#but we are entering the time of year when my apartment turns into my city’s 5th beach

[myokk]

MUGGLE BOOK CLUB🥹💓

Since Clora grew up in a muggle household and Eloise spent 5 years in a muggle finishing school (reading was the only worthwhile part😤) they bond a lot over muggle literature💓💓💓 once a month they choose a book (lots of times repeat their favorites) and meet up for a coffee to discuss the book and gossip😇🥹💓

Clora is yapping a lot in the beginning but towards the end Eloise gets worked up too and they enthusiastically yell at each other about different plot points😇🙏

@choccy-milky 😙😙😙

[railingsofsorrow]

Recharging. . .

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: spencer's best remedy is his little family.

pairing: s.reid x f!reader (+ eden reid!)

w.c: 3.8K

warnings/content: fluff; cuteness overload; children; spencer is a girl's dad; discussion of a case; mentions of death and traumatic events; this is basically a hurt/comfort blurb; mentions of pregnancy; mentions of marriage; crying.

A/N: is anybody in need of some fluff? this was supposed to be a short drabble.... enjoy this old WIP as I finish some of my requests.

loosely inspired by ocie elliott's take me home

want to read more works about this au?

→ day-off

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You stopped the low humming to the song as you eyed the rearview mirror to check on your kid. The familiar scratching against your seat warning you she was awake.

“Hey bub,” you take advantage of the red traffic light to dive your hand back and tickle her bare feet. She'd always kick off her shoes the first chance she got. Your favorite sound echoes through the car: her giggle. “You were just napping, where'd that energy come from?” you refer again to the tip of her feet bumping against your car seat. Another reminder that she was getting bigger every day.

Eden raised her arms, wriggling her little fingers like she did when she was excited for something. You were pretty sure she got that from Penelope, you always saw they do this whenever she came over to your place.

“We're visiting daddy!”

A laugh bubbles out of you. Eden left you amazed by her perception of things. Although the route from your apartment to the BAU wasn't that strange for her anymore, given that you and Spencer drove a lot to drop each other off with her in the car.

“Are we?” You turn on an avenue, humming. “I didn't notice.”

Eden looks at you through the rearview mirror, “but you're driving, mommy. You need the GPS. It's in your head.”

“Is it?” You're amused at your toddler's choice of words. “Okay. Yes, we're visiting daddy at work. We've come to pick him up because he's very tired from a case and it's not good to drive while you're tired, right?”

“Right!” She nods vehemently, craning her neck to check on the view through the window. “And he needs me to recharge his bats.”

You finish parking your car and a smile curls up the edges of your mouth. Eden can't say the word batteries so she shortened it to an easier version which is bats. You still have to teach her what the word actually means.

“That's right,” you say, taking off your seatbelt and opening the door. By the time you reach the backseat, Eden is grinning like the Cheshire cat. Her excitement never ceases to rub off on you, even though you enter this building most of the days in a week. “Hi, baby.” You cooed, welcoming your child in your arms after unbuckling her seatbelt. Her light brown curls that you have no idea who she got it from tickle the side of your face as she snuggles to your chest to stare at the tall FBI building.

“Shoes on. Coat on. All warmed up. Shall we go up?”

An eager Eden exclaims a loud YES and that's enough for you to start walking.

From “Spencer”:

[6:34 p.m] No need to pick me up, angel, I can drive. I am not that tired.

[6:35 p.m] Is Eden still at your mom's? I can pick her up on the way.

This is the mutual feeling you have on workdays. Not in a million years you'd understand how hard it was to be away from your daughter for more than one day. Until it happened.

It makes your heart break when you're not able to tuck her into bed or pick her up at school to see her excited little legs run towards you. In spite of the fact that Spencer and you manage well to alternate days at work so she always has one of you close by, it's difficult to not see her every day when a case takes either one of you out of the city.

You can only image how much he misses her after being away for four days.

You left the messages unanswered and click on another chat instead. Light of my life with a bunch of hearts is the one you're looking for. Penelope somehow stole your phone someday and changed her contact name to this; you never changed it back, just left as it was, it suits her anyway.

“Smile.” You request Eden as you lift your phone to take a selfie of the two of you. Her grin exposes her two missing front teeth. “Done.” You kiss her cheek and adjust her in your hold to type another text, waiting for the elevator to reach your desired floor.

To “Light of my life 💗❤️💕”

[6:38 p.m] incoming at five... four... three...

You hit send right as the elevator doors spread open.

Just as you step into the bullpen, it's as if a switch has flipped because your daughter promptly tucks her face into the croak of your neck, her cold nose making your shiver slightly. Her hands clinging onto your blouse.

Eden gets shy under watchful eyes, no matter how many times she visits the BAU.

Penelope is walking briskly out of her office, her hands wriggling into your direction as she catches sight of you and the bundle in your arms. Every eye in the bullpen turns to you because of the commotion.

You haven't seen your husband yet.

“There is pumpkin!” That's the reason that pulls Eden out of her shell. She practically throws herself out of your arms and into her favourite aunt's arms. “Oh, hello, hello, my beautiful niece, whom I have missed so much!”

Eden is giggling and you can't help but smile softly at the scene. Soon, your friends start approaching one by one. It doesn't take long for Eden to have at least two new toys in her hands. Emily and Derek are competing which one she likes best.

“She's so big.” JJ entwines her arm with yours.

You sigh, leaning closer to her, “Yes, she is.” You say, observing Eden play with Emily. “Henry as well! How is he by the way? We haven't had a playdate in so long.”

JJ nods, “He's great, my sweet boy.” Her eyes hold a fondness that you relate. “And that's true. We have to set up a date, catch up on things that aren't murders and blood.”

“Preach, Jayge.”

Your laughter dies down when the two people missing from the group appear. Your eyes met Spencer's and his whole body seems to relax as if it physically pained him to stand and seeing you just helped him take a breath of fresh air. Luke greeted you with a side hug and was immediately captured by Eden's endearing spell, as expected. Although, once Spencer entered her line of sight, no one else mattered.

Spencer let his satchel drop to the ground without a care so he could scoop Eden up as she jumped into his arms. His sullen demeanor converting into a cheerful one in a blink of an eye. This is what Eden means by “recharging”.

You watch the reunion with a growing smile, deciding to approach them a little later.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Spencer says while peppering kisses at her cheek, her little nose and her forehead. Eden could only reply with giggles as her whole face became red at the overwhelming love she's receiving. “Daddy missed you so much, did you know that?” And the crack in his voice goes unnoticed by her, but not by you, so you take advantage of everyone's distraction to step towards your little family.

Eden is giving her dad a butterfly kiss when you get to them. That's her way of saying I missed you to any of you when you come back home.

“Hey,” you squeeze his arm in a gentle touch, grabbing his attention. “Tough one?” your question is discreet, only meant for him. Eden is fortunately too busy with her new stuffed toy that Derek is showing her to notice anything else.

The dimmed spark in Spencer's eyes along with the red outline of his eyelids are everything you need to know. You don't need words — you never needed words to understand Spencer — but he provides you a meek yeah and swallows hard. The only thing that seems to be holding him back from crumbling down is the fact that he's holding his daughter.

In an attempt of comfort, you pull his free hand to yours, intertwining your fingers and giving it a tight squeeze. Just for him to know that you were there and it's okay now.

He repeats the action, the corner of his lips pulling slightly. His attention is quickly stolen back to Eden, who starts listing possible names to the new friends that uncle Derek and auntie Emily had gifted her.

They discuss the matter until you bid everyone goodbye, a playdate, a babysitting afternoon and a girls night out scheduled. Trying to take Eden from Spencer was foolish, he didn't want to let her go. No matter how tired he was. Better yet, she didn't want to let him go either.

“I think grapes would be a great name, E.” Spencer praises her daughter's naming skills as he buckled her up in the safety seat. “What about this one?” He grabs the green bunny and places it in front of his face, his voice in a high-pitched tone to imitate an animal's voice. “What will you name me after, miss Eden Reid? I am green and I like carrots!”

Eden's bright caramel eyes glint with joy and she pulls the bunny to her chest, holding it tightly. “I know what I'm going to call them.”

“You do?” You were starting to be curious as well.

“Mr. Greenie.”

“You're so clever.” Spencer and Eden shared accomplice smiles and you see everything of him in her at that single action. It was in the nose scrunch whenever she found something particularly funny, in the spark of mischief in her eyes and even the outline of her mouth which you never stopped noticing from the moment she was born. Eden carried a lot of mannerisms and features from you but those things? They definitely came from him.

He's not even halfway to the driver's side when you steal the keys that he had stolen from you when you were in the building. You've known each other for ten years, for three out of those ten you have been married and Spencer still thinks he can be slick with you.

“You're riding shotgun today, pretty boy.”

His eyes are filled with amusement as you walk by and give his butt a soft squeeze.

“Really?” He says, leaning on your window. You had already turned the engine on when you give him a serious look. “It's a long drive. You already drove all the way here.”

Giving him an eyeroll, you muse, “It's not that long, Spence. And you're tired. Just get in.”

Quantico wasn't far from your home, but ten minutes in the road was enough to send Eden to dreamland. You were certain she had fallen asleep when her humming to Angeleyes, that was playing on the car radio, stopped.

You suppose Spencer has fallen asleep as well, until you stole a glimpse at him during a red light to see he was just staring out the window. A far away gaze.

His mind was far. You could feel that. You two enjoy the silence but it's not like that. This is not the kind of silence you want to bask in after a tiring day of work. No, this is different. It comes with the type of things you face at work, the voices in your head that claim they know what's best.

You know that silence. You've drowned in it once.

A gentle breeze caused a few strands to slip out behind his ear. He was letting his hair grow longer again. You liked it, it suited him.

“Hey.”

Your knuckles grazed his cheek softly, tucking a piece of his hair behind his ear. Your hand lingered at the nape of his neck and he let out a sigh, leaning back in a way that you knew he needed that kind of touch.

Good thing your love language is physical touch.

“You want to talk to me about it?” A whisper.

Spencer refrained from a verbal answer, but he reached up for your hand, lifting it to his lips to place a prolonged kiss which translated to I'm glad to have you.

“Not now,” he said, caressing your palm. Definitely later then. Your communication can be non-verbal sometimes and that's one of the great parts of your relationship. You knew that some days words were hard, so the touch and the eyes fulfilled the void of a voice.

He gave it a delicate squeeze and that's when you realized the light had turned green, so your attention was back to driving.

At some point, you could feel a comforting weight at your right thigh. It was the familiar warmth of Spencer's hand, something that he liked to do whenever you drove. Good thing his love language is physical touch.

“I got her.” He practically leaped out of the vehicle once you parked, walking around the other side to get Eden.

Your asleep child didn't so much as flinch while being picked up. You caught her little arms embracing his neck as you locked the doors of your car, her shoes on your hand and Spencer's satchel on another. He tried to fight you on that but you just ignored him.

“Sleepy head,” you mouth to him as the elevator went up. Eden's big eyelashes fluttered lightly when you kissed the top of her head.

The corner of your husband's lips quirked up, “Just like her mother. Sleeps anywhere.” He said, not breaking eye contact, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Rolling your eyes, you hummed, “Don't know what you're talking about.”

The apartment was quiet, an unusual occurrence at this time of the day. Normally, Eden would be rambling about her day when one of you arrived from work — I learnt about seagulls today and we made a drawing; grandma made cookies!; Teacher Susan read a story about a princess saving her kingdom, I want to be like her someday. Isn't it like what you do, mama? I want to be like you — a range of subjects mixed with her occasional endless energy of a child. Some nights, she wouldn't stop running around until she tired herself — and both of you — off.

Today was different. She was asleep before you even arrived home, it was way before 8 p.m and the apartment was quiet, no toys scattered around, no ink stain on the floor. She was into painting nowadays which is a rather messy hobby for a kid, but you'd indulge your daughter's wishes anytime. She is a kid, she should be messy.

“I love you, bub.” Your ears pick up Spencer's faint voice from the entrance of Eden's bedroom. You perched up at the wall, careful enough to make yourself unknown. Not wanting to disturb the little father-daughter moment. “I'll always be here.”

That was something that didn't need to be said out loud because Spencer showed that every day. He didn't spare love demonstrations regarding you or Eden, he never had. Although you know part of the reason beneath that promise. Some people haunt us forever, even when they are no longer present in our lives. His father still walks somewhere in the corner of his mind, no matter how many times you tell him that he is not him.

“Is the whole bathroom drenched or...?”

Spencer chuckled, seeking for your hand to pull you closer as you stride to your bedroom.

“It wouldn't be Eden if she didn't make an entire spectacle during bath time.” He said. “But I cleaned it up, so don't worry.”

“That's true.” You eye his soaked shirt attempting to contain a smile. “Guess you already took your shower?”

“You're so funny,” Spencer murmurs dryly.

“Yeah, well,” you shrug nonchalantly, slowly encircling your arms around his neck. “Wasn't that why you married me? Or was it for my good looks? Nah, it was definitely my terrific sense of humour, wasn't it?” A peck on his lips. “You can admit it. I won't be mad.”

“Ego the size of a lake, that one.” He mumbles, burying his face in the croak of your neck and practically locked you in his hold.

You started to message on his shoulders to ease whatever felt heavy in his chest. At least, until he let you in.

It wasn't until after you both showered separately to finally call it a day and laid down to rest that he broke his silence.

“A little girl died. We couldn't get to her in time.”

Oh, kids.

Now it all made sense.

A shiver went down your spine at the thought.

“Oh, Spencer...” if the tone of your voice translated anything, it was that you understood. His body was entangled to yours when you tried to diminish a bit of his pain by showing that you were there. “I'm sorry, sweetheart,” you said into his curls. The moist sensation in your pajamas top let you know he was crying, but you didn't give it a second thought. It was what he needed.

“I could only think of her and I—” he said shakily, suddenly leaning away to cover his face. “Any rational thinking went down the drain.” His croaked out, drying his tears in the harshest way possible. You pulled his hands away from his face, replacing it with your softer touch.

“Spencer.”

“I can't even— even grasp my head around—”

You cut him off, “good. Don't do that. Because it's not real. Spencer,” you cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you so he could focus on something that wasn't the disruptives thoughts in his head. “Eden is here, in the room next to ours, safe and sound.” That seemed to calm him down lightly, but you could see the conflict in his gaze.

“I wasn't fast enough.”

“It was not your fault.”

“You weren't there.”

You sigh, “I don't need to physically be there to know that you, as well as the team, did your best to crack the case, Spencer. As you do in every other case we have.” The hardest part of this job was still the loss that you had to live with. The guilt. The shame that, despite doing your best, you wouldn't be able to save everyone. “As we always do.” Sometimes, you needed some convincing too.

“I know it's hard to believe what I'm saying,” you forehead was touching his and your eyes were shut. “but it's the truth. You have every reason to feel that way, it never gets easy to face what we face every day. But, Spencer. It was not your fault. You did what you could, please trust me on this, okay?” Please, don't blame yourself. You don't deserve it.

“Our little girl is right next door, sleeping with her favourite plushie. Safe. Because we make sure of that every single day.” You know it's not that simple, to not doubt the dangers that run in the world, probably in your street, but you can't live in fear and you don't want your daughter to live in fear either. “And I'm right here. we're not going anywhere.” You won't lose us.

“Yeah,” he croaks out, releasing a batted breath. “Yeah, I know.”

Slipping an arm around your middle to bring you closer was the indication you needed to understand that he was hearing your words. Your husband settled for accepting your warmth for the time being, you were playing with his curls, gently brushing them away from his face.

That's all he needed, really. You. The home and family you have build together. Nothing else.

“You know,” you say, thumb traveling across his jawline until it reached the tip of his nose. “People keep saying she has your nose and I think I'm starting to see it.”

His body shook with laughter, causing his eyes to crinkle slightly.

“Oh, really? You're starting to see it now?”

Your lips curled up at the edges, “Yes.” You lied, poking his ribs, earning a glare. Your smile only widened. “No. The nose is clearly yours.” He raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

Spencer leaned close enough so he could press his lips to yours.

“She has the outline of your mouth, though.” He tucked a strand behind your ear. “And your eyes.”

Soft padding against the floor pulled you out of your trance and you knew who was at the door before looking through the open space of the door that's been left ajar.

“Is that a ghost that I'm seeing, angel?”

You decided to enter Spencer's playful undertone.

“Mhm. Good question, I think that's definitely a squirrel or something. Look at the red and yellow paws.”

Eden's mismatched socks flashed your eyes in the dim light of your side table lamp. Her soft giggling made you smile instantly.

“What are you doing up, sweetheart?” She curled up to his bare chest as soon as he scooped her up to hold her on his hip. “Mhm?”

She grabbed both of his cheeks, forcing him to lean down so she could say something to him. You observed them with a curious gaze. “It's not a squirrel,” Eden whispered. Spencer's face broke out into a grin, “tell mama it's me.” Spencer nodded and dutifully did as asked.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, acting surprised. “It's you, bub? With these tiny socked feet, I almost didn't recognize.” Eden's shrieks as you pepper her whole face with kisses. “You want to sleep with mommy and daddy tonight?” It's your turn to whisper as if it's a secret, but it's loud enough for Spencer to hear it as well.

Eden nods shyly, resting her head on her dad's shoulder. Her feet wriggling lightly. Who could ever resist those sweet doe eyes?

The three of you then lay down in your bed, Eden engulfed between Spencer and you. Hopefully, she wouldn't kick and turn all night like she commonly did. She was sleeping through the entire night alone in her bedroom, though some nights — like today — she would sneak in to yours.

Just like you expected, the toddler fell into dreamland with your soft chatter about random things you did during the day and what you needed to do during the upcoming week. You cracked a smile at her slight parted lips and wild curls dispersed on your arm which her head was laid on.

“Thank you.”

Your attention drifts from a sleeping Eden to Spencer. His eyes carried their usual light again. They now glinted with a familiar pride rather than the heavy darkness it was drowning in earlier in the evening.

“What for?” Your whole demeanor softened at the way he was looking at you, heart swelling with love.

“This,” he says, eyes falling on Eden. “For this. Her. You.”

You blink, the sudden urge to cry is being hold back by a thread. You don't know how to react.

“You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.” And he's said that before. When you first confessed and he said he felt the same. In your wedding day. When Eden was born.

“And you are the best thing that's ever happened to me, Spencer.” You manage to whisper beneath the crack in your voice. He lifts his torso to kiss both of the single tears that slipped out of your eyelids, caressing your cheek lovingly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, angel.” His mouth stretches into a soft grin. “And I love the life we have built.”

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taglist: @lilyviolets

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A/N: will never forgive the show for not making this man a dad.

[rottiens]

are we havin' fun yet?┊ s. getō ft. s. gōjō

✫ word count. 5.1k

✫ summary. you get caught up in the unresolved argument and tension from years ago between two old best friends.

✫ tags. (18+) — explicit content. no curses au, bisexual panic and denial, female reader + afab (the reader wears painted nails and has somewhat long hair), mostly geto-centric narrative, objectification, praising, cucking.

✫ notes. ok this is born thanks to the idea of this ask, a drabble that i lost control of heh. there are many things i love about this piece and i hope you enjoy it kiss kiss. divider creds: cafekitsune.

From food and video games to shirts and colognes, Suguru and Satoru have always shared everything. It's adorable, to a certain extent, how close the two of them are and how others perceive them as brothers from the outside. It's an unbreakable friendship that was born spontaneously when they were both little. They met in elementary school, when Satoru decided to share his crayons so Suguru could color the house he had drawn, and since then, the affection that began then has only grown along with them.

The only time the two were apart was during their time at university where Satoru was inclined to study history while Suguru, with his tendencies towards human relations and his great empathy, decided to study social psychology. However, after graduating and starting work not far from the city center, they both decided it was time to live together again, at least for a while, with the intention of saving expenses.

Suguru has never minded sharing. His shampoo, his food, his bath gel. So it was only natural to expect his friend to do the same for him, to share everything, right? Just like back then.

That afternoon, Satoru was returning to the apartment after a long day at work. The backpack slung carelessly over his shoulder as his footsteps echoed in the hallway. He unlocked the door with his key, which turned with a familiar, comforting sound. Upon entering, he was greeted by the scent of the incense Suguru always lit to keep the atmosphere calm and cozy.

Suguru was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with precision and care. Hearing the door, he looked up to greet and greet him, as usual, only the greeting died on the tip of his tongue, turning into a long sigh.

“Oh.” Disappointment disguised in a subdued tone, so Suguru decides to add. “You bring company.”

Again. He wants to say, but he bites his tongue and harshly splits the onion in two. You're here. Again. The friend Satoru has been bringing home every weekend for a month now. Suguru thought it was going to be casual, like all the times before, something that would last a week or two at most, because Satoru isn't the type to have long-term relationships. But seeing you here after a full month surprises him, no, it bothers him, and he can't explain why.

Satoru smiles, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air.

“'Hi, Suguru,” you greet him, accompanying your words with a nervous twitch that leads you to squeeze Satoru's intertwined fingers. You look adorable, and he avoids rolling his eyes. You're wearing a tight-fitting black knit-and-button blouse that highlights your figure, and a short black skirt that exposes your legs that he can't help but admire before focusing on his friend.

“Will you stay for dinner?” Suguru asks out of politeness and breaks eye contact with you to look at Satoru, who struggles to hold back a smile.

His fingers tighten around the knife just as a muscle in his jaw does.

“Later. We'll be in my room.”

Unable to add anything else, Satoru tugs your hand towards the hallway along with a slight nod that has you following him like a lost puppy. A few seconds later, the slam of the door rattles the walls and minutes later a pop song reaches the kitchen. It's the voice of a familiar artist, high and raspy, and Suguru wants to rip out his eardrums.

He plunges the knife down on the onion hard, hitting the board with a dull thud that gets louder and louder. Even over the noise of the knife, his thoughts, and the woman now singing another song from the same album, Suguru can hear it: those sounds Satoru tries to muffle with his hand, the breaths, the moans.

The hot oil bubbles in the pan rising with the anger cooking in the top of his stomach, the olive oil toasting the onions and garlic, while Suguru pretends he doesn't know what's going on a few feet away from him. He doesn't hate you, not really. You're sweet, you're kind, and he thinks that makes it worse. What really runs across his skin from the inside, like fingernails scratching a chalkboard, is the fact that Satoru doesn't talk about you. Of what he does, what he doesn't do, that he doesn't offer you as an offering from which he can take. Like one of his toys, like his shirts, like the other partners he's had before you.

It is the exclusivity with you that irritates him to such an extent that his thoughts corrupt him and make him completely forget about the garlic that is now dark and smells burnt.

“Fuck this,” he growls to himself, wrinkling his nose at the smell and the plume of smoke rising to the ceiling. Suguru scoops up the burnt ingredients with the spatula and pushes them into the trash can. He puts the pan back on the fire and grabs a new onion to chop. As he cuts, he hears your laughter, that bubbly, mischievous, genuine laughter that comes out of your belly and echoes throughout the apartment, as if Satoru is making you cry from the tickling. Suguru peels and chops the onion harder, throwing it into the pan once more, his eyes red and watery, his nose full of the peculiar stench of onion.

Satoru laughs, says something (perhaps in your ear, even against your thigh) that Suguru can't decipher. A door opens and closes. Then he hears the shower water, and the words of the song come through more clearly thanks to Satoru leaving the door open, as he always does. Suguru adds the ginger and concentrates on the curry, and on nothing else but cooking, showering and getting out of there. And that's what he does.

He waits for you to finish playing newlywed couple in the shower, takes off his clothes, ignores his erection and steps into the shower that still smells of you. To the shampoo you both share, to your perfume, to the minty toothpaste and- it's the first time it happens, as an irony of fate, as if life is mocking him, suguru finds your panties lying on the side of the shower, he is stepping on them and looking at them as if he has discovered something horrifying, they are soft, white and lacy around the edge and have a sticky, almost white he might say, fluid on them.

Suguru picks them up. He watches them a few feet away, he knows he shouldn't do it, he would never take anything his friend doesn't offer him first and he doesn't because his pride is stronger.

He throws them on the floor a little further away from where he picked them up, steps into the shower and cums silently in his clenched fist as he drowns in the smell of you.

Suguru wraps the towel around his waist when he's done, lets his hair cascade loose dripping droplets down his back and looks in the mirror to see his cheeks stained red and finally exits the bathroom.

You are with Satoru in the living room, apparently arguing about something, you catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye entering the room and closing the door.

Suguru takes off his towel and looks at his hand. Okay, he did it. He tries to justify himself but there's no reason other than, he thinks he has the right to taste you, to smell you, to know what has satoru coming back to you, so he brings the used panties to his nose shyly at first, full of embarrassment, but when he spits on his hand and starts fucking his cock harder he realizes as he sniffs you like he's a stalker pervert, he notices there are no inhibitions now, it's just you, your panties, his hard cock and his imagination telling him the different poses he could take you in if satoru would let him.

He cums silently as he hears the front door close and the shame returns to him as if it has always belonged to him. Suguru hurries to clean up his mess with napkins he keeps hidden in the room and moves to stow your panties in one of the drawers where he keeps his underwear, way down low.

Suguru's face is hot and his chest tight. His naked body as an accusation reminds him of the crime he just committed, so he moves to pick up some shorts and slides them up his muscular legs until the heat in his chest is descending.

He lies down for a moment on the mattress that makes no noise when he moves and stares at the ceiling until his vision blurs and he stops thinking and, then, remembers the curry.

——

The second time it happens it's not even his fault.

This seemed like a joke of fate or some divine plan to punish him for being thirsty for water he can't drink.

You are sitting in front of him, on the floor, legs slightly spread while wearing a satoru t-shirt too big for you which helps him discover that you have nothing on underneath except for black panties. Suguru can see for a moment how your pussy lips swallow some of the material and thinks of the excuses he can come up with to justify if asked about the blush or the amount of sweat pearling his temples.

“ UNO!” Shouts satoru victoriously placing the last card in the center of the floor and you feign indignation as you tap him on the shoulder, moving into your space, and flashing him again your panties. “Are you okay, man?” asks Satoru still laughing, he has your wrists clutched against his chest to keep you from hitting him again as you accuse him of cheating.

He was. But Suguru didn't care to discuss that now.

“Suguru, say something to him!” You chuckle slowly as you do when he sucks too hard on your clit and he leaves you breathless. He knows because he saw you, a couple of weeks ago when satoru was eating your pussy on top of the counter when he thought suguru was asleep, you were right where he was preparing the curry just a couple of nights ago.

Suguru closes his eyes for a second erasing that mental image and gets up, before anyone notices what's going on and is grateful for the baggy t shirt he's wearing that hides his semi erection.

“Yeah; it's the curry… I think, I'll be back,” he excuses himself.

The third time it happens Suguru looks around the room for cameras. This had to be a joke.

A pair of black panties were attacked at the bottom of the washing machine, mixed in with his clothes, kept there since the last day you visited them. Suguru knows he must return them and he will…. soon.

He slips them into the back pocket and finishes placing the clothes he will wash that day inside the washing machine. Then he closes it harder than he should.

——

It's incredibly hot, so he's not wearing a shirt. You're close to Satoru, as usual, huddled a few feet away from Suguru as you watch the soccer game. The fan is barely enough for the three of you, but Suguru prefers to stay away from you for his own good.

The game's narrator announces halftime and Suguru takes the opportunity to blink and stretch his legs. He raises his arms above his head with a groan, and his shorts are pulled down a little, revealing the beginnings of the short hairs on his abdomen.

“Man, this is getting boring,” Satoru grunts with a yawn. You two look at him.

“What do you mean? The match is 2-4 right now…”

“You've really given up already?” Suguru frowns, looking at the back of your head but unable to see the expression with which you watch your boyfriend… or whatever you two are now.

“Huh?” he replies in confusion.

“I thought you wanted to fuck my girlfriend,” blurts out satoru, as casually as if he's talking about the weather, his eyes now on the commercials playing on TV.

Suguru thinks that if he were still drinking from the water bottle he'd be coughing right now. Instead, his eyes widen to such an extent that they could pop out of their sockets and roll on the floor, his throat goes dry, his heart leaks out of his chest and a whiplash hits his cock. Satoru laughs noting the expression he finds comical. “Funny you act so surprised when you've always been so easy to read,” he says.

“Babe, come on,” you murmur as you stroke Satoru's chest in circles, your short red nails contrasting with the Red Hot Chili Peppers tank top he's wearing.

Suguru turns on the couch to get a better look at you, his blue eyes locked on yours intimidating. They always have. However, with a deep breath you steel yourself not to break eye contact.

“Why didn't you say anything before?”

Satoru smiles sideways. Hearing him say this last, you turn to position yourself perfectly in the middle of the two of you, avoiding the gaze of either of them, and fixating on the commercial about the energy drink they're promoting now.

“I thought you were going to ask, as usual,” he says with a shrug, still talking as if you weren't present.

“I thought it was different now.”

“Well, are you going to ask?”

Suguru pushes his cheek with his tongue and his fingers gently grip the couch.

“Satoru…” you warn, averting your gaze to the floor. Suguru notices how fast your breathing has become, his friend's long fingers playing with the edge of your denim shorts, sometimes hiding under the fabric as they scratch the fat of your thigh from time to time.

“Say it,” Satoru encourages him gently, looking up at you through his eyelashes and with determined eyes that mimic those of an eagle.

Suguru bites his cheek gently, perhaps to make sure he's not dreaming. He has a slight feeling that this is a trap, that Satoru is leading him to a place he won't be able to get out of, and yet he decides to sink his feet into what is probably quicksand.

He's always wanted this, clearly, and to have it in front of him, being offered on a platter for him to take and satiate his hunger- there's very little a hungry man can take.

“I want to fuck her,” Suguru spits and his voice doesn't tremble. There's a slight frown on his forehead and the summer heat prevents him from breathing normally.

You bite your lip as you watch Suguru, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten as Satoru continues to tease you underneath the material of the shorts. Your eyes widen slightly and your cheeks heat up, anticipation and nervousness mingling in your expression.

“How badly you want it?” asks Satoru, his voice barely a whisper.

Suguru closes his eyes for a moment, his jaw tensing. “I'm dizzy just thinking about it,” he replies, opening his eyes slowly, his gaze fixed and determined on him. He hasn't even dared to look at you. “I want to fuck her so hard and deep, you have no idea.”

“Fuck,” Satoru's fangs are visible for just a second, a wolfish grin warning danger. “Atta boy…” he purrs, sliding his fingers over your jawline to force you to look at him. There's something about Satoru that has always made you feel intimidated. His blue eyes, as deep as the sea, and his cotton-white hair give him such a peculiar appearance, he almost looks like the divine character from some book you must adore. His touch is firm, but not aggressive, and the intensity in his gaze leaves you breathless, as if you're under a spell you can't break. “You still want to fuck my best friend?”

“Satoru…” you beg in a trembling voice.

“Don't be shy, angel. If you can ask for it, it's yours,” he replies with an indulgent smile.

You had discussed this before, once… well, maybe it was twice. You remember it clearly because it's impossible to forget how the idea made you feel. The first time, you were drunk and thought it was all a joke; but when Satoru brought it up again, whispering it close to your ear while you were both sober and cuddled in the dark your room, you thought it was just a fantasy that would fade away and stay just that.

“You know… we used to share everything,” he told you.

The idea of being shared between the two of them is… overwhelming, to say the least. Just thinking about it takes your breath away; both men are huge, tall and muscular, not to mention how handsome they are.

“You know I do. We've talked about it,” you confess in a low voice.

Suguru barely manages to hear you over the hiss of a whistle on the TV, but what he does manage to catch makes his heart beat wildly and his thighs tense.

Satoru examines you up and down, perhaps looking for some trace of doubt about what is about to happen. Finding no sign of uncertainty, his eyes fall on Suguru and, with a wave of his hand, he beckons him closer.

“C'mere, Suguru. Don't be shy.”

Suguru moves like a magnet towards you, shuffling his legs over the couch until his warmth envelops you. Suddenly, you are acutely aware of the heat that has built up in the room, of the sweat on your back and the sticky feeling on your skin. The atmosphere becomes dense and suffocating, each breath feels heavier, Suguru's bare knee touches yours and the friction of your bodies makes your skin burn, intensifying the crushing sensation that overcomes you.

Expectantly, you both look at Satoru as if waiting for the next command anxiously, like animals about to be tamed.

Satoru makes an effort to pretend that he does not enjoy the situation, that the idea of devouring you both in one go does not excite him. However, he takes the first step and reaches for you with his hand, placing it on your cheek to force you to look at him. Lips half-open and eyelashes messy, you feel his lips pull you close and kiss you, filling you with a palpable intensity. Suguru beside you gasps.

Your boyfriend's fingers push at the thick denim fabric of your shorts and your needy core reaches for his open palm, swaying your hips in need of more.

Suguru doesn't know what to do; he seeks Satoru's permission, unsure if it's okay to kiss you, if he can touch you. Fists clenched in his tight shorts, he pauses to watch as Satoru's tongue hungrily thrusts into your mouth, creating a mess of saliva and moans. The intensity of the moment draws you into a new kiss, as his mouth fills with water, caught up in the maelstrom of desire that is unleashed.

In the midst of a new kiss that ends with Satoru gently biting your lower lip, he reaches out to grab his friend's jaw, delicately inviting him towards you. Leaving your mouth inches from his and with your eyes still closed, you barely make out the change in mouths, except for the difference in the way they devour you.

Suguru feels very different; his lips are harder and thicker than your boyfriend's, and his skin, rougher from the recent shave. Unlike Satoru, he sucks your tongue with precision. Each movement, though laden with desire, feels carefully planned, not so messy and the sensation of his mouth molding yours has your pussy soaking wet from satoru's long fingers now playing with your drooling pussy directly.

“You're this wet? Just from kissing him?” Satoru bites your neck and you release suguru's mouth to moan and expose your throat even more. “Such a naughty girl.”

Suguru's kisses mark the other side of your throat making you clench around the pair of digits with which satoru explores your insides, a couple of jerks of his fingers inside you has your back hunched for both of them and just as you begin to ride the wave of your orgasm, so close, the fingers are hastily withdrawn from you to show them to the room as proof of how wet you are. A long transparent string ties his fingers together.

“Look what you did to her, suguru.” Satoru brings the fingers to his friend's mouth who after hesitation circles them with his tongue with his eyes closed and face burning.

The heat is as unbearable as the erection in his shorts and suguru is grateful to feel some pressure on the throbbing bulge while still sucking on his fingers. You spit on your hand and cover his cock in saliva jerking it up and down, satoru drags his fingers out of his friend and sees the desire in his cinnamon eyes, lust overpowering shame.

Satoru spits into his own hand and curls it around suguru's throbbing cock, you masturbate his base, he swirls the sensitive tip, your left hand massaging his balls and the whole haze of new thrills and sensations whip him, and make him dizzy.

“Fuck you,” Suguru gasps with his eyebrows drawn together and mouth a distorted circle looking at his friend.

“Don't you want to cum?” you ask, innocent at the dueling gazes battling in front of you.

“Agh, fuck. No, not yet…” selfishness wanted him to continue, not so soon, he couldn't finish now.

“Oh no?” Satoru presses harder, stroking his slit with his thumb. ”Because you want to cum in her tight pussy, don't you? Fuck man, you don't know how hard she squeezes when she's about to cum, it feels like she wants to keep you there and have you fill her over and over again with your fucking cum.”

“Satoru shut the fuck up!” he yells through his teeth.

“Or do you want to cum in me?” as they both look at each other, his balls twitching, no words to respond other than pent up emotions from years ago.

“Please…” is all he can say, unsure of exactly what he's pleading for.

The waves of pleasure that Satoru's fingers give him descend, allowing the pressure in his lower stomach to cease, and he can breathe normally again.

“Stop,” Satoru says, kissing your temple. You obey instantly, getting Suguru to groan with painful longing, cock twitching visibly a mess of his saliva and precum. “Do you want to ride him?” he asks you directly, catching your gaze as he grabs the back of your neck firmly to give you a soft kiss on the lips.

“I do,” you reply, slightly light-headed from the kiss, the physical contact and the heat. Your breath brushes against his mouth and Satoru looks at you proudly, or so you think; you fail to decipher what's really in those eyes, though many times you can't.

Suguru lies down on the couch just as Satoru orders him to. He finishes removing his shorts awkwardly and hurriedly, becoming completely naked. It's not the first time Satoru has seen him without clothes, but it's the first time he's contemplated him in this way, almost like you are.

Suguru is handsome, that's a fact you can freely acknowledge. Seeing him like this, fully exposed, a sense of awe comes over you. His body is toned, with muscles worked by hours in the gym. His legs are covered with short hair that is growing, and a line of hair descends from his navel to his pelvis, where you find a tangle of short, curly hairs. The sight of his naked body is breathtaking, a mixture of strength and vulnerability that takes your breath away.

A few feet away, satoru jerks his cock with his own hand, long rather than thick, pale pink at the tip with a drop of pre cum in the slit and suguru, head cocked to the side and leaning back on the couch licks his lips in his direction watching him satisfy himself.

You grab his cock with one hand and then, the realization has your body tingling the moment you brush the tip at your needy entrance. All three of you moan in unison, connected together by the same thought and it is lewd, it embarrasses you but at the same time excites you to have the attention of both men pouring into you alone, suguru thrusts his hips upward in search of some kind of release and satoru takes a few short steps forward to admire the scene more closely, then sitting down on the ground a few feet away from you to better admire the scene he has set up for himself.

His cock plunges into you, thrusts and expands your pussy, spills your arousal around the thickness. Suguru is much thicker so you feel so full the moment you're sitting on him completely, his warm hands on your thighs massaging you up and down bringing comfort as he thrusts his hips to grind against your clit.

You hold onto his stomach like an anchor, feeling the sweat make your hair stick to your forehead and tangle around your face. Your hips move harder, riding him with increasing intensity, selfishly seeking climax. suguru finds your clit with the hard pad of his thumb and rubs it back and forth as you do all the work. For a long minute it's just the two of you staring into each other's eyes, the open-mouthed panting chanting turns to grunts and moans that gets lost in the noise of the forgotten match in the background; suguru struggles to concentrate on you, watches your lip being punished by your teeth, your tits covered by the thin fabric of the summer tank top and on the way his finger fiddles your nub of nerves lazily.

You lose yourself in him, in the rhythm at which his hips join yours; you feel his desperation, his hunger. Suguru grunts and carelessly grabs your hips to turn you around and place you now on your back on the couch, your thighs spread wide by his wide hips and his hands make prisoners of your wrists above your head.

You moan, with his forehead against yours and his body bending yours in half you feel like you might break beneath him, he notices, feels you tighten which makes him grin devilishly.

“Too deep?” He asks, as if he doesn't know the answer, pounding you harder and more precisely. “I like it like this, perfect for breeding you…. I like how tight you get.”

“Uh-huh,” you reply biting your lip, sharing the sweat from his frown.

“Tell him,” he orders you without looking at satoru, sharing a secret between your open mouth that can't be heard by your boyfriend.

You had almost forgotten him for a moment, too wrapped up in the fantasy. Turning your attention to satoru you realize that he fucks his cock to the rhythm in which suguru thrusts into you, he licks his lips as he watches you come back to him, to the giddy and disoriented and a smile curving the corners of his mouth appears on his face.

“Hi, angel.” Satoru gasps, “Do you have something to tell me?”

“He's so deep,” you gasp, suguru becoming more beast than human with every second you let him take you, caught up in the idea of fucking his friend's girlfriend, now you were no longer his property, you were his; his for that moment. He pushes back to get a better look at you from another angle and pulls up your tank top and exposes your tits, pinching your nipples without remorse.

“Yeah? And you like it?” you look back at suguru, the bun tying his hair back is starting to unravel, black strands falling down his back and you're not sure which one you want to look at first. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes…”

“I can tell… I love that face you're making, you're going to cum soon….. How about you Suguru, tell me how you feel?”

His eyes wander to your crotch, to your panties pulled aside so he can slip inside you, and he loses his rhythm for a moment as he watches his cock thrust in and out of you. He spits right on your clit for extra lubrication and takes his thumb to start massaging you, squeezing even tighter the tension binding your guts.

“She's so beautiful, and this fucking pussy, god…” his back arches and he rolls his eyes, feeling his own orgasm come hard. “She's squeezing me so hard.”

“Don't cum in her,” satoru warns.

Suguru bites his lip coming back to the present, the violent sound of wet skins meeting and the invisible steam of heat overwhelming him and urging him to take his own orgasm soon.

“Suguru…”

Another warning.

Satoru's voice sounds so sweet yet so commanding that it's almost annoying. It's just like before, when he ordered him things like he was his puppet and he was always so grateful to obey him, just to remain his friend. But you feel so good now, so tight, so wet, he doesn't remember the last time he fucked someone raw that nothing feels more like it now than filling your pussy with his load however, he forces himself to pull his cock inside you and fuck his cock on top of your stomach while you watch him with eyes full of adoration, he lets his cum run on your stomach making puddles on your belly button while someone behind him shouts “goaaaaaal”.

Then Suguru leans over, his fingers tangling in the mess that is your hair as his hair trails down his sweaty back, this with the intention of kissing you but he feels a brute hand on his shoulder pulling him away from victory, meeting that warm bluish gaze that reminds him of nostalgia.

“No kisses… those are another thing you'll have to ask for like a good boy.”

[hemlock-dreams]

Hypothetically, if you were going to write hunting!spider as a fic, how would you do it? Like, where would the story start—with Peter as the bartender, or his backstory? Would you flash back to his old universe?

-🕊️

Like this:

Peter hasn’t worn the suit since here got here. He hasn’t done much in the last two months of his new existence beyond haunting New York like a phantom, trying to figure out who he is and where he stands in a reality that hasn’t been unfortunate enough to have a Peter Parker in the first place.

Or a Spiderman.

Strange hadn’t been kidding about the magic. Peter feels like the victim of his own hubris, asking for a clean start, a world where no one knew him. He’d asked and he’d been delivered.

Almost. 

The world is there, technically, but it’s like looking at a painting he’s seen a thousand times, only to realize the details are off. It’s the phones with the home button on the bottom, the different slang, the green money, all his favorite songs with wildly different lyrics, so many painful differences- a slow death by a thousand cuts.

Peter thought it would be easier, like a new beginning stretching out ahead of him, the sea-breeze smell of a fresh start after stepping out of Ryker’s. 

But Uncle Ben isn’t waiting for him at the docks this time. Nothing is waiting except the uncanny arms of a city that used to know him. Like running into an ex after years apart, recognizing the same general shape, but being strangers all the same.

Damn it. He should have asked Strange to take his memories too.

At least then Peter would know what to do with himself instead of haunting Brooklyn at night like a ghost, fighting the cognitive dissonance of taking turns he used to know like the back of his hand, only to be startled when they lead into dead-ends or open out into streets that shouldn’t exist.

That’s why he hasn’t worn the suit. Because forget being Spiderman, who the hell is Peter, here?

His melancholy is interrupted by a woman’s voice, faint if not for Peter’s enhanced senses.

“Listen, you’re a sweet guy, but I don’t like mixing work and my personal life.” The voice is extra sweet in the way women get when trying to talk themselves out of a dangerous situation.

No matter the lifetime, Peter can’t ignore that.

So he changes course, beelining towards the source with silence that’s more instinct than experience. He sticks to the shadows, easily avoiding the few flickering streetlights between him and the alleyway. His night vision pierces the darkness, tracing down the detailed shape of the tall, lanky man cornering a woman in the middle of the alley. 

He’s leaning, off-balance, clearly drunk, and boxing her in with one leather-clad arm, “Come on, Scarlett. I been asking for your number for weeks. Just one date, give a guy a chance, huh?”

Well, it was comforting to know that no matter the timeline, scum remained scum. 

“Paul, you’re wasted.” The woman- Scarlett, is draped against the wall, seemingly at ease and deceptively loose-limbed, even as she fists a set of keys between her knuckles, “Why don’t we have this discussion somewhere a little nicer? There’s a cute cafe that’s open tomorrow-”

“Fuck that. It’s always one excuse after another with you,” The guy- Paul- snarls, swaying from one foot to the other. The frustration is a ticking bomb,  “Why are you bein’ such a fucking bitch?”

Like clockwork, the slurs come out, and a peaceful resolution is no longer an option.

Scarlett realizes it too, because the hum of anxiety lacing her syrupy-sweet tone finally bleeds into her body. Her muscles lock, visibly entering fight or flight. 

That’s Peter’s cue.

“Is there a problem?” Peter’s voice is like a knife in the dark, popping the bubble and making the two flinch.

“Who the fuck are you?” Paul sneers, face slack and ugly from drink. “The fuck you think you’re doing, butting in?”

Peter ignores him, glancing towards Scarlett, who flicks her eyes between them and the rest of the alleyway. Unfortunately, there’s only one entrance and he’s blocking it. Out of options, Scarlett plasters herself to the wall.

“This is between the lady and me.” Paul is still talking, stumbling towards Peter, “But I’m a nice guy, so I’m going to give you a chance to turn ‘round and walk away.”

“Generous, but I’ll have to decline.” Peter murmurs and crosses the distance, invading his space before the man can respond. The promise of violence always lights something in Peter’s stomach, but for all the man’s shit-talking, the fight, if it can even be called that, is pathetic. Paul is so drunk Peter can taste it in the air, and his spidersense doesn’t even bother kicking in as he dodges one wobbly punch after the other. 

He doesn’t bother dragging it out. It only takes one good fist to the gut to drop Paul to the ground, followed by one good kick to the chest to keep him there. The aftermath is anticlimactic, awkward silence punctuated only by the rattling wheeze of the unconscious man beneath him.

Even pulling his punches, Peter probably cracked his ribs. It would take more effort than he’s got to feel sorry, especially since Scarlett is still glued to the wall, eyes trained on him and practically vibrating with adrenaline.

Slowly, Peter creates some space, backing out of the alleyway so he’s not obstructing the exit. “You gonna be alright?”

“Yeah.” Her reply is curt and wary, but Peter isn’t offended. He knows what he looks like, looming in the dark with his ratty clothes and unkempt beard. Best thing he can do to convince her of her safety is to walk away. 

So he does just that, and he’s almost halfway down the block when he hears her behind him, clacking heels loudly in the chill night air, “Wait!”

Peter pauses, turning around. 

Scarlett stops a few meters away, clutching the strap of her gym bag over her chest. “Sorry. That was rude of me. Thank you.”

Under the streetlights, her face is striking. Her bright green eyes are smoky and sensual, with bold cheekbones and dark lips framed by wisps of red hair falling out of a messy bun. She’s exactly the type of woman Peter would fantasize about back in Rykers, the kind he would see on pinups in Marko’s cell- tall and feminine, with lean legs and a waist Peter could span with both hands. 

The resolute look on her face reminds him so much of M-

He shunts that thought as soon as it appears.

“Don’t worry about it,” Peter responds with a shrug. He’s not stupid enough to lecture a grown woman about walking the streets at night. “Was there something else?”

Scarlett chews on her lip, eyes flicking back to the alley before settling on Peter for a few long beats. Whatever she sees in him makes her sigh, and some of the tension leeches from her shoulders. “Feel like walking a girl to her job?” 

Peter is a little surprised, and he takes a second to consider, mostly so he doesn’t look threatening, then nods, “Where to?” 

“Maggies.” At his confused look, she raises a brow, “Saint Margaret’s?” 

Still not ringing a bell, “Is that a…church?” He doesn’t remember any Saint Margaret’s in his Brooklyn, and it just reinforces that fish-out-of-water feeling that’s been choking him for the past few months.

“A church, sure.” Scarlett snorts derisively, laughing under her breath. When Peter doesn’t join in, she shoots him a wide-eyed look, “Oh. You’re serious. It’s an dance bar”  

Walking at night makes more sense now. That, and the obvious stage name. “I don’t know where that is. I’m…kind of new in town.”

“I can see that,” She says, and the gold of her hoop earrings catches the light as she falls in step beside him. Peter keeps his strides short and even, staying in her line of vision as they walk. It doesn’t escape his notice that she’s still got her keys between her knuckles, though they’re no longer clutched in a tight fist, “What brought you to New York, Mr. Good Samaritan?”

“Peter.” He says. “I was looking for a fresh start and kind of washed up here,” Peter feels like he’s being called out on some lie, as if anyone glancing in his direction will peg that he doesn’t belong.

But Scarlet is just nodding, unawares, “Nice to meet you, Peter. And I get it. That's why I moved here, too. It might take a bit of time to get your bearings, but it's worth it when you do." They’re heading down the street, taking a turn on 81st that should have led into a main thoroughfare but doesn’t, instead turning into another little set of streets full of gated-off shops covered in graffiti. Even the gang signs don’t look the same. He tries not to think about it.

“I appreciate what you did,” Scarlett is saying, “Paul’s been a pushy bastard but I thought it was all drunk bravado, you know? I never believed he’d actually follow me. I’m glad you were there, but I’m sorry it had to end in violence.”

Resorting to violence is one of Peter’s favorite pastimes, but he’s absolutely not going to admit that out loud. Instead, he hums, tucking his hands into his stained hoodie, “Some people only listen when it's fists talking. Hopefully the lesson sticks.” Peter frowns, “You said he followed you, does that mean he knows where you live?”

Men like that tend to hold grudges. Especially if they've been had their head knocked around in an alleyway.

“Thank god, no.” She shudders next to him, gripping the strap of her bag a little tighter at the thought, “He caught me coming from my day job. I’ll have to tell Weasel to put him on the blacklist for the club though…and change my shift. Ugh.” 

Peter nods in sympathy. Shiting schedules between two jobs is going to be a nightmare. “Weasel?” 

“The owner of Maggie’s.” She clarifies.

“Your boss is named Weasel?” Yikes. Peter can’t imagine what kind of shit someone had to do to earn that nickname.

“Yeah.” She laughs, “But don’t let the name fool you, he’s weird but he’s decent. There are lots of other clubs in the area but Weas lets us have a bigger cut than most other places. Plus, we get to set our own rules.” 

They cut the street, avoiding some dark patches where the streetlights gave out.

“That’s good.” Peter agrees, “Otherwise this is a pretty sketchy walk for a small paycheck.”  

It really is a sketchy walk, and his spidersense pings at odd moments, though nothing comes out of it save the odd junkie that wanders out of the shadows.

“I’ve had worse,” Scarlett shrugs, finally tucking her keys back into her purse. The stiff line of her shoulders has completely melted away now that they’re in what Peter assumes is familiar territory. “This is nothing compared to my last job.” 

“Which was?” 

“Telemarketing.”

Peter would rather take his chances soloing Thanos. “Point taken.” 

“We’re almost there. Just down the road.” Scarlett points one long acrylic nail toward a looming brick building punctuating the street. Peter wouldn’t have given it a second thought if not for the single garish neon sign of a scantily dressed nun at the corner, directing his attention towards a nondescript door.

“Welcome to Saint Margaret’s School for Wayward Children,” Scarlett enunciates each word with an eyebrow waggle, grinning when Peter cracks a smile. “Finest entertainment this side of Brooklyn. Thanks for walking me.” 

Peter doesn’t doubt it, especially if Scarlett is where they set the bar for dancers. “No worries. Stay safe, yeah?” Then he turns, intending to keep walking until his head is empty.

Scarlett pauses with her hand on the door, “You’re not going to come in?” 

“Not really my scene.” A true statement, one that doesn’t have to acknowledge that Peter is capital-b Broke. Hard to get a proper-paying job when he doesn’t legally exist. He’s done a few gigs under the table, but the last few weeks have left Peter sleeping on empty rooftops with an emptier stomach. 

“Really? I was hoping I could treat you to a drink. It’s the least I can do.” Scarlett sounds disappointed.

“You don’t owe me anything.” 

She puts a hand on her hip, “Fine. Let’s consider it a celebratory drink then.”

“For?”

“Ugh,” Scarlett rolls her eyes. There’s no way she doesn’t know how charming that is. “For getting rid of Paul. Making new friends- whatever you want.”

Peter huffs a small laugh, “Friends? We just met.” 

It’s not an outright refusal, because Peter is weak for the first real taste of human contact he’s had in months, and Scarlett smirks like she scents blood, “What can I say? I got a good feeling about you.”

Peter snorts. Now that’s a first. 

“C’mon, Tiger. One drink. What have you got to lose?”

Peter exhales a long, slow breath, “Nothing.”

[bri-licious08]

Nothing to be Done ⊹ ࣪ ˖Bakugou x Reader⊹ ࣪ ˖

CW: aged-up characters, heavy cussing language, and ANGST Happy Reading!! \^>^/

Silence. For being in a place surrounded by clattering noise with people chattering and dishes rattling, it’s so loud. The silence. The thoughts rearing in your head. It’s frustratingly loud. 

“Excuse me miss,” The waitress called you timidly. It doesn’t take a genius to tell that you must’ve been stood up. Having waited for an hour for you to order and politely dismissing her stating you were waiting for your partner to arrive and yet the seats around you were empty.

“C- Can I get you anything?”

“Umm,” You nibbled on your bottom lip, trying your best to keep your voice from trembling and the watery glaze in your eyes to keep from trickling down your cheeks. 

“The bill. I’ll take the bill for the wine, please.” You spoke softly, lowering your head slightly while keeping your averted gaze from your kind waitress. 

“Right away ma’am,” She bowed curtly before she left. You raised your hands that were gripping your beautiful silk maroon dress under the table and planted your elbows on the table sighing into your palms.

“Your bill ma’am,” The timid waitress announced as she placed it gently beside you.

“Thank you,” you responded lowly. You tore your face from your palms and reached to collect your small purse holding your wallet.

“Anything else I can do for you, ma’am?” The girl asked carefully. 

“Besides getting my absent boyfriend here for a date we haven’t had in a year, nothing else, thank you,” You murmured as you placed 14,241 yen on the table and slipped an extra 2,800 as a tip as you slipped out of the booth, and walked to the exit with a hand clutching your purse and your head held high.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The sound of keys jingling in a lock can be heard from inside a neat and clean apartment. The door creaking open revealed you dressed beautifully with a frown on your face entering the home. You placed your keys in the key bowl on top of the rustic white wood sideboard you had by the front door. You looked up and in the mirror, you saw how ruined your makeup looked from crying quitely in the cab you took to get back to the apartment.

Your frown deepened as you rubbed away the run-down mascara before giving up with a sigh. You dropped your purse beside the key bowl and made your way to your bathroom. You set up a nice warm bath with scented candles before you relaxed into the well-deserved warm bath. After some time when the water began to turn cold, you decided it was time to get out. You got out and did your nightly routine before heading to bed. You peeled the covers enough for you to slip into as you turned the TV on and rather quickly, you fell asleep to the low volume of the television.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

With a racing heart, Katsuki rushed out of his office building at 12:56 am. When did it get so fucking late? Most importantly when did he begin to lose track of his relationship? How long had it been since you both went on a date? It’s his fault. This is all his fault. He just hopes it’s not too late. As he raced to his car he thought back to the conversation he just had with Kirishima, his agency partner.

“Hey man, you’re still here?” A rough-pitched voice called to the spiky blonde-headed workaholic who sat in his desk chair in the middle of a large office of a sky-rise building. The city lights of Musutafu blared behind him through the glass panes of his office windows.

“Tch. This shit ain’t gonna do itself,” Katsuki scoffed. His brows creased in annoyance as he glared at the screen before him.

“Yeahhh but, I mean,” The redhead started.

“You gonna spit it out already? ‘Cuz if ya ain’t I got shit to do,” The blonde growled.

“Uhh never mind, guess I got my dates wrong.” 

The blonde’s curiosity spiked as his eyebrows creased from frustration to slight curiosity at the man’s words. Kirishima picked up on his, ‘I wanna know more but I ain’t gonna tell you’ look and continued.

“Well, Mina was gushing this morning about how she was gonna spend some of the day getting your girl all dolled up for your anniversary dinner tonight.” 

“What? That pinky freak needs ta get ‘er brain checked out. It ain’t today it’s next week.” Katsuki grumbled.

“Hmm, ya sure? She said N/N had told her to go over to yalls place today. I heard the girls talking on FaceTime last night.” 

“Ya think I don’t know my own fuckin’ anniversary shitty hair?!” 

“Sorry man! You’re right! Don’t shoot the messenger now! See ya tomorrow bro!” Kirishima shouted as he retreated from his partner's office hurriedly and slammed the door behind him as he exited.

Katsuki scoffed as he wore his typical scowl. He returned to reading the reports he had to sign off on before his thoughts drifted elsewhere. Kirishima’s words began to get to him. But what would that dumb-haired idiot know? No one knew his relationship better than himself. Yet the thought kept itching his brain uncomfortably. Katsuki exited the Word document and clicked on his computer calendar. He scrolled around to find today's date and agenda. His eyes searched intently to find any sign of today's plans only to find none. He smirked. Of course, he was right. He scrolled to next week's calendar list and scrolled through the pre-made plans only to notice your anniversary date wasn’t scheduled on the correct date. 

“The hell?” The blonde scowled as he inched his face closer to the screen as if it would help him see more clearly. 

His carmine eyes scanned closely at the agenda only to keep re-reading the same things. No anniversary. His confusion began to spike. He gave up looking through his computer and reached for his phone in his pocket. He quickly pulled up his calendar and looked through to next week's date again only to find the same thing. No anniversary date. He gulped the nerves that settled in his throat as he began to scroll back to this week. He checked today's date to find nothing. He let out a frustrated groan as he tossed his phone onto his desk which jumbled the messy stack of papers that were laid out. His eyes caught something on his desk that he hadn’t noticed before. A paper with a schedule for the week created by his assistant. He grabbed it and scanned through it noticing something.

No fucking way. How the fuck did he tell his assistant to cancel that?! But then he remembered 

why...

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“D-Dynamight sir, Pro-Hero Grand has publicly announced a collaboration with the Red Riot Dynamight Agency for the big Mysterio Villian Case. Should I schedule a meeting with the PR group?” Bakugou’s assistant asked.

“Tch, yeah schedule that shit.” 

“Right away sir,” She began to dabble on her tablet with her stylus pen. “Fuckin’ annoyin’ piece-a-shit,” He grumbled as he ruffled his spiky locks. 

“What day should I make it for sir?” 

“Friday, I’m already packed as it is durin’ the week,” He groaned as he sat on his office desk chair. 

“Yes sir, ah- s-sir, it seems you’re unavailable Friday afternoon for your-”

“Just move whatever the hell it is,” Bakugou said firmly as he began to look through a stack of files and papers on his desk. 

“S-Sir? But it's your-”

“I swear to god if you don’t just do yer job and reschedule whatever the fuckin’ schedule conflict is so fuckin’ help me-”

“Y-Yes Dynamight sir! My apologies! R-Right away, sir!” The woman squeaked as she bowed repeatedly before quickly scurrying out of his office to avoid being scolded harshly further. Bakugou sighed loudly as he laid his head back leaning further into his chair. A few hours later his assistant knocked on his office door, and with a growl, he allowed her entry.

“S-Sorry sir, almost forgot to give you this week's schedule, I’ve already altered it as requested,” Bakugou’s assistant said timidly as she quickly hurried to his desk, neatly placing said schedule before him, and then quickly scurrying back out. 

Bakugou sighed, huffing an exhale before glaring at the ceiling. He just wanted the day to be over so he could sleep soundly beside his girl in the safety and comforts of your shared home…

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Katsuki rambled as he rushed through his agencies parking lot to his black Camaro with a giant orange X on the hood that matched the X on his hero suit. Scrambling to find the keys in his joggers and hoodie, he accidentally drops them, letting out another curse as he snatches the keys, unlocks his vehicle, and hops into it. His engine roars to life as he presses the ignition button, and shifts his gear down to reverse, the other hand clutches the steering wheel, and his foot steps on the gas.

The city lights fly past Katsuki’s vision and reflect beautifully against his car’s glossy paint. His mind is solely focused on you as he speeds through the streets of Musutafu. He broke hard at red lights before stomping on the gas at the green lights, trying his hardest to get back to you as quickly as he could while his heart raced with fear.

Katsuki Bakugou was never a religious man, there’s been times when he’s been at death's door yet he still never believed in any higher being, but right now he’s praying to any god or deity who’s willing to listen to his prayers that he can save your relationship from breaking. He knows he’s fucked up. He knows how desperate you’ve been to have one-on-one time with him yet he’s never complied. 

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“Katsuki why can’t I just go over to spend five minutes with you during your lunch break?”

“Because Y/n I’m busy,” He growled as he brushed his teeth. 

“You can’t even spare five minutes? Or what about leaving to work later in the mornings so we can eat breakfast together?”

“Woman, would you drop it? I’m a busy man, you know this. Don’t ya got yer own hero shit ta work on?” He argued. 

“I mean yeah but-” “Then drop it Y/n,” He growled before throwing some water into his mouth and gurgling to spit out.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Katsuki’s brows furrowed as a whine crept up his throat. His hands clutched the steering wheel tighter as his foot pressed on the gas pedal harder. He was almost home but it felt like he’d never get there. The 20-minute drive to your shared apartment felt like hours when he practically made it in five minutes. He sped into the driveway of the parking structure, smashed the pin code into the machine, and waited impatiently to be let in by the auto-mated closed gates of the apartment complex. Once the gates opened just enough for his car to drive through he sped into the parking lot, parking quickly with a harsh screeching of his tires breaking as he put his Camaro into park.

 He quickly grabbed his duffel bag stuffed with his dirty hero outfit, grabbed his keys and water bottle, and got out, locking his car before booking it to the parking garage elevator. Katsuki's furrowed brows and creases of his skin were etched with worry and nervousness. What will await the hero once he enters his shared home with you? Are you mad? Are you upset? Are you angry waiting for him with a knife in hand? Okay, that last one was a stretch but Katsuki’s just stressed.

For a year or more he’s carelessly thrown his relationship with you to the side, blinded by his hero upcoming to realize that just loving someone isn’t enough to make a relationship healthy. God, he’d fucked up. He fucked up so bad. He’s just secretly praying to whoever will listen that he hasn’t messed up too badly. He needs you, his rock, his anchor, his breath of fresh air, his love, and hopefully his future wife, that is, if you even want to still be with him. 

The sound of the elevator bell rings brings the ash blonde out of his trance. He quickly steps out of the elevator and rushes down the hall to your home. His hands were shaking slightly as his head began to get slightly fuzzy. His chest heaved quickly as his thoughts were overrunning with insecurity and fear. After a few moments of doing his breathing exercises his therapist, whom he was forced to see once a week, taught him to do, he exhaled with shut eyes before opening them and standing taller with confidence.

He unlocks the door and goes inside the apartment. His movements match the sound echoing throughout the apartment, quiet. He sets his duffel bag down in front of the sideboard and sets his keys in the key bowl before turning around and closing the door, making sure to lock it. His eyes scan the dark home looking for any sign of disorderliness throughout it. He quietly makes his way into the home and heads straight to your shared bedroom. He opens it with caution, careful not to disturb you.

It’s dark, the lights in the room are off yet the only thing that allows him to see you is the illuminating light from the TV reflecting onto your figure. He was cautious entering the room and getting closer to you with careful footing as he tip-toed closer to the bed. Your curled-up figure seemed so small and vulnerable to him as he approached your sleeping figure and sat down at the foot of the bed, careful not to wake you. 

He sighed as he carefully laid a palm on your calf that was covered up by a blanket he hadn’t recognized. Fuck, just how absent has he been. A soft movement of bed sheets shifting catches Katsuki’s attention. His head and eyes follow the source of the noise as his carmine eyes meet yours. You had sat up, you're awake. Katsuki's tough focade falters slightly as his gaze catches with yours. He gulps, making mental preparations for the important conversation to come. He chooses to go with a small icebreaker, trying to gain an understanding of what you’re currently feeling.

Katsuki secretly prided on how well he could read you and made mental notes of how he was doing a good job as a first-time boyfriend. But right now he couldn’t read you and that scared him. You’re pulling away, that much is obvious, but how long have you been pulling away from him? Can he stop you? Does he still have time to reel you back in? He hopes he still has time to prevent you from distancing yourself further. Please let there be time.

“Sorry to wake you, angel,” He whispered as he scooted closer, enough to be able to lean down to kiss your forehead, to which you leaned away from the action, causing Katsuki’s throat and heart to constrict painfully. 

His palms begin to sweat, he can feel the watery sensation begin to release out of his skin. He leaned back away to get a better view of your face. Just what was going on inside that pretty head of yours? He had to know. He needs to know how to fix this.

“Angel?” He called lowly, in a careful way to not tip you off. 

“Where were you?” You finally spoke. Katsuki could feel his throat dry so he cleared his throat and wet his lips, before swallowing the lump in his throat and speaking.

“Workin’...” He responded, his head low showing slight vulnerability to you.

“Working?” You repeated his statement with slight venom on your tongue.

Katsuki didn’t know what else to respond with besides just nodding his head as an answer. His lack of acknowledgment and speaking starts to get you bothered. Does he not care? Has he not have anything else to say? Probably because he doesn’t even realize why you're upset. Hell, he most likely forgot, it's the most obvious answer you didn’t want to acknowledge. Denying such a ridiculous thing because you know your Katsuki wouldn’t forget. He’s a very organized man, he would’ve put it in his calendar that he checks hourly, unless he just didn’t care enough to put it down.

Obviously… he didn’t mark it down. It wasn’t a special enough day for him to put on his calendar. How stupid were you? A year without a date or properly seeing him isn’t a sign enough to show you that he just doesn’t give a fuck? Missing your anniversary isn’t a sign enough? You’re a pathetic girl in love with a man who’s in love with his job and nothing more. The answer to your question has always been in front of you yet you always dismiss it because of “faith” and “hope” that bonded you to your love for Katsuki.

Now those ropes have snapped from him with the realization. Your last hope of salvaging this relationship, this love has snapped. He saw it. He saw a change in your eyes. A slight sliver of your love vanished. His heart was crumbling. His pulse was quickening and his palms were growing sweatier at the second. He was losing you. He felt it, he knew it. He has to do something, there has to be something to be done to fix this. He has to, he can’t lose you. 

“H-How was your day?” He choked lowly. Was he fucking serious? 

“How was my day? Are you fucking kidding me?” You hissed. How stupid is he to ask that? Could he not tell? Of course not, because he doesn’t love you. 

Fuck. Was that wrong to ask? Obviously, what does he do now?

“Is it wrong to ask my girl how her fuckin day was?” He growled. 

“Don’t you fuckin go turning this around on me,” You raised your voice. At that, Katsuki gets defensive and raises his voice back. 

“Turning this on you? All I did was ask how your day went or do you not want me to care?” 

“Fuck you Katsuki Bakugou. Seriously fuck you.” You seethed.

“What’s gotten yer panties in a twist huh?” He spat.

“Okay Bakugou, just throw everything on me because I’m a shitty girlfriend, okay,” You scoffed as you rolled your eyes and rose out of bed, making your way to the closet.

With angry eyes, Katsuki watches you as he gets up from the bed and drinks in your every move.

“Did I fucking say you were? No, so don’t go putting words in my fuckin’ mouth when ‘m tryna talk to you,” He growled as his brows furrowed.

This was going wrong, so, so wrong. 

“Well, how you're talking to me is telling me that!” You spat as you begin to rummage through the closet for something.

“Will you just fuckin’ stop actin’ like this, how do you expect to have civil conversations if yer actin’ like a bitch?” He spat.

Your movements came to a stop. Halting looking for whatever it was you were looking for. Your eyes widened as you stared blankly at the hanging clothes in front of you. Katsuki’s face mimicked yours as your back that was turned to him stiffened at his comment. It took Katsuki a moment before realizing what he said. His anger began to dissipate and regret, guilt and nervousness began to wrack through his mind and body. 

“Y/n I didn’t mean-” Katsuki started as he reached an arm out to you.

“I hate you.”

His breath caught in his throat. His outstretched arm halted its movement as he stiffened and his body froze in place. His heart stopped and his body felt as if he was falling. Falling fast and hard to the ground, similar to the time he realized he was in love with you. Only this time it felt like he was dying. His heart constricted with pain it felt as if his heart stopped beating, like he stopped being able to breathe. His skull felt as if it were crushing down his brain.

‘I hate you.’ Not the sweet ‘I love you’s’ he loves to hear from you. Not the ‘love you’ that he craves you to whisper in the crack of dawn as he tries to swiftly untangle your sleepy limbs from his. Not the ‘I love you so much’ he needs to hear when he wakes you up at night accidentally because he was a tad bit loud trying to sneak into the shower without waking you, just to fail miserably and go over to kiss your forehead and you whisper those sweet words after he’s had a long shit day at work. Not the ‘I’m in love with you’ you first said after your twentieth date before he asked you to be his. Not an ‘I love you’ but an ‘I hate you’. You hate him. Not love, hate. Hate. You, his only weakness when it comes to anything, sweet you who he adores although he hardly shows it. You, who he needs although he hardly proves it.

You who he loves more than anything in the world, although he’s never said it. Is that why you hate him? He’s been an asshole, he can see it now. Is it selfish of him, to want to keep you when all he’s done is hurt you? Probably, but does he care? No, because Katsuki Bakugou is a selfish bastard but he’s going to change that with you. He wants to change that for you. He has to because he loves you. Even if you hate him he’ll follow you to the pits of hell because he loves you so much. He hopes it's not too late, he hopes there’s still something to be done to fix this. 

“I love you.” He whispers through a broken whine. He hears the soft hitch caught in your throat.

He sees how the muscles and limbs of your body tense at his words. His eyes drink in every little thing you do to come up with his thoughts of what you must be thinking. From what he’s observed, what he said did nothing to help the situation. 

“What?” You whispered.

“I-I umm. I said-”

“No. I heard what you said.”

He doesn’t respond, just stands cautiously waiting for you to speak. He feels it coming, the outburst. 

“Why?” You murmured. 

He wouldn’t have caught it if he hadn’t mentally tuned everything else in the world out just so he could focus on you. He was good at doing that. Being a hero forced him to learn these things regarding the human senses. He trained himself to be a hound dog with his eyes, ears, and smell for the job. With that experience, he could always hear the slightest change of your breath whenever he was around you. He heard your response, now he has to figure out what you mean by why and come up with a good response to save this relationship. 

“What do you mean why? Because yer my girlfriend that’s why,” He scoffed. God his cursed fucking mouth. 

“Just because I’m your girlfriend?” You repeated lowly.

Katsuki’s guard keeps going on higher and higher alert which he didn’t know was possible. It worried him. He didn’t respond, didn’t know what to respond with, so he waited for you to speak. 

“You say you love me but you only love me because I’m your girlfriend?” You snapped as you turned around to face him, causing his body to snap straight up at your sudden outburst. 

“You don’t love me because I’m hard-headed yet so calming. Because I’m rude but so loving. Or because I’m ruthless but so caring, or emotionally unavailable yet so emotional, or rough and tough yet so soft and gentle or scary looking yet so soft looking, or rough around the edges yet mushy in the center, or a bully yet sincere or mean yet kind or cocky yet insecure or brave yet fearful or clever but stupid or clean yet dirty or organized yet unorganized or active yet lazy or hygienic yet sometimes unhygienic or strong yet soft or ambitious yet negative or because you set goals so high the world can’t see them yet you go above and beyond to reach them, or because you inspire those around you without meaning to or because you strive for something so great and you work so hard to achieve it or because you don’t let anything stand in the way to get what you want or because you’re so beautiful and I don’t mean from the outside but the inside because Katsuki you are incredibly beautiful inside and out and that’s why I love you…I love you for all of those reasons because it makes you, you, and I love that, I love you. But if you can’t give me one simple fucking reason why you love me besides the fact that I’m your girlfriend then I don’t want to be anymore… because that just proves this relationship has been one-sided this whole time. I’m tired Katsuki… I’m tired of the late nights with no contact from you. I’m tired of always coming second and putting all the effort into this relationship to keep it from tearing but it’s already been torn. I am tired Katsuki. I’m done being tired.” Your broken voice broke him. 

He tried and tried and tried so hard to keep himself strong but with everything you said, explaining every detail of him down to the bone broke him. For the first time in a very long time, Katsuki Bakugou broke down. His face instantly contorted to anguish as hot fat tears spouted down his soft cheeks. His arm quickly came up to cover his eyes from you as his unoccupied hand gripped at his shirt where his heart was. His knees buckled as he fell to the ground still sobbing. His emotions were running wild with absolute adoration for you yet he was heartbroken. You love him. A complete asshole who’s done nothing but hurt you, you love him, but he couldn’t love you as you deserved and now he’s going to lose you forever. 

“I’m sorry!” He howled through choked sobs.

As he peered up to look at you, you weren’t there. He quickly got up and wiped his tears away as he scanned the room. His ears caught the sound of a heavy plop sound coming from the living room. He hurried to the noise source as he saw you stuffing a sweater into a duffel bag. The alarms in his head stopped as his mind came to a realization. You were leaving. He quickly went to you. 

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked with a demanding tone. You didn’t respond, just continued to stuff some things you had laid out on the couch. 

“Y/n I’m talking to you!” He called for you louder as he reached to snatch your wrist to prevent you from packing your things further. 

“Let go of me!”

“Not until you talk to me!” “I did talk!”

“Well yeah but-”

“No Bakugou, you forced me to talk earlier so I did and now I’m leaving. I spoke my peace, I got nothing more to say to you.”

“Well, I got way more to say to you, but I need you here to say it.” He growled, yet his eyes showed panic.

The slight shaking of his arm and hand, which kept you firmly in place from leaving, caught your attention as you looked into his eyes and down at his hand that gripped your wrist. You nodded slightly, causing Bakugou to loosen his grip. You took that slight change to snatch your wrist back. Katsuki stared down at you with a vulnerability you’ve never seen before.

“What Bakugou?” You asked with a tiredness to your tone.

Your shoulders slumped and your eyes drooped. You're tired. He can see it. The slight black dusting your eye bags. Your eyebrows creased to show your exhaustion. He sees it, your love dissipating. It makes him tremble. He doesn’t miss the name you address him as. His last name. No loving nickname. No first name. Just Bakugou. His last name. Something strangers address him as. The last name he wanted to share with you. Was it too late? Is it too late to still give it to you?

He wanted to propose to you. He wanted you to carry his last name. Wanted to share a deeper bond through marriage. Wanted to share new experiences as a bonded pair through golden rings. He had everything planned for your fifth anniversary. He fucked it up. Katsuki didn’t believe in love until he met you. The love that is now one-sided. He knew he’d been unfair these last few months. No, it’s been longer than that. He knew it, he just didn’t want to believe how shitty he’s been. As a very prideful and cocky man who prides himself on being the best in every aspect, he didn’t want to believe he failed. No, that’s not what’s eating at him. It’s that the one good thing he had in his life was leaving. Fleeting and he’s scared of the unknown.

In the hero industry, he excelled at foresight. He always had plans to be one step ahead, and always had an idea of what would happen next. Now he’s got no clue what’s going to happen and that scares him because it’s about you. He wants you more than anything and he knows that now. He doesn’t want to lose you. He’s known that but he didn’t show it and now you’ve reached your breaking point and he’s so fucking scared of a life without himself by your side. 

“Please. Y/n I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for everything.” He said lowly with a break to his words.

You stood there watching your- watching Bakugou break. You did this. The great Dynamight who’s notorious for his strength and unvulnerability is broken before you. Some twisted part of you isn’t even empathetic towards him. You’re glad he’s hurting as you have been for the past year. Yet the part that loves him is aching. The inner battle of turmoil is clouding your judgment. 

“I’ve been an asshole. I know that- I see that now-”

“So what? Did it have to take you losing me to see that?” Bakugou’s lips pursed tight and wobbled slightly. Loose you? Was this truly it? Did he really lose you? 

“Please. Please, I’m sorry Y/n. I’m sorry for everything-!” 

“And what exactly are you sorry for? Do you even have the slightest understanding of why you’re even sorry?” You shouted with tears brimming your eyes. 

“For being an asshole! For being a horrible shitty fucking boyfriend! For being negligent and absent and expecting everything from you and giving you nothing from me! I see now how I’ve treated you and I know now how horrible of me that is and I’m sorry!” Bakugou rasped with tears.

Tears he’s vowed he’d never shed but are now sprouting from his eyes. Falling to his knees he sinks into himself as he crumbles. His world seemed to crumble down to ash. This is what he was good at. Destruction. Destroying anything and everything he touches. His quirk that he prides himself with, the quirk of explosion that makes Bakugou Katsuki, Bakugou Katsuki, was now seeming to feel like a curse rather than a blessing.

Katsuki flinches as his senses reel him back into reality from the soft touch of your fingers against his cheeks. His eyes drink in your face, the crease of your brows furrowed into an expression of sadness and worry. The puffy redness around your eyes hints at you crying. The tip of your nose is red and your lashes are slightly damp. God, you were truly beautiful. A gorgeous woman he had the liberty to call his at one point. At least he got that. Though his heart will never be satisfied with that. 

“Thank you for the apology.” You said so softly.

The soothing tone he loved to hear. Lately, it was the only tone of voice you’d speak since he would only return home to you at ungodly late hours. The tone you called his name with when you were half asleep. So melodic. 

“I love you,” He rasped as his body moved to hold yours, but you stopped him.

Your hands reached out to keep him at a distance by his shoulders. His gaze fell to your hands that pressed on his shoulders and back up to your face in confusion. 

“I can’t,” you whispered. Katsuki felt his heart twist painfully again. 

“You, can’t?” 

“Oh, Katsuki. It’s not that easy anymore. We can’t just fix everything with a simple apology and an “I love you” and expect everything to be perfect.” You sighed as you returned your hands to your side and avoided his gaze in defeat. 

“I know that. I do. That’s why I’m willing to do whatever I have to to fix this. Us. For us.” He announced as he slowly reached for your hand to hold in his. You noticed and quickly moved your hand away from his. 

“No Katsuki you don’t get it. It’s not simple at all. This situation. Our relationship. It’s non-existent. I can’t live like this anymore.”

“Then, then tell me what to do. Tell me what I can do to fix it and I will. I’ll do it in a heartbeat. Please.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You can baby. Anything you need from me, just tell me so I can fix this. I can’t lose you Y/n, please. He whined.

“I can’t Katsuki.” “Yes, you can! Please! Please Y/n. Just-just tell me what I can do to fix us. To save us! C’mon Y/n, please! Just tell me what I can do! There has to be something I can still do to save us! Please!” 

“I can’t!” “Why?! Why can’t you?! There has to be something to be done still please baby!”

“I can’t because there’s nothing to be done Katsuki!” There it was. The final tether of the string that tied your hearts together, it snapped. 

“Nothing?” You didn’t respond. Just kept avoiding eye contact. Trying to focus on anything but him. 

“Is this really it?” He murmured, although he was more so speaking to himself.

The disbelief. The refusal to accept it. The denial. His heart can’t. It’s refusing to accept the loss of you. It’s crying, screaming, threatening to rip out of his chest and rush to yours. To hug and hold your heart and beat warmly once again. But Katsuki has to resist, to hold it back and keep it in its ribcage, locked up. Forever in solitude as it deserves, as he deserves. He can’t blame you. He’s been so fucking awful to you. He can’t blame you, judge you, not even think about hating you, but it doesn’t mean he has to be okay with it. He’s not sure if he’d ever be. 

“I’m sorry. There’s just nothing else to be done anymore. It’s over.” You said softly with a crack at the end of your sentence.

Katsuki knows you love him. But the damage he’s made has been done and he’s pushed past your limit. He understands. But even with knowing his heart can’t stop it’s yearning for you. 

“I’m sorry.” He said, just merely above a whisper.

Loud enough for you to just catch it. You finally decide to look up at him and you see just how disheveled he looks, how broken he seems, and he is. It’s felt like hours. Perhaps it has been. It’s been hours since you left. Left him here, alone. Hours since he’s moved from the floor. He’s still sitting on the cold wood floor since the argument. He can’t find the energy to move. How long has it been? He doesn’t know and doesn’t care to find out. His gaze drifts to the windows of the apartment and notices the dark sky. Fuck, it’s late. It’s been a whole day yet all he can think about was what happened hours prior. His eyes move to look for his phone.

Finally having some sort of motivation drives his body to get up and search for his phone. He finds it on the kitchen counter. He turns his phone over and the first thing he’s greeted with is his lock screen picture of you and him, smiling like idiots in love. He fights so hard to keep the dam he worked hard to build over the past hours to stay up. With a hard deep breath, he wills himself to unlock his phone and takes off the Do Not Disturb. His phone instantly floods with notifications, messages, and missed calls, none of which were from you. His eyes scanned to see most texts were about his whereabouts from work employees such as his PR team, assistant, weird hair, and the nerd.

Instead of reapplying the Do Not Disturb, Katsuki just shuts his phone off completely. He has no use for it. He also wouldn’t like to see the reminder of what he once had on it either. He tosses his phone back onto the kitchen counter and takes a good, hard look around the place. It’s the same as it has been for years. It’s changed since you and him first bought it. Aside from all the hard work you put into decorating it, it’s still the same. Only now it feels emptier than it had been the day you both first moved in.

Katsuki takes the time to actually take in his surroundings and notices just how much the space has changed. His entire home looked more feminine yet empty. As if only one person lived here. Slowly his shared home with you began to look like just a home for you. Slowly things that made the home for you both began to disappear. The little decorations that he added for slight touches of his personality to blend with yours were now gone and all he could see was you. You surrounded this space and it frightened him because he’s now realizing he had been pushed out of your heart and mind completely for far longer than he’s realized. You drew all thoughts of him away by removing everything that made the home him and you to just you. Maybe in doing so it dulled the ace of him being a dead-beat boyfriend.

He wouldn’t blame you if that were the reason, it just doesn’t dull the ache within. Katsuki heads to the bedroom and slowly opens the door. As he enters the room he notices the changes that had been made. The silk black sheets he bought years ago now changed to white silk ones. The bed frame is new, and the mirror in the corner of the room is new as well. The tv is larger than the previous one and the blankets are a different color as well. God fucking dammit, he’s been sleeping here for five years, sharing a home with you was the best thing to experience but even though he’s been here he wasn’t truly here. Absent-minded living has driven you away and he can see why. He’s not noticed a thing that’s been going on under his roof. Even under his fucking nose for crying out loud.

He’s angry. All his emotions are building up. Fueling the giant pit of fire in his belly. The surging flames explode up the tubes of his veins, flowing into his brain. The flaming bursts of emotions kept fueling into his mind until it overflowed to be too much and then, he exploded. Crackling and thundering echoed throughout the walls of the apartment. Loud booming and thudding hallowing like a storm. Red. Nothing but red is all he can see. Red is all he sees as he grabs and throws anything he can grab a hold of. Red is all he sees as he blows up anything and everything in his path. Red is all he sees as he repeatedly pounds his fist against the wall.

Blue is all he sees when images of you pop up in his head. Blue is all he sees when he blinks his tears away. Blue is all he sees when he closes his eyes and slides his slumped body down against the wall that is bloody and charred. Black is all he sees when his exhausted body succumbs to the sleep he so desperately needs. When he sleeps, he can dream.

When he dreams, he can dream of a world where something could be done to keep your love for him...

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

.*☆ﾟ.* Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you for reading my story and if you liked it please let me know! I WILL be doing a Part 2! If you would like to be in the tag list for it please let me know!! I also have a few other stories on my masterlist so feel free to read those as well! Thank you and please come again! .*☆ﾟ.*

[puckinghischier]

Nervous

Jack Hughes x fem!reader, smitten!Jack

summary: request for jack and reader on their wedding day

notes: this is my first time writing anything for jack and i literally had so much fun with it. i hope you guys like it 😌

[2.6k]

~

Jack had never been this nervous before. Not during games, not on his draft day, not on the night of his rookie debut, and not in any circumstance that he can remember. Ever. He’s not usually the type to dwell on feelings of nerves, trusting his skill and his ability to focus on the task at hand to get the job done.

Today, though, is the most nerve-wracking day of his life. It’s his wedding day, for crying out loud. The day he gets to marry the girl that has been there for every major event of his life. The girl that has never missed a Devils home game. The girl that he’s pretty sure his family loves more than him. The girl that has stuck by him through every hardship and crazy hockey season so far. His girl. The girl he gets to make his wife.

Hell, he wasn’t even this nervous when he asked you to marry him. He recalls the day as if it happened mere hours ago, not a year and a half earlier.

“Jack, where are we going? I thought you said you had an event with the team tonight? You’re going to be late,” you ask, noticing you’re driving further and further away from the city.

You had been doing laundry, trying to get ahead on some chores you had been neglecting, when Jack had come into the living room and told you to put your shoes on, he wanted to take you somewhere. You had asked him where, and if you needed to change, but he simply shook his head no and told you it was a surprise. This wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for Jack. You just assumed he found a new ice cream place he thought you would love, or some quaint little coffee shop he knew you’d like.

You didn’t think anything of it until you found yourself watching the city disappear into the distance almost forty-five minutes later, no destination in sight.

“We’re almost there, darling. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours,” is all he said, taking his eyes off the road for only a moment to flash one of his soft smiles in your direction before continuing to drive.

You sit in the comfortable silence, a slow country ballad playing softly on the radio. Jack’s hand resting on your thigh adding a much-needed warmth to your body, not having grabbed a jacket before he dragged you out of your shared apartment. You watch the road around you become surrounded by trees, admiring the greenery that seems so hard to come by in the city.

Before you realize it, too lost in your own thoughts, Jack is turning off of the paved road you were traveling onto a dirt road, clouds of dust billowing behind the car. You lean forward a bit, trying to take in the scenery to find any sort of clue as to where you were. You’re just about to ask where he’s taking you, yet again, when you see the most beautiful scene appear through the windshield.

At the end of the road stood a large red barn, aged in all the right ways. The red was slightly faded, showcasing the years of sun damage and there were pieces of the shingled roof missing, lost in the wind who knows how long ago. Off to the left of the barn was a large area surrounded by a wooden fence, a few horses grazing on the bright green grass. The sun was just beginning to set, causing one side of the barn to be coated in golden sunlight, the other side blanketed in a shadow. As Jack turned the car to enter the field where the barn sat, you noticed the obscene number of lights strung high into the trees covered by the shadow of the barn, giving the effect that little drops of sunlight were dripping from the limbs.

“Jack…what- where are we?” You ask him, disbelief lacing your tone.

“Just a little place I stumbled across with Luke one day. We were out for a drive, just wanting out of the city for a few hours. Found this place and instantly thought of you. Knew I had to bring you here,” he reveals, parking the car and turning off the engine.

Jack opens his door to get out of the car and quickly moves to open yours, taking your hand while leading the two of you over to the forest of lights. You’re so busy looking up at the sight in the trees that you miss the large, wooden arch set up in the middle of the two biggest trees in the mini forest. There were a few hay-bales on each side of the arch, large bouquets of white daisies placed all over the bales, with some even bunched around the top corners of the square arch.

Once you take in the scene in front of you, you turn your head to look at Jack, finding his eyes already on you.

“Jack, you have about three seconds to tell me what’s going on here,” you calmly tell him, even though your stomach felt like it was doing summersaults.

“I told you, I wanted to show this place to you. Thought you’d like it.” His lips curled into an amused smile once he noticed the glare on your face, knowing you were calling his bluff.

“I wanted to show you this place, because I knew you’d like it. Because I know you. How lucky I am to know you,” he begins, slowly moving you forward until you’re standing directly in front of the arch.

“How lucky I am that I’m the person you chose to trust with your heart. How lucky I am to be able to come home to you after a hard day. How lucky I am to be the recipient of your kindness and your love. How lucky I am to bask in your happiness and your spirit day after day. How lucky I am that you put up with the crazy world I live in, and do it without complaint.”

Your hands were starting to shake at this point, eyes watering.

“What I did to deserve all of this, I’ll never know. But I know I’ll never take it for granted. I’ll never take you for granted. And if you’ll let me, I’ll spend every day of the rest of our lives telling you how thankful I am to whatever celestial being lead me to you,” Jack pauses, dropping to his knee and fishing around in his pocket for the velvet box he’s had hidden in a pair of old skates in the closet for months.

“You are pure sunshine, shining light on every single person you meet. Y/N Y/L/N, please, let me live the rest of my life sunburnt. Marry Me.”

That was the easy part. Asking you to marry him was the quickest and easiest decision Jack had ever made in his life. He hadn’t thought twice when he called Luke on a random Thursday afternoon, telling him he needed to help him run some “errands”, driving to the nearest jeweler as soon as Luke sat in his passengers seat. Didn’t even hesitate when he called your best friend, asking if you had ever talked about what your favorite diamond cut was. Not a nerve in sight when he flew out to meet your parents to ask for their blessing two months before proposing, claiming he was just making a quick trip to visit some friends.

So why? Why was he so nervous today? He’s been looking at himself in the mirror for twenty minutes now, worried that his bow tie is crooked, or that his hair looks too messy. He didn’t know why he was so focused on his appearance. You’ve seen him at his worst. You’ve been there to take care of him after far too many drinks on a night out celebrating a win, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, head buried in the closest toilet. You’ve seen him after a brutal game, face red from exertion and weird imprints all over his body from his gear. You’ve seen him when he broke down after his first loss during his rookie year, putting all the blame on himself, holding him in your arms as he sobbed in your kitchen.

He knew you didn’t care if a few hairs were out of place, or if his tie was a centimeter too far to the left. But he did. He cared, because this was the most important day of his life, and you deserved for him to look his best. You deserved for him to make sure everything was perfect.

Jack is pulled from his thoughts by a knock at the door, Luke and Quinn making their way into the room.

“Ready, Rowdy?” Quinn asks, going to stand behind Jack in the mirror.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jack responds, turning to look at his two brothers, forcing a smile that’s supposed hide all of his nervous emotions.

“Are you sure? Why do you look like you’re about to vomit, then?”

“I don’t? Do I? Oh god, what if she thinks there’s something wrong when she sees me? How do I make myself look like I’m not gonna hurl all over her dress. Luke, do I really look like I’m gonna blow chunks?” Jack frantically asks, looking between the two brothers, turning back around to look at himself in the mirror once again.

“Jack, breathe, man. You look fine. Luke was just being Luke. He doesn’t look like he’s going to vomit, right, Luke?” Quinn attempts to calm Jack, glaring at Luke.

“Yeah, I didn’t mean it. Sorry, Jack. You look fine. She’s probably gonna want to jump your bones or some shit. You look great.” Luke blurts, trying to not only escape the wrath of his eldest brother, but to keep Jack from actually vomiting.

“Okay, not what I meant but whatever works, I guess.” Quinn sighs, placing his hands on Jack’s shoulders to turn him back around.

“Listen, everything’s going to be fine. We just went to see Y/N, she’s nervous just like you are. I don’t know why, you’re both so painfully obvious with how much you love each other. There’s nothing for you to worry about. She loves you, man. More than I’ve seen someone love another person. As long as you’re standing there waiting on her at the end of the aisle, you could be covered in dog shit for all she cares. She just wants to see you. She just wants to marry you.”

Jack stares at his older brother, letting the words sink in. His thoughts drift to you, only three doors down, standing in your dress looking into the mirror just like he is, freaking out over things that don’t truly matter to him. He thinks about how you could walk down the aisle, hair un-brushed, pajamas still on, slippers on your feet and he would still be ecstatic to see you.

“You’re right, Q. Of course you’re right. I knew I chose you to be my best man for a reason,” Jack chuckles, feeling his nerves settle a bit.

“I know I’m right. I know you. And I know Y/N. As long as the two of you leave here today with the same last name, everything else could go wrong and you would still be the happiest couple I know,” Quinn removes his hands from Jack’s shoulders.

“But, nothing is going to go wrong, because Mom has been out there running around like a madwoman to make sure everything is in place. The only thing left is to make sure you get to the altar. Which is what we were sent here to do,” Luke chimes in, trying to assure his brother one last time.

“Alright. Yeah. I guess it’s time, huh?”

“It’s time, Rowdy. And it’s been a long time coming.” Quinn pats Jack on the back, the three brothers making their way towards the door that was left open.

Jack smiles at his brother’s statement, knowing you’re just as much a part of his brother’s lives as you are his. You watch every single one of Quinn’s hockey games (as long as he’s not playing at the same time as Jack and Luke) and scream loud enough for the neighbors to complain. You were there at Jack’s side for Luke’s draft day, just as proud, if not more, of the youngest Hughes. You always invite Luke over for a post-game dinner, knowing how tired he is after games and wanting to make sure he gets a meal before he goes home and claims he’s too tired to eat. He knows you hold a special place in his mom’s heart, too. Her claim that you’re the daughter she never had proving to be true through this whole process, knowing she’s been involved in every step of this wedding right along side your mom and yourself.

Before Jack knows it, the ceremony is beginning and he’s being given the signal to make his way to the altar, standing next to his groomsmen as he waits for you to walk through those doors.

As he looks out over the crowd, he finds himself growing nervous once again. Did he put on enough cologne? Did he bring the right kind? What if he wasn’t wearing the one you told him was your favorite? Did he brush his teeth? What if he kisses you for the first time as your husband and his breath tastes like the burger he had for lunch? Oh god, what if you don’t want to kiss him because he has burger breath?

Quinn can sense the nervous energy radiating off of his brother once again. He places his hand on Jack’s back, giving him a few pats to let him know he’s right there next to him. That everything’s going to be okay.

Jack looks over at his brother only briefly before he hears the unmistakable tune of “In Case You Didn’t Know” by Brett Young start playing through the speakers. It’s Jack’s song for you. He plays it all the time when you’re in the car together, not even trying to be subtle. He loves to send it to you when he’s on the road, letting you know he’s thinking about you. There was absolutely no question in your mind as to what song you were going to choose when your mom asked what you wanted to walk down the aisle to.

He snaps his attention to the double doors that open at the other end of the large room. His stomach is in knots, really hoping he doesn’t actually look like he’s about to puke, because he sure feels like it right now.

As he watches the first flash of white make an appearance in the doorway, he knows he’s a goner.

You step into his full view, hand wrapped around your father’s arm, looking around at the various guests for only a split second before your eyes meet his. Jack swears, all time stops in that second. He can barely see through the tears that well in his eyes, completely in awe of you. You match his gaze, forcing yourself to keep the tears from dropping, not wanting to have mascara streaks running down your face before you even get to the altar.

The two of you simply stare at one another for what seems like an eternity. An unspoken declaration of love passed between one another in a simple glance. Your father having to tug on your arm slightly, forcing you to step forward, too lost in Jack for you to remember where you were and what was currently taking place.

As you start to walk down the aisle, every step bringing you towards Jack, towards the rest of your life with him, the feeling of calmness washes over his body. You’re here. You’re his. And you’re everything he has ever wanted and more. It’s in this moment, watching the rest of his life walk towards him, smile on her face, a single tear slipping down her cheek, Jack Hughes has never been less nervous in his life.

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 1 - "It's not too late, let's go."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: G

Warnings: -

Danny frowned, his head resting on his arms as he sat in a café, staring at nothing in particular. Tucker was sitting next to him, typing away on his PDA and Sam was across from him glaring at his current state of dramatic pouting, frowning and sulking while ignoring his favorite coffee order she had especially ordered for him somehow even though the store did not even have it on their menu.

"Danny, how much longer are you going to sulk?"

"I don't know. How much longer until my next chance of ever meeting someone from outer space?"

"Danny."

"We missed the Hero Gala, Sam! That was our one and only chance!"

He looked away from her like a stubborn toddler. He knew he was being especially dramatic but his friends and him had planned this whole trip solely for meeting members of the Justice League in person. For one, to maybe meet the people that have been ignoring their cities' call for help for years now and request it personally if per call won't work and two, fulfill some of their own personal selfish desires to meet the hero's each one of them admired.

Though their trip clearly had been eventful considering how a lot of his ghost rogues tried to stop him from even leaving Amity Park, they also learned about the whole media black out surrounding Amity. Turns out, the reason the Justice League was ignoring them was entirely because they didn't even know they existed in the first place. It was a miracle that they even learned about a Hero Gala in Metropolis if it weren't for an invitation somehow making it to the Mansons Estate.

Fun fact. Even if the invitation made it to them. Once they did make it to the Gala location they learned that it had happened years ago. Well wasn't that just great, and here Danny had hoped to get some help and maybe meet Superman or better Martian Manhunter.

Slamming his head onto the table and gaining the attention of some other cafe visitors briefly. Danny only turned ever so slightly so that his cheek was squished against the cold table surface. Still refusing to look at Sam but instead watched Tucker who was by now frowning at his PDA.

"Guys, I think there is more to it than us being simple late a couple of years to a Gala." Blinking made a noise to ask him to elaborate while Sam verbally asked why.

"Things didn't add up when we first left Amity, aside from all your ghost rouges were even trying to make us stop leaving until the very last second. Look at this, this is a photocopy of our last news paper from home and this-" Tucker slit a paper across the table and pointed at a specific spot at the top of the paper so both Danny and Sam could see it clearly. "-is a news paper printed today from Metropolis."

"I don't get it." Danny honestly stated staring at the spot Tucker had pointed it. Sam proceeded to hit the back of his head lightly, apparently having seen what Tucker was pointing out to them.

"The dates are way too far apart." She stated and Danny blinked, looking back at the printed date and the date displayed in the image of Tuckers PDA. "Are you sure you didn't save up an older newspaper?"

Tucker gave him an unimpressed stare. "Look at the headline. That's the incident that happened right before we went on this trip."

"Okay but what does that mean?"

"From what it looks like. Amity Park lives in a time bubble. Our technology as well as date seems far behind from everything we saw ever since we left. Even my beloved PDA appears to be old technology here."

The tree sat in silence for a moment, mulling over what they had found out so far after leaving Amity for the first time. But now that they thought about that, Amity was a closed community. There were hardly any people coming in and out of their town. In addition the only one who had ever entered their city from the outside was Vlad and even he didn't talk much about any other cities or people he could possibly know outside of Amity.

"That's a pretty interesting topic you guys are talking about."

Startled, the three looked up to see a new face that had appeared out of nowhere and was spitting next to Sam. The boy with auburn hair and yellow eyes who looked only a bit older than them and was smiling brightly at them with a back of chips in his hands.

"So you guys lived in a time bubble? That sounds interesting, can you tell me more?"

A second later two black haired teens appeared next to the boy, one sheepish and in a punk style and the other frustrated and appearing to wear more formal clothing. The frustrated one eyed them for a moment and Danny caught his eyes, noticing the calculating look and couldn't help narrowing his own eyes on him.

"Sorry about my friend, he sometimes acts before he thinks."

"I have a friend like that too, don't worry." Tucker answered and Danny shot him a quick glare before turning his attention back to the three newcomers.

"We couldn't help but overhear what you guys were talking about. You missed your chance to go to a hero gala right?" The sheepish one said after exchanging a look with the other black haired teen and Danny couldn't help but feel like there was some silent communication going on. The same he had at times with Tucker.

"So what?" Sam huffed, not willing to talk about their woes and sharing information with strangers.

"We happened to be on our way to one that's not open to the public but we could help you get in. Granted, I would like to hear a little more about your situation and how you missed the one you originally wanted to go to." In other words, give us information and we will get you to somewhere where you can meet hero's. Danny narrowed his eyes further, there had to be more to this catch.

His distrust must have been visible as the formal clothing black haired teen let out a sigh. "Look we have experience with time shenanigans, so we might be able to get you into contact with people that can help, from Young Justice or maybe even the Justice League."

"No one just offers help like that, without getting something out of it." Sam huffed arms crossed and glaring at them. Tucker also eyed them with suspicion and Danny had yet to let up on his distrustful glare.

"Well we do. So common, the private gala is still going. We only escaped from it for a little bit to get this guy some coffee. It's not too late, let's go! We can figure out the whole time bubble thing on the way there!" The brightly smiling auburn haired answered instead bouncing in his seat next to Sam. Eager to have Danny and his friends come along.

Only way later did Danny learn that the three teens that snuck them into a privat Hero Gala were actual members of Young Justice but that was only after they figured out the whole Amity lives in a Time Bubble situation.

[captn-trex]

read between the lines

Fox x F!Reader

word count: 8.1k

description: the library is your favourite place to escape to when the galaxy gets too loud, and it just so happens to be the same for a certain marshal commander

warnings: sfw, fox being anxious & being frustrated about it, nervous (kinda non-sensical) ramblings from fox's pov incl. self-deprecating comments (basically projecting my anxiety onto him oops), but it ends cute and nerdy :)

a/n: really wanted to write a fox fic after seeing this post by @welcometo79s about fox being an introvert - I thought the idea was super interesting so here we have an anxious lil fox :) I could yap so much more but my notes are always too long so I'm gonna shut up

Going to the library was one of your favourite pastimes. Especially on a planet like Coruscant, which never seemed to slow down.

You had discovered this little corner of the planet years ago, and you spent more time here than you cared to admit. There were a number of libraries of Coruscant, but none of them as quiet and authentic as this one. You had truly struck gold in finding it, entirely by accident.

The feel of a real book, the feel of flimsi between your fingers, was an experience you relished in this technological day and age. You didn't have anything against technology, it was an integral part of your life and job after all, but holding something so precious and unique in your hands was something else entirely.

This particular library was not very large, though boasted an impressive catalogue of titles nonetheless. You loved curling up by the heater on cold evenings, in one specific cosy red armchair. It was a little more hidden, a reading nook of sorts, and it made the experience feel all the more special. Just you and a book, the outside world, the war, slipping from your mind easily.

In the last few weeks, there was a new regular that had started coming. At first, you were alarmed, his bright red armour alerting you to the fact that he belonged to the Coruscant Guard, but when he picked up a book and settled himself in a window seat, you had relaxed.

You had to admit, you found yourself watching him quite a lot. After a number of times seeing him, you had figured out exactly who he was. It was entirely surprising to you that the Commander of the Coruscant Guard frequented such a place, though he always walked in as if it was exactly where he should be, so you came to respect that.

Going to the library had become part of your daily routine, spending your evenings there as it was much quieter than spending them in your apartment. The people you lived with were particularly loud, not to mention the noise of the city outside the window. However, in the weeks that Commander Fox had begun to do the same thing, you found your reason for going shifting.

You couldn't help but be intrigued by him. You were always too far away to see what he was reading, and he never took his helmet off. You wondered how he could read through it, but you presumed that if it had been made for battle then a book probably wouldn't be a problem.

One day, as he was leaving, you noticed him acting a little odd. He peered around to see if anyone was looking his way, not noticing you at all, and then he pocketed a stylus that the person who sat there before him had left. You smirked, watching him leave the library with a little extra hurriedness to his steps. After that, you decided that you needed to know what it was he was reading all this time, your intrigue finally becoming strong enough.

When you entered the library the next day, he was already sat in his regular seat, one leg stretched out on the seat and the other foot planted on the ground. He held the book in one hand, the other absentmindedly playing with the stylus that he had stolen the previous day. You found the book you had been reading, and made your way towards his position, your stomach turning just a little.

The window bay that he sat in was reasonably large, with a wooden frame and covered with pillows. You made your way to the opposite side from him and took your seat. His head raised from his book quickly in surprise, and you offered him a smile, before opening up your book and finding where you had left it.

Unbeknownst to you, and contrary to your own thoughts, Fox had noticed you. It was hard not to; you were here everyday, and he found you to be distracting, to say the least. He had often watched you sneaking glances at him, the secrecy afforded by his helmet allowing his cheeks to heat up without detection. It was the reason he rarely took his helmet off really, he didn't want anybody to he able to read him, he had a hard enough time conveying his thoughts through words without people watching him try to do it.

Fox had always been somewhat of an introvert, a stark contrast to his brothers. He didn't know how he had ended up not sharing in his brothers’ natural outgoing demeanour, but it was something that affected him constantly. He managed to have a commanding presence and confidence in his work through his rigorous training on Kamino, and he now had enough experience in his role that it felt safe, natural. Though at the end of a long day, when his brothers went out to 79s, he much preferred to be by himself. He craved so deeply to have his own space, and finding this library recently had afforded him some semblance of that.

Fox drew his knee up towards his chest so that he wasn't invading any of your personal space, despite the feeling that that was exactly what you had just done to him. He watched you from behind his visor, intrigued and confused. You didn't look up from your book once, leafing through the pages gradually as you took in the information on them. You were reading something non-fiction, something to do with theories about wild space and beyond. Somehow that surprised Fox - he didn't know what he expected you to be reading but it wasn't that. After his heart had stopped racing at the thought of having to talk to someone, he let his eyes drift back to his own book.

For the entirety of the evening, you didn't talk to Fox, nor did you so much as look at him. He found it to be equally relieving and maddening. He was glad that you both seemed to just be enjoying each other's presence without the need for conversation, but he couldn't understand why you had joined him.

He knew his armour made him stand out among the civilians, and usually people seemed to be scared of him because of it, as if he would arrest them for looking at him the wrong way. It was a blessing and a curse. People left him alone, but he stood out nonetheless. He got what he wanted, but was constantly being perceived in ways he didn't know as he did.

He wondered what your angle was.

When he had seen you watching him, he had initially thought it was for the same reason: that you were scared of him. However, he soon realised that you looked at him with no contempt, no ill-will, and now that you had come and sat yourself within his presence, he was even more interested to know what was going on in your head.

After a number of hours - he had lost count how many - he noticed you rising from your seat. You placed down the cushion that you had set in your lap as you read, and cast a glance over to him. With how he had rested his book in his lap and looked up, it was obvious he was looking at you, and you gave him another sweet smile.

He was overtaken by the need to speak with you. Your kind gestures seemed to be an obvious response to the way he was acting, and that you were respecting the fact that he didn't want to talk. Unfortunately, before he could work up the courage, you had gone back over to the bookshelf and put the book back in its place, leaving shortly thereafter.

Fox sighed audibly, and it came out as a small hiss through the filter of his helmet. Despite liking his own space, he had enjoyed having someone else with him, just sitting in silence while you both focused on your own things. He didn't have that kind of interaction with any of his brothers, they were often far too excitable for him.

He loved his brothers dearly, they meant a lot to him, but being around them all of the time tired him out, and sometimes it was nice to get away from them. He found himself thinking that perhaps he didn't always have to do it by himself. Perhaps it was possible to spend time with someone who didn't drain his energy. Someone like you.

When Fox arrived at the library the next day, you were already there, sat in your regular seat. He watched you for a moment, the corners of your lips lifting as you read something from your book. You looked so kind, so approachable. He didn’t feel as though you were trying to draw him in in any particular way, at least not in a way that would ordinarily have him feeling flustered. It didn't seem that you sought anything that would draw him out of his comfort zone at all. With that in mind, he just truly felt like indulging in your simple company once more, and so he did.

He approached the corner of the library where you were slightly hidden away, and he settled himself in the armchair opposite you. You looked up to watch him do so, and smiled warmly when his visor turned towards you. The crinkles at the edges of your eyes gave away how pleased you were that he had decided to join you, and he relaxed a little, his body moulding into the chair as he opened up his book.

As you had the previous day, you both engrossed yourselves in your books. The worries of today and tomorrow washed away and you just soaked up the words on the page. You were curled up in your chair, a cushion held to your stomach as you often did, whereas Fox had his legs outstretched, one over the other, his hand tucked under his arm as the other held his book. You were both just comfortable.

As the day wound to a close, you flicked your eyes to the clock, and thought that you best be getting home.

Fox watched you raise from your seat, placing the cushion back onto it neatly. His stomach lurched a little, once again feeling the urge to speak to you. He felt exceedingly stupid as he couldn't bring himself to do it, and he was floundering for something, anything to say.

“Wait!” He heard himself say, a little louder than he would've liked, especially for in a library. You turned back to him, your eyes finding his visor as you waited for him to continue.

Fox's brain drew a blank. He couldn't think let alone speak right now. However, you just gave him a patient smile, not expecting anything. It calmed his mind enough to ask a simple question.

“What's your name?”

Your smile grew a little before you replied, you voice even more kindly than he could have imagined - soft, yet assured. He couldn't help but let the corner of his mouth raise a little under his helmet. After a moment, he realised that you weren't asking his name, and his smile dropped, slightly panicking for something to say again. He would've given anything to be as outgoing as his brothers at this very moment, or any subsequent one.

“Well” You cleared your throat as he just looked up at you, and a small smirk wound its way onto your face. “I suppose I'll see you around, Commander Fox” You gave him a little mock salute as you turned away.

Fox could feel his cheeks burning, his mind now in overdrive. You knew who he was the whole time? Somehow he felt especially embarrassed more than anything, and slumped back into his chair with a huff. What was he supposed to say to you now? How much did you know about him? If you knew who he was, why did you sit with him? And why didn't you say anything?

Endless questions swirled around in his head, stopping him from enjoying his book for the rest of the evening. Even as he tried to sleep in his bunk, all he could do was stare up at the ceiling, his cheeks still burning as he thought of how stupid he must've sounded asking your name and sitting by you, when you knew exactly who he was.

He desperately wanted to know what you thought of him. Surely if you knew his name then you'd know other things about him? But what did you know? Had you heard that he was somewhat removed or lonely and thought he could use a friend? Because that would be positively mortifying.

Fox ran a hand over his face. He shouldn't be thinking like this. For all that he avoided them, he cared far too much what people thought of him. He wished he could stop doing that.

Fox had thought about not going to the library the next day, but after a long talk with himself in the mirror, he decided that it didn't matter what you thought of him, and he wasn't going to let it ruin what he had come to know as his little corner of the galaxy.

He was already there when you arrived, as you had come a bit later than usual. That had only struck Fox with an unpleasant feeling in his gut, but he wasn't going to let on.

You slowly approached his window seat with your book tucked in your hands. His head didn’t raise until you spoke.

“Is it alright if I sit with you?”

Fox's head snapped up at the sound of your voice, his eyes a little wide behind his visor. He elected not to speak, and instead nodded his head and gestured vaguely to the other side of the window.

Unlike the last couple of days, Fox was positively unfocused on his book. It was maddening, all he wanted to do was relax, especially after his sleepless night and the stack of flimsiwork that had awaited him on his desk this morning. He couldn't be so lucky, you had to go and distract him. Of course it wasn't your fault, and Fox knew that, he was just annoyed that he couldn't shut his mind off for once second. Ever.

After around 45 minutes had passed, and Fox had finally settled into reading his book, he noticed you watching him, and he internally groaned. He had just started relaxing.

He raised his head to let you know he saw you looking at him, and you smiled warmly before speaking.

“Can I ask you a question?”

That made him nervous, the slight anticipation making his head nod quickly to release it.

“Is your helmet comfortable?” You asked, resting your book in your lap.

Whatever he thought you were going to ask, it wasn't that.

“Uh… yeah, it's fine” He replied awkwardly.

“Cool” You nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and opened your book back up.

Fox just stared at you. Was there not any other reason for you asking that? Did you actually just want to know if his helmet was comfortable or not? Why couldn't he stop questioning your motivation for doing anything?

“How do you know my name?” He asked, getting straight to the point.

Your expression was sheepish when you looked back up at him again, and you fumbled slightly with your book, losing your page. You let out a small huff at that, “I don't know, I think everyone kind of knows who you are”

That was probably the worst reason you could have given. Fox cringed, his body folding in on itself fractionally even though he tried to stay rigid and strong.

He looked back down to his book and tried to read, but now it just felt like the awkward silence was swallowing him whole. He couldn't focus on the page, his mind swirling with various words that he tried to string together to reply to what you had said.

After a few minutes of that, Fox was fed up. He practically slammed his book closed and strutted over to the desk to return it, not looking back as he left.

The next night, you were still put out by the Commanders actions. You went to the library anyway, convinced that he probably wouldn't be going, that you had well and truly scared him off. You didn't know exactly why, or rather how, you had done it, but you could tell he'd been frustrated by it. You hadn't hardly said anything to him, but you supposed that you had managed to offend him in those few short words.

Thankfully, it soon slipped from your mind as you curled your legs into your chest and dove into the new book you had picked up today.

If Fox had been embarrassed by you knowing who he was, he was positively beside himself with mortification now. He had blocked it out the entire day, holing up in his ‘office’ and burying himself in his flimsiwork so he couldn't possibly let another thought into his head.

As it got to the end of the day, Fox couldn't stop watching the clock. Time was creeping along at a painfully slow pace, and that was as he was already staying late. It felt like torture, working late just to stop himself thinking. His brain was at maximum capacity, and all he wanted to do was rest.

“Commander” A voice called out, and Fox's head lifted slowly to see Thorn standing in front of his desk, “Maker, you look rough”

Fox scowled, “I thought I told you to knock”

“I vaguely remember you saying that…” Thorn said, a mocking grin growing with each word. “You do know this isn’t a door right?” He said, knocking on the wall that only vaguely separated Fox’s desk from the others.

Fox just rolled his eyes, “What do you want?”

“We're clocking out now, you fancy coming to 79s?” Thorn asked hopefully.

“You already know the answer” Fox looked down at his flimsiwork again.

Thorn huffed, “Come on vod, just this once?”

“I've got work to do” Fox replied.

“That's what you always say”

Fox gave Thorn a tired look, “Another time”

“You always say that as well” Thorn remarked.

Fox sighed aggressively, “Look, I'm really not in the mood for this tonight”

“Alright, alright” Thorn put his hands up in surrender, “I'll get you next time”

“I doubt it” Fox mumbled under his breath as his brother left.

He picked up his stylus. It was the one he had stolen from the library, or more accurately, whoever had left it at the library. He let a sigh escape him. It was filled with mixed emotions, positive memories of the library tinged by his own stupidity.

He twirled the stylus in his hand, manoeuvring it through his fingers. Maybe it wouldn't be the end of the world to go to the library, to seek the respite he so desperately desired. If you were there, he could just ignore you, it couldn't be that hard.

Once that thought had entered his mind and he'd let it grow for just a second, he rose to his feet, grabbing his helmet from the edge of his desk. When he stepped out of his corner, the chattering voices he could hear stopped, and the two remaining clones in the office looked towards him.

“Ah, Commander, you decided to join us after all” Thorn grinned.

“Uh, no. I’m going out” Fox replied, continuing to walk towards the door.

“Where to?” Stone asked, pushing himself from his desk.

“Just- out” Fox replied, much more rigidly than he would've liked. It sounded extremely suspicious coming out.

“Out? Like on a date?” Thorn asked.

“No!” Fox barked back, almost stopping in his place.

“Oh my god, you are” Stone’s expression turned to a broad grin as he dashed towards the door, stopping his brother from leaving.

“I'm not” Fox insisted, a sharp glare directed at Stone.

“You're blushing” He pointed out, which only intensified Fox’s glare. Stone pushed his brother's shoulder lovingly, “Aw vod, I'm so happy for you”

Fox rolled his eyes, pushing past his brother and grumbling to himself as he could hear the two of them laughing at his expense. He loved his brothers, but they really got on his last nerve sometimes.

When he got to the library, it was much later than he usually arrived, which the librarian commented on as he checked out his book. He just gave her a polite nod, not really pleased at his patterns being recognised.

He had planned to just ignore you, but when he saw you sitting in your usual seat, curled up and peaceful, reading your book as if you were the only two things in the galaxy, he couldn't help but feel drawn to you once more. He walked over to you in a few long strides, and cleared his throat. Your head shot up, eyes a little wide.

“Commander” You said, a little unsurely as it wasn't entirely clear if he wasn't upset with you or not. You couldn't tell from under the helmet.

“Please don't call me that” He replied in a somewhat affronted tone, though he must have seen how taken aback you were because he instantly backtracked, “I mean- No, just- Fox is fine, please”

“Okay then” You smiled, “Hi Fox”

Fox returned the smile, even though you couldn’t see it, “May I join you?”

You nodded, gesturing to the armchair opposite you. Fox sat down, leaning forward and clearly not finished speaking.

“I am… sorry, for leaving abruptly yesterday”

You couldn't stop your face from twitching with amusement, “You don't have to be sorry”

“Right… yeah” His hand snaked to the back of his neck on instinct as he spoke awkwardly.

“I do hope I didn't offend you though” You added, drawing your eyebrows together.

“Offend me?” Fox seemed genuinely confused.

“About… knowing who you are” You jogged his memory.

“Oh, no” Fox shook his head lightly. It had sent him spiralling, but you didn't need to know that.

“Good” You smiled sweetly and flicked your eyes back down to your book.

Fox watched you for a moment longer then opened his book, finding his place and continuing on.

What he liked the most about you, not that he knew much else, was that you seemed content just being in each other's space, and not needing to talk to fill the time. Talking wasn't his strong suit, it stressed him out at the best of times, even when he pretended it didn't. Particularly then, in fact. Somehow, without even communicating with each other verbally, this was the most meaningful connection he had shared with someone new in a long time. He didn't know that you thought that way too, but somehow he felt that you did.

Not too long later, the librarian came to tell you both that the library would be closing soon. Fox nodded and stood from his seat, but paused in going to hand his book back in when he realised you weren't moving. You hadn't even looked up from your book.

“Aren't you coming?” He questioned, his voice clearly showing his confusion.

You looked up to him, your lips curling into a smile, “I'm not quite done here yet”

Fox frowned, then sat back down opposite you, his knees spread and elbows leant against them, a stance he often took when questioning someone.

“You'll be chucked out by the librarian” He stated.

You shook your head gently, “I can be sneaky”

“Then you'll be locked in” He tried to find reason in whatever idea you had up your sleeve.

“Eh” You shrugged, “I can pick the lock”

Fox tilted his head. Even though you couldn't see the confusion on his face, you still found the action a little cute.

“You realise I could have you arrested for that”

Fox could see your eyes flash with a small amount of alarm as you remembered exactly who was sitting in front of you, but it was gone as soon as it came, and instead you narrowed them a little.

“Well, that would be a little pointless” You said as if it were obvious.

Fox’s eyebrows raised instinctively, “And why is that?”

“Because you'd have to arrest yourself too” You stated, your eyes sparkling with mischief and a grin overtaking your face.

“Wha-”

Before he could even finish the word, you had jumped up and grabbed his arm, dragging him towards the rows of bookshelves and pulling him in between two of them.

He wanted to protest, but the words were stuck in his throat. He was once again thankful for the shield that was his helmet, because he knew that his cheeks must have been bright red with the way you were looking up at him. Your face bore the widest grin, your eyes crinkled at your own mischief, and he was hopeless to do anything about it now.

Fox’s head was telling him to leave, that breaking the law, something that he dedicated his life to upholding, was not a good idea. Though between your excitement and the secret thrill it was giving him, his heart was aching to stay. So he did.

He watched you as you glanced around and listened out for the librarian. Somehow the only thing in his mind was that if he rocked forwards onto the balls of his feet that he'd probably be touching you, or at least feel the heat of your body. The thought was disturbed when the lights cut out and the librarian could be heard walking nearby. You grabbed his arm again, tugging him down the shelves to hide against the other end.

You were grinning, resting your temple against the end of the shelves and looking up at him.

“Having fun?”

Fox just hummed in reply as he copied your posture, not giving much away. You rolled your eyes, but your smile remained, and you kept listening out for the librarian. Soon enough, the clunk of the outdated technology of lock and key slotting together rang out in the darkness of the library, and you stood up straight, walking back over to your regular spot.

By the time Fox caught up with you, you had turned on a nearby lamp and were already sat back in the chair with your book open. He just sat opposite you, watching you through his visor.

The library was usually quiet, but now it was dead silent, and Fox couldn't help but relish in that fact. Even the sounds of the city couldn't be heard in here. It was an entirely peaceful moment, something he rarely got the opportunity to indulge in.

Fox peered around the library, making sure nobody else was lingering after closing, and then hooked his thumbs under the base of his helmet, pulling it off with a quiet hiss. The noise made your head raise, seeming loud in the quiet environment.

It was hard not to stare. You knew more or less what he looked like, he was a clone after all, but nothing could have prepared you for actually seeing him. His dark curls, streaked by silver, his eyes a dark brown and his battle worn skin. He was gorgeous, so rugged yet so stately, and so unique in his appearance as compared to the brothers of his that you had met.

He noticed you examining his face and immediately went to put his helmet on.

“No!” You called out, a little more desperately than you hoped for. Fox gave you a weary and puzzled look, and you could have melted right there. It was strange to see the emotion on his face when he had always concealed it from you.

“Sorry” You coughed out, a little flustered, “I didn't mean to stare”

Despite your words, you continued to observe him, inspecting his face. Every mark, every scar, every feature drawing you in.

Fox tilted his head to the side a fraction, a small crease forming in his brow, “You're still staring”

“Right, sorry” You looked down to your book and scanned your eyes across the page, trying to find where you had been when you got distracted by the sheer beauty of the man before you. It certainly wasn't helpful to think of it in those terms when you were trying not to look at him.

Fox let one side of his mouth quirk up at your reaction to him. He hadn't really expected you to care all that much, but your darkened cheeks were telling him that perhaps you did. He spoke your name, and the sound of his voice unfiltered by his helmet sent a shiver running up your spine.

“Hm?” You replied, glancing up.

“How often do you stay after closing?”

“Oh, not that often” You shrugged a shoulder.

“Why tonight?” He pressed.

You hesitated, “Well, you didn't come until late, and… I feel like that was kinda my fault”

Fox couldn't help the way his stomach flipped, even if he didn't know exactly why it had. He placed his book down on the table next to him.

“It's not your fault” He asserted, “I had a lot of work to do”

It wasn't exactly a lie, but he wasn't going to tell you that he had been trying to banish you from his head all day.

“But thank you. It's not often that I get to-” He gestured his hand vaguely around the library, “Experience the quiet like this”

“No problem” You smiled, setting your book down as well. It seemed you both were now more interested in each other's company than that of the books you had chosen.

Fox bit the inside of his cheek, a little nervous under your undivided attention. The feeling in his stomach was akin to his usually anxiety around socialising, but it felt different, not entirely unpleasant.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure” You replied, “I'm an open book”

Fox let out a breathy chuckle, the amusement dancing in your eyes letting him know that your pun wasn't accidental.

“What do you do?”

“Like… for work?” You asked.

“Yeah, I guess” Fox shrugged. He didn’t really mind what you talked about, he just wanted to know more about you.

“Um” You looked away, flexing your hands nervously, “Nothing. I mean- you know, nothing interesting… or important”

Fox hummed, giving you a sceptical look, “Something tells me breaking into libraries in the middle of the night isn’t the only illegal thing you do”

“Okay, first of all - I don’t break in, I only break out-”

“Not much better really” Fox shrugged, trying to keep the smirk from his lips unsuccessfully.

”Sure, maybe not” You smirked, “But it’s hardly malicious. It’s nothing like, say… Stealing someone’s private property, such as a stylus or something like that…”

A blush dusted Fox’s cheeks immediately, now knowing you had indeed caught him doing exactly that. He cleared his throat, looking away and trying to find a way to explain himself.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone” You teased, resting your hand on his knee for a second to draw his attention back to you, “Besides, who would I tell? We’ve already established that you’re not going to arrest yourself”

Fox dragged his gaze back to you, the gentle touch only making his cheeks burn hotter. He gave you a weary sort of look, but the edge of his lips curled upwards nonetheless.

“Why did you steal it?” You then asked, devoid of any of the teasing tone you had previously employed.

“Uh” Fox ran a hand through his hair, “Well… I don’t really have anything that’s… Mine”

You gave him a puzzled look, “How do you mean?”

Fox cleared his throat, “I mean… I don’t really have possessions, I share all of my time and my space with my brothers. I don’t have a place that is mine, to put anything that might be mine”

He paused for a moment, conscious that he may be oversharing, but your even gaze, the way you were sitting forward and listening attentively told him that perhaps you didn’t mind. That you were interested in what he was saying.

“I have an office, sort of, but not really. It’s just a tiny area in the corner of the Guard’s office, so it’s a little closed off, and it barely even fits my desk, but- anyway. I just take what I can get I suppose” He wrapped up his rambling.

“I can understand that”

“You can?” He asked.

You nodded, “Yeah, I’ve… never had a space to myself either really”

“You don’t have an apartment or something?” He tilted his head to the side.

“Not to myself. I live with three other people, and they’re very… loud. That’s why I come here”

“Yeah, same here I suppose” Fox smiled, then his face fell a little, “Hold on- We didn’t get to the bottom of what you do for work”

You chuckled a little nervously, “I’m a mechanic”

Fox gave you a dubious look, “That doesn’t sound illegal”

“It’s not” You sighed, “It’s just… my boss is a little dodgy”

Fox took a moment to shift in his seat, trying to appear casual, “What kind of dodgy? Who… is it?”

You just smirked at him, “You’re not getting it out of me that easily I’m afraid, Commander”

Fox wanted to chuckle, but he was also suddenly struck by the fact that he had no reason to believe you had any moral integrity or that you actually were any sort of good person.

“You don’t think they should be brought to justice?” He spoke with trepidation.

You smiled a little, “Yeah, I guess I do, but then I would be out of a job”

“You could get another one” Fox reasoned.

“It’s not that simple” You stated, “I don’t live with three people for the fun of it after all”

Fox was confused, you could see that much woven into the frown he gave you.

“I can’t afford anything else” You completed the thought, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Oh, right” Fox replied.

Fox didn’t really know what to say. He hadn’t faced that kind of issue before in his own life, so he couldn’t say he fully understood. He wasn't shy of people turning to crime because of money, their were often few other reasons, though it certainly gave a new perspective to the way he looked at his role of what had turned into a short jump from policeman.

“Anyway” You said more cheerily, “It isn't such a bad job, I do get to spend my evenings here”

Fox smiled at that, “How long have you been coming here?”

“A few years” You replied.

It wasn't long before you were talking animatedly, sharing little details of your life with Fox. He could feel himself coming out of his shell the more you talked, enamoured by the way you spoke and the things you had to say. He found himself agreeing with many of the observations you made, even if he didn't say so. It was also hard to ignore how drawn to you he now felt, in a way he hadn't experienced with many others, possibly anyone. He told you details about himself too, a little bit about his brothers, about a book that he had heard of but couldn’t find, about what he does in the Coruscant Guard.

You were explaining a passage of your favourite book, and the way the light was hitting you face was making it hard for Fox to concentrate on your words fully.

“Do you think that was the right thing for them to do?” He asked, a crease in his brow to show his engagement.

“Well, no. Probably not, but that's what the book is questioning” You explained, then noted Fox's slightly dazed expression, “Maybe they should take a page out of your book and just start stealing” You raised your eyebrows a little, and Fox laughed defeatedly, both as his own habits and your terrible library humour.

“I can't believe you saw me do that and still came and sat with me” He joked, the outright sarcasm feeling unfamiliar on his tongue.

“Oh no, that was what made me do it” You admitted a little theatrically.

“Really?” He cocked his head to the side, giving you a genuine disbelieving look.

“Yeah, it interested me. I wanted to know what the Commander of the Coruscant Guard was doing stealing from a library” You chuckled, “It was just… not what I expected, I guess”

“What did you expect?” He asked with a teasing edge, “The armour does tend to give a certain impression”

“Oh no, I would never judge a book by its cover” You put your hand to your chest in mock offense, a smile still pulling at your lips.

He rolled his eyes, “Do you always have such terrible humour?”

“I think it's funny” You shrugged, covering your mouth as a yawn escaped it. You blinked a few times, and it was only then that you realised it was most likely very late. Checking your watch, you saw that it was past midnight and you sat forward in your chair, “I should be getting home really”

Fox was tired as well, but he wasn't ready to say goodbye just yet. Though, he didn't want to keep you if you were tired, and he wasn't exactly fully awake himself.

“Can I escort you back?” He suggested.

You smiled as you stood up, “Sure, that'd be nice”

Fox followed suit, grabbing his helmet, and letting you lead the way to the door, both of you returning your books to the shelf on the way.

“My very own Coruscant Guard escort, lucky me” You muttered, eyelids heavy with sleep as you looked up at him with a smirk.

Fox’s lips formed a similar expression. He rolled his eyes, though it wasn’t as spiteful as when he had directed it at his brother earlier on in the night. He had completely forgotten about the aspect of having to pick the lock, so was a little surprised when you then produced a small tool from your pocket and knelt down, slotting it into the keyhole.

“Should I be worried that you carry around a lock pick?” He asked, placing his helmet over his head.

You let out a breathy chuckle, “I only use it for this. Besides, it's just a regular tool, not specifically a lock pick”

The door cracked open, and you pulled the tool out, placing it back in your pocket.

It was only a few blocks to your home, and on the way you explained to Fox how you had first found the library on an evening stroll shortly after moving into your current apartment, trying to get away from your loud roommates.

You could already hear them as you approached now, music turned up loud and some form of excited squealing spilling from the windows. You cracked open the door, and winced as the noise became ten times louder. You gave Fox a sheepish expression and he chuckled a little.

“I can see why you go to the library” He noted.

“Yeah” You sighed, rubbing your neck, “They’re not so bad really, just…”

Fox nodded in understanding.

You both just stayed watching each other for a moment, neither one of you wanting to be the first to say goodbye. You stared into Fox's visor, hoping to find his eyes behind it, and by some miracle, he understood that, and took it off in one smooth motion.

You smiled up at him as his eyes emerged from beneath the mask, and his heart instinctively skipped a beat. With you looking up at him like that, and nothing to hide his own emotions, he suddenly felt exposed. His stomach erupted into what felt like his usual anxiety-ridden state, but for once, it was more exhilarating than it was scary.

“I'm glad I made you stay behind tonight” You admitted, little care for how odd the words sounded.

Fox chuckled slightly, “Yeah, me too”

There was another moment of silence, and now Fox read it as awkwardness, so he immediately began backing away.

“I- Um, I'll see you around?” He offered.

Your smile faltered for half a second before you replied, “Yeah, see you around”

Fox watched you get inside safely, and then turned on his heel to head back to his quarters.

The whole way back, and well into the night, Fox couldn't get you out of his head. Though, this time he didn't mind.

The following morning, Fox was once again buried in flimsiwork, already on his third caf and ready to pull his hair out.

“Commander” Fox heard the unmistakable voice from the ‘door’ of his office, and he could have easily groaned in frustration.

“I thought I told you to knock” He grumbled, not bothering to look up from his flimsiwork.

“Perhaps you did” Thorn shrugged, a grin evident in his voice, “But you have a visitor”

Fox's head snapped up at that.

“A visitor?”

“Mhm” Thorn confirmed in a somewhat teasing manner, “No idea how she got past security downstairs but, there's a woman asking to see you”

Fox frowned a little, but stood from his desk, walking over to look around the corner. He saw you leaning on Thorn's desk, looking around the office and a book clutched between your hands. You were in a mechanic’s jumpsuit, folded down to the waist with leather gloves tucked into the belt, and seemingly not caring one bit how your appearance made you stand out in the office.

He called your name, and your head turned towards him, along with everyone else in the office that had already been staring at the you, the person who didn't belong. Your eyes lit up a little as you saw him, and you pushed yourself from the desk, striding over to him and Thorn.

“What are you doing here?” He asked softly, leading you into his corner of the office.

“I wanted to g-”

“Actually, hold on one moment” Fox interrupted you, then walked back out into the office to find Thorn and Stone waiting just outside with their ears turned to the wall. Fox rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, making them jump away.

“Could I maybe have some privacy?” He gave them a pointed look.

Both of them mumbled a ‘yes sir’ as they slunk away, brandishing matching smirks. Fox huffed, before returning to you.

“Sorry about that” He ran a hand through his hair, “Are you alright? What are you doing here?”

“I'm fine” You smiled, “I came to give you this”

You held up the book in your hands, offering it to him. Fox eyed it suspiciously, his gaze flicking between you and the book.

“Did you steal this from the library?”

You laughed gratuitously, “No. I thought we established that was your thing”

“But…” Fox frowned, “Did you buy it then? You really shouldn’t have spent your money-”

“I didn’t buy it, it’s mine” You cut him off, “Well, it was mine, it’s yours now”

You tried to hand it to him but Fox just pushed it back towards you, taking a step forward, “I couldn’t possibly take your property”

“I want you to have it” You grabbed his hand and forced him to take it, looking up into his eyes intently.

Fox’s heart stuttered at your intense gaze, aware of how your hand still rested over his as you awaited his reply. He looked down at the book, and turned it over to read the spine. His eyes quickly found yours again, and a grin had bloomed on your face.

“This is it” He breathed out, “The book I was looking for”

“It is” You nodded, finally taking your hand away from his.

“Wh- How- I didn’t even know what it was called, how did you…?”

“I guess I can read between the lines” You shrugged, your grin widening, and Fox laughed, the edges of his eyes crinkling. “I’ve read it a few times” You admitted, then flipped the book open, revealing annotations in the margins, “I went through and pointed out my favourite parts, wrote a bit about why and kinda analysed it a little”

“You wrote these notes for me?” He questioned, his voice sounding unusually small as his brows pinched together.

“Yeah” You gave him a warm smile, “That way, it’s like… personalised for you”

Fox was at a loss for words. You had really listened to him yesterday, and heard how his lack of personal effects weighed on his mind, and now you were giving him something of yours, and you had made it personal to him. His chest spread with warmth, his shoulders relaxing in a small contented sigh.

He let the book fall to his side, and he leaned forwards onto the balls of his feet, so his chest was almost against yours. He brought his hand up and gently brushed your hair away from your forehead, his hand lingering against your cheekbone. Your eyes shone up at him, and a genuine smile crossed his face.

“I'm glad I met you” Fox murmured, his voice low so that only you could hear.

“I know you are” You grinned.

Fox rolled his eyes, “Let me guess, because you can read me so well”

You chuckled, your head tipping to the side in thought, “I hadn’t thought of that one actually. Looks like you’re picking up my novel sense of humour though”

Fox scoffed a laugh, “You’re terrible”

“Maybe” You shrugged, “But I like to think that maybe you don't mind”

Fox hummed, “Perhaps not”

You grinned up at him for a moment, and then stepped back, “I should be getting back really, I'm not supposed to be here”

“You don't have to tell me that” Fox raised his eyebrows at you, “How did you manage get up here?”

“A fun story for another time” You smirked, disappearing around the corner.

Fox followed after you, watching you leave from where he leant in the doorway, when you stopped in your place and turned back to him. You seemed to be weighing something in your head, and then evidently decided to go through with it, jogging back over to him.

Fox raised an eyebrow as you came to stand in front of him, “What is it?”

“I forgot something”

“Forgot wha-?”

Fox was interrupted by you raising onto your tiptoes and placing a delicate kiss to his cheek, your hand finding his to steady yourself. The feel of your hand gently holding his, let alone your lips on his cheek, was enough to set his skin alight. His cheeks were already burning by the time you pulled away.

You gave him a sweet smile, squeezing his hand lightly and speaking in a whisper, “See you later”

Fox watched you go with wide eyes, his body unable to move from where it was firmly rooted to the ground. Your body finally disappeared out of the office, and he let out a breath he didn’t realise that he’d been holding, his body relaxing.

“So you did have a date” Stone nudged his brother, a grin almost splitting his face. Fox just gave him a withering look.

“What did I say about privacy?”

“Well I figured that since you made it everyone's business-”

“I suggest you get back to work, Stone”

“Yep. Got it”

Fox settled himself back at his desk, his fingers trailing along the spine of the book that was now in his possession. His cheeks were still burning, and they probably would be for the rest of the day. He was looking forward to going to the library that night, but it wasn’t for the books this time.

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565

[leilakisakabiri]

Liar, Liar (Gavi)

Summary: Gavi thinks you’re cheating on him. 

Warning(s): None

A/N: Thank you guys for all the love on The Promises We Keep. My inbox is open!

Word Count: 3.3k+

Masterlist

Gavi still remembered how alone he felt that day. It was the day of the semifinal for La Liga, one of the biggest games of his career, and one of the most important days of his life, and instead of being excited and focusing all his attention on the upcoming game, all he could think about was you.

Were you getting undressed for someone else right now? Did you even love him anymore?

He felt his heart tug painfully, and his mind wandered as he got lost in the what-ifs and maybes surrounding your relationship. Or lack thereof now he guessed.

Never in his life did he think he would ever be in this position. Growing up he had never loved anything as much as he loved football, and when he finally made Barca’s A team he swore he never would. However, that slowly started to change when you came into his life.

You were the cute girl next door, spending a year abroad in Barcelona and attending the same school as his hometown friends. The first time he had met you was when you were walking towards your apartment, hands filled with a random assortment of papers, textbooks, and chargers. The stack of textbooks partially obstructed your view and you missed a step causing you to go flying into the midfielder.

You let out a yelp as you hit the boy, papers falling to the ground.

“Oh shit. I’m so sorry! I didn’t see the step.” You frantically apologized, bending down to gather your things.

The boy stood still.

You looked up at him from the ground, “Oh my god you’re not hurt are you?” You asked, stressed about the fact that you could have injured the poor guy.

“I’m fine.” He said, finally bending down and helping you collect your things.

You both stood up and stared at each other for a second, unsure what to say before you broke the silence.

“I’m Y/n.” You said, hand outstretched to greet him.

“Pablo.” he introduced himself, reaching out to shake your hand, laughing at your formality.

You felt your cheeks turn red, “Sorry was that too formal? I’m still trying to learn the customs and stuff. Guess Google didn’t do a good job.”

The boy smiled at you, “No problem. I’m guessing you’re not from here then?”

You shook your head, taking a minute to adjust the various things in your arms, “No I’m an exchange student actually, from the States.”

Gavi nodded, “That explains the accent.”

Your cheeks turned even redder, “Haha yah. Still working on that.” You meekly responded, breaking eye contact.

Damn it. Barely one week in a new city and you were already known as an outsider.

It was silent after that and you took it as a sign to move on with your day, “Well thanks. And sorry again.” You said, beginning to walk past him.

“Let me help you.” Gavi said, turning to face you.

“Oh no worries, my apartment’s right here.” You gestured pointing to the door next to the one he had come out of.

“You’re Mateo’s neighbor?”

You looked at him surprised, “You know Mateo? Yeah, I live next door.”

He nodded, “We’re childhood friends.”

“So do you go here as well?” You asked.

The boy shook his head, “Nah, just visiting.”

“Ok well see you around I guess.” You said, waving bye.

He gave you a wave back.

“Oh, also most people carry bags around for their stuff here!” Gavi shouted at your retreating figure.

You spun around, seeing him facing you with a grin, both of you walking backward, “I got robbed!” You exclaimed.

Gavi felt himself let out a soft smile at the memory before his brain caught up to his heart and then he was drowning in heartache all over again thinking about what he had just lost.

“Joder!” Gavi yelled, his hand slamming against the locker as he saw the call go to voicemail again.

“You ok hermano?” Pedri asked, entering the empty locker room, finding the younger boy sitting on the bench, looking extremely upset, hands shaking, and breathing labored.

“I think- I think Y/N’s cheating on me.”

The words came out barely above a whisper, and Gavi ducked his head the second he said them, the situation hitting a hundred times harder now that he had admitted it to himself.

Pedri looked at him in shock.

When he had come into the locker room, looking for a very late Gavi, he hadn’t expected to find the midfielder not only unchanged but also in such a vulnerable state.

“Why would you say that?” Pedri spoke carefully, treading lightly, not wanting to make Gavi more upset.

Gavi pulled something up on his phone, handing it over. It was an Instagram story.

A video shared by your friend meant to share the club she was at, but also unknowingly sharing you in a very compromising position.

Pedri watched as the video panned to you in a black lace dress, drink in hand, as a guy twice your size leaned into you, hands possessively laid on your waist, pulling you into him far too close to be considered friendly.

You were only in the video for a second but there was no denying it was you. You were wearing the same dress you had worn for Gavi’s birthday dinner just a few months prior.

He bit his lip not knowing what to say. He thought it could have been a misunderstanding, but seeing the video he was beginning to doubt it.

He didn’t say anything handing the phone back to Gavi.

The boy looked up at him, eyes glistening, “You saw it too right?”

Pedri sighed, “Yah. I’m sorry Pablo.”

Gavi slowly nodded, turning away from Pedri as he fought to keep his emotions at bay.

“Fucking great. Now she won’t even answer me.” He muttered throwing his phone carelessly to the side.

“And what’s the matter with you two?” Xavi walked into the locker room, seemingly not pleased with how long it was taking the two to come out.

“Game starts in twenty and you’re both dilly-dallying like some preschoolers. Get moving. Gavi get changed.” He ordered.

“Coa-” Gavi began to speak, but Xavi cut him off.

“I don’t care. Deal with it later, game first. Out in five.” He pointed to both boys before walking out.

Pedri gave Gavi one last pat on the back, “Don’t think about it now. Focus on the game.”

“It’s the only thing I can think about.” Gavi admitted.

“How could she do this? Does she not care about me, about us?” Gavi’s voice wavered, and he took a sharp inhale trying to calm himself down.

Just talking about it was emotional. He couldn’t even imagine how having a conversation with you after would feel.

Would you pretend nothing had happened? Was this your way of letting him know you guys were over? Would he ever even get to talk to you again?

There were too many unanswered questions and Gavi felt himself getting overwhelmed as he considered the possibilities.

He grabbed his jersey, forcing himself into autopilot as he put it on. He felt like he was floating, watching over himself as he did all the things he was supposed to. He watched as he joined his teammates, listened to Xavi’s instructions, and took his place in the starting lineup.

Walking onto the field, even the thousands of cheering fans did nothing to interrupt his thoughts, all of them consumed with you.

He sang the anthem, and then before he knew it he was standing in the middle of the pitch, kicking the ball into play.

The first fifteen minutes of the game went as normal, he did everything he was supposed to, running to assist the attack whenever possible, and staying back whenever the opposition got too close to the goalpost. To everyone, he was playing exactly how he normally would, and while he was grateful that he didn’t seem to be costing his team too much, he would be lying if he said he was dedicated to the game, and he hated himself for that. Mentally he was still in the locker room, replaying the moment he had seen the post over and over again in his head, memorizing the way you had looked, in his favorite dress, pressed up against someone that wasn’t him. The pain was all-encompassing, something he had never felt before, and all he wanted to do was plead with you not to leave him, to love him like you had promised.

The referee blew his whistle, indicating a foul had been made. Gavi looked up at the noise being pulled from his thoughts, he squinted seeing something behind the shouting ref.

His breath hitched. Suddenly he was crashing back into himself. It felt like being soaked with ice-cold water while simultaneously being pricked by the same needle repeatedly.

He thought he was going to vomit.

Because there you were, like you always were, standing in the family section, in his jersey, a smile on your face as you waved down at him.

Based on the fact that you were even here he assumed you didn’t know he knew.

That for some reason got him angrier than he had ever been.

He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as he turned his back to you.

So you were just going to pretend. Go and hook up with random guys and then come back to him acting like an angel.

Your smile slowly fell, confused by his reaction. You were sure he had seen you, but his expression had been anything but happy. He looked pissed.

Anna, who was sitting beside you also noticed, “Why does he seem mad?”

You shrugged your shoulders, a frown on your face as you sat back in your seat, “I have no idea.”

Your brain raced through everything that had happened in the last few days, trying to pinpoint what you did for Gavi to be mad at you. You couldn’t come up with anything. You had just got back from France, spending the weekend away for your friend’s birthday, surely, he couldn’t be mad about that. You had already talked about it and he had practically shoved you out of his car when you had asked,

“Y/n I’m serious why would you even ask me that? Of course, you can go, I’m not going to control your life.” He exclaimed, shocked by your question.

You had asked him if he was okay with you going to spend the weekend with your friend in France, and he had been less than pleased with your question.

You laughed at his offended expression, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “I know, and I love you for that. I just wanted to double check though.”

He smiled softly, “Yeah, yeah. Now get out of my car I’m going to be late!”

You smiled at the memory, sure that he wasn’t mad at you for that. So then why did he not wave back?

You had missed his calls earlier this morning on purpose wanting to surprise him by coming to his game, but you never received a text from him saying anything was wrong.

The game continued, and you cheered along with the crowd.

Gavi was playing especially aggressively today, tackling players left and right, and shoving into them the moment they got the ball.

You bit your lip anxiously, you knew if he kept playing like this it was only a matter of time before he got a red card.

Your suspicions were confirmed not even ten minutes later when Gavi had slide tackled another player, sending them flying to the ground.

Immediately the whistle blew, bodies surrounding the two players as an argument broke out. You shot out of your seat, leaning over the railing to see Gavi standing in the middle. The player he had tackled had finally stood up saying something to him. In an instant, Gavi was shoving into the much larger player, screaming at him with such fury you would have thought he had just killed his family.

It only took a minute for the ref to make a decision and then he was holding up a red card for Gavi. The player in question let out a loud yell, eyebrows furrowed and jaw set.

You watched as he shook his head in anger, walking off the pitch, eyes blazing.

You tried to make eye contact with him, but he purposely avoided looking at the stands as he disappeared into the tunnels.

The other player got a yellow card but otherwise, everything continued as normal.

You sat in your seat for another five minutes contemplating what to do when Anna decided for you, “Aren’t you going to down and see him?” She questioned.

You nodded your head slowly, trying to fight off the feeling that something was wrong, “Yeah, I just wanted to give him some time to cool down, but I’m going now.”

You stood up, an uneasy feeling in your heart as you walked towards the locker rooms.

The guard let you in without question, used to seeing you after games.

You took small steps toward the locker room, why were you so nervous?

You heard a loud bang inside and instinctively rushed in, scared Gavi had hurt himself.

You found him sitting on the floor against the bench, hands wrapped around his legs, head buried in his chest as he rocked back and forth.

Your heart broke at the sight. He looked so vulnerable.

“Pablo.” You spoke.

Gavi’s head shot up and he looked at you with so much disdain that your guard shot 100 feet up, but you stood rooted in place.

“You cost me the game.” He spoke, voice thick with emotion.

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s your fault. You did this. You made me like this.”

“What? Pablo I don’t under-”

The boy cut you off, standing up, the hurt in his eyes had you reeling, “Of fuck off Y/n, you know what you did. Stop acting so innocent.”

You were stumbling over your words not used to seeing his gaze so venomous, “I do-don’t know what you’re ta-talking about.”

He laughed dryly at your words, taking a step closer to you, “Oh really so when you fucked that guy last night you weren’t thinking “Oh maybe this might hurt Pablo”, you were just thinking, “Eh what he won’t know won’t hurt him”. Well guess what? I know.”

Your throat went dry, your eyes widening at his words. He took your actions as confirmation.

“See you do know what I’m talking about it. We’re done Y/n I can’t believe I let myself love you.”

You stood in silence.

“Do you even love me?” His voice cracked as he looked at you.

He shook his head moving to walk past you, but you jumped into action, desperate not to let him leave. Your brain was still processing everything he said but you knew if you let him walk away now that would be the end, and you couldn’t let him leave thinking you didn’t love him.

You grabbed his wrist and he immediately spun around, glaring at you, “Don’t fucking touch me.” He seethed.

You relented, refusing to let go, “Pablo, please. Just listen to me. Don’t walk away!’ You pleaded.

“I don’t have to, you already did when you decided to fuck that random guy.” He yelled.

“I didn’t. I didn’t fuck him. I swear, baby just listen to me.”

“I’m not your baby.” He answered voice cold.

You felt his words hit you like a ton of bricks, and you physically took a step back from him, dropping his hand.

He didn’t move.

“I never cheated on you. I love you, you know I would never do that, you’re too important to me.”

His anger only bubbled, “Apparently, I don’t know anything. How are you going to deny it when there’s evidence?”

“Evidence what evidence?” You asked exasperated.

“Why don’t you ask your friend Angela? At least she did me a favor by posting you pressed up against someone else.”

The realization finally hit you. He must have seen you with the guy last night, that’s why he was so upset, and you not answering his calls this morning must have just fueled his suspicions.

You suddenly felt so tired, everything was falling apart, and you didn’t have it in yourself to scream at Gavi anymore.

You sighed, walking past Gavi dropping to the floor, leaning against the locker room door.

“What are you doing?” He questioned.

“Gavi, I know you’re mad but I’m not letting you leave until you let me at least explain myself, and if you still want to hate me after then that fine. But first, just listen please.” Your voice came out gentle, all the anger dissipated.

He shook his head in anger, “You can’t fucking trap me in here. Move out of the way Y/n. Now.”

You shook your head in resistance, “No. I know how you are; I know you feel so angry right now you can’t think straight. But I promise you if you just give me a minute, I’ll explain everything. I don’t want a miscommunication to be the reason you hate me.”

He was silently fuming, but he made no move to leave.

You continued, “I’m taking it you saw the video?”

Gavi didn’t say anything but by the way his hands balled into fists you knew you were right.

You nodded, “Ok, well it was me.”

You heard Gavi let out a scoff.

“That guy was pressed into me, but what the video didn’t show was me pushing him off me not even five seconds later, drunkenly yelling at him that I had a boyfriend that I loved very much, and who was much prettier than he was. I know it probably looks bad in the video, but he was just so much bigger than me that it took me a minute to fight him off.”

“Also, when he first came up to me, I genuinely thought he was asking me directions for the bathroom, not asking me to go with him.” You clarified.

It was silent.

“Why were your arms around him?”

“I was shoving him away. Obviously, I can’t do that with just my mind – no matter how much I want to.” You tried to lighten the mood, but Gavi only sighed.

Your shoulders deflated; he didn’t believe you.

You moved to the side of the door, “You can leave.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Gavi spared you one last glance before he walked out the door, leaving you alone in the locker room.

Your eyes watched him leave and the second the door shut behind him you covered your mouth with your hands, shoulders shaking as you let out the sobs you had been holding in.

Is this what being heartbroken felt like? Sure, you had relationships that end in the past on less-than-stellar terms, but never had you felt like this. Like you couldn’t breathe, like every small breath was squeezing your body, leaving you with no oxygen and an unbearable feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You sniffled, trying to pull yourself back together. You had to leave before the game ended and the team came back.

You were in the middle of wiping your tears when the door swung open again.  

“Fuck this, I’m not leaving. I took five steps before I realized how stupid I’m being. I believe you. I trust you – but it’s just so hard because my mind is screaming at me to leave but all my heart is thinking about is how I’m letting go of the most real thing I’ve ever felt, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I left you like that all alone.” Gavi spoke, voice firm as he came to sit next to you.

You looked over at him with wide eyes, “You came back?”

He nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing, as he scooched closer to you, “I always will.”

[cl3fairyyy]

˗ˏˋ routine // edward nashton x GN! reader ˎˊ˗

summary // edward has always gone through life in solitude. he has the same routine, day in and day out, and he doesn't change that for anyone. he doesn't have time for friendship and looks down on his coworkers; their shallow gossip and strained smalltalk isn't worth his time. his way of thinking is soon flipped on its head when KTMJ hires a pretty receptionist to greet him every morning before work. what starts as innocent pining (as innocent as it gets for edward, anyway), soon spirals into something more, faster than he can control. alternatively, you score a cushy receptionist gig and start crushing on your cute coworker lol.

warnings // very brief mention of healed sh scars. edward and the reader smoke- reader is GN but is described as "pretty" multiple times. eddie is a little strange in this but that is just customary for him atp lol. a little angsty but mostly fluffy coworkers to more bc eddie deserves more soft fics :c no use of y/n!!

word count // 4.5k

notes // I haven't written a fic since my wattpad days so my apologies if this isn't great </3 I have been pining after the green man for far too long and have so many ideas in my system that need to come out !! I hope Edward isn't too OOC and would love any feedback on how to write him better :)) I might do a pt 2 if anyone is interested hehe

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Edward has never found any substance in socialising at work. He has never found the tedious break room small talk and uninteresting (probably fabricated) gossip that floats around the office to be very meaningful, and for the five years that he has worked at KTMJ, he has never had so much as a conversation, let alone friendship, with any of his colleagues. 

His daily routine is fairly simple: wake up, go to work, come home, eat (if he remembers), and sleep. All without interacting with anyone. Edward lies to himself, convinces himself that he prefers, even enjoys, living like this. He has crawled through this city, through this life, in solitude, and he has always been fine. 

But the ache in his heart and the lump in his throat when he lies awake at night, running calloused fingers over faded scars, say otherwise.  

Edward is lonely. 

His mind tends to wander when he turns in bed to look out the window. He watches groups of friends, drunk and stumbling down the old, cracked streets of Gotham, their rapturous (and rather obnoxious, he thinks) laughter echoing through his open apartment window. He imagines himself drunkenly walking alongside them, sharing inside jokes and funny anecdotes that make their cheeks red with laughter, and when he drifts off to sleep, he dreams of waking up in another body, another life, where he simply belongs. 

He wakes up on a day like any other, in his cold, empty apartment, alone. He begins his routine, shoving a piece of expired bread in the toaster as he neatens his tie and pulls on his loafers. He is happy with this routine. He eats alone at the table, checking his watch, mindful of the 8:15 bus. He leaves his apartment and catches the bus just as it arrives at his stop. The driver, an older lady, offers him a smile. He keeps his head down. He is happy with this routine. He enters the office earlier than usual, hoping to get in some extra work to avoid staying any later than he must. He is happy with- 

He pauses. 

The receptionist, a woman far too old to not be retired, does not greet him with the flick of her pen as she completes the morning crossword. 

The routine is disrupted. 

His coworkers are crowded around his boss' door, straining to see through the tiny window separating "us" from "them." Edward's mind is clouded with confusion as he catches the eye of one of his colleagues, a man named Will, a man he can't stand, a man who acquired his position (as Edward's supervisor) straight out of college, through daddy's money and connections. 

The routine is disrupted. 

"Word is that we have a new receptionist." He fills Edward in. Edward wonders if he only tells him this through some feeling of obligation, rather than wanting to share the latest office gossip with him. He simply nods, making his way to his desk.  

Back to the routine. 

After possibly the most intimidating introduction to a boss you have ever experienced, you are given a brief tour of your new office and shown to your new desk. You are given your new tasks and set to work on your new job. 

To be honest, it isn't entirely difficult. You are certainly overqualified, but you can't complain about being paid above minimum wage, in Gotham, in your twenties, for such a simple job. You remember reading that the best way to make a good first impression at a new job is to introduce yourself to your new colleagues, and, despite the anxiety welling in your throat, you put on a bright smile and set off to do just that. 

For the most part, your colleagues are nice, a bit bored, but they seem interested in you and that surely must be a start, right?  

The girl whose desk you're currently standing in front of (her name is Kate, you think?) perks up suddenly, seemingly remembering something. She gestures for you to sit next to her, and you do just that.  

"You seem nice. Like, really nice. But you seem like the kind of person who is so nice that it borders on naiveté." You tilt your head in confusion but nod for her to continue. "I want you to, y'know, actually have a chance of fitting in here. So let me give you some advice." 

She glances around inconspicuously before lowering her voice and tilting her head back ever so subtly. "That guy over there. Glasses. Yeah- okay, try not to make it so obvious that I'm talking about him. Don't bother trying to get a word out of him. The guy doesn't talk to anyone, and believe me, we have tried getting him to. I don't know if he's shy or thinks he's better than us or what, but he seriously is, like, mute. All he does is come to work and go home. He even eats his lunch at his desk." 

You try and mimic her subtlety, glancing up to catch a glimpse at the desk tucked neatly in the corner, and you're met with eyes behind glasses staring right back at you. You quickly look away, your cheeks burning at the embarrassment of being caught talking about someone. 

She smiles sympathetically at you. 

"I know this schtick you've got going on. Introducing yourself to the office so that we all like you." 

She snorts at your expression and continues. 

"Hey, chill out. It's seriously endearing. I was the exact same when I started and, to be fair, it seems to be working for you. I just don't want you to get offended or anything trying to talk to Edward over there, and getting nothing out of him, y'know?" 

You offer Kate a grateful smile and rise from your seat. 

"Thanks for the warning. I think I'd like to at least say hi to him anyway." 

All she offers you is a shrug, as if saying, "don't say I didn't warn you," as you wander over to Edward's desk. 

You smile at him, introducing yourself and holding out your hand to shake. Okay, he's actually pretty cute up close, you think, with big green eyes concealed by glasses that have slipped slightly down his faintly freckled nose. He meets your enthusiasm with a blank stare and a readjustment of his glasses, and your shoulders deflate a little.  

"You're, uh, you're Edward, right? That's what it says on your name tag, anyway."  

Silence. 

You giggle nervously. 

"Well, I- anyway, I'm the new receptionist. I'm really happy to be working with you." 

You're surprised at the sincerity in your tone, and Edward must be too, because you swear you notice his stoic expression falter for a second. 

Your hand begins to shake as it remains in front of his face, and the air grows thick with awkwardness. It feels like every single pair of eyes in the office is on the both of you. You begin to retract your hand when Edward gingerly reaches forward and shakes it limply. His bored expression doesn't change as he does so. 

"Likewise." 

With that single word uttered, he carries on typing away at his computer, completely ignoring you. Your legs seem to work at their own volition as they carry you back to your desk, your cheeks pink. 

Unbeknownst to you, Edward has been observing your every move since you stepped out of the boss' office. His desk is at the perfect angle, giving him a direct view of your own, and he had watched you approach all of your colleagues to give your little introduction speech. He had seen you chatting discreetly with Kate, and he had caught you peeking up to look at him. He had figured Kate had warned you to steer clear of him, and the thought had made his stomach sink. 

He thought you were very pretty, and since he had first caught a passing glimpse of you, his mind instantly had began to wander to thoughts of him approaching your desk, introducing himself confidently and charming you all within your first interaction. 

He had shaken his head at that, embarrassed by his little fantasy. He has never known the feeling of confidence in his life, and he had quickly resigned himself to thinking that you would be yet another coworker he would never interact with, besides a quick "good morning," and "good night," at the beginning and end of each day. 

The routine continues, and he is happy with that. 

The routine continues until it doesn't, until you meekly approach his desk and smile at him, and oh God up close you are so much prettier, he thinks, and then you're extending your hand for him to shake, that same dimpled smile on your face fading when he doesn't even acknowledge the action. 

Of course he manages to make you uncomfortable within the first five seconds of interacting with him. Before his mind can catch up with his body, he is shaking your hand and uttering the first word he has spoken in this office in a long time.  

He instantly has to break the intense eye contact he has held with you, pretending to type numbers into his computer, praying the colour of his cheeks doesn't betray him. 

When you walk away he feels guilty, he wishes he could will you back to his desk so he could play off his awkwardness as a joke, so he could pretend he is someone much cooler and much more interesting than Edward Nashton. 

But he can't. 

He has to watch you walk away, back to your desk, your head down to hide your embarrassment. 

When 5pm hits, you stand from your desk, stretching. God, that spinny chair does something awful for your back. You're packing up your things when Edward passes your desk. You offer him a smile as you wish him goodnight, fully expecting him to ignore you. 

Instead, he pauses and turns to give you a small nod before exiting the building and all of a sudden it feels like your face is on fire and your heart is pounding like you've just ran a marathon. 

Oh no. 

Of course you get a crush on your first day, and of course it has to be on the one person in the building that has uttered one singular word to you. 

You lie awake that night, tossing and turning in bed as thoughts of your colleague cloud your mind. Sure, you've always had a thing for nerdy guys, but nerdy guys who have a reputation around your office for being a complete recluse? Seriously? 

But he had spoken to you, he had acknowledged your existence. So what the hell does that mean? You sigh, rubbing your eyes before popping a melatonin. Your mind is racing a thousand miles a minute and you know there is no way you're getting to sleep otherwise.  

Edward's mind swarms with thoughts of you as he lies in bed, willing himself to fall asleep. He picks up his phone, reading the time, and sighs, opening up your social media page for seemingly the thousandth time that night.  

He has already scrolled through your entire account, has already studied every single photo and video you have posted until he has them memorised. He swipes through pictures of you at bars with your friends, videos of you dancing on vacation with tan lines and pink cheeks, and the countless selfies you have with your dog on your page.  

He imagines you introducing him to your friend group and him befriending them over drinks in your favourite bar. He imagines taking you away on lavish trips to Europe, Asia, South America, all the places you have on the bucket list posted on your profile. He imagines a domestic life built together, sharing an apartment with you and your dog, and he falls asleep with an unfamiliar warmth in his chest, hope rushing through his veins for the first time in a long time. 

Over the next few months, you grow closer with your colleagues- close to the point that you even see them outside of office hours. Close to the point that, when deadlines are met and the entire office throws a party to celebrate, Kate always manages to convince you to tag along. Close to the point that, after a long week, you and the small circle of friends you have made go out for drinks to unwind- and you have even found yourself inviting your other coworkers to join you. 

All of your coworkers, except one. 

The guilt consumes you every time you pack up to leave, smiling and laughing with your colleagues, when you catch a glimpse of Edward hunched over his monitor, ready to log even more hours of overtime. You have always considered inviting him along, but the only words he ever utters to you are quiet greetings every morning and the occasional "good night," when he leaves the office before you do. You don't even know if he likes you. 

You certainly like him. 

You're sure the blush on your face is undeniable every time you accidentally lock eyes with him when you swivel absentmindedly in your chair, or when you hand him his mail (which is rare for him to receive, you've noticed). You always try and find excuses to talk to him, and every time you do, you're left stumbling over your words and pink in the cheeks while he remains completely unfazed, unbothered and silent. 

You're determined to at least invite him for drinks. At any rate, if he says no, you can comfort yourself with the knowledge that you tried to develop some kind of friendship with him (while secretly hoping for more).  

It is such an easy task, one you have discussed frequently with your coworkers many a time, who have repeatedly encouraged you to offer an invitation to Edward- so you don't understand why it feels like lead weights have been tied to your feet and sandpaper has dried out your mouth when you mentally prepare yourself to go and speak to the infamous office recluse. 'It's no big deal! It's just drinks with colleagues!' you remind yourself, but the rapid beating of your heart does nothing to comfort you. 

You finally internally berate yourself enough to stand up and, as casually as you can, wander over to Edward's desk, a friendly smile on your face. Your shadow over his desk forces him to acknowledge you. 

You clear your throat somewhat awkwardly before saying with as much (casual) enthusiasm as you can muster, "me and some of the others are gonna head out for drinks pretty soon. We'd love for you to come!" 

You notice his eyes subtly squint behind his glasses as he sizes you up, before shaking his head, his gaze flickering back down to his monitor. 

"Can't. Got some messy paperwork here that needs correcting, and it can't wait until Monday." 

Your smile falters slightly and you manage to nod in understanding. "That sucks. We would've really liked you there. I wouldn't want it to eat up too much of your evening, so I won't keep you from it. Have a nice weekend, Edward!" 

His head lifts at your mention of his name, and when you smile at him, turning to leave, he clears his throat. quietly 

"I'm, ah, I'm sorry about that. Maybe some other time..." 

You nod in agreement, giving him one last smile before heading out with your colleagues. Oh well. At least you tried. 

Edward screams at himself internally for being stupid enough to turn you down, for having so much work on his plate that he has to reject an offer to spend time with you. His logic tries to argue with him that you are just a distraction from his greater plans, but for the first time in his life, he finds himself listening to his heart rather than his head.  

The routine is disrupted. 

The following Monday, instead of clocking in at 8:30am, Edward finds himself in the office at 7:45 that morning to begin his work day. When you enter the building (earlier than usual, he notes), you manage to shake off the shock of seeing anyone else here at this time, and give Edward a little wave. 

You sigh as you sink into your chair, lazily replying to the emails that have piled up over the weekend. While this cushy job has its benefits, God, the actual work is boring.  

You catch yourself repeatedly turning subtly in your chair to watch Edward work. Even though he's so far away, you recognise that concentrated look he has on his face when a particularly messy set of fraudulent taxes have him stumped. Before you can register what you're doing, you're walking across the empty office right up to his desk and Jesus, your hands are sweaty as hell. 

You manage to discreetly wipe them on your slacks before he looks up at you, his stressed expression all the greeting you need to begin talking. "I know we usually say good morning at my desk, but you were clocked in even earlier than me this morning." Your sentence ends with an anxious giggle, and when he narrows his eyes in confusion, you continue. "I, um, couldn't help but notice that you looked a little stressed... can I get you something to help? Water, coffee, anything? I'm all finished catching up on my emails so..." 

You trail off a little awkwardly and you swear you see Edward's lip quirk up in a tiny smile before returning to his usual poker face. You mentally slap yourself for expecting to get anything out of him; it's not even 9am and you've already annoyed him. Great. 

"If it's really no bother... I take my coffee black, one sugar. Thank you." 

He says the last part quietly, looking down. You smile, and head for the break room to get his drink, your hands shaking giddily. You have somehow gotten more words out of him in five months than any of your colleagues have in five years. You see that as a win. 

Edward sees it as the complete opposite. His brain is in chaos trying to focus on work but constantly wandering back to new daydreams of you. Daydreams of living together in your shared apartment, where you make him coffee every morning and bring it to him in bed. He can't help admiring you from afar, the way your well (tight) fitting slacks cling to you in the best way, and he has to physically rest his head on his desk to remind himself of where he is before his thoughts get too carried away. 

You place the styrofoam cup down in front of Edward and he nods gratefully. You take a sip from your own cup, watching him work, before you realise you're being weird, still lingering around his desk like some creep. You cough awkwardly. "I'm, uh, going to go sit back down now, let you get back to it. I hope the coffee isn't too gross." 

It's perfect, Edward thinks as he watches you wander back to your desk, and well after 5pm, when everyone has left, he fishes through the trash can uncer your desk and retrieves your styrofoam cup from that morning, placing it in a ziplock bag and taking it home with him. 

This is Edward's new routine. He comes into work early every day and sits in the empty office, doing as much work as he can so that he can muster up the courage to one day, finally join you after work instead of being swamped with tasks. For weeks, every Friday, you invite him to come drink with your little group, and every Friday he finds some flimsy excuse to flake on you, anxiety tightening his throat and dampening his forehead. 

You begin thinking you must be bothering him- he hasn't once accepted your invitation, and you tell yourself after each awkward encounter, 'this is the last time.' Yet, each week, you find yourself stood at his desk, legs trembling and mouth dry, anticipating rejection. 

Until, one Friday in late February, he gives you an awkward smile, shuffling the mess of papers on his desk. 

"I, ah, managed to wrap up these returns... I'll come along, if you want me to." 

You can barely believe your ears, and your shock must be evident because Edward begins to flush under your gaze. You clear your throat, a bright smile on your face as you bounce on the balls of your feet. "Oh, that's great! We're ready to leave when you are." 

Your small group bursts out of the office, your noses red from the February chill. You notice Edward lagging behind a little, and slow your pace to walk alongside him. 

"I'm really glad you took us up on our offer finally. We found this sweet little hole in the wall bar only a little way from here, and happy hour lasts until 9 on Fridays." You grin at him. "I know I don't know much about you, but I really think you'll like it. The vibes are super chill, and they play some decent music. You like The Cure, right?" 

Edward tilts his head curiously, and you flush as you scramble to explain yourself, so you don’t come off as an actual stalker. 

"I, just, um... I could hear you listening to them last week when I came into work early." 

He smiles, and the sincerity of it makes your knees go wobbly. 

"Yeah, hah, I- um- listened to them a lot when I was young. I guess I never really grew out of it." He chuckles nervously, fiddling with the strap of his work bag.  

You find a booth in the corner, and your group crams in, sharing the latest office gossip and complaining about how heavy the workload has been recently. You find yourself sat next to Edward and you smile at him as you settle back into the cracked vinyl of the booth, sipping your drink. 

"I can't imagine coming into a bar and ordering water after how much you've worked this week. How are you not halfway through a bottle of whiskey right now?" You laugh lightly, beginning to feel pleasantly buzzed. Edward readjusts his glasses and thanks God that the red LED lights hide his pink cheeks. "I'm not really a big drinker... I prefer to be in control of my actions." He pauses, eyeing you clutching your drink in his peripheral vision, before clearing his throat. "N- not that there's anything wrong with drinking. I just, uh, have never really been a fan. I don't think it tastes very nice." 

You giggle, slapping his arm lightly. "You don't need to explain yourself to me, Edward. I was only kidding."  

After an hour or two, and a few more cocktails, the bar begins to liven up a little. Most of your friends have gotten up to dance, but you ignore them, deep in conversation with Edward about Gotham's current political climate. 

"I thought I was the only one! Seriously, that shitbag of a mayor gets nowhere near enough criticism. They're corrupt, the lot of them, and I can only hope they get what's coming to-" 

You pause, realising Edward is distracted. He fidgets with the sleeve of his jacket while rapidly bouncing his knee up and down, and you notice him cringing at the volume of the music. 

You lean forward, resting a hand on his arm, your voice quiet as you whisper in his ear, "wanna go for a smoke?" 

Your voice is a lovely contrast to the music blaring from the speaker, Edward thinks, and he can smell your perfume with you in such close proximity. It's sweet and flowery, and he wishes he could have you this close to him forever. 

He nods, quickly standing and leading you out of the packed bar. The cold air hits you like a slap in the face as you make your exit, and you immediately regret leaving your jacket on your seat as you hug yourself, trying to stay warm under the broken heat lamps. 

Edward fishes a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and holds it out to you. You smile gratefully, plucking one from the box and holding it between your teeth. Your freezing hands tremble, fumbling the lighter in your hands, and you groan in frustration as the wind keeps blowing the flame out. Edward watches you from the corner of his eye and chuckles lightly, a newfound wave of confidence surging through him. 

"Want a hand?" 

You sigh, shutting your eyes and nodding in defeat. Edward laughs again, and it is a lovely sound; his laugh has an almost falsetto quality to it, and you can't help but smile back at him, your cheeks warm. 

Edward takes the lighter from you, his other hand reaching to cup over your own, protecting your lips from the biting wind as he lights your cigarette for you. 

It is such a simple action. 'There's nothing behind it!' you think, but it holds such an undeniable sense of intimacy. His warm hand lingers on yours, warming your entire body, and he doesn't break your gaze when he finally pulls away to light his own cigarette. 

The two of you stand in silence for several moments, watching the smoke you breathe out dance into the night sky, disappearing from view. You feel so relaxed around him, and you turn your head to watch him study the night sky, his eyes darting this way and that before landing on you. He smiles shyly. 

"I had a nice time tonight. I... honestly wasn't expecting to." 

He notices your face fall slightly before he quickly continues. "I wouldn't usually call this kind of place my thing, but... I found myself really enjoying myself. The company certainly didn't hurt." 

You smile at that, and he eagerly returns it. 

"Forgive me if I'm overstepping, but... I'd like to take you out sometime. Just me and you, away from all the noise." 

Edward can hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth, and he's convinced he's dreaming. The smile on your face only grows. 

"You mean, like a date?" 

The redness of his cheeks deepens, and he nods, his knees feeling weak. You begin jotting something down in your notepad before pressing a folded-up piece of paper into his hand, blowing a plume of smoke just past his face. He can almost taste the nicotine and tequila on your lips as you lean towards him, your voice barely above a whisper. 

"I'm looking forward to it." 

With that, you flick your cigarette on the floor and turn on your heel, heading back into the bar. Edward unfolds the slip of paper to be met with the phone number he has had memorised since your first day working at KTMJ five months ago. 

The routine is disrupted. 

[aziraphales-library]

Hi!

Thanks for your hard work keeping your system organized! Really helps during my 3AM reading sessions lol.

I was wondering if there are any “and there was only one bed” fanfics for Aziracrow? Thanks!

We have #there was only one bed and #sharing a bed tags, so take a look at those! Here are some more to add...

Away by HopeCoppice (G)

They can command reservations at the Ritz at a moment's notice. They can perform miracles, or the demonic equivalent, for- well, for Somebody's sake. There is absolutely no way that they should ever be able to find themselves in a situation where there is only one bed. And yet.

Welcome to the Petty Party by Mimsynims (E)

Oh fuck. It was him. Crowley tried to make himself smaller where he was sitting in the back of the Greyhound bus. It had been almost a year - and another continent - since he last saw him, but there was no mistaking that blonde fluff of hair or those strong shoulders on the man entering the bus. It was Aziraphale. Fortunately there were very few other passengers, and Aziraphale chose a seat in the middle of the bus, sitting down without spotting Crowley further in the back.  Seeing him now catapulted him back in time, to that fateful night in Birmingham - the one and only time they’d met.   Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves stranded in a motel for the night - sharing a room. Last time they met, they spent the night together. Now they are both - wrongfully - convinced that the other never wanted more than a one night stand. (Basically, this is a "there was only one bed" PWP)

Warmth by HolyCatsAndRabbits (E)

The excitement of spending a day traveling with Crowley had turned to deep embarrassment. Rather than a flight followed by a late dinner somewhere and then a night apart, Aziraphale was cold, wet, hungry, and injured, in the wrong city, and facing a night sharing a room with his secret crush in which there was only one bed. And— Aziraphale looked down at what he was holding. Flannel pajamas, tartan ones. He was going to have to go back out there and face the ever-elegant Crowley in his night clothes.

No Such Thing As An Omen by FeralTuxedo (E)

On a snowy New Year’s Eve, rock star Anthony Crowley arrives at Tadfield Manor Hotel to check into his room. Under a fake name, naturally. But to his dismay, it has already been claimed, and the deceptively angelic impostor with the audacity to have stolen Crowley’s alias as well as his room doesn’t appear to want to vacate it any time soon.

Romancing The Tome by Anti_kate (E)

Romance novelist Aziraphale Wilder is pulled from his carefully ordered life when his sister is kidnapped and held to ransom. With the help of antiquities forger Anthony J Crowley, he braves the wilds of Scotland to rescue her and keep a priceless book from falling into the hands of dangerous book thieves.

Waking Up Slow by the_moonmoth (E)

“Then you’ll just have to come back with me," Aziraphale said. “You what?” “You’ll have to come and isolate with me, at my cottage.” The thing about messing with people, Crowley thought, was that sometimes, they genuinely surprised you. After both being exposed to coronavirus, total strangers Crowley and Aziraphale are forced to wait out their isolation together. A tale of soft winter romance by the sea.

- Mod D

[allidoistrytrytryy]

a moment's silence when my baby puts her mouth on me (cove holden x reader)

ao3 version here

summary: Cove Holden and the black underwear (from Patreon moment 2, if you know you know), except it's his own surprise on a random Friday (smut with feelings)

word count: 3,116 words

tags: smut, porn with feelings, porn without plot, light dom/sub, switching, sexual intimacy, they're in love your honour, author has been feeling insane about cove for years and lately about the black underwear so here we are (female reader implied but i tried to be as non-descriptive as possible, can be a male trans reader too)

You were exhausted, your fingers rubbed at your eyelids and at your forehead, trying to take the headache away.

You had had a large project at your job, long hours, and planning that took too much of your time. You came home late, too late, so late sometimes Cove would already be in bed or asleep on the couch, always waiting for you (even though you had told him to sleep, not to wait up for you if you were too late, but he insisted every time).

You sighed at the thought of your fiancee. You missed him too much, missed being able to have time with him, going out on weekends or lazing around after work to watch a show you would fall asleep through anyway, snuggled in his warmth.

You hadn’t been able to do that in more than two weeks, always working, always in contact with your coworkers to continue the project even deep into the night. You were glad today was the presentation, and then you were taking a few days off, away from everything.

You felt the fear in your gut at the presentation. You were nerves on legs, as you always were when you had to talk in front of an audience. You knew that would never change, the way you spaced out, waiting and waiting, at your desk.

Your phone buzzed on your desk, which took you out of your thoughts and the ball in your stomach. A smile crept up on your face before you even had the time to read what the text said, at the name appearing on your screen.

Cove.

Romeo: You have this, show them what you’re made of. Love you. <3

You smiled hard, your finger rubbing at the heart emoji with the text, at the picture you had set as his picture on your phone. A picture of him asleep on your couch, snuggled under a blanket, his long hair freed from its usual low bun.

You hadn’t been able to resist the urge to take a picture, and your fingers had gone through his hair.

You sent him a heart back, now fired back up. You could do this, go home and kiss your fiancee senselessly until you fell asleep snuggled into his warmth.

And the presentation happened. It went well, and you shared smiles and compliments with your colleagues. Sighs of relief. You could all go home peacefully tonight.

Which you did. You sprinted to your car when the hour came, your colleagues’ laughter following you down the elevator. They all knew you were eager to be home again, to be with the fiancee you talked about too much. (You couldn’t help it. You loved Cove Holden too much, loved him since you were eight. What could you do?)

The drive went quickly and you arrived at your little place a bit further from the city in record time. When you parked in your spot, next to Cove’s car who was already there and home, you realized you had forgotten to send him a text. You bit your lip, hoping he hadn’t waited for it.

Five unread texts with Cove inquiring about the presentation, worried. Shit.

You climbed the stairs of the apartment complex quickly, your keys already in hand. You entered.

”I’m home! Sorry, I completely forgot to answer your texts, I’m so so...” You interrupted yourself by the sight of your living room, your coffee table with a range of plates and food, and even a cake.

Hands sneaked around your waist, a kiss on your hair, a chest against your back. Your fiancee enveloped you, mint, citrus and this particular ocean smell in your nose and you finally relaxed. “Hi sweetheart, how was it?” he asked gently.

You turned around in his arms and, as always, you had to crane your neck to look up into his eyes. You hadn't been fortunate with height while Cove had had too much of it over the years. His arms circled your waist. “Went smoothly, we can finally breathe now,” you answered and got on your tiptoes to kiss him quickly, which he answered with that giddy smile he never lost around you. “Now, what’s all of this, Covie?”

”Well, I knew it would go perfectly since it’s you,” you rolled your eyes at the remark but the smile betrayed you, the blush even more. “and wanted to celebrate it. I got your favorite things from your favorite places and got a cake.”

Cove looked like it wasn’t even an effort, and it wasn’t in your relationship. You both made so much effort, so much again and again for each other that it was just normal. But, it didn't change the fact that you were always touched by every gesture.

You still couldn’t phantom how dear you were to this man sometimes. You still couldn’t understand how your heart never seemed to stop expanding for him, taking in every piece, every detail, every word and action from him.

Your hands dragged his face to you, to kiss him deeply, like you had wanted to since you had finished the project. He sighed against your lips, that content sigh, his lips and tongue entangled with yours. An intimacy you could never get enough of.

”I love you so much,” you whispered against his lips and his eyes misted over, your crybaby, always yours.

”I love you too,” he whispered as if he didn’t want to break the calm of the moment, wanted to stay in this moment suspended in time.

Until you dragged him to the couch to drape yourself over him, eating and barely paying attention to whatever was on the TV as background noise. You talked about the project. He talked about his day and his own job.

When you finished, he pushed you to the bathroom. “Go take a bath, relax, I got the dishes,” Cove reassured and you pouted.

”But, I can help, I didn’t get dinner so it should be me,” you whined in his shoulder and he laughed while pushing in the bathroom while you couldn’t do anything.

”No way. Go, now,” he kissed your cheek and you still pouted as you got into the bathroom.

You did well on what he had told you to do, spending too much time in a hot bath until it got cold, your body wrapped in your comfortable fuzzy robe. You finally stepped out to get to the bedroom, itching to put your pajamas on, and fall asleep next to Cove.

The too-large shirt was in your hands, actually just one of Cove’s shirts you had stolen and never returned, as you did since you were teenagers, even before you were officially truly together. You hadn’t realized why the light was so dim, hadn't realized Cove was on the bed.

You turned your head slowly and you felt your knees wobble, felt your eyes widen until they almost popped out of your skull.

You had seen Cove in all types of clothes and nakedness over the years. You knew him and his body by heart, the moles, the sleeve on his right arm that you loved to kiss all over, the dips, and where the redness would creep. But right now? You were speechless.

Cove fucking Holden was sat against the headboard, half-lidded eyes on you, but you could see the blush high on his face and ears and down his neck. He was naked, well, except for the underwear but it was the underwear that made you want to scream.

It was black but it barely hid anything, the green happy trail visible from that delicious V-shape you liked to bite, down a dangerous low dip. Straps followed his hips and they showed his hipbones. You almost wanted to ask him to get up and show the back, to see how it looked over that ass you loved too much.

”Surprise,” he simply said, wanting to sound sultry but ending up at excited, embarrassed, waiting.

The shirt slipped through your fingers, forgotten on the floor, and you were still speechless. “What...are you...” you swallowed hard, heat at the back of your neck, on your ears.

Large shoulders were shrugged and he tilted his head, “I… we talked about how I wanted to try some...lingerie out and I thought it would be a good idea for a celebration.”

He was still waiting and you could see how waiting affected him, the redness ever more present on his face and down his neck, the quick jostle of his knee. You approached the bed slowly, eyes laser-focused on him.

You could feel a restraint slowly unfurling in your gut, a wait. You had missed Cove and his hands on you, you had missed the everyday intimacy but you had also missed the sexual intimacy you shared. You both couldn’t have enough of each other sometimes, a pull between your hearts and your bodies.

Your hands settled on the edge of the bed, and you crawled slowly to him, putting up a show for his eyes and his eyes only. The robe dipped down and he gulped, his eyes on your cleavage, on your bare chest visible underneath. You smirked, finding a place between his legs, hands on his thighs, so so close to the dangerous piece of underwear that threatened your composure.

”So, you decided to gift my eyes with this, baby?” you whispered, a finger playing with a strap at his hip. “You’re way too good for me.”

Cove gulped again and you wanted to bite at his Adam’s apple, leaving marks on his pale skin until everybody would know. He shook his head.

”What? You don't agree that you’re too good for me?” you asked, a little pout at the words, your eyes on his face. You were playing the game of how sultry you could be, how much you could push it until his own restraints broke. “Maybe I should show you.”

Your hands traced the straps and the edges of the underwear. Your mouth found a nipple as your hands traced but never touched where you could feel a hardness growing and growing. His moans hit your ears and you smiled, your tongue playing from one nipple to another.

”You don't have to...” he tried to say, his moans high, and god, did you love how vocal he could be. He was always so vocal, so good.

”I want to, so be a good boy, baby,” you whispered, bit at the side of his chest, so muscular, so pretty. He moaned higher, hips bucking against your chest. Your mouth traveled down and down, following the green trail of hair. “Driving me crazy with this, Covie.”

Your hands caressed the hardness over the fabric, but your mouth found the tip already out with how hard he was. The dip was so low that the tip was the only thing visible, so your tongue swirled around it, the saltiness hitting your tastebuds. You moaned, fingers at the straps.

”Oh my god," Cove whined loudly, hips bucking again, the tip making its way deeper into your mouth. “Shit, sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean to...”

You shook your head and pulled at the straps downward, until the underwear sat underneath his cock and you pushed more and more into your mouth, desperate for more, to make him feel even better.

”Fuck, fuck, fuck," you heard him repeat and you wanted to smile, to tease him like you always did because he only ever cursed in those moments, so gone, so desperate.

More and more, until you felt tears in your eyes, until you breathed through your nose, hands at what you couldn’t fit down your throat because of how big he was. But you loved it, thighs clenching to relieve the ache that formed in between.

It wasn’t about you, even though you could spend hours between his legs, to look at his head thrown back, his eyes closed and face scrunched up, like now. He looked out of this world, long hair around his head, down his shoulders, redness still at his face, sweat down his neck and on his chest. You couldn’t believe he was yours still.

”Shit, sweetheart, I’m gonna… I’m...” Cove’s voice rang out and you felt how tight his balls were getting, see how his abs tightened. He was close, and a part of you wanted him to cum in your mouth, but you had another plan.

You popped off his hardness with a loud pop, saliva around your mouth, and his head rose up, his eyes opened in question. You crawled back up his body, your hands opening your robe, until you could throw it on the floor beside the large bed. You settled on his lap, hands on his shoulders.

You swatted his hands away before they could fall on your hips, and you saw the small pout on his face that you kissed away with a laugh. “Sorry, no touching baby, be good a bit longer for me,” you kissed along his face, nibbled at his neck, leaving a few hickeys as your hips moved, your wetness rubbing on his cock.

Cove whined still against your shoulder, “But you look so good… And you’re so wet,” he moaned, groaned. “Let me touch you, please,” he begged but you shook your head, your hips rising up to catch the tip at the edge of your wetness, of your warmth.

You slowly sunk down, your own moan unable to stay in your throat at the delicious burn his cock always gave you, that fullness that always took your breath away. You hummed as you sank lower and lower.

His eyes were closed tightly, his body trembled when you finished back on his lap, the length fully inside you. You stayed still, enjoying the moment, and his hands stayed beside his hips, beside the underwear that was still underneath his cock, trapping his legs in place. He was taut, all muscles tight and restrained.

”Please, please, move," Cove begged and you could only answer with your hips moving up and slamming back down.

Your moans intertwined with Cove’s, as you rode him, slowly, building a faster rhythm with every breath, every moan. You rode him, a deep pleasure building in your stomach, pleasure built with his moans in your ear, your teeth at his shoulder.

You rode him until your thighs trembled and his hips, so restrained until now, slammed up in response. You almost screamed his name. It had hit that one spot deep inside and your body had fallen down onto his chest.

All restraint broke in his body, his hands at your hips, so tight you knew you would feel them still tomorrow, “Sorry, I can’t...” he breathed out, before his hips slammed up again and again, his hands guiding your hips down every time.

“Fuck, Cove, Cove,” you repeated his name, your forehead on his shoulder, your eyes on the spot that joined your two bodies together, his cock sliding in and out.

His name on your lips broke him again and you lost all control you had on the situation. His hands manhandled you on your back, almost ripped the underwear that had started it all off his legs, and he had your legs folded against his chest before he slid back in.

The breath was knocked out of your chest, your hands tugged at his hair, and your eyes were on him always. The muscles bulging with every movement, the sweat trickling down, the pure ferocity and desperation on his face.

Cove wasn't always pushed to this side of dominance, if not ever. Not to this degree. You both liked to switch, to play with what were the limits and new things, but falling back into lovemaking most of the time. Here, your gentle sweet Cove was gone, to leave a rougher Cove you loved too, your moans encouraging him.

”Don’t stop, Cove, don’t stop," you begged, hands desperate in his hair, hips moving to answer every thrust deep inside, against the spot. You could barely talk and he could only groan and moan, his own mouth busy on your nipples, back arched.

You were getting closer and closer, and he could feel it, the way you arched more and more, the way you were tighter and tighter around him, the way your moans only got louder. His eyes were on your face, a hand moving down from your hip to the nub of nerves, so wet from everything.

Your head tilted back into the pillow, “Cove, I’m… I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, warned and he hummed in response, his thumb insistent on your clit, in time with every thrust. Your back arched even more, the pleasure exploding in your stomach, behind your eyes, and in your whole body until you were left a trembling thing underneath Cove.

His thrusts slowed down, but your hips moved and you shook your head. “No, don't stop, need you to cum,” you croaked out, voice spent, hands still tugging at his hair.

”I don’t want to hurt you,” Cove moaned over you, eyes half-lidded on your face, but you shook your head again. You tugged him closer, forehead against his.

”You can’t hurt me. Please Cove, I love you, please,” you begged, his thrusts were erratic and you could tell he was close.

”I love you, fuck, I love you so much, I love you," he repeated against your cheek, and you hummed, answered back, until he moaned louder.

Until the final thrust, until he came deep inside you with your name on his lips and you kissed his face.

Cove detangled himself from you only to bring back a wet washcloth, to wipe you and himself. You only got up to go the toilets, fast and impatient, to find him back in bed, under the covers.

You cuddled in his arms, your cheek on his shoulder, legs entangled to look at him. Content, beautiful. It was magical, as always, to go to sleep with him every night, to have him be the last thing you always saw at night.

”Well, that was a nice surprise," you giggled and he smiled lazily. “I’ll be the one to surprise you next time.”

He groaned lightly but laughed, forehead hitting yours gently. “If you want me to really die, sure,” and you could only laugh, his lips on your eyelids, yours reaching up to kiss his eyebrows. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

You hummed, “I love you, Covie.”

His smile grew larger, and his cheeks turned red as always, “I love you too.”

And you fell asleep, safe, happy, home, where you belonged.

[thelordofgifs]

For the prompt thing, number 24 on the Silmarils list; choked with weeds and slime? IDK seems like a line you could do something interesting with.

Another one I’m answering a year late, but have some War of Wrath-era Elros and Elrond growing slowly apart! Thank you for the prompt 💕

“Just a little further,” Elrond says confidently, raising his torch. It does very little to illuminate the dank forest path ahead of them, but he does not seem deterred. “We’ll know it when we feel it.”

“Elrond,” Elros says quietly, trailing after him. He is not used to this position – not used to being the one to doubt. For so much of their lives it has been the other way around, has Elrond followed Elros charging head-first into wherever his will led them.

“You remember,” Elrond insists. “Naneth told us that the air inside Melian’s Girdle was cleaner and purer than any she had ever breathed since.”

Elros inhales, takes in the stench of rot and decay that clogs the forest, and thinks with longing of the clean salt air of the Sea. “The Girdle was fallen almost before Naneth was born,” he says. “It is not here, Elrond.”

“The forest will remember it, even so,” Elrond says. “Doriath was once the most blessed realm in Beleriand – and we its last heirs! It will remember us.”

Too often these days, in Elros’ view, does Elrond’s talk turn towards the power of memory. It makes him uneasy: he does not like to feel the edges of a rift between them, to understand so little the drift of his brother’s thought. Perhaps it is the knowledge of burned Sirion, and all that was lost with it, that haunts Elrond now – or perhaps the long shadow of Amon Ereb, that mausoleum in which they came of age, where the sons of Fëanor mourned the lost days of their glory, and Maglor’s every lullaby was half a dirge.

Beleriand was splendid once, it is true – but the land is breaking now, and the interminable war drawing into its final act, and Elros is more concerned with building something from the ashes than weeping for what was burned. But he does not know how to say this to Elrond, who is still leading him towards the forest’s heart, where Menegroth once flourished.

“Do you even know how to enter the city?” he asks instead. The path, choked with weeds and slime, clings unpleasantly to his feet and makes a squelching sound with every step. “The hidden entrance may now be lost.”

“Not lost,” Elrond murmurs, his voice losing a little of its bravado. “Perhaps it has forgotten itself – but we can call it back.”

“And how long will that take?” Elros argues. “Elrond, my men are waiting for me. I have not the time for a fool’s errand.”

Elrond turns back to look at him for the first time. For a moment Elros is oddly glad of that, that he might still capture his brother’s attention with a sharp word: but the thought is almost immediately followed by a hot flash of shame, for hurt flickers briefly in Elrond’s eyes. It is the sort of thing Maedhros used to do, in his worst moods – goad and goad until at last Maglor gave him some reaction, often too imperceptible for the twins to see. Elros does not want to be like Maedhros. Does not want to think of Maedhros, wants to shake off all the clinging ghosts of his childhood and look now to the world ahead.

But: “It ought not take long,” is all Elrond says, mildly.

They walk in silence, Elros breathing through his nose. He thinks again of the Edain under his command, whom he left waiting at their new outpost a little south of the forest. It has been long enough since he and Elrond last went away on an adventure of their own, for Gil-galad cannot often spare his brother from his duties, and Elros too is a commander in his own right. Besides, he did not think his men would understand their object: most of them have grandparents too young to remember Doriath before its fall. Still he does not like to abandon them, does not want them to think him just another elvish princeling, a stranger to mortal troubles and mortal woes.

But nor could he have let Elrond set out on this quest alone.

In the silence Elrond begins to sing a canto of the Lay of Leithian, of Lúthien dancing in the forest glades to Daeron’s music. Elros joins him, for their voices yet ring stronger together than apart – but he can put little conviction behind the song. The forest that his foremother loved is dead now, and so is she – they cannot resurrect her with their poems and their songs, necromancy dressed up as memorials, she is fled where they cannot reach her. Elros wonders if she was glad to do it.

Elrond’s eyes keep flitting between the dark, foreboding tree-trunks, as though he cannot quite understand why they do not become green and fair again under the influence of his song. At last he stops singing, a little frustrated now. “I cannot find a way,” he says, “it is all dark and rotten.”

“Well, there have been all manner of foul creatures crawling through these forests since Doriath fell,” Elros says sensibly. “I would be surprised were it not polluted.” 

“Why will it not cleanse itself?” Elrond says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why will it not remember how it used to be?”

Every two years or so Elrond will come to Elros with a plan to reach out to Maglor and his brother, and bring them before Gil-galad to face justice and redemption. Each time Elros tries to make him understand how impossible the idea is – and it works, for a year or two. 

He is not accustomed to thinking of his brother as childish – not accustomed to feeling so very old as he does right now, seeing the stunned bewildered hurt on Elrond’s face.

“It is tired, Elrond,” he says. “Let it sleep.”

For a moment Elrond’s face crumples, and Elros thinks he must weep; then he says, quite calmly and cheerfully, “Well then, we had best be getting you back to your men,” and sets his course for the forest’s southern border.

The victory feels hollow, to Elros: but then, they all do. 

[frissy]

Earth42! Miles Morales x fem!spider/1610!Reader

(Part 1) Part 2

MAJOR ATSV SPOILERS

• Earth 1610 Miles Morales

• You are also a spider person on Earth 1610 with Earth 42 spider DNA like Miles

• Takes place right before, and when Miles (and you) are sent to Earth 42

• possessive Earth 42 Miles

• You and Earth 1610 Miles are not in a romantic relationship

• mentions of death, guns, and blood

• violence

• angst and fluff

• some OOC Earth 42 Miles

• not proofread

Let’s do this.. one more time. Hey, I’m [name] from Earth 1610. You’ve heard the story before, I was bitten by a radioactive spider. And for over a year, I’ve been one of Brooklyn’s spider-people, along with my best friend, Miles Morales.

We keep the peace in the city, and we protect it. but.. sometimes it’s hard. Keeping our normal lives balanced with our crime fighting lives… but somehow, we still find time for each other. . End of introduction….

.

.

.

.

.

“DON’T LET THEM LEAVE. THEY CAN’T LEAVE.” Miguel O’Hara was shouting out at every other spider person trying to get to you and Miles.

It turns out, you guys were anomalies. You weren’t supposed to be spider-people.

But the chasing was no use, you two already made it to the machine that could send you home.

Somehow, you two managed to get inside as the almost mechanic-looking-spider began to crawl from the celling and read your DNA and build a web around you two to send you home.

But Miguel lunged over, clawing at the web, almost breaking it. He was trying to get to you and Miles. But it was no use. The avatar, who responsible for the machine looked at you and Miles with sympathy. And she pressed the ‘yes’ button to send you home. .

.

.

.

You both were shot onto a roof of an apartment complex. The one that Miles lived in. However he was lucky, and ended up near his room. .

Meanwhile you were shot out onto the roof, hitting your head. On concrete, which knocked you out. .

.

with miles…

.

“Miles?” A familiar voice echoed. Entering his room. It was his mom! .

“Mom!” He walked over to her. “what did you do to your hair?”

“nothing? Mom. I have to tell you something. But you have to promise me you won’t get mad.”

“Of course Miles. What is it?”

“you’ll still love me, right?”

“yes of course. Now what is it?”

Miles took a deep breath.

“Mom.. I’m Spider-Man.”

… “who’s Spider-Man?”

his stomach dropped. He tried explaining to her.. but she was brushing him off.

“So, you shoot webs out your butt?” She laughed. “No.. but I did have a nightmare about that once—“

He heard the apartment door open. He felt sick. Even more sick when he heard his voice.

it was his uncle Aaron… but how.

He couldn’t understand what his mom and uncle Aaron were talking about. He was in shock. But Aaron noticed him.

“Miles. Lets go.”

“oh.. okay.” Miles left his room. Walking with his.. uncle out of the apartment onto the roof.

.

.

.

Meanwhile…

.

“ah.. fuck.” You groaned, standing up. You couldn’t believe you got knocked out like that. You rubbed your head.. then you looked up.

Brooklyn was in shambles. .

Then it all clicked. This, this was not your earth.

You remembered Miguel’s words. .

“BECAUSE OF YOU TWO, THERE’S AN EARTH OUT THERE WITH NO SPIDER-MAN TO PROTECT IT.” .

How stupid could you and Miles have been? The machine reads the spider DNA.

the spider was from Earth 42… not 1610. You were mortified by this Earth’s Brooklyn. .

But it got worse. So much worse. You turned around.. facing a giant brick wall. Miles’s dad was staring right back at you. .

But your own face was looking right back at you too. .

You felt like passing out again. .

You were dead, you were dead in this universe. .

The door to the roof open. Put came Miles… and Aaron. He looked just as mortified as you. Seeing Brooklyn, and the mural.

That’s when you felt a sharp ping in your neck, and the last thing you heard was,

“I TOLD YOU TO WAIT!”

Your body didn’t hit the ground.. someone had caught you in their arms.

.

.

“I told you to wait for my signal.” Aaron said looking at his nephew, who held you as if you were as delicate as porcelain.

Who held you how he would always do.

Aaron had Miles slumped over his shoulder.

“I know. Unc.. but couldn’t help it.” .

Aaron sighed, and looked at his nephew who’s looked at your unconscious, breathing figure as if he had just found something that had been lost for a long time.

he looked at you, barely whispering, putting a hand on your cheek. “Mi querida..”

Aaron sighed at his behavior.

“That’s not your girl.” Aaron told his nephew, “Remember that.” He said, pointing at the mural behind him.

.

Miles didn’t reply. Instead he brought your body closer to him, and held you tighter.

He wanted to feel the ride and fall of your chest.

He wanted to hear your breathing.

And doing that, he felt something he hasn’t felt in so long. .

“I know she’s not my girl.” Miles replied. His voice was shaky and he didn’t take his eyes off you. .

But I can make her my girl.

He thought to himself.

.

.

.

.

.

TO BE CONTINUED….

[quartzalynlove]

Spidey Sense

Pairing: hobie brown x Fem! Reader

Summary: hobie shows up at your place

A/n: I don't think this is my best but I need this man biblically.

Was this finals week or your final week? You couldn't remember the last time you didn't have fun on a weekend. All you did once school let out on Friday was work through review packets given by your teachers. Currently, you were halfway through the chemistry papers.

It was Sunday afternoon and there was still plenty of work to do. Time for a break was yet to be seen on the horizon. Your brain was on autopilot as your hand absently scribbled across the paper and words slightly blurred as they reached your eyes. A band of tension was tight around your head; you knew a break was probably in order, but you couldn't take one. Not yet.

The chemistry packet was finally finished, and the history one began. By this point your eyelids were heavy while your brain struggled to stay on task. With a sigh, you hunched over your desk and inspected the first question harder, as if that would make it easier to work.

After a while, you finally got the first question. But before you could start the next one, you saw the bright sunlight shining in your room become partially blocked from your peripheral vision. You brushed it off, assuming it was only a plane or something until knuckles rapped against your window. With your attention caught, you whipped your head around to see Spider-Man holding a brown paper bag while crouched on the fire escape.

Confused, you finally left your chair to open your window, but not giving Hobie access inside.

Hobie looked at both of your hands pressed against the sides of your window then back at you.

"You gon' let me in, babe?"

With your lips pressed together, you shook your head. "Come back in like an hour thirty, Hobie."

The eyes of Hobie's mask squinted as he look around in feigned thought.

"But like what if I come in now?"

"I'm almost done with my work," you sighed. "We can do whatever after that."

"You still workin' on that?" He asked, tilting his head.

Another sigh left you as you brought a hand to your forehead, attempting to ease your growing headache.

"Yeah." You answered quietly.

Hobie didn't just swing by because he felt like it, even if he was missing hanging out with you all weekend. Ever since Friday, he had an odd feeling crawling over his skin that he couldn't shake. At first, he suspected it had something to do with President Osborne and his regime, but after some investigation Hobie found the dictator was still hiding after their last battle. It wasn't until he made his rounds through the city, and stopped a mugging close to your apartment, that Hobie realized. The crawling vibrated right through him, and it was all coming from you.

"Got a headache?" Hobie asked.

You kept your eyes squeezed shut. "Yeah."

"That the same shirt you took from my place Friday?" He looked at you in the distressed, blue sleeveless t-shirt that he knew was his.

"Maybe." You fiddled with the hem of his shirt.

"You eat anything since lunch yesterday?"

You fell silent for a moment as you looked at Hobie; you could see his dumb smile under his mask.

"Thought so."

Coming through the opening you made when your hand left the window, Hobie held the bag he had in front of you. You took it as he entered further into your room and removed his mask. Inside was your regular order from the local deli and a bottle of water. Hobie smirked as he heard the bag crinkle when you plunged your hand inside. He was at your desk looking over the absurd amount of work that you had been doing.

"History and trig? Baby, I could do this." Hobie offered, turning to you.

Shaking your head, you tried to get down the giant bite of sandwich you took. "No, I need to do those to pass my finals."

Hobie didn't listen, taking your pencil and scrawling through a few questions on the packets.

"The education system is just twelve years of teaching children how to conform to society and not question authority." He shrugged.

You laughed slightly at Hobie as you made your way next to him. As you leaned against Hobie, you took your pencil out of his hand and looked up at him.

"Yeah, but, I still wanna go to college."

Hobie hummed, nodding his head, "Hm...and I want that too because you want it," he brought his index finger to his chin as he took a brief thought. "Take a break, then."

With the smile on his face, you knew Hobie's idea of a break for you was cuddling and ignoring both of your responsibilities. While it didn't sound like a terrible idea, your first final was tomorrow. You could take a break when the work was finished.

You linked your arm around Hobie's. "Baby, thank you for the sandwich, but I swear, I'm almost done then we can do whatever you want."

With furrowed brows, Hobie brought his free hand over his chest. "This ain't 'bout me, babe, I said you need a break."

Before you could attempt to shoo him off again, Hobie made his argument for why he should stay.

"Ever since Friday, I've had the most bonkers feeling that I just couldn't figure out. But I was swingin' round here earlier when it hit me. You aren't taking proper care of yourself."

You looked up at Hobie with a puzzled look as a small laugh left your throat. "So you got spidey sense about me?"

Hobie shrugged. "Guess so."

"I didn't think it worked like that." You smirked.

"I ain't got Scooby-Doo."

You let go of Hobie and looked up into his eyes. "Well, if the spidey sense says I need a break, I guess these last two packets can wait."

As you took another bit of your sandwich, Hobie kissed your forehead.

[yyawnjun]

Hi, congrats on 300 followers. I have a prompt request for the celebration. I would like to request a one-shot of jongseob with the prompt from sweet "smiling during kisses".

I would also like to add that the reader be gender neutral. congratulations again on 300 followers! 🎉

hihi! thank you so much for participating, and sorry for the late, hope you like it <3 ; 1k wc ; fluff ; first time writing for soeb aaaa ; and credits to my fav proofreader @sobun1est

300 followers event 🎀

You notice the light of the candles as soon as you open the door of your house, taking the first step inside your apartment.

“I’m home!” you said.

Shortly after, called by your voice, you noticed Jongseob coming out of his room to come and welcome you.

That day was your anniversary; one year had passed since you had confessed your tender love and the "roommate" label had turned into lovers. You had just returned from the small pastry shop where you worked in the afternoons to save up for your studies, and with you, you had a large plastic bag containing your boyfriend’s favorite cake.

Although neither of you was swimming in gold, you were happy with your flat. So you gradually decorated it and created a small home with all the amenities you could want.

“Welcome back, honey” he said to you, coming closer to steal a kiss from you and helping with the bags.

While he went to put the cake in the refrigerator you moved towards the small room, from where a soft light came.

As soon as you entered, you noticed that many candles were placed throughout the room, and in the center, there was a carefully set table. The window was wide open, and the view was of the city illuminated by the few lights of the night.

On the table there were two glasses, and next to them a bottle of your favorite wine. The plates had light red and gold decorations, and the tablecloth and napkins followed that theme.

There was also your record player, who carefully selected the records that had accompanied your evenings throughout that year.

“Do you remember our first date?” the boy asked you as he entered the room.

“When we shared pizza, sitting on this sofa while we tried to guess about the lives of the passers-by under this balcony? How could I forget?” you asked him.

He nodded and moved in your direction, seemingly unable to resist his desire to be by you.

He took your face in his hands and soon joined your lips in a long kiss.

“How about we create a remix, maybe with a slight upgrade?” he asked you, looking you directly in the eyes.

“I would love it,” he replied, smiling.

Everything at that moment brought back memories of the first date, when after a year of living together, since you attended the same university, that boy had come forward to ask you to be together.

“Happy anniversary Seob”

“You too, love” he replied.

During your first date, while you were waiting for the food to come, the two of you sat on the couch. You could only gaze lovingly at Jongseob's slim physique as he was focused on the task at hand—he had stood up to begin the vinyl recordings.

During the first date, you were waiting for the pizza to be delivered, while now you were waiting for the lasagna - entirely cooked by Jongseob - to cook in the oven!

You had once expressed how much you would have liked to taste Italian food, so that's why he chose it for dinner.

He had carefully chosen the order of the music records to listen to, as he had presented them to you during your year together.

To ensure that everything looked its best in your eyes, he had even asked his mother to lend him some of the dish set that she had used for her wedding.

He had discovered your favorite flavor in candles, and in his pocket, he had a crumpled piece of paper with a short poem that he wanted to recite to you.

Now he was sitting next to you on the couch and was following the moves of the first date step by step. He had counted how many times your eyes had crossed, but like the first time, he had gotten lost in your eyes and had opted for a more direct approach.

He had turned to you while you were watching him the whole time - noticing how his face was bright and how he had changed in a year. You vividly remembered all the features of his face and how his expression had gone from full concentration to complete disorientation as soon as he had looked at you.

And now everything was happening again: your eyes had met, and the butterflies in your stomach had started to dance.

He had soon come dangerously close and had canceled the distances. Neither of you could hold back a smile, remembering your first kiss while you were living the umpteenth. Many quick kisses alternated with passionate ones while your bodies also got closer.

You took a brief break to let out some lovely laughs that blended in with the background music like they were the melody itself.

Smiles between the kisses, comforting scents, and the warmth of the bodies that united.

He had moved his hand from behind your neck to your hips- oh how he had become bolder.

You were facing him and found it difficult to keep your eyes closed, so now and again when he drew you away, you gave him a tiny peek.

You loved so much seeing that boy's face up close.

With an awkward and hesitant smile, he looked so attractive with the candles lighting him.

The first time you had been interrupted by the arrival of the delivery boy, while this time by a strange burning smell that began to spread from the kitchen.

As soon as it hit your boyfriend's nostrils, his eyes widened and he suddenly stood up.

"THE LASAGNA!" he said as he ran towards the kitchen.

You giggled as you moved to go and check it out too.

As soon as you arrived in the kitchen you saw him wearing two pink skates and an apron of the same color, as he took the lasagna out of the oven. He hadn't even taken the time to turn on the light, the light of the candles was enough; but he had chosen to wear the apron to avoid dirtying the outfit he had worked on to impress you.

Luckily the lasagna wasn’t burnt, but on the contrary, it had acquired a light crunchy crust that had made that dish even better.

You found yourselves shortly after at the table, savoring that delicious food while you remembered the times gone by, shared moments of the present, and fantasized about future experiences.