixing the pillar of heaven.

I always felt like after S5 his relationship with Nuwa is similar to the one Steven had with Rose after S5 of SU. So it's- complicated

@audioandart ha chiesto: mayhaps a silly question, but towards the very start of the mk shadow peach stuff when mk first shadows into the wall. He says "why is everything *more* flat". Is this implying he already sees the world as 2d the way we do or am I perhaps missing something? 😅 (I love your work! Have a good day 🫰)

ahah yeah I was!!

@fake-anjel ha chiesto: Your comic makes me stay awake at night thinking of the next cap, making theories and making imaginary scenarios and imaginary gacha reactions to them for some reason. I was wondering... If Wukong and Macaque have a child (hypothetically, and by the biological way) wich one would be the oven for the bun? You have a fan from Brazil<3

Well, I would say Wukong, but here comes the question: a Stone Monkey, born from a stone, would be able to reproduce themself? There are no other like the four celestial primates and MK, so I would assume that they weren't able to- reproduce normally. Also if they would does it mean the womb is a stone as well???

@sollythesalt ha chiesto: Just asking if Wukong is trans do his female organs also count as part of his un-glamored form or does he stay with his male ones when he drops his glamour? Also what does his glamour include in your au just out of curiosity?

No under the glamour and shapeshift he still has female organs

@dandy-doodles ha chiesto: I'm VICIOUSLY consuming your comic rn - It actually came across my feed from a reblog. Never watched the show before. Loved the comic so much I binged the entire series and now I'm sat with the task of reading JTTW. This hyperfixation is your fault I love you for it. @ivoronical ha chiesto: Hi! I don’t know how tumblrs asks work because I’ve never used them before, but just wanted to say that your art is ✨fabulous✨ and you’re shadowpeach bio parents au has convinced me to rewatch the show entirely. It’s also made Macaque one of my favorite characters and because of that I am halfway through making a cosplay of him completely from scratch and I’m very excited to finish it:) Anyways I’ve rambled enough. Have a nice day!!! @starzz-twi ha chiesto: Can I just say how much I adore your art! It inspires so much that I might try drawing lmk again 🫶🫶🫶🫶 @artemismoorea03 ha chiesto: I hope you know that your Bio Parents AU fills every waking moment. I swear I only get on Tumblr anymore to see if you've posted something. I eat up any art you post regardless of what fandom it is and I just have to tell you that your art tastes like a blue raspberry icee (the best kind). I hope you're having a fantastic day ♡

AWWW TYSM TO ALL OF YOU!!!!

@sakuralotus03 ha chiesto: What will family gatherings be like now that MK has 4 parents? Like his birthday or end-of-year celebrations. I want to see more of the dynamics of the 4 parents interacting and talking about their one and only child.🐷🤓☀️🌙

oH CHAOTIC INDEED

Anonimo ha chiesto: How does it feel to be one of those artists that like 70% of the fandom knows about

wait is that a random number or???

Anonimo ha chiesto: Will we maybe see Macaque interact with Bai He or Mei?? (I'm starved of DarkHorse/EnderDragon/NightFlare Duo and Raspberry/Black Cat Duo) But I am interested if you might make them interact! :D Anyways, I love how your art got better by each comic, you can see the improvement from the slight sharpness of the shapes in the first comics and the now softer lines.

mmmmm I will maybe I'll do some small scenes

Anonimo ha chiesto: Past Wukong working out: I'ma get so strong. Ain't no one beating me Present Wukong working out: I'ma be so good at hugging my son and husband.

AWWWWWW WHAT A GOOD BABA!

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hello! I wanted to ask if we'll see just how sensitive Macaque's hearing is in your Au in a future comic maybe? Like... a thunderstorm happens or something when he's around FFM watching Mk and Wukong train or something that affects his hearing badly? But either way, love your art and style! :)

mmmm don't know if I have a scene planned for that...

Anonimo ha chiesto: Does Wukong and Macaque know about the other 2 Celstial Primates, Red-Hoarse Baboon and Lomg-Armed Gibbon, in your Bio Shadowpeach parents au?

I think so? In JTTW he knew so I would assume the same?

Anonimo ha chiesto: Will Macaque use his future vision at any time again in this comic? We now know in this Au he hasn't used it in years. But maybe will he use it again soon? I bet he won't but I still wanted to ask :)

not unless he is forced to

Anonimo ha chiesto: I’ve been listening to a song from a Pokémon movie: Always Safe by Cynthia, and I think of the Shadowpeach bioparents Au everytime

AWW that's beautiful the lyrics omg!!!

@notjustonefandom1 ha chiesto: So, I've been thinking about MK's staff. After he got it do you think he develops a habit of clasping his hands together, especiallywhen stressed or threatened? With the fluidity and energy he moves with, I think it would take a while for him yo find a chance to Summon the staff, especially if he isn't fast at it yet, so he just starts keeping his hands pressed together in preparation.

ooooohhh that's a cool idea!

Anonimo ha chiesto: Where does the Macaque has white fur head canon come from? I'm new to this fandom and I'm still learning things and I see it everywhere

I honestly have no idea but I guess either because Japanese Macaque are white furred or bc he died.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Ok so this may be a sensitive topic and definitely doesn't need to be answered so TW Did mk ever go through a depression thing after trying to die to save the universe in the last season in your au? A in like what if Wukong and Mac find out he used to SH?

hish. I'm not probably the right person to answer this. Probably he did had depression tendencies but didn't recognize them until someone pointed them out.

Anonimo ha chiesto: This ask os Going to be a little weird But Can I See Macaque Pining Wukong on the wall?In a Flirty way?(pretty Please?) I love Your Art so much!👑❤️‍🔥💎

Ouh.. *cleans forehead from sweat* is getting hot in here... maybe?

@autism-autobot ha chiesto: Wukong: OH BUDDHA, HE CALLED ME BABA!!!!! (SCREAMS WITH JOY) What DBK heard over the phone with his brother: OH andhdbrjjsm (feral monkey screeching)

Poor DBK gotta deal with the gossip now

@alastair-1205 ha chiesto: OMG THE MOST RECENT PART IM CRYING But I also love how Mac's first instinct is just grabbing Wukong and being like: "get out of hearing range before we freak out, get out of hearing range before we freak out, get out of-" you know? It's very funny but also builds on past comics since they woke MK up last time smth like this happened and I'm just !!!!!

GOTTA MAKE THE BABY SLEEP

@eerieqloss ha chiesto: OSISJJWJSJSJWWN OKAY WAIT SO IS MK GONNA START CALLING THEM MAMA AND BABA INSTEAD OF THEIR NAMES CONTINUALLY OR WAS IT JUST THAT ONE TIME

It wont be a one time!

Anonimo ha chiesto: I hope you are resting as you should Always remember to take your time, rest first, then work, ofc as far as possible 😅. I have a fun question (if you have the time ofc 👉🏻👈🏻): will we see Feral MK again? But you know, like another kind of "demonic learning" that maybe wukong or Mac will teach him to control or see that it's not bad as it looks

For now i want my baby to either be happy or traumatized not angry.

Anonimo ha chiesto: I feel like i remember you asking about happier shadowpeach songs for your playlist, but I can't find the post anymore. But if you're still looking, Livingston's new song Glow reminds me of them and also made me think about the eclipse scenes in the comic.

Several of Livingston's other songs also give me shadowpeach vibes, but I think about them so much that I might just be seeing them everywhere at this point.

Oooh true a lot of his song fits really well!!

Anonimo ha chiesto: This is the only instance where having a kid really did bring a couple together.

TRUE LMAO

Anonimo ha chiesto: Soo...Wukong and Mac in the DBK Palace I have a question in my mind!!!! Actually I hope you to see it and draw it.. if you don't wanna it's okay! What if DBK & PIF flirt with each other or smt like this u know in front of shadowpeach?! They will probably look to each other and then blushing hard

HAHAHHA poor souls they would totally think of wanting to kiss each other but can't because they are emotionally constipated.

[0mg-bird]

hii! i lovedd 'lover's rock' sososo much and would absolutely love if you'd write more about that reader & spencer's relationship! maybe the way it develops or their dynamic when they are like 100% official? anything'll do but the way you wrote reader is so unbelievably me i was absolutely eating it upp!!! i love you & your writing!

Hiiiii!!! Thank u sm !!! Lover’s Rock got so much love, here’s a part two!

My Spencer Reid requests are open!

Everybody Loves Somebody ~ S. Reid

Part II of Lover’s Rock

Spencer!Reid x Fem!Twee!Reader

Warnings: 18+ content, brief smut, reader gets wine drunk with BAU women. Reid being dirty, reader being dirty. Idiots in love, omg so cute, season 6/ 7 Reid is soooooo boyfriend. Morgan thinks Reid’s gone crazy. Um yeah okay enjoy

86% of Americans believe in true love, but only 67% of them say they’ve experienced it. That’s a statistic Spencer told you once.

How lucky you are to be apart of that 67%.

How lucky you are that you didn’t settle, that you waited painfully long for it to feel right, because it feels so right.

Ever since that everything but casual hookup, it was like a stone that was always supposed to be in motion, finally started rolling. Spencer took you to dinner, a nice Italian hole in the wall because you mentioned a love of pasta, then he started to call at the end of the day just to talk, and a second date became of that. It’s like he blinked and all of a sudden you two were spending all of his free time together, watching movies, his hand in yours as you dragged him to record stores.

He seriously thinks that in the moments you’re half dressed in his bed, rambling on and on about something you think is important enough to talk about until you practically pass out, that it’s all a dream and he’ll wake up alone come daybreak.

It never happens though, he wakes and you’re curled into his ribcage like that’s where you belong.

You do, he determines.

So three months of this honeymoon dance, the words ‘I love you’ come out unexpectedly in one of Spencer’s ramblings as the breeze blows in, feeling awfully like the winter that’s coming soon. You were bundled up beside him, hand in his like it always is as he tells you about work and how Morgan is always after him about the ‘scandalous love affair’ he’s having with ‘bar room girl’. Aka you.

“They ask so many questions, it’s unbelievable the lack of privacy I have. You know what he told me?” He had asked, which you answered with “What did he tell you, handsome?” before he continued.

“He seriously asked me if I was keeping my options open just in case you turned out to be crazy, clearly he had to be joking because there are no other options. Not that I would want another option! I wouldn’t, you’re the option I’ll stick with- no not an option just, well, you’re you and I love you so I don’t really care if you turn out crazy. I’d see the signs by now anyway.”

You stopped your stride, looking up at him with wide eyes and a wide grin.

“What?” You question.

“Well I’ve been with you long enough to learn your habits and if you were crazy then-”

“No.” You stop him. “You love me?”

He faces you, realizing he had just said it. But even if he wanted to try and back track, he couldn’t, he’s smiling too wide.

“Yeah, I do. I love you.”

“Good. I love you too.” You say, watching your words click in his brain and immediately his hands are cupping your face and he’s kissing you in the middle of the sidewalk, leaning over you as you laugh against his lips. Spencer doesn’t do PDA, or so he thought until he learned that it’s sometimes the only way you’ll understand his feelings and how he can’t put them into words.

You adore the sporadic behavior, getting kissed on sidewalks and trains and movie theater seats and anywhere else he thinks you’re far too beautiful in.

That’s what life has been like for six months together, madly and truly and deeply in love, deeply intimate in every word and touch and action. He goes to work and you’re the thought in the back of his mind as he crakes cases, you teach students and find yourself smiling at any free moment you have to think of when you’re going to see him next.

Now, the team has noticed the shift in their beloved Dr Reid, how he didn’t go out with them like he used to, how he spent a lot more time texting, how he’d casually mention you, but Spencer was a selfish man who wanted you to be something of only his. He shared his whole life with his team and even if they were his family, he took pride in knowing he had an escape they didn’t, which was you.

If the world got too much, you were there with your quirky outfits and strawberry lipstick to stain his cheek. You were his fix. Screw drugs, he had your laugh engraved in his head and that was far better than a needle.

That being said, there were times he was feigning, going through withdrawal all over again when he was gone for too long.

Like now. When he’s been everywhere but where you are for a week and three days just because he had back to back conferences and then fell right into a case.

He was tired and drained and felt a migraine coming on, painfully antisocial as he leaned back in the seat in the jet. Momentarily, he takes a second to breathe, then immediately digs his phone from his pocket and messages you.

He knows that you’re probably just getting home from the school day, that you’re probably sitting down at your desk to grade papers or work out lesson plans. He’s learned your routine in and out, it might be a little stalker-ish if he really thinks about it, so many cases has he worked where the unsub knows where a girl is at 4:30pm.

He’s no unsub, he just loves you enough to know everything about you.

Morgan, nosy like always, notices the way Spencer softly smiles at his phone.

“What are you grinning at, lover boy?” He asks, watching the way Spencer’s expression quickly shifts.

“Nothing.” He states, putting his phone away.

Morgan smirks. “Oh don’t be coy with me, we all know you’re dying to get home to that girl of yours.”

Spencer’s brows furrow, he opens his mouth to deny but the words don’t come. So he gives into it instead.

“So what if I am?” He questions, making Morgan- and Emily who is now paying attention- laugh.

“Aw, Reid, you’re all twitter-patted.” The dark haired agent says in a sweet tone.

Spencer presses his lips together and looks away.

“He’s not even trying to deny it.” Morgan tries to jab.

Only Spencer just shrugs. “Why would I try to deny it? I’m in love with her.”

The two widen their eyes.

“That’s a big word to use.” Emily hums.

“It’s a big feeling to have.” Spencer states. “You know, I’m used to feeling like I’m slowly going crazy everyday but ever since I met her, I don’t really feel it as intensely. It’s all the chemicals released in my brain I think, the dopamine and oxytocin over powers anxiety. Maybe it’s a placebo effect or something but I’ve never felt better than I do with her, so in short words, she’s cured me.”

For a moment, the two are at a loss for words, staring at their friend. It’s no negative thoughts they have, because they are overjoyed that their nerdy, awkward sidekick has finally found a match.

“I’m happy for you, Reid.” Emily smiles. “Sounds like she’s a good fit.”

Spencer, who could never speak ill about you, nods. “She’s probably the only one out there for me so yeah, she’s a good fit.”

“And you have me to thank for having her.” Morgan smirks. “Without me, you wouldn’t have approached her at the bar, you would’ve sat with your nose in that book and died alone.”

“Wow. Very encouraging.” Spencer says dryly.

“I want to meet her. I’m sure the whole team does.” Emily says, changing the subject.

“What’s that?” JJ adds in.

“Reid’s gonna introduce us to the girl who makes him leave the office at a decent hour.” Emily states before he can protest.

You aren’t going to like this idea, but the team is all talking about it like it’s the biggest news ever. He’d get you to settle and agree somehow, just so Morgan will finally see why he is so infatuated with you.

Besides, Rossi is already planning a night at his mansion for the team just so Spencer can bring you along.

- - - -

You completely lose track of the time as you continue to prepare dinner in his apartment, adding homemade sauce to pasta, cutting up seasoned chicken.

That’s probably why you don’t realize Spencer is home until he’s shutting and locking the door behind him.

He smiles in surprise as he sees you, dancing around his kitchen, hair clipped up in a messy updo, knee socks sliding around the floor.

“Hey.” He speaks, causing you to startle and flip around to face him.

Immediately, you’re joyous.

“Spence! Hi!” You rush to him.

He’s never been greeted so warmly until you, and now he can’t have anything different.

His arms encircle your waist as you clumsily throw your arms around his neck. The first words out of your mouth are ones he had never heard that often before you.

“I missed you.” You say, hugging him tight.

He pressed his nose to your hair, soothed by your citrusy shampoo. “I missed you too. I thought we were going to meet at the restaurant?”

You pull back only enough to see his face, your hand in his hair. It’s shorter than when you met, but it’s a good look for him.

“I know but I got impatient and figured I could surprise you with dinner. Is that okay? I suppose I could have asked. I used the key you gave me, I figured that the key meant I could stop in but I really should have asked, huh? Sorry, you know I get ahead of myself. Is this a violation of privacy-”

His lips find your rambling ones, immediately shushing you. It’s a warm welcoming feeling, something the both of you have missed terribly. You sink a little more into him, eyes shut in bliss as you slowly mold your lips with his, savoring it, deepening it.

“You being here is perfect, I gave you that key for to use. Thank you for using it.” He says closely as he pulls back, leaning his forehead to yours.

You sigh with a smile. “I really missed you.”

“I really missed you too.”

There’s a very peaceful silence for a moment, filled with your hands on his chest and your lips trailing over his face.

“Hey, sweetheart?” He asks before you press into him again, a little deeper now.

You hum in question against his lips.

“Where are your pants?” He asks, all muttered.

He really wasn’t complaining if you decided a new fashion trend was wandering his apartment in knee socks and funky patterned boy-short underwear.

“Red wine tragedy.” You state, pushing his coat off. “The cork wouldn’t budge, I put a little elbow grease into it but the thing toppled over when it popped and it was like a crime scene. Red stain everywhere.”

He tosses the coat to the arm chair. “That answers my next question as to why you’re wearing my Lacoste shirt.”

“My clothes are in the bathroom sink, had to scrub them down, though I think they can’t be salvaged.” You frown, turning back to the dinner, reaching for your wine glass.

Spencer just stares, watching how domestic it all is. You in his clothes, making dinner.

“Are you tired? Hungry?” You ask, looking over your shoulder at him.

“Hungry, yes. Tired, not yet. Are you staying the night?” He asks, coming behind you, kissing the top of your head as he leans to pick at ingredients and snack on them.

“Oh…do you want me to?” You question, trying to be coy like you don’t already know the answer.

“Of course I want you to.” He responds, making you chew your lip.

“Good, because my bag is already in your bedroom so it would’ve been really awkward if you said no.”

Spencer laughs, squeezing your hip in affection before he goes to clean up and get out of his work clothes. He takes a quick shower, warm water rushing over him, but he doesn’t want to be away from you for too long.

He comes out in sweatpants and a graphic shirt you’ve finally returned back to him.

The two of you sit and eat dinner and you listen to every single word he has to say before you explain your day and everything you didn’t cover in the nightly phone calls he made to you while away. It’s sometime after cleaning up, after the two of you washed dishes while bumping hips, that Spencer notices the trickle of things that have made their way amongst his belongings. Some have come over time, like a collection of cd’s, books, scarves you constantly forget to grab on your way out. Some things are new, like the makeup products in the medicine cabinet, your favorite snacks in the fridge.

“Did you move in while I was gone?” He laughs, coming to sit beside you on his couch.

Your legs immediately are tugged into his lap, his hand rubbing your calves.

“What? No.” You state, taking your hair down. “I just came by to collect your mail and put it on the coffee table …and to water your plants.”

Spencer cocks his head, looking at you in question. “I don’t have any plants, lovely.”

He watches your smile grow. “I got you some plants.” You say with a giggle.

That explains the golden pathos on the television stand and the small fiddle leaf fig by the window.

He thinks it’s charming, endearing. He noses your hair line, drawing you closer to him. “I no longer live alone, it seems.” He hums.

“Does that bother you?” You question, leaning your head into the space between his collar and jaw. The perfect you size space.

Spencer is quiet for a moment, then he shakes his head and speaks something into existence that he probably should have taken more than a second to think over.

“No, it doesn’t. Actually, I think I want you to move in. Permanently.”

Why should he have to think about it? It’s you, he wants you around 24/7. You could be his home, you could greet him like this always, your perfume could linger around like a friendly ghost.

“Is that a joke? I know you have an odd sense of humor.” You say, pulling back to look at him.

Spencer smiles gently, fingers tucking hair behind your ear. “No joke. I want you to be here with me all the time, I’m selfish like that.”

“You aren’t selfish.” You scoff playfully, but your expression quickly turns into one of concern. “But-but are you sure? I’m probably not a good roommate, I can be messy and I sleep weird hours. And I leave wet towels on the floor a lot, and sometimes forget to put the toothpaste away.”

Spencer shakes his head. “That’s fine, I’ll pick up the towels and put the toothpaste away.”

You continue to fuss. “But what about all of my things? I have a lot of stuff, you’d have to move things around and you’d get sick of all my shoes in your closet.”

“I don’t have much in my closet as it is, I’m fine with sharing. I’ll get another bookcase for your books.”

“But-”

He cradles your face in his hands. “But I love you and I’d be happy to trip over your heels forever. Now, do you want to move in or not? You can say no.”

You don’t want to say no.

“Your apartment is bigger than mine…and your shower has better water pressure.” You slowly say, cheeks still squished slightly between his palms.

Spencer begins to break out in a grin, but he lets you finish.

“And I could get to work faster…and I like the thought of never having to go back to my apartment for clean clothes.” Then you pause and look back up to his eye. “It would be nice to share something with you besides my entire heart and body and soul.”

How dare you say something so loving and honest, and just sit there like you were always meant to say these sort of words to him. Spencer is going to be love sick his entire life, he has no back bone, he is not a man but your man and this is all he has ever wanted. He starts to nod with starry eyes, slowly bringing his face closer to yours. “So?” He presses.

“So yes, I want to move in!” You say in a gleeful tone, throwing your arms around his neck as you rush a kiss to him.

You can’t help the cheerful laugh that leaves you, it makes it hard to kiss when Spencer is doing the same thing, completely at your will as you nudge him to shift and lay down on the cushions, you falling on top of him.

This is usually how it goes.

Someone makes a small move and then both of you get carried away. Neither of you ever seem to mind. You could spend an hour kissing and doing nothing else, but you haven’t felt the heat of him in ten days and nights, so you’re hungry for the breath in his lungs and the electricity in his fingers.

Spencer’s hands start to wander as you sit on his hips, kissing him slow and deep. They smooth up your thighs, over your underwear and up your back. Your mind is always as good as blank whenever those hands are on you.

“I’m never leaving again.” He declares, trying to work on the buttons of his shirt that you wear.

You sit up to help him. “That’s not possible.”

“I’ll find a way to make it happen, I only ever want to be here.”

You push the fabric off, leaving you in your lacy bra that he thinks is almost too pretty to take off.

Almost.

“Right here? On your couch?” You question sarcastically, fingers in his hair as he sits up to taste the skin of your neck.

“Yes, on my couch, about to show you how much I missed you.” He clarifies.

It’s blissful and exciting, how he ends up between your thighs, giving you relentless pleasure with no indication that he’s ready for you to return the favor. He’d stay like this all night if you wanted, tongue on nerves, fingers drawing out pretty noises from your blushed lips. It’s because it’s as good as breathing, having you reacting the way you do, tasting you in the most intimate way.

“Spence, baby.” You whine, legs threatening to shut.

He’s working you up, pushing you closer to the edge, looking up at you with those big brown eyes of his. Your hand tightens in his hair, holding him close as you plead for your finish. There’s no need to beg, Spencer would give this to you all day long.

When you do get to that point, it’s throwing you into another existence momentarily. A rather desperate moan frees from your throat, your head digging into the arm of the couch. It makes you feel warm and shaky. You have to blink harshly for your vision to clear.

“I- mmm.” You hum as he comes up to kiss you, it’s sinful the way you taste yourself on his tongue. “I think you’re the most perfect person in the history of persons.”

Spencer chuckles. “I’d correct your grammar but I don’t think your minds working at full speed right now.”

It’s true, everything is slow and fuzzy, yet you still find the urge to ask for more.

“We don’t have to.” He says, wanting to make sure you don’t feel obligated.

You never do, your drive just happens to be something he marvels at. In all actuality, he’s learned that he can match your pace, so it’s always fine. The two of you could spend nights on end falling into each other, either softly or with a hunger.

Tonight is probably one of those nights.

That’s how it seems when he has you in the bedroom after taking you on the sofa.

It’s your shared apartment now, he could probably have you on every available surface. But he has you in his sheets, teeth dragging across his skin, bare and the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Sex is never just sex with Spencer, even when it feels like it. Like when he comes straight to your apartment after a bad day and you offer yourself as a cure. It’s never just using each other, it’s all feeling and praise and making sure the other is reassured and happy. It’s nerves on fire and constantly stroking those deep, hidden parts of heavy pleasure inside each other that have never been brought to life. There’s borders pushed, you just let it happen because there is no way you’d ever want to say no and deny yourself the feeling of what he does to you. He has you arching with an empty head thrown back against the pillow as your tongue goes lame and you can no longer properly tell him how amazing it feels. Spencer has an idea, given the way you shudder and make the most criminal and attractive sounds he’s going to be replaying in his mind forever.

You learn a lot about care in the moments following bliss. Spencer could be compared to an animal of prey, the way he comforts without question, wipes tears from your face and does anything you ask of him.

“Hey.” He calls softly, leaning up on his side, watching you with your messy hair sprawled on the pillow. “You still with me, angel?”

You hum, head feeling heavy as you turn it to face him. You’re there…most of you is.

You suck on your bottom lip like you always tend to do, not needing words as you nod.

His hand reaches for your cheek, thumb brushing the flushed skin. “Overwhelmed?” He asks in an intimate tone, one he only uses with you.

You curl yourself closer to him. “A lot of feelings…I feel a lot.” You jumble, brows furrowed as you try to get power back to your limbs.

He hums, understanding, adjusting to hold you. “It’s the endorphins.” He speaks. “You have a high release of them during sex, then it all comes crashing down post orgasm. Your body’s trying to regulate your dopamine, because you got a thousand milligram shot of it basically, and now the high is coming to an end.”

You love it when he proves just how smart he is. It’s also insanely hilarious if you think about it, because he was just leaving bruises on your thighs as he pushed deep inside of you over and over, and now he’s explaining the science behind everything he made happen for you. To say the least, you were insanely in love with how much of a nerd he is.

“I feel good though. Not sad or anything…just sensitive.” You breathe out, somehow your voice trembles and squeaks, nudging closer to his skin like you need it pressed to yours or you won’t live.

“What do you need?” He asks in concern, tightening his arms around you like a weighted blanket.

You could cry. You won’t, but you could at the way he’s so caring and gentle. In what life do you do good enough in order to deserve him?

This one.

Shifting to see him face to face, your hand rests on his jaw, your thumb brushing the stubble there, and then traces to his upper lip. You like when he doesn’t shave, it makes him look more mature.

“I just need you.” You tell him, continuing your slow rubbing motions. It’s all you can say because you’re not sure he’ll understand that you have the urge to be wrapped in his skin and bones entirely, like you could just absorb into him and be your happiest.

Spencer knew in all of those years of awkward strike outs and getting ignored, that when the day came when he’d have a you to tell him sweet things and caress gently, he’d have to recognize the feeling. He’d have to be aware that this was a gift and to not be blind to the fact in front of him. The fact being that he has someone to love who loves him back just the same, and now he has to use that fact in every choice moving forward.

‘Honeymoon’ months have come and gone and though the two of you did argue once in a blue moon, things were great and were going to stay great.

He thinks a lot about this as he stares at his book page, leaned back in a chair next to the sill of the tub you reside in. Warm water relaxes you, scented bath soap makes your skin smell fresh.

You’re watching your painted toes pop up from the water, perfectly content with his hand twisting a strand of your hair around his fingers.

“I like my bedsheets…they’re soft and broke in.” You say promptly.

“I’ll take my sheets off the bed, you can put yours on.” He tells you.

You turn the hot water dial on and off with your foot quickly. “You’ll let me put my stockings in your sock and underwear drawer?”

“Of course.”

“You won’t laugh at me when I come to bed in nightgowns because I spent way too much money at a 1960’s lingerie store?”

“Did you really do that?” He asks, looking down at you, taking better notice of your hair as he does.

You must have given yourself a trim again, your bang part isn’t straight. You’re always changing your hair on the whim and it’s never perfect, but it always looks great on you.

“I was really bored while you were gone.” You exclaim. “The girls and I went shopping and I somehow ended up with lace teddy’s in four different colors.”

“Which colors?”

“Yellow, pink, blue and purple.”

“I like purple.” He nods.

You smile, then turn over to gaze up at him, arms resting on the edge of the tub. “I love you.”

He looks away from the inked words on the page and to you, resting your cocked head on your folded arms. “I love you too.” He says, leaning down and kissing your temple.

Then he drops the bomb.

“Oh, we’re going over to Rossi’s and you have to meet the team.”

“Now!?” You panic.

“No, no, angel.” He laughs.

- - - -

“My hair.” You fuss.

“You’re beautiful.” Spencer reminds, leading you to the escalator after you get off the metro.

You’ve made every excuse in the book not to go tonight, you’ve worried yourself sick about absolutely nothing.

“Is Rossi really rich?” You ask, wrapping your arm around him as he crowds your space on the moving stairs, hand on your waist, not minding one bit at how you shrink into him as he faces forward.

“Extremely rich, actually. Sometimes I think I should write a book or two and live his lifestyle.” He tries to joke, but you merely groan.

“I should’ve worn different boots, nicer ones.” You sat into his sweater vest.

“Why didn’t you?” He asks.

“These are my nicest boots!” You protest, and Spencer just laughs because he knew that’s exactly what you’d say.

He likes that fact, that he knows you well enough to predict the words from your perfect mouth.

His hand rubs your hip, feeling the thick material of your coat. “Your shoes aren’t going to make them love you, honey, they’re going to love you because you’re you.”

A frown pouts at your red stained lips despite the way you swoon over his sweet words. Spencer is always good at stringing together terms of endearment to make you feel warm and fuzzy.

“Yes, I’m me, and people tend to not like me for obvious reasons.”

He doesn’t like those words coming from your mouth.

“I like you.” He chimes.

“Yes but you’re weird.”

“That’s no way to speak to your boyfriend who just put together a brand new bookcase for your things.”

You smile now, still clinging to him as the two of you head up to the night street. You’ll get a cab and you’ll be unsteady all the way to Rossi’s mansion of a home.

“I’m scared.” You squeeze his hand, staring at the iron door knocker.

Spencer squeezes back. “They pick on me, but they won’t pick on you. Besides, if you want to impress Rossi, just say a few things in Italian and tell him about your year abroad.”

“Vuoi fare sesso con me?”

His brows draw. “What’s that mean?”

You bite your smile. “Something I really can’t say to your boss.”

He rolls his eyes and knocks on the door.

This is the end. They’ll hate you, you’re sure of it and then Spencer will break up with you because his team will tell him he should ditch you and-

“Reid! You’re finally here!” An older man opens the door, dark hair slicked back, maintained facial hair, gold chain. He quickly ushers the two of you inside.

When his attention is turned to you, he is warm and inviting, introducing himself as David, calling you Italian terms of endearment, leading you to his living room after taking your coat.

The team- more like a family- is all talking amongst themselves with drinks in hand and laughing.

You’re thrown into the mix and come to realize you made it all up in your head.

The wine helps.

While the others are still trying to wrap their heads around the fact that Spencer Reid who doesn’t shake hands is showing signs of PDA, the girls who have been plotting for some time are pulling you away from him.

Spencer watches your eyes widen and he opens his mouth to suggest that maybe it’s not the best idea but Morgan sits him back down.

That’s how you end up in the guest bathroom with a bottle of wine and three women who ask you question and question. And as the four of you get tipsier and tipsier, all nerve is lost.

“We moved in together.” You say after handing the bottle to Penelope.

The three exclaim in surprise.

“He never tells us anything.” JJ frowns, possibly the most lightweight of them all.

Emily, who you learn gets more buzzed off of energy than anything, snickers a bit. “Sorry, I just got the image in my head of Reid sleeping in a twin size bed next to yours.”

The rest of you join her laughter.

“We share a bed.” You state, wondering why you thought these women were going to be monsters.

“Aw does he wear his pajamas and night cap too?” Penelope giggles. “Oh! Oh! Does he snore?”

She proceeds to imitate a very fake yet cute way of snoring.

“No, no. You guys have no idea what you’re talking about. He-he’s very normal, no striped pajamas, no oil lamp-”

“Ha! Oil lamp, that’s a good one.” JJ snorts.

“-just normal night routines, normal sex life, normal-ish sleep schedule.”

The three pause and you don’t even realize what you’ve given them.

“Normal sex life?” Emily questions, leaving you to drink from the bottle in confusion.

“Huh?”

“You said normal sex life.” Penelope presses.

“Oh…yeah.” Your cheeks go red.

The three cringe.

“Oh, ew.”

“Yeah, there’s no way Reid has a sex life and I don’t.”

“I’m never gonna get this image out of my head.”

Meanwhile, in the living room, Spencer is getting a similar interview.

“You love her?” Rossi asks with a proud smile.

“I do.” Spencer nods.

“She’s going to be moving in next.” Hotch jokes, fully being satire.

“No, she’s already done that. I’m going to marry her next.”

The men freeze and their eyes widen.

Their Spencer Reid, the young genius with a funny haircut who was just 24, is sitting here now talking about marriage.

“You’re too young for that, kid.” Rossi states, the others seeming to agree.

Only Spencer has thought of this for countless nights. Sure, he isn’t going to marry you tomorrow but he is going to marry you.

“I’m thirty, that’s a very average time for a man to marry. Besides, why would I push it off? I’m not waiting to be sure if she’s the one, I already know that.” He says like it’s so simple.

There’s no reasoning with him because he already has his reasons. The men realize this and accept it, because who were they to try and damper his mood? Everybody loves somebody, and Spencer finally fits that description.

- - - -

Crash

“I broke your plant.” You frown, stumbling over your feet, clinging onto Spencer as he pulls you through the apartment.

“That’s alright, it was more your plant than mine.” He reassures, trying to get you to the bathroom.

He knew he shouldn’t have left you with JJ, Prentiss and Garcia for that long. Now all three of you were wine drunk. He’s just grateful he only has to take care of you. Emily passed out on Rossi’s couch, Morgan was trying to wrangle Penelope when the two of you left.

“Your friends are nice.” You slur, hair in your face as he flicks on the bathroom light and sits you on the closed toilet seat.

“Yeah, real nice.” He huffs, pulling your hair up into a bun before going to grab your toothbrush.

“You’re mad?” You frown, mouth opening as he starts to brush your teeth for you.

Spencer looks down at you, one hand holding your chin while the other works the brush back and forth. “No, angel, never at you.” He reassures.

Once that task was tackled and he helps remove your makeup, he supports you all the way to the bedroom where he sits you in the bed and crouches to unzip your boots and pull them off.

Your eyes squeeze shut in hopes to get rid of the blur, and you yelp as he tugs your stockings down too roughly on accident. As your head hits the mattress, you erupt in a fit of giggles. Spencer can only apologize with a smile and kiss your knee.

“You’re taking my clothes off.” You state the obvious.

“Yes, I am.” He says, sitting you up after he pulls off your skirt to pull your sweater over your head.

“Careful now, I’m a married woman.” You joke, pulling at his sweater vest.

“Oh, are you?” He questions, pushing your hands away. The action draws a childish whine to escape you.

“No, sadly I’m not. I’m a spinster.” You sigh.

“That’s not what that means, lovely.” Spencer laughs.

“Doesn’t matter! Take off your clothes.” You whine and pull at the sweater again.

“Hey, I’m trying to get you ready for bed.” He dodges your advances once more, though it’s hard when you’re begging for a kiss.

Spencer kisses your nose and then goes to the dresser to retrieve a t shirt to slide on you when you’re just down to your underwear.

“I want a real kiss.” You frown, refusing to get in bed until you get it.

Spencer leans to softly peck your lips, once, twice, three times.

“Get in bed, I’ll get you some water.” He says, pulling back and motioning to the pillows.

With an audible humph, you do your best to crawl to your spot and slide into the sheets that came from your old apartment.

Spencer returns quickly with a glass of water, sets it on your bedside table and proceeds to get changed himself, well aware of your gaze.

“Spencer?” You question.

“Yeah?”

“You should make me your wife, I’d be a good one.”

He looks over at you, mostly covered in darkness accept for the light coming in from the window. You look so peaceful, watching him with love, saying the most perfect things.

“I know you would, pretty girl.” He smiles.

You’re satisfied with that answer.

Patting the empty space, you beckon him to your side, wanting to be tangled together. Spencer comes to his side of the mattress, the side closest to the door, and slips under the covers and helps you adjust into him.

Mostly incoherent, you speak. “We could get married, I could change my last name to Reid and we’d be the smartest couple around, you and me.”

Spencer hums, lying on his back as you nuzzle into his chest. “That sounds pretty nice.”

“I won’t ever ask for a divorce either, I wouldn’t even spend all your money.”

“Is that what you think wives do?”

You shrug. “That’s what my dad says about my mom.”

Kissing your head, he beckons you to go to sleep and you could continue this conversation another time.

“…Take your clothes off.” You say, shut eyes and mischievous smile.

“No, go to sleep.”

[cartoon0bssesedb1tch]

“You’ll never lose me..”

Jayce Talis x fem! Reader with abandonment issues

𖦹

Reader has locked herself up in Jayce’s room in hopes of him coming back, not knowing he’s not the same as he was before…

warning: hurt/comfort, doesn’t follow the arcane s2 plot so no spoilers, reader has a mechanical arm , very cute and fluffy!!

A/n: this is kinda short and English is not my first language so pls don’t judge me:(((

Loneliness. A feeling she loathed with every inch of her body.

She never thought she’d fall in love. Falling in love for her meant that the person she was dating would eventually leave her. But it wasn’t like that when she was with Jayce…

Jayce made her feel loved, like she actually matters… until he disappeared. Day after day, she waited for him. She didn’t want to think that he was like the others and left her for no reason but if there’s a reason..? What if it was her that’s the problem…?

All this time she was in his apartment. She lost appetite and doesn’t eat much. She tries to distract herself from overthinking but she couldn’t. Every once in a while she used to go to the lab to continue hextech since no one was there to do it but an incident happened and she had to stay home. Caitlyn used to visit and check on her as well, she used to comfort her saying, “he’s going to come back.” Or “it’s not your fault.” It was nice until she also stopped showing up.

On the other hand, Jayce came back and just killed Salo and Viktor. He needed to relax and cool down his anger… he needed her… the love of his life, the only thing that could keep him sane is seeing her.

He went her apartment, no one was there. He started to get worried, did something happen to her…? No way…

He knew of her fear of being abandoned by her loved one, it was one of the first things he noticed about her. “I’ll never leave you…” he always reassured her but he left her, although not on purpose yet there’s still a sense of guilt in him for doing so. He couldn’t even imagine what she’s going through right now.

He thought of the places he could find her that were her apartment… his apartment… He went there as fast as possible despite his injured leg. He was in front of the door he tried opening it but it was locked so he knocked.

The knock on the door startled her. Who was it? Was it Caitlyn checking on her again? No, she hasn’t heard from Caitlyn in a while either. She slowly went to her door, cautiously opening it. She slightly opened the door and she couldn’t believe her eyes… Jayce… although rugged and injured but it was still him.

“Jayce…” she felt tears welling up her eyes as she went as quickly as possible to hug him. It was actually him, not her imagination but reality. All those days she was thinking that he’s either dead or just didn’t want to be with her.

He put down his hammer to immediately hug her back he nuzzled into her soft hair as he felt himself tear up. “I was so scared…” she said softly. His rough hand went to stroke her hair in a comforting manner. “I know, I know… I am so sorry…” he said.

She looked up to him and moved hair from his face. “What happened..?” She asked. “So much happened…” he answered.

She saw the scars on his face and his injuries. “How about you take a shower then you’ll tell me what happened, okay?” She said softly as he nuzzled into her soft touch. He nodded and stepped inside since they were still in the front door.

After the shower he felt so much better, he went to the living room and saw her on the couch waiting for him. He sat down next to her and started telling her about everything, the hexcore, Viktor.. everything “I’m sorry for leaving you…” he said in the end. “You didn’t do it on purpose…” she said softly as tears rolled down her face again. “When Caitlyn told me you were gone, I thought I did something wrong… I thought it was the same scene that happened over and over again, I was left for a reason unknown to me… I was always thinking about things that might’ve happened to you… but I never thought it’ll be this…” she said.

He wrapped his arms around her in a hug, softly kissing her head. “Shh.. it’s okay, my love… You’ll never lose me, I promise.” He reassured her. She looked up and leaned to softly kissing him. He immediately kissed her back savoring her touch he oh so craved. All those days in the caved, he was alone only think about her.

They slowly pulled away and she looked into his eyes. “I.. I also have something to tell you…” she said. He looked at her a bit confused, “what is it?” She took off one of the sleeves of the sweater revealing a mechanical arm, which was poorly built. Jayce’s eyes slightly widened and touched the arm. “What… how did that happen..?” He asked. “I… I tried building weapons… you and Viktor weren’t there and there was a weapon malfunction and… it exploded… thankfully it was just my arm and not my whole upper body… I tried making myself a new arm but building with only one arm is kind of hard…” she chuckled. He continued looking at her new mechanical arm, “l’ll make you a new one… and I’ll give it cool features to it as well. He softly chuckled and rested his forehead against hers.

“I love you so much…” he said as quiet as a whisper. “I love you too..” she said back. “How about we rest for now? We both need it..” she asked him. He nodded and picked her up bridal style and carried her to the bedroom. He put her down on the bed and laid next to her. He rested his head on hers chest and she ran her fingers through his hair. “You know, I like your new look.” She said playfully. He looked up at her with his eyebrow raised. “Oh yeah?” He asked with same playful tone as hers. “Mhm.. it suits you..” she said. He chuckled and rested his head back on her chest.

He’s finally home…

[thatnonameuser]

imagine if cater took a pic of mc and uploaded to magicam or during vdc some anonymous people notice her being a manager and goes "who's this chick wearing the nrc uniform???" and it gets absolutely blown up on magicam and suddenly mc had hordes of fans (unknowingly) how would this happen and what would the reaction be? hahaha imagine if like people are skeptical on whether shes a darling or yandere

Shall we add more stress to this mental breakdown pile? MC’s going to need a mental institution at this point guys….

So if Cater,  Neige, Vil or just the TV crew upload the VDC for the world to see and she starts trending on social media and she finds out, she’s, no lie, going to have a stroke. 

After housing seven yanderes: Vil with his perfectionism and obsessiveness with that making her life agony, Rook, Epel, after he gets his confidence after the thing with Deuce (and the MC saying she doesn’t care about his appearance, because she doesn’t love him, but he takes that the wrong damn way), Jamil after the mind control stuff, Kalim also after the mind control stuff, AND Adeuce after their possessiveness hits the 11 on the dial after the Scarabia nonsense, AND dealing with Neige, singing that mind-numbing song; she finds out she’s getting a fan base, she’s going to need a very, very long nap before she stabs someone. 

Especially when she starts getting creepy messages, mail (Vil thankfully gave you advice about just burning all of your fanmail and never responding to it. You’re just glad he was right about all that)

 and otherwise ‘visits’ from her new ‘fan club’ (You best believe that Rook is the president). She’s never leaving the walls of NRC alone, or with Grim, ever again. 

If they start debating whether she’s a yandere or a darling. By now, she’s stopped hiding at NRC as a ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t’ but she’s not prepared for the whole world to know that!! And now her fans are having an actual bloody war about whether they’re right about you being one or the other, and you don’t need that on your conscience. To the point where you don’t even care if they figure it out or not, because the fights are that bloody. 

So that’s just fan-fucking-tastic. 

But to your yanderes’ reactions…..

*                        *                        *                        *

The famous celebrities you call your yanderes have different opinions on your fame. 

Vil sees it as something that both aids him, and stresses him out.

(I’ll be rewriting Vil’s family dynamic later, but I’ll give you the short version. Vil’s mother, whom I’m saying is deceased because the wiki doesn’t talk about her, was a famous darling actress, and her love story with Eric Venue was a celebrity love story that would have lasted if she hadn’t passed away.) So Vil will have knowledge on how the fans of the world view famous yandere/darling relationships, and can manipulate that to his advantage and your disadvantage. 

BUT…… Because of that he also knows of the dangers. And he knows how to navigate it. You don’t. 

So he’ll obviously act as your guide. Providing you safety and advice to navigate the most obsessive and delusional of super fans while being his own siren song to guide you into the safety of his embrace. He’s prepared to use that to gaslight you into following him forever, because every second you spend using him as your guide, you’re also fueling his and now your rampant fan base into thinking you’re a couple.

And after that the rest is history. Your own fanbase is entrapping you into being in a as-relationship with him and will lose their collective minds if you have a fight, or any slight disagreement. Vil will use his knowledge of the celebrity world against you, and by the time you figure it out, you’ll be a slave to the fan base and his love. 

Neige sees it as an opportunity! He’ll never tell you that, but he’s ecstatic. Neige pretends not to recognise the influence of his fame on others but with his reputation he’s already fawned over. And because of the reputation of darling and yandere partners, his and your fans might confuse your roles as a yandere and a darling. In their eyes, he’s the darling, you’re the yandere. 

Which means you’re screwed if Neige ever says anything remotely bad or something that can be taken negatively out of context. So better keep him happy. Got it?

Fortunately or Unfortunately, you can use being a darling to your advantage, or Neige can use being a ‘darling’ to his advantage, because darling celebs get the ‘Taylor Swift treatment’ (no offense Swifties) where their fans are prepared to murder if something bad happens to them. Any mistreatment from yanderes, even things that yanderes casually do to their darlings, can get a yandere mutilated or killed. 

As for the non-celebrities….

Rook, as previously stated, is the founder/president of your online fan club before you even got a phone, and he’s happy to see you be worshipped as you deserve. But as your number one, he gets the luxury of having you and not all the casuals. (Rook has earned his title as the number one, your number twos, threes and more can’t even compare to it). So while he'll let you revel in the spotlight for a while, the hunter will cage you eventually, and you’ll be worshipped by very few in the future. 

Cater’s a magicam fanatic with a whole catalogue of pictures he and his clones have taken of you. He’s probably one of the reasons you can’t relax now, being a frantic poster. And he’s not totally against it at first. Cater already loved taking pictures of you, so seeing so many people talk about the two of you is amazing. But then they only talk about you to an excessive degree. Now he’s no longer enjoying this. Having so many other people post about you like you and them are a couple hopelessly in love….. It sickens him. You are his, not theirs and soon all his posts will reflect that.

As for the others….. It’s divided…..

Hated it from the jump. Still hate it now. 

They’re already competing with too many people. They don't need anyone else trying to steal your already limited attention. These people bothering you and trying to steal you away make them join the murder happy train. Whatever gets rid of those annoying nuisances fastest.

Ace - Ace’s spot as first person you met isn’t being threatened but he has already been pissed enough about the fact that you have so many, many people vying for your hand. So now that number has jumped up to the millions, he’s furious. 

Leona - As someone who's been forced to take second place in many other parts of his life, to find so many useless herbivores vying after his herbivore, makes him lose control over his UM and turn his phone into sand upon discovery, and possibly a few of your psycho fans.

Ruggie - Same possessiveness as Leona with similar reasoning, Ruggie’s painfully used to having the things he wants too far out of reach. To risk these pathetic weirdos you don’t even know the names of having you for themselves is something he’s not willing to risk. He’ll maul them to death for even touching you. 

Azul - Insecurity alert! He’s angry, duh, but very, very sad. You being so beloved for doing basically nothing by so many, after seeing you lose your first kiss to someone else, it feels like you would keep choosing another over him, and now there are so, so many options vying for your affection and he hates it, so much. He wants to watch them all drown as he holds them under. 

Floyd - Floyd’s frequent mood swings make the change from side one to two near instantaneous. As soon as he comes to the conclusion, from ‘duh, Shrimpey’s the best’ to ‘I’m going to squeeze them all till their heads pop off’. Don’t let him hear about how much they want to kiss the MC, marry you etc. The eel’s already mad about the kiss incident and the fact you’ve been living with the person who stole it from him, your ‘fans’ made it all the more worse. 

Jade - Jade’s already rearing to kill. Would be a shame if some of the visitors to the VDC get incurably poisoned by the drinks served by the Monstro Lounge. While he smiles eerily the whole time, the eel intends to kill someone for deeming themselves the owner of your heart. Especially after the kiss incident.

Jamil - Doomed to be stuck in second place for way too long, the fact these imbeciles think that you hold any of them in the first place spot in your heart because they saw you on screen once, infuriates him. Maddens him even. The fact that your ‘fans’ think you would give them the time of day after you gave his first kiss to him makes him laugh. (Now if only he could remember it…..)

Idia - Chronically online with a bone to pick, he’s doxxing all these people making promises to come visit you. If any creepasses try to upload any pictures of you in intimate or barely clothed situations (Considering he has a camera in your shower, the irony is lost on him), he’s revealing every last secret they have, spreading online rumors and framing them for whatever crimes he can. If you’re allowed any creepy stalkers who purposely disrespects your boundaries repeatedly, it’s him! And Rook because Rook creeps him out.

(I am not good with chronically online slang and had Urban Dictionary out for this, can you tell?! 🙃)

Sebek - Sebek has a bit of internet awareness despite the fact he’s from the technophobic Briar Valley. And honestly, despite being a fellow person worshipper for Malleus, he, like a hypocrite, ignores that part. He wants to be the only one that you care about, and since he has to compete with too many rivals already, he doesn’t want anymore. 

You’re famous! Cool, you deserve it being so perfect. Wait, why are there so many people staring at you now?

At first, they think that you really deserve it, being so perfect and loveable. The whole world deserves to see you as the perfection incarnate you are….. Until it starts to get very, very overbearing. And others start talking about being your one true love. 

After that, they hate it. Why the hell are there so many people demanding your love, affection and attention, and getting the last part of that statement (because you were panicking but they don’t get that part) when they barely get that on a regular basis. They understand that you’re someone deserving of worshipful devotion, why are they trying to compete with them?!

Deuce - At first, Deuce just considers it a moment of the world reminding him that you are perfect for him. And he’s glad that the world agrees with him because it just pushes him to be better for you. But after a while the jealousy and anger kicks in. In comparison to the idiots that had to learn about you behind a screen, he’s been protecting you from the very beginning and they claim to love you more than he does!? He’s angry, like ready to go back to delinquency angry.

Trey - He, at first, didn’t see you being talked about online as big of a deal as he probably could have. Cater posts about himself and you all the time, so to him at first it wasn’t something to be concerned about. Then it got hard to ignore, and that’s when he hated it. 

Jack - Jack doesn’t notice how utterly bad it is at first. Because of his, mostly pure, love for you, he’s first inspired by your newfound fame to love you more, just to remind you how much you mean to him. But after it becomes a nightmare for you, he wants to make it as much a nightmare for them. He can understand that sometimes his love can be smothering, but he won’t let you live in fear of them, so he’s ready to draw blood. 

Kalim - Kalim already worships you. And for you, to be so perfect people are bound to notice so he doesn’t mind! Until it gets super bad, and then he does. But if they think they can love you more than he can, he’ll do them one better. He’ll send you enough gifts and love letters to overshadow all the creep mail that you’re sent. He’s still mad about all of that though. No one can love you more than he can. 

Silver - Silver’s the first part at first because he sees you as a perfection. But he’s not the second until Lilia politely informs him about the fact that if he and so many others see you as perfect, wouldn’t they try to steal you from him? After that, he’s angry. He understands that it’s not your fault. After all, it’s not your fault that so many people want to snatch his darling away from him. But he’s very not happy about so many people wanting to steal his princess from him. 

Doesn’t understand what the big deal is. They’re upset, can’t ignore that, but they don’t understand why this even happened in the first place.

They don’t understand why you’re being bothered by so many people because you appeared in front of a camera like that. They sympathize with your plight, but why do those obnoxious fans keep sending you creepy mail and try to meet you when they’ve never met you?

Riddle - Blame and Thank Mommy for that one. Riddle’s understanding of how social media fame works is miniscule, and how you suddenly managed to amass a massive following like you did within a few hours is a mystery to him. So while he feels angry and concerned about your plight, he can’t understand it.

Malleus - If Riddle’s understanding is miniscule, Malleus’ is the size of an atom. Because he’s very confused. Angry, wanting to burn the people bothering you to the ground…., but angry. He’s enthusiastically ready to defend you if they get too close, but he doesn’t understand why a single picture on the internet, which he already doesn’t understand, basically summoned an army of followers for you. 

Once the others start to notice that things are really bothering you, and annoying them, they’ll either offer you protection from them (luring you to them) or attacking them (keeping them away from you). Sometimes a mix of both.

As for you, enjoy the 15 minutes of fame that doesn’t end in 15 minutes. What’s better, being stalked and harassed by roughly 2 dozen yanderes who are constantly too close, or being stalked and harassed by hundreds of thousands to millions of yanderes that are anywhere and everywhere in the world?

[witchyvibes91]

Behind the Mask: Part two | Tom Riddle

Summary: One week after your night at the masquerade ball, you decide to confront Tom about your suspicion while Tom continues to struggles with his attraction towards you.

TW: 18+, mdni, chars 18+, smut, rough sex, dom and sub, biting, PIV, male receiving oral, smothering, spanking, scratching, PNV sex, degradation, sex punishment

Word Count: 4.5k

TMR.

The initials lived in your head constantly. Since that night at the masquerade ball a week ago, you couldn’t get it out of your mind. Tom. You had fucked Tom–or rather, Tom had fucked you. 

He hated you. He despised you. He spent years putting you down and making you feel like the smallest person in the world How could he have fucked you? Was it some sick and twisted joke? Did he enjoy it? You needed answers.

“It could be another name.” Your friend said as she looked over the tie for the millionth time. You shook your head. What were the chances someone had the same initials? 

“No. No, it has to be him. The voice. Those eyes. It was him.” You muttered as you paced in front of your friend. She sighed, taking the tie and tossing it over towards you. You barely caught it before looking over at her.

“Then you know what to do. Confront him.” She said firmly and your heart stopped for a moment. Confront him. You knew you needed to. It was the right thing to do but it was difficult. What if you were wrong? What if Tom denied it? And he probably would deny it. 

“He won’t admit it. Even if he did it, he won’t admit it.” You said softly as you stared down at the tie. Your thumb traced over the letters once more. The detail was immaculate. Hand stitched. Highest thread count. A shimmering silver against a dark green background. It was a tie of wealth, a tie of position and power. And you used it as a fucking blindfold a week ago. 

Your friend stood up and walked towards you. She put her hands on yours, forcing you to stop staring at the tie and look into her eyes instead. She had that look on her face you know all too well–the look that told you this wasn’t going to be the answer you wanted to hear.

“You’ll never know until you ask. Now go. It’s starting to get dark out.” She said quietly and your heart raced. She was right. Of course, she was right. You let out the softest sigh before grabbing your coat and throwing it on. You tucked the tie into your pocket and hugged her before heading out.

There was the lightest dusting of snow outside. It was early for snow but nothing seemed to make sense anymore anyways. Why not have snow already? Your hands stayed tucked into your pocket and you played with the tie the entire walk there.

Tom was a meticulous person who always had a plan. If he did do what you thought he did, there was a reason behind it. He wouldn’t have just had sex with you for no reason. At least, that’s what you thought. 

The light from the streetlamps softly guided your way. Your boots clacked on the cobble street as you grew closer and closer to the place you didn’t want to see. Borgin and Burke’s. The sign was clear in your view even against the night sky. You stared at it for several minutes. 

Once you walk inside, everything will change. Even if Tom denies your accusation and calls you insane, even if he hurts you or chases you out, the rift that already exists in your relationship with him will only deepen more. Either way, this was going to be life-changing. It was just a matter of which direction it would change towards. 

You pushed the door open and heard that familiar little bell you heard a few weeks ago now. When you finally stepped in, your body was covered with heated nerves. They were soaring all over as you took in the musty smell of the space. The dark lighting made it nearly impossible to see the back of the store. 

“We’ve closed for the night,” Tom spoke out from somewhere. The second you heard his voice, you felt a chill shoot down your spine. It was familiar. You knew it was him from that night. It had to be. 

You took a few more steps into the building, your boots gently creaking against the wooden floor. You passed by shelves with various items and didn’t utter a single word. Louder footsteps were causing the floor to echo its creaking sound around you as the steps grew closer. 

“Are you deaf? I said we’re clos–” His words were cut off the second he saw you. Tom's jaw tightened and his eyes darkened to yours. The silence was loud. Neither of you said a word as you stared at one another. 

What you didn’t know is that Tom had done nothing but think of you since that night. It was driving him mad. Every morning he woke up having dreamt of you in every possible position he could put you in. He found himself touching himself to your body, your moans that he remembered so well. And it pissed him off. God did it piss him off. But what made him the most mad? How badly he wanted to do it again. 

You pulled the tie out of your pocket slowly and Tom’s eyes flashed down to your hands. When it finally connected what it was, you watched his eyes widen just a touch. If you weren’t paying attention, you wouldn’t have even noticed it. But you did see it and that was all the answers you needed.

“I believe this belongs to you.” You said in the softest tone. Tom’s jaw locked even more and you watched as his perfectly angled jawline clenched, his cheekbones rising through his anger. He drew his head back a touch and his eyes met yours.

“I’ve never seen that before in my life.” 

Lie number one. 

“Are you sure? It has your initials on it. TMR.” 

“Those could be anyone’s initials. Besides, I don’t own a tie with my initials on it.” 

Lie number two. 

“It’s silver and green. Seems very fitting for you to own this tie.” 

“Maybe you are deaf. This tie is not mine.” 

Lie number three. 

Tom wasn’t admitting it. You knew he wouldn’t but your desire for answers was stronger than your fear of what he would do if you kept pushing him. You took a step forward and wrapped the tie behind him.

You pulled both sides of it forward and started to slowly tie it onto him. Your eyes stayed locked with him the entire time. Tom didn’t move a single inch. He watched you. He watched your dainty hands move on that tie, the way they knew exactly how to twist and fold until it was a presentable tie.

Once you finished, you took a small step back and observed the tie on him. It sat flesh against his black button-up shirt that he was already wearing. His hands were in fists at his sides while he watched you take him in.

“It looks just as I remember it looking. That night. At the masquerade ball.” You spoke firmly before looking back into his eyes. Tom hadn’t felt so flustered before. He could speak his way out of every situation, lie out of every situation but for some reason with you? It felt impossible.

“That was the tie you blindfolded me with before you had sex with me, isn’t it?” You asked when Tom didn’t speak up. You could feel your chest rising and falling as you waited for him to answer you.

Words weren’t forming in his head. There seemed to be no possible answer he could give that made you think this was not his tie. He was caught and he knew it. Fuck. 

There was only one thing he could do. He started to walk forward and, to your surprise, he didn’t stop. He forced you to walk backward until your back hit a large bookshelf behind you. You were flesh against it as Tom towered over you. 

“Prove it.” He said sternly and your heart dropped. Prove what? Prove that it was his tie? It had his initials, his old house color. How else could you prove it?

“I think I’ve proven the tie is yours–” You started to say but Tom’s eyes darkened to yours. He put his hand on your waist as he pushed you further into the bookshelf. His body was nearly pressed against yours. 

“Not the tie. Prove I’m the one who fucked you.” He demanded and the words were sharp and clear. They breezed through your ear, worming their way up to your brain as you tried to process what he was saying. 

“I don’t need to. I know it was you, Tom.” You snapped back while the heat between the two of you seemed to rise a bit more. Tom’s hand on your waist gripped a bit tighter. His nails were digging into the material of your sweater and you were already aching to undress for him.

“You know nothing. You have no proof it was me.” He snarled back and you could feel your anger boiling inside. It was more frustrating than anything. You were frustrated he was fighting you. Frustrated that he wasn’t taking accountability for his actions. More than that, you were frustrated that he wouldn’t just own up to giving you the best sex of your life.

Tom inched his face closer to yours. His lips were hovering and he was fighting everything inside of him to not kiss you right now, not taste your lips once more. He had thought about this for a week now. It was the only thing he seemed to think about anymore. You had all but consumed his every thought. 

“I have this tie. And the fact you’re aching to fuck me again right now.” You quipped in a growling whisper back to him. Tom’s eyes flickered between yours. He was frustrated, and annoyed, but more than anything, he was so turned on. 

“You came down here. You confronted me.” Tom said while glaring down at you. His lips were hovering over yours. His eyes stayed locked with yours, giving you a deep and dark stare. 

“And?” You asked, feeling your heart race as you spoke. The tension was strong, palpable. If someone were to walk in right now, surely they would feel it.

“You seek me out. Seems you’re the one who wants to fuck me.” Tom said in a growling whisper. You had no time to snap back because before you knew it, he had pressed his lips hard against yours. 

Your back pressed into the bookshelf as Tom’s body started to push more into yours. His kiss was hungry with desire–a rough kiss that screamed ‘I want to destroy you.’ 

His teeth sunk into your bottom lip as he pulled it away for a moment before crashing back into you. There was no gentleness with Tom Riddle. It was only rough. The kiss was rough. His hands were rough. And the sex–gods–the sex was rough. But fuck did you enjoy it. 

Tom rapidly removed your jacket followed by your sweater and your undershirt. The amount of clothes you had on was annoying him so he removed them as quickly as he could. Before you knew it, you were just in your bra and panties with Tom still fully dressed.

“I knew it was you.” You husked into the kiss as Tom wrapped his arms around your bottom. He quickly lifted you and your legs wrapped around him. He held you against the bookshelf, still kissing you the entire time.

“Shut up.” He demanded and the words sent a chill over your entire body. He was so demanding, just like that night, but you preferred it that way. You wanted it. Craved it. Craved him. 

Tom quickly spun around and carried you until you were sitting against the checkout counter. He laid your body back and took a step back for a moment. He observed you, just as he did that night, but this time you could see the look on his face.

He drank you in, all of you. Your body. Your curves. The softness of your skin. Tom felt as if this was just another one of his dreams. He thought he’d wake up with his hands down his pants thinking of you as he did almost every night since that night of passion. But that wasn’t the case. This was real. So very real. 

“Are you going to stare at me all night?” You asked, knowing you were pushing the limit. But you wanted more. You hadn’t stopped thinking about that night either. You were constantly craving more of it. You were so close and all Tom could do was stare. 

He walked towards you, the smallest smirk growing on his lips at your words. You had done it. You had pushed him over that edge and now? Now you were going to pay for it.

Tom stopped when he was just in front of you. He sat you up and pulled you down from the desk but you weren’t standing long. His hands pressed onto your shoulders until you were on your knees. His eyes darkened with pleasure as he started to undo his pants. 

“You’re going to take me. All of me. And you’re not going to stop.” He growled at you while he started to undress. He took the tie and shirt off first before undoing his pants and pulling out his length. It was larger than you remembered. Being so close you could see every detail. How the tip was so perfectly pointed towards you. The veins that grew along the side of it. He wanted you. It was obvious. 

“Open.” 

And you did. You opened your mouth just as Tom started to shove his tip in between your lips. Your tongue stuck out, dragging down the side of it as he pushed more and more of himself into you. 

“Fuck–yes, that’s it. Keep going.” Tom groaned which was something you didn’t get as much of last time. He continued pushing until he hit the back of your throat. You were trying your hardest not to gag too much. Tom gripped your hair tightly, staring down at you as he did.

“Don’t hold back. Gag.” He demanded as he watched you fighting it. The second he told you to gag, you did. You felt that rushed feeling in your throat as you tried to gasp for air. But Tom didn’t let go. 

He kept a hold of your hair as he started to thrust his hips now. His cock ran back and forth out of your mouth as tears streaked your cheeks. You were already a mess and he was just starting. Tom took pride in making you look as unpresentable as possible. He wanted your hair to be messy, your face to be stained, your ass to be red. He wanted all of it. 

“You’re a fucking mess,” Tom growled. He wouldn’t admit it, but you looked good. Really fucking good. His eyes glanced over your body and he could see the bite marks he had left on you a week ago. They were faded now but still there. That made his length twitch in your mouth.

You bobbed your head faster as more of Tom was forced to the back of your throat. You thought you couldn’t gag anymore than you already had when Tom hit hard in your mouth. Your eyes widen at the sensation and fuck, it was rough. You weren’t sure you’d have a voice left after this.

Something told you Tom would like teeth. Not a lot. Not a big bite, but you were taking a risk here. You gently pressed your teeth to his flesh and let them drag across his cock. As you did, your eyes stayed locked with his. 

His hand gripped your hair tightly and you weren’t sure what would happen. Would he pull out? Slap you in the face? Like it? All of those were suitable options for Tom. But it was the last one that seemed to be the most plausible. 

“Wh-what the hell?” Tom muttered as you did it again. He didn’t expect to like it but fuck, did he ever. He started to thrust faster, your teeth dragging across the skin as he did. His eyes rolled to the back of his head momentarily. 

Tom was always a put-together man. He never let anyone see him in a vulnerable state. You, however, were bringing it out of him. It was nearly impossible to do but somehow you had achieved the impossible. 

He could feel his orgasm growing but he didn’t want to finish. Not yet. His hands gripped harder into your hair as he thrust a few more times before finally pulling out. The release of his cock from your mouth hit you as you gasped for air. 

Tom placed one finger under your chin. Your cheeks were stained with tears and make-up. Your lips were shimmering from the saliva that coated them. Tom pushed his finger under your chin, forcing you to stand up. He didn’t stop until you were fully straight in front of him.

“Turn around.” He growled at you through darkened eyes and you did as he asked. You turned around slowly, not even sure what to expect. Tom’s eyes roamed over your body as he took in all of the leftover marks from last time.

He made a map of all the new marks he was about to leave. His eyes made note of places that weren’t marked up yet, places he could put his touch–his bite–on you. Tom walked forward and he pulled out his wand. He placed it against your back and the moment it made contact, your breath shuttered.

“Forward.” He said firmly and you started to walk all with the wand pressing hard into your spine. You walked until your hands were flat against the counter. Tom dragged the wand down to your lower back. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to your ear and dropping his voice to a whisper.

“Bend over.” 

The command made your heart race. There was something about Tom telling you what to do that made you so insanely submissive. You had never felt that before with anyone else. But with him? It just made sense. 

You bent over the counter, your arms stretching out as you did. Tom took his foot between yours, kicking your legs open a bit more. With his wand, he pulled the band of your panties and tugged them until they were off. He then pointed the wand back to your back, dragging it up before pressing it to the side of your neck. 

Tom took his pre-cum soaked tip and teased it at your entrance as he stood hard against you. You could feel your body aching for him. You wanted him to fuck you, to destroy you. God, did you hate him, his pretentiousness, his charm? But that hate was quickly turning into a desire that you were so unaware of until recently. 

“You’re going to take me, all of me, but you’re not going to make a single fucking sound. Am I understood?” Tom growled into your ear as he continued teasing your entrance. 

“Yes.” You whispered and a smirk grew on Tom’s face. He pressed the wand a bit tighter into the soft skin of your neck and you gasped as he did.

“Yes, what?” He asked and your mind raced. What the fuck did he want? Yes sir? Yes, daddy? None of those seemed strong enough for the presence that Tom presented. 

“Yes, master.” It was the only one that made sense. And it worked. Tom bit into your ear a bit, nibbling on it before moving to the other side of your neck.

“What a good little slut.” He growled just before biting down on your shoulder a bit. You let out a small yelp but quickly wanted to kick yourself for already breaking the agreement to be silent. Tom let that one slide but it would be the only one. Another sound and you would be in for it.

Tom pressed his length into you, giving no warning as he did. He slammed the full thing in and you had to bite your tongue from screaming. He kept his body pressed hard against yours only making the angle harder to stay silent.

He was hitting spots you weren’t even aware of, angling so that you were feeling every ounce of pleasure. Tom stood up straight and took his nails, dragging them down your back. There was pain but it was only adding to the pleasure.

“You’re doing so good. Keep taking my cock–fuck!” He demanded and you closed your eyes for a moment. Praise by Tom? It seemed so unfamiliar but you took it. It made you even wetter, and more excited.

Tom continued thrusting hard as he watched the red lines appear on your back. The wand was leaving a mark on the side of your neck with how deeply he was pushing it. He reached his hand up and smacked your ass once, watching as the red handprint spread across it. 

He looked up at you and saw how hard you were struggling to stay quiet. He wanted to test this, to see how well you would listen. Tom raised his hand and smacked your ass again but this time with more strength and more force.

You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You let out a loud gasp followed by a loud ‘Fuck!’ which only made Tom’s smirk drop. He leaned down and wrapped his hand over your mouth. He stood you up, his cock still fully in you as you were straight against him now. 

“I told you to be quiet. Now? You’re going to be punished.” Tom growled as he started to thrust in you while you stood up. The new position pushed him deeper into you and your eyes widened. How would you be punished? 

Tom thrusted hard and you could feel your orgasm growing. Your wet lips pushed hard against his hand that covered your mouth and you tried to let out a ragged breath as you hit that climax. Juices flowed down your legs and your body shook.

“One.” 

Tom said before he quickly bent you back over once more all while keeping his hand over your mouth. He didn’t stop. He never gave you a break. There was no come-down of post-sex bliss. He hit hard into you, groaning here and there through thrusts.

It wasn’t long before you felt a second climax coming. Your eyes widened as it washed over you, feeling your legs shake. Tom, again, didn’t stop.

“Two.” 

Fuck.

You knew what he was doing. He was punishing you with orgasm torture. You were going to be exhausted. Your body would be worn out. There would be no breaks. And you couldn’t even argue back. 

Your body squirmed under him when he didn’t stop. You were overly sensitive, unable to hardly take it anymore. Tom didn’t care. You were going to take it, no matter what. He finally dropped his wand and let his hand wrap around to find your already sensitive clit. 

“Do it again,” Tom demanded as he pressed his finger to your clit and forced you to scream against his hand. He pulled his hand tighter, your head going back a bit as he did. Sweat covered your forehead. Your hair was stringy and stuck to your face. You were getting destroyed in every possible way.

“I said, again,” Tom growled loudly as he watched your legs shaking. You could hardly stand. Your hands were gripping the counter tightly when he moved his finger faster. You felt that third orgasm and it was almost an exhaustion more than it was pleasure.

“Three.” 

Tom spoke out as you finished once more. You could feel tears in your eyes from all of the sensations. You couldn’t take it anymore. And Tom knew that. He slowed his thrusts down and moved his finger from your already swollen clit. 

“Have you learned your lesson?” He asked and all you could do was nod your head. He finally removed his hand, spinning you around to face him. He swiftly picked you up and your exhausted body laid against his as he carried you to the wall. 

“Good. Now, take every last drop of me.” Tom spoke, knowing he was going to fill you up this time. He pulled your bra down and bit down on your nipples just as he inserted himself into you once more.

You couldn’t talk–fuck, you could hardly breathe. You bit down on your bottom lip, making sure not to make a single sound as Tom continued thrusting in you. It wasn’t long before he finished and you felt his cum deep inside of you. The sticky and warm liquid painted your walls as he let every last little drop fill you up.

Tom let your back slowly slide down the wall before you were on your feet. You stared up at him, your heart racing. The two of you stood there, trying to catch your breath as you stared into each other's eyes. Tom reached up, brushing some of your hair back for a moment.  There was a shadow that moved across the room and Tom glanced over to see a couple walking by the shop. He quickly flicked his hand at the door, making sure it was locked before covering your body with his. Once the shadows were gone, he moved back a touch and you looked back up at him once more.

“I-I suppose I should go.” You muttered in a trembling voice. Tom didn’t want you to go. He wasn’t even sure why but he knew it wasn’t a good idea if you stayed. 

He helped you find your clothes and the two of you quickly dressed. You glanced down at the tie on the ground, realizing Tom never did own up to it being him that night. But you knew it was. It had to be him.

You grabbed the tie and started to walk towards the door with Tom following you. He unlocked it and you opened the door. But before you could walk out, Tom grabbed your wrist. He spun you towards him and planted one last kiss on your lips. 

While kissing you, Tom reached for the tie and slipped it out of your hand. The material smoothly ran through your fingers until you broke the kiss. Tom raised the tie towards you, giving you the tiniest smirk.

“Thanks for bringing my tie back, doll.” He said with a charming wink before tucking it into his pocket. He shut the door, locked it, and walked away while leaving you there speechless.

It was him. It was Tom all along. And, for some reason, that didn’t bother you. You walked back home that night with the biggest smile on your face. You weren’t sure what would happen with you and Tom now but, whatever it was, it would be welcomed. Very, very welcomed.

As always, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Thank-you for reading 💙

[ihrthoney]

you know what the time is, ak!jason thoughts

me when i don’t write fics so i make hcs

i feel like jason will sometimes lose himself, his sanity will be spread thin with planning to take down batman (he planned for like a year then the moments in the game happen in one night)

even though he tweaked your devices and had your full trust, he couldn’t trust you. not completely.

he had a tracker in your jewelry, when he was gone for days to train he could always pull up where you were. 99% of the time you were at the safe house, you respected him enough to stay home and wait for him. granted he got you whatever you wanted to keep busy. whatever you wanted.

you were so compliant that it started to make him doubt. what if you were just taking advantage of him? what if none of this was real? what if batman sent you and you’re working undercover?

thoughts filled his head, drowning him. he couldn’t think straight, it became hard to look you in the eyes, to let you come close to him.

whenever you asked to go out, he let you but always followed. it tugs at him at not trusting you because he wants to so badly, but he can’t get the doubts out of his mind.

he hates feeling obsessive. he hates the look on your face when he denies your request to go out for the day. your face fell before instantly softening and becoming understanding.

of course he wanted you to go out, but his mind was telling him you’d betray him. that you would try to leave him, he was abandoned too many times he can’t.. he can’t have you leave too.

one night, you woke up and found him watching you sleep. he was in bed next to you, sitting up against the headboard. given his build he looked intimidating in the dark room, but he was your jaybee.

without another word, you sat up against the headboard and locked your pinky with his.

nothing is said for a long time, the distant honks of cars and yelling is carried through the wind that filters through the room,

“i don’t ever want you to leave.”

“i’m not going anywhere, jay.”

“what if i ask you to never leave the safe house.”

“not even with you?”

your soft voice frustrates him, you should be mad, irritated, he’s not being rational!

“you could be living a normal life-“

“stop that, jason.”

“it’s true. you’re like a bird trapped in a cage, you should be out there! not here with me.”

“but i want to be here with you. this is my choice. you aren’t making me do anything, you know that right?”

he doesn’t want to look at you. a part of him wants the rage to consume him, to swallow him whole. jason wants you to run only so he could convince you to come back.

he needs you so badly, he wants you more than anything but his own mind can’t let him.

your free hand moves to slowly turn his head towards you, he lets you break himself out of his thoughts,

“i love you, jace. more than your mind could ever comprehend. anything you need me to do to make you feel safe, i’ll do it.”

“but it jeopardizes your comfortability.”

“who said that? i’m perfectly comfortable here.”

“in this cage?”

“in our safe house. we have traps, cameras, and weapons in case anything happens. i have a device i can click just once and you’ll be here in 5 minutes tops”

“3 minutes.”

his correction makes you laugh, “you bought me a whole fucking pc and made some of your workers play games with me. i can promise you, i don’t feel trapped baby.”

“this isn’t normal though, you should be allowed to go out whenever you want to.”

“and i can, you just have to be with me. it’s not like i want to go anywhere without you anyway.”

“we can’t go to the beach, or pools, or hotels, or-“

“we can if it’s another state.”

“but we can’t leave gotham.”

“then let’s build a pool.”

“you always have something to say, don’t you?”

“i’m always here to keep you in check, i always have been.”

“yeah, a pain in my ass you are.”

he wants you so bad omg. he’s still working through his trauma and he hates to burden you, but just the feeling of your hand in his is enough to pull him out of that dark place.

[ladykailitha]

Of Butterflies and Backstrokes Part 15

And here we are at the end! It's been a wild and fun ride. Thank you to everyone who came with me on this journey!

@cryptid-system I hope my solution is as easy as yours ;)

We have the fallout from the cliffhanger, Steve taking that final step, and the truth comes out.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

~

When they got there, it was already a mess. Eddie had caught Jason at his locker and when Chrissy provided evidence that he was told to do so by Billy, that pretty much stopped the whole fucking event.

It took two days to untangle the whole shitshow, but at the end, Jason was replaced by an alternate and Chrissy allowed to continue, but with strict instructions that if she so much as toed the line she would be removed too.

Chrissy readily agreed. She wanted to compete, she didn’t want to cheat.

But that got Eddie thinking and he discussed his theory with the judges. They agreed to look into it but that the games would continue as scheduled.

Eddie agreed that would probably be best.

When it was time for the first meet, for real this time, Eddie made a show of checking his starting block for any sign of sabotage.

“Eddie Munson, checking his block for any signs of tampering,” the announcer said. “With his coach being Steve Harrington and the attempt to get him out of the races for drug possession, he has a lot of reasons to be cautious.”

The other announcer burst out laughing. “Did he just kick it? Like one does a tire of a used car one is buying?”

“It appears he did,” the announcer said, grinning from ear to ear. “It makes for some good entertainment, though.”

“It does that, yes.”

Eddie looked up at the stands and gave Steve a thumbs up and Steve burst out laughing.

Then Eddie put his goggles on, lowered himself into the water and grasped the starting block. He settled in and waited for the horn. No gun shots here.

Then the horn blared and he was off like a shot, arching into the water the way that Steve always loved.

He was graceful and fluid. And he was way ahead of his peers.

Steve was on the edge of his seat. Wayne and Robin each had a hand on his shoulders as Eddie kept his lead. Steve glanced up at the timer, but it was no where near a world record. But at this point it didn’t matter. Slowly the three of them rose to their feet as he neared the end.

Then he touched the pad and the entire stadium roared to life.

“What an incredible performance!” the first announcer crowed. “First time Olympian, Eddie Munson has taken the first gold of the swimming games!”

“And what an amazing gold it was,” the second announcer agreed. “We have USA teammate Trent York in silver, and bronze medal to Itsuke Tohsaka for Japan!”

“Great work to the USA for that double win,” the announced concluded.

~

On the winner’s podium, Eddie took a bite out of the gold to make sure it was real and then held it above his head.

Steve was so excited, he was jumping up and down. Then he did the unexpected. He ran out to the field and kissed Eddie senseless as he hopped down from the podium and into Steve’s waiting arms.

Steve spun him around excitedly and then kissed him again.

“If that’s the reaction I get when I get gold I’m going to have to win a lot more of them,” Eddie teased.

“It won’t matter,” Steve murmured into his ear. “I’ll kiss you no matter how you fare.”

Eddie smacked his arm. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna watch my teammate propose to his girlfriend of three years.”

Steve turned to where, sure enough Trent York was getting down on one knee to ask his girlfriend to marry him.

“Ah...” he said with a deep blush. “Nothing to be jealous of there, then?”

Eddie gently pulled Steve’s gaze away from the happy scene. “Never, lover boy.” And kissed him to the roar of the crowd.

The poor Japanese kid was looking around because he didn’t know what to do. Then a fan came tearing through the crowd and promptly kissed him on the mouth.

The announcers were calling it the love games, much to Steve and Eddie’s absolute glee.

~

Eddie medalled in all five of his events with talks to see about joining some of the medley teams for greater diversity of his form.

After Eddie’s last gold medal, his third, he was approached by the Olympic community for the swimming. His other two were silver, beating out Steve’s first time.

“Mr. Munson,” the French judge said, “we wanted to thank you for bringing to our attention your suspicions of the 2008 games.”

Steve looked at Eddie in confusion. “What suspicions?”

“Steve,” Wayne said gravely, “it’s been the long-held belief of a lot of people for awhile now that your accident wasn’t an accident at all.”

“Of course it was,” he said, frowning. “They looked into it afterwards and there were no signs of tampering.”

The Olympic members looked around at each other abashedly.

“That’s not quite true,” the English Olympic member muttered, “it was deemed inconclusive.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“With Billy sabotaging Mr. Munson with the drugs,” the French Olympic member said, “he asked us to see if there was any indication he had done such things in the past.”

“Billy?” Steve said, feeling the rush of blood around his ears. “Oh god. I always thought there was more to what happened, but Billy?”

He sank to a crouch and put his head between his legs to ward off a faint. They led him over to a bench and Robin rushed to get him water.

“When we started looking into the matter,” the English Olympic member said, “a maintenance worker immediately came forward because he feared that he would lose his job if he didn’t.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie said, sitting down hard next to Steve. “I really didn’t think anything would come of this. But it’s assault, right?”

“Technically it’s battery,” the French Olympic member murmured, “but while the Olympic Community has the authority to strip Billy of his two bronze medals, we cannot do anything else because it happened in Tokyo.”

Steve shook his head. “No, no. I get it. Just knowing he’s to blame is enough. Knowing that I have answers for the first time in my life to what happened to me, is–is plenty.”

Just then Billy came storming up to them. “This all your fault, Harrington. You’ll pay for this. I’m the superior swimmer, you fucking coward.”

“So put your money where your mouth is,” Steve growled getting to his feet. “Right here, right now. You and me, 150m. They’ll judge,” he pointed to the two Olympic members. “But I am and will forever be your god.”

Robin and Eddie shared shocked glances. They both wanted to jump in and ask if Steve was sure, but Wayne put a hand on Eddie’s chest and shook his head.

Robin opened her mouth to protest, but she saw the firm lines of Steve’s jaw and knew. He had this.

“Go suit up,” the English Olympic member said with a curt nod. “I think Mr. Harrington deserves a rematch, don’t you Marie?”

The French Olympic member nodded. “Yes, Theodore, I do believe he does. I will send someone to get you the appropriate gear.”

“Steve would you mind changing in the women’s dressing room to prevent trouble?” Theodore asked.

Steve nodded. “That’s fine. It makes it easier because my assistant coach is a woman.”

The two members nodded and everyone went their separate ways, leaving Wayne and Eddie alone in the bleachers.

“I’m so worried, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie admitted as he clasped his hands together, leaning on his knees. He dropped his head between his shoulders with a heavy sigh.

“He’ll be fine,” Wayne soothed, rubbing Eddie’s back. “He needs to do this otherwise he’ll always be afraid. But if you’re so worried call Rhys.”

Eddie straightened up. “I didn’t know you were on a first name basis with Gareth’s dad.”

Wayne scoffed. “Kid, I’m on a first name basis with all your friends’ parents, considering how much trouble you lot tended to get up to.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, okay that tracks.” He picked up his bag that Wayne had been holding on to.

After the incident with Jason and Billy, Eddie refused to use the lockers at all and just handed Wayne his stuff before every meet. He dug around his clothes until he found what he was looking for. His cell phone. He called up Dr. Hughes.

“Eddie!” Dr. Hughes greeted cheerfully. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

So Eddie told him.

“I’m with Wayne on this one,” he said when Eddie was done. “But I appreciate your concern was enough that you reached out. He’ll be fine. Congrats on your relationship, though.”

Eddie snorted. “Of course he told you. But yeah, thanks. We don’t know what’s going to happen going forward, but we’re going to figure it out together.”

“He didn’t tell me anything, Ed,” Dr. Hughes said with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure the whole world saw that kiss.”

Eddie blushed and shoved a strand of hair in front of his face even though Dr. Hughes couldn’t see him.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Forgot about that little tidbit?” Dr. Hughes asked, slyly.

“It was a really good kiss,” he murmured.

Dr. Hughes laughed again. “Fair enough. Tell Steve good luck for me.”

“Will do.”

Eddie nearly dropped his phone when Steve came out. It was not the Steve he knew. The man in front of him oozed confidence and charm. The man who would be king.

He trotted up to him and licked his lips. “You don’t have to do this. You know you’re better than he is.”

Steve smirked. “Oh I do, but he doesn’t.”

Eddie huffed a laugh and helped him get all his hair under the cap. Then they walked over to the starting blocks. There was space between the two that Billy and he would use. It looked as though they were taking this very seriously.

“Butterfly?” Billy sneered. “I want to beat you at your best.”

“Butterfly it is,” Steve said with a nod. He pulled his goggles on and Billy pretended to rush him, but Steve didn’t even flinch. “I’ve faced scarier things than you in the last four years, you’re nothing.”

He turned on his heel and got up on the starting block. Billy did the same, without the swagger from before. Eddie would swear for years, he saw sweat bead on Billy’s temples as they waited for the horn.

Then it went off. They both dived into the water. And instantly, Eddie could tell the difference. Not just in form, but style too.

They watched and waited as they did their laps. Steve keeping a body’s length between Billy and him. Then it was the last lap and Steve surged ahead, outstripping Billy even further.

Steve tapped the plate well before Billy did and yanked off his goggles, whooping and cheering.

“Oh my god!” Chrissy screamed.

“Steve look up!” Robin called out.

At first Eddie didn’t understand what she was screaming about. Then he spotted it. “Steve, baby. I need you to look at your time.”

Steve looked at the judges first who were in shock. Then he looked over at Billy who looked completely devastated. He finally looked up at the time clock. A new world record.

“It can’t be counted because it wasn’t an official race,” Marie said. “But if you can replicated it, you have to have to come back to the sport. Especially with a time like that.”

“Hell yeah!” Steve cheered, pulling himself out of the pool. “I’m back, baby!”

Eddie rushed over and kissed him senseless the moment he was on his feet.

“Mr. Harrington there is the small matter of being Mr. Munson’s coach,” Theodore said, pained.

Robin raised her hand. “Hold on, what is the biggest concern with an athlete/coach relationship?”

The two judges exchanged glances.

“The power imbalance,” Marie said. “And especially considering the large gap between their ages it wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“But if we take into consideration Steve’s trauma and phobias,” Robin continued, “it wouldn’t be an imbalance.”

The judges didn’t look sure, especially after that performance.

“Trauma can crop back up at any time,” Robin said, “so this doesn’t mean he’s fixed.”

“Rob!” Steve chuckled. “There’s an easier way to do this, without upsetting these good people.”

She blinked at him for a moment. “Huh?”

“You coach us both!” he said with a laugh. “If we’re peers then there can’t be a power imbalance at all!”

“Oh!”

Everyone laughed.

~

Joyce handed Robin a box in front of Max, Eddie, and Steve. She opened the box and inside was a coach’s jacket with BUCKLEY in silver and black bold letters. She tried to hold back tears as Steve helped her put it on.

“You earned it,” he whispered, before going and standing next to Eddie.

“Just one more thing before you get started,” Joyce said with a smile. “Robin has decided to also have an assistant coach. May I introduce you to Coach Cunningham.”

Chrissy stepped out of the women’s locker room with a smile and shy little wave.

“I trust there won’t be any difficulties?” Joyce asked with a raised eyebrow.

Everyone shook their heads no.

Eddie put his arm around her shoulders. “So what made you decide to become a coach?”

“I decided I wasn’t cut out for the competition racket,” she said with a grin. “Billy showed me that.”

Eddie nodded.

“Plus there’s the fact that there are no rules against dating a fellow coach.”

Eddie barked out a laugh as Robin turned bright, bright red.

Oh yeah, Chrissy was going to fit in just fine.

Steve grabbed his arm. “Come on, I’ll race you to the pool!”

Eddie threw his head back and laughed and laughed, all the while Steve took off running. He shook his head and chased his boyfriend to the pool.

Thank god for Jim Hopper.

~

Tag List: STORY COMPLETE

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @gloomysoup

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @eriquin

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @chameleonhair @sadisticaltarts @dreamercec @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mac-attack19

10- @aol19 @tartarusknight @morallyundefined

[revelboo]

RAHHHHH the rammatra fic outta nowhere had me going ʕʘ‿ʘʔ

(Tbh I think he and genji were my gateway drug to robots)

Absolutely scrumptious as always

Anti-Gravity Pt 2

Ramattra x Reader

• Ankle screaming when you put weight on it, you use the length of rebar like a cane to pick your way closer to the pinned Omnic. He still has one good arm, so you’ll need to be quick. Drive that rebar deep as you can, through that baleful optic and out the other side. Omnic aren’t people, they’re not alive, just a clever impersonation of it. Except. You remember months ago, getting caught on the outskirts of a mob running down a lone Omnic. Watching them pull it to the ground, but doing nothing to stop them. It wasn’t your problem, you just wanted to go home. But it hadn’t begged or pleaded with its attackers. All it had said while it still could speak was that it was ‘seen in the light of the Iris.’ Like it believed it was more than just a machine. Raising the rebar, you stare down at it. Him, Ramattra. A machine. Just a machine.

• Servos curling in a fist, he tiredly watches the human poised to attack him. One side of your face smeared with blood from a sluggishly bleeding wound at your temple. Baring your teeth at him, rocking forward, but faltering. And your hands are shaking as you make to lunge and then stop yourself again. Finally meeting his optics. “You’re a monster,”you tell him, voice tired as you slump down on a pile of rubble nearby. Above the two of you something shifts and dirt patters down. He understands that hate in your eyes, but your mercy takes him by surprise. “You deserve to die,” you add, voice angry now. At him or yourself?

• “If I’m a monster, it’s because your kind gave me no choice,” that low, digitized voice growls as he tries to drag himself more upright before giving up. Head tipping back to stare at the rubble above them and you follow his stare even as his words whisper through you. Make you think of that Omnic dying for no reason at all, torn apart by that mob. What had it even done? Just been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Dared to exist?

• Growling softly, he knows that if they start messing with the debris above, it’s likely to come down and your mercy will mean very little when you’re both crushed. “There’s always a choice,” you counter, rolling up your pant leg to gingerly prod at your ankle and he watches your little shoulders hunch. From above, there’s another shower of dirt and rocks, the drip of water becoming a steady stream from a busted pipe.

• You’re afraid to take off your sneaker and see how bad it really is. Afraid you won’t be able to get the show back on if you do. The only thing you’re certain of it’s that you can’t stay here. You’re not sure if you’re in the sewer or in some kind of maintenance tunnel, but you don’t want it to become your tomb.

• “Your naïveté will get you killed,” he growls, watching you turn your attention back to him. To his trapped leg. While you can still walk, he can’t. Not alone. Doesn’t have the energy to swap back to nemesis form to try and free himself, too damaged to risk it. Ignoring you since you’re apparently not going to try and end him right this moment, he tries to free his pinned lower leg. Tensing when you limp over and drive that rebar under the broken wall crushing him and pushing down on it like a fulcrum. Too small to budge it at all, but still trying. Above them something creaks and scrapes. How long? Minutes or hours? And he follows your attention when it drifts toward the dark tunnel. “You can’t see in the dark, but I can. Find something sharp. Metal.”

• You stare at him, attention drifting back to his lower leg. Knowing you’re not going to get him free in time, but he’s right. It’s pitch deeper in and the only light is coming through the shifting rubble. You’ll never find a way out without him. Limping sends jagged shards of pain through your leg and knee, but you find something useable and carry it over. Feeling oddly squeamish as he positions it against the joint of his knee and you realize what he wants. Just a machine, you remind yourself as he tries to saw at the joint, making a low, snarling sound of very real pain. And you grab the sides of the metal fragment and drive it down. Again and again, feeling the edges biting into your palm. It takes both of you to sever the lower half of his leg and your palms are cut up and sticky with blood as you offer him a hand. “You’re still a monster,” you tell him as he lurches unsteadily upright with only one leg and one arm. Skin crawling as he leans on you and nearly knocks you both down with his weight. He’s silent as you grit your teeth and start moving, letting him use you for balance. Because even if he’s a monster, he doesn’t deserve to die like this. No one does.

Previous

[localshe]

JEALOUSY k. martin

► sum. maybe dancing with a stranger on her birthday wasn’t really ideal. you had no clue she’ll be making you dance on top of her instead.

wc. idfk

warnings. fem! reader, escalates briefly, strap-on, dirty talk, masturbation, fingering, petnames, praise, breeding kink.

an. the long awaited fic has arrived. i keep rereading it and half makes no sense so im js posting this for ygs sake. you’ll see that in some parts i got lazy and whatnot, maybe even repeated shit (idk) but i hope you enjoy this mess <3

(this is not proofread)

•••

two warm hands found home on your hips, swaying against a crotch that you were unfamiliar with. you didn’t care tho, not when the alcohol tasted like chocolate, and not when the music got louder.

you let the alcohol take control over you, returning the favor by leading your feet to the dance floor with jada and gabbie, but that was ten minutes ago.

the both of them disappeared somewhere else when a man asked you to dance with him— which you of course were vulnerable enough to not say no.

and thats how your practically on the man, in a euphoric state while you smiled in bliss. the club becoming hazy at how fast your dancing, the both of you sharing small words to make this moment funner.

‘the motto’ by drake started to blare around the club, people immediately started to cheer, even monika, caitlin and jada joining you.

and when jada had suggested that kate should join in, you had just locked eyes with her.

her tall, vigorous figure — immobile, leaning against a wall. her eyes roamed both of yours’ bodies, especially counting the centimeters between your ass and his belt.

growing nervous, finally leaving the group, you amble to your girlfriend—found green-eyed and eager to brawl the guy who was presently trying to find you in the misty forest of drunk individuals like you.

you ignored the neurotic adulation spreading inside your stomach, going for a kiss just to get dogged, and you scoff. in utter disbelief on how someone can decline your lips, or how kate declined your lips with such dexterity.

“uh, what the fuck?” you furrow your brows, and almost instantly kate bit her lip, subtly shaking her head, not appreciating ur poor, drunken anger. instead—she gripped your forearm to her car.

confusion filled your mind.

what type of confusion? the type to swiftly snatch her firm hand away and stand still with crossed arms as you questioned out loud the questions that devised inside your brain rather quickly.

first it was . . “kate why don’t we just go back inside?”

second — “why are we- uhp leaving?”

then — “you didn’t even say bye to everyone.”

which led to — “hello? stop laugh-i-ing and answer me!”

through hiccups, you tried your best to get a point a-cross. only earning sarcastic laughter. “get in the car baby girl,” kate softly told you, eyes alleviated as she awaited for your future steps.

and even tho she had appeared to change into the natural kate that would never force you to do anything, there was a tiny ogle of sour in her smile.

so you decided to get in the car, choosing a safe path because it felt more secure. you didn’t know what would happen in the next minutes, you didn’t wanna know.

but oh, you knew when you were founded sprawled, back domed beautifully as the whet nail prodded at your bundle of nerves briskly.

it was so sudden.

she was stretching you out hefty, not letting you take any chances to take a deep breath.

“shiiiiit!” two fingers messaged your walls around and around and around, controlling your hormones that already felt like they were doing something to you.

but nothing like kate slowly taking her fingers out of you painfully obtuse, a splatter sound rumbling around the room, “tch, he made you this wet?” she queried, keened bitter emanated from her tone.

and that made you wonder . . was she jealous?

the mention of a guy left you confused, but you didn’t have enough time to operate her words when she stood up, sighing as she took off those suffocating, derided gray sweatpants that hung low the whole night, proudly showing off the sexy calvin klein boxers.

you felt a big throb nictate your red, cushioned clit when kate had gotten her strap ready.

“oh, you thought you were just gonna get a good fuck like that?” she pouted in pure sarcasm, snapping her fingers to dictate on how quick it could’ve gone, “after letting a stranger touch you? really mama?” smacking her teeth, shaking her head in lost disappointment.

now you started to shake your head, about to disapprove her own sightseeings when she met your lips, quickly covering her cheeks with your hands, a needy whimper radiating off your chest, missing the downy lips.

and even though you still felt confused, slightly getting distracted by the make out sesh, kate was leisurely steering your right hand to ur dripping core.

a sharp bite to her bottom lip from the abrupt surprise had gotten her to stand up, interrupting the kiss you craved since she had rudely dogged you.

she sat down on the rolling chair in front of the desk board, facing your hitherto broken soul that was struggling to keep calm on the bed, hardly ever accomplishing that when you felt her sullen hooded eyes paint all over you.

you didn’t need to ask what to do, it wasn’t the first time. although, it feels like it from the dull atmosphere that was very rare to be surrounded by.

you felt your walls tightening, a slow frenzy walking across your brain as her sharp gaze was attacking all of you. everything in the room dissolved when you converged eyes.

she was looking at you, nowhere else. not even at your hand that was rapidly doing the job. her eyes trained onto yours, like if it was the last time she was ever gonna see you.

you couldn’t look at her anymore, because if you did you’ll fall apart miserably.

“eyes on me, sweetheart.” she murmured, tiling her head slightly.

you mewl as ur clit becomes nervous, tensing from time to time as you deny your own orgasms, waiting for the permission you await.

“mh’ aren’t you just so nice,” she flashed you a small smile that almost instantly disappeared, “so nice you practically let a man’s dick poke that ass.” she chuckled, a noise brimful of tenebrous.

you can’t blame kate for being sarcastic, i mean — why would you let a man even dance you away? you have a whole girlfriend that can dance wayyyy better than him. and frankly better in general.

“i couldn’t find yo-“ “bullshit sweetheart, we both know you didn’t even try to ask me.” kate cut you off, smiling with hoaxed pride.

she didn’t wanna hear your taciturn excuses that had no big impact on her. only helping the envious hunch brainwashing her good.

“all fours.” she demanded, rough tone ringed to your ears as you found trouble trying to prevent your legs from shaking. your clit was swollen, denied, and abused just now and you were sure kate isn’t that jealous, right?

you felt a little tap, and before you could comprehend, kate was dumbing you down relentlessly.

one hand clasped your right hip as for the other one was buried in your hair, yanking it to pull it back, giving her a hint of how dumb you instantly get on her vastly lubricious strap — soaked of your juices.

“aw, fuc’ kaaayy..” you whine, hopeless underneath her firm will, handling what felt like the worlds hardest thrusts in ancient history, or a somewhat record. it didn’t matter much when you felt her grin peck ur spine with no mercy.

she nearly chuckled, “atta girl,” she grumbled, soflty smacking your ass, jiggling all over her face. pushing out til the tip annoys your other lips, her thumb gathering every single drop of ur mess, “mmmh she’s s’ wet,” she purred, savoring ur sweet precum that was almost spilling from her hand.

every drop of energy was gone, letting ur chest repose while the woman behind you was in less than five seconds gonna make you (s)cream. just by not giving you any warning, she had rammed into you. hard and sharp.

it was almost life changing.

kate even hissed, ur tight warm walls pawed her strap, fueling a sudden wave of urge to fucking bite ur fresh unmarked neck.

licking a stripe on your earlobe, “on my birthday too?” you heard the intensity plop from kate’s tongue, soon to be chuckling as she pulled out, letting you breath for only a split second before she gasped a deep thrust out of you.

you had no pulse to feel guilty, kate was giving you a taste of her own medicine.

her right hand slithered up to your neck, grasping it with little force unlike her yawned plunges impacting your g-spot greatly.

“i’m s-sssorry—kate- fuck,” pathetic.

there was no use to apologize, you were done for.

she shook her head once again, pulling out to leave you whining, the emptiness making you push back for any friction. although, kate was sitting low against the headboard now, manspreading as she called for you with two fingers in the air, pursuing you to get in between her aroma.

you heel sat, submitting to the woman currently rubbing ur jaw with the thumb she used to gather ur sweet juices. her head slightly tilted, and with siren eyes she scrutinized the hell out you.

biting her lip subtly, she dragged her thumb in your mouth, forcing you to suck on it. you comply without any questions, eyes forum as ur tongue twisted all around.

kate smirked, “cute.”

she muttered, nodding mildly, a silent way of letting you know that ur doing well for her.

you beamed, and just then — she nudged her thumb far in your throat. no warning as you slightly chocked, coughing as tears brimmed your eyes.

looking up at her with shocketh, “making you practice for later ‘s all.” she shrugged, thumb no longer in your mouth.

“cmon, ride me.” kate instructed, nodding down as she spied you, gripping ur hips to help you steady on her standing strap, soon disappearing inside ur warm, damp pussy.

you cried out, sinking into the trap of kate martin.

you leaned back, one hand on her lower torso as the other one comfortably rested on kate’s right knee. swaying your hips back ‘n forth, presenting all of you.

“f- fuck,” you huff out, already starting to feel the plunging heaves of your stomach commence. aligning yourself immaculately on her cock.

feeling your slick cunt maneuver itself against her vexed reddened tip makes her head slightly toss back in the feral torture.

she brings her hands to your hips, messaging them softly, tracing the word ‘mine’ with her cold fingers. she watched you eagerly make two solid taut bucks against her.

“what? don’t tell me she’s already tired,” a weepy reproachful tone echoed from kate, and you started to whine in embarrassment.

“i- no- pleeeeassssse” you sang, both lungs ready to collapse. she’s huge - just barely you started riding her and you could already feel your pussy starting to throw a fit of tantrums.

from that, you try to slow down — only proving yourself adored failure when you go nimble. it was clear your own body was betraying you. your motivation to not disappoint kate furthermore was faint. 

you were sure—just one more single hard thrust and you’d probably break, “aw, your legs are gettin’ weak so soon. tappin’ out, princess?”

“ kate, ‘m cummin’,” you blurt out when she pinned her thumb on ur clit, rubbing small hasty circles, collecting every face you make. strings of glowy drool depart from your lips, letting her thrash the swollen tip against your g-spot.

“you gonna let me cum in ya?” kate slurred, her hot breath fanning over your bouncy boobs that had been giving her a show she wanted to watch again.

you sobbed a throaty moan, the insanity to have her cum inside you was something you craved.

immediately you had nodded, head thrown back as the idea of having kids with her cranked you up to make her cum.

“yea- yes! pl’pl’plea’!” you let off a plethora of sweetened fusses as her cock scrapes its way through your gummy walls onerously before you abruptly squall. “f- fuuuuck!”

a pretty, glistening geyser sprays out between your thighs, and your expression is priceless.

kate remained inside you as she watched you whine out those needy raw sobs, that alone impacting her to gush out her load, thrusting up as she breathed out a groan, your tightness bringing her extreme pleasure.

you couldn’t think straight—you could only taste the treacly sweet tang of fresh cum on your bud as your head flops onto the bed. “o- oh my god,” you puff, feeling your wobbly thighs soak with slimy molasses of yours’ sweet.

“m-mh’- don’t lay down, darling, m’ not done with you.”

an. feedback & reblogs are v appreciated!

[darlingshane]

Dumb & Poetic

Michael Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: Michael and you cannot communicate anymore without screaming at each other, but you've managed to keep that out of the workplace. Except for today. Your argument reaches a boiling point, and you have a big blowout in the kitchen in front of everyone. You end up apologizing to each other at the end of the day in the only way you know how to.

CW: +18, explicit, heavy angst, complicated relationships in the workplace, smut, vaginal sex, hate sex, making out, misogynistic comments.

Word Count: 2,2k

— Links: AO3 // Michael Masterlist

The kitchen is on fire, and it's not because everyone is working their asses off. It's only because of the heated argument you're having with Michael.

If your hands weren’t busy with the sandwich you’re making, you would definitely close your fist and sock him in the face. You don’t condone violence, but right now, he's earning himself a good punch. Breaking his nose could be the only thing that would stop him from relentlessly nagging at you while you work. There's fire in your knuckles already, itching to hit something. Anger is really starting to fester in your stomach as he keeps yapping in your ear about nonsense. You give him one more minute before you either swing your fist or quit altogether. It'd be pretty funny to leave him in the lurch with the show full of people anxiously waiting for their food. You're understaffed, overworked, and lacking better management. He knows it, you know it, everyone and their mother in the neighborhood knows it. And yet, Michael refuses to listen to reason. The only thing he loves listening to is himself talking.

If you had other options, you’d certainly drop what you’re doing and walk right out the door. It'd take you to be as much of an asshole as he is to just leave him stranded today. Unfortunately, you can’t afford the luxury of quitting this job.

Turning heads on your way, you yell at each other, going back and forth between everyone working tiredly on the tight kitchen space. It's not unusual for you to fight, but today there's a time bomb ticking that holds something inside more complicated than any of you can understand.

You knew mixing business and pleasure was a mistake. Yet you jumped, eyes closed. It serves you right, you're hitting your head against the bottom of the pool for not following your gut. You knew Michael was trouble, also your boss, and that didn't stop you from getting into bed with him.

Now everything is a mess. You can't communicate without screaming at each other. All the back and forth between being together and apart has burned the last bridge between you and Michael, and there's nothing you can do to fix it when he's not willing to do his part in helping you.

“Orders are piling up. You either move out of the way, or join the party. So help me God, Michael.” You throw your knife with disdain into the sink before you do something you might regret.

“You still haven’t answered my question. Why did you change the menu without telling me?”

“I tried! I called you ten times, and you never picked up. And I didn’t change the menu. I just added a special for the weekend to try it out. See, it’s working.” You use your hand to point at the kitchen window crowded by heads on the other side. “You said you were leaving for two days, and you were gone for over a week. You think that’s normal, to go on a bender and leave us to fend for ourselves? You got orders, bills, vendors to deal with… You're being fucking irresponsible. Has anyone told you that? ”

“Give me a damn break. You have no idea what I have to deal with. You've been working here two days and act like they own the place. Who the fuck you think you are?”

“I've been here two years, Michael! Two fucking years carrying your sorry ass around. You’ll be lost without me, asshole!”

“I'd be lost without you? That's rich.” He scoffs loudly. “I taught you everything you know.”

Now it's your time to snort. “You showed me how to make your stupid sandwiches. It's not like you taught me how to cure cancer. You should be grateful I care enough to do something about it.”

“It wasn’t your place! You added chicken to my menu. Beef. We serve beef.” He points at the logo on the shirt he's wearing. “Can't you read, sweetheart? If we start serving chicken, people are gonna get confused.”

You roll your eyes intently.

“I told you, it's just for the weekend, Mr. Beef.” You have to hold yourself back from throwing the wrapped sandwich in your hands at him.

“Yo, cousin, since when we do chicken specials.” Richie walks in, protesting, from the front of the shop.

“Ask the smartass here. Thinks she knows better than all of us.”

“Well, I don't know about smart, but she certainly has a good ass.” Richie laughs.

“Oh, look at your other half agreeing with you. What a surprise! That's sexual harassment, by the way, Richard. And you're late, as usual.”

“Take it to the police, sweetheart.”

You feel like you're the one who's taking this place more seriously than both of them. Perhaps you shouldn't even try anymore. If Michael doesn't care enough to make this place better, why should you? You're sick of busting your ass for nothing. You should just take a step back and let him drive this hole further into the ground.

Done with arguing with someone who doesn't even listen, you turn around and go start on the next order.

“Hey, I'm not done talking to you.” He, of course, follows behind you.

“Well, I am. Stop wasting my fucking time.”

“Not until you apologize for going over my head and changing things around without consulting me.”

You almost burst into laughter.

“The only one who needs to issue an apology is you, Michael. Not me. I've done nothing but bringing life into this fucking dark hole you've created. You're just too obtuse to see that.”

“You've got some fucking nerve. And who do you think is paying for all the chicken you ordered? Did you get a new vendor?”

“I know a guy. He got me a discount on the first order.”

“Really? Vendors I know don't usually do that. Did you have to suck his dick or something? Cause that's the only—”

He can't finish his sentence because before you know it, the back of your hand is swiftly flying across his face. All that vitriol that was boiling inside, begging to get out, ends plastered on his cheek that quickly turns red. Your knuckles hurt from hitting his jaw, but it was worth it.

Suddenly, you notice almost everyone in the kitchen is looking at the two of you, caught in the middle of the space in a standoff.

It takes him a second to tell everyone to go back to work. You can see him fuming, but he doesn't respond or retaliate to your aggression.

As much as he deserved it, you almost regret it immediately. At least you got him to shut up for the time being. You take a ten-minute break and finish the rest of your shift without more altercations or Michael pestering you, thankfully. You're not sure if you want to come back tomorrow. You're done with his shit. It's not worth it anymore. You'll have figured out something else, cause this is never going to get better, and today was proof of that.

Almost everyone is gone when you decide to have a word with Michael after closing.

“Hey,” you say, standing by the open door to his office as he looks up from the pile of papers on his desk. “I'm going to take a couple of days off from my vacation days.”

“Yeah, I think that'd be best.” He agrees.

“Are you going to fire me?”

“It has crossed my mind.”

“Well, are you?”

“Sit down” He motions at the empty chair while he stands up to close the door behind you.

“I'm not sitting down. I'm tired of arguing with you and I wanna go home. Just tell me, Michael. No hard feelings. We'll go our separate ways, and you'll never have to deal with me again. ”

“I'm not firing you, okay? Please sit. I have something to say.”

Begrudgingly, you sigh and sit in the chair with your arms crossed while he leans on the edge of the desk.

“Look, today got out of hand, and I'm sorry for my part. I shouldn't have said that.”

“It was way out the line. But I shouldn't have slapped you, either.”

“Did it feel good to slap me?” his lips pull up at the corners.

“Maybe a little.”

You both smile for a moment, but you know there's more to say.

“I appreciate you helping here, but you can't make decisions like that when I'm gone. You should have told me first.”

“You never listen, Michael. This isn't something new. I've been telling you for months. This place needs to change, or you're going to lose it. I thought it meant something to you, but hell, what do I know? But don't worry, I'm butting out from now on. It's your business, do what you want with it.”

“I highly doubt you can do that, sweetheart. You and I both know you won’t be able to stay out of it. You just love being a pain in my ass too much.”

No, you're done for sure. If he can't at least meet you halfway, you're done trying. You can't fix this place cause you can't fix him. And that's the main issue here.

“Believe what you want, Michael.” You stand up to leave, but he's surely not even close to being done with you.

“Wait, there's something else I gotta say.”

“What?”

He steps closer in your direction, and you almost flinch when he brings his hand up to touch your face. Sighing, you let him cup your face while he leans in to kiss your mouth. It's so puzzling the effect he has on you. It’s dumb and poetic. He keeps fucking with your head like it’s some kind of fetish, and you keep letting him for no reason other than you can’t help but caring for him. You wish you didn’t, but you do love him more than you’d like to admit.

“Your lips are moving, but I don't hear any talking,” you mumble against his kiss.

“Hm, I wasn't done yet,” he licks his lips and then the tip of his tongue traces the shape of your mouth before sliding past your lips to do his talking. You don't give in so easily to his dirty antics. He's going to have to earn it.

It takes you a moment to respond to the bidding of his tongue that moves slowly against yours, begging you to kiss him back.

You should know better by now that this won't end well. This is a path you've walked many times before, and every time you end up regretting ever stepping onto it. You should duck, run, kick him in the balls, but you’re far too deep into the mind-numbing rhythm of his tongue that casts an impossible spell on you to do anything but argue with your tongue. As the heat rises, the hunger of your lips locking becomes unbearably hot to handle. You can barely breathe when you notice his hands roaming all over your body, claiming it as if it was his.

“God, I hate you so much,” you grunt into the kiss, pulling slightly from his mouth to see the vicious red that has plumbed his lips.

“I hate you more, baby,” he huffs, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth as he presses his crotch between your legs. “That’s how much I despise you.”

“Not as much as I do.” You undo the buttons of your jeans before grabbing his hand and shoving it into your panties to make him feel how soaked you are already.

Dark eyes lock with yours as he viciously massages your whole pussy. Before you know, you’re turning your back on him, and bending over his desk, pulling your pants and underwear down so he can fuck you from behind.

There’s no time wasted, as you brace your elbows to the table, he smoothly buries his cock in your opening, collecting all your juices. He’s hard, and you're soft in all the right places for him to thrust firmly without hurting you. His hands grip your ass while the pace of his hips quickly drive you out of your mind. You feel every stroke and thrust rippling through your body, kindling a fire within your core. You glance over your shoulder to see him darkly staring at you before smacking your ass with his palm.

“How do you like that now, huh?” He snarls, slapping your ass a second time harder, earning a moan out of you. “Yeah, I know that’s how you like it, sweetheart.”

You then hang your head and let him drive you closer to the edge. You can feel his cock twitching inside you as you send one of your hands between your legs to touch your clit.

“What? You got nothing to say now?” He leans forwards to grunt in your ear. “Good. You look prettier with your mouth shut.”

“Fuck you, asshole,” you moan as his hand follow the path of yours to helps you take care of your clit as you both nearly touch that last final line.

With the help of his fingers, and those final firm erratic thrusts, you quickly come undone, letting your walls flutter around him, bringing him down with you. He spills himself inside, holding on to you as you and him are momentarily taken by that jolt of bliss that ripples from his body to yours and vice versa.

— credits: divider by @bernardsbendystraws

[dira333]

Dancing after Dinner - Iwaizumi x Reader

for @wordsofelie and @fuzztacular for the Milestone Event Week 2

Hajime has many friends.

That’s just how it is. 

He’s a good man, friendly, helpful. He might have a little bit of a temper at times, but he knows how to take a joke. 

He is, without a shadow of a doubt, the love of your life. You just haven’t told him that yet.

Ah, that got out wrong. You love him, you’ve told him, just not the extent of it all.

-

“And it’s okay with you?” He asks after dinner, his underarms covered in soapy bubbles as he attacks the aftermath of cooking dinner in the sink.

“Sure,” you’re on drying duty today, sipping wine as you wait. “Are you nervous?”

“I’m not nervous,” Hajime answers in a tone that’s decidedly nervous. 

“You sound nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.” He coughs, a little exasperated. You hum as if deep in thought. You could step forward and bite his nose. It would definitely pull him out of whatever 

nervous funk he’s currently in.

“So your friends-”

“Yeah?”

You stop. Hajime rarely ever interrupts you. He’s definitely nervous.

“Tell me about them.”

“Well, there’s not much to tell, really. We went to high school together.”

“Mhm, you’re a dirty liar.”

Hajime stiffens but then his shoulders relax and he laughs, in that self-conscious way he only does when he starts comparing himself to others.

Oh. 

“Well, there’s Matsukawa and Hanamaki,” he explains now, calmly, as if anything before hadn’t happened. “They’re menaces, both of them. You’ll love them.”

“Not too much, hopefully. I’m a taken woman.”

Red spreads across Hajime’s cheeks and he smiles, a little brighter now. 

“You can slap them if they’re too forward. They can take it.”

“Mhm, I love using violence.”

He laughs, softly and proudly, the sound rich like molten chocolate.

“And then there’s Oikawa.”

“Ah,” you nod. “The famous Oikawa.”

Stiff shoulders, a tense pull to his lips. “He’s that famous?”

“In this house he is, isn’t he? You’ve talked a lot about him.”

Understanding dawns slowly on him. “You have no clue who he is.”

“Should I?”

“Well, he’s a famous player-”

“Darling, Honey, Light of my life” Hajime grins, bright red and flustered, but he grins. “You know I only learned about the existence of Volleyball after I met you.”

“Still,” he insists and you decide to ditch your dishtowel and your wine in favor of sidling up to him, close enough that he lets go of the baking tray he’d been scrubbing. 

When he grabs you by the hips to hold you close, soapy water soaking through your clothes, you know it was the right thing to do.

“You know I love you, right?” You ask, resting your forehead against his. His eyes are pretty from this angle.

“I know,” he repeats low. “Doesn’t hurt to hear it again, though.”

“I love you,” you tell him, emphasis on every word. “It’s not you to be so self-conscious.”

“I am when it’s about something important.”

You kiss him instead of answering. Sometimes words lack something only actions can convey.

-

“Still nervous?” You ask when you slip into the passenger seat of his car.

Hajime pulls you in instead of answering, kisses you in the parking lot of what will soon become your shared apartment.

“Never with you.”

-

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[twentythree-yearoldlizard]

so based off the poll results, majority wanted me to write these one shots for a Marauders' Band AU. So here's the first one:

Remus Lupin does the BuzzFeed Puppy Interview:

Remus shoots the camera his shy smile that makes people’s stomach do the thing. “Hi there, I’m Remus Lupin and I’m here with Buzzfeed to answer some questions with puppies.”  

He’s wearing an all-black outfit: a black knit sweater that looks warm, paired with black trousers and sturdy black boots. His right wrist is adorned with bracelets; a plain black one with the word ‘moony’ next to a full moon, a beaded one with a star and moon on the centre and a band that reads ‘The Marauders’ with a wolf, dog, deer and rat. His left wrist is free, but he has multiple rings on those fingers.  

“I’m really excited and also a bit nervous, because I love dogs. I really do. But I want them to love me too, so,” he ends with a chuckle.

“I don’t know if they’re going to like me.”

Cuts to a clip of a puppy licking his entire face.

“I don’t know if we’ll connect.”

Cuts to a clip of Remus carrying two puppies, with another in between his legs.

“And I doubt I’m going to be able to answer your questions in any form, when I’m-Oh my god!” He’s cut off as a golden retriever runs towards him.

“Hi,” he says, letting the puppy smell his hands.

Remus coughs out a breathy laugh as the golden retriever jumps into his lap. Just then, a pair of corgis start nibbling on his shoelaces, to which Remus laughs and mutters, “You two are trouble, aren’t you?” They reminded him of James and Sirius.

Remus laughs for ten seconds as a Jack Russel walks slowly towards him and wastes no time on laying his head on Remus’ thigh and starts to fall asleep.

 “Hi loves, I’m Remus” he says, as one of the corgis joins the golden retriever on his lap.

Question 1- What’s your favourite thing about meeting fans?

“It’s just this…really nice feeling I get. Like I feel giddy, whenever a kid waves at me or some fans who’ve said that our songs helped them in tough times. It just gives this sort of nice feeling,”

“No..no,” he says as a corgi pulls on his sleeves, “this is one of my favourites, you can-okay then.” He finishes in defeat, as it manages to pull out a string.

Question 2- What’s the hardest part of being in a band?

“No privacy,” says Remus, he himself startled by how fast he answered. “I mean like...” he says, rubbing the Jack Russel’s belly, “When you live with James and Sirius, who have co-dependency issues, and Peter, whose love language is physical touch, you’ve got to throw personal space out the window.”

Question 3-Describe the way you see your bandmates.

Remus is quiet for a while, as if he’s thinking, while letting the puppies climb all over him.

“There’s James, who I connect with like a brother. He is a ray of fucking sunshine and if I am insecure or sad, he makes me listen to all the 764 reasons for why he loves me. And then there’s Peter, who is like the calmest person I know. He is the friend you need when you just want someone to listen to you. He is always there for you, even if he never says it, you’ll still know that he’s there for you.”

He smiles as the golden retriever settles on his shoulder and one of the corgis has decided to take a nap on top of Remus.

Remus starts with a smile, “And well there’s Sirius, who is one of the most beautiful souls out there. He’s one of the first people that made feel valued and always looked at my scars like they were some kind of treasure. He’s also made me realize a lot of things about myself and uh…yah, our bond is a bit more…special than the rest, and we’ve come a long way, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything else.”

“I am scared to move,” he whispers, as the Jack Russel snores loudly on top of his thighs, golden retriever asleep on his shoulder, a corgi on his belly and the other held within his arms.

Bonus puppy stuff:

The corgis start fighting with each other. “Am I supposed this stop this or something?” Remus asks, looking lost. Just then one of the corgi trips and falls on the sleeping Jack Russel. It opens its eyes, confused. Remus bursts out laughing, which ends up making his face as red as a tomato (and that's a win for all the video editors out there).

PS: Its my first draft btw. i guess ive done good. lmk if its bad, i need honest feedbacks. also gonna put this on ao3, which is my first time ever. and this is set in pre-wolfstar period or they are established but hiding it from public (choose whichever you want)

[rriavian]

It's been so long since I posted a fic snippet, even though I've got so many ideas nearly completed. The last 6 months or so I've hit a wall with struggling on final edits. And titles.

So please enjoy this currently untitled 'The Corinthian asks Dream for a strip tease' fic that I nearly finished months ago and has instead been sitting in my drafts.

-

The expression said it all.

Which, yeah, is pretty much always the case with Dream. Right now it’s heading somewhere past the usual definition of solemn and speeding right into outright stony, zipping through so fast unimpressed doesn’t really cover it. The Corinthian watches it settle over his face like a shroud. Oh yeah—Dream’s clouding over like a storm. It’s dignified in the way Dream always is, even with his pretty lips forced to one thin line, tense like he’s too proud to allow himself to sulk the way he so obviously wants to.

Dream looks at him like the Corinthian has just said the stupidest thing he’s ever heard, and then managed to find something even stupider to add to it.

Honestly even his disappointment is disappointed.

The Corinthian isn’t the slightest bit ashamed.

In fact he’s more than happy to prod, to see if he can really get some thunder rumbling. There’s a skill to crafting the specific insult he stitches into his voice. “You do know what a strip tease is right?”

Dream’s eyes don’t quite flash, but his tone implies that if the Corinthian plays his cards right there may well be lightning on the way.

“Corinthian.”

Ah.

Now there’s that lovely, tasty morsel of a warning.

“Oh, so you don’t you think you can do it?” The Corinthian mocks, all shit eating grin and cruel cooing condescension, shivering with the pleasure of testing Dream without so much as a ‘my lord’ for plausible deniability.

He rakes his gaze down Dream’s black clad form, over the black coat, the sleeves going right down to fall over the wrists, the high neckline of his t-shirt touching the delicate base of his throat, a reminder of what had started this. It’s modest. It’s practically virginal. Seriously even those tight black jeans are hidden beneath the coat, the perfect cling of them unappreciated. The Corinthian still leers of course, enjoys him right down to the ankles, then drags his eyes right back up, teeth skimming even from so far away, smirking the whole time. “So shy. So uncertain. You already put all those layers on, surely you can take them back off?”

Dream’s expression doesn’t so much as buckle.

Humiliation slides right off him. Pride though, well, that stays right where it is; a heavy drag at Dream’s unsmiling mouth, a torch in his glowing eyes, still just a precursor to lightning. Dream has a dignity so prim he makes it look bored.

And a criticism so sharp it cuts steel.

“This is inane.”

“Don’t worry baby, I can talk you through it if you want.” The Corinthian’s crooning tone is pointed, dirty, demeaning in all the ways that get a nightmare like him running hot. He knows his tastes alright, and this is one of them—treating Dream like he’s just a thing never fails to get him off. “You’ll be earning top dollar in no time.”

For a moment Dream just looks at him.

And the next he’s dragging a chair to the middle of the room.

One hand wrapped around the back; all manual labour, no powers bar the initial conjuration, the Corinthian treated to the sight of him getting physical with it just like a human. Dream positions it to his satisfaction, then steps back, gestures towards it with one flick of his head, imperial, still a king holding court even as he’s inviting the Corinthian to quite a different show. It’s unclear what changed his mind. Dream hardly forthcoming; remains so solemn and cold when the Corinthian chuckles, when he slinks towards the chair, stopping just short of sitting in it, arms crossed, smirking challengingly because fuck yeah Dream might actually be doing this but the Corinthian is far from impressed yet.

“C’mon Dream,” he croons, another assessing glance from head to toe. “Let’s see how well you can perform.”

There is no retort.

Just Dream hands rising to the collar of his coat.

The jaw is still set; firm, he holds disappointment a beat longer, a curtain call, a moment granted for the audience to find their way to silence. To ensure attention is in the right place.

All at once the expression melts seamlessly into something else; pouty, bedroom eyes, a come hither that damn near punches the Corinthian full in the chest. Tricks him into an inhale he doesn’t even need then lodges the breath right in his throat. The wild disarray of dark hair compliments devastatingly well. Dream looks the kind of hazy that only comes with a good, hard fuck, and the Corinthian feels hazy like he’d already been fucked, and shit it’s not even started yet. Dream is still slipping the coat from his shoulders, all long elegant fingers, all electrifying eye contact, times like these that he meets the empty pits of the Corinthian’s eyes like he can fill them at a distance.

And as always the Corinthian opens his eyes to take as much of it in as he can.

Because Dream’s full attention crams every spark of his light and cold darkness right between the Corinthian’s greedy teeth.

They haven’t even touched.

Dream isn’t even close enough to reach with an outstretched hand. The coat drops, a shadow left to pool on the floor; Dream prowling forwards—yeah, he actually fucking prowled—a stalk to his stride that has never actually been needed. It manifests here like a predator strutting down a runway, like a wild god, like a monster showing up to Paris Fashion Week fresh from the slaughter and taking to the stage still covered in blood. The Corinthian watches each deliberate step and knows this is how a demon decides to preen. Dream doesn’t stop when he reaches him, only slows, then circles, silent steps around him and the chair, right hand raised and near touching.

Not quite though. The Corinthian feels it still in how the air quivers just above his shoulder, feels it fluttering across his back, twitching like he stands beneath the beating of wings.

Or the blade of a guillotine.

[lunarmoonanons]

Fire and Salt chp2 Season 2

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

YN begs for her brother back and screams at her situation. Cregan and Jace start to bond.

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Masterlist

The air felt sweeter. The sky was bluer than usual. The wind felt soft. Everything was just a little better than usual. YN reached her hand out to the ocean’s waves in front of her, marveling at the soft way they crashed into the sand and into each other. She didn’t know why today was just a little sweeter than usual, but it comforted her. It was beautiful and kind. The day was just perfect for her. YN looked around, feeling like she was missing something. Someone. 

She looked up and saw SeaSmoke resting in the hills. She wasn’t looking for him, but she was glad he was near. Someone was missing. YN didn’t know who but she had to find them. But when she went to stand and leave, her legs would not move. She was stuck seated on the sand, facing the waves as she looked around for that person she could not find. The minutes felt like hours and the air got sweeter. She got nervous and paranoid that she would never find that person. Then the sound of a familiar voice broke her from her paranoia. 

“I thought I’d find you here.” Luke said walking up to her. YN sighed in relief and finally stood up. Opening her arms to him, which he responded by letting her engulf him in her arms. 

“I couldn’t find you. Where did you go?” YN asked and kissed his forehead. She breathed in his scent and smiled against his forehead. 

“I was waiting for you. I knew I had to find you first.” Luke explained and pulled back, grabbing her hand and smiling. “Come, he’s waiting for you.” 

“Who?” She asked. 

“You’ll see.” He was vague and started to lead her away. 

They walked and talked. Mostly about nothing, but it comforted her to hear his voice and see his smile. He was so gentle and so sweet. She theorized that he was making the day sweeter, he always could brighten her day. Even when she was cross with him, she could never fully hate him or shun him. Luke talked about his day, his time with Jace, his books that he was reading, anything and everything that crossed his mind. YN thought he reminded her of their father, Laenor, very well. He was gentle too. 

When the reached their destination, YN stopped in her tracks when Luke nudged her toward who was waiting for her. She felt tears break in her eyes as she saw her father waiting for her. He looked the same as he did when he died and he opened his arms to her. YN let go of Luke and fell into her fathers arms. He hugged her tightly and she held onto him for dear life. She couldn’t hear what he was saying but she knew he meant he loved her. Luke grabbed her hand again, making YN pull back and look at him with teary eyes. 

“Avy jorrāelan, jorrāelagon mandia.” (I love you, dear sister.) He said and pulled her into another hug. “Nyke jāhor miss ao” (I will miss you.)

“Skoros gaomagon ao nūmāzma? Skoriot issi ao going?” (What do you mean? Where are you going?) She asked and held his face in her hands. 

“Ao jāhor sagon sȳz” (You will be fine.) He whispered and wrapped his arms around her waist. YN smiled and brought his face to her. Touching foreheads and breathing in and out deeply. She loved him so dearly and couldn’t imagine a life without him. 

Her little brother. Her Luke. 

~~~

YN awoke with a start. Clutching the shirt her brother used to wear and breathing heavily and hard. She looked around and the room felt dark and sorrowful. Her fencing word was removed and her dagger was gone. She looked down at the cuts she gave herself in her despair. Gripping the shirt tightly, YN sat up from her bed. Noticing it was dark out, possibly morning. As dawn seemed to approach. But the world did not seem sweet now, it was cold and gray. The sky was dark and the air was bleak. YN felt a hitch in her throat and she felt her eyes prick with tears. 

She brought her hands to her hair again and started to pull on her silverwhite locks. Her scalp hurt and she tugged harder. When her head hurt enough, her hands fell down and started to scratch at her arms and palms. She wanted to hurt herself, to make herself forget her pain in her heart. She wished she was back asleep. Back in her dream. Back where Luke was alive. She couldn’t live in a world where Luke was gone. Her baby, her brother. And he was gone. She saw him die and she couldn’t do anything. Her dragon disobeyed her and took her away from where her brother was and wouldn’t let her retaliate against Aemond. 

Aemond. She thought of him for the first time since what happened and his face brought confusing hatred and sorrow in her chest. She wanted him dead, but also knew he was one of the only people who ever could understand her. She hated herself for caring about him and hated herself for not putting herself between him and Luke. She knew he loved her, but he hated her brothers more. How could he ever say he wanted to be in her life if he despised the people she loved the most in her life. 

YN stood from the bed and, while clutching Luke’s shirt, she began to pace around her room. Moaning in pain and breathing hard and heavy. She mumbled Luke’s name, thinking of his face before he died. His terrified sweet face. Her moans grew louder and she paced. But her pacing stopped when she noticed a letter waiting for her on her table. It must’ve arrived when she was asleep. 

Picking it up, she opened it quickly. Noticing the hand of Aemond in the words. It taunted her. He rambled about his love for her. How he didn’t want what happened to separate them, He tangented on her beauty for a moment. But his overall message was he still loved her and he wanted to marry her. 

In a moment of rage and sorrow she ripped the letter harshly and threw it in the fire. She began to scream then. Scream in sorrow and anger. She hated herself and hated her life. Her voice grew louder and louder, reaching the whole of Dragonstone. YN brought the shirt to her face and screamed into it. His scent making her manic and paranoid. 

Her door opened suddenly, revealing Daemon. He looked worried and pained to see her so manic with grief. He hesitantly walked toward her. Stopping in front of her crumbled appearance. He knelt down and placed a hand on her shoulder. 

“I want my mother… I want Lucerys…” She said in a strained voice. 

“I know.” He tried to comfort her. Rubbing her back and trying his best to be soft. 

Lucerys was gone and he left a hole in her heart. 

~~~

Jace had been apprehensive of the Northman when he arrived in the cold land of the North. He was told the northerners were harsh and brash people. Straight to the point in most things. But as he got to know the warden of the north, he felt a brotherly connection to the man. They dined and drank together the first night, and today on the second day they went for a hunt. Jace knew rudimentary how to ride a horse. He was more accustomed to dragonback but horseback was just as exhilarating.  

The two rode deep into the forest talking of their families and their lives. Jace found himself talking about his sister more and more. The northerner was interested in the silver beauty of the south. 

“Does your sister enjoy horses?” Cregan asked as he aimed an arrow at the deer near to them. 

Jace laughed and patted his horse. “She enjoys ships and dragons. Though she knows how to ride a horse, it’s been a long time since she’s even seen a horse.”

Cregan shot the deer and the two went to pull it to their game wagon. Jace felt a good connection to the man in front of him. Cregan shot a smile to Jace and the two rode off ahead of the party. They felt a brotherly bond forming.

“What does she like?” 

“YN? She likes the air around her face as she rides. The smell of sea. She enjoys the children of the smallfolk. Oh, and silver necklaces.” Jace explained. 

“When she sent that raven accepting my marriage offer, I was unsure of her intentions. But you’ve painted her in a good light. I hear she is beautiful.” Cregan complimented and asked. 

“She has my mother’s beauty. But her soul is an expressive one. You’ll get to know her when she is sent here to be with you.” 

The two continued on. Cregan mentioned an important place he had to take Jace in the near future. The two enjoyed each other's company well, and Cregan was more than excited to meet his betrothed. Wondering if she would enjoy the cold of the north. He knew he didn’t feel that love for her yet, but he was willing to get to know her and build their love and connection. To make them strong together.

@electronickingmentality @man-i-be-that-pretty-motherfuckr @grimmbunniee @ladyodium @uniquecutie-puffs

[bloodstainsontengensfloor]

This fanfiction.

God tier. And that’s not a pun. It sadly is incomplete and hasn’t been completed since December 25th 2022, but it doesn’t end on a crazy cliff hanger that makes you scream and shout and let it all out. However, ofc, it does leave you wanting more.

But it so good. I reccomended every reads it pls and thank you. In all my life of reading fanfiction, I’ve found that Percy Jackson AUs tend to be the absolute best, and this one is no exception